“Well, you’ve had quite an adventure this past month, that’s for sure,” Louise commented.
“It is overwhelming when I really take time to think about it, but it has been a wonderful experience, although Mr. Driscoll and I haven’t had much opportunity to get to know each other. With five children about, the opportunity just isn’t there. Once the children become accustomed to their new lives, we’ll be able to put them in their own rooms. Goodness knows the house has plenty of space for them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nights are difficult for them. Nightmares, crying, boogeymen in the dark. Our sleeping arrangements are cramped, but we’re managing. Mr. Driscoll sleeps in one room with the boys, and I share the largest bedroom with the three girls, otherwise, we are all up and down throughout the night, and no one rests. They’re all afraid of waking up to find they’ve been abandoned again.”
“Poor dears.” Louise clicked her tongue. “It’s such a blessing that you came into their lives.”
“I hope so, for their sakes.” Tessa returned Paul’s wave where he played in the midst of a group of children across the way. “See, he needs to know I’m nearby.”
“Tell me about Clara Jean and Lydia.”
“They were with their mother—a reformed prostitute living out her last months under the care of the sisters at the convent. She died of tuberculosis last winter. The combination of having a prostitute mother, unidentified paternity, and their mother’s illness were three black marks against the girls finding a decent home. Lydia is such a little mother to the other children that I couldn’t bear to separate them. They need her as much as she needs them.”
A child’s injured wail brought Tessa to her feet and adults running to help. Startled out of her sleep, Joy sat up, whimpering and rubbing her eyes. Tessa hoisted her to her hip and took off with her doctor’s reaction to offer assistance, which was doubly intensified by her newly found maternal instinct. Regina and Sandra hurried toward them with the four Driscoll children in tow, who jabbered all at once.
“Todd fell out of a tree and cracked his head.”
“And broked-ed his nose.”
“I think he’s dead.”
“Don’t be a silly goose. He’s crying. He can’t be dead.”
Regina explained, “Todd Campbell fell from a tree.” She cringed. “I heard a snap. I do think his arm is broken. His father’s taking him to Doc Howard’s office.”
The crowd dispersed, and the announcer, with the aid of a loud hailer, called competitors for the one-mile cowpony race. The Driscoll children climbed to the top of the hay in a wagon parked in the shade.
Spying Simon coming along the street, Tessa walked to meet him, but her smile faded when she saw his grave expression.
“Is something amiss?”
Simon took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve. “Did you hear about the Campbell boy?”
“Yes.”
“His parents are with him at Doc Howard’s office, but Doc’s not there. He left a note that he’d gone out to the Ridgeway place about two hours ago. A deputy rode out to tell him.”
Tessa wrestled with her conscience. She should have known it was impossible to walk away from her life’s calling—a doctor one day and not the next. It was unconscionable to remain silent, but to speak could crumble the foundation of her new life.
Simon interrupted her contemplation. “Let’s step up here and watch the race. It’s the last one of the day. Dance starts at dusk.”
Cheers went up as the horse racers sped by, rounded a point at the far end of town that Tessa couldn’t see from where she watched, and then came thundering back to the finish line where they’d begun. With aid of the loud hailer, the announcer named the winner, thanked everyone for a fine celebration, and reminded all to stay for supper and dancing.
The crowd quieted when Ben’s voice replaced the announcer’s. “...in need of a doctor. If there is a doctor in the crowd, please come forth.”
When the children slid down from the wagon, covered head to toe in hay, Regina and Sandra did their best to brush hay from their clothing and hair.
Lydia asked, “Is it that boy who needs a doctor? I hope he’ll be all right.” Her tender heart showed in the tears shining in her eyes.
Simon patted her shoulder. “Yes. He’ll be all right, honey. Don’t worry.” He looked his group over then pushed back his hat. “Well, let’s get you washed up for supper. You can put on your dancing duds after you eat.”
