Romancing Olive

by Bush, Holly

  “Better not,” Mary shouted.

  The man chuckled an evil sound, and recocked his leg. The booted blow to Olive’s midsection would have knocked her senseless had it not been followed by a blast of shot into the dirt. Olive yelped with fear and the man clenched his fists.

  “I’ll kill you, ya little bitch, git out here,” he shouted.

  “Stay in the house. Lock the doors,” Olive screamed. Another shot reverberated in the air and Olive rolled on the ground. She heard steps on the porch and could vaguely see Mary standing feet spread with the shotgun pointed at her grandfather.

  “That guns a shaking so bad girl, you’ll never hit me. Now put it down and git your things, fore I git mad enough to beat some sense into ya.”

  “I’m not going with you, ever. And neither is John. And I know that if you’re on the wrong end of a shotgun, especially within spittin’ distance, you don’t stand a chance,” Mary said.

  The man eyed the girl and the woman on the ground. “We’ll see about that.” He spit again and turned to mount up. Olive heard and felt the pounding of horse hooves and turned to find Peg holding her glasses.

  When the rider was out of sight, Mary dropped the gun and ran to Olive and Peg. Tears streamed down her face and she fell to the ground on her knees, shaking. “Aunt Olive, are you all right? Don’t die. Please don’t die.”

  The last conscious thought Olive had, before tumbling into darkness, was that Mary had called her ‘aunt.’

  * * *

  Jacob heard the shotgun blast and stood straight looking back across the fields. Another. Mary would’ve never fired that gun twice, if there hadn’t been real trouble. He left the horse standing and began to run through the muddy plowed ground. The boys followed and he could hear John’s wailing and Luke’s encouragement. By the time he could see the house Jacob was sweating and winded. He was still running full tilt when Peg spotted him and began to run to him, crying. The child flew into his arms and he stopped a moment to catch his breath and soothe his terrified daughter.

  “What happened Peg? Is everyone alright?” he asked.

  “Aunt Olive,” the child cried and he looked up to see Mary trying to lift and drag Olive across the porch.

  “My God, Mary, what happened?” he said as he put Peg down and ran to the steps. Olive’s face was bloody and bruises were already forming.

  Mary wrung her hands and Jacob could see she was near hysterical.

  “My grandpa come for John and me. He beat up Aunt Olive. Don’t make us go, Jacob. I’m sorry,” Mary said.

  The girl continued gibbering and apologizing when Jacob opened his arms to her. Mary blew a breath hard through her mouth, looking at Jacob’s outstretched hands. Fear, he supposed launched her into his arms and she clung to him, quivering. She sobbed and Jacob rubbed her hair and back and shushed her.

  “Nobody’s leaving, Mary. Not if they don’t want to. Now help me with Olive,” he said.

  Jacob bent to pick Olive up from the twisted heap she lay in. Her head fell back over his arm as he carried her into the house and laid her on the bed. Mary went for water and rags and the boys ran through the door.

  “What happened?” Luke cried.

  John ran to his sister and she hugged him. He walked slowly to Olive lying stretched out on the bed and watched her chest rise and fall. Jacob saw the boy’s terror grow and he pulled the child close to him.

  “She’s going to be fine, John. Rub her hand so she’ll wake up,” Jacob said.

  The boy, white faced, nodded grimly and knelt beside Olive.

  “Now tell me what happened, Mary,” Jacob said as he washed the dirt from Olive’s face. Her lip was split and her mouth already a swollen mess. Mary recounted her grandfather’s visit and Peg held her hand as she did. When Mary told Jacob that the man had kicked Olive, he felt the blow in his side as if he had received it. In his mind, he saw Olive, facing the danger alone to protect Peg and Mary. When she was done talking and shaking wildly now from the retelling, he stood up from Olive’s side and went to Mary and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “You did the right thing,” he said.

  Mary nodded and bit her lip. Jacob turned back to Olive and touched the angry cut on her mouth. She groaned and Jacob called to her.

  Olive awoke with a start and shouted, “Mary, Peg, where are you?”

  “They’re here Olive. They’re fine. What hurts?” Jacob asked.

