by Carré White
“I won’t…die…”
“You take this, Paulina. Drink some more, sweetheart.” He held the cup to my lips. “There you go. Little, baby sips. That’s good.”
“You…should…eat.”
“I will. Tomorrow night, when you’re all better, you’ll be eatin’ with me.”
“I’d…like…that.”
“And the night after that and so on and so forth…until we’re sittin’ there old and gray. Did I forget to mention the dozen grandchildren stumblin’ over our feet and a cat that farts?”
“That’s…a long…supper.” I wanted to laugh, but it came out sounding like a strangled gasp.
“You take it easy there.”
I watched him eat, wishing I were well enough to have food. It smelled delicious, a hint of brown gravy teasing me. A short while later, another cup of water was pressed to my lips, the sweetly salty flavor sliding down my throat. I hadn’t felt like throwing up again, which was a relief, but the medicinal concoction had left a salty aftertaste.
“How is she?” asked Mary, who poked her head in the tent.
“Still poor.”
“I’m going to make her chicken soup.”
“That’d be a splendid idea, Mary, thank you.”
There was a lamp at our feet, the flickering light offering minimal illumination. The sounds of the camp outside were subdued, as others had become sick today and those who were well worried that they might fall ill. When Mary returned, Samuel propped me up against several pillows, bringing the warm broth to my lips. Hunger gnawed at me, my belly protesting loudly, wanting nourishment.
“Let’s hope this stays down.”
“Give it to her slowly.”
I ate as much as I was able, and, after several spoonfuls, I needed to rest. Samuel placed his arm around me, drawing me near.
“You haven’t been sick in a while.”
“Um…um…”
“You better pull through.”
“I’ll try.” I glanced at him, admiring the planes of his face, the line of his jaw. “You’re the most handsome man…I’ve ever seen.”
He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin, which felt clammy. “You’ve still got the fever. You’re delirious.”
“No, I’m not.”
“It’s the sickness talking.”
“I’d like to grow…old with you…too…and have…grandchildren…at my feet.”
“Then you better get better.”
“I will.”
He fed me more broth, until I could hardly keep my eyes open, and then several times during the night he had me drink the sugary, salty concoction. We slept on and off, in each other’s arms. As the dim light of morning peeked through a slit in the tarp, I drifted to sleep, dreaming of lace cookies, trifle, and Christmas day turkey with all the fixings.
Chapter Nine
Male voices woke me. “It’s hardly proper that you were with Ms. Hoffman all night, sir.”
“Is it a crime to take care of a sick person?”
“Mrs. Chandler could’ve watched over her. You had no business being alone with that young woman.” I recognized the voice of Jeremiah Kelley, the missionary preacher. “It’s a breach of etiquette.”
“So no good deed goes unpunished, eh?”
“Unmarried persons should not be alone together in such a manner.”
“Well, she was knocking on death’s door, reverend. I was more worried about her health than her reputation.”
“How is the patient today?”
“I really don’t know. She hasn’t woken yet, and I’m too busy arguing with you to check on her.”
“What are your intensions towards this young woman?”
“It’s seven in the mornin’, and I got a camp full of sick people. We’re supposed to be hittin’ the road in an hour. Don’t you think we have more important things to worry about?”
“We do, but a woman’s reputation is a delicate matter. Once there’s been a breach…it’s nearly impossible to repair.”
“Mister, if you weren’t a man of the cloth I would—”
“Now then,” said Mary. “Let’s settle down. Our main concern is Paulina and getting her well. You’re wasting valuable time arguing over this issue.”
“From that non-answer, I can assume that you will not do what’s right by this woman.”
“What exactly are you sayin’? Nursing her to health isn’t right? Should I let her die?”
“Mrs. Chandler could’ve taken care of Ms. Hoffman, and you know it.”
“I gotta see if Paulina’s awake,” he muttered. “I don’t have time for this.”
“I will have an answer.”
“Good grief.”
“Now.”
“You want me to marry her?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m not in the habit of marrying corpses, reverend.”
“I’ve prayed significantly for her recovery, and she will recover. What do you intend to do once this happens?”
“Well, I reckon I’ll do it, if that would make you happy.”
“Yes. Excellent.”
“You mind if she gets better first, or do you want me to drag her out here right now, this very minute?”
Laughter filled the air. “Oh, you two are wildly entertaining, but I have to check on Paulina. And you, Mr. Tucker, have made the right decision. Anyone can see you’re enamored of her.” The tent opened, and Mary appeared. “Oh, you’re awake. How do you feel?”
“Terrible.”
“You need the bucket?”
I struggled to sit up. “I don’t think so.”
“How about the privy?”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s get you up.” She held my arm, and I came to my knees. “That’s good. You’re looking a might better today. You must’ve kept enough fluids down.”
“He made me drink all night long.”
She moved hair out of my eyes. “He’s in love with you, honey. Anyone can see that.”
