by Amelia Rose
Moira waited, torn, then finally nodded. She took one last look at Gretchen to steel her resolve, then gestured for Katia to sit down. Gretchen took a piece of simple writing paper and a pencil, then joined the ladies at the kitchen table and began to draw.
“This… is Katia,” she began slowly while drawing a simple figure of a woman, drawing streaks of long dark hair for emphasis. Next to it, she drew a simple figure to represent a baby. She looked at Katia with an imploring expression, asking the simple question with her scribbles. Katia looked expectant, as if waiting for there to be further drawings, but quickly realized her secret was undone. Her dark eyes welled up with tears that slid down her cheeks, escaping as they did since the longing in her heart left no room for any other emotion. This was a grief she’d carried silently for so long that she’d become too well versed in pushing it down deep inside her.
She nodded, then collapsed with her head thrown down on her folded arms, her shoulders shaking from her quiet sobs. Moira and Gretchen exchanged only a single glance before getting up and coming to sit on either side of her, winding their arms around her thin shoulders. Moira pressed her cheek to Katia’s black hair, holding her as the sadness poured forth relentlessly.
When Katia finally recovered enough to sit up, Gretchen handed her a handkerchief from her own sleeve. Katia dried her tears, hiccupping softly from time to time as she tried to regain her composure. She looked gratefully at Moira, but then struggled to speak.
“No Yell?” she asked imploringly.
“Oh, no, my dear girl! Why would we yell at you?” Moira asked with a light laugh, hugging Katia tightly for a moment. Gretchen shook her head.
“Yell is what she calls Mr. Russell, she can’t yet pronounce his name. I think she is asking you to not inform him of this situation.”
“Oh, dear, I don’t know if ‘tis wise to keep such a secret. On her part, not ours, I mean. He’s bound to learn eventually, and then may feel swindled.” Moira turned to Katia and pointed to the drawings. “Where?”
Katia nodded. She took the pencil and drew two lines coming from herself, then joined those lines to more figures of people. “Mama,” she said finally, drawing an arrow from the baby that Moira had drawn around Katia’s figure, then to the woman above Katia.
“I think I have it,” Gretchen said, inspired by the woman’s drawing. “I think her drawing ‘tis much similar to a genealogy, don’t you see? ‘Twould seem as though Katia’s mother has the baby?” Katia nodded at Gretchen’s explanation and tapped the pencil against the figure again. “Well, then that’s a simple matter! Can naw the baby come here? Surely Mr. Russell would be delighted at having a child, as well!”
“Oh, Gretchen, it may not be so simple as that. What if there’s a reason the child can naw come to America? And despite what we know of Mr. Russell, he’s only just signed on for a wife, not an entire family. Sad though it may be, there are a goodly number of men who would balk at raising another man’s child, too.”
“Surely you can naw think so ill of Mr. Russell as that he would keep a mother from her child?” Gretchen asked, aghast at Moira’s suggestion. “He’s thought of naught but Katia’s happiness since the moment her feet touched the platform in New Hope! If he knew she’d been separated from her child, he’d move heaven and earth to rejoin them, I know it!”
“Hmmm, you may be right,” Moira said pensively, but still uncertain. “But if Katia does not wish us to mention it, then we have no right to interfere.”
“You know,” Gretchen said in a soft voice, despite Katia’s inability to understand. She looked over her shoulder toward the cabin door before hinting. “She never said you could naw tell your own husband. And if Mr. MacAteer just felt so compelled as to say something to Mr. Russell…”
“Gretchen!” Moira breathed, her eyes widening in shock. “I am surprised at you! You can naw mean we should violate her confidence—”
“What confidence? The girl can barely speak! She did naw put us to a blood oath, she simply told you not to yell!” Gretchen looked defiantly at Moira for perhaps the first time in her life. She adored her mistress, but she wasn’t going to back down over a thing like a language barrier and a halfhearted promise. There was too much at stake.
