Wolf Creek Widow (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 4)

by Penny Richards

  “Sick?” A parade of thoughts marched through Meg’s mind. She’d heard a few weeks before running into Georgie in front of the café that she was ill, but she’d looked fine when they’d met on the street. A little thinner and a bit pale, perhaps, but healthy enough. Or had the flush of color in her cheeks been a bit too bright? “What do you mean, sick? What’s the matter with her?”

  “Consumption,” Rachel offered in an almost apologetic tone.

  Consumption! Just hearing the word struck terror in Meg’s heart. It was commonly known that anyone diagnosed with that disease had been handed a death warrant.

  “How long has she had it?” she asked, feeling a bit queasy.

  “I have no way of knowing for sure. Serena told Georgina that she needed to see what was going on, since she’d been running a fever and had a nagging cough and lack of energy for such a long time. At first your mother thought it was a cold, even though she was coughing up blood from time to time. Then she’d get better for a while. When that happens, the patient thinks they’re on the road to recovery, but another setback is inevitable.”

  “Is she bad?”

  Rachel nodded. “Not as bad as she’ll get if she doesn’t change her diet and get some exercise. So far, she’s fighting that. You know your mother likes her food, and I’ve tried to caution her about overeating. Even though her breathing is difficult, she would benefit from spending time outside as long as the temperature is stable. Moderate exercise would be good for her, as well. Contrary to what everyone believes, some people do recover. Sadly, most don’t.”

  Meg’s head was spinning as she tried to absorb what Rachel was telling her. She and her mother had been at odds for her entire life, yet to hear that her time on earth was limited was disturbing. “I’ve heard that moving to a warmer climate can help.”

  “It can if the move is undertaken early in the disease’s progression. Most people, including your mother, wait until things have gone too far for a move to make any difference.”

  “How...how long can someone live with it?” Meg asked around the unexpected lump in her throat.

  Rachel gave a slight, noncommittal shrug. “If the disease is active, time can vary from a few weeks to a few years. The average time is about eighteen months.”

  “Georgie?”

  “Oh, Meg!” Rachel shook her head. “I have no way of knowing that. God will take her when it’s her time. I do know that her cough is getting progressively worse and so is the amount of blood mixed with the phlegm. She’s started having night sweats, too, which can happen at any time, but it’s usually a good indication that the disease is well established.”

  They talked about her mother’s condition a bit longer, and then, feeling as if a rug had just been pulled out from under her, Meg rummaged around in her pocket for the money to pay for Lucy’s medicine and pressed it into Rachel’s hand. “Thank you for telling me, Rachel. You’re a good friend.”

  Rachel placed the coins on a nearby table. “I know things have been...rocky between you and your mother, but if you ever hope to mend the rift between you, I wouldn’t wait too long to do it.”

  * * *

  Torn by conflicting emotions and a depth of sorrow she was hard-pressed to explain, Meg gave the gray her head and the wagon barreled down the bumpy roads toward home. Still, she barely beat the rain. She’d no more than unhitched the mare, rubbed her down and fed her and run back to the house when the cold drizzle started to fall. After giving Lucy a spoonful of the cough syrup, Meg and Nita followed their evening routine of preparing supper and tending the children as needed.

  To add to Meg’s distress, Teddy and Lucy were unusually demanding and whiny—Lucy because she was miserable with her cold and Teddy because he was missing Ace. Telling him that Ace had things he needed to take care of in a faraway place did little to ease his tears.

  Meg, who tried to never let her feelings spill over into her interaction with her children, snapped at Teddy. She could tell by the concerned looks Nita was giving her that the older woman wondered what was wrong. Only when she started talking about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and how much they would enjoy that big old Tom turkey Ace had shot and hung in the smokehouse did Teddy quiet and eat.

  After cleaning up the supper dishes, the two women got the children settled and donned their own bedclothes before they sat down in the rocking chairs near the fireplace. Nita added another log to the fire and Meg carried the lamps from the kitchen to the small parlor area, placing them to make reading easier.

