by Vivi Holt
Returning to the first room, she set the lantern back on the table. The children had explored the house, touching everything, picking it up, turning it over and exclaiming with excitement over it all. “May we go outside, Ma?” asked Sarah, standing on tiptoe, her eyes bright.
“Yes, but stay close. I’ll be calling for you shortly.”
They piled outside with whoops and hollers, and she couldn’t help smiling at their enthusiasm. At least they were happy to be there. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad. She’d been concerned she might be endangering them by bringing them to the edge of civilization, but now that they were here, it wasn’t so frightening as she’d imagined.
Kurt pushed through the door, lugging a trunk with him. He hurried into the bedroom, set it on the floor, then came back out scratching his head. “Not sure where we’ll put all this luggage,” he said with a grin.
She grimaced. “Yes, we may have packed too much.”
“Not what you were expecting?” he asked, leaning on the kitchen table, his eyes on her.
Her cheeks blazed under his scrutiny. “I honestly didn’t know what to expect.”
“I wasn’t prepared for five …”
“I know. I’m sorry, I should have told you right away.” She felt her throat tightening.
He gently rested a hand on her arm. “Never mind. There’s nothing for it now. I just hope you don’t mind things being a little … cozy.” He laughed, soft and low.
Her heart leaped. She felt like she might burst into tears. “Thank you.” With a cough to mask her strangled voice, she turned away. “What shall we have for supper?”
“There’s a root cellar – I’ll show you.” He grabbed an iron ring in the floor beside the kitchen table and pulled, opening a trapdoor. “There. Help yourself to anything you need. I’m going to finish unloading the luggage.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
He smiled and left.
Holly set her hands on her hips, looking down into the root cellar. She picked up the lantern and selected two bowls, then carried them down the ladder in the opening, stepping carefully backwards. When her foot hit solid earth, she turned and raised the lantern to eye level to look around. The cellar was small but functional, with timber walls and ceiling and a musty odor. It also wasn’t quite high enough to stand in – she had to duck her head to move around as she scanned the stacks of food.
There was a pile of what looked to be smoked meat wrapped neatly in brown paper squares. Potatoes, yams and pumpkins were piled against the far end of the space, and onions hung in bunches from the ceiling. A shelf held salt pork, sugar, molasses, cans of baked beans, salt and other spices, all store bought. Against the wall to her right were sacks of flour, oats and cornmeal with WICHITA WESTERN stenciled on them – the promised bounty from his brother’s mill.
It was only the middle of fall, but it looked as if Kurt had gathered enough food to last through the winter months. Though maybe not enough for seven. She’d have to take stock and make sure there was plenty for them to eat. And she looked forward to getting started on the vegetable garden – she’d never had one before. Her parents hadn’t bothered, and there’d been no need once she was married. But she truly enjoyed gardening, and the idea that she could provide for her children by growing food filled her with a sense of satisfaction.
Holly opened a sack of cornmeal and scooped a good portion into one bowl, sliced some salt pork into the other and grabbed the jar of molasses before climbing back up the ladder. Time to make her first supper in their new home.
Kurt rubbed Sam’s back with a cloth, then used the curry brush to groom him until his coat shone. Sam chewed contentedly on the corn in his feed box. Kurt talked to him all the while, a habit of his – it made him feel less lonely and seemed to soothe them as well. He chattered about the trip to town and the wedding, and his worries about all those mouths to feed.
He stopped all of a sudden as a thought crossed his mind: he wasn’t alone anymore. He had an entire family with him now in that tiny cottage he’d built. He shivered, then smiled. Seeing all those children threw him at first. But now, once he’d mulled a little over just what would be required to support a family that size, he’d come to terms with it. After all, he’d dreamed of having a large family – it was just happening sooner than he’d expected. And all at once.
