There were moments now and then when she forgot there’d been a war. Her thoughts would carry her away for a few moments or she’d fall asleep and have a rare dream that didn’t involve death or dying. Then she’d awaken to the promise of a new day. As soon as she came fully alert, the present and past crashed down around her.
Unconsciously she rested her hands on her belly. Here she was, married to Daniel Gardner and living in his beautiful new home. The overwhelming desire to write her mother and let her know she was going to be all right took her by surprise. That would have been the most natural thing in the world, but she no longer had anyone with whom to share things, no family who cared if she fared well or if she fell off the face of the earth.
Images of those days and nights back in Pennsylvania rose to haunt her as they always did. With her family home stripped of nearly everything they could sell for food, she and her mother and her cousin Hattie had survived most of a winter huddled around the fireplace in her father’s study. It had been the last room with comfortable furnishings, and they’d been able to pull the heavy oak doors shut and hold the meager heat inside. In the deepest cold of winter they had slowly sacrificed her father’s books to the miserly flames.
Her mother had kept up their spirits with tales of her youth, of her siblings and of Leah’s father—until she’d taken ill and coughed too violently to speak more than a few words at a time. It had been a bitterly cold morning when a half dozen rebels, cold and hungry themselves, had approached the house, attracted by the thin line of smoke from the chimney. The clambering of boots on the porch had awakened the women. The three of them, already dressed in warm clothing, shoes and wrapped in shawls and quilts for warmth, had grabbed only a few items at hand and run out the back to the frigid springhouse.
Their breath was white in the dim interior, the spring having been frozen for months. The rebels must have found their cache of food and it hadn’t taken them long to devour it and search the already-diminished house. The women observed the house through the cracks between the boards where the chinking was gone, seeing the first tongues of fire that darted from the windows of the kitchen, and then the upstairs bedrooms. By the time flames leaped toward the sky, the men in ragged gray uniforms were making a search of the property.
“We have to go.” Leah’s whisper had been frantic.
“We’ll freeze to death in the woods,” Hattie had said, her teeth chattering, her nose red.
“We have to,” Leah insisted. “If they find us here, our fate will be worse than freezing to death.”
Her mother stifled a cough and fear shot through Leah at the ragged sound. The men outside would hear. Her mother knew her fear and her actions showed she shared it. “Go. If I fall behind, you keep going,” she insisted. “We’ll meet by the big rock that hangs out over the creek.”
Leah and Hattie had nodded. They knew the spot well. Their families had picnicked there every summer of the girls’ childhoods.
“Don’t wait long,” her mother said. “Hide nearby and if one or more of us are split up and don’t make it, get away.”
“Where will we go, Mama?”
“Trust God to help you with that,” she replied and buried a cough in her shawl.
Her mother had been too weak to keep up. Leah had tried to help her, but unable to breathe, her mother had clutched her chest and gestured for them to go on. Eyes wide, she’d stumbled about for something and came up with a rock she could barely lift. “Go. I’ll stop at least one of the rebels.”
“No, Mama,” Leah had cried in a hoarse whisper. “I’m not leaving you.”
The sounds of men’s voices nearby reached them.
Her mother’s lips were blue. “If you stay we will all die. If you leave me, you can make it. Now go.”
“Come on, Leah.” Hattie tugged at her arm. “We have to go now.”
“Mama,” Leah said on a moan.
“Make it for me,” her mother ordered. “Don’t look back, and live.”
Hattie yanked her away.
Blinded by tears, Leah stumbled away. “We can’t leave her. We can’t! I have to go back.”
“She’s giving us a chance to get to safety,” Hattie told her fiercely. “Don’t waste it.”
Frozen branches scratched and scraped as they stumbled along a streambed.
Gunfire sounded behind them.
Leah stopped in her tracks, her head roaring with fear and panic.
“Come on!” Hattie insisted.
Leah stared at her cousin whose face was scratched, her once silky fair hair a tangle of knots with twigs caught in the ends. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes dull with remorse.
Lying in Daniel Gardner’s home, on this new bed, ashes collapsing with soft sighs in the fireplace, Leah wiped tears from her temples and her hair. She had no one with whom to share the current state of her life. Her mother had died that day. They’d waited an entire day hidden near the stone that jutted over the creek. By the time they moved on, Hattie had taken a fever. They’d had to avoid the roads in case other marauders were in the area, and by the time they’d made it to the city, her cousin hadn’t had the strength or the will to recover.
Daniel had assured her she never had to be alone again. Yet she felt quite alone. He’d made promises. Her child would be loved and well provided for. She couldn’t live in the past. In the dim light of the lantern that spat and guttered, she found her Bible on the table beside her bed and held it to her side, grasping to remember something to help her move on. Something about not remembering former things.
Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
She had no idea how to forget those things, so instead she worked diligently to keep hold of the good memories. And look forward to new ones here with Daniel in her new home.