“I heard what the preacher said, but…I don’t want to force him to marry me.”
“Nonsense. He just needed a little push in the right direction. I think it’s a good match.”
Samuel appeared then, his brow furrowed. “How is she?”
“Better.”
He reached for my arm, pulling me to him. Our eyes met. “You don’t have to marry me, Sam. I…heard what Jeremiah Kelley said.”
“Don’t worry about that right now. We gotta get you up and runnin’, and then I gotta take down the tent. I’ve got a schedule to maintain. People are countin’ on me to keep to it.”
“I understand.”
“I can take it from here,” said Mary, as we stood before the tent. The reverend had disappeared. “I know you’re a busy man, Samuel. You’ve got others to take care of.”
“We got a burial, I’m afraid. Penny Holmes didn’t make it.”
“Oh, no, how dreadful.”
“I don’t want another fatality from this sickness, but it’s a stubborn bitch, Mrs. Chandler. Pardon my language.” His eyes fell on me; the look was concerned. “You’re not completely out of the woods yet. We’ll see if you can keep your breakfast down. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to put this tent away.”
I touched his arm. “Thank you, Sam. I truly appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“You get better, so I can put a ring on that pretty little finger of yours, sweetheart.” He grinned. “That’ll be repayment enough.” He disappeared inside the tent.
Mrs. Chandler and I walked slowly to the latrine; each step took an enormous amount of effort. “I’m so weak.”
“You need more fluid. I’ve got chicken broth heating up right now. You can have as much of it as you want.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
An hour later, I was seated within the wagon with piles of bedding around me. I’d managed to keep breakfast from reappearing, but I still f
elt less than well, dreaming of when I could eat something more substantial than broth. The Chandlers sat before me, the wagon swaying gently from side to side, while the first of many miles rolled by. At lunchtime, I managed to exit on my own, wandering slowly towards a campfire.
“It’s hot today.”
“Yes, my dear.” She handed me a cup. “That special drink.”
I made a face. “Oh, no, please.”
“Drink it anyway.”
I sighed, but then I remembered how lucky I was that I had come through a sickness that had taken the life of one of the travelers. Others were ill too, being nursed with the same concoction. The plate was filled with beans and bread, which I dunked in chicken broth. My stomach was full for the first time in more than two days, and it felt heavenly.
Once I had situated myself within the wagon, we trundled onward, while I slept on and off. It had been hours since I had seen Samuel, and I was preparing for bed before he appeared, standing before me with his hands in his pockets.
“You’ve done well.”
“I only recovered. I’ve done nothing really.”
“You look better.”
“Where have you been?”
“Tending to people. I’m worried about the Hoffsteaders. I don’t know if they’re gonna make it.”
“Are they drinking that concoction?”
“Yes, but they’ve got it worse than you had. They can’t keep anything down, even a teaspoonful.”
“I’m sorry for them.”
“You going to bed?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me, his expression regretful. “I wish I had an excuse to be with you again.” A hint of a smile appeared.
“Oh, Sam.” I hugged him, not caring that several people observed us from a distance. “I want to be healthy the next time…we’re together all night long.”
“Now that’s a loaded statement.” His arms closed around me.
“I heard what you said to the preacher this morning.”
“And I gotta honor my word now, especially with all the witnesses.”
“Only if you really want to. I won’t force someone to marry me.”
“I’m thinking about doing it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“You’re well enough to stand for ten minutes, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can get through the ceremony.”
“That’s terrible,” I laughed. “What a way to get married.”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
He had a point. I wanted to be near him tonight and every other night, but the camp would frown upon such behavior. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“You’ll marry a wretch like me?”
“I shouldn’t. I don’t know the first thing about you. You might be a horrible husband, for all I know.”
He touched my face. “I didn’t need a lecture to propose to you. I would’ve done it anyhow.”
That was a surprise. “Really?”
“Yes.” He got down on one knee, glancing up at me. “Ms. Hoffman, will you marry me?”
“I suppose I should, seeing my reputation is in ruins.”
“That’s a good enough answer.” He sprang to his feet, chuckling, hugging me.
“Oh, my goodness.” I found his sense of humor incredibly appealing.
The people that had been watching began to clap. Shouts rang out. “Make an honest woman outta her!”
“Congratulations, Sam! She’s the prettiest girl in camp.”
“You lucky dog!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Pipe down, you numbskulls.” He smiled at me. “I won’t keep you. You need your rest. You gotta make it through the ceremony tomorrow.”
“When are we doing this?”
“How about at lunch time.”
“Oh, goodness. I don’t have anything clean to wear besides a black dress. What bride wears a black dress?”
“My bride. You could wear a burlap sack for all I care. Once we’re settled, we’ll have another ceremony, only this time, in a church.”
He’d brought up an important issue, something we hadn’t even discussed yet. “Where will we live?”
“You’re good and set on Denver City?”
I nodded. “I want to be near my sister.”