Tessa heard him, nodded, but she wasn’t really listening. Speaking indirectly, she said, “Louise, would you mind the children? I need Mr. Driscoll to escort me to the doctor’s office. I’ve a little experience with bone setting. I’ll see what I can do for the boy.”
****
At a table near the open-sided dance pavilion, Tessa kept watch over her children where they played in a torch-illuminated area, contented with full bellies and bowls of ice cream. Regina and Sandra sat with them, enjoying their antics. Todd Campbell joined them, bringing a host of other children tagging along, and showing off his splinted arm in the sling to the awe of every child there. Simon brought a cup of punch for her and took a seat across the table, beer glass in hand.
Between graciously accepting thanks for her medical assistance and on-going introductions, Tessa quizzed Simon in her quest to learn more about her new home. She was particularly interested in the well-kept park and pavilion that took up most of one side. Simon said it was used year-round for traveling shows, musical performances, school recitals, elections, church meetings, weddings, and anything else that came up.
The evening wore on, and Simon excused himself to refill their beverages. When he returned, instead of resuming his seat across the table, he sat on the bench beside her, his thigh touching hers. Whether he did it on purpose or not, it sent a little tingle through her body. Pressing her leg against his, she saw the tiny smile lines that crinkled around his eyes in his polite effort to ignore her, but neither did he move away. He was a big man, who towered over her by several inches, but he possessed a gentle way with a take-charge manner that lacked the arrogance often coupled with that sort of quiet confidence. His patience with the children seemed boundless and, at every opportunity, he offered himself as an example to show them how he expected a Driscoll to think and act.
After a few minutes, Simon commented, “The day we met, you said you had some skill in the healing arts. Well, I’m impressed with how you fixed-up the Campbell boy’s arm.”
She took a sip of punch, her stomach tensing in anticipation of his inevitable question.
“Where did you learn to do that?”
She couldn’t look at him and lie outright, but neither was she willing to reveal the full scope of her medical training. “Oh, there was a doctor in my town who taught me a few tricks of his profession. I suppose I’m a keen observer.”
Peripherally, she could see him watching her, but all he said was, “Hmm.”
The music stopped, and Ben called for the crowd’s attention. “Folks, the fireworks will begin in twenty minutes. Our musicians will play two or three more songs, so now is the time to dance if you’re going to.”
Simon put his beer glass on the table and stood. “Join me in a dance, Mrs. Driscoll?” He offered a hand, and she took it.
“I would be delighted, Mr. Driscoll.”
It was a lively stepper that left Tessa breathy and flushed, but Simon kept her on the floor through a waltz, and again through the last dance of the night, which was of a slower, intimate tempo. He drew her near, closer than other couples on the floor, holding her with tender affection he’d never yet shown. Their only physical contact since meeting had been a respectable kiss upon exchanging marriage vows and passing touches in the course of day-to-day interactions.
She felt like a starry-eyed school girl at her first grownup dance—a little giddy and delighted at the raised eyebrows and amused smiles of on-lookers. Mostly it was nice being in the str
ong, comforting embrace of a man. There had been only one man in her life, who now came up woefully short in her estimation of what made a man a man.
Tessa was sorry when the music stopped, but the children’s excitement with the fireworks reminded her why she was here, which, she cautioned herself, wasn’t strictly for her own happiness.
The night was late when Simon settled five exhausted children into the wagon bed. They snuggled down into the cozy pile of blankets and, within minutes, were asleep from the bumping lull of the buckboard. Holding the reins in one hand, Simon took Tessa’s hand with his other, entwining his fingers with hers, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Overall, life had treated her well and, all things considered, she thought herself more fortunate than most. And now, she had a husband, family, and a home to share with them. What more could she want?
For the moment, she couldn’t think of a thing.
****
September 9, 1889
The September full moon shone its waning summer light upon the covered veranda of the Driscoll house. Sitting in the hanging bench swing, Tessa rocked, periodically pushing her toes against the floor to maintain the soothing sway. Sipping tea, she enjoyed a few moments of the same evening solitude she’d known in her previous life. She loved the days spent with the children, but she also looked forward to the evenings. Reese Point wasn’t forgotten, she just didn’t mourn its place as a closed door to her past.