  They had fallen into the habit of mending or reading for a while each evening before weariness or the increasingly cold nights sent them in search of their beds.

  Meg was doing her best to concentrate on the words of her most recent choice from Libby’s library when Nita looked up from the patch she was sewing on Teddy’s denim pants. “I was going through that pile of worn-out clothes you’d set aside for rags, and I think with the feed sacks we have between the two of us, we could piece another quilt.”

  Meg glanced up from the book she was having such a hard time getting interested in. “Really? That would be wonderful. I’ve pieced tops before, but I’m afraid I’ve never done any actual quilting. It wasn’t on Georgie’s list of skills, and somehow I never learned from Aunt Serena, either.”

  “I can show you how, and I have quilting frames at my place. It’s a good way to pass the time when it gets really cold.”

  “Thank you, Nita,” Meg said sincerely. “I’d love to learn.”

  “From the way you already handle a needle, I expect you’ll pick it up in no time.”

  “Thank you,” Meg said again. Instead of going back to her reading, she clenched the book tightly in her hands and stared at her friend, wondering whether or not to tell her about her mother.

  “What’s the matter, child?” Nita asked. “Since you got back from town, you’ve been as pitiful as I’ve ever seen you.”

  “It’s my mother.”

  “Don’t tell me you two had another squabble.”

  “No. I didn’t see her, but while I was getting Lucy’s medicine, Rachel told me that my mother is—” Meg couldn’t stop the little crack in her voice “—dying. She has consumption.”

  Meg told Nita everything Rachel had confided about her mother’s condition and the progression of the disease.

  “Did she say how long she has?”

  “No,” Meg told her with a shake of her head. “She did say that the disease is active and, from the symptoms Georgie is displaying, that she’s probably had it for some time. She says there’s a treatment called the Golden Medical Discovery that might be beneficial. She’s going to look into it, and she claims that a lot of people have recovered with the proper diet and care. Unfortunately, my mother isn’t one to do anything other than what she wants.”

  Meg ended her tale with Rachel’s admonition that if she wanted to make her peace with her mother, she should do so.

  “Will you go see her?”

  “I know I should, but how do I know she wants me to come see her? She’s treated me so badly, and Charlie...” She gave a little shudder. “Charlie gives me the creeps.”

  “Well, that’s up to you, but regardless of how she’s treated you or even how you feel about her, she is your mother. She carried you inside her body for nine months, and from what I hear, she came close to dying when you were born. That’s something.”

  Meg knew Nita was right, but still, she needed to think on things awhile. Refusing to give Georgie any more thought for right now, Meg asked, “Have you heard from Ace?”

  “No, child. Not a word,” Nita told her.

  Meg didn’t doubt Nita, but there had been times, especially when he’d first gone, that Meg imagined she could feel his presence. Times she stopped what she was doing and looked around, as if she expected to see him come striding
out of the woods. She supposed she was being fanciful, but remembering how he had secretly stayed nearby to keep an eye on her, she felt justified in indulging in the harmless fantasy—another of those romantic notions with its roots in her choice of reading material, no doubt. Of course, back when he was staying in the lean-to, the temperatures weren’t dropping into the thirties at night.

  “Do you usually fix a big Thanksgiving dinner?”

  The question pulled Meg away from her troubling thoughts. She looked at Nita in astonishment. She’d never fixed a traditional dinner. Elton was seldom home, and she had no family other than Aunt Serena, and she’d been unable to make the long trip to her place alone with two children in tow.

  “No. Never.”

  It was Nita’s turn to look amazed. “Well, we can’t have that! Thanksgiving was one American tradition that Yancy embraced wholeheartedly, probably because there was food involved,” she said with a tender smile.

