Prairie Hearts

by J. B. Marsden

  An older man came up to Emma. “Good even, Miss Reynolds. How do you fare?”

  “Well, Mr. Kerr. Miss Fletcher, may I present Mr. John Kerr and his wife Martha, the local physician.”

  Carrie nodded her head. “Well met, Mr. and Mrs. Kerr.”

  Kerr took Carrie’s hand and kissed it. Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Miss Fletcher, my pleasure.” He gazed at her clothes for a moment. “You are Mr. Stratton’s sister, is that not so? You farm with him at Moss Creek?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Miss Reynolds tells me you share her vocation in growing medicinal plants for healing.”

  “Aye.” Would he chastise them for their methods of healing?

  “Miss Reynolds has become my boon companion in treating the ailments of our neighbors. I hope for the same with you.”

  “Thank ye. I do wish to work with Emma. Do you use her concoctions?”

  “I do at times. I regret I don’t possess her knowledge. She provides me with some medicinals for pain and such. Too many accidents call me away for treating all but the most dire circumstances. I serve as the coroner as well, all of which keeps me quite occupied. Even should I know the proper concoctions, Miss Reynolds’s studied methods outdo my meager time and skills. I welcome you as another such woman to midwife and dose the common ailments.”

  Carrie nodded. “I have not midwifed, but I make all the concoctions for my brother’s family.”

  “Mayhap we will meet in our vocations, Miss Fletcher. Do enjoy the frolic.” He took his wife’s arm and turned to greet others.

  Emma smiled at Carrie. “A gentleman.”

  “Aye, that he is. Very congenial in his manners.”

  Mr. Donner called for dancing.

  Dixson bowed before his new wife and they took their place as the lead couple for the reel. Other men left the jug none too swiftly. Blanton Forrester got Elizabeth, Moose Mumford gathered Nancy, and they all joined the line.

  James and Laura sat together on the bench at their table, holding hands and watching the line form.

  Two black-clad widow women stood up to dance.

  Emma stood and held her hand out for Carrie. “Come with me. We don’t have enough men. They need us to fill out the line.” She smiled.

  Carrie hesitated. Dear heavens. Touching Emma. How could she do it? She gulped and took Emma’s soft hand in hers and went to take their place in the line. No one seemed to take note as they joined as the last of the six couples.

  Emma pushed Carrie toward the men’s side. Carrie plucked at her clothes. They were partners!

  Mr. Donner played an introduction and the reel began with “Turkey in the Straw.”

  Bow, swing partners left, then right, slide, do-si-do, seesaw on the other side. The newly married Mr. and Mrs. Dixson reeled down the line, swinging with each of the other dancers. They came back to the front of the line, led all the couples around to “peel the banana,” then formed an arch for the couples to thread down to form a line with a new head couple, the Mumfords. George Donner fiddled a lively set.

  Couples laughed and swung energetically, huffed with effort, skipped like children, and generally acted delighted. When the first set finished, Donner immediately set up another country dance to “Yankee Doodle,” with four couples in each square. They enlisted the bride’s older parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, to complete the two squares.

  In all, Emma and Carrie danced seven reels and country dances with the other couples. Sweat streamed down Carrie’s back. She laughed as she forgot steps to the square dances and ran into Moose twice.

  Emma grinned at her and shook her head. “No, no. Right, not left. Remember you’re the man.”

  Carrie stumbled around, but finally found the rhythm and correct places she was to go, dancing beside Moose, Blanton, and Caleb in their square.

  The fiddler laid down his instrument and talked with Miss Dozier. The men ran immediately to the jug and Carrie wandered over to drink a cup of the liquor. The thick liquid tasted of burnt corn. She missed the bourbon James had brought from Kentucky, ruing that they had finished it some days ago.

  Emma talked to Laura and some other ladies and helped them clean tables of the meal. Wallace’s serving girl set trenchers next to the cake. Susannah called the guests together, and they ate at the tables again.

  People laughed loudly now, telling jokes. Even the women had begun to sip daintily of the strong liquor. Carrie spied James, Moose, and Blanton gathered in a bunch, and she expected they planned a chivaree for the new couple. Moose especially liked this type of raucous teasing of a newly married couple.

