by Ward, Marsha
Hannah got up and shut the drawer. She went into the main room, picked up her needle and thread, and began to sew together the shirt. When she pricked her finger, she began to cry, pretending it was because the puncture hurt.
~~~
When Robert purchased a team of mules and the canvas-topped wagon he’d been eyeing for weeks, Mr. Grant’s broad face beamed with delight. Although the conveyance was not new, it had proved its worth on the trail to Kansas several times.
“You’ll make better time with this vehicle and the mules than with that tumble-down farm wagon you folks brought with you,” Mr. Grant said.
“Oh, we’re still taking the old wagon, and another, as well,” Robert said. “We’ve laid in a store of food sufficient for the journey, and we’ll need every inch of space.”
“Your brother-in-law bought a wagon?” the man asked.
“He found one to his liking down yonder,” Robert answered, nodding toward another business. “He thinks there’s enough grass on the plains, so he’s using horses. Big ones.”
Mr. Grant shrugged. “They pull strong, but they eat a lot. You’d best be taking grain along.”
“Grain?”
“Yep. You’re bound to come to places along the trail where the grass is eaten down. When you do, you’ll have something to nourish your animals. That’s the thing to keep in mind. Always look out for your animals.”
“Hmm,” Robert said. “I thought we’d simply be letting them graze.”
“A couple hundred pounds of grain is a good thing to have along, just in case. You might even run into a big spot where a prairie fire’s gone through. You’ll need grain.”
“Thanks for the advice. We’ll buy grain.” Robert shook the man’s hand and climbed to the plank seat. He gathered the lines, took up a whip, and yelled, “Get up there,” to his team. When the mules lurched against the collars and put the wagon into lumbering motion, Robert grinned broadly. At last he possessed his own means of transportation. Just as he predicted, they’d be on their way in two weeks.
~~~
One night, soon after their departure from St. Louis, Robert accompanied his wife into a wooded area to gather kindling and fuel for their campfires. When they were well hidden from the others, he took her shoulders in his hands and drew her to his chest. She went stiff in his embrace, and he lightened his touch on her arms.
“Hannah love,” he whispered in her ear. “Calm yourself.” His voice was very low, almost inaudible, but he deliberately made it gentle. “You went through a horrible time. I only want to hold you in my arms for a little while. Won’t you let me smell your hair?”
“My hair is filthy,” she muttered.
“Your hair is beautiful, like you are. Beautiful and soft and sweet.”
“No!” Hannah tried to pull free, but Robert held her tight. She struggled against him for a moment and then gave up, her shoulders tensed. “My hair is filthy. My skin is filthy. My female parts are filthy. My womb is filthy, because it carries a filthy child. A dirty, rotten, misbegotten Yankee child. I’m filthy through and through!” She was almost screaming at him, and he shushed her with his hand over her mouth. “Don’t. Do. That,” she gasped, wrenching herself from his grasp.
He grabbed her before she ran away, and pulled her to him, his mind whirling. A child! “We’re having a child?”
“No! I’m having a child. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Hannah. It’s my child.”
She averted her eyes and sobbed out, “You don’t know that.”
Robert looked over Hannah’s head into the deep woods, struggling with his conflicting feelings of joy and dismay. He kissed the top of her head. “Hannah, I’m your husband. It’s my child.”
“Robert. Don’t.” She took a deep gulp of breath. “It’s a Yankee bastard.”
He stopped her with two fingers lightly pressed against her lips, and bent down to look at her. “Don't say that. The only Yankee bastard is the one we left in that barn. The vile …” He had to stop to get air and calm himself. After a moment, he said, “That child is most likely mine. I've been a husband to you all along.”
“We'd been wed six months with no sign of an infant coming!”
“But this spring”—He ran the back of his knuckles along her arm.—“Don't you remember how sweet it was to be in our own home at last? Not have to share a house with your mother?”
