Prairie Hearts

by J. B. Marsden

  She looked up to James, who held Josh’s hand. “We’ll fix him up. It didn’t penetrate deeply. No broken bone. I need to stitch it up, though.” She never had seen James look so spent and worried. She patted his arm. “He’ll be fine.”

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “You can get my jug of whiskey and give him a half cup against the pain.”

  James took the cup and jug Carrie handed him.

  “Josh, you’re a brave young man. This may hurt, so your poppa will stay with you while I work on you.”

  “Yes’m,” Josh answered with a small grimacing smile.

  “You’re standing it like a man, son. Take this whiskey, now. It’ll burn going down.” James wiped tears with his sleeve.

  Josh choked on the first sip.

  “Get the rest of it.”

  Josh sipped until the whiskey cup was empty, exhaled, and lay back in the bed.

  Emma cleaned the wound with the hot water Carrie brought over in a wooden basin.

  “Oh, Poppa,” he cried out.

  James’s hand gripped Josh’s hand.

  “Just a little more, I promise.”

  Carrie stood near. Silence reigned as Emma worked.

  By the time she had cleaned the wound, Josh’s sleepy face went slack and his eyes closed.

  “I reckon he’s out.” Carrie handed Emma her kit.

  “Thank goodness.” Emma peered at the wound, still seeping blood.

  Carrie threaded a needle and handed it to Emma, and stood to the other side of the bed to hold together the skin for Emma’s stitches.

  Just as Emma finished, Laura arrived in the wagon and ran into the cabin. “What happened? Is he gonna live?”

  James put his arm around Laura and led her to Josh, who still slept. “Weren’t but a flesh wound. Emma stitched it up fine.”

  “Good heavens.” Laura knelt beside Josh and took him in her arms. “I had a bad feeling ’bout this hunt, husband.”

  “He got ahead of us stalking deer. A mistake any tenderfoot hunter makes. Don’t fret, now.” James bowed his head.

  His wife’s eyes bore into him. “Who was it shot him?”

  “Don’t rightly know. Several of us shot about the same time toward the thicket where we’d spied a nice buck.”

  Washing and drying her hands, Emma took in the fussing couple. “Don’t fret over these matters now. It’s done and matters not who or how.”

  Laura sniffled. “Thank ye, Emma.”

  “Why don’t you sit and have some tea. He’ll wake anon and you can take him home.”

  “I’ll fix up some tea leaves for his pain later and for sleep.” Carrie put a full kettle back over the fire.

  Scratches and whining came from door.

  “Patch followed me. I swear that dog can smell trouble.”

  “Our little Juniper’ll take care of Patch.”

  Carrie coaxed Laura, James, and Emma to sit down to tea while she prepared herbs to send with Laura.

  Josh moaned from the bed.

  Laura leapt up.

  “Son, how do ye fare?” She stroked hair from his forehead.

  He looked at her with hooded eyes. “Momma. You didn’t have to come.”

  “I brought the wagon to take you home when Emma says you can go.” She hugged him carefully. “You scared the tar outta me.”

  “Sorry, Momma. I feel much better.” He yawned. “Can I get up?”

  “Not yet, Master Joshua.” Emma assessed him from Laura’s side. “Lie back and rest some more. You gave us all a fright.”

  Laura felt his forehead with the back of hand. “No fever. But we gotta look over you a day or so. You’ll stay close to the cabin. No more hunting for now.”

  “Oh, Momma. Poppa, I can’t hunt?”

  “Not till that leg heals up.”

  “Yes, sir.” Josh pushed out his lower lip.

  “Let’s get some vittles into you.”

  “Aye. I’ll make some porridge.”

  “Carrie, you look like you’re about to fall over, too. You sit. I’ll make the porridge.”

  After Josh ate, Emma judged him fit to travel. James carried him to the wagon, with Laura carrying Emma’s instructions on using the leaves Carrie had bundled up for them.

  “I’ll be down on the morrow to make sure you fare well, boy-cub.” Carrie ruffled his hair as he lay in the back of the wagon covered by blankets.

  “Yes’m. Thank ye for caring for me out at the camp.”

  “The best thanks will be you minding your momma and poppa and getting well.”

