Westward Hearts

by Melody Carlson

  “I just don’t understand.” Clara shook her head. “How did all this happen?”

  “How do you think it happened?” Asa said in a grumpy tone.

  “Well… I…” Clara sighed and then slowly shook her head. “I… I suppose it’s for the best. It’s an ill wind that blows no good.”

  “Anyway…” Elizabeth continued calmly for the sake of the children. “Uncle Matthew might be sad for a few days or even longer. So let’s all be kind and understanding to him. And it is best if we don’t talk about Violet or any of this. Not at all.” She glanced at her parents now. “Uncle Matthew doesn’t even want to hear Violet’s name spoken. It will only make him sad.”

  “That’s just fine and dandy by me.” Asa flopped some turkey meat onto Elizabeth’s plate with a grim expression. He was obviously disturbed by this news.

  “And now I’m going to fill Matthew a plate of food. Even though he’s sad, he still needs to eat.” Elizabeth reached for one of the empty plates that had been set for Matthew and Violet, but her mother beat her to it.

  “Let me do that,” Clara insisted as she grabbed a plate and began heaping it with potatoes.

  Elizabeth nodded. “But I’ll take it up to him.”

  “Poor Uncle Matthew,” Ruth said sadly.

  “We’ll have to do our best to cheer him up.” Elizabeth gathered a napkin and silverware. “But not until he’s ready to join us.” She stood and picked up the heavy plate of food.

  “Give him our love.” Clara sighed.

  “Of course.” Elizabeth turned to leave the room.

  “Can we still have Christmas?” Ruth asked meekly.

  Elizabeth paused, but to her relief, her father laughed heartily and merrily. “Of course, we can still have Christmas, little Ruth. As I live, we will not let the likes of Walter and Violet rob us of that pleasure. Now, let’s enjoy this fine meal your grandmother has prepared for us.”

  Chapter Three

  Despite Elizabeth’s announcement that she wanted to clean up after dinner by herself, Clara would not hear of it. “Please, Mother,” Elizabeth urged, “you worked hard to make a lovely meal. Now I want you to put your feet up.”

  “Nonsense. We will do it together,” Clara insisted. “Just like we always do.”

  So while Asa took the children out for an after-dinner walk and to check on a mare that was with foal, Elizabeth and Clara began washing the dishes.

  “Fetch some more hot water, will you?” Clara pumped more fresh water into the big stone sink while Elizabeth filled a kettle with steaming water from the reservoir on the side of the stove.

  “Remember the old stove?” Elizabeth asked as she carefully poured the hot water into the sink. “And how you had to heat water in a kettle on the top?”

  “Yes, I must admit that this new cookstove does make life easier.” Clara smiled. “But it took a while to convince me of it.”

  Elizabeth pumped cold water into the empty kettle now. “I remember how upset you were when James and I delivered it for your forty-fifth birthday.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t upset exactly. It was simply that I was rather attached to my old stove. My goodness, I’d had it since you were a baby.”

  “But it was falling apart.” Elizabeth opened the reservoir, pouring in the cold water, which would soon be hot. She never appreciated these stoves more than when doing dishes.

  “Yes, well, I suppose we older folks can get a bit set in our ways.”

  Elizabeth picked up a linen towel and continued with drying. “This Haviland china is so pretty, Mother. And you still have almost a full set of it too.” She set a rosebud-trimmed plate on the growing stack in the center of the worn pine table. She knew she was trying to make small talk…anything to keep the subject away from having to talk about her brother.

  “Yes, but only seven dinner plates. Just enough to set the table today. Although as it turned out, we didn’t need the plate for Violet.”

  “And Father got the china set for you for your tenth wedding anniversary?” Elizabeth asked to distract her. “How long ago was that, Mother?”

  “You know good and well how long ago that was.” Clara frowned as she handed her daughter another dripping plate. “We celebrated our thirtieth anniversary last June, Elizabeth Anne. I know what you’re doing, child.”

