Would-Be Wilderness Wife

by Regina Scott

  “Maybe he just wants to go his own way,” Catherine said, remembering her brother with a pang. “Boys often do at his age.”

  “Well, I’m glad I’m not a boy, then.” Beth started for the back of the house. “I’m not abandoning my family when I turn eighteen.”

  Catherine hid a smile at the defiant tone, spoken with such authority by one who had seen so little of the world as yet. “You never know,” she told Beth as she joined the girl in the back room. “More and more professions are open to women, and Seattle will have many opportunities as it grows.”

  Standing by the iron tub, which seemed to serve for both laundry and bathing, Beth grinned at her. “At least you didn’t tell me it’s a woman’s duty to wed and have babies.” She stuck up her arm and pointed to the ceiling as if calling the Lord as a witness. “By golly, young lady, don’t you know that’s how the West was won?” She dropped her arm and giggled.

  “I would be the last one to tell you that you must marry,” Catherine assured her.

  “Then you’re the only one.” Beth sighed. “I may cause the West to be lost, but I’ve already had my fill of cooking and cleaning for a mess of men. Now, what do I have to do differently to keep us all healthy?”

  Catherine and Beth spent the rest of the day planning what needed to be done and setting it into motion. Drew and his brothers must have had chores or timber that needed cutting, for she saw nothing of them. She and Beth aired the ticks and washed the linens and hung them to dry on tree limbs around the clearing. They washed and hung out Mrs. Wallin’s nightgown and underthings, as well.

  Levi helped whenever they managed to catch him, and always with such a martyred expression on his face that Catherine wanted to send him to the corner. Unfortunately, he was past the age where such discipline worked, and she didn’t have the authority in the house for that sort of thing anyway. She was merely glad Mrs. Wallin and Beth were willing to listen to her suggestions.

  Beth had dinner on the stove, and the sun was dipping low when Levi brought in another load of firewood. Catherine had noticed a raised crib, sheltered under the eaves of the barn, where they must set the logs to cure.

  “Will the others be coming home soon?” Catherine asked as she helped Mrs. Wallin to the table. Her patient had felt well enough that Catherine was willing to allow her to eat with the family. Just the trip down the stairs had taken its toll, however, for Mrs. Wallin’s hands were shaking as she tried to sip from the cup of cool water Beth had handed her. Catherine couldn’t help remembering the strength of Drew’s arms as he’d carried her across the clearing last night. Surely he could help his mother back upstairs after dinner if needed.

  “Oh, we have to call them,” Beth said from behind the hearth. She hooked her stirring spoon over the edge of a steaming pot and headed for the back door.

  “They’re close enough to hear us?” Catherine asked with a frown.

  Levi grinned. “In a matter of speaking.”

  “It’s something their pa dreamed up,” Mrs. Wallin explained. “Levi, go fetch Miss Stanway the plates we use for dinner. None of that tin on my table.”

  Levi was returning with some delicate-looking pink-and-white-patterned dishes from the sideboard when a gun roared outside. Catherine nearly jumped out of her skin and found her own hands shaking as the gun barked again. Levi started laughing, but a look from his mother silenced him.

  “Two shots means you’re needed at home,” Mrs. Wallin told Catherine. “One shot means come a-running, now.”

  Beth poked her head in the door. “They should be here shortly.”

  She was right. Catherine had barely set the last china plate on the table when boots thudded across the boardwalk of the house. John was the first through the door. His face was smeared with dirt, his red plaid shirt darkened by sweat. His smile brightened when he saw their mother, and he went to peck her cheek before taking a seat farther down the table. James, an elegant silver-shot waistcoat wrapped around his lean frame, had a similar reaction, though he went to wash his hands before joining them.

  Simon approached his mother more cautiously. “Should you be up?” he asked her, his gaze seeking Catherine’s as if for confirmation.

  “Nurse Stanway approved it,” his mother assured him with a smile to Catherine. “Besides, having my family around me is the best medicine, if you ask me.”

