Year of Jubilee

by Peggy Trotter

  “I’m so sorry, Elsa. I didn’t know you were coming today. I guess Rafe forgot to tell me.”

  “I not sorry.” Elsa’s fair face dimpled and her hazel eyes danced. “You seem very happy this day.”

  Jubilee smiled but fixed her eyes on the batter.

  “I suppose you be angry with me?” Elsa questioned.

  Jubilee eyed her and shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

  Elsa looked down at her daughter toddling around the room. She’d made her way over to the bed and pulled the blankets off.

  “When Rafe come, he sad, like lost boy.” Elsa giggled a bit. “He so big to be little boy, no? I only want you be happy, Jubilee. I know how happy little Britta make for me. And Ivan. I want for you, too.”

  Jubilee set the bowl down, plopped opposite of Elsa, and laid her hand on her arm. “Don’t feel badly, Elsa. You did the right thing. I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

  Elsa beamed then jumped as she remembered something. “Oh, I have mail for you. Miss Rosy at post office ask I bring.”

  Elsa pulled two envelopes from her dress pocket and handed them to Jubilee. Jubilee gave a little cry of pleasure, having received a pair of letters when they seldom even got one. The first was from Rafe’s parents but, as she eyed the other one with no return address, her breath whooshed from her body. She’d recognize that fancy writing anywhere.

  She swayed. Her vision fuzzed. Had Elsa said something? Jubilee stood. She heard a strange voice ask to be excused to visit the necessary, and she realized it was her own. Somehow she stumbled out the back entrance, across the yard, and into the privy without falling over. She collapsed on the floor and pushed the envelope from Rafe’s parents into her pocket. As she leaned against the rough door, her hands ripped open the letter with the fancy calligraphy. Another letter from Rosemary. Her eyes strained to read the missive in the poor light.

  My dearest Rafe,

  Oh, please forgive me for writing again so soon and without having received a reply from you, but things have worsened here. I long to join you, therefore I’ve purchased a steamer ticket that will take me to your side, where I belong. Please meet me at the Evansville Wharf on Dec. 5th. If you are unable to, I’ll find my way north unchaperoned. I’ll endure the hardship through the Thanksgiving holiday, but I can wait no longer. I must see you.

  All my love, my darling,

  Rosemary

  The little shrew. How dare she confess her passion for another woman’s husband? Her stomach rocked, and she staggered to gag into the open hole. Sweat broke out on her face and the rolling in her middle continued. That awful woman planned to arrive with the full intent of taking her husband. She sat for a very long time, trying to settle her insides and her nerves.

  Two weeks. Two weeks before that horrid Rosemary appeared. What to do? What to do? Jubilee wanted to run for the woods, but thoughts of the cougar flashed into her brain. Besides, Elsa and Britta waited for her in the cabin. Ivan was engaged in an all-day task with Rafe. Her stomach rocked again and her teeth chattered. She hadn’t even bothered to grab her shoes or her cape. Tears burned her eyes.

  She heard the cabin door shut. Elsa. She steeled herself. Her friend would be full of questions. A tentative knock sounded on the outhouse.

  “Jubilee? You okay?”

  Tears coursed down Jubilee’s face and her stomach clenched again.

  “No.” Her answer was no lie. “I…think I’m sick.”

  “Oh.”

  This is my way out.

  “Maybe you should take Britta home. I’m not sure if it’s catching.” A sob rose in Jubilee’s throat and she sealed her mouth with her hand. A broken heart was most assuredly not contagious.

  “Oh, yes,” Elsa exclaimed. “I get Ivan.”

  Jubilee hung her head and wiped her cold face as Elsa’s hurried footsteps grew fainter.

  “Jubie, Jubie,” Britta called.

  Not even Britta’s sweet voice could bring Jubilee from her misery. She stood and leaned against the door. Heavy footsteps came quickly across the yard.

  “Jubilee? Are you all right?” Rafe. Fresh tears cascaded down her face. “Do you need help? Elsa offered to stay.”

  “No,” she burst out.

  “Are you sure? Can I come in?”

  “No.” The word tore from her lips.

  Silence stretched for a moment before Rafe spoke again. “I’m going to see the Larsson’s off. I’ll be right back.”