They’d have to expand the garden, that was certain. He’d have to hunt a little more frequently, and dip into his savings for clothes and other supplies. But otherwise, he should be able to continue on as planned. And once he got them into the town school, they’d be able to walk to the schoolhouse together, since it was only a mile away through reasonably flat land. Everything would work out just fine.
Holly … was another matter entirely. He still hadn’t been able to settle his nerves about her, even though she seemed to have warmed to him a little. In fact, he was anxious about finishing the chores and going inside. Scared to go into his own house – what was wrong with him? That was no way for a man to live. He scowled, took a quick breath, set the curry brush back on the shelf in the barn and slapped Sam on the rump. “See you tomorrow, old boy.”
Badger trotted along at his heels as he walked toward the cabin, his heart in his throat. He could smell supper cooking even before he opened the front door, and it brought a smile to his face. When he stepped inside, the happy sounds of laughing children met him and he paused a moment before pulling off his boots and hanging his hat on a peg by the door. “Evening, everyone,” he called, then hurried into the bedroom to wash up in the basin.
When he returned to the front room, Holly was dishing corn cakes with salt pork and molasses onto plates. She set five of them along the kitchen table, then two more on the small round table he used for writing, reading or playing cards. There weren’t enough chairs to go around, but the children happily stood at the kitchen table, waiting patiently to begin eating.
He sat in his chair at the little table. “Thank you. This smells delicious.”
Her cheeks flushed pink under his praise. “You’re most welcome. I hope it is.” She sat across from him and bowed her head.
Kurt followed her example and said a blessing. While he prayed, he let himself glance at the children. Five little heads bowed, five pairs of eyes closed. Yes indeed, everything would work out just fine.
Kurt crossed his ankles, watching the flames in the fireplace leap and snap. The fire would burn out soon and it would be time for bed. He tapped out his pipe in the ashtray, set it down and stood with a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. He wandered into the bedroom, where Holly and the children were reading and drawing. Time to figure out sleeping arrangements.
He pulled a straw tick out from beneath the single bed. He’d made two of them before he’d fetched Holly and the children from the train station – the other was leaning up against the wall. He’d planned on making more, but hadn’t had time. They were extra large, though – he hoped the children would all fit. He dragged one, then the other, out to the front room. If he’d set them in the bedroom, they’d take up all the floor space, and the only way to get to the bed would be to crawl over them.
Besides, it being their wedding night, he figured he and Holly would want some privacy.
Holly spoke behind him. “Would you like me to make up the beds?”
He faced her, his cheeks burning. “Yes, please. I’m afraid I don’t have much …”
“I brought linens and blankets with me, since I wasn’t sure what you’d have.”
He exhaled with relief. “Good. I thought …”
“You should take the bed – it’s your house. I’ll sleep on the floor with the children.” She rested a hand on his arm.
He glanced at her hand, feeling a spark of electricity run through him at her touch even as disappointment rose. “Yes, well … if that’s what you’d like. I’ll build some bunks when I get a chance. I’d already planned on adding a room in the spring. Does that suit you?”
She s
eemed surprised that he’d ask her opinion, then recovered her composure and murmured approval.
By the time he’d banked the fire, pulled in the latch key and readied himself for bed, Holly had finished making up the beds. The children were dressed in their nightgowns, the girls with nightcaps and their hair twisted into curls fastened with rags. Holly wore a nightgown as well, and her hair hung loose about her shoulders like a golden halo. He nervously hurried to his bed.
“Good night, Kurt,” said Holly. Her words were echoed by a chorus of children’s voices.
He nodded. “Goodnight, Holly. Good night, children.”
He settled into his bed, pulling the covers up under his chin. Holly turned down the lamp in the other room, throwing it into darkness. The only sound was the rustle of the ticks as someone rolled over, a chorus of crickets and the bellow of the herd outside.
“Can we have a story please, Ma?” asked a small voice in the darkness.
“Yes, Eleanor,” replied Holly. Then she began to speak, weaving a tale of an Indian woman and her papoose who were separated from their village and lost on the plains of the great prairie. They encountered an eagle, escaped a pack of hungry wolves and endured hardships of all kinds before finally being reunited with their family.
