eight
By the next day both Amelia and Sarah had recovered their health and high spirits. Emmie couldn’t wait to tell them about Maggie.
“I think it’s lovely for you to befriend her,” Amelia said after Emmie’s explanation. “And we will certainly have her to tea. But you should know that the other women will disapprove. Army life is so regulated, and fraternizing with the enlisted men is frowned on here.”
“But she’s not an enlisted man,” Emmie protested. “She’s just a lonely young woman with no friends. I don’t see how being a friend to her could hurt.”
“I know it’s hard to understand,” Sarah said. “But there’s a very rigid code of behavior in the army, and the laundresses are considered beyond polite society by most gentlewomen.”
Emmie stared at them in bewilderment. “The one thing I’ve always noticed about army people is how friendly they are and how easily they welcome new people to the post. Why would they feel that way about someone who earns her living by her own hard work?”
“It’s not that they don’t believe in hard work,” Amelia explained. “It really goes back to when laundresses were kept women who followed after the troops to see to the needs of their men. In the past many were, well I don’t like to say it, but they were scarlet women. Nowadays, many are wives of enlisted men, too. Fraternizing with an enlisted man’s wife is just the same as being friends with him.”
So what does that say about me? Emmie wondered. Does that mean the people who act so kind and friendly now would shun me if they knew the truth?
Sarah saw the stricken look on Emmie’s face. “I’m sorry if we upset you, Emmie. We just wanted you to know what the situation is like here. Of course, we don’t feel that way and we would love to meet young Maggie.”
“It’s not that,” Emmie said, her face flushing with suppressed tears. “I know you’ll both like her as much as I did. It’s just that my reputation would be much worse than hers if the people just knew about Monroe. Maybe I should leave. If your other friends would frown on associating with Maggie, they would really be disgusted with me. The truth will probably come out sooner or later. It always does.”
“Oh, Emmie, anyone who knows you at all knows you’re much too trusting and innocent. They would know you were just deceived by a scoundrel. No one would blame you.” Amelia put her arms around her. “You put any thought of leaving us right out of your head. Besides, it’s much too dangerous right now to even think about leaving the fort.”
Emmie was unconvinced, although she let her friends lead her to the kitchen for a cup of tea and some bread with jam. The shame she’d pushed to the back of her mind swelled up again. No amount of love and acceptance would erase it. Maybe she should just confess it to the world instead of trying to pretend to be something she wasn’t. She was sure Jessica wouldn’t be as charitable about her innocence as Amelia and Sarah were.
That night as she crawled under her quilts and breathed in the scent of her hay-filled mattress, she tried to think about what she could do if she left here. She was still awake at the two o’clock sentry call. As she heard the familiar “All’s well,” tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. All was not well for her. There was nothing else she could do but trust in the mercy of her friends for now. Maybe when spring came, she could think of some way to support herself and the baby. She felt so empty inside. How did her friends remain so calm and assured? Perhaps it was their faith in God. She shivered a little at the sudden thought. Could that be the reason? But God seemed very far away from her, beyond her reach. She was certainly undeserving of any attention from Him.
The next morning Emmie was heavy-eyed and lethargic. She knew her friends worried about her, but no one could help her with her private battle. The week sped by and she was eager to attend the Sunday service. She’d thought often about what the minister had said about God caring for her. She didn’t see how He could. Not after all the things she’d done.
This week he began by reading Isaiah 1:18. “ ‘Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.’ ” The young minister cleared his throat and his eyes seemed to look right into Emmie’s. “No matter what you’ve done with your life, God can forgive it—He wants to forgive it. But you have to be ready to acknowledge your sin to Him. God is the only one you can truly tell your innermost thoughts, doubts, and fears. We all wrestle with our private doubts and troubles, but God can bring the peace and contentment you’re longing for. Running away from a situation won’t bring peace. Only Christ can do that.”