  Olive laid her head back and closed her eyes. “Everything. My side the most. Mary’s grandfather . . .”

  “I know Olive. Mary told me the whole thing. I wished you would have gone in the house as soon as you saw a stranger,” Jacob said.

  “So do I,” Olive said grimly. She opened her eyes and saw John by her side. His lip trembled and she held up a limp hand to his face. “I’ll be fine, John.”

  “My, god,” Olive said and nearly sat straight up. “Where’s Mark?”

  “He’s here, Aunt Olive. Slept through the whole thing.” Mary said.

  Olive looked at her niece and tears came to her eyes. “You saved my life, Mary.” Mary’s lip trembled. She smiled tentatively and Olive held her hand out to the girl. Mary stepped closer.

  “And all along, I thought I was here to save you,” Olive said.

  All heads turned as they heard hoof beats coming hard. Jacob grabbed the shotgun and went out the door. When Olive heard Jack Steele’s voice she breathed a sigh of relief. The two men talked softly on the porch until Jacob came back inside. “Jack heard the shots and he’s going to get Beth to see to you, Olive.”

  * * *

  Olive awoke from a fitful dream to find Beth Steele’s gentle hand on her face. “Sit up for me if you can, Olive. I want to wrap your ribs and put your nightgown on you.”

  “Where are the children and Jacob?” Olive asked.

  “Out in the barn.”

  Olive touched her chin lightly and grimaced in pain. She looked up as the other woman stared at her kindly. Olive’s lip began to tremble and she gave in, away from all other eyes but this woman, to the fear still trapped in her throat. As she sobbed, Beth held her and rocked.

  “The bruises will heal, Olive. You’ll be as good as new in a week.”

  “That’s not it, Beth,” Olive admitted. “My appearance has never meant much to me. It’s just . . .”

  There was silence in the small cabin until Beth asked, “Just what, Olive?”

  “I was terrified,” Olive said as she looked Beth in the eye. “Not for myself, but if he had taken or hurt Mary or Peg or Mark, I don’t know what I would have done. I’ve never been so afraid in my life,” Olive finished in a whisper.

  Beth’s eyes softened. “Mother’s will do anything, anything for their children. Including laying down their life. I know. I have two children of my own.”

  Olive lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Peg and Mark aren’t my children. Even Mary and John aren’t mine. But even still,” Olive ended quietly and turned to face Beth.

  Beth tilted her head. “You’re more a mother than Mary and John ever had. And you can’t tell me that Peg and Luke haven’t warmed to you. I saw it at the picnic. I see it in their eyes today. They’re worried about you, they love you.”

  Olive’s vision of Beth suddenly swam and her lip trembled, yet again. “Oh, God, Beth, how will I leave them. I love them, too. I never knew, never expected things to turn out the way they have.”

  “Jacob will miss you as well,” Beth said.

  Olive turned her head. “I don’t think so.” She looked at her hanky and smiled ruefully. “I would have never dreamed when I arrived, I’d end up living here. Getting to know Jacob and his children. But we’re adults, with responsibilities and certainly different ways. The age difference alone has made things awkward. He has been kind, though.”

  “Oh, Olive,” Beth said. “A man being kind doesn’t need held back from going to beat Jeb Davis within an inch of his life. Jacob feels more than that.”

  “I
believe Mr. Butler appreciates the things I’ve done with the children. He would be grateful,” Olive said.

  Beth chuckled. “Yes, I suppose he is grateful. Now let me get you changed.”

  Beth had Olive propped up and in her nightgown when she heard pounding outside. “What’s going on?” Olive asked and held her aching head.

  “I don’t know,” Beth said and leaned over the sink to see outside.

  “Mr. Butler? What are you doing? Mr. Butler?” Olive called out.

  A moment went by until Olive saw Jacob’s large frame fill the doorway.

  “Do you need something, Olive?” he asked.

  “Mr. Butler, what are you doing? It sounds as though the house is coming down,” Olive said.

  “Framing the back stoop,” he replied.

  Olive waited for him to continue. “Why?”

  “There’s a floor already there,” Jacob said.

  Olive’s lids closed slowly. Certainly this last month had taught her patience. “I know there’s a floor there. Why are you framing it?”