  Elizabeth wiped furiously on the plate. “I’m just admiring your china, Mother. I wonder how difficult it would be to find a plate to replace the one that got—”

  “What did your brother say to you when you fetched his plate, Elizabeth? I know you’re keeping something from me. Please, while Asa and the children are occupied outdoors, tell me what is transpiring right here under my own roof. If you don’t spill the beans, I will go up and ask Matthew to—”

  “No, Mother, please don’t trouble Matthew just now.”

  “Then speak, daughter.” She handed Elizabeth a bowl.

  “Matthew has gotten a rather strange idea into his head, Mother.”

  “I suspected as much.” Clara vigorously rubbed fresh soap into the dishrag. “Is he going to take off for Frankfort and demand that Violet return with—”

  “No, Mother, nothing like that.” Elizabeth pushed a strand of hair away from her cheek as she considered her words. Perhaps it was best to simply lay it out there. “As a matter of fact, Matthew has set his mind in the opposite direction.”

  “The opposite direction?” Clara frowned. “West?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “Oh, my goodness!”

  “I know he is only responding to the pain he feels right now. He’s hurting badly, and he’s not thinking clearly.”

  “West…” Clara shook her head with a stunned look.

  “He feels so humiliated by what Violet and Walter have done to him. As if he can no longer hold his head up in this town. It’s so unfair too because it’s not even his fault. But who can blame him when you consider how folks will talk.”

  “I’m sure some tongues are flapping already.” She handed Elizabeth a platter. “Poor Matthew.”

  “I told him that good decisions are not made in haste.”

  “Wise advice.”

  “But he seems bound and determined to leave, Mother.” Elizabeth decided not to hold back now. “He even started to pack his bags.”

  “He’s packing his bags?” Clara looked horrified. “Matthew would head west in the middle of winter? Surely, you’re not serious. That’s not only foolhardy, it could be deadly as well.”

  “If it’s any comfort, I suspect he was being melodramatic. He’s so distraught…it’s as if he feels he must do something.”

  “But heading west in winter?” She pursed her lips. “Even if he’s brokenhearted, surely the boy’s got more sense than that.”

  “I know, Mother. I think I convinced him to wait.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Elizabeth made a sheepish smile. “When he wasn’t looking, I sneaked his bag out of his room. I hid it beneath your bed.”

  Clara chuckled. “Well, that might slow him down a bit.” Her concerned look returned. “But not for long if he’s really determined. Oh, dear, what will we do to prevent this?”

  “I’m not sure, but I did get him to promise to join us this evening… to celebrate Christmas Eve with his family. He agreed he would come down later. He also promised not to leave on Christmas Day. I told him that was heartless.”

  “Well, that is some consolation.”

  They continued to work side by side, and other than the quiet crackling of the stove and clinking of dishes, the kitchen was silent. Elizabeth knew that her mother was worried about Matthew. She was likely plotting some way to delay him from making a foolish journey. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was torn—unsure whether she should disclose the plan that was slowly piecing itself together in her mind. However, she felt concerned for her mother. How much more distress could this poor woman take?

  Finally, Elizabeth decided to speak. “Remember when I told you how I was feeling unset
tled recently?”

  Clara shrugged as she dipped a pot into the gray soapy water. “We need more hot water.”

  Elizabeth reached for the kettle, quickly filling it. “You thought perhaps I was in need of a new husband or suffering from feminine moodiness.” She slowly poured the hot water into the sink.

  “Yes?” Clara peered curiously at her.

  “Well, I think it’s something more than that, Mother.”

  Clara took in a deep breath, as if bracing herself for more bad news.

  “As I was talking with Matthew, encouraging him not to make this big decision in haste, I began to wonder…”

  “Wonder? About what?” Clara waited.

  “About an old dream.”

  “What old dream?”

  Elizabeth twisted the damp linen towel in her hands. “Of going west.”

  “Oh…” Clara turned back to the sink, busying herself with scrubbing a cast-iron pot.

  “Remember how James and I often spoke of this very thing? Of joining his brother John and his family out West?”

