Читать книгу Dakota Father - Linda Ford - Страница 9

Buffalo Hollow, Dakota Territory, 1884

Nineteen-year-old Jenny Archibald spared a moment to dab at her forehead. If only she could escape the heat sucking at her pores and driving two-year-old Meggie to fretfulness. Jenny sensed the annoyance of those who shared the passenger rail car, cooped up in the same hot box as she and Meggie and having to endure the fitful cries of a child.

She pulled a clean cloth from the valise at her feet and spread it over the leather seat across from her. “Meggie, lie down and I’ll fan you.” They’d both be considerably cooler if Meggie didn’t clutch at her neck and struggle in her arms.

Meggie whined a protest but allowed Jenny to put her down and, as she promised, Jenny waved over the child the book she had hoped to read on the trip. She’d naively thought Meggie would sleep the entire way from Center City, Ohio, or be happy to stare out the window at the passing scenery.

After a few minutes of fussing, Meg stuck two fingers in her mouth and her eyelids lowered. Jenny let out a sigh of relief. And hid a smile as the other occupants let out echoing sighs.

She glanced about the car. Apart from a withered old lady mumbling in the far seat, Jenny was the only woman aboard. Across the aisle sat two men who seemed to be business associates. They had persevered in wearing their suit coats for the first hour of the trip but now had shed them and waved paper before their faces trying to cool themselves.

Further along, a cowboy hunched over, his legs stretched out beside the seat in front of him. He spared her a sharp look then pulled his hat low and let his chin fall to his chest.

Jenny told herself she would not look at the man who sat across from the old lady. She’d been aware of him since he joined them several stops back—dressed in black, with black hair, and black eyes that seemed to see everything.

Pa was right when he said to her, “Pepper, you must learn to restrain your impulses. Think before you leap.”

Only it wasn’t that she exactly jumped at the sight of the man. Or the thought of him sitting there so calm and self-contained. More like her heart did a funny little jerk and her eyes jolted to him and away as if controlled by a power beyond her mind.

Like now. Despite her best intentions, she glanced at him. He watched her, his eyes bottomless. Her breath caught in a pool of heat somewhere behind her heart and she couldn’t look away.

It took Meggie’s wail to free her from his intense stare.

“Mama. I want Mama.”

Jenny’s heart ached for this child. How could she begin to comprehend the loss of both parents? As Lena and Mark lay dying of the raging fever that had taken so many lives Jenny promised them she would see their child delivered to Lena’s brother and his wife and stay long enough to see her settled.

She did her best to soothe Meggie and fan her without resorting to picking her up.

The men across the aisle sighed. One muttered loudly enough for the whole car to hear. “You’d think people would know enough to teach their children how to behave in public.”

Jenny stung under the unfair criticism. Meggie wasn’t her child but even if she had been, the child could be excused her crankiness. No doubt she felt the heat even more than the rest of them.

If only she could find some cool refreshing water for her. She’d tasted the water from the jug at the back. It was hot and smelled funny. All she needed was for Meg to take sick. But even that inadequate supply had disappeared a short time ago.

The conductor assured her they would soon reach Buffalo Hollow where she could find fresh water before the next stage of her journey.

The muttering of the old woman increased in volume. She was clearly annoyed with Meggie’s fussing. The slouching cowboy sat up straight, pushed his hat back and fixed Jenny with a belligerent look.

“Needs a good whupping.”

Tears stung the back of Jenny’s eyes. She blinked them back, tossed her head and pursed her lips. She would not let their comments affect her.

“Leave her be. The kid’s as hot and cranky as the rest of us.” The low words from the black-clad man made Jenny’s tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. If only she could find a drink.

She glanced at the speaker, again felt that funny sensation deep in her heart. Knowing her feelings were spilling from her eyes, she ducked her head.

Guilt stung her ears. She’d promised Pa to return as quickly as she could, promised she would then hear Ted’s offer of marriage. It was only a formality. Ma and Pa both highly approved of Ted Rusk who worked with Pa in the store. When Jenny protested she didn’t feel like settling down despite her age, Ma cautioned, “Jenny, you must learn to think with your head not your heart.”

“Ted is steady,” Pa said. “He’ll settle you down.”

They knew what was best for her. And didn’t the scripture instruct her to honor her father and mother? She intended to obey God’s word. Didn’t intend to follow her foolish heart into any more disasters.

Both parents had given cautious consent to her plan to take Meggie to Lena’s family. No doubt they figured this adventure would get her restlessness out of her system.

