Prairie Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

“Yes, William, I remember,” she replied, pasting a smile on her face as she tripped and fell into the boat.

  “Careful, missus. You don’t want to get wet. You’ll catch your death, what with this frosty night air,” the captain warned.

  “Thank you so much for your concern, Captain,” Hannah replied.

  “Was there a note of insincerity in that ‘thank you’?” William inquired as the boat cut slowly through the water toward shore.

  “Perhaps just the tiniest bit,” Hannah replied with a giggle.

  By the time the small family and their belongings had finally been deposited at Pike’s Ferry, Hannah’s laughter had subsided. In fact, she was now attempting to hold back a floodgate of tears. She chewed upon her lower lip, but it didn’t work. The tears rolled freely down her cheeks as dusk gave way to twinkling stars bursting through the darkening sky and the chill of a damp frost invaded the countryside.

  “There’s nothing in sight, William, not a sign of habitation. What are we going to do?”

  “First of all, we’re going to remain calm. The owner of the ferry must live nearby. We will probably find a homestead clearing just beyond these woods. I want you and Elizabeth to remain here. I’ll go and see if I can find someone. Everything will be fine—you’ll see,” he said, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

  The warmth of his body radiated through her like the warmth of a glowing ember. She pressed tightly against him, drawing from his body heat and attempting to ward off the chill of fear that now attacked her very soul.

  “Please, William. You can’t leave us. What if something happens to you out there? What would we do? We’d never survive.”

  “Of course you would. Besides, nothing is going to happen. Remember who brought us here, Hannah. While I’m gone, perhaps you could ask for some divine guidance.”

  “Yes, William, of course. I’m being foolish. I’ll be in prayer while you look for help. You’re right. Everything is going to be wonderful.”

  “Now don’t put words in my mouth, Hannah. I never said everything was going to be wonderful,” he said as he gave her a smile. “I’d best be on my way before it gets any darker. You stay right here, no matter what. You understand?”

  She nodded her head in agreement as he turned to go.

  “William, wait!”

  Without further thought, she rushed to him, pulled his head down to hers, and firmly kissed his lips. “Hurry back,” she begged, her heart pounding so loudly that she could barely hear her own words as she spoke.

  His eyes filled with a profound passion that ignited a spark of love deep inside her very being. Pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly, his mouth coveringhers with kisses as he murmured her name over and over again. Her knees felt as though they would capsize beneath her. She clung to him, hungry for his touch and craving his love with a raw emotion that she had never before felt.

  Without warning, he pulled away from her. “I must leave now. Otherwise, I’m going to break my promise. I’ll be back soon,” he called over his shoulder.

  Hannah dropped onto one of the trunks, her legs now unable to hold her upright. Her body was trembling, but not from the cool night air. What was happening? Was this the love God created for man and wife? Was it possible that she had fallen in love with her husband?

  Dropping to her knees on the bare, cold ground, Hannah looked upward. “Oh Father, I don’t know why You want me in this place, but I’m trying my best to follow Your direction. I come now to thank You for sending William. I pray that You will protect him as he seeks help for us. I think I may be in love with him, and for that I’m eternally grateful. Show us Your will for our lives and what You would have us do in this place called Pike’s Ferry, for it certainly escapes my humble knowledge, Lord. Thank You for Your provision thus far. Amen.”

  Pulling a quilt from one of her trunks, Hannah tightly tucked it around the soundly sleeping Elizabeth. The star-filled canopy of heaven hung overhead, while the deep, silent river ran in front of her and dark woods stood looming to the rear. There was no place to go, nothing to do—nothing but to trust in God. It seemed as though hours passed, but she had no way of knowing for sure. The sky grew darker. More stars hovered above. And the moon shone brighter and larger than when they had first arrived.

  The sound of barking dogs in the distance caused Hannah to snatch up Elizabeth. As the sounds grew louder, she clutched the child all the more tightly, wondering where she could possibly hide should the wild dogs seek them out and attempt an attack. She certainly couldn’t go into the river. And running into the woods wasn’t practical. The dogs would hunt them down in no time.