  Catherine didn’t meet her gaze. It was the best medicine in her mind, too, although she thought her father might have once argued the matter.

  Drew was the last one through the door. His damp hair clung to his head as if he’d dunked it under the pump. His face was clean, though an evening’s stubble lay like gold across his jaw. He took his seat opposite his mother at the foot of the table, then bowed his head and asked the blessing. Male voices punctuated by Beth’s and Mrs. Wallin’s sopranos rumbled the amen.

  Catherine wasn’t sure what to expect from a family of rough loggers, but the Wallins were polite in their eating. Platters and plates passed in orderly fashion up and down the table and, except for an occasional lunge for a particular goody, everyone took turns serving themselves. There was ham, molasses clinging to the edges; mashed potatoes with salty gravy; biscuits and carrots. Though the fare was plain and simple, she couldn’t remember enjoying a meal more.

  As they ate, she monitored Mrs. Wallin. The lady partook sparingly, but her color was good and her eyes sparkled at the stories her sons were telling of their day in the timber.

  “John was nearly carried away today,” James reported, helping himself to another biscuit.

  John rolled his eyes, but his mother smiled. “Do tell.”

  “Was it a bear?” Levi demanded, fork stilled a moment in his hand. “I saw some fearful tracks down by the lake earlier.”

  “Not a bear,” James said. “And no cougar, either. It seems fair John surprised an owl up in the tree and the beast nearly took his head off. I figured that, seeing he was so wise, our friend the owl thought to carry him off for its own.”

  His brothers chuckled, and Mrs. Wallin shook her head at his jest. John leveled his spoon at his brother.

  “If you’d bother to open a book once in a while, you might be just as wise. Besides, at least I caught a few quills for writing later.” He nodded to Beth. “I’ll give you one.”

  “Thank you!” Beth beamed at him.

  The stories continued over a dried-apple pie that seemed to disappear in one bite. But Catherine noticed she wasn’t the only one watching her patient. Every time she glanced in Drew’s direction, he was eying his mother.

  Indeed, he didn’t enter into the teasing with his family. He seemed to stand aside, like a massive oak, shielding them from any harm. Although his protection was noble, she couldn’t help wondering whether it was a lonely vigil.

  “What about a game tonight?” Levi asked, slinging a leg over the bench where he, James and John were sitting.

  “Kitty in the Corner,” Beth said with a clap of her hands before reaching for the empty pie plate.

  Levi made a face, but Drew spoke up, hands cradling his tankard of cider. “We should have music tonight in honor of Ma coming down to dinner.”

  This time when Mrs. Wallin smiled, Catherine could see the effort it took. “Perhaps one tune. Simon, would you play for us?”

  Simon climbed off the opposite bench from beside Catherine. “Whatever you want, Ma. Just give me a moment to fetch my fiddle.”

  Drew stood and came around the table to lift his mother. “Miss Stanway,” he said, gazing at Catherine over his mother’s shoulder, “please join us. The rest of you, clear up.”

  With good-natured grumbling, his brothers rose to help.

  A short while later they were all seated around the hearth. Mrs. Wallin had settled so contentedly in the bentwood rocker that the dark wood seemed curved to her frame. Beth sat at
her feet, legs curled up under her gingham skirts. Levi, James and John lounged on the rug before the fire. Catherine felt like a queen seated on one of the ladder-backed chairs. Drew braced his shoulders against the log wall and crossed his arms over his chest. Catherine could feel his gaze roaming over his family; her cheeks warmed when she felt it resting on her.

  She told herself to focus on Simon, who had moved to stand before the fire. He held a well-polished violin and bow. Since arriving in Seattle, she’d heard a number of fellows scrape out a tune with many a protest from the instrument and prepared herself for a similar performance.

  “Something gentle, I think,” Mrs. Wallin said, leaning back in her chair. “Something to calm the spirit.”

  “Gentle it is.” Simon put his bow to the strings and out drifted a lilting song. The notes danced and skipped about the room, like young lambs in the spring. Catherine felt a smile forming.

