Plains of Promise (Wyoming Series Book 2)

by Colleen Coble

  “I don’t think we’ve met yet,” a soft voice behind them spoke. “Won’t you introduce us, Amelia?”

  Emmie turned to stare into Jessica’s blue eyes. How much did she hear? Emmie’s mouth went dry. Did she hear what Amelia said? But the beautiful face before her gave no clue.

  “Hello, Jessica,” Amelia said. Her voice sounded falsely gay to Emmie, but Jessica didn’t seem to notice. “I heard you were here. Sarah and I had planned to stop in yesterday, but she was not feeling well.”

  “Oh?” The one word and upraised eyebrow spoke volumes. Sure you were, it said. Just as I lost no time in coming to see you.

  Amelia flushed at her tone. “Uhm, this is our dear friend, Emmie Croftner.”

  “Croftner. Where have I heard that name?” Jessica frowned, a gentle ripple in the smooth perfection of her peaches and cream complexion. “You’re not related to Ben?”

  “I’m his sister.”

  “Oh, my.” For a moment Jessica seemed flustered. “Do forgive me. I’m very pleased to meet you.” She held out a tiny gloved hand, and Emmie clasped it briefly. “Well, I do hope to get to know you better in the future. Now I must go. I see Daddy motioning to me.” She gave Emmie an enigmatic look before strolling over to her father.

  “I wonder what she’s up to,” Sarah said as she hurried over to them. “It looked as though she was actually being nice.”

  “I really don’t know,” Amelia admitted. “Maybe she’s changed, but she seemed quite sweet.”

  “We can pray,” Sarah said with resignation. “God’s been telling me to be friends with her, and I know I have to do it, but I haven’t been able to gather up enough courage yet.”

  The furniture had been cleared out of the big meeting room and long tables piled with food lined the west end of the room. The wooden floor had been polished to a brilliant sheen that was a trifle slick to walk on. The band was already warming up at the makeshift bandstand at the other end of the room under the wide eyes of the post children clustered about them. Emmie noticed that Joel had his harmonica with him. She looked around the room and saw Jake wave to them from the food table.

  “Trust that man to find the food,” Amelia laughed as they threaded their way through the crowd. “Eating already?” she asked with a smile.

  “Wait till you taste this apple pie,” Jake said, taking an enthusiastic bite. “Mrs. Horton certainly has a way with dried apples.”

  Amelia pretended to be miffed. “Well, you can just eat at her table every night then. I won’t inflict my poor attempt at culinary arts on you.”

  He put an arm around her. “Now you know I like your cooking just fine.”

  “Just fine, he says.” She punched him gently in the stomach. “When I’ve been an army wife as long as Mrs. Horton, maybe I’ll have a way with dried apples, too.”

  Emmie gave a wistful chuckle. Sarah and Amelia were so lucky. She pushed the memory of Isaac’s smiling eyes away. She would not think about him or any other man!

  The band struck up a lively tune behind them, and Jake took Amelia into his arms. “Time’s a-wasting, gal.” Amelia laughed as he swung her onto the dance floor.

  Rand claimed Sarah a few moments later, and the officers began to line up for a dance with Emmie. She was exhausted within fifteen minutes. The men were so exuberant and determined to have a good time. When there was no lady available, they danced with one another. She passed from one set of arms to another until the faces all became a blur.

  “I think this is my dance.” Isaac cut in on a young lieutenant with a good-natured grin. He spun Emmie away from the disappointed young man. “You look very lovely tonight.”

  Emmie looked away, a tide of red rising in her cheeks. Why did he always have to embarrass her? “It was a very nice ceremony,” she said awkwardly.

  “Wasn’t it?” He drew her closer as the music changed to a slower song and laid his chin on the top of her head. “You are just the right height,” he said softly.

  Emmie felt herself relaxing against his chest. She heard the thud of his heart under her ear and smelled the pine scent of his soap. If I could just stay like this forever, she thought dreamily before she caught herself. No! She pulled away slightly. That was how Monroe had trapped her before. Him with his sweet talk and tender arms. She was soiled goods now, too. Isaac wouldn’t be interested in her if he knew the truth.

