Claimed on the Frontier (21 page)

“Poor little girl,” she purred. “Oh, the poor lamb.” Her eyes were moist with tears as Geraldine returned with a plate of food and a steaming cup of hot tea. “Pearl, go fetch my doctoring box,” ma said.

I was grateful for an instruction. I raced back to the main room to the pantry, where ma kept a tin box filled with basic medical supplies, salves, tinctures, and clean bandages. I brought it to ma, then bustled back into the main room and took a small pot, filling it with boiling hot water from the pot in the hearth. The three of us worked tirelessly, cleaning Hannah’s wounds, Geraldine stripping the girl of her stockings and shoes until she lay on the bed in nothing but her thin, too-short calico dress and a threadbare shawl. Matthew paced back and forth, sentry by the door, occasionally flicking the curtains open and watching.

Ma lifted the girl’s shoulders, gently wiping away the tears, blood, and dirt from her face. She was a pretty little thing, speckled with freckles, her light brown hair tied in braids, with a small button nose and a pert little mouth, though her lips and eyes were swollen. After a few minutes, Hannah’s eyes fluttered open. They flared with fear.

“Where am I?” the girl whispered.

“You’re in a safe place, now,” ma answered. “Tell me where it hurts, darlin’.” The girl closed her eyes.

“Everywhere.”

Geraldine closed her eyes and brought a hand to her eyes. “I can’t bear it,” she whispered.

“You can,” I said. “I can hardly bear it myself. But the girl needs us to be strong for her and by the Almighty, we will.”

Geraldine nodded at my admonishment. I decided instructing her would likely be best. “Geraldine, why don’t you go on out and tend to the roast? Ma and I will tend to the girl. You do cooking best, and you’ll make sure our Christmas dinner isn’t ruined, now, won’t you?” She nodded, quickly scurrying out of the room, and moments later I heard the reassuring clangs and bangs of her in the kitchen. I knelt on the other side of little Hannah.

“My ma,” she said. “I came to get help for my ma.”

“The men’ve gone to see to her,” ma said soothingly. “You rest now, and let us tend to you.”

We cleaned her wounds and rubbed salve on the open cuts on her face. Her little arms were bruised, and her fingers looked painfully cold. I knew she might even lose a finger or toe to frostbite. She was hardly dressed for autumn, much less the bitter cold of winter. After a time, we helped feed her bits of bread, and she drank a whole cup of steaming hot tea while ma praised her, holding her head up and helping her. Matthew peeked in from time to time, and he reminded me of a smaller version of his brother. His eyes were serious as he eyed Hannah, and I knew if he only had the chance he’d exact vengeance on the one responsible for Hannah’s injuries.

But my heart was with Aaron. I feared for his safety. Though he was with his brothers, I wondered what havoc a man who could hurt a little girl so would do to my husband.

I prayed, and I prayed, and I prayed.

It was an hour after Hannah had come to ma’s with Geraldine and Phillip that Matthew saw the smoke in the sky.

“It’s thick and dark,” he said. “It ain’t from a small household fire, but somethin’ much bigger. Lord Almighty, something’s goin’ up in flames.”

I didn’t even have it in me to admonish him for his language. I followed to the window and stared. Smoke rose in thick black billows in the sky. We could even smell the telltale scent of burning wood. I wondered. It was not uncommon for a settler’s house or barn to catch fire in the winter. Fire was our only source of heat, of course, and not everyone was as fastidious with safety as Aaron was.

We wouldn’t know until much later that evening, when the men came home, tired, worn out, but thankfully safe, that Hannah’s father had locked himself and his wife up in their house and intentionally set flame to their own home. The men had to break down the door with their axes, dragging them both out to safety. Aaron told me later that he was tempted to leave her father in the flames to fend for himself. But in the end, though they’d managed to save Hannah’s mother, the man responsible got away.

Chapter Eleven: Brave Girl

If Aaron was strict about my latching the door before, he was nearly impossible now that Hannah’s father was on the loose. He’d flick the curtains from the windows before he went to bed at night, peering into the darkness, to be sure that all was well before he left. Hannah and her mother were now safely at ma’s house. Of course, we never saw Matthew now, as he wanted to spend as much time with Hannah as he could, bustling around showing off how he chopped wood or fixed things around the house.

