“Promise me. Say the words, Jackson.”
“I promise.”
She watched Jackson climb on top of his horse. “I love you, Jack,” she said, moving forward for another kiss.
Jackson leaned down and kissed her once more. He gave her a wink, sitting tall once more in the saddle and tugged the horse’s reins, moving it towards the front of the group.
“Attention! Attention, please!” Pastor Collins scrambled onto the back of the wagon. He lifted his lantern, shining the light on the small crowd in the park. “Before our men go on this hunt, I think it prudent if we say a prayer of blessing.” He cleared his throat. The men shifted and the women lowered their heads.
Heather closed her eyes as the Pastor’s voice boomed over the crowd. When he was done, she heard the chorus of amens go through the crowd. Pastor Collins jumped out of the wagon and moved to where his sister, Beatrice was standing. He whispered something in her ear and Heather could see her nod.
She gave a little sigh and turned her attention back to Jackson.
“Move out!” he called to the men.
The women had gathered in the dark and Heather could hear the soft sniffles. She was used to Jackson leaving for a few days to either go hunting, or to track predators. But he was never gone for more than one or two days at the most.
The wagons slowly lurched forward and followed the group of men on horseback. As they made their way down the first block, Heather ran into the street and waved. She saw Jackson shift in his saddle and lift his hand to her.
She continued to wave until she couldn’t see the horses anymore. Lifting her lantern, she strained her eyes as she watched the last wagon disappear around the depot and onto the wooden ferry.
She knew the men would be safe. Jackson was an excellent tracker and Red Hawk knew the Plains better than anyone. Why then did she have a foreboding rise in her belly? She placed her hand against her stomach, willing the feelings to disappear. Jackson and Red Hawk had gone hunting many times before. Why was this time different?
Heather thought it was because they were responsible for all the men in the group. Many had never hunted before and Heather was sure there were several that hadn’t fired a rifle before either. She felt an arm reach around her shoulders, and she turned her head to see Millie Reed standing next to her. Millie had tears in her eyes. Her husband raised horses and was an excellent shot. It made sense that he joined the men on the hunt.
“I guess that’s it,” Millie said, staring into the dark. She cleared her throat. “I’m not going to sleep at all, so how about you come back to the house for a cup of coffee? You can head home in the morning.”
Heather nodded and allowed Millie to lead her back to a waiting buggy. Heather placed her lantern on the hook at the front of the buggy before climbing onto the hard, wooden seat. Millie climbed in next to her and spread a blanket over their laps. She picked up the reins and gave the horse a light slap on the rump.
The crowd was dissipating.
“I guess Autumn is really here,” Heather mused, rubbing her hands over her arms.
Millie laughed. She had a musical laugh that brought joy to everyone around her. “I know you are worried when you start talking about the weather.”
Heather chuckled. “I sometimes talk about the weather.” She fingered the blanket that was covering their legs. It was a wool covering that had been knitted with tight stitches. “When the weather needs to be talked about. Where did this blanket come from? It is very warm.”
“Altar knitted it. I saw it and absolutely had to have one. She did a beautiful job.”
Altar Pennington was known for her handiwork with thread and fabrics. She would sometimes sell her creations at the mercantile. Mr. Talley made sure that she got a fair price for her crafts. Heather fingered the edge of the blanket, the wool soothing to her fingers.
“It is beautiful.”
“I’m having her make scarfs for all the children for Christmas. I thought they would make nice gifts.”
“Will she have time to make twelve of them?”
“Thirteen. Mary Rose started school this year.” Mary Rose was Millie’s and George’s only daughter. Little Mary Rose was born ten months after they arrived in Last Chance.
“I didn’t realize she was old enough.”
“She’s four already. They grow so quickly.”
Millie chatted as they rode back to her house in the dark. Heather darted her eyes in the dark looking for the lanterns of the other wives as they traveled back home. As they pulled into Millie’s ranch, the sounds of a lone owl could be heard, its lonesome call echoing the feeling in Heather’s heart.