  “But that was before—”

  “I know, Mother. But I keep getting this feeling. It’s as if James is telling me to go.” Elizabeth poured out the rest of her story, confessing to her mother about how she often woke in the middle of the night, and how she was beginning to feel that a better life might be waiting for them out West. “You know as well as I do that my small farm can barely support a family, and when Jamie is—”

  “Yes, but you have your hands full with that small farm,” Clara pointed out. “And even more so if Matthew leaves.”

  “Not if the children and I go with him.”

  Clara clutched a hand to her chest and closed her eyes as if in pain. “Lord have mercy!”

  “I don’t mean right now, Mother. But maybe in the springtime. We would have to journey west to Missouri and join a party of—”

  “Elizabeth Anne!” Clara’s eyes flashed with fear. “You cannot be serious. First I lost the twins to cholera, and then your brother Peter. Now you’re saying I’m going to lose my only two surviving children and my grandchildren as well? You must be jesting!”

  “I don’t really know anything for sure, Mother. And I certainly didn’t mean to upset you like this. I only want you to understand what has been on my mind of late. I tried to tell you once before.”

  Clara stared at Elizabeth with widened eyes. “I am flabbergasted, Elizabeth. I had no inkling you harbored such wild imaginings!”

  “I’m nearly as confused and perplexed about this as you are. I’m simply trying to be honest with you, although I realize I must sound strange.”

  “Strange, indeed.” Clara turned back to the sink.

  Elizabeth regretted her words. What had she been thinking? And to say such a thing on Christmas Eve—and after Matthew’s troubles. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Mother. Please, don’t take this too much to heart. It’s entirely possible that this is nothing more than a silly old dream. Something that James and I conjured up long ago and that is best forgotten.”

  “I should say so.”

  Just then Asa and the children burst into the kitchen.

  “Penny had her foal,” Ruth said with glistening eyes. “We got to see it, Mama!”

  “Oh, my!” Clara dried her hands and looked at Asa. “But isn’t it too soon? Is the foal well?”

  “I thought it was early. But it seems Penny knew what she was doing. The foal—a fine-looking colt—is healthy.” He chuckled. “Healthy as a horse.”

  “His coat is fuzzy,” Ruth told them. “And his eyes are brown.”

  “And he stood up almost right away,” Jamie said. “He’s a strong one.”

  “What will you call him?” Elizabeth asked her father.

  “Jamie picked a name,” Asa told her.

  “Copper,” Jamie declared. “He’s the same color as Penny.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Perfect.”

  “Can I go and tell Uncle Matthew?” Ruth asked.

  “Not just yet,” Elizabeth said. “But he promised to join us for dessert. You can tell him then.” She exchanged glances with her mother and suspected they had just shared the same thought—they hoped Matthew hadn’t snuck out already.

  “Now that we worked off that fine dinner, I’m ready for a great big wedge of apple pie,” Asa announced. “And maybe a small piece of pumpkin too.”

  “Not yet,” Clara told him, shooing him and the children from the kitchen. “We aren’t even finished in here. Unless you are offering to help, be on your way.”

  Elizabeth handed a tin plate of table scraps to Jamie. “Go feed this to Flax, son. He deserves a Christmas dinner too. Then let him run outside a bit before it gets dark.”

  “Go check on your brother,” Clara told Elizabeth after the children left. “Make sure he’s not sneaking away.”

  Elizabeth nodded as she untied her apron and hurried up the narrow back staircase and tapped quietly on Matthew’s partially opened door. Alarmed that he had already left without saying a word to them, she pushed open the door to see that her brother was sleeping soundly on his bed. Various clothes and shoes and miscellaneous items were strewn about his room, as if he had tired of attempting to pack without the aid of a bag and had given up. Feeling a mixture of guilt and relief, she quietly closed the door and tiptoed back down the hallway. Her trickery had delayed his plan for the time being and perhaps longer. But what could they do to keep him around until spring?