Kurt lay still in the night, his hands behind his head, his eyes fixed on the darkness, listening to her silken voice. The children seemed mesmerized by her words and soon he heard their breathing deepen as one by one they fell asleep on their freshly-made beds. And soon Kurt’s eyes drifted shut as well.
Holly woke up just after sunrise, the small house bathed in amber light. Kurt was nowhere to be seen. Probably doing chores outside – he’d mentioned the night before that he had work to do morning and night. She had a lot to learn about what it meant to be a rancher. She dressed quickly and hurried to prepare breakfast.
By the time she had bread and bacon frying in a pan, the children were all awake. Tripp wandered over to the kitchen table, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Good morning, Tripp. How did you sleep?”
He grunted, sat on the floor and rested his chin in his hands.
Holly pulled the crisp bacon from the pan with a fork, setting it on a tin plate. “Is something bothering you?”
“I want to go home.”
She frowned. “Well, this is home now.”
His eyes narrowed. “You never asked me if I wanted to move here. Why do you get to make the decisions about our life? Father would never have made us move here.” His voice was tight and full of pain.
“I thought you were excited about living on a ranch?” She flipped the bread over in the pan.
“No, Eddie and the girls are. I never said I was. And you didn’t ask.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Tripp. But I’m the adult and I have to make decisions for our family. If you just give it a chance, I think you’ll love it here. There are horses and cattle and so many things to explore. And if you ask him, I bet Kurt will even teach you to hunt.”
“I’ll never ask him!” shouted Tripp.
Holly took a step back, her eyes wide. What had gotten into him? “Tripp Bristol!”
“He’s not my father. You shouldn’t have married him. I’m the man of the house, you said so yourself. I would have gotten a job to support us!” He sobbed and ran from the cabin, slamming the front door behind him.
Holly watched him leave, her mouth open and throat tightening. She had no idea he felt that way. He was only ten, but he seemed to have taken the weight of the world onto his small shoulders.
Kurt stepped inside a minute later, stamping his boots on the mat by the door. “Is the boy all right?” he asked.
She wasn’t sure what to say. “He’s … just homesick, I think.”
He half-smiled. “That’s to be expected, I suppose.”
Holly nodded and distributed bacon and bread onto the plates on the kitchen table. “Breakfast is ready,” she said.
Holly raised a hand to shade her eyes from the sun’s glare and studied the small patch of garden Kurt had marked off behind the house. There was plenty of space to expand. She walked around the square of land, calculating how much digging she’d need to do to grow the extra food they’d need.
She wanted to plant corn, beans, squash, more potatoes, tomatoes and carrots. Kurt assured her they could buy seed for everything she needed in town. He planned on going in a day or so to make some purchases, so she was putting together a list of things she wanted him to bring back.
Her gaze fell on the barn, and she saw Tripp seated against the side, his legs stretched out in front of him, a forlorn look on his face. Her heart broke for her eldest child. He’d always been so sure of himself, so headstrong and certain about what he wanted. She hated to see him downcast.
Just as she was about to go to him, Kurt emerged from the barn, stopped when he saw Tripp and put his hands on his hips. He said something, and Tripp stood to his feet and clenched his fists at his sides. She picked up her skirts and hurried toward them.
Kurt said something else to Tripp, pointed at the barn and turned away. As he did, Tripp rushed him, kicked him in the shins, then ran off as Kurt shouted. “Tripp!” Holly cried in dismay, but it was no use. He was gone.
She reached Kurt, gasping for breath. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what he was thinking.”
Kurt, eyes narrowed, shook his head. “Never mind. I just asked him if he wanted to try riding one of the horses. I’m going out to check on the herd, and thought he might like to join me.” He paused before adding, “The boy’s angry about something, that’s for sure.”
Holly grimaced. “He’s upset about us coming here. I didn’t know until today – he kept quiet up until now. Are you hurt?”
