Bright Morning Star

by J. R. Biery

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  Bonnie handed her friend a tin plate with gravy and biscuits and the last cup of coffee. She leaned to look down the large brim into her friends' sparkling blue eyes.

  “Only you could make a simple traveling dress look so fashionable.”

  “You don’t think it’s too plain,” Claire leaned closer to whisper. “I’ve given up the corset until we reach Ogden.”

  “No one could tell, you’ve such a tiny waist anyway. I like it, but can you see out of that big funnel?”

  “Of course, if I take my time. You know how fair I am, I can’t risk burning up under the blazing sun. Besides, Mother and I made them to match.”

  Claire sat to quickly crumble the first biscuit and spoon it up with the gravy.

  Bonnie smiled and shook her head. Today looked to be as fair as the day before. Everywhere one looked, it was green. The oxen lowed as they grazed the lush grass and the three children ran about, the twins teasing Mary Anne for a minute with a pretend snake. Father Wimberley called for the twins to go see Claire, and then help water the stock.

  Claire finished the last bite of biscuit and handed her friend her plate. She stood and took a gulp of the strong brew, almost missing her mouth because of the edge of the big bonnet. Irritated, she loosened the string and let it fall to hang down her back.

  Mary Anne ran up beside her and copied Claire’s stiff pose. Claire took a second swallow, and handed the little girl, her cup to hold, as she dealt with the boys. Almost twelve, the lads were tall and sturdy, with light brown hair and teasing blue eyes. Like their sisters, they were only half-Irish, but that was the half always thinking up mischief.

  Claire waited until the pink cheeked boys began to stumble out an apology. “I think you ought to kneel, lads, if you’re truly sorry.”

  They looked at each other and then up into the guileless eyes of Claire. Father Wimberley yelled something in their direction, and both boys dropped to their knees.

  Again she heard the words “We’re sorry, Aunt Claire.”

  “For what are you sorry boys?” she let her voice quaver, remembering her fright and embarrassment the night before. “For terrifying me half to death. For putting a serpent into my bed and then laughing at my terror. For making me run screaming into the night half-dressed.”

  The boys made the mistake of looking at each other, their lips half-curled in memory of their successful prank. Quickly, before they could spring away, Claire pulled out her bottle and sprayed both with the heavy floral scent.

  Tom moved first, falling backward as he did. Claire doused him good. As Jim danced out of reach she yelled for reinforcements. Laughing, Mary Anne clapped and giggled in the background, Claire laughed when Henry Lampton blocked Jim’s escape. More carefully, trying to make sure she only got her scent on the boy, she squirted him even more.

  Mary Anne teased, “Oh, but boys you do smell pretty.”

  The twins looked like they were going to take their outrage out on their little sister.

  Henry released the boy and just stood staring at Claire as she laughed at both of them. Bonnie moved up to grab each lad by the scruff of the neck before they could reach Mary Anne.

  “Aw, gee, you didn’t have to soak our clothes, Aunt Claire. Now the oxen will run when we get near.”

  “Good, we’ll make better time.” Bonnie said, as she gave each lad a shake and a sound swat before turning them toward the cattle.

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  Father Wimberley stood laughing, pretending to switch the boys as they herded the oxen down to the river.

  He let the lads grumble a little more, then said. “That’s a lesson you’d better learn now. You’d best never try to trick or harm a woman.”

  They started to argue, then both grew quiet. “What do you mean, they’ll all gang up on you?” Jim asked.

  Tom swatted at some of the gnats lying low on the river bank, Jim was doing the same. They let the first yoked animals step into the water and Father Wimberley knelt and came up with a handful of mud for each of them.

  “There, best rub that around on your neck and ears, so the bugs don’t eat you alive today. They might think you’re some kind of new, two-legged posie.”

  Each boy smelled the muck and then carefully applied it to their faces and the rest of their exposed skin. Mr. Wimberley yelled and the first pair of oxen splashed back onto the bank to graze while another set took their place.