  “Yes’m.”

  Carrie blew out her cheeks and looked at Emma after they had waved them on their way. In Emma’s arms, she sighed. “I don’t want another such hunt as that.”

  “You’re exhausted. Get a nap while I clean up around here.” She led Carrie to their bed. “And don’t lie there fretting.”

  “Yes’m.” Carrie smiled at her. “We did snag a couple of fine bucks, two turkeys, and even a wolf in the bargain that won’t be vexing our chickens.”

  “I am glad you had a good hunt, but most of all, I’m pleased you came back to me unscathed. I’m sorry about Josh.”

  “He’s a strong boy. He’ll heal up with our potions.” Carrie yawned and slid onto the bed.

  While Carrie slept, Emma tidied up the mess, shaking her head at the dangers the hunters had faced. Josh’s injury scared her, but she was relieved that nothing more had happened, and that Carrie slept again in their cabin.

  Josh, young and hale, recovered well from his adventure. His brothers proclaimed him a hero but were scolded by Laura. “The next boy what gets himself shot will see the whipping stick on their little behind. Ye hear me?”

  George and Sam swallowed hard and nodded.

  “I near had a spell when I heard your brother had hurt himself. He could’a been kilt. That’s not a thing to praise him for. Do you ken what I say? Georgie? Sammy?”

  “Yes’m.” They said in unison, properly chastised for idolizing their brother.

  Josh limped over. “I’m sorry too, Momma. I reckon I goaded ’em to make me feel big.”

  “Now get along, all of ye. Your poppa needs help with the livestock. He’s off to get us a hog in a bit, after feeding the cattle.”

  They ran off to the barn.

  “I swan. Those young’uns’ll be the death of me.” Laura talked to Gerta, who nodded as if she understood.

  “Now girls, they’re easy. Dress ’em up, give ’em a dolly and they play quiet-like. Ain’t that so, Gerta girl?” Laura tickled her and she laughed, giving Laura shivers of…what? Happiness? Was a child’s laughter happiness in the air? Gerta’s tinkling giggle seemed so.

  “Go play with Dolly.”

  “Dolly like Momma.” Gerta held up her doll for a kiss on Laura’s cheek.

  Laura cuddled the doll to her breast, then handed her back to Gerta, brushing hair off her cheek. “Why can’t boys be gentle like you?”

  “Genta? Me genta. Dolly like genta, too.” Gerta cuddled Dolly and ran off to the corner of the cabin where carved animals lay on the floor in her play area, and made Dolly a house with blocks.

  Laura sighed and resumed her cleaning of the cabin of all kinds of dirt the boys and James had tracked in from their work and hunting.

  A butchered hog showed up with James and the boys later that day.

  “She’s a nice fat one. The others do well. Two sows’re pregnant. We’ll have piglets in the spring.”

  Laura sighed in relief. Their hogs were producing well now, and she’d have meat for the winter.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to have good meat,” Josh said as he carried the heavy pieces of pork James had butchered into hams, roasts, and bacon.

  James helped Laura salt some of the pork in their barrel. They took the bacon cuts to their new smoke house.

  Laura put a roast on for supper, and they all ate like the hungry pioneers they were. Even little Gerta had two helpings of the pork.

  Lau
ra smiled on her family. Despite the boys being rambunctious, they were good workers. Sammy, Georgie, and Josh laughed around the table. James looked happier than she’d seen him since they moved, and it did her good to see it.

  “I reckon we’ll go to the apple bee up to Dixson’s orchard. We’ll have dried apples with our peaches, too, this winter.”

  The boys cheered, waking Permelia. Laura went to her to settle her down. She was getting big now, worrying her when she crawled toward the fireplace.

  Gerta left the table and patted the baby’s head. “Don’t cry, baby. Momma’s here.”

  James watched from the table, still eating. “Come back, Gerta, and finish your supper. Momma has Permelia in hand.”

  “Poppa.” Gerta ran back into his knees. He lifted her up and placed her on the bench at her supper trencher.

  The boys chattered nonstop about the apple bee.

  “I reckon y’all will go to the bee. Gerta and I’ll stay behind with Permelia. We got some work on the corn grinding. Did you chop firewood for us?”