  “Adding a bedroom for you and the girls.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she began.

  “You aren’t staying in this house alone at night, anymore.”

  “But, Mr. Butler.”

  “No, buts, about it.”

  Olive pursed her lips and winced in pain. Jacob had the look about him that meant no amount of arguing would change his mind. Olive tried to take a deep breath and leaned back onto the pillows.

  Beth listened to Jacob and Olive bicker and turned to Mary. “I brought dinner for tonight, Mary. But tomorrow, you’ll have to see to the cooking. Your Aunt Olive will be in no shape to feed you.”

  Jacob stopped at the door and turned back to the women. “Nothing new there, Mary.”

  Olive rolled her eyes at his retreating figure. “He’s right of course. I don’t know how to do many of the tasks that are required. But it certainly was ungentlemanly of him to point out my flaws so vividly.” She watched Mary bite her lip and Beth smile.

  “He’s teasing you, Olive,” Beth said with a giggle.

  “No, he’s right. Mary was teaching me how to do laundry when we had a visitor,” Olive said. “I suppose, we’ll have to begin again with that Mary.”

  “I got it all hung,” the girl said.

  “See Beth. We wouldn’t eat or have clean clothes if it wasn’t for Mary,” Olive said and smiled. “Come sit beside me Mary. You’ve had a long day.”

  The girl sat down tentatively and Olive touched her back. Mary looked at her and Olive smiled and pulled the child to her shoulder. Olive held Mary tightly and kissed her dark hair. She had been so close today to losing this precious, brave child. She had been warned by the sheriff about Jeb Davis and paid scant mind to it. She had seen Mary’s reaction to the mention of her mother’s family and dismissed it. Olive’s own stubbornness had put Mary and Peg in danger. The two of them lay together quietly entwined and Olive felt her eyes close, even with the pounding and shouting of the men and children.

  Olive awoke slowly, hearing the shouted whispers of the children and Jacob’s attempts to shush them. She smiled as much as her mouth would allow and took a deep breath to ease the pain in her side. They were trying so hard to be quiet that Olive could not disappoint them and kept her eyes closed. One at a time, she felt a kiss from each of the children and heard Mark’s cries slow as Jacob rocked him to sleep.

  Olive lay still and listened to Jacob inch around the room. She felt the bed tilt and his hands gently pull her hair from under her back and arms. Olive kept her eyes closed and reveled in the feel of his hands as they sorted through her tangled hair. Is it a sin to let this man, not a husband, caress her like this? Would he know she didn’t sleep? Would he do it anyway? Did she care? Olive felt the first tentative strokes of the brush and felt sure she had died a divine death and gone straight to her maker. Olive relaxed her neck and shoulders with Jacob’s ministrations and succumbed willingly, deceitfully to his strong hands.

  * * *

  Jacob sat in the rocker with Mark, pumping the floor and watched Olive and the children sleep. His anger, barely contained today, had drifted to fear and he found himself looking from one sleepy face to another, as if to reassure himself all were under his roof. Jacob swallowed as he saw himself running to the house and all the horrible images that went through his head.

  But the very real vision of Olive laying, battered and bruised on his porch would not go away. Jacob lay Mark down in his crib and turned to Olive. Her lip was cut wide and swollen and he didn’t know if he wanted to be with Olive the first time she looked in the mirror. Not that she was vain, but still, Jacob imagined, no woman would want to see herself like this. Olive’s hair was always pulled back tight and neat and her clothes clean. Jacob looked at her hair, her crowning glory in her head, he supposed and thought of how many years had it been that Olive had brushed the burnished mass faithfully before bed.

  Jacob found her brush on the shelf and sat gingerly on the side of the bed. She was awake, he knew, but she had chosen not to face him. From the look on her face she was enjoying it. He brushed the long strands flat on the pillow above her head, and had his own secret victory. To touch this hair on the sheets of a bed as if they had awoken together or having watched her fall asleep. He brushed through methodically; working knots out and lying combed handfuls aside.

