by Jan Holly
That morning, Rose had mentioned wanting to see the river that Charles had described. He wanted to bring her to it on Saturday. It was within walking distance, but Charles hurriedly suggested that they ride there. He wanted to keep Rose off her feet. They could ride there and back, the horses walking at a slow pace the entire way. Rose lit up at the idea of riding her new horse, and Charles knew he had to get her saddle ready and a bridle to boot.
When his work was done for the day, he rode home on Rascal, holding the saddle on one arm.
Rose waved from the porch. “Is that the saddle you used to keep in the parlor?”
He held it out to her proudly from the bottom step. “Sure is. Got a cinch for it and I got a bridle, too. We’re all set for a ride to the river this Saturday.”
Rose frowned, looking perplexed. “It looks a bit small for you,” she said tentatively.
“It was mine when I was a youngster,” he said, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “It’s for you.”
“For me?” She slowly reached out and touched the saddle.
“Yep.” He smiled proudly.
“Why, thank you, Charles, I’m most obliged, I’m sure, but this is a man’s saddle,” she said, looking troubled. “I am sorry you went to such trouble!”
“It will fit you just fine,” he reassured her. “And it will be a perfect fit for Sweetheart, too. The stirrups are adjustable, see?”
“Yes, but, Charles, it is a man’s saddle. It’s a saddle for riding astride,” she explained patiently. “I am sorry. It’s a lovely saddle.”
“Oh,” said Charles, nodding in understanding. “Yes, you’re right. It’s a saddle for riding astride, not for riding side-saddle.”
“I couldn’t ride astride,” she said, looking shocked.
He tried not to laugh. “Well, sure you could. This is the west, after all.”
“No, Charles,” she said, shaking her head resolutely. “I simply could not. A lady does not ride astride a horse.”
He started to feel frustrated and impatient. “A lady does indeed ride astride. It’s safer. No wife of mine is going to ride side-saddle.”
“No wife of yours?” She looked at him incredulously. She frowned.
“Side-saddles are dangerous,” he said, trying to explain what he meant patiently. “The way the saddle is designed is pure foolishness. If the rider falls off, she falls off all wrong. If the horse falls, the rider gets trapped underneath.”
“I can’t ride a horse like a man!” Rose said, raising her voice.
“You wouldn’t be,” he said impatiently. “You’d be riding like a lady -- a lady astride a horse!”
She bit her lip and then turned away, walking into the house.
Charles felt suddenly weary and exasperated, too. “Come on, boy,” he said to Rascal.
He put Sweetheart’s tack down in the barn and let the two horses reunite as he fed and groomed Rascal. Muttering to himself, he tried to calm down and let go of his impatience with Rose’s attitude toward saddles.
“Look, Charles,” she said, turning from the stove when he entered the kitchen. “Look at my dress. See? It would be impossible for me to even consider riding astride a horse. The skirt would have to be arranged to one side of the saddle while riding.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted.
“I have a bit of money,” she said. “I can save up for a lady’s saddle.”
“I don’t need you to pay for anything,” he said, feeling as though storm clouds were gathering within him. “I can pay for things.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean…” Rose turned back to the stove.
“And we don’t need a lady’s saddle for you. We’ve got a lady’s saddle. We can figure out something for you to wear. I’ll ask over at the mercantile.” He tried to speak calmly. Hadn’t she noticed the rose that he had designed on the saddle’s horn, just for her, using a punch and chisel?
She was silent, busily stirring something in a pan. It smelled delicious and his stomach rumbled. He sat at the table.
“I could not possibly wear split skirts,” she finally said, turning to face him. She looked miserable, distressed and angry.
“Split skirts,” he said, nodding. “That’s it. Problem solved.”
“Charles, didn’t you hear me?” She stamped her foot. “No split skirts.”
All of a sudden he felt his patience snap. “Then no riding.”
“Fine!” She turned around, stirring the contents of the pan vigorously.
“Fine!” He got up and left the house, striding past the barn.
Finally, his anger burned away, leaving him feeling confused and frustrated. “Lord, why do I always forget to pray, just when I need to the most?” He took a deep breath in and let it out, looking up at the sky. The sun was getting low in the horizon; there was no fog yet. “Being married, Lord, well, it’s a lot harder than I even imagined. And I haven’t even hardly got started yet! How am I supposed to not lose my patience when she… when she just doesn’t see reason?” He crossed his arms and huffed, shaking his head. “Doesn’t she understand I’m just trying to keep her safe? Provide for her? Be a good husband?” He couldn’t help but smile, remembering her defiant shaking of her head and the sparks snapping in her eyes. “Side-saddle!” His smile became a grin. “What am I going to do with her?”
He turned and began walking back to the house. “Rose?” He called out to her, looking in each room. “Rose!”
“I’m right here!” She waved to him as she left the barn.
They met between the house and the barn and stood awkwardly, neither speaking.
“I saw the rose on the saddle,” she said quietly, looking down.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said at the same time, reaching for her hands.