She hoped it would, that she’d be ready to take her role as Ted’s wife and partner as she intended to. Having given her word, she would fulfill it. Her word was her bond. She would learn to still the restless voice whispering from the dark corners of her imagination. She knew too well the risks of listening to that voice and would never again do so.

Meggie wouldn’t settle and begged to be held. They were both sticky with heat but Jenny gathered the baby in her arms and rocked her, crooning soothing sounds which did little to ease Meggie’s fussing and nothing to ease Jenny’s feeling of being watched.

Stealing a glance from under her eyelashes, she saw the dark-eyed man studying her, a tightness about his mouth. He realized she looked at him and nodded, giving a smile that barely widened his mouth and pushed the tightness upward to his eyes. Yet he didn’t look so much disapproving as simply hot and tired like the rest of them.

She nodded, her own smile small and polite even though inside she felt such an unusual touch of excitement. Again she ducked her head and studied the back of the bench before her.

Lord, I have promises to keep. I have tasks to do. And You know me. I have a side of me that rebels, overreacts, enjoys a breathless gallop. She thought of the verse Ma had drilled into her head and heart, ‘Godliness with contentment is great gain.’ There was no point in longing for things she couldn’t have. She tried to find contentment even as she wondered that God had made her a woman—one who must abide by the tight restraints of society when she longed to be free to explore and adventure. She smiled as she thought of how she had—in the not so distant past—tried to talk Pa into heading for the Black Hills to look for gold.

Pa laughed. “Pepper, don’t let the glitter of gold make you blind to the beauty of stability.”

She loved Pa. He understood her better than anyone, perhaps even better than she understood herself. That’s why she’d promised she and Ted would be engaged as soon as she returned. Pa approved of Ted and thought he would be the perfect mate for her. She trusted Pa’s love and wisdom.

The conductor came through the car calling, “Buffalo Hollow next stop.” He paused at Jenny’s side. “I’ll help you with the little one when we get there.”

Her insides did a tumble as she thought of what faced her. She must find transportation to Lena’s brother’s ranch and turn Meggie over to the man and his wife. She would see Meggie settled as she promised then return home. But—she allowed a trickle of excitement—the settling-in period would surely give her a chance to explore the countryside. Just the thought made her shift so she could watch out the window. The golden prairie drifted past. The sky seemed endless, making her feel small yet light, as if she could float forever under the blue canopy.

The train jerked to a halt, puffing and groaning. The old woman muttered about having to endure the ride longer. All the men rose and headed for the door. Only the black-haired man paused to indicate she should precede him.

Flustered at his kindness, she fumbled to pull the two traveling bags from the overhead rack—an impossible task with Meggie clutched in her arms. She tried to put Meggie on her feet so she could manage but Meggie clung to her and refused to stand.

Jenny grew even warmer as the man patiently waited.

“I’ll take your bags. You carry the child.”

She managed to untangle her thoughts enough to murmur “thank you,” then hurried down the aisle and let the conductor assist her to the platform.

The stranger set her bags on the wooden platform. He considered her with a dark intense look. “Ma’am, if I might give you some advice?”

She nodded.

“Go home. This is no place for a woman and child.” He tipped his head in good-bye and strode away.

“Go home?” she sputtered, but he continued on without a backward glance. No place for a woman and child? Who was he to make such a statement? Lena said her brother had sent for his intended six months ago. That woman had come out—no doubt happily married by now. Besides—she sniffed—did he think women were too fragile for frontier life? Too fussy? Too soft? She sniffed again. She could prove him wrong if he cared to hang about and see.

But of course he didn’t and would never know how she would welcome the challenge of this life if it were offered to her. However, that wasn’t going to happen. She would deliver Meggie and return home to her stable life. But not—she glared at the place where the man had disappeared from sight—because she couldn’t stand the challenge of living out West.

As Burke Edwards rode from town he restrained the urge to lean forward and gallop all the way home. He wouldn’t find any sense of peace and release until he could shed his Sunday-go-to-town clothes for jeans and chaps, and ride out on the prairie. He’d wished for a different outcome to his trip though in the back of his mind he knew the futility of hope. Had known, he supposed, from the first, but he had fought it. Perhaps if he’d accepted it from the beginning, made the necessary changes, all this would have turned out differently.

He sighed and settled back into the saddle, letting the rhythm of riding and the familiar scents and sights of the open prairie soothe his troubled mind.

Unbidden, unwelcome, his thoughts turned back to his recent train ride.