  “Then what did you mean?” Tom asked.

  “I mean a woman has hundreds of ways to get you back, and they always will. A sweet girl, like our Claire, she might look like she’s going to cry, then spray you with a little perfume. A mean one, might try to hurt you. An angry one, might just nag you to death.” He didn’t have to say like Bella. “Another might burn all your food, or put starch in your underwear. There’s a lot more ways, but you’ll learn those when you’re a little older. No, the reason you better treat women like ladies and show them respect is it’s dangerous not to. Women will always use some of their wily ways against you, if you don’t treat them right.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  There was a lot of arguing from the Lambton’s wagon each evening, then a lot of crying and pleading from Bella. Everyone looked uncomfortable around the battling couple, waiting for the storm to pass. Nearly two weeks after leaving Boston, Henry shared what was upsetting his wife.

  “Bella wanted to stop in New Rochelle seeing her parents. She’s afraid she might never get to see them again if we don’t stop now. But it will mean about a four hour delay in our trek across country, and the trip’s long enough. I’ve tried to convince her it’s not fair to the group, but Bella doesn’t care about inconveniencing everyone else.”

  The Wimberleys stared at him in disbelief. Claire felt a little tremble in her own heart. What if it were her parents? What if it were her last chance for a kiss or hug from them? Henry was still talking.

  “Well, I’ve agreed to stop. We’ll just keep moving when you make camp. And then the next morning, we’ll hustle. Try to catch up with you in the next day or two,” he said.

  Robert Wimberley looked speechless for a moment, then shook his head. “No need for all that. We’ll stick together. Sleeping with the wagons, we can go anywhere. Tell Bella we’re happy to stop. Looking forward to meeting her parents.”

  The change in Bella was remarkable. The next day she was all smiles, rushing to help the other women with the cooking, fussing over what she should wear for the visit. Claire could not remember when the woman had looked happier or prettier. Even the first day of their big sale at the old store had not affected her as much.

  The happier Bella became, the more attentive and kindly Henry treated her. After seeing nothing but sparring between the couple before, Claire felt strangely betrayed by the sudden peace between them.

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  Claire sat in her usual position on the wagon, behind the oxen and their smelly tails. She had her magazines on the bench beside her, but flipped through them restlessly.

  Henry Lambton emerged from the woods, something held behind his back. Claire swiveled on the padded bench to look as soon as he walked past. When she saw he clutched a fistful of wild Iris, their purple blooms furled like organza over their blade-like leaves, her heart sank. This time she recognized it as jealousy.

  By now it was a familiar ache. When she first went to work for the Lambtons, she had found Henry to be the first person who valued the things that she did. When she talked about fashion, everyone else tuned her out. Henry was interested in all things sartorial and fashionable. He appreciated her ideas for marketing their goods and listened when she suggested the store hold a sale. He asked for her advice when placing orders and pricing goods.

  She had enjoyed this respect for her intelligence. Growing up being called goose, even by her best friends, it was a welcome change. Other than that, she thought nothing about Henry. He was nice, handsome, and well-mannered. But he was married.

  True, Bella Lambton was a col
d, angry woman. He deserved someone better, someone who respected and cared for him. Claire remembered the first time she realized she might have feelings for another woman’s husband.

  As always, it was one of her friend who pointed it out to her. The Lambtons had a terrible row in the store and Bonnie had handed little Barney off to Claire to tend while she went up front to break up the fight.

  Later, Bonnie had laughed when Claire looked offended. “I had no choice. I didn’t want my bosses to get into a donnybrook in the front of the store. Who would pay us then?”

  Claire agreed. “They were having a terrible fight, weren’t they?”

  “Aye, besides, I knew you worked wonders with children,” Bonnie said.

  Claire looked surprised. She had thought it was Bonnie, who had the way with children, not her. Slowly she had admitted. “I’m just upset. If they want to argue about traveling west, why do it when we’re present? They had all night and morning without us.”