He continued on with the sermon, but Emmie didn’t hear anything else he said. Her throat burned with unshed tears as she considered his words. Peace and contentment. Was there such a thing for her? The very words seemed alien, meant for someone else. The home she’d grown up in was anything but peaceful. Her father was always shouting and cursing, her brothers, especially Ben, filled with even more anger than her father. As the minister reached the end of his sermon, he asked the congregation to bow their heads. Emmie closed her eyes and felt her heart opening like a sponge, ready for the living water the preacher had spoken about. Lord, if You’ll have me, I want to give my life to You. Tears slid silently down her cheeks. Forgive my sins and make me as wool. You know how scarlet my sins are. Wash them away and bring me peace.
As the preacher ended his closing prayer and the congregation rose, Emmie felt as though she was about to float off the floor. She felt new and clean. Was this what peace was?
After the service, she told her friends what she’d done, and they cried and rejoiced with her. She felt as though she could face anything with the Lord beside her. She’d always been so fearful. Of what, she didn’t really know, but the terror had always been there. Ready to spring upon her like a cougar on an unwary doe. Now she felt strong and capable. Even the thought of the life stirring within her didn’t fill her with gut-wrenching fear anymore. For the first time in her life, Emmie felt as though she mattered. She mattered enough for Jesus to die for her. That fact changed everything.
She and her friends spent most afternoons the next few weeks curled up by the fire in the parlor reading the Bible and discussing different passages. There was so much to learn, so much she’d never heard about. As soon as she read Philippians 4:13, she knew it had been written just for her. “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” The verse was a litany that sounded in her head all the time. Every time a twinge of doubt in herself would raise its ugly head, the comforting words would subdue all her fears.
Isaac stopped by every couple of nights, but she had no opportunity to talk with him alone. Not that she wanted to, of course. He rejoiced with them at the news of her salvation.
Emmie was so full of contagious joy and courage that Sarah was emboldened to go across the parade ground to the DuBois residence. Jessica had ushered her in, but she laughed when she’d asked her forgiveness, Sarah told Emmie later. Jessica told her she didn’t want anything to do with God or Sarah’s self-righteous pap and showed her the door. Sarah just seemed to pray for her more often. She told Emmie she thought she saw tears in Jessica’s eyes for a moment.
§
As November began, winter settled its icy claws more firmly into the little fort community. Cold, piercing winds, mountains of snowdrifts, and bitter cold kept the ladies constantly looking for ways to keep warm. The wood details, escorted by guards, went out every day but could barely keep up with the demand, even though wood had been stockpiled for several months. The ladies ventured out only when absolutely necessary. Even a brisk walk from quarters to quarters left them numb with cold.
Emmie couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t ache with cold. The wind howled around the tiny fort like a pack of ravenous wild dogs, poking icy fangs through her skirts that chilled her to the bone. Early one cold morning, she bundled her cloak around her as tightly as she could before picki
ng up her basket and heading for the sutler’s store. Sarah had been craving fruit, any fruit, so Emmie thought she would see what was available. The price would be dear, but Rand had told her to get whatever she could find. He worried a lot about his wife these days. Sarah seemed pale and listless, but Emmie thought it was the confinement of the tiny fort and the especially cold weather they’d been enduring that caused her friend’s wan appearance. There had been constant skirmishes with the Indians, and the little graveyard beside the fort received a newly fallen soldier almost every day. The ever-present fear hung like black crepe over the encampment.
She staggered to keep her balance in the wind as she hurried as fast as she could toward the sutler’s store. As she passed the DuBois residence, she saw Jessica motion to her. What now? She stopped for a moment before obeying her imperious summons. She had managed to avoid any contact with Jessica since the dance and since Sarah’s encounter with her. The cold air followed her into the foyer as Jessica shut the door behind them. Emmie glanced around quickly as she followed Jessica into the parlor. The fireplace blazed with warmth and cast a golden glow over the gleaming mahogany furniture. The parlor looked lovely and welcoming, but the look on Jessica’s face was just the opposite.