Hannah stood still, rubbing her arm where Robert had touched her. “How do you know we created the child? How do you know this babe isn't from that Yankee's depraved, foul, revolting seed? He debased me.” Sobs raked her body. “Why do I feel so soiled?”
Robert dropped his hands and released her. He chose his words carefully. “I can’t pretend to know your reason for thinking that way. Perhaps a doctor could explain it. Or your mother.”
“Don’t you talk to my mother,” she cried out. “Don’t you dare.” She pounded on his chest with her fists. “She can’t know about this evil, wicked baby, this sin I’ve done against you.”
“Hannah.” He captured her fists in his hands. “Your mother will know about the baby. Everyone will know about the child coming as time goes by. Scarves and such only conceal for a while.”
“Rip it from me! Tear me asunder!” She wept into his chest.
Robert felt the blood drain from his face. He swallowed and straightened his shoulders. “Hannah,” he barked. “Hannah, come back to your senses.” He softened his voice. “Hannah, you are very dear to me, every part of you is dear to me.” He struggled to say something to touch her soul. “Can I cherish you more than I do now? My heart is knit to yours. Any child you bring forth will be sweet and clean. I will love it with all my being. We two are one, and the acts of a despicable man have no bearing on our union.”
Hannah burrowed against Robert, sobbing. “I want to believe that. I want to.” She began to shiver. “I cannot fathom such a thing.”
He squeezed her hands. “I must consider that in time, you will believe me.” He turned one palm upward and kissed the center of it. “There, I have cleaned a little part of you with my love. Trust in it. Feel it. Let it grow.”
“Oh, Robert,” she moaned. “You have no sense to be so good to me.” Her body went slack against his, and he caught her before she fell.
He held close her for a long time, until her breathing slowed and she was restored to a state of calm. Then he released her with a sigh, bent down, and picked up a fallen branch.
“We’d better get on with our job. They’ll be wondering where the wood is.”
Chapter 13
After a matter of weeks, the party made camp near a spot where the westward trails divided. The northern branch led to Utah and California and Oregon. The southern track was still renowned as the Santa Fe Trail, which connected to old Spanish trails that continued through New Mexico Territory all the way to California, following a wagon road pioneered by a party of Mormon volunteers during the War with Mexico in the ‘40s.
Jessie stood over an iron skillet, frying bacon. She looked up from her task when Ned stepped into the firelight.
“Good evening, Jessie,” he began.
“Hello, Ned.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Ma’s not nearby, so I can call you that.”
Ned smiled and nodded. “You look very nice tonight,” he said. “Do you mind if I sit a spell?”
Jessie rolled her eyes in mild annoyance and said, “Suit yourself.” She turned the bacon with a fork.
“Thanks.” He found a box and lowered himself onto it. “Lovely night. Stars out and a full moon.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, laying down the fork and lifting the lid on a pot of beans. It needed stirring, so she picked up a wooden spoon and thrust it into the savory mixture.
Ned shuffled his feet
At the sound, Jessie looked up to see him gazing at George and Heppie, who were teasing each other near their wagon.
Ned cleared his throat, then spoke. “Married life seems to s
uit my brother and your sister.”
“They do seem over the moon.”
“Have you thought about getting married?”
Jessie cast her eyes down to her work. She hadn’t given the topic much thought since … since she’d been left behind when James went west. She bit her lip. It didn’t help. Her heart still hurt more. Slowly she looked up. Ned was sitting there, waiting for her to answer. She shrugged her shoulders. “Not for a long time.”
Ned bent over and fiddled with the top of his boot. “Do you know what double cousins are?”
Jessie frowned. What a strange question! “No.”
“That’s when two brothers marry two sisters, or a brother and sister marry a sister and brother. Their youngsters are double cousins.”
Jessie stirred the beans so vigorously that they sloshed over the rim of the pot.