  Cradling the baby, she rocked back and forth, fear rippling through her body as the barking continued—growing louder and more incessant with each passing moment. Then she heard it, the breaking of nearby branches as the animals approached. She could hear them panting and see their eyes glistening in the moonlight as they coursed toward her with long, calculated strides. The first one arrived, closely followed by three others, forming a semicircle around her and Elizabeth as they howled to their master that they had found their prey.

  “Back off, you dogs,” a deep voice bellowed in the distance. “Get back afore you scare the poor woman to death,” he hollered at the dogs as they chased back and forth between the approaching wagon and a tearful Hannah, guarding her daughter.

  “Hannah! It’s me, William. The dogs will do you no harm,” he called out while racing toward her. “Are you all right?” he asked as he reached the small clearingwhere she stood cradling Elizabeth in one arm while holding a large stick in her opposite hand.

  “Oh, William! I was so frightened. I thought they were wild dogs. I see you found someone,” she panted, unable to gain control of her emotions as she stared toward the unkempt-looking man sitting atop a mule-drawn wagon.

  “I did. This, my dear, is Mr. Henry Martin,” William announced.

  “It is? I mean, how do you do, Mr. Martin? It’s a pleasure to meet you. My late husband was in correspondence with you. That is to say, we purchased land from you,” she stammered.

  “So your present husband says,” the man dryly remarked as he spit a stream of tobacco juice from between his front teeth. “You planning to spend the night out here jawing, or you want to load up and get back to my place?”

  “He’s certainly rude,” Hannah whispered to William.

  “So I’ve noticed,” William replied.

  “We appreciate your invitation, Mr. Martin,” she called out as the man jumped down and began tossing their belongings onto the wagon. “We’ll do that, Mr. Martin. Some of my dishes are in those barrels.”

  “Ain’t no need for fancy dinnerware in this part of the country. Couple of tin pans and some iron cooking pots will serve you better,” he replied with a snort as he continued loading the wagon.

  “I’ll load those things, Mr. Martin. Why don’t you see to your dogs, and then I’d appreciate your help with the heavier pieces,” William diplomatically suggested.

  “Yeah, guess I better get them dogs in tow, or they’ll be off and chasing after raccoons all night.” Jumping down from the back of the wagon, he began hollering and calling the dogs, with his temper reaching fever pitch by the time he’d gotten them under control.

  Hannah was thankful that few items remained unloaded by the time Mr. Martin returned to the wagon with the animals. He helped William lift the last of the heavy furniture and ordered Hannah to take the baby and be seated in the rear. She did as she was told without a word. Obviously Mr. Martin’s manners matched his appearance, and she was too tired to argue.

  After a few unseemly words and the crack of his whip, the team of mules finally moved forward. The wagon creaked under its burden as they lumbered down an overgrown cattle track. When they finally came to a halt, Hannah stared in utter disbelief. She had seen the large plantation homes and even the slaves’ quarters as they had traversed the Mississippi, but she had seen nothing qu
ite like the dwelling that stood before her. The house, made of hewn logs, squared and notched to each other with gaping spaces between the timbers, defied any architectural structure she had ever seen.

  The front door opened, and a small-framed woman came out to greet them. Her wispy gray hair appeared to shoot about in every direction, and a trail ofsmoke circled above her head as she puffed on a pipe held between tightly clenched teeth.

  “Whatever have I gotten us into?” Hannah whispered as William helped her out of the wagon.

  “I’m not sure, my dear, but I think we both should keep praying!”

  Chapter 5

  Get on in here,” the sprightly little woman commanded. “It’s too cold to hold this door open much longer.”

  “Then close it! I can open it myself when I’m ready to come in,” Mr. Martin hollered back at her. “I never asked you to open it in the first place!”

  It seemed to Hannah that the woman found great delight in slamming the door. Meanwhile, Mr. Martin continued to unhitch the mules as though nothing were amiss.