“I’ve been watching for you,” Jessica said. “You haven’t been out much.” Her eyes swept contemptuously over Emmie’s plain gray dress and bonnet.
“Sarah hasn’t been well. I really can’t stay. I need to get back to her as quickly as possible,” Emmie said timidly. She shrank away from the cold smile on Jessica’s face. She couldn’t imagine what Jessica would want with her. And what did that triumphant glint in her eye mean? Her nervousness increased a notch as Jessica allowed a strained pause to drag out.
“This won’t take long,” she said finally with another chilly smile. “I just thought it was important that we get a few things settled between us.”
“What kinds of things?” Emmie’s agitation grew as Jessica stepped in closer. Her sweet, overpowering scent made Emmie’s head swim.
“I’ve seen the way you look at Isaac. My father wants me to marry him, and I intend to do just that. Rand chose that chit of a girl over me, and I refuse to be humiliated again.” She pushed her face into Emmie’s. “I know all about you, Miss Croftner. I contacted a cousin who made some inquiries for me. I know that the child you’re carrying is a bastard and you’ve never been married. If you force me to, I’ll let everyone here know all about it.”
Emmie felt faint. This was her nightmare come true. She couldn’t stand for anyone to know about her shame. It would reflect on her friends, too. She clutched icy hands in the folds of her cloak and swallowed hard.
Jessica saw her white face and smiled again. “You are to stay away from Isaac. Make it clear you have no interest in him at all. If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to let everyone know you lived with a man out of wedlock.”
“But I thought I was married!” Emmie protested. “It wasn’t like you’re making it sound.”
“Look at you! Why would anyone marry you except for your money? If you were too stupid to figure out what the man was after, that’s your problem.” She flicked a disparaging hand at Emmie. “Oh, you’re not unattractive, I suppose. That helpless look probably brings out the protective nature in some men. But the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know. You’re no better than your brothers, and anyone who knows them would instantly know what kind of person you are behind that little-girl-lost facade.”
Emmie paled and tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. She willed them not to fall with a fierce determination. She didn’t want to let Jessica see how much her words had hurt her. Monroe had told her she was beautiful, but she’d always known it couldn’t be true. She’d been so foolish. So easily swayed by Monroe’s smooth words. She swallowed hard and stiffened her shoulders. “You needn’t worry about me, Miss DuBois. I have no interest in Isaac. He is merely a friend.”
Jessica’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Emmie. “I certainly hope that’s true. For your sake, it had better be.” She opened the door and practically pushed Emmie through it. “And don’t tell anyone about our conversation. Not if you want your little secret to remain between the two of us.”
Emmie found herself staring at the brass knocker as the door slammed behind her. She gulped and forced herself to walk down the steps on shaky legs. She had always hated confrontation of any kind. It brought back too many bad memories of the constant barrage of abuse her father had heaped on her head. No matter what went wrong when she was growing up, it was always her fault. If Ben spilled his glass of milk, it was because Emmie filled it too full. If Labe forgot to feed the stock when it was his turn, it was because Emmie forgot to remind him. She swallowed the lump in her throat. No one must know. She couldn’t bear it if Sarah and Amelia were hurt because of her foolishness over Monroe.
The walk in the cold wind stiffened her resolve, and she had quit shaking by the time she pushed open the door to the sutler’s store. The smell struck her as she stepped across the threshold. The overpowering stench of unwashed bodies mixed with cinnamon, coffee, tobacco, and vinegar from the pickle keg nearly gagged her. She quickly picked up a handful of wrinkled apples and paid for them, aware of the stares of the Indians and soldiers alike. The sutler’s store was always such a trial to endure. It wasn’t so bad when she was escorted by Rand or Jake, but a young woman alone attracted a lot of attention.
She escaped into the fresh air and hurried back to the Campbell quarters. Sarah looked up as she burst through the door. Emmie had intended to tell her friend about the confrontation with Jessica, but after one look at Sarah’s pale, pinched face, she decided against it. Now was the perfect time to put into practice what she’d been learning the past few weeks. She whispered a silent prayer and turned the whole matter over to God. He would take care of it. He’d promised to take care of her and He would. She put on a bright smile as she closed the door behind her.