He’d noticed the girl the minute he got on the train—her hair trailing in damp disarray from the roll coiled about her head, her bonnet askew as the baby batted at it, her brown eyes both weary and patient. When he sat facing her he saw how her smiling brown eyes darted about, taking in everything. He admired her for coping with the fussy little girl, for smiling and nodding politely when the other passengers complained of the noise.

But the way she peered out the window in awe brought such a surge of heat to his brain, he’d seen stars. He wanted to tell her, yup, that’s what most of Dakota Territory was like—flat, endless prairie. Great for cows and horses. Deadly for women.

He’d studied her. Held her gaze steadily when she glanced his way. In that moment he’d felt something promising, even hopeful as if she dared him to venture into the unknown with him.

Just remembering that fleeting sensation made him snort. “I guess I’ve learned my lesson,” he muttered to the silent prairie and uninterested horse. This was no place for a woman. He’d told her so then marched away without giving her a chance to reply.

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Her eyes had fired up a protest. She’d sputtered. Would have argued if he’d given her opportunity. If he hadn’t learned his lesson a little too well he might have paused long enough to see her let off steam. Instead he marched away. Heard her words of protest follow. Had to steel himself not to turn and satisfy his desire to see how she looked all het up.

For a moment he wondered at her destination. He knew most people from the area who did business at Buffalo Hollow. Hadn’t heard of anyone expecting a visitor. From what he’d overheard the woman explain to the conductor, this was more than a visit. She’d said something about joining an uncle. He’d heard her mention the child’s father dying from a fever and guessed she was a widow.

He shrugged. He’d not see her again, of that he was certain. He only hoped she’d heed his words of warning and leave this country before it destroyed her.

The thoughts he’d been trying to avoid all afternoon flooded his mind, tearing up his plans, his dreams, his future. He’d known it was coming but had refused to accept it. But today had been final. The words left no room for doubt or hope. At twenty-five years of age, he, Burke Edwards, knew his future would take a different shape than the one he’d had in mind when he headed West three years ago with big ideas and bigger dreams.

The ranch came in sight. The house was intended to provide a home for a growing family. It would not happen now. Or ever. The house was only partially finished. He’d intended to extend it further to create a large front room where he and his growing family would gather in the dusk of the evening and enjoy each other’s company. He figured there would be a woman in a rocking chair knitting or mending, he in another chair reading the paper or making plans for the future and someday, children at his feet or on his lap. Knowing it would never happen didn’t make it easy to push those imaginations into the distance, never to be revisited.

Guess he’d known what the final outcome would be because he had abandoned all pretense of work on the house several months ago. It no longer bothered him that it looked forlorn and neglected. He would probably never complete it. No need to. It was adequate for his purposes.

He reined back to study the place and analyze his feelings. Shouldn’t he feel something besides disappointment that there was no reason to finish the house? Shouldn’t he be mourning the fact he and Flora would never marry?

“Guess I’ve known it for a long time. I’ve just been going through the motions of asking, waiting, hoping because I knew that’s what I should do. But you know what, horse? I expect I’m happy enough to let it go. In some ways it’s better that it is over and final.” Still he couldn’t quite shake a sense of failure. He should have walked away from the ranch when he’d seen how Flora felt about it. He didn’t need her parents pointing out that her present condition and her current incarceration in the insane asylum was due, in no small part, to his failure to do so.

He flicked the reins and rode into the yard, turning toward the barn. He dropped to the ground. “Lucky,” he called to the squat little man hanging around the corrals, wielding a pitchfork. The man was past his prime, one leg all gimped up from an accident. But he was handy around the place and had proven to be a loyal friend. “Look after my horse.”

“Okay, Boss.” He dropped the fork and sprinted over to take the reins. “Good trip, Boss?”

“Glad to be home.”

Lucky chuckled. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say.”

“What’s new around here?” He’d only been away two days but it felt like a month.

“Nothing, Boss. Though Mac said he thought the spring over to the west was drying out.”

“I’ll ride over tomorrow and check.”

“And the mosquitoes been awful bad. I’m about to start a smudge over past the barn for the horses.”

“I’ll do it.” Burke welcomed the chance to be out in the open doing something mindless and undemanding. He didn’t want to think of Flora or his failures. He smiled as he recalled the look on the young woman’s face as he warned her this territory was too tough for a woman, then he shook his head.

He didn’t want to think about her, either.