He chuckled. “No, I’m not hurt. It’s fine, I understand. I’d probably be sore myself if I were in his shoes.”
“He just needs some time,” said Holly, though she wasn’t sure that was true.
“Uh-huh.” Kurt didn’t look convinced either.
“You’re not going to …” She choked on the words.
“Turn him over my knee? No, I won’t hit the boy. He’s doing his best to figure things out – I guess I’ll leave him to it.” He nodded and turned to head back to the barn. “I’ll ride out to check on the herd alone, I guess,” he chuckled.
Holly sighed in relief and ran her hands over her hair, feeling her throat tighten as he walked away. This was a fine change from Rodney’s iron discipline. “Thank you so much,” she called after him.
6
With a gentle shake, Holly woke Eleanor, Heather and Sarah where they lay on their mattress, still covered in the thick blanket she’d brought with her from New York. She smiled at their sleepy faces and tickled beneath Heather’s chin. “Time to rise and shine!” she sang.
“Good morning, Ma,” croaked Sarah, rubbing her blue eyes with closed fists.
“Good morning, my sweet little cherubs. It’s time to get up – we’re going to church.” Holly had never been so excited about going to church before, but spending an entire week secluded on a small ranch made her crave a crowd. She was looking forward to seeing the town again, this time without a ball of anxiety in her gut. And she hoped she’d meet some other women she could befriend. Perhaps the children would make friends as well.
She pulled the makeshift drapes back from the window. She’d hung a sheet over the square hole in the wall and planned to sew something more permanent as soon as Kurt made that trip to the mercantile he’d been promising since she arrived.
The girls sat up straight, blinking at the bright morning sunshine. Heather made her way into the bedroom. “What will I wear, Ma?” she asked, pulling a trunk out from where it had been stowed under the bed and peering inside.
“How about your blue poplin?” suggested Holly, standing with a groan and rubbing her knees.
“What’s wrong, Ma?” asked Eleanor, her eyes full of concern.
“Oh, nothing, my dear. I’m just getting old and it hurts to si
t on the floor too long.” She grimaced, then laughed out loud.
They dressed quickly. Holly wet each of the girls’ hair and parted it down the middle, braiding it into two long braids on either side of their parts. Then, she helped the boys get dressed and wet and combed their hair. By the time she was done, Kurt had set out bread and milk for breakfast, having dressed and groomed before anyone else woke. Now he sat at the kitchen table, reading from the Bible he kept on the mantel. “Ready?” he asked, looking up.
“Yes, thank you.” Everyone ate quietly, and after the children finished Sarah wiped their dishes clean and stacked them back in place under the kitchen table.
Holly ate more slowly. “I’ll take a piece of bread with me in the wagon,” she said when she noticed everyone else was done.
“No need,” Kurt responded. “Take your time eating your meal. I’ll bring the wagon around front and load everyone in. There’s coffee in the pot as well.”
Her eyebrows arched in surprise. “Thank you, Kurt.” She buttered a piece of bread and poured a cup of coffee, then sat at the kitchen table again. By the time she’d finished and wiped her plate clean, Kurt had finished packing all the children into the wagon. She rinsed out her cup, then picked up the picnic basket she’d packed the previous night and left beneath the table. They’d eat a picnic lunch on the way home from church.
The morning was fine, without a cloud in the sky. A sparrow called, followed by the wistful song of a meadowlark. The children, seated on bales of fresh hay, listened in delight, challenging each other to find the birds in the trees that lined the trail along the creek bank on Kurt’s ranch.
Holly let her gaze wander over the landscape, marveling at the beauty of the place. Cottonwoods, poplars and sycamores dotted the pastures. Beyond the creek there were birch and elm then an expanse of waving prairie grasses that swept to the horizon. Leaves of various hues carpeted the earth beneath the trees, and the golden sunrise lit them up so it looked as if the ground was on fire.