“Jessie.” Ned paused, fiddling with the lacing on his boot. “I, that is, you, I mean …” His voice trailed off. “Oh, confound it,” he said, rising to his feet. “Will you marry me? We’ll run into a town sooner or later, and we can scare up a preacher or a mayor or a judge to say the words over us—”
“Mr. Heizer,” Jessie interrupted.
“Please, Jessie, hear me out. We’re good friends, that’s a fact, but I’ve got strong feelings for you. I thought of you a good deal during the months that I was lyin’ there in the hospital up north. When I got back to Mount Jackson and found out you were gone, it tore me up inside. I want to be with you now.”
Jessie turned and faced him. “Mr. Heizer, Ned, I—”
“If you don’t want to answer yet, I’ll understand.” He got to his feet, stepped forward, and took her hand. “Take all the time you need.”
Jessie looked at Ned’s hand holding hers. She looked into his eyes. She looked away. “Ned, we’re only friends. I’ve never thought of marrying you.”
Ned dropped her hand and shuffled his feet. “I think friendship is a good start for marriage.”
Jessie stared at him. “But what about love?”
“I’ve never loved anyone but you, Jessie.”
Jessie smiled wryly. “That’s on your side of the matter, Ned. Don’t I need to love you too?” Her smile slipped away as Ned jerked upright, his throat working as he swallowed several times. “Being in love matters to a girl.”
She turned to the bacon and poured the grease into the bean pot. She whacked at the crisp bacon. It shattered into pieces that she scooped into the pot. She looked up. Ned was staring at her, his face somber.
After a moment, he spoke. “Don’t misunderstand me, Jessie. Naturally I want you to love me, but I’m sure that will come in time. For now, consider takin’ a good, hard look at your feelings for me. See if they ain’t sufficient for marriage.”
Jessie laid down her spoon and moved to face Ned. She put her hand on his arm. “I been in love before,” she whispered. “I don’t feel the same about you.”
Ned looked down at the ground, then up again. Finally he spoke, his voice dark. “James Owen?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is he anywhere around?”
“No.”
“Then marry me.”
“I don't love you like that. You’re my friend.”
“It doesn’t matter to me what kind of love you bear me now.” Ned took her hand from his arm and brought it to his chest. His heart beat strong, hard. “I hope that will change in time. I care for you enough for both of us.” He nodded sharply, only once, then added, “You think about what I’ve said.”
Jessie lowered her eyes. Her heart thumped in her throat, matching the rhythm of Ned’s. Maybe I do love him, she thought. Maybe I should think about marrying him. Slowly she nodded. “I’ll give thought to your suggestion.” She looked up. Ned was watching her face. “It may take me some time to …” She swallowed, took her hand from Ned’s chest, then said in a gush of air, “To think it through.”
Ned’s eyes looked like the depths of a deep pool. He gazed at her for a long time, not moving, frozen in place. Then he nodded, again only one time. “I’ll wait.”
He strode off, his long legs barely limping, and Jessie wondered how hard it was for him to damp down his pride and give her the time she needed.
~~~
Riding in the wagon several days later, Robert watched Hannah out of the corner of his eye. She seemed wilted, like a bunch of wildflowers plucked in the morning and set aside without water by a careless child. The wagon lurched, and she gave a little gasp.
“Have you told your ma about the baby?” he asked.
“No.” Hannah’s shoulders rose and fell with her sigh. “Has Mama been askin' nosy questions?”
“A few. I try to remember she's concerned for you, darlin'.” Robert slapped the lines over the backs of the big mules.
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you concerned for me?”
“Oh, darlin', how can you ask that?” He looked over at Hannah. Her hands lay gripped tightly together against the growing mound of her belly. “Mercy! Hannah love, you know what I did to that man when I came after you.”
“I have nightmares nearly every night. Will they ever go away?” Her voice dropped. “Will you ever forgive me?”
Robert swore softly. Nothing he said or did seemed to make a difference to Hannah. He pulled the mules to a stop and wrapped the lines around the brake handle. He grabbed Hannah's shoulders and kissed her, firmly, possessively.