But Aaron said that the man, Leroy, they called him, had gotten a good look at Aaron. Aaron was sure that Leroy would exact his vengeance on us, and every day before he left, he would take my chin in his hand and look me in the eye. “You will
latch
this door when I leave, girl.” He said it so many times I’d grown sick of it, and finally one day lost my patience, throwing my hands up in frustration and talking back. I got licked for that, but I sure did latch that blasted door.

Sometimes during the day Aaron would drive me to ma’s or Geraldine’s. Geraldine and I had formed a sort of truce. It seemed she and I both understood that silly things like scorched petticoat hems, my level of education, and her discontent with not landing Aaron for a husband… well, that was all a trifle compared to being married to a man who beat you and your child. A mere trifle. She came to my house now, and as I got to know her, I found she wasn’t just a sour old biddy. She was actually quite lovely, if a bit snobby. But I never did hold my tongue.

“Oh, get your nose out of the clouds, Geraldine,” I said to her one day when she’d come to visit. Spring had begun to peek its nose out of the wintry darkness and the days were beginning to grow lighter. “You hike up your skirts and use the outhouse like every other girl, so no use pretending you’re all sunshine and roses.”

Aaron was home at the time, just having finished dinner, and he overheard everything I said. I clamped a hand on my mouth. Lord help me, I
would
let my mouth run away with me. I wasn’t allowed to snap at others that way, and I feared I would land myself belly-down on his lap for it. Still, I felt the heat in my cheeks as Geraldine’s mouth dropped.

“And close your mouth. You’ll catch flies,” I muttered.

She clamped her mouth shut, and I swear I heard Aaron laugh, though he quickly covered it up with a cough. “Pearl,” came his deep voice, scolding, behind me.

I sighed. “Yes, sir.”

Geraldine’s eyes flitted from me to him.

“You mind how you speak now, young lady.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” I mumbled to Geraldine. She nodded.

“Do you always call him sir?”

The question took me by surprise. “Well, yes,” I said. “When he addresses me, I do.”

She frowned. “Seems to me she’s a right to her own mind, Aaron,” Geraldine said loudly, her knitting needles flying.

“And you have the right to speak yours, Geraldine,” Aaron said placidly. “But now that you’ve stated your opinion, I’ll thank you to hold your tongue.”

I wasn’t sure at first if she was mocking him, or if he just spoke with such sure authority that she couldn’t help it, but her immediate response was, “Yes, sir.” Then she blushed furiously. I bit my cheek to keep from grinning.

The wind howled outside and Aaron got to his feet. “That wind is whippin’ up something’ fierce. Let’s get you home, Geraldine.”

Geraldine folded up her handiwork and rose to her feet. I stood and stretched, and followed them to the door. Before he left, Aaron turned to me again.

“Now, when I leave, don’t forget—”

“I know, I
know
,” I said, exasperated. “Latch the door!”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Quite right, little lady. And I think we’ll have a little chat this evening about your tone of voice with me.”

I frowned. Right in front of Geraldine! But she was merely pulling on her gloves and if she’d heard anything, she clearly pretended not to. Thank goodness.

Aaron sent her out ahead of me, and as she walked to the buggy, he turned an eye to me. “You be a good girl, now.”

I nodded, chastened. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.

And then he was gone. I quickly latched the door and pulled to make sure it was secure. I hated being indoors in his absence. I felt it imperative I obey and I busied myself with preparing supper. My bread was already rising, so I dusted the table, flipped the dough out and let it rest a bit, then checked on the beans I had simmering on the stove.

It was only a few minutes after Aaron and Geraldine had left when I heard Aaron’s signature knock on the door. I thought it odd he was back so soon. I glanced around the cabin quickly, wondering if Geraldine had left one of her belongings behind. I spied her shawl on the rocker and went to retrieve it. Surely, they’d come right back for it when she realized she’d left it. Snatching it up, I wiped my floury hands on my apron and went to the door, yanking it open.