  “Isaac, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” a honeyed voice said. “Daddy wants to talk to you.” Jessica laid a gloved hand on Isaac’s arm and gazed up at him with an adorable pout on her lips.

  “I’ll be along in a moment,” he said, pulling away from her gently. “Let me get Emmie some punch first.”

  “No, really, I’m fine,” Emmie stammered. She stepped away from him hastily. “You go on along with Jessica. I’ve promised the next dance to Jake.”

  Isaac hesitated, then allowed Jessica to pull him away. Emmie looked after them with a faint film of tears in her eyes. Why on earth am I crying, she wondered. Isaac meant nothing to her and never could. She blinked the tears away just before Jake came to claim her for his dance.

  “Amelia is determined not to let me sit by her all evening. She says she likes watching us dance as much as if she could dance every dance herself,” Jake said as they swung into a rollicking galop.

  Emmie was breathless by the time they finished the dance. Jake took her elbow and guided her toward the punch table. “I wanted a chance to tell you how much I appreciated the help you’ve been to Amelia,” he said as he handed her a glass of punch. “She was so lonely and blue before you and Sarah came. I haven’t caught her crying once since the two of you arrived.”

  “I haven’t done anything,” Emmie said with a blush. “Sarah is the real miracle worker.” She looked away and took a sip of punch. Sarah had told her it was just strong tea with citric acid in it, but it was really quite good.

  “That’s not true, you know,” he said with a frown. “I’ve seen the way you hover in the background trying to make sure neither one are doing too much. You have a sweet, unassuming way of encouragement about you that has really helped Amelia.”

  Emmie’s blush deepened. “I’m glad if I’ve been able to help her,” she stammered. “There’s no one in the world like Amelia. She’s so trusting of everyone and sees the best in everyone she meets. I wish I could be more like her.”

  Jake smiled. “She’s too trusting sometimes. But you’re right—there’s no one like her.”

  “You love her very much.”

  He nodded. “She means everything in the world to me. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to her.” He looked over to where Amelia sat chatting with Mrs. Horton. “She seems so frail, sometimes it worries me.”

  Emmie laid a hand on his arm. “She’ll be just fine. Dr. Horton is very pleased with her condition. Women have babies all the time, you know.”

  Jake squeezed her hand. “You’re right, I’m sure. Anyway, thank you for all your help.”

  “You’re very welcome.” She watched him stride over to his wife, whose face lit up as she saw him coming. Emmie couldn’t suppress the pang of envy that pierced her heart. Love like that would never be for her. She sighed and took the last sip of her punch before being claimed for another dance.

  §

  The next morning dawned bright and clear. Emmie slipped out of bed and poured cold water from the cracked pitcher into the bowl on the cloth-covered crate that passed as a bed stand. She shivered as she took a piece of flannel and quickly washed herself in the frigid water. She pulled on her blue wool dress and combed her hair up into a serviceable knot, then draped her shawl around her shoulders. She could hear Rand thumping around in the kitchen as he readied for his day. The clear notes of reveille sounded just as she pushed open the curtain from her bedroom and stepped into the small parlor.

  Rand looked up as she entered. “Go on back to sleep. I wouldn’t let Sarah get up, either. I’ll grab some grub at mess so you girls don’t ha
ve to worry about fixing me breakfast.”

  “I don’t mind,” she protested.

  He patted her shoulder as he strode by and seized his coat. “I know you don’t, but I have a busy day today, and I might as well get to it. You get some rest.” He opened the door and stepped out into the still dark morning. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said before closing the door.

  Now what was she supposed to do? She was already dressed and too wide awake to go back to sleep. She tiptoed past Joel, a lump under the covers on the parlor cot with just a tuft of red hair showing, to the bedroom door and peered in at Sarah.

  “Rand wouldn’t let me get up,” Sarah murmured sleepily when she saw her at the door. “I really should, though. I need to take the laundry to Suds Row.”

  “I’ll do it. I’m already dressed and not a bit sleepy. Would you like some breakfast before I go?”

  “No thanks.” Sarah yawned and pulled the quilts up higher on her shoulders. “All I want to do is sleep.”