  Emma sat again next to Carrie, who had been quietly taking in the revelry.

  Mr. Donner finished eating his cake with Miss Dozier, tuned his fiddle, and played tunes for both dancing and singing.

  Emma gripped Carrie’s hand again. Carrie hoped her energy would hold out. Her shirt lay wet on her back and she felt flushed, not only from the drink.

  The dancing seemed to speed up. After drinking several cups of wine and one of corn liquor, Carrie was none too light on her feet.

  Emma, too, seemed affected by the drink, her face rosy, her speech a little louder. She yelped as she skipped through another reel with Carrie, kicking up her heels. Carrie laughed, but her feet didn’t work as well, and she stumbled through the dance. All the crowd danced in small squares now, even James and Laura.

  Dancing and singing went on until the wee hours. The moon had long set and stars shone brightly. The May evening cooled, but went unnoticed in the dancers’ exertions. Not quite so drunk and dizzy, Carrie grabbed Emma’s hand and led her to a bench at the far side of the yard, away from the revelry.

  Emma laid her head on Carrie’s shoulder sleepily. Carrie gently tucked in some of the chestnut hair that had escaped Emma’s braid pinned to the top of her head. Carrie took off her coat and laid it over Emma’s front. Drowsy herself, Carrie canted her head to rest against Emma’s. Soon they both snoozed in the chill air.

  Laura gently nudged her shoulder. “Sister. Carrie, honey. Time to go for home.”

  Emma stirred under the coat, spread her arms, and yawned. “Oh, good heavens. Did I fall asleep on you?”

  Laura and Carrie both chuckled tiredly.

  “Do you want to go back to our cabin? You shouldn’t be out alone on the trail so late,” Laura said.

  Emma looked at Carrie with regret. “I came with Blanton and Elizabeth.”

  Only a few people still remained, mostly men drinking with Mr. Wallace and Dixson. Emma found Elizabeth Forrester.

  Carrie hugged Emma. “Good night. Thank ye for dragging me out to dance.” She laughed.

  “Good night.”

  Emma and Elizabeth lumbered down the trace in the Forresters’ wagon.

  James, Moose, and Blanton left for the chivaree of the newlyweds at Dixson’s cabin. Carrie drove Laura and Permelia in the wagon down the dark path.

  After a mile, a rustle came from the timber on the left side. A native man and a man of color stepped out some yards ahead of them and seemed surprised by their presence.

  Carrie reined in Maisey. “Good even.”

  The black man greeted them after removing his hat. “We do not want to trouble you ladies. I am a freeman. Laban is my name. This here is Red Fox. He is one of the Kickapoo from these parts.”

  “What can we do for ye?” Carrie squinted at them in the relative darkness. They each were dressed in deerskin leggings and breech cloths and were over-skinny.

  “We need something to eat, if you have any to spare. We been trying to hunt this spring, but some white men ran us off their acreage up the trace, and we are powerful hungry.”

  Laura said in a steady voice, “We got some vittles we can share. My husband might could let you hunt on our ground with him.”

  “Y’all wait here. We’re about half an hour from our cabin. I’ll drop off Laura and come back.”

  When they reached the cabin, Laura laid Permelia in her cradle and looked in
on the children while Carrie gathered some food in a sack.

  Laura came down the loft just as Carrie finished saddling Maisey.

  “You be careful, ye hear? They look harmless, but—”

  “Don’t fret, I got my knife. I’ll have them come down another day to talk to James about hunting.” Carrie was not so afeared, but Laura tugged nervously at her dress. “I’ll be fine. They’re only hungry men.”

  “If you say so. I’ve never met up with a Kickapoo face-to-face afore. Just treat ’em with a kindness. Moose has like to scared me to death with his tales.”

  “I’ll be back directly,” Carrie called. She reined Maisey, then turned back abruptly. “I fear for Emma alone in that cabin with these men traipsing about. It’s too late to return tonight. I’ll stay with her.”

  “If you think that’s best.” Laura waved her off.

  Laban and Red Fox were sitting where they had left them. They rose and Carrie stopped Maisey near Laban. “This here’s cheese we got from a neighbor and some dried meat. Go down to Moss Creek in the next day or so. Mr. Stratton is my brother and he’ll allow you to hunt with him on our acreage.”