  “Georgie and I will chop the firewood, Momma,” Josh said.

  “You boys be careful with that axe. I know your Poppa learned you the way to do it right, but you remember, and go slow. You can chop on the morrow. The next day you all can go with Poppa to the orchard.”

  Another cheer went up from all the boys.

  Banging came from the barn the next morning. Emma put on her woolen shawl and found Carrie working with planks left over from her father’s shed-building.

  Carrie’s homespun coat lay on the hay and she worked in shirt sleeves.

  “Put that coat on, sweeting. It’s cold out here.”

  Carrie looked up and smiled at Emma. “I got to sweating. I’ll put it on later.”

  “What are you building?”

  “A ladder. I reckon we could use one. But mostly we need it for the apple bee. Picking apples high up and such.”

  “Well, don’t climb too high. You worry me with your ways, just like your brother. Stubborn.”

  Carrie feigned a stunned face. “I always work with James. You know I’m careful.” She eyed Emma. “Are ye faring well?”

  “Aye. In my state, I think I worry more. You just have to take it. What would become of me if you were hurt?” Emma let her tears flow—she couldn’t help it. Little things set her off these days.

  “Oh, honey.” Carrie gathered her in her arms. “I know. I ken you fretting more carrying this young’un. I’ll be extra careful at the orchard. I won’t take chances or climb too high. I’ll let James and the other men do that.”

  Emma sniffled into her handkerchief. “I don’t want to be like this.”

  Carrie stroked her back and cooed into her hair.

  “I feel like baby Permelia. Bawling at the least thing.”

  “You come have fun with me at the apple bee. Blanton and Elizabeth will be there.”

  James trotted in on Napoleon carrying a bundle.

  “Good morn, brother.”

  “I brung something for ye.” He slid off the horse and handed them the heavy sack.

  Emma, embarrassed, wiped her face. She took the sack and peeked in. “Meat.”

  Carrie looked in. “You butchered.”

  “Laura wanted y’all to have some ham to salt and a roast for now.” He stepped back on Napoleon. “I could’a brung it on the morrow to the orchard, but I wanted y’all to have it now. We ain’t gonna share with other neighbors but the Conners.”

  Emma spied the other bundle on hanging off the pommel of his saddle.

  “We wanted to make sure they make it through the winter. After apples are done, we all, Blanton and I and the boys, will help him fix up that rundown cabin of his.”

  “I’ll help, too,” Carrie said.

  Emma looked at her. “You’ll be careful. Please.”

  With James watching them, Emma refrained from hugging Carrie to her.

  “Aye, Miss Fret. I’ll be careful there, too,” Carrie teased.

  On the morrow, Carrie and Emma took Emma’s small trap with Titan harnessed to it, and the ladder tied down on the back, to Dixson’s farm. Dixson met them and carried the ladder out to the orchard.

  Elizabeth took Emma’s arm and they went into the cabin where Elizabeth and Susannah were preparing the midday meal for the workers.

  The workers traipsed through the apple trees that were lined up like soldiers, their branches bent with red apples. Carrie didn’t climb, but picked lower-hanging fruit. A promise was a promise, even if Emma acted over-cautious. Fie on the fretting women around her!

  The work went swiftly, with Conner, James, Blanton, and Caleb on the ladders, tossing apples down into a wagon that Josh drove slowly through the trees.

  At midday, they stopped and wolfed down mutton stew.

  “I don’t believe the harvest is as good as last year. We had some dry, hot days in July.” Dixson ate with the other men inside the cabin.

  “How many wagons did you fill last fall?” James asked.

  “Upwards of five, if I remember rightly. We’ll do well to fill four this year.” Dixson finished eating and addressed the crew. “I figure as Squire, it’s my duty to set the date for Thanksgiving. How does next week sound?” He looked around to the crowd.

  James looked to Carrie and Emma. “I’ll get a couple more turkeys. We all can eat at our cabin.”

  “Good. Emma and I will contribute pumpkin pie from our garden.”

  Josh, George, and Sam grinned. “Pumpkin.”

  The apple bee wound down with a dance and the usual apple jack jug passed around. Carrie and Emma headed home with their share of the apples in a basket Susannah gave them. The small trap loaded with the ladder and the basket made for especially close quarters.

