Julianne MacLean

by Prairie Bride

  She felt her pulse quicken as she answered, “I did.”

  Slowly, he pushed the door open. It was not the sight, but the eerie sound that crushed all hope—a monotonous, deafening buzz that hurt Sarah’s ears.

  Briggs quickly stepped back and slammed the door. He said nothing. He stood there, head bowed, clutching the latch.

  Sarah touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  His body moved with a sigh. “I didn’t expect them to be gone. I’d hoped, of course, but I didn’t expect it.” He gazed down at her, his eyes strained with worry. “Do you still want to come out to the barn?”

  “Yes,” she answered, needing to be with him, needing to see what was left of their farm.

  Ushering Sarah by the elbow, Briggs pulled the door open and hurried outside. He raised his arm to shield their faces from the pesky creatures. A pink haze colored the horizon but barely lit the sky as their feet crunched over the ground. Millions of grasshoppers surrounded them, flitting about and feeding hungrily on anything they could find.

  Sarah and Briggs reached the barn and rushed inside. The animals were restless, crying and complaining. Grasshoppers had infested the tiny structure.

  Briggs lit the lantern and the room brightened. “Good God,” he said, his voice a pale whisper. Sarah’s mouth dropped open in shock.

  The locusts had been everywhere, devouring, consuming. The wooden handle of a hoe that stood by the door had been chewed where the sweat had soaked in. The worn parts of the harness were badly eaten, and the creatures were still feasting on it. Ropes were cut through and in pieces. An old straw hat which had been left hanging on a post by Maddie’s stall was in shreds.

  Two insects simultaneously beat against Sarah’s face. She waved them away while Briggs stood staring at the stalls, astonished. The pests had eaten the hay. They were crawling around on the horses’ backs and scooting through their long manes.

  He went to the harness to examine it more closely. Sarah followed. “Can we save it?”

  “I think so, but you better take it inside the house.” He placed it in her arms. “Is it too heavy?”

  It was heavier than she expected, but not unmanageable. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Why don’t you go inside?” He looked around the barn, the frustration evident in his green eyes. “I’m going to milk Maddie, then check the crops, but it doesn’t look good.”

  Sarah nodded in anguish and left the barn. She walked back to the house with the harness, squinting through the swarm and feeling her hopes sinking quickly. She had come here with a dream of farm life, but it seemed that dream would not be granted so easily.

  She only hoped, that after all this devastation, Briggs wouldn’t decide to pack it in. And pack her off at the same time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The unwelcome visitors stayed two more days, feasting on the helpless homestead. Each night, Briggs slept on the floor with Shadow, and Sarah slept uneasily in the bed. Several times she started from her pillow, dreaming that the locusts had invaded her bed. Then she would discover that the little sod house had kept its promise of shelter. It had forbidden entry to almost all the enemy insects.

  On the third day, Sarah and Briggs awakened with little hope the grasshoppers would ever leave, but as soon as the sun rose in the sky, the wind shifted. By noon, the swarm departed as quickly as it had come, leaving nothing but shredded cornstalks and bare fields where wheat had once been.

  Nothing survived in the vegetable garden either, the dry soil strewn with dead grasshoppers. The water in the barrels looked like grasshopper soup and probably tasted worse. Briggs hauled the barrels to the garden and tipped them over, watering the soil and assuring Sarah that the locusts would make good fertilizer for the new crop he’d plant.

  That evening, they sat in silence over a dinner of cornmeal pancakes and sorghum molasses, trying not to think about how they would survive the winter without the profits from the harvest. Sarah just wanted to forget everything for the night and pray that she would someday feel happy again.

  “What do you think the creek looks like?” she asked, trying to keep her hopes from fading completely.

  Briggs sipped his coffee, the only thing fit to drink that didn’t taste like grasshoppers. They needed to keep the milk for making butter to sell, though they wouldn’t get much for it. “I don’t know. I haven’t gone down yet. Why?”