  “Do you think this is their normal exchange of conversation?” Hannah whispered to William.

  “As far as I’ve observed, it seems to be. They’re a strange couple,” he advised in a quiet voice.

  “You may as well go inside while I finish tending to the animals. We’ll leave your belongings on the wagon unless there’s something you need tonight.”

  “No, this one small trunk and the baby’s cradle are all we need,” William replied. “Come along, Hannah. Let’s get you and Elizabeth by the fire. Don’t expect much. The inside of the house isn’t any more attractive than the outside,” he quietly warned as he banged on the door.

  “Let yourself in,” Mrs. Martin called from inside.

  William pushed open the door and stepped aside, permitting Hannah to enter. She knew she was staring, but the interior of the cabin was so unsightly, so contrary to what she had anticipated, that she couldn’t help herself. She could sense Mrs. Martin watching her, probably thinking her completely ill mannered and rude.

  “I know what you must be feeling,” Mrs. Martin said, breaking the silence.

  “You do?” Hannah questioned, knowing that she must now apologize.

  “‘Course I do. You’re looking around here wondering just how long it’s gonna take afore you and your mister have a place as fine as this. Well, I can tell you it’s taken us nigh onto three years to get this place looking this good.”

  “Three years?” Hannah gasped.

  “I know, I know. You just can’t imagine having anything like this in a mere three years. Your place may take a mite longer, but if you work hard, you’ll make it,” she encouraged.

  Hannah sat down on the rough wood bench and surveyed the room. A few boards had been nailed together in the form of a table and were attached by leather hinges to the timber walls of the cabin. Mrs. Martin proudly called it her “sideboard.” In the center of the room stood another small table. This one, covered with a piece of coarse brown calico, appeared to be the dining table. The most respectable furniture was a set of four chairs with seats of plaited hickory bark. In addition to the chairs, there were two stools and the bench upon which Hannah was now seated. Along the entire end of the house, there was a grotesque stone chimney.

  “Your chimney,” Hannah said but then faltered.

  “It’s a beauty, ain’t it? All them stones was gathered off our land.”

  “I see,” Hannah replied while trying to understand the woman’s pride in such a crudely assembled object. “And what is it that you’ve used to hold the stones in place? It certainly doesn’t appear that it’s cement.”

  “‘Course not. It’s a mixture of clay and mud. Same thing we use between the timbers of the house. We haven’t finished that just yet.”

  “So I see,” Hannah remarked while observing a clumsily fashioned candlestick made from an ear of Indian corn, two or three warped trenchers, and a few battered tin drinking vessels sitting on the hearth. In the far corner stood farm tools, made with the same poor workmanship as was evident in everything else in the house. Suspended from the roof were a variety of herbs alongside several smoked hams and sides of bacon, and a rifle hung over the fireplace.

  “Oh, and wait till you see this. Put the baby down and come in here,” she ordered. Hannah followed the woman into the adjoining room, where Mrs. Martin pulled four large earthenware pots of honey from beneath the bed. “This here’s a real treasure. Ain’t nothing like coffee with a spoonful of honey. And this is my hand loom, but I guess you knew that,” she continued, pointing toward the weaving machine. “Come along and I’ll show you the cellar,” she proudly insisted while taking the candle from the hearth and leading the way downward. “We growed this tobacco ourselves,” she announced as she pointed to a pungent mound of the product that appeared sufficient to serve an ordinary smoker for a lifetime. “We’ll have an even bigger crop next year.”

  Hannah gave a weak smile. “Lard?” she inquired, motioning toward two rough-hewn tubs filled with the solid whitish substance.

  “Right you are, missus,” the woman replied as she continued pointing to an assortment of dried vegetables and meat stored in the dark room.

  Hannah attempted to appear dutifully impressed with the stockpile, but the pretense was growing more difficult by the moment. When Mrs. Martin was finally convinced there was nothing else that she could show Hannah, the twowomen returned to the main room, where Mr. Martin and William were deep in discussion. William appeared to look displeased, but why shouldn’t he be? Hannah wasn’t overly delighted, either. The Martins were certainly not the genteel people her deceased husband had described to her back in England, nor was the homestead what he had depicted.

