Owen Family Saga Box Set: Books 1-3

by Ward, Marsha

  Hannah stood up. The trousers and her mending supplies tumbled onto the floor as she ran into the bedchamber, snatched the pitcher out of the washbasin, and threw up.

  After spewing her luncheon into the white ceramic bowl, she slowly raised her head, picked up the towel, and wiped her mouth. That’s twice today, she thought, wringing the cloth in fisted hands. It’s getting so hard to keep this a secret. She blew out slow breaths through pursed lips, hating the smell of the vomited material. She wrinkled her nose, but picked up the basin, went to the open window, closed her eyes, and threw out the waste. Someone below yelped in protest, and Hannah felt shame that she hadn’t looked before she tossed out the vomit, but she moved out of sight and put the basin on the stand.

  The odor remained in the room, filling it like the noxious fumes from a pile of manure. Taking small, slow actions so as not to alarm her stomach, Hannah poured a little water from the pitcher into the bowl, rinsed it with a slow swirling motion, looked out the window to be sure no one was below, and emptied the foul brew into the street. She lit a candle, blew it out, and moved it slowly through the air to kill the odor.

  When she put the candle on the washstand, she sighed in relief. The air seemed to be cleaner. Now no one would know she had thrown up.

  Hannah backed to the bed, and slowly lay across it. I’ll just rest for a minute. Mrs. Coley won’t be here for the mending until five o’clock.

  She woke to footsteps in the sitting room. The pall of sleep still rested heavy on her body and her mind, but she pushed herself to her feet and staggered from the room to see her mother taking off her bonnet.

  “Ma! Why are you home?”

  “It’s time for me to be here, daughter. I imagine it’s almost five.”

  “Oh no!” Hannah stumbled across the room to her chair and bent to retrieve the mending and her sewing materials from the floor. “This batch is due to be finished by five. How on earth did I nod off?”

  Mrs. Bingham took the trousers from Hannah. “What is needed besides mending this hole?”

  “That’s all. I’ve finished everything else, but I went into the bedroom to—” Her eyes went wide, and she stood still.

  “I’ll complete this work, my dear,” her mother said, sitting down. “You seem somehow frazzled. You say you were sleeping?”

  “Yes. I just lay down for a moment, and I don’t know what happened to me.”

  “You have suffered quite a deal of tumult, my dear. If you wish to finish your nap, I don’t mind whipping a few stitches into these britches.” She smiled, evidently pleased with her joke, and sat herself in the chair Hannah had occupied an hour previously.

  “Thank you, Ma.” Hannah stepped backward, turned, hurried into the bedroom, and approached the washstand.

  “Oh,” she gasped. Her stomach clenched, but there was nothing within it to come forth, so she heaved helplessly as the convulsive waves racked her body. A small part of her mind wished she had closed the door behind her. What if Ma hears? she thought. I can’t bear it if she comes in and sees me.

  At last the nausea passed. Hannah went and shut the door, and sat on the bed. If this baby were gone, I wouldn’t throw up.

  The thought buzzed in her head, twisting and turning, mixed with denial that her mind had conjured such an idea. “That’s a sin,” she said, clapping her hands over her mouth, afraid her mother had heard. Afraid that if she came in, she would read the wicked thought hanging in the air.

  If the baby were gone, I’d be rid of the shame.

  Oh God, oh God, she prayed. Take this evil thought out of my mind. I’ll give the baby away. Some barren woman won’t mind having the child of a monster. I won’t tell her that’s what it is.

  But if I carry the baby, Robert will hate me. He’ll hate the child. He’ll be so disgusted. Maybe he’ll leave me. I can’t bear that.