Chapter Nine
True to his word, Daniel had provided help for Leah, and Valentine Ewing showed up midweek. She had come to Cowboy Creek at the bidding of her younger brother Owen, the undertaker and cabinet maker. She’d worked as a bookkeeper at their father’s lumber mill in New Brunswick for years, and had been living with a nephew and his family since their father died and Owen came west. She spoke with an accent she declared was Scottish, but sounded more French to Leah, not that she would know.
Valentine Ewing was a small woman, with streaks of gray shot through her black hair. Though she had a serene countenance and a calm manner of speech, she moved with efficiency and purpose. Once she’d been introduced to Leah and shown the house, and her duties had been explained, she set right to work and spoiled Leah to no end. She brought a breakfast tray to her room, then gathered laundry and stowed her shoes and jewelry all while Leah ate.
“If it suits you, Mrs. Gardner, I’ve had Mr. Gardner fetch a rocker for the kitchen. You can rest there and sort your new kitchen items and china. I will wash them and you can direct me how to put them away.”
Leah was arrested by the new form of address, and worked it over in her mind. “Please, won’t you call me Leah?”
Valentine seemed to think it over. “Very well.”
“Thank you. And rest assured I am not an invalid. I am simply using extreme caution during my pregnancy and avoiding exertion.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m thankful you agreed to come and help out. And that you were available.”
“My brother’s home is already clean and organized. There are only the two of us and he refuses to allow me into his work area, so I have little to keep me busy.” She shrugged. “I was used to working with my father, and I don’t much care for being idle. Mr. Gardner’s offer is a good opportunity for me to stay busy.”
“I hope we’ll be friends.”
Leah returned her smile. “Your suggestion sounds perfect. We can put the kitchen to order.”
Valentine had brought cleaning supplies, white huck toweling and sweet rolls she had baked already that morning. The crate of wedding china had been carried in and opened. Leah set to work carefully unpacking the dishes.
“Those are lovely,” Valentine said, admiring the growing stack on the table.
“They’re my wedding gift from Daniel,” she told the other woman. “He remembered my mother had a set like them and located these.”
“The day he announced your engagement I heard him say that you’d known each other for many years.”
Leah nodded, and as the women worked she shared bits and pieces of her youth and her friendship with Daniel and Will. At first, she was hesitant to share that she’d been engaged to Will at one time because her past behavior now seemed childish and shallow. Valentine didn’t seem judgmental or critical, however, so she took a fortifying breath and shared the story.
The older woman reverently washed and dried the set of china. “Things don’t always turn out the way we plan when we’re young and idealistic. Even foolishly naïve, I suppose.”
“No, they don’t.”
“I was once engaged to a dashing young man.”
Leah set aside the towel she was holding. “You were?”
Valentine nodded. “He was a British sea captain.”
“What happened?” She caught herself being too inquisitive. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.”
“His name was Stephen. He was kind and intelligent. He had a smile that could clear up a rainy day.” She paused at the sink, her fingers dripping suds, seemingly lost in those memories. After a lengthy moment, she straightened and went back to her task. “We were to be married, but he was lost at sea.”
The words were far more matter-of-fact than the emotions clearly behind them, even after all these years.
Her heart went out to the woman. Leah wasn’t the only one who had suffered loss. But Valentine had bravely gone on with her life, working, sharing her talents with others, and Leah admired her for that. “I’m so sorry.”
Valentine nodded. “It was a long time ago. The pain has dimmed. Your loss is much more recent.”
“You never married another.”
The woman shook her head. “I didn’t let myself get close to anyone for a long time, and after that, well, it just never happened.”
“There are a lot of men in Cowboy Creek. God might still have one for you.”
Valentine laughed at that. “Bless your heart, Leah Gardner. You’re an optimist.”
She grinned. “Perhaps.”
Daniel returned early that evening, with time to sit in the library, while Valentine set the table. “How was your day?”
“It was nice. Valentine is a blessing. I can’t thank you enough. She is going to spoil me, however.”
“I doubt that.”
“The china is all washed and put away in the cabinet. I must have stared at it for an hour.”
He grinned. “I was thinking about something today. We planned a wedding quickly, and right now you need a lot of rest, but later, after the baby comes, we will do something special. Take a trip.”
Thoughts of leaving her baby behind left her uneasy. “Like a—a honeymoon?”
“Well.” He appeared to think about it. “If you can call a trip with a new baby a honeymoon.”
“With the baby?”
“Of course.”
“All right. Yes, then, a trip.” She gave him a broad smile.
* * *
Her smiles would be Daniel’s demise. He enjoyed seeing them so much he might be tempted to behave foolishly to coax one. When she smiled at him years fell away, and he saw only the beauty of the moment. Her presence brought a queer warmth to his chest, and arrested his thoughts. He’d thought of little today, save returning to the house to see her. It would be wise to use caution when emotions were at risk, he reminded himself, but defenses where useless where she was concerned. “Consider where you’d like to go,” he said.