“I found some lovely apples at the sutler’s store,” she said proudly. “They’re a little wrinkly, but they don’t seem to have any bad spots. Here, smell.” She put a small apple under Sarah’s nose. “They should make delicious apple dumplings.”
Sarah took the apple slowly and sniffed. A ghost of a smile brightened her face, then she lay back against the cushions on the parlor cot. “You are a dear.” She handed the apple back to Emmie. “I don’t know why I feel so poorly,” she sighed. “The winter is just beginning and already the wind is about to drive me mad.”
Emmie sat beside her and put an arm around her slim shoulders. “God is here with you, though. I have so much peace since I realized that. Now the vastness that used to terrify me when I looked around outside just reminds me how powerful He is.”
Sarah smiled at her. “You put me to shame sometimes, Emmie. You’re right, of course. I shouldn’t complain. At least I’m here with Rand and not stuck back east with my brother. God has been good to us. With all the fighting going on, Rand hasn’t been wounded and neither has Jake. We should count our blessings.”
Emmie hugged her again. “I think I’ll get started on those apple dumplings. You rest a while.” She stood and went to the kitchen, all of three steps away. She hummed as she took down her apron and wrapped it around her waist. Hmm, it seemed her waist had thickened just since yesterday. She took down a tin of flour and dumped some into a bowl. “What time did Rand say to expect him?” she asked.
“He sent Joel by to tell us he’d be late. That reckless Lieutenant Fetterman has finally talked Colonel Carrington into letting him try an ambush. The colonel asked Rand to go along to keep Fetterman out of trouble. They’re taking some mules as bait, but Joel said Rand thought it was a harebrained scheme. Red Cloud is no fool, but Fetterman is hotheaded and thinks all Indians are stupid and slow.”
Emmie sighed. Always there was fighting. Every day, every hour they listened for the crack of rifles in the cold winter air and the war whoops of the Sioux. There was never a
respite. As she kneaded the dough and sliced the apples, she and Sarah chatted about everything except the one thing they both listened for. Through the long afternoon and early evening, they waited and talked to fill the waiting. Only when they heard Rand’s boot heels and Joel’s excited chatter as they came up the front porch did they relax.
Rand came in, stomping his feet in the entry and reminding Joel to do the same. His face was pale and pinched with the cold. Sarah rushed to help him out of his snow-covered greatcoat. He shrugged it off and dropped onto the cot with a sigh. He held out his hands toward the roaring fire as Sarah sat beside him.
“I expected you before now,” she said softly.
“You should have seen it,” Joel put in excitedly. “I was watching from the blockhouse. The Sioux knew it was a trap. They just waited Fetterman out, then slipped behind the fort and stampeded the cattle. Fetterman looked as savage as a meat axe.”
“Joel!” Sarah spoke sharply.
He looked sheepish. “Well, that’s what Rooster said.”
“You’re not to talk disrespectful of your elders.”
Her brother scuffed a toe on the floor. “He sure was mad, though. He told the colonel he wanted to go out after them right then and there, but the colonel wouldn’t let him. He stomped off with Lieutenant Grummond. They were both grumbling.”
Emmie broke in hurriedly. “Your supper’s ready.” She didn’t want to hear about any more battles. She watched as Sarah put a hand on Rand’s arm, then hurried to fix him a plate of thick stew and warm slices of bread with butter. She fixed a smaller plate for Joel.
“Joel’s right,” Rand said after a few bites of supper. “Fetterman is spoiling for a fight with the Sioux. He’s going to wind up with his hair lifted if he isn’t careful. He’s rash, and I’m afraid he’ll drag Lieutenant Grummond into a losing battle with him. Neither one of them have any respect for the way an Indian can fight. They haven’t been out here long enough to have a little sense knocked into them.”
Plains of Promise (Wyoming Series Book 2) Page 9