His restlessness returned with a vengeance matching the vicious prairie winds. “Lucky, throw my saddle on another mount. I’ll ride out and have a look at things.” He strode to the house with an urgency that had no cause and quickly changed into his comfortable work clothes. He paused long enough to build the smudge, smeared some lard on the back of his neck to protect himself and rode into the wide open spaces where a man could enjoy forgetfulness.

Forgetfulness was all he sought—all he needed.

Jenny jolted to one side as the buggy bounced along the trail. She feared little, hadn’t blinked when caring for Meggie’s parents in their final days. Nor had she felt anything but a trickle of excitement at the task they had given her before their death—deliver their child to her new guardian. But trepidation gnawed into her bones as the miles passed. She’d soon have to meet Lena’s brother and his wife and inform them of Lena and Mark’s deaths, then turn Meggie over to their care.

Jenny smiled at the child in her arms. It was appreciably cooler riding in the open buggy and Meggie had fallen asleep. She loved this little girl. It would be a wrench to leave her.

“How much farther?” she asked the man she’d hired to take her to the ranch in the far corner of the Dakotas.

“Lookee there and you can see the buildings in the distance.”

She followed the direction he indicated and indeed, saw a cluster of buildings. “Looks almost as big as Buffalo Hollow.” The little prairie town had proved dusty and squat but friendly. The store owner had allowed her to wash Meggie and tidy them both up as best she could. Customers had offered greetings and given her details about the ranch she was about to reach.

“Big place.”

“Boss works his men hard and himself harder.”

“Too bad about what happened.”

When she pressed for details on that latter bit of information she found the people of Buffalo Hollow suddenly reticent.

Too bad? A fire perhaps or a broken bone.

Now, as she studied the far-off buildings, she wished she’d insisted someone tell her what they meant. She could almost hear Pa’s voice and she smiled up into the sky. ‘Pepper, you must learn to guard your inquisitiveness. Sufficient to the day is the trouble thereof.’ He meant everyone had enough troubles and trials of their own without borrowing from others. And that included wanting to know more than she needed about other people.

She turned her attention back to Meggie. Despite her attempts to clean them up in the tiny town, they were both dusty and soiled, and smelled of coal smoke and sour milk. Not the way she would have wanted to arrive on a stranger’s doorstep. She could only hope Meggie’s new guardians cared nothing for such things and only for the well-being of their orphaned niece. Suddenly she wanted this meeting over with and had to remind herself to be patient. Like Pa would say, “Settle down, Pepper. You can’t make the world turn faster.”

They rounded a corner, ducked between two sharp embankments crowned with a jagged row of rocks and headed toward the buildings.

She strained forward, assessing everything. A barn surrounded by rail fences with a horse in one of the pens. Several low buildings on either side of the alleyway running from the barn to the rambling frame house that sat like the crowning jewel a little apart. Smoke twisted from the rock chimney.

She squinted at the house as they drew closer, anxious for a good look, wondering what sort of life Meggie would be thrust into.

A roofed but wall-less lean-to covered the sides of the house—a sort of veranda though it seemed to come to an abrupt halt midway down one wall.

Even several hundred yards away she could see an untidy assortment of things under the roof of the lean-to. As if the barn wasn’t big enough to accommodate the tools of ranching.

“We’s here.” The driver’s announcement was redundant as he pulled to a halt before the house.

“Could you please put my things on the porch?”

He yanked the two bags from the buggy and deposited them. One contained her traveling things and Meggie’s few clothes. The other held most of Lena’s and a few of Mark’s belongings. The bulk of Mark’s possessions had been claimed by his brother, Andy, who also wanted to take Meggie but Lena had been insistent that Meggie go to a married man.

“I don’t want her raised by a bachelor. How would she learn to be a refined lady? No, promise me you’ll take her to my brother. He sent for his bride six months ago. They’ll be happily settled by now. My brother and I were always close. They’ll take good care of my baby.”

Jenny had gladly given her promise and would very shortly fulfill it.

She allowed the driver to help her from the buggy, carefully shifting Meggie from one arm to the other as she descended. The baby wakened and whimpered.

The man stood by his buggy. “I’ll wait and see if anyone has letters to post.”

Meggie hesitated. Why had no one come to the door or strode from one of the outbuildings? She’d glimpsed the shadow of a man in the barn. Seems someone should show a degree of curiosity if not neighborliness but apart from the creak of a gate blowing in the wind and the far-off cry of a hawk, there was no sound of welcome. “This is the right place?”

“The Lazy B. ’Spect all the men are out working but Paquette should be in the back. Want we should go that way?”

“Paquette?” What was that? But if it meant admission to this house, she’d follow the man most anywhere.