  “That’s fine. You get some rest. I’ll stop over and check on Amelia after I drop off the laundry.” Emmie closed the door gently. She was so glad her own morning sickness had lasted such a short time and she felt well enough to continue to be a help to Sarah. She threw some more wood in the fire, put a pot of coffee on to boil, and cut a slice of bread for breakfast. By the time she slathered jam on it and gulped it and two cups of coffee down, the bugle sounded fatigue call. She gathered up the laundry into a basket and stepped outside, as men from various parts of the fort hurried to fall in and find out what their duties would be for the morning.

  The sun was just beginning to send pink streaks across the eastern sky as she skirted the parade ground and hurried toward Suds Row. Every fort had a Soapsuds Row, or Suds Row as it was more commonly called. The laundresses were usually either the wives of enlisted men or immigrant women with red, chapped hands and well-developed muscles in their arms and shoulders. Emmie stopped at the first tent she came to. A kettle of water belched out lye-scented steam, but the laundress was nowhere in sight. She set her burden down and rubbed her back, a bit sore from the evening’s festivities.

  As she looked around, she saw a pair of blue eyes regarding her seriously from behind the flap of the tent.

  “Hello, what’s your name?”

  The child didn’t answer but cautiously stepped out from the protecting flap of the tent. A small girl about two years old with a tangled mass of nearly black curls, big blue eyes, and chubby dimpled cheeks gazed up at her.

  “Aren’t you adorable!” Emmie exclaimed. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

  The little girl popped a thumb in her mouth, then took it out long enough to say, “Mary,” before sticking it back in her mouth.

  “Well, Mary, do you know where I might find your mama?” Emmie knelt in front of the tiny girl and touched the dark curls.

  At that moment a young woman scurried from behind the tent with an armload of uniforms. “Sorry I am if ye had to wait, missy,” she gasped in a broad Irish lilt. “I didn’t know ye were here.” Her face softened as she saw Emmie kneeling before the little girl. “I be seeing you’ve made the acquaintance of me sister.”

  Sister? Emmie had assumed the child was the woman’s daughter. They both possessed the same dark curls and deep blue eyes. But as she looked closer, she realized the young woman was hardly more than a child herself. Certainly no more than fifteen or sixteen. “Are you the laundress or should I talk to your mother?” she asked hesitantly.

  The young woman dropped the uniforms beside the kettle of water. “Sure and it’s myself, Maggie O’Donnell, you’ll be wanting, miss. Me mam, God rest her soul, has been with the angels these last two years. The childbed fever took her when Mary here was only six days old.”

  “I’m sorry.” Emmie was intrigued with the energetic young woman. A child raising a child. From her accent, she wasn’t too long out of the potato fields of Ireland. “How long have you been in America?”

  Maggie dumped a uniform into a galvanized tub and proceeded to scrub it vigorously against the washboard. “Me da brought us to the wondrous city of New York just four months before Mary arrived. He took a job with the railroad and moved us to Chicago. But the Lord saw fit to take him of the consumption before he clapped eyes on Mary.” She leaned forward and said in a whisper, “Between you and me, miss, I think me mum died of a broken heart. She had no reason to go on with me da gone.”

  “And you’ve been all alone since?”

  “Just me and Mary taking care of each other.”

  “How did you get out here in the wilderness?” Emmie was fascinated by the young woman’s self-confidence and independence.

  “A chum of me da’s heard the army had a need for a washerwoman out here and arranged for me to have the job. It’s hard work, it is, but honest.” She saw the expression on Emmie’s face. “But don’t feel sorry for me, miss. It’s better work than I could get in Chicago. The only offer I had there was in a bawdry house. But I’d have taken even that if it meant the difference between watching young Mary starve or no.” Maggie stood and pushed a stray black curl out of her eyes. “When you be needing your laundry done by?”

  “Tomorrow is soon enough,” Emmie said. The last thing she wanted to do was add to this young woman’s burden.

  “Won’t be no problem at all. It’s been real nice talking to you. Most ladies don’t bother with the likes of me.” Maggie grinned cheerfully. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I don’t have nothing in common with those high-falutin’ types anyhow. But you’re different, miss.”

  “Please call me Emmie.” She held out her hand.