  “Come sit down, Hannah,” William said, looking toward her and indicating the chair beside him. “I know you are weary. I think we all are,” he said, glancing about the table.

  “That’s a fact,” Mr. Martin agreed. “We can finish our business come morning. You folks can make a pallet in front of the fire. Get some blankets, woman,” he ordered his wife.

  “Already done it,” Mrs. Martin replied, indicating a worn quilt and a woolen blanket piled near the hearth. “Best I got to offer,” she said. “No extra charge.”

  Hannah laughed. “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll put them to good use. The night air coming through these walls—“

  “If you don’t like what we got to offer, you’re free to go elsewhere,” Mr. Martin interrupted.

  “No, no. I only meant that we would use the blankets and appreciate your hospitality. I certainly didn’t mean to offend you or your wife,” Hannah quickly apologized.

  The man nodded his head. “In that case, no offense taken. We’ll be turning in for the night,” he said, motioning his wife toward the bedroom.

  Hannah and William waited until the Martins left the room, and then William unfolded the blankets on the floor, being careful to spread them far enough from the fireplace to avoid any embers that might escape.

  “We need to talk,” William whispered a short time later.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Mr. Martin insists that Edward never sent any money for the land.”

  “That’s a lie, William!”

  “Keep your voice down. They’ll hear us,” William warned.

  Hannah nodded, but in truth, she wanted to rush into the other room and confront Mr. Martin at that very moment. How dare he say such a thing!

  “Did you ask him how we knew about this place?”

  “Of course. He doesn’t deny that he corresponded with Edward. He claims that the two of them had reached a final agreement, all except for the payment of the money. Now he says he’ll sell us the land for the same price that he negotiated with Edward.”

  “Oh, the gall of that man!”

  “I did gain one concession that I think will please you,” William said with a mischievous smile.

  “And what might that be?”

/>   “Since tomorrow is Sunday, I inquired if we might ride along with the Martins to church.”

  “That does please me. I don’t mean to sound judgmental, William, but Mr. Martin doesn’t seem to be much of a Christian.”

  “Well, I don’t know whether he professes to be a Christian or not, but he doesn’t attend church.”

  “Then how are we supposed to go with them?” Hannah asked while trying to hide her exasperation.

  “He gave me instructions on how to get to the church, and he said we could use his wagon and mules—for a price, that is.”

  Hannah shook her head. “That man has no conscience, William. Unfortunately, there is no way I can prove that Edward paid for the land. Why would God want me to come all the way to this place to be made a fool of by Henry Martin?”

  “I doubt that was God’s intention, Hannah. I’d say it’s time we did some more praying about this situation. Perhaps you’ll have another revelation,” he responded and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I think we’d do well to follow Elizabeth’s example and get some sleep. Morning will come soon enough.”

  “I can’t go to church looking like this,” Hannah mumbled as she attempted to straighten the wrinkles out of the rumpled dress she had worn for several days.

  “Don’t you have another in the trunk?” William inquired, motioning toward the small chest he’d brought in the night before.

  “Yes, of course,” Hannah replied, brightening.

  “And you can use our bedroom to dress yourself and the baby. I’ll fetch some water so you can wash yourself,” Mrs. Martin graciously offered, much to Hannah’s surprise.

  “Why, thank you. That’s very kind,” Hannah replied.

  “I think I may have misjudged her,” Hannah told William a few moments later when Mrs. Martin was out of earshot.

  “Don’t be too sure,” William said with a smile. “While you finish dressing, I’ll go and make sure that Mr. Martin hasn’t forgotten our arrangement to use the wagon.”

  “Here we are,” Mrs. Martin said as she entered the house, carrying a bucket of water. “I’ll just heat some of this water while you’re feeding the baby. That’s a lovely dress you’ve got there.”