Chapter Three
September 1, 1878
Heather counted the days on her fingers. The men had been gone for five days. By now, they should be packing up and be on their way back to town. The time passed quickly, but Heather didn’t sleep well without her husband next to her. She prayed he would return soon. Having to make her rounds, in addition to Jackson’s chores and the regular household duties was making her a bit grouchy.
She’d wake up and take care of the farm animals—a milking cow, several chickens, and the few animals they had purchased for the butcher shop. Normally she had help on their small farm, but even Luke Keegan, their only ranch hand, went on the hunt. Luke lived with his widowed mother, younger brother and two younger sisters in town. Jackson didn’t want Luke to go on the hunt, but he insisted.
A man should provide for his family, Luke said.
Once Heather was done taking care of the homestead, she’d then start her rounds, visiting the expectant mothers around town. At some point during the day, she’d stop by the butcher shop and tend the fire in the smokehouse. She’d check the cure of the meat just as Jackson had taught her. She used a piece of hollow tube to poke into the meat and see how far the smoke ring went from the edge.
If everything looked good, she would remove that piece of meat and place in an interior room to cool. Then she’d add a few pieces of wet wood to the fire to continue smoking the rest of the meat.
The smoked hams would need to cool for at least two days before they were wrapped in cheesecloth and set to hang for at least three months. They’d be ready just in time for Christmas. She’d then rotate the meat that was salt curing and make sure that the salt wasn’t getting wet, which would cause the meat to spoil.
Once she had checked on the shop, she would make any additional rounds in the afternoon and get home in time to take care of the animals in the evening.
Heather rubbed her eyes. She blamed her sour mood on lack of sleep. Jackson promised he’d be home within a week. That gave her two more days alone. She could live with two days. She pulled her buggy in front of Lauren Hale’s house. A young mother, she was expecting her first child and had all the fears that went with it.
Heather climbed out of the buggy and tied her horse to the post in front of the house. Grabbing her medical bag, and an old leather satchel that Dr. Woods gave her, she climbed the porch to Lauren’s door. Lauren must have been waiting for her, as the door opened before Heather could knock.
“I made some tea,” Lauren said, stepping outside. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Feels like the temperature is dropping.”
“Let’s get you inside,” Heather said, guiding the young mother back into her home. “How have you been feeling?”
Lauren wasn’t due until January; she was just beginning to show in the belly. “I’m rather tired.”
“That’s to be expected.” Heather went to the stove and placed her hand close to the iron pot that was steaming. She grabbed two cups from above the stove and placed them on the table where Lauren was sitting. “Any sickness?”
“Usually in the afternoon.”
“It is different for everyone. Have you been eating?” Heather picked up the teapot and gave it a swirl before pouring the amber brew into the cups. She put the pot down and pushed a cup towards Lauren. Lauren pulled her shawl tighter aroun
d her shoulders.
Lauren Hale was a pretty girl. Heather knew Lauren was a society girl in Philadelphia, where her family lived. Unfortunately, she never fully adapted to the harsh conditions out west. The weather and harsh life had taken a toll on the young woman. Her dark hair was neatly braided and pinned around her head. Her skin was pale with a slight blush on her cheeks and lips. She looked at Heather with soft brown eyes surrounded by long lashes. Heather could tell Lauren had been crying.
“I’ve been eating some. It appears soup is the only thing I can keep down right now.”
“What kind of soup?” Heather asked, looking around the room as she sipped her tea. Lauren’s husband had done everything he could to make the house look like what Lauren would be used to, but she still didn’t appear happy. Heather was worried because melancholy wasn’t good for the baby.
“We have some leftover vegetables from last year, and I purchased a chicken from Mrs. Harvey.” Lauren gave a sigh. “I think I’ve boiled all the flavor from the bones.”
“I think there are some soup bones at the butcher shop. I need to go over there and check the fire. I’ll drop one off on my way back home.”