  They talked of the Thanksgiving feast to come on the way home.

  “Are you proud of me? I didn’t climb any ladders.” Carrie hugged Emma to her.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so skittish these days.”

  “Honey, I love you. You can be as skittish as you want. I’m taking it fine.”

  For the next few days, Carrie chopped firewood to lay by.

  The last days of November were windy and cold, the overcast sky like a gray blanket over the prairie. Together they worked diligently storing dried apples and salting the pork.

  On the morning of Thanksgiving Day, Mr. Wentz led a service at the meeting house in Locust Hill that all the pioneers attended.

  Conner stood when Wentz called for families to state their thanks. A small gasp rose in the church. “Dolly and me give a heap of thanks for all ye here. For fixing the cabin, for letting us work the grain and corn harvests. For…all ye done fer us. We…I didn’t deserve it. I ask forgiveness for any meanness I foisted on ye. I was not myself, I reckon, but that don’t matter. I had no right to speak to ye as I did. Or…to act like I did and I humble myself afore ye. We are mighty grateful to have ye as neighbors.” He slowly lowered onto the bench, hanging his head.

  Silence filled the meetinghouse.

  James stood. “We need each other out here in the harsh wilderness, Conner. Just don’t forget that.” He shuffled. “I reckon that’s all I gotta say.”

  Others then stood to claim their gratefulness for each other, for the harvest, for children, and for wives.

  Emma wiped tears. Carrie looked on her fondly.

  On the way out of the Thanksgiving service, Conner and Dolly approached Emma and Carrie.

  Conner squashed his hat between his hands. “I want to say again how sorry I am for attacking ye both. Since Pet died my moods came and went. I’d get awful mad at little things, Dolly can tell ye. Drinking piled on the misery. I’ve given it up, the corn liquor, I want ye to know. And I go and talk to Mr. Wentz from time to time. He keeps me settled, on the right path. Helps me see things ain’t so bad. Dolly and me have had our troubles, but I had no cause to take it out on y’all. It was the lowest I ever got, that night. I pray daily for strength to bear what the Good Lord give me
and Dolly. I ain’t the only one to have a wife and young’uns die. I come to accept God’s help now. It’ll never happen again. I am working on being a new man, the man I was afore all this misery began. And I sorely regret all I done to you.”

  Carrie nodded. “Mr. Wentz is a good man. He’ll set you straight, Conner. I’m glad you’re working toward God.”

  They traded silent nods and the Conners went on their way.

  Carrie and Emma looked at each other. There was nothing to say. Conner looked neater now, less disheveled, and had brighter eyes and rosy cheeks. Dolly, too, looked less sad. Carrie and Emma went home and prepared for the feast.

  Emma peeled, seeded, and quartered small pumpkins from the cellar. She toasted the seeds over the fire, salted them, and put them in a crock for the winter. She prepared a pie crust and put cooked pumpkin with some spices in it, then baked it in an iron pot covered with hot coals.

  “Be careful of that pie,” Emma admonished Carrie, who carried it to the trap.

  “Aye, honey.” Carrie felt she kept agreeing to whatever her mate asked of her. She wondered if she was getting to be placid in the relationship, but shrugged off the thought. Emma would surely come back to being her sweet self after this babe was born. Or mayhap the stress of a young’un would bring another type of fretting and Emma would never return to the charming woman she’d fallen in love with. It vexed her mind, but she didn’t let Emma see her thoughts. For now, she planned to be agreeable and not give Emma anything to turn her mood sour before they arrived at her stepbrother’s.

  The aroma of turkey roasting over the coals filled the air in James and Laura’s cabin. Josh and George peeled sweet potatoes at the table. Sam and Gerta played in the corner.

  Laura took a peek into the pot. “Pumpkin pie. It looks just fine and smells even better. Did you use maple sugar?”

  “Aye. Moose still has a store of it and we traded eggs last week.”

  “Yum,” Josh and George said, stretching up to eye the dark orange pie.

  Sam ran over to them and hugged them each, then danced around excitedly. “We’re having turkey and gravy. And Momma made special biscuits. Poppa says we can have all we want.”