by Carré White
I had accepted this grim prognosis, having no other choice. Nathan and Jerry had brought a bed into the dining room, where I made curtains for privacy, separating the space from the parlor and the entryway. Frank’s new accommodations suited him just fine. He’d surrounded himself with books, reading all day long, while convalescing.
I’d received visitors; Adaline, Rhoda, and Sally had stopped by, bringing casseroles and well-wishes. They’d all seemed hopeful at first, but then, after realizing that Frank wouldn’t be able to walk again, they’d glanced at me with sympathy. The letters I sent to my family returned with similar sentiments. I didn’t have the heart to tell my parents that my husband might never walk again. I would spare them that for as long as I could.
Jerry and Nathan worked the farm, as planting season was underway, but I was trapped in the house, either washing or cooking. Frank’s inability to feel anything in his lower extremities made bodily functions an ordeal. He wore a type of diaper. I sometimes spent hours doing laundry, scrubbing over the washboard with lye soap, which irritated my skin. My hands were a mess.
After Jerry approached me about wages, I realized a trip to Denver City was in order. It was well past time to go to the bank. I left Frank to his reading, while I stepped up into the wagon, with Nathan holding the reins.
“I need a revolver. Then I can go to town alone. It’s silly that you have to escort me.”
He cast a sideways glance. “That’s a terrible idea. Women shouldn’t handle weapons. You’re liable to hurt yourself.”
I pursed my lips. “If it’s good enough for Sally Higgins, I don’t see why I can’t manage a weapon.”
“Women and guns don’t mix. It’s like Indians and liquor. Bad idea.”
“Must you always be so…blunt?”
“Yes, ma’am.” A toothpick hung from the side of his mouth.
“I didn’t have time to make a list.” I searched my mind, committing to memory the supplies I needed. Knowing my luck, I’d forget the most important items. “Remind me later, I need a new inkpot.”
“Will do.”
A thought registered. “Didn’t you say you had to leave soon to help someone?”
“Plans have changed.”
“How so?”
“Cause I’m needed here more.”
“Oh.”
Nathan wasn’t normally the most talkative person, and he seemed pensive today, more so than usual. Sensing he wasn’t interested in conversation, I kept my thoughts to myself, anticipating the trip into Denver City, as it was a distraction from the tedium of my life. Once we arrived, the streets were surprisingly empty.
“Where’s everyone gone?”
“Mining. They found silver.”
“That’s all it takes to clear the city?” My tone was slightly cynical.
We left the wagon, the horse tied securely to a sturdy wooden rail outside the post office. Freight wagons had arrived, as men unloaded crates. Nathan helped me down, supporting my wrist.
“Won’t you come in and see about your mail?”
“My mail?” He snorted. “Most people I know can’t read or write, Mrs. Clark. I’ve a better chance of gettin’ struck by lightning than gettin’ a letter.”
I wasn’t sure how I would respond to that. “Fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”
He tipped his hat. “I’ll be waiting.”
I mailed my letters, obtaining several new ones, which usually brightened my day, but I knew they would be filled with sympathetic language and anecdotes on what I should do to help Frank walk again. He had tried to sit up the other day, but even that had been impossible. He couldn’t feel anything from his navel down.
“Wait, Mrs. Clark,” said the postmaster, who rushed to the back of the store. “I might have something else for you.”
Two men appeared with a rustic-looking crate. “Oh, my goodness.” I hadn’t ordered anything that I knew of. “Who’s it from?”
“A Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman of Troy, New York.”
“What have they done?” I murmured to myself.
“Pardon?”
“Oh, never mind. What is it?”
He grinned. “That’ll be for you to discover, Mrs. Clark. You need any help getting this out?”
“Yes, please.” I had been in poor spirits just moments earlier, but the prospect of whatever this box contained excited me. “Thank you.” The men carried the crate out the door, towards the carriage, while Nathan stood by the conveyance, his eyes widening at the size of the parcel.
“What’s that?”
“I have no idea. It’s from my parents.”
“What’s it say on the invoice?”
“I’ll find out.” I rushed into the building, striding towards the counter. “Where’s the invoice, Mr. Parnell?”
“Excuse me?” he looked up from whatever he was reading.
“The invoice on my package.”
“Just a moment.” He rifled through a stack of papers, pulling out a crumpled sheet. “It says, one Bath wheelchair.” My parents had purchased a wheelchair for my husband! Stunned, I could only stare at the postmaster. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Mrs. Clark?”
“No, thank you.” I rushed from the building, feeling elated that my family had gone through such effort and expense for Frank. “It’s a wheelchair!”
“Fantastic.”
It had been hoisted onto the wagon. “I need to stop at the bank and the mercantile.” Nathan seemed unperturbed, chewing casually on the toothpick. “You needn’t watch over me. We can meet in an hour, if you like.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course.”
He pushed himself away from the wagon, as he had been leaning against it. “Alrighty then.”
“W-where will you be?”
“I’ll gonna kick up a row at the bar.”
My expression fell. “Oh, Mr. Weaver. You wouldn’t.”