Chapter Sixteen
In the end, Moira caved. It hurt her sensibility and pride horribly to do so, but Gretchen was right. They couldn’t keep quiet about so grave a matter, especially not one that could hurt both Katia and Nathaniel so deeply. Katia would eventually be undone by the dark secret she carried, perhaps not today but one day. Almost nearly so bad was the fact that her husband would be hurt by the lack of trust, by finding out his wife was not who he thought she was.
She found a moment to talk to Pryor, already having decided that she would lay the matter at his feet and be content with whatever he decided. After all, Nathaniel was his friend, not hers really, and her husband knew more about life as a homesteader than she thought she ever would.
“Pryor? Are you in here?” she called out to the darkness of the shadowy barn. She hadn’t remembered seeing him come in yet but knew that he often returned for a tool or a different harness. The pounding of his hammer in the barn earlier let her hope that he was still close by.
“I’m back here!” he called from inside a horse’s stall. She stepped around the wagon and made her way down the line of horse stalls, five of them, built when he crafted the barn in the anticipation of one day growing his head of livestock.
“Ah, working the land, I see. No rest for the ever weary!” Moira said with a smile, stalling for time. Pryor carried another shovelful of hay and manure to the open door and pitched it outside into the waiting wheelbarrow to later be carted off to the pile.
“A farmer’s work is never done! But what brings you out into the barn, my wife?” he asked with a smile, leaning against his shovel.
“It’s rather a personal matter, I’m afraid,” she replied, the smile on her face faltering just a little. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then recounted the story of Katia and her child.
“Oh, my, that is troubling, isn’t it?” Pryor finally said after giving pause. He looked down. “But what do you think we should do?”
“Me? I have no notion of my own on this. I thought since Mr. Russell is your friend, you would know best how to proceed.”
“No notion? None at all? I find that incredibly hard to believe!” he said with a laugh, despite the gravity of their conversation.
“Well, no, I mean, I do have an idea of what I hope to happen, but I don’t feel it’s my place to interfere. I can naw speak for Mr. Russell’s feelings about marrying a woman who has a child. As I’ve said, you know him best. If he would not wish to go after the child or worse, if he would not wish to marry Katia, then ‘twould not be kinder to not tell him?”
“Moira! You would keep this a secret?” Pryor demanded, but she quickly realized he was only jesting. She smirked at him, then crossed her arms and waited for him to answer. His brows knit together as he concentrated, but, at last, he spoke.
“Well, put yourself in his place then,” she said, her tone becoming severe. “If it had been me, and you’d had the chance to know a grave secret about me before we married… would you have wanted the choice?”
“The choice to do what?” he asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion at what Moira might say.
“Would you have wanted the choice to put me aside and not marry me?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly at the end. She cleared her throat and waited for the words that would secure her esteem in his eyes. No matter that she had not come to him a ruined girl, it still stung sharply to have to wait for him to answer.
“I think we have no other choice. We must say something to him. I mean, I will say something to him.” Pryor lowered his eyes, not meeting Moira’s gaze. “I would have wanted to know if you had a child.”
She let go of the breath she’d held all at once, feeling the shock from his words and nearly recoiling from the
determined expression on his face. The firm set of his jaw told her all she needed to know.
“I see. So you would naw have wished to go forward with the wedding had I borne some other man’s child, you mean? As though I were no better and no worse than those ladies at the tavern?” She turned on her heel as the pricking of hot, angry tears started behind her eyes. She stormed away before she would have to hear another word or see the look of disgust on her husband’s face.
Her shaky steps across the barnyard were no match for Pryor’s heavy footfalls. He caught up with her quickly, took her by the arm, and turned her to face him.
“My dear, dear wife, that is not at all what I meant! You didn’t let me explain,” he began, but her fury was already riled.