  Maggie eyed her outstretched hand cautiously before wiping her own water-roughened hand against her apron and taking Emmie’s fingers gingerly. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Emmie.”

  “Just Emmie. I’d like to be friends.” She didn’t know why it was so important to her, but it was. There was something about the young woman that drew her irresistibly. She didn’t know if it was Maggie’s indomitable spirit or harsh circumstances, but she just knew that she wanted to be able to call her a friend.

  Maggie’s eyes grew wide. “Friends with the likes of me,” she said incredulously. Unexpectedly her eyes welled with tears. “Don’t mind me,” she sniffled. “Ever since we got here, it’s like I’m a spirit or something. The other ladies all look through me, and I can tell they think Mary is me own lovely daughter and that I’m an indecent woman.”

  Emmie’s throat grew thick with her own tears. What would everyone think of her if they knew the truth? “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised. Emmie waved to little Mary and set off toward Amelia’s quarters. She was awed by Maggie’s spirit and courage. At least Emmie had Sarah and Rand to look to for support. The young washerwoman had no one, but was still able to smile at circumstances and find a way to support herself and her sister with honest hard work. Emmie wondered if she was a Christian, too, like the Campbells. Maggie’s courage shamed her.

  Amelia had insisted that she just let herself in whenever she wanted to stop by, so Emmie just rapped once on the door and slipped inside. Amelia looked up with a forced smile from her seat on the cot that served as a sofa in the parlor.

  “I was hoping you’d stop by,” she said. “I was just sitting here feeling sorry for myself.” Her smile was gone and tears hung on her dark lashes.

  “Why whatever is wrong?” Emmie quickly crossed the room to put her arms around her.

  “I’m just being a silly goose,” Amelia sniffed. “For the first time I’m really frightened about having this baby. What if something’s wrong with it? Or I could die and leave Jake all alone with a child to raise. Women do die in childbirth, you know.”

  Emmie hugged her. “You’ll be fine, I know. You’re strong and healthy,” she said with more conviction than she felt. She and Sarah had discussed how fragile their friend had been looking the last few weeks.

  “I’m not afraid to die, you know. I know I’ll be w
ith the Lord, but I just don’t want to leave Jake all alone.” Amelia scrubbed at her cheeks with the back of her hand, then turned and looked Emmie squarely in the face. “There is one thing you could do that would make me feel better.”

  “Anything. You want a cup of tea?” Emmie half rose to her feet, but Amelia pulled her back down and gripped her arms.

  “I want you to promise that if anything happens to me, you’ll marry Jake and take care of him and the baby.”

  Emmie caught her breath. What was Amelia saying? She tried to draw away, but Amelia kept a tight grip on her arms.

  “I mean it, Emmie. I’ve thought about it a lot. It would solve your problems, too. Jake would love your baby. He loves children, you know. It would make me feel so much better if I was sure they would be all right no matter what happens.”

  Emmie couldn’t think with Amelia’s beseeching blue eyes fastened on her. How could she ask such a thing? But Amelia had never been like other women. She always thought of others first and never seemed to consider her own feelings. “You can’t just plan Jake’s life for him like that,” she said desperately.

  “Jake has already agreed,” Amelia said with a brave smile. “He pooh-poohed my fears, but he said he’d do whatever I wanted if the worst happened.”

  For an instant a vague image of red hair and blue eyes swam across Emmie’s vision, but she pushed it away. That wasn’t reality. Her friend was reality. But really, what were the odds of anything happening to Amelia? She was just suffering from pregnancy jitters. Everything would be fine; she just needed a little assurance right now. “I promise,” she said reluctantly.

  Amelia smiled with relief. “I feel so much better. Now I’ll take that cup of tea.”

  As Emmie put the kettle on the stove and threw more wood in the fire, she fought down a sense of panic at the thought of her promise. What about her promise to herself never to trust another man enough to marry? But this was different, she told herself. Amelia’s God would not allow anything bad to happen to her. And besides, Jake was totally trustworthy. She just couldn’t see herself married to him. But she wouldn’t have to worry about that, she told herself as she brought the cup of tea to Amelia. She would watch over her friend better than her own mother would. Another month and the baby would be born. Amelia would put these silly fears to rest.