  She sighed. “I’d love to take a bath.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes. Why don’t we walk over after supper?”

  Sarah nodded, too tired to even speak.

  They finished eating within minutes, and Sarah cleaned off the table. She untied her apron and draped it over the chair. “Are you ready?”

  “I’ve been ready for three days.”

  Sharing a much needed chuckle, they climbed the steps and opened the door. Magenta light struck Sarah in the face as she turned toward the sunset.

  “Ah,” Briggs sighed, stopping just outside the house. “Do you feel that?” Eyes closed, he breathed in the warm evening breeze.

  Sarah gazed at his subtle smile, admiring the angular shape of his face. He had a perfect nose and an attractive dimple on his squared chin. “It’s wonderful.”

  “It’s so quiet and peaceful.”

  “It’s like heaven.” She took in another breath of air like a thirst-quenching drink. Then she noticed Briggs staring toward what had once been the wheat field.

  She reached out and closed her hand around his. His warmth traveled to her fingers and up her arm, all the way to her heart. She felt his grip tighten ever so gently. For an instant they were connected in some intangible way, communicating, feeling the same disconcerted emotions and knowing it.

  Sarah felt a brief joy in the shared moment, then led Briggs forward. They’d come out here to celebrate their freedom from the locusts, not to mourn what they’d lost. “Let’s go see how the creek looks.”

  They walked across the fields, through the dead grass and the leafless stubs of corn, saying nothing. By the time they reached the creek, the rolling plains had swallowed the sun. The sky was a deep shade of royal blue—that rare color that remains only a few moments before the day surrenders to night.

  “It looks pretty clear,” Briggs said, his voice fringed with surprise as he looked down at the water. It was flowing slowly downstream, gurgling in shallow places, swirling silently in deeper ones.

  “Thank goodness.”

  Sarah barely had a chance to blink before Briggs tossed his jacket over a leafless shrub. He pulled his loose white shirt over his head, then hopped to keep his balance while he pulled off a boot. “Look away if you have to, ’cause I’m in no mood to worry about your delicate sensibilities. That water looks too tempting.”

  He dropped both boots onto the ground and reached hurriedly to unfasten his trousers. Stunned and wide-eyed, Sarah watched him step out of his pants. The darkness dulled any image of him, and she wasn’t certain if the knots in her belly were tightening because she was thankful or disappointed.

  The next instant, a tremendous splash cut through the quiet dusk.

  “Aah!” he called out, poking a hole in the water as he resurfaced. Brisk waves splashed onto the bank and forced Sarah back.

  Briggs flicked his wet hair, shooting bullets of water upward to the sky. “Come on in. It feels great.”

  He was treading water, watching and waiting for her to undress. A passionate fluttering arose within her. It was both thrilling and frightening at the same time.

  Stalling, she began to pull out her hairpins, one by one. She shook her head so her thick, wavy hair swung down her back. It wasn’t late enough to be completely cloaked by darkness, but Briggs didn’t seem concerned. He continued to tread water, looking up at her.

  She unbuttoned her bodice, but then hesitated, holding it closed. Hot nerves knotted tightly in her stomach. She’d never undressed like this in front of a man befo
re.

  He did a backstroke away from her, but kept his eyes fixed.

  Good heavens, this was too much! Her heart skittered within her, causing her whole body to tremble. He would simply have to turn away.

  Embarrassed at having to ask, but even more afraid of what would happen if she didn’t, she met his gaze. “Would you mind looking away?” She felt her cheeks suddenly flame red and hated them for it.

  Briggs stopped swimming. For a moment, he seemed to hold back a response, his lips dipping into the dark water. Then, came the reply. “Yeah, I would mind.”

  Stunned, Sarah clutched her unbuttoned bodice. All thoughts skidded to a halt inside her muddled brain.

  “Don’t look so shocked. We’re married, aren’t we?”