“No, there is no explaining to be done. You won’t have a damaged, wanton woman on your property, I understand completely.” She was all the more enraged at the way he fought to control his laughter. It was rare that he’d seen her temper since marrying her, but surely he’d witnessed it plenty beforehand to remember it afresh. “Oh, I see this strikes you as amusing! Then perhaps you’re not so worldly as I once thought. You certainly knew about the ladies of ill-repute at the tavern, but you obviously are not aware that not all ladies who find themselves in the capacity of motherhood had a choice in the matter! Has it occurred to you that we do not know anything of the father of Katia’s baby? You would have Mr. Russell turn his back on her as a wife, or worse, turn his back on her child, when ‘tis possible the child was begotten through… some horrific circumstances?”
The laughter went out of Pryor’s eyes. He put his hands on Moira’s shoulders and waited for her to compose herself. She held her head high and her shoulders squared, her posture serving as a reminder to both of them of her noble upbringing and station.
“Moira… my wife… I wasn’t laughing at the situation, and I never meant for even a second that he shouldn’t marry Katia. I meant that if you had come to me and I’d known you had a child that you were separated from, I would have wanted to know. It would have been the only way that I could have moved these very mountains to bring the two of you together again and offered you loving shelter in my home. And no, I admit that I didn’t think of how she came to have a baby in the first place. You’re right, it could be a great pain to her, one that’s made even worse by having to cast it aside.”
“I’m heartily sorry then,” Moira admitted quietly. “I thought the worst of you when I knew you not to be like that. I’m just so hurt for Katia, I suppose. I can naw imagine leaving little Matthew even to go into New Hope for a spool of thread or a card of needles, let alone to travel all the way across the world to marry a stranger.”
Pryor held her close as she loosed the unshed tears she carried for Katia’s plight. He kissed the top of her head before answering.
“I’ll go speak to Nathaniel straight away.”
“Speak to me about what?” Nathaniel called out brightly, waving his greeting as he walked up the yard. He held up some packages from town. “I know how hard you and the ladies are working to put together a fine wedding for us, so I wanted to bring you some supplies. I didn’t want you to dip into your own stores to help us celebrate.”
He gave two bundles to Pryor then handed the smaller packages off to Moira, who wiped her tears on her sleeve and smiled happily before reaching for them. “But Mr. Russell, you did naw have to trouble yourself. We’re happy to help you revel in the blessings of marriage! ‘Tis a wonderful occasion, is it not, husband?” She cast a knowing glance at Pryor, still daring him to argue. He coughed and quickly turned eager himself.
“Of course! And remember, you were there to help us be festive on our own wedding day! What a happy, wonderful day that was, a day when this lonely, cranky old bachelor finally became a family man!”
Why don’t you apply it a little more thickly? Moira thought with a bitter smirk. He’ll know what you’re aiming to speak to him about before you ever say a word!
She excused herself to the house and left them to have their talk. She couldn’t help herself, and watched through the window to gauge Nathaniel’s reaction, a stabbing sensation piercing her heart at the look of torture on his face. She watched as Pryor put a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, then eventually put an arm around his shoulders when that proved not to be sufficient to erase the heartache.
Together, the two men walked away and Moira returned to her work. The fear that Nathaniel would put Katia aside ate at her insides all through the day. She struggled while she worked, desperate to find a solution that would ease everyone’s pain, but nothing came to her.
Chapter Seventeen
Moira and Pryor sat down to a late supper after the animals were tended to for the night. A gentle knock on the door alerted both of them to someone’s presence outside.
“Gretchen?” Moira asked when Pryor opened the door. She stepped around her husband and greeted her old friend.
“Aye, ‘tis not only me though.” Gretchen stepped back to reveal Katia, who nodded her head in greeting. Behind her, Nathaniel waited on the bottom porch step, his hat in hand. “Mr. Russell came by for Miss Noryeva, and I thought it best to hear him out over on your property since I don’t own the house.”
“Aye, ‘tis a good decision. Well, come in, all of you. Shut out the cold now,” Moira answered, gesturing for them to come in out of the dark and chill. She took their wraps and laid them on a banister Pryor had hung in front of the fireplace for drying wet things. She pointed them to the chairs around the table and waited while the unspoken tension filled the room.