  Hannah covered her eyes and sobbed, beaten down by her ghastly situation. I can’t tell Robert! she thought, and mourned the loss of her close relationship with her husband.

  ~~~

  At the table in the family’s combination cooking-eating-sitting room one Sunday afternoon, Robert paused from doing sums with a stubby pencil and scrap paper and watched George count coins into stacks. Mrs. Bingham wrote a letter; Luke whittled softwood by the front door; and the young women on the sofa took turns modeling an unfinished shop hat Jessie had brought home. Meanwhile, Ned dozed in a window chair, and his soft snores punctuated the others’ conversation.

  “Do we have enough?” George asked.

  Robert took up his pencil and finished the calculations. After a minute, he stood up and stretched. His shoulders ached, and the motion felt good. He twisted his head from side to side, and his neck cracked. “Ahhh,” he said, letting his shoulders fall into place. Then he sat down.

  “You’re doin’ that to keep me in suspense,” George said, grinning. “Do we have enough?” His words were deliberate.

  “Nearly so.” Robert gave a short, barking laugh. “In all honesty, I want to purchase that prairie schooner from Mr. Grant.” He moved a coin back and forth on the tabletop with his fingertip. He looked at the figures on the paper. Then he nodded at the pot of bean soup that stood on the stove. “I reckon if we work another week and continue to eat plain food, we can make our deals for wagons and supplies, and depart within a fortnight.”

  George smiled hugely. “That is good news, Robert. Thanks for doing the sums.” He clapped Robert on the shoulder. “I can figure how much seed is needed to sow a field, but real money figures are beyond my understanding.”

  George rose from the table and looked at the women. “I’m going for a walk. Will you come with me, Mrs. Heizer?”

  Heppie looked up, a smile quirking her mouth. “Yes,” she said. “I think it’s a lovely day.” She got off the sofa and removed the apron she still wore from preparing dinner. “Will any of you come with us?”

  Amid a widespread shaking of heads, George and Heppie prepared to depart for their stroll.

  “Wait just one moment.” Mrs. Bingham stopped them. “Can you post this letter for me? I’ve written at last to let Maxwell know we’re on our way.”

  Heppie took the letter, and she and George left.

  Robert scooped the cash and coins into a canvas bag, drew the cords shut, and knotted them together. He hid the bag behind a cracker tin on a shelf, and turned to survey the room.

  Hannah and Jessie still sat on the sofa, measuring a feather affixed to the side of the hat.

  “Is it just a mite too long?” Jessie asked. “Shall I snip it down?”

  “I suppose it’s fine,” Hannah said, shrugging. “It’s not to my taste. I’ve never liked feathers on a hat.”

  “You’ve never had feathers on a hat,” Jessie joked, wiggling the plume against Hannah’s upper lip.

  “Don’t do that!” Hannah shouted, and bounced to her feet. “You know I can’t abide tickling.”

  Robert crossed the room and took Hannah by the hands. “I also need a walk, my dear. Come with me so I won’t be alone.”

  “I don’t want to—” she tried to protest, but Robert shushed her with a wave of his hand.

  “I think you need the air,” he said, gently tugging her toward the door. “You’re looking a bit pale.”

  As Robert wouldn’t listen to her protests, Hannah gave in.

  Once outside, Robert bent his head to speak to Hannah in a low tone. “No feathers? No tickling? No taking the air? Where is the agreeable wife of my heart?”

  She gave a huff and lifted her chin. Robert stopped. She looked away, avoiding his gaze.

  “Hannah, have you lost flesh? Aren’t you eating enough? You don’t need to leave off eating to make our savings grow.” He touched her hand, lifted it, and inspected her fingers. “You’re too thin. Look how your wedding ring spins around. Hannah, you must eat. You would not want to lose that off your finger.”

  “Most days I have no appetite,” she said, pulling her hand free. “If we must walk, l
et’s get to it. I still have a bit of mending to accomplish.”

  “Not today,” he said. “The customer can wait for a weekday.”

  “It’s your mending,” she murmured. “How did you manage to tear your sleeve so badly?”

  “It was merely a slit a month ago. I don’t know how it grew.”

  “Was it neglect? Wearing it each day? Not showing it to your wife in good time?” She seemed to make an effort to put on a jovial countenance.

  “There’s my smile,” he said, coaxing the bud into full blossom with his fingertip. “You have such beautiful lips, my dear. Curving them into a smile makes them even more lovely.”