  “My Irishman did love his victuals. We’ll have that turkey Ace smoked. I prefer to bake my Thanksgiving turkey so I can make dressing from the broth, but I’m sure it won’t be any hardship to eat this one. And we’ll have sweet potatoes and turnips and pecan pie...”

  Meg listened to Nita planning the holiday with a sad wistfulness. This was what she’d missed by not having a mother who was interested in a family. She vowed right then and there that she would not do to her children what Georgie had. She would make every day special in some way and she would be the best mother she possibly could.

  Meg thought about her conversations with Rachel and Nita throughout the remaining days of October and into November. Between her unexpected grasp of her misplaced faith, her failure to turn things over to God and hearing the story of her mother’s illness, she had more to consider and even more to pray about. She continued to pray for God to soften the hardness of her heart so she might have a future free of the hostility that had taken root there. Maybe when God had healed her, she could make peace with them.

  Her bitterness toward Elton seemed to be easing. Either her prayers were bearing fruit, or the passage of time and the forging of new memories and experiences were as beneficial as everyone said they’d be.

  Though she’d never imagined it, forgiving her mother was proving to be harder than letting go of her anger at Elton. How did one let go of a lifetime of heartache, shame and resentment?

  She wasn’t sure. What she was sure of was that by failing to give Elton and Georgie the mercy she should, she could never hope to have the joy she wanted for the future. That would be like building a house on a rotten foundation.

  * * *

  Thanksgiving arrived, and with it a light sprinkling of snow that glittered like diamond dust over the brown grass and bare tree limbs. Meg knew the skimpy layer would be gone by midmorning, but it made the start of the day even more unusual.

  Even though Meg and Nita were determined to make this a special day for all, they decided to take Rachel’s advice and pamper themselves by sleeping later than they normally did.

  They had the centerpiece of the meal under control since the turkey was already smoked. A whiff of the hickory Ace had used teased their nostrils every time they passed by the large ironstone platter where the bird rested.

  Nita had made the pecan pies the evening before, filling the little house with the wonderful aromas of butter and roasting nuts. The sweet potatoes would be baked in the Dutch oven later in the morning, and the turnips, which would be mashed with fresh butter, wouldn’t take long to cook. Turnip greens simmered gently over the fire, and the aroma of the bacon used to flavor them mingled with the other mouthwatering smells.

  They ate at noon on the dot. It seemed to Meg that the simple country fare tasted far better than usual, which she credited to her company. Lucy and Teddy seemed to get into the joyful spirit, and Teddy offered to say the prayer of thanksgiving for their blessings.

  Meg was surprised at how grown up he sounded as he thanked God not only for the food, their house and all the animals, but also for Nita and Ace. When he prayed for Ace to come home, Meg couldn’t help the rush of tears or the way her breath caught at the knowledge that Teddy had come to look up to Ace, to depend on him. To love him. And no wonder. Ace had been more of a father to him than Elton had ever been. She dreaded the day Teddy realized that Ace wasn’t coming back.

  After the noon meal, Nita suggested that they go for a walk in the woods and find things to decorate for the upcoming Christmas holiday. Meg’s heart overflowed with love for the pretty older woman who’d come into her life so unexpectedly and, through her willing spirit, patience and gentle ways, had made herself an important part of their lives.

  The walk in the woods was filled with fun and laughter, and even Lucy, bundled up against the chill air, giggled when her faltering steps sent her tumbling into the leaves. Holly and pine and cedar were plentiful, but Nita explained to Teddy that the fragrant branches would dry out and turn brown if they picked them too early, so they didn’t take anything home except some huge pinecones. Nita said they would pile them in one of her baskets with some greenery and tie a bow on the handle. Teddy had great fun picking up the pinecones and placing them gently in the tow sack she’d brought.

  When they came to Meg’s special place, memories of the last time she’d been there with Ace slipped into her mind, like the water rushing over the rocks of the creek. She could almost smell the smoke from his fire.