  Not if I can help it. She listened for his footsteps to fade then eased the door open. Her mind numb with anguish, she sprinted barefoot across the field, now stubbly and pale with cut stems. She ignored the pain and cold in her feet and slipped into the dimness of the trees.

  What was she doing here? A sob broke from her body. There was nowhere to go. She had no money, no clothes, no destination. Choking on tears and hating herself for her stupidity, she only knew she needed to escape.

  A shadowed form shifted through the dead vegetation and Jubilee froze with a gasp. She peered into the undergrowth, then glanced around. When had the weather become so gray and formidable? She shivered, hugged herself, and looked down at the small white crystals falling on her sleeve.

  A moving object caught her attention and she jerked her head up, her breath coming in foggy puffs. Her gaze shifted from tree to tree to get her bearings, but her comforting woods seemed very forbidding. Dangerous. Fear bloomed in her chest.

  Quickly making her way to a young, sturdy oak, she shimmied up the trunk. Almost all the brown, curled-up leaves held fast to the branches. Her fingers and nose were practically frozen by the time she stopped climbing. The exertion had warmed her but, as she sat clutching the tree, the icy wind chilled her to the bone.

  She licked her dry, cold lips while the frosty air bit her cheeks. Why hadn’t she grabbed her cloak? Or her shoes? The small crystals gradually turned into fat, wet snowflakes, shrouding her view. The tree creaked and swayed, making her dizzy. She opened her eyes. Was Britta tugging on her skirt? Her brain felt fuzzy and her eyes flickered open and closed. Now open.

  A ghostly voice echoed amidst the trees. No, only the cold permeating her thinking processes. She blinked. Her body slipped a bit. She had to hold on. It was a long drop to the ground. Why am I here again? Time slipped by.

  A shadow moved below. Jubilee closed her eyes for a lengthy moment before opening them. She leaned over, trying to distinguish shapes. The wind whipped through the leaves, stealing her breath, casting snow in her face.

  Was it morning? Why did it seem so dark? Swiveling her head from one side to the other, she pondered whether her mouth was open. Something brushed her arm. Blinking, she fixed her gaze and found white powder. Where had this come from? I should brush it off. She turned her head to stare at her hand, perplexed that it wouldn’t release from the trunk.

  Puzzling. A draft blew in. Was the door open? No, no. She was hiding. While pressing her head against the jagged tree trunk, she attempted to remember her reason for hiding. Had she broken a dish? Was Mrs. Ulster about to switch her? Think.

  The tree tilted again. No, Colvin had come back. Well, he’d never find her here. She was safe. Besides, he’d be gone in a moment. Her head lolled from side to side, the bark scraping her cheek. She grew drowsy as the white blanket enveloped her. Inhale…exhale. Everything turned gray.

  Her left hand flew out into space in an arc, colliding against a rough branch. Her whole body leaned. Where am I? Tired, so tired. Woozy, dizzy, faint. She huffed a short breath and groaned. Her entire being began to relax as she lost the battle with hypothermia. A distant growl eased into her semi-conscious brain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Rafe returned to the outhouse, only to discover it empty. Deciding she must have made her way back into the house, he sprinted to the back of the cabin and yanked the door open. But inside was shadowed and vacant. In confusion he exited and scanned the surrounding area. Where is she?

  He slammed the door closed and tore aroun
d the yard calling her name. Then he strode to the barn to do the same, with no luck. Had she gone with the Larrsons? No, he’d watched them lumber off down the road. He walked slowly away from the barn, searching the surrounding area.

  Suddenly a terrible dread dawned on him as he looked to the left at the wooded tree line. His steps faltered to a stop. That had been where she’d gone after he’d arrived, and again later when the Society’s letter had appeared. Surely she wouldn’t, not in this cold weather. He looked up. The first snowflakes of the season filtered down in tiny flakes. Fear ran up his spine.

  Quickly he returned to the barn and saddled up his horse with great haste. He pulled the gun from where it hung over his bed in the barn, then collected the quilt from the floor of the cabin. Wasting no time, he swung up in the saddle and kicked the horse to a full gallop toward the trees.