  Mrs. Wallin was smiling, too, as were most of her sons. Beth had her lips pressed close together as if to keep from laughing, but Levi went so far as to snicker.

  Drew pushed off from the wall. “Very funny, Simon. Try something else.”

  Simon inclined his head, and the tune changed. It was slow, serious, nearly mournful. Beth frowned as if she had never heard it before. Mrs. Wallin sighed and seemed to hunch in her chair.

  The sounds spoke to Catherine of loves lost and friends parted, yet hope rising through it all, whispering of new life, fulfilled purpose. Around her, the men quieted and stilled. It was as if the very forest was holding its breath and listening.

  Simon urged one final note from his violin and lowered it.

  Mrs. Wallin managed a smile. “Well done, Simon. You surely inherited that skill from your father. He’d be proud.”

  Simon shrugged as he set down the instrument, but Catherine could see the faintest of pink in his lean cheeks.

  Mrs. Wallin rose then, saying good-night to her family. Catherine watched as each of her children went to kiss her or give her a hug, wishing her sweet dreams, promising they’d see her in the morning. The love glowed around them as surely as the light from the lamp. Catherine felt as if she stood in a circle of darkness.

  Then Drew looked her way, and the glow seemed to expand, to encourage her closer.

  She could feel her heart responding. Would it be so wrong to give in to its urging?

  Chapter Nine

  Drew moved to Catherine’s side. He didn’t think she knew what his brother had just done with his playing, but for a moment she had looked almost stricken. Once more, he’d wanted to gather her close. He had to settle for helping her instead.

  “Let me,” he said when she took his mother’s arm to assist Ma up the stairs. He lifted his mother and carried her up. Catherine and Beth followed.

  “That Simon,” Beth said with a tsk. “I hope he didn’t offend you, Miss Stanway.”

  Drew tensed, but Catherine’s voice held its usual composure. “Not at all,” she assured Beth as they reached the top of the stairs. “He plays beautifully.”

  Drew couldn’t help himself. “He ought to pay more attention to his selection than his tuning.” He set his mother down on the bed and stepped back to give her room to settle herself. He didn’t like her pallor. It was obvious to him she wasn’t as well as she wanted them to think.

  But despite her evident weariness, her eyes were bright. “Why, what do you mean, Andrew?” she asked innocently. “I like to hear the songs from the old country. I thought the wedding march and the christening song fine selections.”

  Fine selections for a man who was courting. He wasn’t. Drew bit back an answer and turned to Catherine before she could question his mother. “I’ll take first watch tonight.”

  She raised her head, as if he’d challenged her capabilities. “Nonsense. You’ve labored hard all day. My place is at your mother’s side.”

  So was his. But even as he opened his mouth to say as much, he felt weariness tugging at his sleeve, urging him to take the opportunity to rest.

  Beth settled the matter for him. “No, I’ll watch first,” she insisted. “I’m not sleepy. You and Drew have a lot to talk about, I’m sure.”

  There they went again. He could see the way his mother and sister exchanged glances. So could Catherine if the set of her mouth was any indication.

  Oh, no! He wasn’t about to let himself focus on her lips again tonight.

  “Miss Stanway has had a long day, as well,” he informed his sister. He turned to Catherine. “If you’re ready to retire, I’ll walk you to the cabin.”

  “Surely there’s no need, Mr. Wallin,” she protested. “I believe I know the way by now.”

  “Oh, but Miss Stanway,” Beth interrupted, “the moon’s out tonight. There’s nothing finer than a stroll in the moonlight.”

  Catherine did not seem to agree. Indeed, she was turning nearly as pale as Ma in the firelight.

  He put a hand to her elbow. “Are you all right?”

  She pulled away from his touch. “Fine. Just tired, as you noted. I’ll see if one of your brothers can walk me to the cabin. I’ll be expecting your knock after midnight, Miss Wallin.”