She did miss the sea smell on the breeze blowing off Lake Michigan, the reflection of the moon on the water, the sound of birds in flight, watching phantom tendrils of smoke rising from campfires on the beach. But the prairie had its own magic, and she’d succumbed to its spell—wind worrying the cottonwoods so they seemed constantly chattering to each other, sunsets and sunrises of brilliance she’d never beheld in her forested Michigan, rolling prairie stretching out in all directions with the Rocky Mountains rising in their magnificence to caress the sky.
She felt no pressing desire to reveal her past to Simon, or that she’d responded to his advertisement to gain a new identity. They’d agreed to share personal information only when comfortable doing so, and not to pry into matters private to their pasts, but there was the issue of how to tell him about the money secreted away in the false bottom of one of her steam trunks. It wasn’t an insignificant amount, either. There was enough to purchase the land and water rights he talked of, with more than half left over, but she was leery of hurting his pride by offering him the money. Well, there was no need to fret over it. It would take care of itself in due time.
Brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, she also brushed aside her dilemma. Since she wasn’t prepared to tell him, she wouldn’t dwell on it…at least for the rest of the evening. For now, she felt content and secure in her Colorado prairie sanctuary. Occasionally, longing for news of home urged her to write to Lena, but she’d made an agreement with herself to leave it alone until Christmastime. Maybe then she’d send a letter.
Tonight, Simon was later than usual after a day in town. He’d missed supper three hours ago, but she wasn’t concerned. It was an infrequent occurrence. A few minutes later, she saw him come over the rise, silhouetted in the moonlight. Toying with the plain gold band on her finger, Tessa sighed and smiled. She hadn’t expected to love him, but love him she did. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but in her heart, she knew it to be true.
As he neared, anticipation scuttled along her arms, bringing a warm blush to her skin and a flutter to her stomach. He’d yet to call her by her first name, so she’d taken his example and did likewise but, since the night they’d danced, she noticed his affection for her growing. Now that the little ones, particularly Joy, were sleeping through the night, perhaps it was time to share a bedroom as husband and wife. She liked the thought and decided tonight was as good as any to talk of it.
The dogs met him at the yard gate, and he petted them before coming on to the house. When he reached the steps to the veranda, he stopped, remaining partially concealed in the shadows. From his hesitation, she sensed there was something on his mind, and she chose her words accordingly.
“We missed you at supper.”
“Kids asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Have a good day with them?”
“A very good day. We went to the river and fished, then cooked our catch for supper. I saved a plate for you.”
She couldn’t tell if he nodded, but she knew he was looking at her. When he came up the steps and covered the few paces to her without saying a word or smiling, she knew her time had come to pay her piper. As a seasoned doctor, she knew the best remedy to a problem was often quiet observation and a patient ear, instead of jumping to hasty conclusions that only made matters worse.
“I’ve been talking to Ben. Even if you think poorly of me, I’ll tell you straight-up that I’ve had a few whiskeys, but I’m sober as a judge now. I’ve done some hard thinking on the walk home.”
“Am I going to need a whiskey?”
He shrugged. “We both may need a few.” Simon shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet, studying the floor as if something there demanded his attention. “Back in Cheyenne, Ben listened at the door while we talked. I didn’t know that until this afternoon. Apparently, some of what you said meant more to him than to me.”
“What did I say?”
“Well, it was your cooking. He knew all about whitefish chowder and what you called a pasty. I didn’t think anything about it, because I’d never heard of those foods. He wasn’t surprised, though. He said you have to be from Michigan to appreciate them.”
She sighed. Who would have thought an innocent, offhand remark about food would be her downfall? “Ben’s from Michigan.”