  On impulse, she took a stick and knelt to stir the remains of the fire. There, beneath the gray ash, were small glowing embers. He’d been here! She didn’t know long ago, but recently enough that the fire hadn’t grown fully cold. Knowing it was insanity, she stood and peered into the thick undergrowth, turning in a full circle as she searched the woods. She saw nothing except naked scrub, fallen leaves and an occasional lichen-covered boulder.

  “What are you doing, Mama?” Teddy asked, looking up at her curiously.

  Meg’s guilty gaze found Nita’s. Nita Allen knew exactly what she was doing.

  “J-just looking for some more holly,” she fibbed. “I don’t see any, but it’s getting colder. I think we should start back.”

  “I agree,” Nita said. When Teddy began to whine, she added, “We’ll have some milk and pie when we get back, and then I think we all need a Thanksgiving nap. Look! Lucy is rubbing her eyes.”

  With Teddy somewhat mollified, they started the tramp back through the woods. On the way, Meg spotted a sprig of mistletoe the wind must have blown down. For some reason it reminded her of the day Ace had plucked the twig from her hair. She realized just how far she’d come since then. On impulse, she picked it up.

  When they reached the house and the others went inside, she paused on the front porch for just a moment, wishing there were some way she could let Ace know that she wanted him to come back. Finally, unable to think of anything else, she suspended the piece of mistletoe on the dinner bell that hung from one of the porch posts. Then she opened her arms wide the same way he did when he welcomed the sunrise. She turned slowly from one side to the other.

  Was he out there?

  Would he understand?

  Would he care?

  * * *

  Ace had no problem following the little quartet through the woods without them being aware of him. He was close enough to see most of what they did but far enough away that their conversations were inaudible. He couldn’t help smiling when he saw Meg sit back on her heels and stir the ashes of the fire, one of the tracking hints about which he’d told her. The smile faded when she looked around at the bare forest. Looking for him.

  What was she feeling? Anger that he’d left without telling her he was going? He had no idea. Even more important, he had no idea why he’d come back. Nothing had really changed except the season.

  After spending a few days getting things settled, he had made the long trek
to Oklahoma, intending to spend some time with his aging grandmother and to put as many miles between himself and Meg as possible.

  Though the distance was great, everything about her followed him. Images of her seldom left his mind. He heard her rare laughter in the rustling of the trees, imagined he could smell the clean scent of her hair on a sudden gust of wind. His heart ached to hold her. His spirit cried out for her. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to banish her from his mind or his heart. A long, empty life stretched out before him.

  Feeling lower than a snake’s belly, needing the benefit of her wisdom, Ace told his grandmother everything about Meg, from the first time he’d seen her in Wolf Creek to his last memory of her when he’d left her standing by the fire.

  It hadn’t taken long for Amadahy to set him straight.

  The tiny birdlike woman with the heart of a bear had exhibited no remorse when she’d told Ace in no uncertain terms that he was acting like a fool for using excuses to drive Meg away. He wanted to argue in his defense, but no one argued with Amadahy. They listened until she finished and then they thanked her.

  “You are a fool, Asa Allen,” she told him, her dark eyes narrowed as she squinted at him through the smoke of a clay pipe. “Do I hear you saying that you fear that perhaps you killed this man because you cared for his woman?”

  Ace, who was sitting at her feet with his arms around his knees, squirmed at the disapproval in her voice. “No. I know I had no choice but to protect myself and my friend. I know I jerked the gun because Elton’s bullet nicked my arm. I wish things could have been different, but that’s not what’s bothering me.”

  “Tell me.”

  Ace met her gaze squarely. “I was glad he was dead, Grandmother, and that is not the way a Christian or an honorable man should feel.”

  “We feel what we feel, right or wrong. You tell me you don’t want her and her children to go through what you and your mother did. Times are changing, and your woman’s ways are different than ours. Just as your mother’s was, her heart is involved. She should have a say in what she is willing to endure to have a life with you. You tell me that she has been through many troubles and that she is strong.”