“Thank you. I love to read, but I never have time anymore.” Amethyst didn’t add about her pa.
“I’ll pour the tea, and then we can visit. Carly, you come sit over here so you don’t spill.”
When Carly slid off her lap, immediately Amethyst felt less, as if something precious had been taken away. Now, don’t you go getting all teary-eyed over this. You will be traveling home with Joel soon, and you can read to him all the way. Somehow her orders to herself didn’t really make her feel better.
Mr. Hegland didn’t harness up the team until after dinner. If Amethyst weren’t still recovering, she’d not have eaten a bite, just pushed the food around on her plate. But she knew she needed the nourishment, and she didn’t want to hurt Pearl’s feelings. Besides, the meal was delicious. She’d never made candied carrots like the ones served and asked for the receipt.
Some time later, after Carl helped Amethyst into the sleigh, Pearl handed her a basket. “Now, make sure you stay tucked under the robe with your scarf over your face. Please deliver this to Cora Robertson. Mr. McHenry and I will hold the fort, but”—she turned to her husband—“don’t be too long. You know there’ll be company coming later.” She handed Amethyst a hot rock wrapped in flannel. “Put this at your feet.”
Bundled into the sleigh, Amethyst did as she was told. Even so, as soon as the horses trotted out, harness bells jingling a merry tune, the wind bit her nose and made her eyes water. Hearing other bells, she turned to see a wagon box on skids coming toward them from town.
Mr. Hegland waved the occupants on to his house. “We’ll be back shortly. Pearl has the coffeepot on.”
“Merry Christmas” floated back to them as they headed south.
“The Little Missouri River is off to our right, bordered by the cottonwood trees. It’s frozen solid now. If we were going to Rand Harrison’s ranch, we’d drive up the river. It’s a lot closer that way. Ruby, Rand, and Opal are really good friends of ours. Ruby and Opal are sisters, and they owned a hotel called Dove House until it burned down. Ruby married Rand Harrison, a local rancher.” The sleigh headed up a hill, the horses tossing their heads and continuing their spirited gait.
Amethyst couldn’t believe the beauty of the country—the snowladen trees, the red-and-orange cliffs so bright against the white snow they glowed, naked tree limbs that appeared black against the dazzling white.
Carl Hegland pointed to deer nibbling on tree branches, cattle sheltering under pine and grazing on the branch tips like their wild relatives. “That’s the Robertsons’ ranch house ahead on the left. You can see the smoke rising.” He pointed off to the right. “You continue that way to Rand Harrison’s ranch. He’s the last outpost between here and points south. Marquis de Mores was running a stage and hauling line down to Deadwood from here. Come spring there should be a lot of travel out this way.”
“He, the marquis, I mean, has brought a lot of change to this area, hasn’t he?”
“He’s a dreamer, all right. If only all his schemes would work out as well as he plans.”
“They aren’t?”
“Well, the big eastern packing houses are trying to force him out by making it real hard for him to sell the beef he ships. They want all the beef shipped on the hoof and let them do the slaughtering.”
“I see. But as a carpenter, I’m sure all this building has been good for you.”
“That it has.”
A low house with a porch across the front came into view as they topped a small rise. Several outbuildings were set back from the main house, one of them flanked by a corral with only the post tops and the highest rail showing.
A young girl stepped out the front door and waved.
Is this where I find Joel? Amethyst clenched her gloved hands under the robe. Please, Lord, let him be here.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Hegland.” The girl ignored the shoveled steps and leaped to the smooth pathway. Someone had been out shoveling this morning. The porch was swept bare, and a path led to the hitching rail, welcoming visitors.
“Merry Christmas, Ada Mae. I brought you a guest.”
“Really?” She smiled at Amethyst. “Mother will be delighted. Come in, come in.” She knotted a tie rope to the hitching rail, stroking the horses’ noses as she did. A cloud of vapor from their breathing made her step back. “Do you have blankets for them?”