“It’s only an hour. That’s hardly enough time to get into any real trouble.” He grinned, flinging the toothpick to the ground. Then he tipped his hat. “Happy shopping.”
I sighed, watching as he sauntered off, his boots clicking on the wooden walkway. He disappeared into the saloon, while hearty male shouts rang out and someone said, “Where’d you go, Nathan? Haven’t seen you for ages. You take French leave or what?”
“Shut up, and pour me a drink.”
Disgusted with the prospect of having to spend the afternoon with a drunkard, I held a burgundy, drawstring purse, determined to have a word with the banker regarding my husband’s affairs. I needed money to pay wages, although I had never handled these matters before in my life. I hated arithmetic, and I felt a twinge of resentment that I now had to deal with this business on top of everything else.
Mr. Ross led me through a set of swinging doors to his office. “How’s Frank doing, Mrs. Clark?”
“He’s in fine spirits. Thank you.”
“I hope he’ll be able to make a full recovery.” He sat behind a heavily carved desk. His expression was concerned, his brows furrowing.
“I…don’t know what you’ve heard, but…it’s looking like his paralysis might be permanent.”
“That’s grave news indeed.”
“I’m here because I need money to pay wages, sir. I’ve no idea about such things, as you can imagine, but now I have to take care of them.”
He opened a folder, reading for a moment. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “I’m not certain how much you know, but the account is nearly depleted.” He handed me a piece of paper with numbers written on each line, ending with the sum of $30.
“You mean to tell me that there’s only thirty dollars left in the account?”
“Yes, ma’am. However,” he held up another paper, “you owe several hundred to various businesses.”
My stomach fell. “What?”
“Your husband borrowed money to pay for lumber and supplies, Mrs. Clark.”
I placed fingers over my mouth to keep my lips
from trembling. “Why, I didn’t know about that at all. He never said anything. I thought we had plenty of money.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“C-can I get a few dollars to pay for wages?”
“Certainly.”
“Then I’ll think of how I’m going to repay everybody.”
“Mrs. Clark, some household debt it not uncommon. This isn’t an insurmountable obstacle. I’m sure once your husband’s back on his feet, he’ll think of a way to repay his debts. People know he’s met with misfortune. They’ll give him some leeway.”
“I’ll need about twenty dollars then, and I’ll be going.” I got to my feet, although my knees shook. “Thank you, Mr. Ross.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Clark.”
My mind spun unhappily, and, as I left the bank, I felt like crying, but I had to keep myself together long enough to make all of my purchases. At the mercantile, Sally Higgins stood behind the counter wearing a frilly white cap.
“Well, hello, Hannah. How’s Frank?”
“He’s as good as can be expected.”
“We’re all praying he makes a full recovery. The new pastor isn’t nearly as gifted as your husband. I hope he can come preach again real soon.” There were other customers, and I noticed that they lingered, taking more time than necessary looking at things. They wanted to hear all the gossip.
“I…things are real good, Sally. He’s feeling so much better now. The corn’s growing by heaps, and the pigs had another litter. I’ve got eggs everywhere from those chickens.”
“You should bring the extras in or they’ll spoil. We sell fresh produce too.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “What a wonderful idea. It would be wasteful to let them spoil.” I searched my mind for the things I needed. “I’m looking for an inkpot. Mine dried up.”
“We have some right here.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry I’ve not been by to see you lately.”
“That’s fine. I know you’re busy.”
“Come in Sunday after church, and we’ll have tea.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.”
I tried desperately to even out my voice, to exude an aura of nonchalance and carefreeness. By the time I left the store, I was exhausted, and my head ached. Nathan stood by the wagon, his hands in his pockets.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you already.” I thought I would have to find someone to go into the saloon and get him.
“Let me help with that.” He took the packages from me.
“Thank you.”
I climbed onto the seat without assistance, wanting to leave Denver City as quickly as possible. More miners had shown up, as the day had worn on; their presence set me on edge, as they leered at me from the boardwalk. Nathan, oblivious to my suffering, took up the reins, spurring the horse into a slow trot.
“Get everything you needed? The inkpot?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Not a thing.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I’m perfectly fine, Mr. Weaver.”
“All right, but we both know that’s a lie.”
It irked me that he was able to see through me so easily. I stewed in my turbulent thoughts the entire ride home, my mind playing out unpleasant scenarios. We owed hundreds of dollars all over town, and I had no idea how this would ever be repaid. Once at the house, I left my things in the wagon, desperately needing a moment to myself.
“I’ll get it all later.” I headed for the cornfield, not knowing what else to do.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll…be back.”
The stalks weren’t too high yet, and I wandered down a lane, my boots crunching over dried chunks of earth. Tears began to fall, as the floodgates opened. I’d been holding them in for two hours; the effort had been exhausting. At the end of the lane, far from the house, I fell to my knees, not caring about the condition of my dress. My body shook, and my lips quivered, while grief stole over me. I sobbed uncontrollably, my stomach clenching, over and over, until I ached.
“What’s wrong?”
Stunned by the intrusion, I wasn’t able to respond, having spiraled past that point moments earlier. Strong hands grasped my shoulders, and I found myself pressed against Nathan’s chest, his arms holding me securely.