He let her go, took up the lines again, and slapped them against the animals’ rumps a little more forcefully than was necessary. When they were once again on the move, he looked over at her. Hannah stared back at him with wide eyes. “You're my wife,” he said, softly. “I love you with all my heart and soul, and no matter what happened in that barn, no matter what happens in the future, nothing will change that.”
“I want to believe you,” Hannah said, beginning to sniffle. “I just—it’s so hard.”
A feeling of helplessness washing over him, Robert sat dumbly on the wagon seat. If only there were something more he could do to assure her of his love. Theirs was the last wagon of the bunch, and he didn’t dare stop again for fear they would fall behind. How dearly he would have liked to halt the wagon, lift Hannah down from the seat, find a scrap of shade, and tenderly show her how much he loved and needed her.
He grabbed the whip, uncoiled it, and cracked it with vigor above the ears of the mules. That’ll have to wait, he told himself. She’s not ready for me yet.
Chapter 14
Heppie watched the sky all afternoon as she walked beside the wagon. White clouds built into towering giants, filling the horizon. They loomed there, first turning gray, dark and ominous, then becoming almost black as a wind pushed them toward her. Soon they would be overhead. Prickles of gooseflesh raised the hair on her arms under her sleeves. Would rain come to dowse them as they struggled west? Lightning slashed to earth several miles ahead of the travelers. Heppie cried out, even before the deafening thunderclap filled her head. Dear God in Heaven, she prayed. Not a lightning storm!
Rubbing her arms with her hands, she looked over at George. He was standing in the wagon, gripping the lines hard to keep the four big horses from bolting. His lips were drawn back from his teeth, and she couldn’t tell if he was grinning or focusing on the task. He’s probably grinning because he faces life like an adventure. She shook her head. Will I ever be brave like him?
Another bolt of lightning struck ahead of them. Heppie shivered, bracing herself for the thunder, biting her lower lip to keep herself quiet. She could see rain falling in the distance, sheets of it, accompanied by wind lashing the grass. The sun had gone into shelter behind the menacing clouds. It was probably time for her to seek shelter as well.
Pulling up her skirt so her feet wouldn’t get caught in the hem, Heppie dashed toward the wagon. “George,” she screamed above another rumble of thunder. “Stop and let me get up.”
George turned his face
toward her. She saw that he was battling with the horses. He yelled back, “Stay clear! They want to run.”
Heppie stepped out of the way, thinking, No! He’ll be killed if they run off. Her heart banged against her ribs. George, hold on to them, she pleaded silently, watching the wagon lurch along the trail, gathering speed, until the animals broke free of George’s control.
Heppie cried out, a long gusty “No!” that the rising wind swallowed.
From behind, noise pounded on the prairie like another roll of thunder. Heppie looked over her shoulder. What new danger was upon them? A horse approached with Ned bent low over its neck, driving forward to catch up to the runaway wagon. He passed Heppie. Clods of earth fell around her, stirred up by the horse’s hooves. A small chunk of sod hit her cheek, sticking in place, and she batted at it as if it were a bug. She had to see what was happening to George.
She realized she was running, half falling over the furrows of churned-up earth left behind by hooves and wheels. Her throat felt raw, filled with her high, keening cry. Her lungs burned as she filled them with air that seemed to have been singed by the lightning. The wagon was so far away!
Another horse blew by, whipping up a dust cloud, pressing the thick yellow air against her. Mr. Fletcher. Luke sprinted by, his arms pumping with effort. She squinted her eyes, trying to find the wagon. Trying to see George.
At last she broke out of the dust. Ahead of her, the wagon lay on its side at the end of a plowed-up rut in the earth, one wheel smashed, the other spinning crazily. Ned Heizer and Robert Fletcher were off their mounts, struggling with horses thrashing on the ground. Luke ran toward them. Where was George?