  “We are mighty grateful for your hospitality, ma’am.” Laban dug in a leather pouch hanging around his neck and pulled out a small object. “I’d be obliged if you were to take this in exchange.”

  Carrie held out her hand and felt the weight of flint dropped into it. She nodded to Laban.

  Laban and Red Fox then stepped back into the timber and went quietly out of sight.

  Carrie inhaled when she realized she had been holding her breath.

  Emma, a little tipsy from imbibing, took her time lighting candles after Elizabeth dropped her at the cabin. A horse whinnied and she gasped; she waited. Boots sounded on the step. She peered through the window into the dark night, then opened the door.

  Carrie stood on her step.

  “Ah, Miss Fletcher. What brings you out?”

  “I met up with two men on the trace…I wanted to make certain you’re all right. I thought to stay the night.”

  “Oh. Two men?” She inhaled sharply.

  “One a man of color, the other a Kickapoo.”

  Her heart pounded and she trembled. “Did they hurt you?” She eyed Carrie’s body in a panic.

  “No. They were hungry. I took them some vittles from our cabin. Then I thought it wise to see to your safety. I didn’t ken any meanness in them, but I didn’t want you to meet with them alone here.”

  “You look after me, Miss Fletcher. I am sorely grateful.” Emma exhaled. “I confess I am nervous about Indians.”

  Immediately gathering Emma into a bear hug, Carrie stroked her back tenderly.

  Tears flowed down Emma’s cheeks. She sniffled. “I’m sorry to be overwrought.”

  “You’ve got the heart of a lady, honey. It’s all right.” Carrie patted her and rubbed her shoulders while Emma wept into her coat.

  “Oh, heavens. I messed your good clothes.” She brushed Carrie’s front and smoothed the cloth. Carrie must think her a ninny to be so upset at the mention of an Indian.

  “No matter. It will clean up.” She looked into Emma’s eyes.

  “I’m not one to be timid. But at times, living alone out here frightens me. I hear tales of the Indians. Scalping. Last year in Wisconsin Territory Indians stole some children.” A quiet cry escaped her. “In York State our neighbors suffered several Mohican raids. They made off with cattle and horses when I was a child. I became so frightened they would come for my family and me. Some nights any small noise would set me off and Mother had to comfort me.”

  Carrie cooed to her and held her until her weeping abated.

  Finally, Emma gathered herself and sniffed into a handkerchief Carrie produced. “You came to stay the night?”

  “If you’ll have me.”

  “I’m grateful to have you. Come to bed, then. It’s so late. I’m exhausted, as must you be.” She clasped Carrie’s hand. “I want us to sleep in the big bed. Will you? I need the feel of another’s warmth.”

  “I will.” Carrie exhaled.

  Emma led them into the second room of the cabin where her father’s large bed stood. She glanced at Carrie. “You’re remarkably calm. Did the encounter with the Indian and colored man not affect you? I shake on your behalf, I believe.” Her arms snaked around her own waist.

  Carrie removed her coat and hung it on a hook on the bedroom wall. She sighed. “It don’t bother me much. We had Shawnee come by our Kentucky cabins. They traded with us for food, especially in the late winter and early spring. I reckon they call February the Hunger Moon for good reason.” She grinned, remembering. “James hunted with one Shawnee by the name of Edwin Bluejacket. He named Mumford ‘Moose’ because of his size. His real name’s Horace.”

  Emma pondered how anyone could be kind to Indians. When she was seven or eight, she’d seen many a dead white settler killed by the heathens in York State during the raging of the Indian Wars. “You had no Indian Wars in Kentucky?”

  “I suppose during the early days of Boone and Henderson. But, the Shawnee didn’t bother us if we left them to their hunting ground and we stayed on ours. Moose Mumford’s brother Gideon had a horse go missing one night and he blamed it on the Shawnee, but we wondered at that. The Shawnee we knew wouldn’t steal from friends they traded with. Now, Gideon was always one to tell tall tales, a teaser like Moose, so we learnt to take him with a grain of salt, if you know what I’m aiming at.”

  “I see. So, the Shawnee never killed your neighbors?”