  Chapter Four

  Matthew didn’t come down until after the children had gone to bed. Even then he was sullen and quiet. “Pecan pie,” Elizabeth said as she set a generous slice topped with heavy cream on the table in front of him. “Your favorite.”

  He just shrugged as he picked up the fork, holding it loosely in his hand.

  “Want some coffee to go with that?” Clara offered.

  “Sure he does,” Elizabeth answered for him.

  “You’ve had a rough day, son.” Asa leaned back in his chair, taking a long pull from his pipe.

  Matthew stuck his fork into the pie without responding.

  Elizabeth took the chair closest to him and, feeling protective, began to chatter about the new colt and what a beauty he was going to be.

  “He’s got running legs,” Asa said. “And he’s all yours, son, if you want him.”

  Matthew looked at his father with an empty expression. “Thanks, Pa, but I don’t want him.”

  Asa tossed an uneasy glance at Elizabeth, as if he expected her to fix this somehow.

  “Well, you might change your mind on that once you see the colt,” she said lightly. “He’s truly a fine—”

  “Can’t take a horse that young to the frontier.” Matthew took a bite of the pie, chewing noisily.

  “Wh—what?” Asa sat up in his chair, coughing and sputtering. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m going west, Pa.” Matthew looked evenly at his father.

  Clara set a cup of coffee on the table and then sat down across from her son. Deep frown lines creased her forehead as she rested her chin in one hand. “Surely you’re not planning to leave until springtime, are you?”

  “I’d leave today if I could.” With eyes downward, he took a sip of coffee.

  “Are you serious?” Asa looked dumbfounded.

  Matthew set the cup down with a clink. “I am.”

  “Because of that flibbertigibbet Violet?”

  Matthew’s eyes narrowed.

  “Matthew and I discussed this earlier,” Elizabeth said quickly. “As you know, James and I had intended to go to the Oregon Territory one day. We wanted to join his brother John and his family out there.”

  “Yes, yes.” Asa waved his hand. “That was before…well, you know…before.”

  “I know. But I have been thinking about it lately, Father. I have been wondering if it still might be the right thing for me to do… for the children and me.”

  “Have you lost your ever-loving mind?” Asa set
his pipe down with a thud. “A lone woman and her young children out on the Western frontier? With savages and wild animals and infidels around every corner? Elizabeth Anne, if I didn’t know better I’d say you’ve lost your good senses. You cannot possibly be serious.”

  Elizabeth glanced toward the stairs, hoping that the children were fast asleep by now. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted them to be privy to. “I know it must sound strange to your ears, Father. But it was our dream…James’ and mine…and I think perhaps it is a dream that should not have died.”

  Asa got up and began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace with hands in the air, expounding on all the dangers in the West. “I read the accounts in the newspapers,” he told her. “It’s no place for a lone woman. And I would wager that no self-respecting trail master would allow a widow woman and her children to join his party.”

  “You are missing one important point,” Matthew said quietly. “I would be traveling with Elizabeth and the children. She wouldn’t be alone.”

  “But…but…this is absurd!” Asa sat back down, blowing out a frustrated sigh. “Completely absurd.”

  “Asa,” Clara said quietly. “Maybe we should let Matthew and Elizabeth speak for themselves and explain their thinking on this matter.”

  “Are you suggesting that you approve of this harebrained idea?” Asa shook his finger at her. “We’ve already lost Peter—do you wish to see your only other children and your grandchildren banished to the wilderness?”

  “Certainly not.” She firmly shook her head. “But they are entitled to their opinions. I should like to hear more.”

  “Why?” Asa demanded. Now he turned to Elizabeth. “And why, pray tell, would you embrace such folly?”

  She took in a deep breath, steadying herself. “James and I used to talk of our future, Father. We wanted a change. We knew that our farm was small and that the land was worn out from too many years of tobacco.”

  “And then you became abolitionists,” Asa reminded her. “Getting rid of your slaves didn’t make farming any easier.”

  She nodded. “I know. But we didn’t regret it then, and I don’t regret it now. Especially after reading Harriet Beecher Stowe’s book last summer.”