“Right here.” Carl Hegland reached behind Amethyst and lifted out two heavy blankets and threw them over his team. Then he helped his guest from the sleigh bed. “We won’t be able to stay long. Can’t leave the team out here—too cold.”
Amethyst nodded and took the path to the front porch. “I am Miss O’Shaunasy,” she answered in response to Ada Mae’s greeting.
“I’m glad to meet you. Come right in.” She opened the door and stepped back for the guest to enter. “Ma, we have a visitor.” She raised her voice to be heard over the laughter of a group of people gathered around the fireplace.
“I’ll be right there.”
“Let me take your coat.”
“Auntie Colleen!” Joel broke away from the group and came running across the room to throw his arms around Amethyst.
She hugged him back. “Ah, Joel, you’ve grown a foot since I last saw you.” She rested her cheek on the top of his head. “I thought you fell off the face of the earth.” Stepping back slightly, she cupped his cheeks in her hands and gazed into his eyes. “I cannot begin to tell you how much I’ve missed you.”
“Me too. How’s Grandfather?”
“Fine when I left.”
“Is he coming out west too?”
“No, he’s waiting for you back to the farm.”
“Oh.” Now it was his turn to take a step back. Impossibly long eyelashes hid his gaze for a moment. He took her hand and led her nearer to the fire where a man stepped forward.
“Hello, Miss O’Shaunasy. I am Jacob Chandler…Joel’s father.” He held out his hand.
Amethyst stared from man to boy and back again. The only real difference between the two was height and age. Their blue eyes crinkled the same way, a lock of dark blond hair fell across both foreheads from the same cowlick, dimples matched in their cheeks.
“I-I think I better sit down.” Amethyst put a hand to her throat, where a pulse threatened to rip through her skin. But what about Patrick? her mind screamed. He was your father. I was there the day you were born. Your name is O’Shaunasy!
Someone brought her a chair, and she sat gingerly on the edge, but all she wanted to do was collapse in a bundle of tears.
“I know this is a shock,” Mr. Chandler said, his eyes gentle. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?”
She shook her head, thoughts dipping and swirling through her head like bats on a feeding frenzy. What will Pa say to this? How will I ever tell him?
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’m sorry for the shock this is causing you, but I can see there is no doubt in your mind that Joel is my son.”
“Yes, I mean, no….” Amethyst wished someone would throw her a life preserver before the riptide carried her farther out to sea.
After several false starts, the truth hit her. Melody had been pregnant—no wonder the wedding had been so rushed. Did Patrick know? Ideas careened in her head, waves attacking from every direction.
When Mr. Hegland said it was time to head home, she mumbled her good-byes, grateful to be leaving.
Over and over as she tried to fall asleep that night, she replayed the scene in the Robertsons’ home. She heard the words again and saw the look of compassion in the man’s eyes. Joel and his father were two peas in a pod. The boy never had resembled Patrick, whom his own father had dubbed as “black Irish” with his black curly hair and flashing dark eyes, but they had thought perhaps Joel’s light hair came from Melody’s side of the family.
She’d never asked questions but instead was always grateful for the baby who brought such delight into her life. The baby grew into a little boy and spent a lot of tim
e with his aunt Colleen because his mother was often sickly. She didn’t correct that either, did not tell him she was now going by Amethyst. It would be Colleen again when she returned home, dreaming for the rest of her life of her brief foray into being Amethyst.
She stared at the ceiling, visions of home flashing across her mind: the house that needed painting, her kitchen with the gray cat in front of the stove, the cellar of food she’d prepared, her milk cows—the heifer would have calved by now—the cottage cheese she sold to those in town, her own special receipt for piccalilli. How she wished she had brought a jar along to share with Pearl.