“You don’t have to do that. I don’t have any money to pay you. I wish Jonah had never left.” Lauren placed her head in her hands and began to cry.
Heather leaned over the table and put her hand on Lauren’s arm. “Now, don’t you worry about that. Consider it part of my fee for making sure that baby is born as healthy as possible.”
“It’s not that,” Lauren wailed.
“Then what is it?”
“I know Jonah went to find food for the winter. I’ve just never been alone before.”
Heather straightened in her chair. “I know, Lauren, but the men will be back soon, and you won’t be alone again.”
“It isn’t just that. We had a fight before he left. I didn’t want him to go on the hunt, and my last words to him were so hurtful and ugly.” Heather shifted. She didn’t want to pry, but there was no need as Lauren continued. “I told him he was a terrible husband that couldn’t provide for me and that I’d be headed back to Philadelphia before he returned.”
“Oh Lauren,” Heather said. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she simply refilled Lauren’s empty cup.
“I’m afraid I’ll never see him again,” she said, her shaking hands picking up the cup and taking a sip. “I didn’t tell him how much I really love him.”
Heather gave a slight smile. “I’m sure that he will be more than delighted to hear the words once he gets home. Then you can celebrate the baby.” Heather pointed to Lauren’s slightly round belly, “who looks like he or she is growing. You are larger than the last time I was here.”
Lauren instinctively placed her hand over her belly. “I had to let my dress out. I still have five months to go. I’m going to have to make a whole new wardrobe.”
Heather chucked, standing. “That sounds like it might be the best part.” She picked up her bag and looked at Lauren. “Now, why don’t I check how the little one is doing, and we can talk about the men coming home.”
Lauren nodded and pushed her cup away before getting up to walk towards the sitting room. Heather followed with her bag in hand. Lauren laid down on the settee and smoothed her dress, her belly a round lump protruding from beneath her shirt waist.
Lauren gave a little groan and rolled on the settee. “Every time I lay down, I swear there are acrobatics going on in my belly.”
“Are you having pains?” Concern was evident in Heather’s voice.
Lauren shook her head. “Just twinges.”
Heather pulled a chair next to the settee and took a string from her bag. She pulled it tight over Lauren’s belly and then held the string against a measuring stick. “The baby is growing right on schedule,” Heather grinned. She pulled out a stethoscope from her bag. She was grateful Doc Woods had a spare.
She placed the horn against Lauren’s belly and placed the earpieces to her ear. She smiled at Lauren. “The baby sounds perfect.”
“He. Jonah thinks the baby is a he.”
“Well then,” Heather agreed. “He sounds perfect.”
“I wish I could listen to him.”
Heather moved the horn at the end of the stethoscope around on Lauren’s belly, trying to gauge a distance where Lauren could hear. “You’ll need to lean forward a bit.” She helped Lauren sit up slightly on the settee and then Heather handed her the earpiece. Lauren placed them in her ears and her eyes went wide.
“It sounds like it is whooshing.” Tears started rolling down Lauren’s cheeks. She listened for a few more minutes before handing the stethoscope back to Heather. “Thank you. I could never have imagined what that sounded like!”
Heather tucked the stethoscope in her bag and pulled out a small pouch, handing it to Lauren. “This is some dry mint. It should help with the nausea.” She stood and offered her hand to assist Lauren from the settee. “I’ll be back to check on you next week, but if you need anything, just send someone to get me.”
“Thank you,” Lauren said, escorting Heather to the door. “I feel in better spirits now.”
Heather gave Lauren a quick hug. “I’m glad. I have to stop by the butcher shop and check the fire, but I’ll bring you a bone before I head to see Charity Green.”
“I hate accepting charity,” Lauren said.
Heather shook her head. “It isn’t charity. Folks need to look out for each other.” She stepped out of the house and a gust of wind caught her skirt. “I don’t remember it being so windy when I left.”
“Or cold,” Lauren said. “do you need a blanket?”