“I’ll do that.”
Valentine appeared in the doorway. “Pardon me, but supper is on the table.”
“Will you be eating with us?” Daniel asked. “You’re welcome any time.”
“Thank you, but I have a basket of food for Owen and I’ll be heading home to have supper with him. Leave the dishes. I’ll do them tomorrow.”
“Perhaps some evening your brother can come join us,” Leah suggested.
Valentine nodded. “I’m sure he’d like that. Good night. I’ll be here early tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to take my breakfast upstairs,” Leah replied. “I can eat in the kitchen with Daniel before he leaves.”
Miss Ewing was a good cook. She’d prepared a hearty meal of roast and potatoes, with slaw and warm rolls. They’d nearly finished when the unmistakable sound of gunfire startled them. Daniel met the surprised look in Leah’s eyes.
“Is that usual?” she asked. “Isn’t there a no-gun ordinance?”
“There’s definitely a law against guns in town. I’ll be back after I check it out. Stay inside.”
Daniel got his rifle from the trunk in the library, checked it for ammunition and grabbed his hat before heading out. A block from home he reached the corner where the boardinghouse sat and emerged onto Eden Street. From farther south toward Drover’s Place and the railroad station came the sound of shots. Whenever there’d been a commotion, it had come from across the track, on the south side of town, where the cowboys sometimes did too much celebrating. This disturbance, however, was closer to the main center of town. Another shot sounded and glass shattered.
Sheriff Quincy Davis was already ahead of Daniel, and Will had emerged from the hotel. Several other men stood in the recessed shadows of the doorways, observing the rowdy men on restless horses. Light from the windows at Drover’s Place delineated the mounts, a black and a gray among them. Five in total.
“No guns in town!” Quincy shouted.
“Come get ’em, Sheriff!” came the reply, followed by a shot that took out the window in the land office. Glass showered onto the boardwalk. Laughter followed.
“We don’t want trouble,” Quincy called out. “Head out the way you came.”
“The whole bunch of ’em ate and didn’t pay.” Floyd Yates ran Drover’s Place. “When I asked them to pay up, they drew their guns and robbed the other men in the place.”
“That’s Zen and Xavier Murdoch,” D.B. said from behind Daniel. “Had trouble with them and their gang back in Harper.” D.B. spoke of the town eighty miles away. “There’s more of ’em than what’s here,” the newsman warned.
If more of the gang might be looking on, they couldn’t afford to bring this disturbance to a head. Daniel walked out into the street and strode toward the troublemakers.
“Drop what you stole and head out,” he demanded.
“Or what?” came the reply.
“We don’t want trouble.” Quincy and Will walked up and stood on either side of him. In the moonlight Daniel made out a couple of tall narrow men with beards. He’d never seen them before.
Three shots pierced the wooden sign hanging over the land office, and the sign swung haphazardly on its one remaining chain.
The riders dug their heels into their horses’ sides, and the animals’ hooves kicked up dirt as the men retreated. Bullets resounded off the metal side of a railcar and the sound of galloping hoofbeats resided.
Will turned to the men gathered in the street. “We haven’t seen the last of them.”
“I’m fearin’ you’re right,�
� Quincy said.
“They brought trouble to Harper regularly,” D.B. offered.
“What did your sheriff do?” Quincy asked.
“Shot back.”
“Last thing we want is a bunch of killin’.” Old Horace had been roused and now stood dressed in his union suit and trousers.
James Johnson had joined the gathering, as well. Without his hat, his black curly hair fell into his eyes. “Ain’t no reasoning with fellas like that. They don’t have no sense of propriety. If you want to protect the town from ’em, you’ll need sentries.”
The thought made Daniel feel sick. He’d seen enough fighting and killing to last a lifetime. Just the sound of the shots made his stomach lurch. But the drover had a good point. “We need to have a town meeting and decide how far we’re willing to go to keep them out of Cowboy Creek.”
His suggestion was sobering, and the men exchanged glances.
“Any one of those shots could have ricocheted and hit someone.” Amos Godwin had been roused from the rooms he shared with his wife over his boot shop. “What if they come back during the day when there’s women on the street?”
“Let’s meet tomorrow at the Cattleman Hotel.” Will said.
A couple of men helped sweep up glass and board up the window opening at the land office. Others cleaned up broken glass from the bakery’s window.
James Johnson approached Daniel, Will and Quincy. “I’ll keep watch down by the station tonight if you want. I don’t have nowhere to be in the mornin’.”
“Thanks, James. That’s much appreciated,” Quincy said. “I’ll have Buck station himself at the north end of town.”
The men dispersed and Daniel hurried home.
Leah had washed dishes and tidied the kitchen. She dropped the towel she held and hurried toward him when he came through the front door. Her concerned blue gaze swept over him. “That was a lot of shooting. What happened?”
He filled her in on what had gone on.
“Sit down. I’ll pour you some coffee.”
Want Ad Wedding Page 9