She dozed for a bit but suddenly sat straight up. What would her pa say when she came home without Joel? How would she tell him that Joel was not his grandson? He’d ask a million questions, and the only answer was that Joel was very obviously Mr. Chandler’s son. Then he’d rant and rave like it was all her fault. Lord, what am I going to do? You knew of this, and yet you let me come way out here. That awful train ride, so sick I was, and now here I am. Surely you brought me here for a reason. You never do anything without a reason. You brought Abram out of Haran to the land you had for him. You brought the Israelites out of Egypt. You brought Colleen out of Pennsylvania. You let me use my real name. An amethyst is a stone of value and beauty.
I have a plan for you, a plan for good and not for evil. The words floated through her mind, chasing the others before it like a dog herding cattle.
Oh, Lord, what is your plan? The wind whistled at a crack in the window casing, pleading for entry. She heard someone get up and put more wood into the stoves, closing the lids and returning to bed. Lord God, I believe you. If you sent your Son to die for us, and I know that you did, why would you ever let me go? She took in a deep breath and sighed it out. I suppose I’m to wait for an answer. The pastor at their church had once referred to God’s waiting room. She never had cared much for waiting for anything—the cow to calve, the seeds to sprout, the rain to stop or start. She sighed again. Her eyes grew heavy and she rolled over, pulled the covers up to her ears, and fell into a deep sleep.
“So what will you do now?” Pearl and Amethyst were alone in the house, savoring a cup of coffee with some cookies.
“I don’t know. If I go home without Joel, Pa will never get over it.” And never let me forget it, as if I deliberately kept Joel from him.
“You’re welcome to stay here, you know.”
“Thank you, but there is no way I can afford that.” Amethyst still had not even asked what the daily rate was for room and board.
“I’ve been needing help with things here for some time. Opal comes in and helps me two days a week in exchange for school lessons, but in the spring Carl is planning to add four more rooms, and I have been dreaming of teaching piano lessons. As you might have guessed, out here we have a scarcity of the finer things of life like music. Rand plays a guitar, I play the piano, someone usually plays bass on a washtub, but I so miss the beauty of real music, hymns, and the great composers. We have a sing-along here every so often; in fact, one will be this afternoon. Since we missed out on church services for Christmas, we’ll have an evening of carols and cookies. I couldn’t pay you much beyond room and board, at least for the winter, but come spring, when they start building again, we’ll have a full house. By next winter we could run heat up to the attic and turn that into a real nice room for you.”
Amethyst listened with intensity. She was being offered a way of escape. “I…I will have to give this some thought.” She sipped her coffee, reveling in the joy of sitting here snug and warm while the sun sparkled on the snow, even though it held no warmth. Here, it was satisfying to have no one reminding her of the chores to be done, whining how miserable he felt, and then making excuses to go to town where the saloon always welcomed him. What he was using to pay the tab was beyond her. What would happen to her when Pa died? The farm would not be hers. And now there was no Joel to keep the farm together for, to watch growing up into a man—unless she stayed here.
“Not that I’d expect you to stay with us too long. There are a lot of men out here looking for a wife and few women available.”
Not sure what to say, Amethyst bit into another cookie.
Carly left off playing with her dolls and came to stand by her mother. “Cookie?”
“Say please.”
“Cookie, pease.” Carly deliberated over the three kinds on the plate before choosing a star-shaped sugar cookie. “Baby?”
“No, he’s too little for cookies, but you are a good sister to think of him.” Pearl dropped a kiss on Carly’s head, then laid her cheek on her daughter’s fine hair.
An ache filled Amethyst’s heart. I am not Joel’s aunt. The thought smacked her in her middle. If I go back to Pa, I will never see Joel again, never watch him grow taller, never again hear him say “Auntie Colleen.”
If she stayed, would he still call her Auntie?
You could ask him to. The gentle voice seemed to acquiesce with her staying.
Father God, is this what you had in mind for me? She wasn’t sure if she heard the whisper of wood falling in the stove or a heavenly chuckle, but the sensation of goodwill and approval that rose from her toes to her head made her warm all over, in spite of the draft that blew through with the opening of the back door.
“Coffee hot?” Carl asked as he and McHenry came in.