Simon looked at her. “Yeah, and ever since Cheyenne, he’s been more and more curious about some other things.”
“Examples?”
“Oh, Louise has told him about what you women talk about. I’ve made a few comments here and there about the skinned knees and bloody noses you’ve taken care of with our young’uns. Then, when Adam fell off the horse and knocked himself cold, you were calm as could be and knew just what to do, while I thought we’d lost him when he didn’t wake up for an hour. And you sewed up the gash on his head like you’d done it a hundred times.” Simon reached down to rub one of the dogs behind his ears. “Ben realized it early on, but I didn’t. You’ve got more than just some skill in healing. You’ve had doctor schooling.”
Tessa held her tongue, even though every part of her was bursting to explain.
“Ben’s brother runs a newspaper in a little lakeside town in the southern part of Michigan. Once Ben got the notion that you’re a doctor hiding out, he had his brother do some investigating.”
“What did he find out?”
Simon slipped the strap of his bulging haversack off his shoulder and dropped it beside her on the swing. She glanced, but didn’t touch.
“You’re not curious about what’s in there?”
Tessa licked her dry lips, buying a few seconds to find her voice and her nerve. “Well, you’re right, I am a doctor, and I’m female, so that should make me doubly curious.” She thought he almost smiled. “But I’d rather you told me.”
Simon pulled the flap back. Light from the oil lamp on the kitchen table filtered through the opened window behind the swing, providing Tessa with a clear view of the neatly folded newspapers that filled the haversack. She skimmed her fingers over them and pulled one up just far enough to see the header. Chicago Daily Herald. She didn’t need to read them. She knew well enough what they said.
“Ben’s brother sent every newspaper from the Herald since last January. They arrived on the train today.”
Tessa nodded as she slid the paper back into its place. “There’s not that many here. I would assume then, that you and Ben spent the better part of the day sorting through them.”
He shook his head. “Just Ben. He didn’t tell me about this until he’d figured it out. T
hese are the papers with articles about a legal problem over a Will and rightful inheritance of a wealthy gent who died under suspicious circumstances in a town in upper Michigan called Reese Point. It wasn’t too much of a stretch, once he started reading, to figure out Theodosia Morrison was Tessa Morris.”
Simon tossed his hat aside and raked fingers through his hair, as he blew a sharp, whistling breath. “Ben reminded me that I’m the only one who has to live with my conscience. That’s what I’m battling that right now.”
What did she hear in his voice? Anger? Betrayal? Disappointment? Fear? At the time, marrying him seemed so innocuous, so straightforward. He was a widower needing a woman to help raise his grandchildren. She was as likely a candidate as any and better than most. But she’d been foolish to believe he’d never find out. How selfish she’d been in hoping it would all just go away by ignoring its existence.
He took a newspaper from his jacket pocket and dropped it in her lap. “That’s the one that clinched this for me.”
She unfolded the paper and read her betrayal emblazoned on the front page. Putnam Scandal Over – Grandson Confesses to Murder & Theft – Police on Trail of Accomplice
With deliberate care, but shaking hands, she refolded the newspaper and tucked it inside the haversack and brought the flap down. A loss for words was not one of her weak points, but it took her many seconds to muddle through the numb shock of her own disappointment. Raising her head, she met him stare for stare.
“I’d explain, but you’ve already read it. Where does this put us?”
“I signed a paper saying I could leave this marriage with everything I came in with.” He sucked in a raspy breath and let it out hard. “Well, it’s not true. You’ve got my heart, and it’s too late to take it back. I don’t want it back.”
Her breath caught.
“And you know when that happened? At the orphanage. Adam and Paul and baby Joy—they were going to a home. They had a future to look forward to. A place to live, go to school and church. Make friends. But little Clara Jean and Lydia had no one to love them. No one who cared whether they lived or died in that place. Oh, I wanted to take them with us, but it wasn’t in me to expect more of you than I was already putting on your shoulders.”
Lassoing A Mail-Order Bride Page 12