His look was thoughtful. “I had half a mind to settle in California, but…I could consider somethin’ else. If it’s important for you to be close to family, then Kansas Territory might do.”
“It probably won’t be Kansas Territory for long.”
“You’re right about that. It’s growing by leaps and bounds.”
The fact that he would even consider my feelings about where I wanted to live was heartening. I’d known men who would only seek their own council on things, not caring at all about anyone else’s opinion. Samuel possessed a marvelous sense of humor, and he was open to compromise. From what I had seen of my parent’s lives together, this was an important component to marital harmony.
“You get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.” I stared at him, wishing he would kiss me, but he grinned instead, touching my face. “There’ll be plenty of time for that. Good night, Paulina.”
“Good night.”
I crawled into the tent, lying on the bedding, while saying my prayers. The sounds of camp echoed, as someone laughed in the distance. The miners had run out of alcohol, and they had gotten quieter as a result. In the morning I woke, knowing that, after today, my life would never be the same again. Still weak from the illness, I managed to eat fried cake with honey, my tummy protesting, but, thankfully, I wasn’t sick afterwards.
“So, I hear something momentous is happening today,” said Mary with a huge smile on her face.
“Yes, I’m getting married.”
“I knew that man would do what’s right. He’s a fine person. He’ll make a good husband.”
“He’s…wonderful.”
She bustled around the cooking fire. “You’ll do well together. You have similar temperaments.”
“I just wish we didn’t have to separate. He’s going to California.”
“It’s his job, Paulina. He’ll be back for you, or you could decide to continue with him.”
“I can’t. I promised my sister I’d bring her dishes to her, and I want to live near family. There’s a chance my other sisters might come this way too in the future. We’re hoping my parents will also.”
“Could be. Going west is all the rage at the moment.”
“Louisa is the oldest. She’s going to college in Troy, and Fanny’s still in school, but, maybe one day, they’ll come.”
“I bet once all you girls are out here, your parents will sell up and join you. There’s nothing like wanting to be near grandbabies for inducement.”
“Does your daughter have children?”
She shook her head. “The poor dear never was able to have them. They’ve decided to live without. They own a bed and breakfast. That business keeps them more than busy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She shrugged. “It happens. Not everybody is blessed with babies.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways. Maybe they’ll be blessed later in life with a child. You never know what will happen.”
“That is true.”
“I better pack my things. We’ll be leaving soon.”
Animals were yoked to wagons. Crockery was put away. A sense of excitement gripped me, not only because I had survived cholera, but I would be a married woman by lunchtime. This was not how I had anticipated things would occur, knowing how improper a nonexistent engagement was. However, this was the wild, untamed west, and the dictates of society were impractical.
Once seated in the wagon, I realized I had not seen Samuel yet, and, perhaps, that was on purpose. It was unlucky for bride and groom to meet before the ceremony. Either that or he had changed his mind. An unpleasant feeling went through me at that thought. I would be broken-hearted, i
f he had decided not to marry me. I know I wasn’t the only one who felt this strange and wonderful connection. It had been there from the first, growing over the last few weeks. On my lowest days, thinking about Samuel had given me the strength I needed to make it through the long hours. He had taken care of me when I had been sick, and I owed him my life. I knew that, if it had not been for him and his healing concoction, I would certainly have died. Others would have died as well, had it not been for his knowledge of the illness.
We were far from out of the woods where cholera was concerned. More became sick every day. It tempered my joy, because in the midst of my happiness…others suffered.
Chapter Ten
I’d never been so impatient; the slowness of our progress, the steady, yet repetitive plodding of the oxen had given me a case of the nerves. Every hour that passed, my fate drew nearer, my nuptials were only minutes away. As the caravan slowed, my heart began to race. We were stopping for lunch!
“Well, my dear,” said Abner. “Are you ready to become a bride?”
“Yes, sir. I am.” I would set aside the fact that I was still incredibly weak from my illness, not having walked at all today. My dress hung on me like a loose curtain, the corset hardly effective, as it was too big for my frame.
The wagon halted a moment later, the oxen lowering their heads to eat tall, lush grass. “There we are. You might want to get yourself ready,” said Mary. “Have you decided what you’ll wear?”
“I haven’t worn the black dress yet. It’s not my first choice for a bridal gown, but I don’t have anything else suitable.”
“That’s fine. I’ll pick some wild flowers to gussy up your hair.”
“Thank you, Mary.” I climbed over the wooden seat, entering the interior of the wagon, searching through my things for the dress in question. I made quick work of changing, leaving my shift and pantalets on, while tossing the dress over my head. It was far too lose on me as well, but it couldn’t be helped. When I emerged, Mary approached with a handful of small white flowers. “Those are pretty.”
“Let’s do something with that hair.”
“Are you sure there’ll be a ceremony? I haven’t seen Samuel all day.”
“That’s because it’s unlucky. I talked to the preacher. The ceremony begins in ten minutes.”