She looked up, smiling shyly. “It’s so pretty.”
He felt his heart slam and beat double time. That sweet smile. Rose.
“I could ask Mrs. Chadding,” she said softly, “to help me sew a skirt… a riding astride skirt. Charles, I simply can’t abide calling it a split skirt.”
“I’ll never call it that, I promise,” he said, trying not to smile. He pulled her closer and embraced her carefully, keeping distance between them.
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On Saturday, Rose and Charles rode to the river. The horses walked slowly, touching noses often. The sun was high overhead, warming the earth and releasing a sweet, grassy scent.
“We’ll be there soon,” said Charles.
Rose nodded happily, looking into his eyes with a smile. She regarded the land around her. “Everything looks different when you’re on top of a horse. Better!”
“Hold on tight, though,” he said, smiling.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m safe on Sweetheart. And on my saddle!”
Mrs. Chadding had eagerly accepted the challenge of creating a riding skirt. Using an old dress, she cut and tailored it to Rose’s measurements and cut out a swath of material in the center of the skirt. She sewed up the inseams and added some lace from old petticoats at the hem of each side. Rose and Mrs. Chadding were very pleased with the result. Charles said he was, too, and that she looked as lovely as a rose.
As they rode down the dirt path, he said, “You’re pretty as a picture, Rose. You’re a lady through and through.”
She blushed and smiled, looking away. Then she asked, “How fast can we go?”
“Slow,” he said. “Real slow.”
“Next time, though,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Next time, just see if you can keep up with Sweetheart and me.”
Charles looked at her, stunned, before slowly smiling. “Is that right?”
She nodded, looking straight ahead, knowing he was gazing at her. She tried not to smile.
Chapter Nineteen
Doctor Petersen’s eyes were fixed on the doctor from San Francisco, who pressed the stethoscope to Rose’s chest. Doctor Edgar listened intently, moved the stethoscope a fe
w inches, and listened again. He was a short, slight man with dark hair and spectacles. Rose felt the first stirrings of alarm, regarding Doctor Petersen’s expression. Doctor Edgar, his colleague from San Francisco, sat back and removed the stethoscope.
“A normal, healthy heart,” he said matter of factly, buckling his black bag. “Perfect.”
“Normal,” repeated Doctor Petersen, beginning to smile. “Healthy.”
He quickly placed his own stethoscope into his ears and listened to Rose’s heartbeat. After a few moments, he stopped, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
Rose straightened the collar of her dress, checking the top buttons. She was confused about Doctor Edgar’s presence. The two doctors had arrived that afternoon, with Doctor Petersen simply asking if Doctor Edgar could join him. She assumed that Doctor Edgar, being younger, was learning from Doctor Petersen. As she walked them to the porch, a young boy on a donkey raced up to them.
“Doc,” he said, panting. “My mama says please come quick. My daddy fell and his leg is awful bad.”
The doctors swiftly said farewell to Rose and got into Doctor Petersen’s buggy. They hurried to a nearby farm, the boy on his donkey following behind. Within a moment, they were gone. Rose stood on the porch and clasped her hands. She prayed for the man, knowing he must be in agony. She hoped it was a simple injury that would heal quickly.
That evening, as she served dinner, she asked Charles who the man could be, describing the boy and his donkey, explaining what the boy had said to Doctor Petersen.
“Wait,” Charles said, standing up. “You said the doctors? Wait. What?”
“Yes,” she said, turning down the heat. “It was perfect timing. Doctor Petersen and his friend or apprentice were just about to leave after checking on me when the boy came galloping up. Well, the donkey was galloping, I mean.”
“Rose,” Charles said, coming to stand at her side. He nearly stumbled over the chair in his way and it scraped along the floor. He looked at her searchingly. “What did… Did they say anything?”
“No, they left so quickly,” she answered, thinking he must be concerned about the injured man. “I’m sorry, they didn’t indicate who they rushed off to tend to. I do hope that poor man is all right.”
“No,” he said, his face white. “Did they say anything about you?”
She shrugged, confused by his demeanor. “Well, Doctor Edgar, that’s Doctor Petersen’s friend, he listened to my heart, that’s all. And he said it was a normal, healthy heart. That’s all.”
“He said that? That’s what he said? A normal, healthy heart? Anything else?” Charles spoke hoarsely, bracing his hand on the counter.
“Yes, that’s all. He listened to my heart with his stethoscope and then was done, just saying I was normal and healthy, not that I was concerned. Doctor Edgar said my heart sounded perfect, actually. Maybe Doctor Petersen was just teaching him something, I don’t know. Maybe Doctor Edgar is still learning how to be a doctor.”
Right there, Charles sank to his knees.
“Charles!” She was so shocked she froze. “Charles?”
He rested his head on his hands and said something that she could not hear.
She gasped and knelt at his side. “Are you all right? What’s wrong? I’ll get Doctor Petersen!” She held him and touched his face.