“I have one in the buggy. I’ll leave the bone by the door in case you decide to lay down.” She gave Lauren a little wave and headed to her buggy. Her horse seemed agitated. “What’s up, boy?” she said, stroking the horse’s neck. The horse calmed slightly under Heather’s touch but scraped his hoof against the dirt road. “Alright,” she soothed. “We’ll get going.”
Pulling her jacket tighter around her, she placed her medical bag inside the buggy. Lauren was correct. It wasn’t this cold when she left home.
She climbed in the buggy and leaned over to grab a blanket from underneath the seat. It was rough wool, nothing like the blanket that Millie had in her buggy. Maybe Heather would ask Altar to make a lap blanket the next time she saw the woman in town.
Placing the rough cover on her lap, she gave a little slap of the reins, guiding the horse down the row of houses towards the butcher shop.
As she passed the mercantile, she saw Altar struggling with the door. The woman’s arms were filled with knitted blankets and she held a bag with yarn hanging over the side.
Heather gave her a wave as she continued down to Stagecoach Road.
She could see the river between the buildings when she stopped at the depot. The ferry was on the other side, rocking in the turbulent water. She didn’t recall ever seeing the water so choppy before.
She dismissed her thoughts about the river as she turned at the livery and pulled into the alley that ran between the sheriff’s house and the butcher shop. The light scent of cottonwood smoke filled the air, along with the hardier scent of hickory wood.
Jackson taught her to use the cottonwood to extend the burning of whatever wood they were using to smoke the meat. One chunk of wet hardwood, surrounded by a pile of the softer cottonwood, would keep the smoke billowing in the night.
It didn’t take long to check the fire. It had gone down quite a bit, so Heather grabbed some of the wet wood from a bucket and tossed it in the cast iron oven and then laid several chunks of cottonwood around the embers. The smoke came billowing from the mouth of the oven, causing Heather to cough. She waved her hand trying to dissipate the smoke.
Then she heard it. It sounded like a whistling in the distance. She turned and looked at the sky. The clouds were dark in the distance and it looked like a storm was approaching. It must be over Grand Platte and would probably make
its way towards Last Chance inside of an hour. She needed to work quickly. One thing Heather hated was being caught in the rain.
There wasn’t time to check the meat. It would have to be fine until she could return after the storm. Grabbing a few more wet chunks of wood, she tossed them inside the stove and closed the door. The wet wood would take longer to burn, so she would be good at least until the next morning.
Racing inside the shop she grabbed a sack of meat bones and an extra bag. She’d just transfer one to the linen sack for Lauren.
Wasting no time, she climbed into the buggy and whistled to her horse. The clouds in the distance appeared to be moving faster. She raced around the backside of town, approaching Lauren’s house from the other direction.
The wind was picking up.
Lauren must have seen Heather approach as she raced down the steps when Heather’s buggy came into view.
“Looks like a bad storm,” she called, grabbing the harness as Heather slowed down.
“Came out of nowhere,” Heather agreed. The temperature was dropping. She willed her cold fingers to work as she untied the linen bags containing the meat bones. Picking out the largest one, she transferred it to the second sack and handed it to Lauren. “That should keep you set. I’ll be back next week to check on you unless you need me before.”
The wind was whistling louder.
“Do you want to come in?” Lauren asked. “You can wait out the storm.”
Heather shook her head. “I need to get home to my livestock. We better hurry.” She gave a little wave and slapped the reins, urging the horse forward. As she arrived back to Main Street, she peered towards the East. The sky was darker, as the sun disappeared behind the clouds, casting a nighttime glow to the town.
Heather looked ahead at the water between the warehouses. The waves on the river had increased, crashing against each other as the wind picked them up. I might not have time to get home, she thought.
Glancing once more at the impending storm, her breath hitched in her throat as she realized it wasn’t rain headed towards Last Chance! It was a wall of white.
The Blizzard Brides Page 2