  “Robert, someone will see you. And you mustn’t say such things. They’ll hear you.”

  “Who?”

  She looked around, but the street was nearly empty. She shrugged.

  “Let’s go to the park,” Robert said. “There are several benches we can sit on if we grow tired. In fact, I know of a bench that’s hidden in a grove of trees. I can say anything to you there.” He grinned at her, and she ducked her head away from him. “Maybe I can get you to say something indiscreet back to me.” He winked.

  She shrugged again but let him lead her to the park.

  Chapter 11

  Ned awoke a few minutes later. He scrubbed at his face with one hand, feeling the stubble prickling his fingers, and looked over at Jessie, who sat on the sofa showing her mother a hat. She sparkles like the evening star at twilight, he thought. She always has. He dropped his hand on his thigh. She’s takin’ a lot of joy in that hat. I wish I could buy it for her. His pockets were empty, all his wages tossed in the common pot to purchase supplies for the journey ahead. He looked around the room. Only the two women and young Luke were there with him.

  “Where is everybody?” he asked, getting to his feet.

  “Mr. Heizer,” Mrs. Bingham said, smiling up at him. “Did you enjoy your nap?”

  Ned fidgeted with his thumbnail, embarrassed that he hadn’t gone into the next room to sleep. “Ah, yes, ma’am,” he said. “I hope I didn’t disturb y’all.”

  “Certainly not. A little snore now and then can be curiously comforting.”

  He smiled and gritted his teeth. I was snoring? Just the impression I want to leave on Jessie. “What’s my brother up to?”

  “He went for a stroll with Heppie,” Jessie answered. “It’s a lovely day.” She looked down at the hat in her lap, put it on her pale yellow hair, and fiddled with the feather.

  Ned’s heart turned over, and he caught himself breathing hard and fast. “Whew,” he said in a whisper, then added aloud, “Would you enjoy a walk in the park, Miss Jessie?”

  Jessie looked up, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I would, Mr. Heizer. Are you asking me to accompany you?” She took off the hat and gave it to her mother.

  Ned gulped. “I am. That is, if your mother is willin’.” He turned to Mrs. Bingham. “Is that agreeable with you, ma’am?”

  Mrs. Bingham pushed herself to her feet and nodded. “I think Luke would enjoy stretching his legs. Wouldn’t you, Luke.” Her tone made her last words a statement.

  Jessie rose to her feet. “It appears we will have company, Mr. Heizer.” She turned to Mrs. Bingham. “Are you coming, Ma?”

  “No, dear.” Mrs. Bingham smiled as she shook her head. “Luke will be companion enough to make things proper. You young people have a good time.”

  With Jessie beside him and Luke following after, Ned limped down the stairs leading to the street. Once they were walking toward the park, Ned turned to look at Luke. He glanced at Jessie and waggled his eyebrows. Jessie grinned back at him, then looked over her shoulder at Luke.

  “Lukie, I believe I left my little purse behind. Will you go fetch it? Please?”

  “Ah sis, you’re kidding me. You don’t need a purse for a walk in the park.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “Do not!”

  “Do too!”

  “Do not.”

  Jessie stopped, turned around, and pointed her finger toward the rooming house. “Yes I do. Go get it for me, and I’ll do one of your chores tomorrow.”

  “Take out the rubbish?”

  “Well …”

  Luke pulled his knife from his pocket and picked at the whittling stick he still held in his hand. “You don’t need your purse. You’re trying to get rid of me. I’ll get rid of myself if you’ll take out the rubbish tomorrow.”

  Jessie laughed. “I’ll do it. Maybe Mr. Heizer will help me.”

  Ned nodded, and Luke grinned. “You promise?”

  “I promise, Lukie.” Jessie put out her hand and shook Luke’s. “Good-bye.”

  Luke turned around and left. Ned took Jessie’s hand and pulled it through the crook of his arm. “Ready for our walk?”

  Jessie smiled. “It will be delightful, now that our chaperon is gone.”

  Ned grinned. “You got rid of him right handily, missie.” He inhaled deeply as they entered the park, breathing in the heady scent of the lilacs lining the path.

  “I’ve had lots of practice,” Jessie said, almost skipping a little as she tried to keep up with Ned’s longer stride. “Whenever Ma sent him out with us girls, we would take turns inventing errands to send him on.” Her smile grew wistful. “It was more fun before he figured out we didn’t want his company.”

  Ned threw back his head and laughed. When his mirth was spent and he had wiped tears from his eyes, he said, “Jessie Bingham, you’re a caution. Poor Luke. It must be hard living with a bunch of girls. I’m glad I grew up havin’ George.”