He lifted his face, beginning to laugh. “Get the doc? No, I don’t need him. I’m fine, Rose. Just… thankful, is all. Just saying thanks.” He sat back, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Get the doctor,” he repeated, laughing once. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you. Perfect. Thank you. Thank God.”
“Charles, you are really all right?” She sat next to him and took his hand.
“I am, Rose. I was just… worried is all. Just worried about your recovery from the fever, that’s all.” He opened his eyes and brought her hands to his mouth.
“Of course I’m recovering,” she said softly, moving closer to him. “My goodness. You were really worried? All this time?”
He shrugged, not meeting her eyes, and kissed her hands again and again.
“Charles,” she said, going still. “I think… I think Doctor Petersen is having problems hearing. I think he couldn’t hear my heart beat through the stethoscope!”
He raised his eyebrows. “Truly?”
She nodded. “I have a feeling that’s the case. That’s why he had Dr. Edgar accompany him to listen to my heart! Oh, that poor man. We’ll have to wait and see. And pray.”
“Yes,” he said, hoarsely. He coughed and looked up at the ceiling, blinking quickly.
“I love you,” she said, moving even closer.
He gathered her into his arms and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Rose. You have no idea how much.”
“I do,” she said, her arms going around his neck. “I do. Wait. Charles? Have you been worrying… worrying about my heart? All this time?”
He couldn’t speak. He just held her even closer.
“Oh, Charles,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “That’s why… Oh, you should have told me.”
“Doc said not to,” he said.
“Oh,” she said slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes.
He kissed her. He kissed her again and again and again. Or was it just one long kiss?
At one point, still on the kitchen floor, they paused. Smiling and catching her breath, Rose whispered, “I lost count.”
Charles’ laughter filled the kitchen as he stood, helping Rose up.
“Well, my goodness,” said Rose, smoothing her hair as she stood by the stove. “I’ll just heat this up again.”
“It’s good cold,” said Charles, taking her hand. He led her to the table and held out her chair. “Courting married folks like cold dinners here out west.”
“Oh,” she said, laughing softly. “I did not know that. Thank you for enlightening me, Mr. Smith.”
He served their meals and sat down. Their hands met in the middle of the table. Rose felt as though she could not close her eyes and bow her head, so taken was she by the expression in Charles’ eyes.
He cleared his throat. “Rose. Your eyes. You’re so beautiful. How am I supposed to say a blessing when I can’t stop looking at you?”
She blushed, knowing her cheeks were already bright red.
“Heavenly Father,” he said, lowering his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you, Jesus. Amen.”
“Amen,” said Rose, blinking away tears and smiling.
They ate quietly for a few moments.
“Well,” said Charles. “How do you like being courted so far?”
“I find I quite like it,” she said, looking down at her plate and putting down her fork, unable to eat another bite. Her heart was pounding.
“I do, too,” he said. “But I have a question for you.”
She looked up, waiting. When he remained silent, she leaned forward, reaching for his hand again. “What is it, Charles?”
Holding her hand, he stood up. He walked to her side and knelt. He kissed her hand, and taking her other one, kissed that too. “Rose, we met and married so fast we had to step back and court for a while. I never got to properly ask you to be my wife. In the eyes of the Lord we are husband and wife but I’ve got to ask you, straight out, will you marry me? Will you, darling?”
“Charles,” she whispered. He knelt there, waiting, his eyes locked on hers, her hands in his hands. Her heart soared with happiness. “Yes, Charles! I love you… I love you so much.”
“Then, I’d say to you: Dear Rose, I Charles, take thee to be my wife. I thank God for leading you to me and for opening my heart to you. To have and to hold from this day forward, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, forever and ever, amen.”
“And I would say, and I do say, Dear Charles, I, Rose, take thee, as my husband, forever and always, in sickness and health, no matter what comes our way, with every beat of my heart, in good times and hard times. I’ll be with you, loving you forever, amen.”
He stood up and sh
e did too, reaching for him. They embraced. He took her chin gently and pressed a soft kiss on her lips, and waited. Rose felt overwhelmed and took a step back, not looking at him. The kitchen had grown quite dark. Crickets were just starting to sing.
“I’ll just wash up,” she said, hearing how her voice quavered.
“I’ll help,” he said.
She turned toward the sink, but he didn’t follow. She looked back at him and their eyes met. He cleared his throat.
“Dishes can wait,” he said. Then, he held out his hand. “Sometimes, married folks like to turn in early. After a busy day.” He kept his hand out and walked backward two paces, toward his room. Their room.
She looked at his hand and then back up into his eyes. She bit her lip, and smiled, reaching out for him. Their hands met and he pulled her close.
{The End}
Acknowledgements
I would like to acknowledge with gratitude:
Laura Ingalls Wilder and her daughter Rose Wilder for the Little House series which I read countless times as a young girl, and my family and friends who have encouraged and inspired me.
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To any reader who happens to read this and finds inspiration: you are in my prayers.
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I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (NIV)