“She’s the housekeeper. A Métis.”

She’d heard of the part Indian, part French-Canadian people, many of them descended from the fur traders.

They left the baggage where the man put it and picked their way past overturned buckets and around a huddle of chairs.

They found the back door open. The driver stepped inside with complete confidence and Jenny followed hesitantly. In her world, one didn’t walk into a house unbidden. This, however, was a strange, exciting new world. A thrill trickled through her lungs.

The enormous size of the room surprised her. A scarred wooden table with plank benches along each side and a chair at each end took up the area nearest the door. At the far end, cupboards and a stove—presided over by a little woman so bent and crippled Meggie wondered if she could walk. Her graying hair hung in twin braids down her back, tied with a length of leather. The frayed ends of each braid were black.

“Hullo, Paquette. The boss man about?” the man at her side called.

“I hear him soon ago. Out by de corrals, him. He ride away ’gain. I hear horsesteps. I help you? Me?”

Jenny edged past the driver. “My name is Jenny Archibald. I need to speak to the Edwards. Could you tell Mrs. Edwards I’m here?”

Bent as she was, the woman appeared to regard Jenny from beneath her gray-streaked, black hair with eyes so dark the pupils were indiscernible. “Be no Missus Edwards.” She gave a jerky sort of laugh that seemed oddly full of both mirth and mockery.

“But—” Jenny fell back a step. “There must be.”

“No, Ma’am, there is not.” The deep voice behind her jerked Jenny about so fast it hurt her eyes. She blinked. It was the man from the train. Except—

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him more closely. He looked like a wild cowboy now but with the same dark intense eyes. Yes, it was the same man.

She gathered her thoughts and chose the most obvious one. “Mr. Edwards, I presume?”

“That would be so, though I prefer to be called Burke. But tell me, why must I have a wife?” His words were slow, his voice deadly calm.

She shivered at the way he spoke as if she had insulted him and he was about to demand some sort of retribution. Suddenly the strength drained out the soles of her well-worn black leather boots. As her knees turned soggy, she groped toward the table and plunked down on a bench.

“Perhaps you better explain what it is you want.” He signaled to the woman. “Paquette, bring us coffee, please. Unless…” He silently questioned Jenny.

“Might I have tea?” she whispered.

“Tea, for the lady, Paquette.”

“Yes, boss. Fer de lady. I get de tea.”

Jenny pulled in a long, strengthening draft of air, hot from the stove and rolling with scents of many meals past and present. An explanation, he wanted, did he? Well, seems he had some explaining to do himself. Maybe she’d misunderstood. “No wife?”

“No wife now or ever.”

“But—”

Mr. Edward’s expression stopped any comment she’d been about to make. Lena said he had sent for his intended six months ago. They should have been married by now.

She reminded herself of all the times Ma had warned her to control her emotions, speak like a lady. Mama, how would a lady speak and act in this situation? Thoughts of Ma settled her and common sense replaced her shock. She’d deal with the facts one at a time.

“Mr. Edwards, I have come with some bad news.”

His eyes narrowed and he sat down a few feet away, forcing her to shift sideways to look into his face.

Ignoring the thunderous warning in his face, not even pausing to wonder what it meant, she rushed on. “I’m sorry to have to inform you your sister, Lena, and her husband, Mark, succumbed to the fever a few days ago. And I have brought your niece to you.”

The man jolted like she’d stomped on his foot and she knew a certain satisfaction at surprising him as much as he’d done her. Her inappropriate feeling fled as quickly at it had come, replaced by sympathy. He’d lost his sister and brother-in-law. “I’m so sorry. Please accept my condolences.”

And somehow he’d managed to lose the woman who was to be his wife. What had happened to her? Why didn’t Lena know this? It sounded very suspicious and she glanced about as if the corners held secrets.

“They’re gone? Both of them?” He swallowed hard and shifted his gaze to the little girl. “This is Meggie?”

Meggie whimpered at the sound of her name.

“She’s hot and tired and missing her parents.” The details regarding his lack of a wife could be sorted out later, after Meggie had been tended to. But what the baby needed most was a new mother figure.

There was no Mrs. Edwards. She tried to get her thoughts around the unwelcome information. Jenny glanced at the man in continuing disbelief.

His gaze held hers in the same steady probing look that had trapped her on the train. She tried to free herself. Tried to think what she must do now.

Paquette set steaming cups at the table.

The driver sucked back black tea.

Jenny bent her head, ran her finger along the tiny handle.

This was not how things were to be.