  “It sounds like he was telling you their plans before he’d talked them over with her. It would make any woman mad, even you.”

  “Those things she said about me, about Henry wanting to follow me. It’s not true, there’s nothing between us. He has never shown any interest in me by word or action.”

  “You sound unsure if that’s good or bad? Have you taken a fancy to her husband?”

  Claire had stomped off and ignored her friend the rest of the way home, but all night she had gone over her reactions.

  The next morning she had decided to skip work and never see him again. Although she loved working in the lovely little boutique, she was determined to quit.

  Then Bonnie had once again given her a talk. Bonnie was in a race to go say goodbye to her brothers, Ian and Sean. As usual, she was telling Claire what to do. She had made Claire see she had a duty to her parents. Her father was counting on Henry to buy a pair of wagons and join them on the trek west. Besides, if she stayed home to cry, Bella would know she had been right.

  Ever since that day, she had prayed that it was not so, and done all in her power to avoid the man. But on a wagon train headed west, with miles and days to go along together, it was difficult. In a party of ten people, there was no way to ignore or avoid the man entirely.

  She was careful. There had been no more long discussions about fashion. Although he would occasionally ask her opinion and she would give it. She made sure they were with the rest of the group when they talked. Claire always sat beside her parents while he sat beside Bella, or on a separate bench with the twins.

  At night, she read the Bible to Mary Anne and tried to keep her thoughts pure. It worked, until she would see him the next day, struggling with his team, and he would give her his warm friendly smile. She couldn’t help her feelings, she would smile back. Honestly, she smiled at everyone. But then she wondered what it would be like to kiss such a handsome man. Would his mustache tickle? That was when she would worry her beads and pray.

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  Mary Anne repeated her name. Claire shook her head and looked down, as the nimble girl timed the wheel’s turn and scampered up onto the seat beside her. Claire managed to move the magazines in time.

  “What is it poppet? Did you finally find a snake of your own?”

  Mary Anne shook her head, her eyes suddenly very big. “No, Father Wimberley warned me that the ones from here west are poisonous. There’s rattlesnakes, and copperheads, and moccasins, and…cobras, or some more like that, I don’t remember them all. I don’t dare look any more.”

  Claire shuddered and extended her arm to pull the shivering little girl closer. “Thank goodness for that. What is it than, that you’ve got behind your back?”

  Mary Anne brought the flower out triumphantly and waved it at Claire. For a moment, Claire felt as pierced as if she had jabbed her with one of the blade-like leaves. Closing her eyes for a second, she managed to transform her reaction. She opened her eyes wide and exclaimed, “My how beautiful.”

  “I know, Bella gave it to me, and she told me its story.”

  Claire looked dubious. “Your flower has a story?”

  “Yes, the Iris is one of the bravest flowers. It pierces the soil in the spring, and unfurls its banner. That’s why many people call it a flag. That way all the other flowers and animals know it’s truly spring,” Mary Anne parroted Bella’s voice. Like all the McKinneys, the little girl could imitate anyone. Like Lynne, she had the same high, sweet voice. Claire could sing, at least a lot better than Bonnie. But she had never been able to sing the lead stanzas in church like Lynne.

  Claire rolled her eyes, reached out to touch the flower which was already looking wilted. “I’m not sure the daffodil would agree with Bella.”

  Mary Anne smiled and sighed, taking a deep scent of the purple petals. “I know, but she was so happy, I pretended to believe it was a real story, not one she just made up. She’s good at telling stories.”

  Claire gave the child another squeeze and brushed her hair back so she could stare into the serious gray eyes. For just a second, she imagined it was Lynne, not her little sister. They were both so much alike, serious, wise, and always kind. Claire gave her a soft kiss on the brow before releasing her. Minutes later, the little girl was gone. Doubtless, to share the flower and tale with Mother, maybe even her brothers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They arrived at the large home of Bella’s parents in New Rochelle early in the afternoon. Claire was shocked by the size and grandeur of the federal style brick mansion. There was a small stream across the land that divided the shoreline view from the house. In minutes, the wagons were parked diagonally, each open to the breeze off the water. Claire climbed down, looked across to where Henry was helping his wife down. In amazement she watched him step up on the side of the wagon to retrieve little Barney. He had always shown as much aversion for the boy as Claire felt.