  His tone was playful, which relaxed her a bit, but not entirely. Oh, why had she suggested this? She hadn’t thought about this part at all. She only wanted to feel clean again.

  “Fine,” she said, trying not to sound apprehensive. She pulled her bodice off her shoulders, deciding then and there that she would swim in her chemise and drawers. They needed laundering anyway and wash day wasn’t until Friday.

  Feeling her husband’s stare, she stepped out of her skirt and draped it neatly atop his coat. Next she unhooked her corset, tossed it onto the ground, and unlaced and removed her boots.

  In a hurry to hide within the water’s dark shelter, she waded in to her waist, then gently dove under. Cool freshness enveloped her. The muffled din of water in her ears blocked out everything else. She felt all her problems rinsing away….

  Upward she came, in a speedy flight. Shattering the silence, she broke through the surface and sucked the clean air into her lungs. Satin droplets tickled her face and neck.

  “Feels great, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s wonderful.”

  “I wish we could stay in here forever.”

  Sarah smiled, understanding. “But we can’t.”

  “I know.”

  They swam around each other a while, enjoying the silence.

  “What are we going to do?” Sarah asked, after they’d had a chance to enjoy the moment.

  Briggs pushed his wet hair back from his face. “I can plant fall wheat, but that won’t do us any good until we harvest it in November, and it won’t be enough to keep us in provisions for the winter.”

  “Is there nothing else we could do?”

  He swam closer. “I’ve been thinking about that….”

  His hesitation raised Sarah’s doubts.

  “I could find work in Nebraska for harvest season, if they haven’t been hit by the locusts. I could wire my pay back here and—”

  “And leave me behind?” Sarah interrupted sharply.

  “It would only be for a few months.”

  “A few months! No. Absolutely not.”

  She would have thought her outburst would displease him. After all, who was she to decide what should be done? Oddly enough, a twinkle of moonlight reflected in his eyes and revealed a trace of delight.

  Delight?

  Watching him, Sarah dropped deeper into the water until it touched her ears.

  “We’ll need the money for winter supplies and food,” he said. “We don’t even have any blankets and it gets plumb frigid around here in February.”

  Sarah wanted to sink beneath the surface and drift aimlessly through the water’s blackness. She didn’t want to think about Briggs leaving her alone.

  “Sarah?” He swam a little closer.

  “Couldn’t I go with you?”

  He tilted his head to the side, his expression apologetic. “No, that wouldn’t be possible. I’d be sleeping in a bunkhouse, most likely. Besides, you’d have to take care of things here.”

  The thought had barely settled in her mind before she realized what it meant. She would miss him. She would long for him.

  She watched him dive below, then almost immediately resurface and throw his hair back. “I don’t want you to go,” she said, matter-of-factly.

  He paused, his green eyes brimming with wonder. “I don’t see any other solution.”

  Perhaps it was affection, perhaps it was desperation, but whatever it was, it found an answer. “I know one. I’ll sell my pearls.”

  For a moment, he simply stared at her.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes. But I can’t let you do that.”

  She had expected that response, but she had to convince him. “Why not? I don’t need them out here. I’d rather do without them, than do without you.”

  He swam closer. “You surprise me.”

  “Will you think about it?”

  “You won’t be selling them. I won’t let you. You deserve to have something fine.”

  I do have something fine.

  They gazed into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, until Sarah felt suddenly shy and couldn’t look at him anymore. She swam in a circle, dunking her head and leaving the discussion behind. The sky blackened, the moon grew brighter.

  “Have you noticed yet,” Briggs asked, “that the stars are more brilliant out here than they are in town?”

  Sarah looked up, and as cool water caressed the back of her head, she saw that he was right.

  A sudden splash broke the silence as Briggs dove under. Smoothly and unexpectedly, he came up before her and rested his hands on her hips. She tried to remain calm, but her blood was racing.

  He touched her cheek, then let his fingers wander to her earlobe. Gooseflesh moved down her body as he played with the hair above her ear. “You look very pretty.”