  He first rode through the woods, calling her name. How many places might a person hide in such a desolate place? He meandered amongst the frozen undergrowth and soon reached the creek, swollen from the rains last week. He drew Horse to a stop and turned around in the saddle, searching the dreary winter landscape. Already, snow clung to every surface.

  The river’s current was strong, and the water cold and muddy, overflowing its banks. A large tree branch and other debris moved at a good clip with the murky flow. Yet, even with the great volume of liquid that chugged by, not a sound could be heard. The birds, as well, had vanished with their songs, and the calm seemed—deadly. He shuddered and searched the shores.

  “Oh, Lord,” he muttered aloud, “keep her safe and let me find her.”

  With one last glance, he wheeled his horse back to the tree line. She had to be in the woods. As they moved, slowly but steadily, his eyes combed the snowy landscape. How long had she been gone? He looked up into the spikes of the falling snow, the wind whipping the collar of his thick duster. The storm approached white-out. He recalled her cape, hanging on the peg near the door of the cabin. Pushing the disturbing thought away, he stopped at each fallen trunk or snowy glob of thick bushes and thickets. Puffs of frozen air huffed from his lungs.

  God. Help me.

  With a heavy sigh, he headed due east and happened to glance up where the weak light of the sun through the dreary morning clouds lightened the tops of the trees. His throat constricted and his heart seemed to stop dead in his chest. Thirty feet from the ground she hung by one hand, the only thing that kept her from catapulting to the ground.

  Her whole body swayed away from the trunk in the stiff breeze, her left arm drooping lifelessly. And although she was still seated, her legs dangled, motionless. He kicked the horse violently, urging immediate response. He had to get to her before she let go.

  At that moment, a movement from the right sent Horse screaming and lunging away. A sleek, golden cougar sprang from a tree branch and swiped a razor-sharp claw at the horse’s neck. The animal’s awful odor filled the air as the cat bounded up the pin oak where Jubilee hung.

  Horse skittered to the side while Rafe tightened his legs around the frightened animal and eased the gun from the scabbard. Blood pulsated through Rafe’s body. Hunched on a low, thick branch, the cougar pulled back the whiskers of his lips and screeched, displaying a mouth full of incisors big as knives.

  “Whoa,” he muttered, trying to calm the horse but keeping his eyes fastened on the huge feline.

  The cougar bunched his muscles, kneading the bark, preparing to leap. The eyes were like yellow, ethereal pools shimmering in the grey light. Rafe cocked his gun, and the cougar spat and spun before grabbing the trunk with its front paws to ascend. After leveling his gun, he fired. A miss sent the cat skittering higher up the tree.

  Taking big gulps of air, Rafe fumbled with the bullet as he set it in the chamber. Huge snowflakes blurred his line of vision. The cat let out a scream as it settled on a high branch, pawing at the fabric of Jubilee’s skirt. Rafe’s heart went to his throat. How could he aim at it now?

  Like a horrible nightmare, Jubilee’s right arm relaxed and her body fell backward. The cougar flinched and shot out its paws, batting in a rage at the billowing skirt. Jubilee’s legs flipped up and gave up the seat in the tree. She began free-falling like a rag doll, and each branch she struck bent and spun her body.

  The sickening sounds of twigs snapping and crashing sent Rafe’s heels into Horse’s flanks. They swooped under the tree and she landed across his lap with a terrible thump. She groaned on impact, and Rafe clutched her with all his strength. But he couldn’t lose sight of the cat bounding down the tree branches after her. The golden terror gained the lowest branch and, gathering the power in its sinewy haunches, gave a tremendous leap towards them.

  Eyes white, Horse shrieked and lurched sideways, quivering and dancing. Rafe tugged on the rein to spin him, bringing up the rifle that exploded in a horrifying roar, felling the cougar and redirecting its body in a backward motion. The cat fell against the foot of the tree, twitching and writhing. After thrusting in another cartridge, Rafe fired at him again, and the cougar grew still.

  He quickly reined in the horse, pulled the blanket from his pack, and spread it over Jubilee’s freezing body. Dear God, she is so cold. He brought up her head and wrapped the quilt around her back, wondering at her injuries as he moved her. After checking the cat for life one last time, Rafe gathered her against him, then urged Horse toward the cabin, going as fast as she could bear, and prayed over her lifeless body like nobody’s business.