“It seems as though Mr. Russell may have come by to speak to Miss Noryeva, but she wasn’t able to understand. I’m afeared that she thinks he does not wish to marry her,” Gretchen explained.
“What makes you think so?”
“I would prefer to tell you it’s my woman’s intuition, Mr. MacAteer, but I believe ‘twould have more to do with her packing her belongings this afternoon and setting out on foot toward New Hope. I stopped her about a mile from the cabin.”
Pryor and Moira turned to gape at Katia, who still hung her head and looked down in shame.
“And you brought her back?” Moira asked quickly. “Does she not fear she is our prisoner then?”
“What would you have me do, let her set off on a thirty-mile walk only hours before sunset?” Gretchen asked calmly. Moira wasn’t used to this tone from Gretchen, and it still surprised her during the rare times when the former maid seemed to forget her station, not that she still had one. She knew Gretchen only spoke thus when she was determined… and right.
“Of course not, my dear. You did the right thing. I’m only surprised is all, and I’m still not certain we’ve found a solution,” Moira answered, her voice softening.
“I’m sorry, I’m only weary from all of this. I can naw let myself think about the poor dear and what she must be feeling.”
“Of course. But I’m sure that is why Mr. Russell has come this far tonight, is it not?” Gretchen asked, turning to the man who’d taken a chair at the end of the table. Nathaniel looked to Pryor, who nodded, then blew out a breath and began to answer.
“I want to marry Katia… more than anything. But I can’t do it knowing she’s sorrowful and heart broken. I won’t do it, I mean. She can’t very well give me her heart, not in the way I’ve already given her mine if she’s left a piece of it behind.” He looked toward the blackness outside the windows for a moment, then continued. “That’s why I’ve decided to sell my claim and take Katia back to her country, so we can be together and she can be with her child again.”
Pryor, Moira, and Gretchen sat stunned, staring intently at Nathaniel and what this meant for his future. The thought of selling his claim was preposterous! And for a woman he’d only just met in the space of a week or two!
“Nathaniel, how can you be sure about this?” Pryor asked quietly, darting his eyes to Katia to see if she noticed. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel slighted o
r insulted, but for this man who’d fought against the odds to make a go of homesteading, only to sell his claim and lose everything he’d worked himself to the bone for, it defied logic.
But so does love, Pryor reminded himself, casting a quick look at his own wife’s angelic face, secure in knowing the beautiful, strong little boy she’d borne him was asleep in his cradle.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything, not even my decision to come to Montana in the first place. I’d rather have Katia as my wife than own my land. I’d live over a laundry in some smelly town, working a factory job or working for the railroad again, if it meant she’d be with me.”
“And what of her child?” Moira asked in a voice that barely broke above a whisper. “You do know ‘tis not enough to care for it and provide for it. Can you truly love it as if it were your own flesh and blood?”
“I know I can, because it’s a part of Katia. I think the world of her, I even… I love her. And before you even ask, no. I don’t care if it was something shameful or awful or if she was married before… none of that matters. All that matters is Katia, and her happiness. If this is what she needs to be happy, and I already know her well enough to know she’ll never be happy without her child, then so be it.”
They were quiet for a moment, all of them pondering the implications of Nathaniel forfeiting his claim. Katia looked around the room uncomfortably, aware that something momentous was happening, but unsure of what their grim faces and hushed foreign words could mean. She looked to Gretchen and Moira for some kind of explanation, but their faces were nearly unreadable, torn as they were between wanting the best for Katia and her child, and Nathaniel, too, but also knowing that losing his farm and living in the city was the last thing the poor man wanted to do.
“Have you tried explaining this to Miss Noryeva?” Pryor asked. She sat up taller at the mention of her name, now certain that their worried expressions had something momentous to do with her. The thought made her afraid, even if she didn’t know what to be afraid of yet.