  “Not our close neighbors. We were friends with our Shawnee, traded with them, hunted with them, and honored their territory. We didn’t have much that they wanted, to tell the truth. But Laura’s cooking drew them and they would trade trinkets for food as winter wore on. Sometimes we didn’t have much more than a little venison jerky and dried apples, but we would share. Laura was always generous. James…now, that’s a horse of different color. When he found out Laura traded the last of our apples a couple years back, some sparks flew that day.” Carrie chuckled.

  Emma loved to hear her laughter, and she realized she heard it very little from the stoic woman. But the tales she told of the Shawnee? “I find it hard to reconcile with our family’s own time with the Mohicans. When I was ten, they killed and scalped a neighbor farmer and his wife and took his little daughter. We all were stunned and afraid for our lives. After that tragedy, Father got a dog that barked at strangers coming anywhere near us.”

  Carrie nodded but said nothing.

  “They didn’t attack us, but they stole some chickens.”

  “I figure you had plenty reason to be scared, then. When they stole the chickens, they did not leave anything in exchange?”

  Emma paused. “They left a dirty blanket once, I remember. Mother burned it, believing it harbored pests and disease. I was taught that Indians were filthy heathens, I’m embarrassed to admit.”

  “I can see where you get your ways, then. And why you might be afeared of the men Laura and I met. I’m glad to be here. James and I learned if you treat someone good, they will treat you good in return. Mayhap I am…what is the word?”

  “Naïve?” Carrie might be naïve, she had many skills and resources. And wisdom.

  “Naïve. And plain ignorant of what I don’t see with my own eyes.” Carrie yawned loudly. “Let’s get some sleep afore the sun rises.”

  Emma turned her back to take off her good bodice and skirt, leaving her in petticoats and pantaloons. She reached on a hook on the wall and slid her nightdress over the underclothes, then pulled them off as well. She turned to find Carrie staring unabashedly at her.

  Carrie gulped. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  Emma wondered if Carrie found her attractive. Emma felt very attracted to Carrie’s handsome face, trim body, broad shoulders, and muscular arms. Her mind reeled with unspoken feelings.

  Sitting on a small puncheon stool, she took down her hair, unbraided it, and slowly brushed i
t out. She found Carrie fumbling with her belt and the buttons on her breeches, sliding them down over long johns. The muslin shirt then hung past her hips, halfway down her thighs. Emma went to her side of the bed, pulled the covers down, and slid under them. They were cool but not cold. “Come on. Get in.” Emma held the covers up for Carrie to crawl in next to her. “Thank you for staying with me. I feel safer having you around. Do you mind if I get closer?”

  Carrie didn’t answer, but scooted across the small space and drew Emma into her arms.

  Emma cooed, “This is lovely.” She sighed into Carrie’s strong, warm shoulder and relaxed into quiet slumber.

  Carrie stiffened while Emma drifted to sleep, not knowing where to put her hands. She caressed the long hair down Emma’s back, liking the feel of the silky strands. Her body felt strange being so close to Emma’s warm, billowy breasts and soft hips. Her heart sped up and her breathing became ragged. And down below, an ache began. She reckoned she knew what that meant. She felt it before, watching Laura take a bath once, gazing brazenly at her heavy, milk-filled breasts too long. She glanced away before Laura discovered her, thank heavens. She didn’t need to be caught lusting after James’s wife, for certain.

  But the same feeling as that day came over her and she tried diverting her thoughts by considering all the planting still waiting for her when she got back to Moss Creek. Anything to take her mind off the lavender fragrance of the soft body next to her.

  Finally, exhausted from the night’s events, she slept.

  The crow of Emma’s rooster and orange light all around the cabin woke her. The fireplace held cold ashes. Emma clung to her in a warm snuggle. Carefully, she removed Emma’s arms from her waist, pulled the covers over her, and slipped out of the soft bed. She hadn’t slept long, but it was heavenly because of the crisp, clean sheets and good quilt, and, of course, the wonder of a soft woman sleeping soundly by her side.

  She got the fire blazing and took two buckets to fill at the creek, a good distance from the cabin door. When she hauled them in, the door creaked on its leather hinges but Emma did not wake.