  She turned and descended the stairs as if a bear was at her heels. With his mother and sister glaring at him, he knew just how she felt.

  * * *

  John agreed to escort Catherine across to the other cabin. She felt as if she was running away, but the idea of strolling in the moonlight with Drew had raised such a longing inside her that she’d known retreat was her best choice. She was merely glad John showed no interest in the silvery light bathing them.

  “I find your approach to healthful living to be inspiring, Miss Stanway,” he said as they neared the cabin. “Especially the different foodstuffs you advised for Ma.” He opened the door and peered in. Did he think someone else had wandered into the house while she was out?

  “Perhaps you can suggest a book on the subject,” he said, returning his gaze to hers. “I hear Mrs. Howard has started a lending library. I may be able to persuade her to order a book for me.”

  “My father was rather fond of Culpeper’s Complete Herbal,” Catherine told him. “I’ll see if I can find a copy for you.”

  He nodded his thanks, made sure the fire and lamp were burning and left her.

  Despite her reaction to Drew, once more sleep came easily, the air so cool and crisp she could almost taste it. A few hours later Beth woke her as promised, rousing Catherine from a hazy dream in which she ran through the woods, searching for something she couldn’t name.

  “Though I’m not sure you’re needed, as Ma’s sleeping just fine,” the girl reported as she walked Catherine back across the clearing. Both the trip with John and now with Beth had gone remarkably smoothly. Had Drew really needed to carry her the previous night?

  But as Catherine settled herself in the chair next to Mrs. Wallin, she almost wished she had stayed in bed. There was nothing to keep her mind from the memories that crept up on her like a woodland mouse.

  Her father teaching her brother to ride.

  Nathan so proud in the uniform she’d helped sew for him.

  Her standing by their gravestones, lined up clean and bright next to the church.

  She rose and stoked the fire, then traveled to the far window and peered out. The moon was riding high; she could see a reflection of silver on the lake, brightening the shore. For a moment, she thought she saw a shadow slipping along below the house, but she blinked to focus her weary eyes and it was gone.

  Drew or his brothers must have found food elsewhere, for no one disturbed them. The sun had already risen when she yawned and reached for the water bucket. Drew had left them plenty of wood, but she thought Beth might need most of the water for breakfast. Perhaps she could ask Levi to fill this bucket for her so she could help Mrs.
Wallin wash up.

  Unfortunately, she found his bed empty, seemingly undisturbed from last night. Well, she’d simply have to fend for herself. She took the bucket downstairs, intending to fill it from Drew’s pump. She stepped out on the porch.

  And froze.

  There were men everywhere. Some had curled up along the boardwalk of the house, heads pillowed on their bent knees. Others camped under the eaves of the barn. All lay still, the silence broken by the occasional snore.

  What had happened? Why were they here? Had she been wrong about Mrs. Wallin’s illness? Was this the start of an epidemic?

  She dropped the bucket and ran into the yard. Crouching over the closest fellow, she felt for a pulse at his wrist. It was beating strongly.

  His eyes popped open, a bleary blue in his grizzled face. “Glory be, it’s true! There is a woman in the woods.”

  Catherine was so surprised she fell back on her skirts. Even as he scrambled to his feet, other hands grabbed her under her arms and hauled her upright.

  “There now, ma’am,” a man dressed in fur skins said with a smile that revealed several missing teeth. The burned smell of badly tanned leather coiled around her before he released her. “Don’t you mind Old Joe. He don’t got the manners of a flea.”

  “But I do.” Another man in a fine wool suit, starched collar lifting his shaven chin, pushed forward. He whisked out a snowy white handkerchief and attempted to dust off her skirts. “There you go, missy. All set to marry me.”

  “Marry you!” Catherine sputtered, shaking out her skirts.

  Old Joe shoved him back into the muddy yard. “Hey, I saw her first!”

  “But I got here before any of you lot,” declared the man in fur. “I paid Mercer a pretty penny for a bride, and none of them hoity-toity misses in town will listen to me. By rights, this one is mine.”