  Olive and his relationship to her was more a puzzle than he had ever known. He and Margaret had been simple, so suited, so meant to unite that he had never felt questions. They just were and would still be if she hadn’t been taken from him. But what was Olive to him? He admired her, he knew. A woman from her background, charging forward to save a niece and nephew she had never met. And she was a smart one. Olive figured out what made these children tick in no time. She loved them all and they loved her gifts of discipline and patience. But most of all, Jacob respected her courage, in the face of her shattered dreams and in the threat of real danger. He finished brushing, reluctant to quit, and placed the ivory backed brush on her valise.

  * * *

  The May morning came bright and crisp and clear through the window as Olive watched the children begin to stir. She was sore from head to toe and was wondering how she would get out of bed that day. Jacob started coffee and Jack arrived soon after the chickens were fed and the cow milked. The pounding began again and the children seemed to have forgotten the previous day’s horrible scene. Peg helped Olive wash her face and hands and she felt truly the invalid. Everyone ran to do her bidding and she sat amidst the chaos, propped up, only to watch. A wagon rolled in the yard and Olive heard the sheriff call to Jacob and Jack.

  “Good morning, Miss Wilkins,” the sheriff said as he came in the house and doffed his hat.

  “Good morning sheriff. What brings you this way so early?” Olive asked.

  “Few things. First I heard you had an unwanted visitor yesterday.”

  “Yes, we did,” Olive replied and noticed Jacob had ceased his pounding to lean against the doorway. “I should have heeded your warning, sheriff.”

  “What happened?” the sheriff asked.

  Olive retold the tale and the room grew somber. The sheriff asked Mary a few question and she replied quietly.

  “I hate the idea of you and the children facing that man alone, Miss Wilkins. How are you feeling? I should’ve asked first, I suppose,” the sheriff said and pulled a chair beside Olive’s bed.

  “I’ll be fine sheriff . . .”

  “They weren’t alone,” Jacob interrupted.

  The sheriff sat back in his chair and tilted his hat back. “Well, I don’t think Miss Wilkins would be sitting here with her mouth split open if she hadn’t been alone.”

  “I was plowing. Mary shot the gun and I came,” Jacob said.

  Olive watched curiously as the two men stared each other down. “I’m sure you have all the information you need sheriff. You said a few things, what else brings you out this morning?”


  “A crate and a letter came for you on the train.” He stood and went outside and motioned Jacob to follow. The two men carried the wooden box back in the house and the sheriff handed her a letter. Theda had written and Olive could hardly wait to read her dear friend’s reaction. She held the envelope, fine paper, with Theda’s distinctive script boldly etching her name. Olive looked up, smiling with the thought and saw the sheriff, hat in hand, holding a bunch of flowers.

  “These are for you, Miss Wilkins. I hope they brighten your day while you’re bedridden,” he said and swallowed.

  Olive knew her face colored and she could not stop a shy and silly smile from forming on her face. “Why sheriff, how thoughtful. And tulips, yet.”

  The sheriff grinned and turned his hat in his hand. “I grow them out back of the jail. I’m a bit of a gardener.”

  “How wonderful. I have a beautiful garden at home. I would have never suspected you would have been interested in flowers.”

  “Pretty flowers for a pretty lady.”

  “Really, sheriff,” Olive said. “Thank you so much.”

  “You take care, Miss Wilkins. I’ll be back in a few days to check on you, if you don’t mind,” the sheriff said as he stood.

  Olive opened her mouth but Jacob spoke sooner.

  “She’ll be fine. I’ll look after her.”

  “Please do stop back and visit, sheriff,” Olive said.

  “I’ll be going then. Miss Wilkins. Children. Jacob,” the sheriff said.

  Jacob didn’t reply but stood instead at the door until Olive heard the wagon pull from the yard. The children were clamoring over the crate and Jacob dragged it close to Olive’s bed.

  “Do you know what it is?” Mary asked.

  “Yes,” Olive replied with a laugh.

  “What is it?’ Luke shouted.

  “My sewing machine.”

  “What?” Luke asked.

  “A machine that sews. I bought it last year. It stitches in half the time I can by hand,” Olive said.

  The boys lost interest quickly, but Mary and Peg edged closer. “I ain’t never heard of such a thing,” Mary said. She saw Olive’s eyebrows raise and began again. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”