  Gaining the back yard in mere minutes, he threw his right foot over his mount’s head before Horse even stopped and dismounted with her in his arms. He sprinted to the cabin, cradling his precious load. He kicked the door open and laid her on the mattress. He stacked blanket after blanket on her, then pulled a warming brick from the fireplace with a poker and wrapped it in wool, placing it next to her body under the blankets.

  He looked around. What to do now? He had to get a doctor fast, but he didn’t want to leave her. Ivan. He’d ride like the wind to Ivan and have him fetch the man. He went to her bedside, but she was still unconscious. He laid his hand on her forehead. Her skin was pale and chilled.

  Decisively he turned to the door. He must get help. There was no other way. He hurried out the back door, making sure the door was secured, and prayed earnestly as he boarded his restless horse once more. He tugged the reins and directed the animal around the cabin and kicked him into a run down the driveway.

  He’d just turned right as he breasted the row of trees toward town when he distinguished a whistle. Relief washed over him. Ivan, aboard his mount, approached from the north. He whispered a grateful prayer to the Lord and pulled his horse around to gallop to Ivan.

  He called to him through the heavy curtain of snow as he came to a sliding stop. “Ivan. Thank God. Jubilee needs a doctor.” He jerked on the reins to guide his horse back towards the cabin. “And hurry,” he yelled as he was off again.

  He glanced behind him long enough to see Ivan shoot toward town before the trees blocked his view. Quickly he shut the horse into the barn to give it some shelter in the freezing weather. Rafe ran through the snowflakes that had picked up again with a vengeance and Rafe sent up a quick prayer for Ivan and the doctor.

  He went in and tended to the fireplace to warm up the room as much as possible and checked on Jubilee. Terror sliced through him when he discovered several lumps on her head as he probed for injuries but, other than a few scrapes and bruises, there wasn’t a great deal of blood. At least the cougar hadn’t injured her. He made himself settle on the chair next to her bed instead of pace. All he could do now was pray.

  It seemed an eternity until Ivan brought the doctor. He offered to take care of the horse in the barn while Rafe waited for the doctor to check her. Doc was an older man, slightly balding, with spectacles. His face looked grim as he returned to Rafe, who stood beside the table. He removed his glasses and stuck them in his pocket.

  “Well, hypothermia won’t be what does her in,” he began. />
  “Huh?” Rafe demanded, alarmed.

  The doctor held up his arthritic hands. “Now, don’t go jumping to conclusions. I meant she seems to have survived the cold fairly well. It’s the head injuries and the internal injuries I can’t be sure of.”

  Doc took a deep breath. “She has four separate knots to her head, bruising along her right ribs, and a long bruise forming across her back.” He clicked his tongue. “I’d say she’s probably got herself a concussion, some broken ribs, and a possible spinal injury. But that’s just an educated guess, son. I can’t know the extent of those injuries until she wakes up, if she wakes up.” He mumbled the last words, but Rafe heard them.

  “What can be done?” he asked hoarsely.

  Doc shook his head. “Not much, and that’s for sure. I’ll wrap her ribs the best I can without jostling her. There’s no way of knowing the extent of damage she has to her back, so there’s no sense in moving her a lot. I’ll give you some headache powder ’cause if she wakes, she’s sure to have one humdinger of a headache.”

  Rafe’s blood ran cold. He pushed a shaky hand through his hair.

  “Best stay by her so you’ll know when she rouses. She needs to drink as much liquid as she can, and start her on some broth or such once she’s able.” After laying out the bandages he intended to use and setting out the headache powder, he snapped his black bag shut. “That’s about all that can be done.”

  Rafe sat heavily on the bench at the table and watched as the doctor wrapped her ribs. A numbness spread through him as Doc checked her eyes once more. The older man returned to the table to grab his bag before he pulled his coat down from the peg by the door and shrugged it on.

  “I’ll be by in the morning,” he assured Rafe before seeing himself out.

  Rafe stood and took up vigil by her bedside. Ivan came in an hour later to see if there was anything else he could do, and all Rafe could do was shake his head. Ivan assured him that he and Elsa would be praying, and that he’d stop by the following day.