“Will be in a minute.”
“I’ll get it. You just sit there with Carly,” Amethyst said. She made sure she had no crumbs on her skirt, then headed for the kitchen to put more wood in the stove and pull the coffeepot to the front. “Do you take cream or sugar?”
Both men shook their heads. Carl walked over and checked the woodbox. “Better bring in a couple of armloads.” As if connected at the hip, both men returned to the back porch and stacked their arms full of split wood to dump in the box.
Is this the way of all men out here, or are these men something special?
“So you picked up the harmonica while you were in Arizona?” Carl brushed the woodchips off his shirt. “You have it with you?”
“I do. I practiced for miles on the train. Kentucky seems to think I do all right. There was a man at Fort Bowie, he could make that little bitty instrument sing to break your heart. He’d play sometimes in the evening, and pretty soon there’d be a gathering outside his quarters of folks who’d been out strolling after the heat of the day. In the desert it can get right cool when the sun goes down, especially up in the mountains, where we were.”
“I used to pick at an old dulcimer out in our barn at home.” Amethyst surprised both the men and herself with the comment.
“Ah, that takes me home. Nothing like the sound of a dulcimer. My mother played a hammered dulcimer, not as easy to pack around as a pickin’ one.” McHenry leaned against the doorjamb and crossed both arms over his chest. “You think you could still play one?”
“I don’t suppose. I never had enough time to get real good at it.” She set two cups on saucers on the tray and arranged a plate of cookies. “Would you prefer the dining room or the parlor?”
“If we can get my wife to play the piano, we’ll take the parlor.”
“Pa, tree?”
“Tonight, if we have enough candles.”
“Do.”
“How do you know?”
“Ma said.”
Carl swung his daughter up under his arm. “Sack of potatoes. Anyone for a sack of potatoes?” He and the giggling Carly led the way to the parlor.
But before Amethyst could pick up the tray, McHenry did just that. “After you.”
You’d think I’ve been standing over a hot stove, Amethyst thought as she kept her fingers from burning themselves on her cheeks. “Thank you.” Never had a man treated her with such politeness, and yet that was the way Carl Hegland treated his wife too. What must it be like to be treated that way every day?
The alternative, what she was used to, played out in her mind as she led the way to the parlor and cl
eared several books off the low table in front of the sofa. She could hear her father yelling at her for not bringing the boy back with her, going off to town in a huff, after which he would come home drunk and fall in bed to sleep it off. Sometimes in the summer he’d slept in the wagon, home only because the horses knew where they lived. What if that happened in the winter with no one there to look out for him?
But the saloonkeeper said he wasn’t giving her pa any more on the tab. And where would her father get any cash? Where did he get the cash for her train fare? All the while the thoughts chased themselves through her head, she smiled and nodded, passed out the coffee, made sure everyone had cookies.
And yet it had seemed earlier that God was encouraging her to stay here in Medora.
Harness bells played their joyful song outside, and Carly ran to the window. “Comp’ny.”
Carl went to the door. “The Robertsons.” He opened it and snatched a coat off the coatrack before stepping out into the cold. “If you can stay for the singing, let’s put your team in the barn. All the rest of you, come on in.”
Pearl quit playing and joined her daughter at the door, welcoming the guests. “Come in, come in. Daisy and Charlie will likely be along in a bit.”
Cora Robertson herded her girls before her, each bringing a basket and laughing as they came. Amid the flurry of greetings and divesting of wraps, Joel circled around and came to stand by Amethyst.
He looked up at her, blue eyes serious. “Can I still call you Auntie Colleen?”
“Oh, Joel, there is nothing I would like more.” She laid her hands on his shoulders, then hugged him. “Thank you.”
“You aren’t going back there, are you?”
“Why, that is my home.”
“But Grandfather will be mad at you, and it’s not your fault.”
Out of the mouths of babes. She made herself smile. “That’s not for you to worry about. I get along.”
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