  Jessie looked thoughtful. “I reckon you’re right. Max was so much older. By the time Luke wanted someone to play games with, Max was interested in girls, being a hero, and such. He didn’t pay Luke any mind.” She looked at Ned. “Do you suppose I’m being cruel to Lukie?”

  Ned looked at Jessie and wanted to touch her on the nose, but he resisted, instead saying, “Maybe.”

  “Oh, do you think so?” She frowned. “I don’t want to be mean. We’ve had good times together. We’re the two youngest, you know.”

  “I know.” They arrived at a bench situated in an intimate circle of trees beside the winding path, and Ned stopped and turned to face Jessie. “Shall we sit a spell?”

  Jessie plopped on the bench and smoothed her skirt.

  Ned watched her face as her emotions played over it. She’s got a tender heart, he thought. “Luke will be all right,” he said, sitting beside her. Will she let me take her hand? He decided to wait. “What do you think of St. Louis?’

  “It’s so much bigger than Mount Jackson,” she said, crinkling her nose. “The river smells. If I lived here, I’d have to be away from the river.”

  Ned laughed. “I thought you were going to New Mexico Territory with your ma.”

  “I am,” she said tilting her head to one side. “I wonder if Max found a wife out there. When he left, his head was filled with notions of making his fortune. I hope he did so.”

  “From what I remember of Max, I’m sure he’s doin’ fine.” Makin’ a big impression with the ladies, no doubt, he thought. Max always liked the girls.

  “He wrote to Pa, inviting us to join him, so I reckon he’s set up in some kind of business.” Jessie looked down at her feet. “He didn’t know Pa had died.”

  Ned looked at Jessie’s somber face. He reached over and took her hand, sliding his fingers between hers. “What happy memory can I bring to your mind? You’re thinking too hard on your pa.”

  “Not just Pa. All that’s happened to us. That … man I killed back there. Is God angry with me?”

  Ned gave Jessie’s hand a little squeeze. “You been stewing about that since it happened?”

  “It comes and goes. Some days I think I did the right thing. Some days … I don’t know.”

  “Like today?”

  “Yes.”

  Ned wondered if he could put his arm over Jessie’s shoulder. It might comfort her. Then again
, it might well offend her. He decided to wait. He was, after all, holding her hand without any protest from her.

  “Here’s what I think,” he finally said, when Jessie had turned anxious eyes to him. “God ain’t in favor of tyrants. He don’t like bullies. I don’t reckon he looks on rapists and such with high regard. From what you said at the time, he was threatening you and your sisters—maybe even your ma—with vile acts. Am I right?”

  Ned felt Jessie’s shiver through her hand. He squeezed it again and said, “I’m right. I reckon God knows your heart, that you were defendin’ yourself and your kin. You did purely the right thing, Jessie Bingham. You did the right thing.” Ned took in a lungful of air, and capped his speech by bending over and kissing the top of Jessie’s head. She responded by laying her head on his shoulder.

  “Thank you, Ned. You’re such a good friend.”

  Ned tightened his gut as though he had received a blow. A good friend? Ned, my boy, you have a long row to hoe, he thought, resisting a sigh. Another thought came and brightened his attitude as he looked at their entwined hands. Yes, and you’re on a long, long journey. You have time to make her think different of you.

  Chapter 12

  Several days later, Hannah cut flannel pieces to sew a man’s shirt, then gathered the scraps to use during for her monthly. As she tucked them in a dresser drawer, she stopped short, her hands suspended. I haven’t had my monthly since we left Virginia. I won’t have it again for a long time. I’ve got this horrid lump of clay in me, this bastard baby.

  She backed away from the dresser, wringing her hands, and paced beside the bed. I’m trapped here with the mending and sewing. How can I find someone to get rid of this curse?

  She sank on the bed, feeling wicked for letting the appalling thought come again. I’m already dirty, and unworthy of my husband for letting that Yankee dog rape me, she thought. Now I’m sinful, as well. She wanted to scream, to vent her outrage and her anguish, but the walls of the boardinghouse were too thin. It was bad enough that she dared cry when she was alone. She wouldn’t even have that release soon. Robert said they would leave St. Louis the following week. They’d be out on the trail again. She’d have no privacy for weeping.