“I knew something happened. What is it?”
“I…” I pushed him away, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “Can’t I have a moment of privacy?”
I’d hoped I would be able to regain my composure, but a fresh wave of tears came then, my chest heaving. He held me, although I didn’t want him to. It was unseemly to be in a stranger’s arms, but…we were alone and I needed comfort, having tried so hard over the weeks to be strong. In the end, I gave up and let him hold me while I cried, until there was nothing left. His tow shirt was soaked from my tears; the coarse quality of the material scratched my face.
He produced a handkerchief and used it, wiping away wetness from beneath my eyes. “What’s the matter?”
“I…shouldn’t say anything.”
“Stop that right now. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I found out…we have no money.”
To my astonishment, he laughed, “That’s all? I thought somebody died.”
My mouth fell open. “I have no money for wages. I have no money for…anything! We owe money everywhere. I had no idea we were so bad off.”
He shrugged. “That happens.”
His lack of sympathy was irritating. “I can’t pay you.”
“I figured.”
“How do you mean?”
“I haven’t been paid yet.”
“I thought Frank gave you wages?”
“No, ma’am. He’s waiting for the crops to come in.”
Our eyes met. “You don’t mind working for people who don’t pay you?”
“I’m living here for free, eating for free. It’s not a bad deal.” He smiled then, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “Once the crops come on, there’ll be money. You should take the extra eggs to town and sell ‘em. I could do that for you, if you want.” He dabbed my face, wiping away several wayward tears. “Haven’t you looked around, lady?”
Now I was confused. “What?”
“How many farmers do you see in these parts?”
“Not many.”
“No, ma’am. Most people are hunting for gold. It’s Pike’s Peak or bust. They’re not interested in tilling land and growing things. But, how are they gonna eat? They can’t wait for a shipment to come in. It’s not practical. People gotta eat now. Once winter comes, they’ll be sore outta luck. Most of those men will leave for the season. The crazy ones will stay.”
“I’m sorry, but what does that have to do with my situation?”
“You’re gonna have plenty of corn and potatoes. We’re doing a wheat field soon as well. There’ll be hay and wheat and corn. Those are things you can sell. The extras from the vegetable garden can be taken into town and sold. People are starved for fresh produce.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Your situation isn’t as dire as you think.”
I stared steadily at him, which was unladylike. I hadn’t noticed that my hand was on his thigh, but he had, as his gaze had lowered. Snatching it away, I sucked in a breath, finally feeling a small measure of control over my emotions. “I have to check on Frank. It’s past lunch time.” He got to his feet, reaching for me. “Thank you…Nathan. I appreciate your kind words.” Something flared in his eyes, setting my pulses racing in a peculiar way.
“My name sure sounds nice on your lips.”
I had struggled with grief, fighting to keep my equanimity. Now…I was faced with an entirely different dilemma—lust.
Chapter Eight
After finding out the truth about my finances, the upset didn’t last for long, which was strange. I avoided speaking about it with Frank, letting him believe that I remained unaware. He k
new of the situation. His plans had been to pay off the debts after the harvest. I had to trust that my husband was astute enough to manage our affairs, and the last thing I wanted to do was confront him on this issue and question his judgment. I had other things to worry about…
My parents had sent a wheelchair that had originally come from England. It had been secondhand, which was fine by me, but Frank hated it. Nathan and Jerry had carried him outside, after Dr. Caldwell gave permission for such activities. He enjoyed being able to be outdoors to look at his fields, but someone had to push him, and the going was difficult, as the wheels stuck in the soil and ceased rotating. But I persisted in taking him out, wanting him to feel the sun upon his face, although he complained about the chair not being comfortable.
The first Sunday Frank joined me in church; I felt a measure of peace then that our lives might actually return to some form of order, although a new pastor now preached. Nathan and Jerry helped Frank into the wheelchair, pushing him to the church, but he had to be carried in. We arrived early enough to not draw attention, but people still stopped to stare.
Rhoda had made a beeline for us, her bonnet bouncing with each step. “Well, look at you! It’s so good to see you up and about, Mr. Clark.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Caldwell. If it wasn’t for your husband’s skill at healing, I wouldn’t even be here today.”
“Oh, bosh! You were doing just fine on your own.” She glanced at me. “How are you, Hannah? We missed you at tea last week.”
“I’m sorry. I plain forgot about that.”
“I understand. Perhaps you can come today?” She looked hopeful.
“I’m not sure.”
“You should go, darling. You needn’t fuss over me anymore than you already do.”
“I suppose, or Nathan can bring you home and come get me.”
“We’ll figure something out.”
Rhoda took a seat next to her husband, who nodded at me. I shouldn’t have, but I craned my neck, glimpsing rows filled with people, among them were miners and several of the parlour house ladies, who sat in the back. Sally Higgins and Adaline Ross were behind me. After the service, I waited for the congregation to file out, wondering how I would remove Frank from the church. To my horror, he had soiled himself, although he couldn’t feel it. I would not be able to attend the tea after all, as we needed to hurry home.