  Claire stared, hoping the boy wouldn’t drool over Henry’s best suit, but he quickly handed the child to his wife. Claire welcomed Mary Anne’s small hand in hers as they walked behind their wagon and up to where her father and the boys were unhitching the first team of animals.

  An elderly couple appeared at the big door of the house, then ran down the steps and across the lawn to a small footbridge. Bella raced up her side and they met in the center on top over the stream.

  All the Wimberleys exchanged a warm glance at the heart-felt embraces. Claire couldn’t help it, she snuffled a little as she stepped into her mother’s arms. They folded Mary Anne between their full skirts.

  Henry walked onto the bridge and the three stopped their tearful hugs. Firmly, but politely Bella’s father shook her husband’s hand. From where they stood, they heard Bella’s mother. Her voice sounded just like Bella’s as they welcomed their daughter’s husband home.

  Nervously, as a last thought, Bella introduced her son, but his grandparents were moving away, talking enthusiastically to her about how glad they were to have company.

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  Finally, they were all inside. Bella’s parents had insisted that they use the bedrooms instead of the wagons. Father Wimberley and the boys refused the offer, insisting they’d rather be outside near the cattle. One of the maids rushed to show the girls their rooms before rushing back to the kitchen. Claire and Bonnie would share the room beside Bella and Henry. The Wimberleys had a room at the end of the hall. Mary Anne was going to share the bed with Claire and Bonnie.

  The children were in awe of all the beautiful things displayed throughout the house. No wonder Bella seemed driven. She was used to a different kind of life. Before, Claire had felt wealthy. Now she saw that they were merely middle-classed people. But Bella’s father seemed to have an instant rapport with Robert Wimberley. Perhaps it was that Father had owned a factory, or that he was still willing to set out across the country on an adventure. The two men had immediately disappeared into his library to talk about the western frontier.

  There was a little flurry as the cook rushed to prepa
re food for so many guests. Bonnie and Elizabeth Wimberley volunteered to help in the kitchen, but Mrs. Switzer refused to hear of it. Claire settled in the small parlor with the Lambton’s and Bella’s mother. She was glad when Bonnie and her Mother joined her, although Bonnie looked as though she were sitting on a pile of nettles instead of the lovely horse-hair stuffed sofa.

  Henry looked even more uncomfortable than Bonnie in the room full of women. Claire was disappointed that Father and Bella’s father had excluded him. After a few minutes of being ignored by his wife and mother-in-law, he excused himself to go keep an eye on the children. Of course he didn’t mean Barney. The small boy was sitting big eyed at the foot of his mother, looking from her to his grandmother and back. It made Claire smile, it was so clear he was working it out for himself.

  The two were remarkably similar. Claire knew she looked like her own mother. Well, Mother was a little older and plumper, and didn’t worry about her appearance as much, but their eyes, nose, and cheeks were similar. Bella and her mother were both raven haired and dark eyed. If anything, her mother was even darker than Bella, with eyes that were nearly black. Although Bella was a tiny, thin woman, her mother was even thinner. They were both all sharp angles and shrill voices and seemed to have forgotten everything and everyone but each other.

  Claire had to contain her sigh of relief when the cook finally had the maid call everyone into the dining room.

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  Perhaps the most impressive room to Claire was the large dining room. All the furniture was waxed and polished mahogany, highly carved and massive. It gleamed under the lit chandelier. The table was set for twelve with matching, gold rimmed china and gold lipped glassware. Remarkably, the glass-fronted, china cabinet still held more dishes. The food had been set out on a huge sideboard. It all smelled strange and delicious.