  His strong arms came around her, and she felt the evidence of his arousal. Something tingled in the pit of her stomach. She remembered the ways he had touched her on their wedding night and realized she desperately wanted to feel him loving her that way again. To feel him holding her, caring for her. Had he forgiven her? she wondered hopefully, shivering when his lips touched her cheek.

  Her feet, rooted to the soft, muddy creek bottom, suddenly lifted. She squeezed his broad shoulders while he guided her legs to straddle him.

  In his arms, she felt as light as a leaf floating in the water. She wasn’t sure what to do next, so she followed her instincts and locked her ankles together around his waist.

  There in his embrace, she felt secure and safe from everything. She let her cheek rest upon his shoulder. Droplets of water tickled her skin, sending waves of commotion through her veins. A delicate thread of intimacy was taking shape between them, and she feared if she let him go, it would snap and transport them back to the beginning.

  And more than anything, she wanted to go forward….

  “Sarah,” he whispered, leaving a trail of kisses across her face. He kissed her nose, her eyelids, then opened his mouth and covered hers. She squeezed her legs around him as their lips met. Was this truly happening?

  He spun them slowly through the water, his hands grazing up and down her back. Sarah cupped his stubbled cheeks and deepened their kiss, not knowing how long this would last, but wanting to enjoy it for as long as it did.

  His breathing intensified as his hand moved quickly to unfasten the tiny buttons of her chemise. The soft contact made her gasp—it was all happening so fast.

  He pulled back. “Do you want this or not?”

  “I—I do.”

  “Are you certain?”

  Briggs aroused her senses in a way she’d never known, yet she was frightened at the same time. The last time they’d come together this way, it had been disastrous.

  “I’m sure. I’m just nervous.”

  “Why? You’ve done this before.”

  Her arousal skidded to an abrupt halt. She knew it was the truth, but he had used it to hurt her. To make her remember what she’d done. He wanted her to know he’d not forgotten that she had lied to him.

  She felt ashamed all over again, and a painful lump clogged her throat.

  “Sarah, I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

  “Maybe not, but you said it j
ust the same.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t want to talk about this. She just wanted to go home.

  “It’s been a rough few days,” he said, backing away through the water. “We’re both tired. I didn’t mean that.”

  She nodded, but couldn’t look at him knowing how he still felt about her. She had so wanted his respect and had thought she’d earned some over the past few difficult days.

  Swallowing, she watched him wade out of the water, his naked body barely visible in the darkness. “We’ll go home. Why don’t you come out of there before you catch cold?”

  Sarah waded out of the creek hugging herself, her teeth chattering. She picked up her corset and put it on over her wet chemise. Briggs held her bodice up for her, and while she buttoned it, he retrieved her skirt. After they were both dressed, he took her arm and helped her up the creek bank, but all his gentlemanly courtesies could not mask how he truly saw her, and how wretched it made Sarah feel.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Leading his wife across the prickly, ravaged field, Briggs wondered in the darkness if this marriage would ever work. He reckoned she’d told it like it was, down at the creek. He had said what he said to hurt her. A part of him still thought she must care for the man who had loved her first. Why wouldn’t she? It had only been a few weeks.

  Briggs tightened his grip on Sarah’s slender arm, leading her around a pile of shredded cornstalks. They walked in a cloud of uneasy silence, the moon lighting their way.

  When they walked into the barnyard, he finally relaxed his grip on her arm and let her go. Head down, she quickened her pace to the house and went inside. Briggs stopped and watched the tiny window brighten with a warm, flickering glow. He turned toward the barn—his bed until the locusts had come. He turned back to the little dugout.

  What should he do? Where should he sleep tonight?

  He remembered holding Sarah in his arms only minutes ago, the way she had curved into his body. He remembered her by his side two nights ago, on her hands and knees cutting cornstalks. She’d been fearless. Everything he could have wanted in a wife.