I had a split second to register shock—it was not Geraldine or Aaron, but a wild-looking man with hair askew and a lewd look about him. Suddenly frightened, I tried to step back and shut the door on him, but I was too slow. One large hand shoved on the door, the other on me as
he shoved me in.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he murmured. “Thinking that’ll keep you safe, did you? Never think I’s lyin by, just bidin’ my time, ready to use your man’s knock as my own?”

My eyes quickly roamed the cabin. Aaron had taken his gun with him, but had left his small pistol in our bedroom. I was only to use it in case of emergency, but if ever there was an emergency, this was it. On the table lay the cast-iron pan I’d set out to oil, and there was little else.

“Tryin’ to think on how’s to get away?” he crooned, and his voice made me sick. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair ragged, and his fingernails were dirty and unkempt. I felt my stomach churn as I stepped backward. “Never give a thought to how I’d get away, did ya now? When ya lambaste my name all over town, takin’ my wife and daughter somewheres to live? You think that’s fine and dandy, don’t ya?”

I knew there was no reasoning with the man, and I knew Aaron wouldn’t want me to provoke him, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

“You’re nothing but a liar and a sneak!” I shouted. I hoped I would get him angry and he’d lose his wits. “No one in town needed my word for it. They know who you are! And your daughter and wife wouldn’t want to be with you if you were the last man on earth!”

I’d forgotten the man was adept at attacking women. With one vicious swipe of his filthy hand, he had me by the hair. I screamed as loudly as I could, hoping it would throw him off his game and it was my only hope that someone out there would hear me. I kicked my feet but missed, as he dragged me straight across the room and pulled, smashing my head on the edge of the wooden table. My vision blurred as pain streaked across my scalp, my hands clawing at his, trying to release his fingers from their wicked grip. He tried to lift my head again, but my foot finally connected with his calf and my boot sank into the soft flesh.

He howled and released my hair. I had no time to contemplate my next move. As he hopped around on one foot, I tried to run. I didn’t get far before he snatched at my apron and yanked me back, reeling me closer to him. As soon as he could grab me, his hand was around my arm. He spun me around and slapped me. My cheek flamed from the blow and I cried out, seconds before he wrapped both of his hands around my throat in a vise-like grip. I struggled against him, but he was far more powerful than I. I wrapped my hands around his wrists, tugging, but it was useless. I couldn’t breathe. My head felt hot and too big for my shoulders. The room was growing dark. I was going to die here, with this cruel man’s hands wrapped around my neck. Aaron would find me like this, lifeless on the floor of our home. I wanted to tell him thank you. I wanted him to hold me one last time. I wanted to tell him I loved him.

I would not go down without a fight. My kick had saved me once before. I tried again, this time aiming right between his legs. My foot connected, and his grip loosened enough that I was able to get away as I took huge, gasping breaths of air. He was bent over by the table. I took a risk, stepping close enough to him so that I could grab the heavy handle of my cast-iron frying pan. I swung. It was solid, so heavy I needed two hands to lift it, and when it was hot, Aaron typically insisted on lifting it himself. The man rose just in time, as I swung the pan straight across at him, hitting him on the temple. He fell to the floor with a scream of rage. But I’d only just grazed him, not hard enough to actually knock him out. Still dizzy from the stranglehold he had on me, I raced to my room to fetch the pistol.

I could feel him,
hear
him hot on my heels. Where was Aaron? Geraldine’s house was a short distance away, and if he’d only dropped her off quickly, he could come straight home. Had he stopped to visit with Phillip? He rarely did. Or maybe it all just seemed like the time was going by way too quickly.

I had to distract the man. When he came into the room, I grabbed the quilt off my bed and threw it at him. It tangled on his face and arms as he wrestled with it, trying to get it off. He screamed with rage as I fumbled in the drawer and my hands clasped on the cold metal of the pistol.

I spun around to him, my hands shaking as they held the gun.

“You will leave me alone,” I said, with as much courage as I could muster. “You’ll back away and not touch a hair on my head. If you do, I’ll blast a hole straight through you.”

I stared at him. An angry welt was rising on the side of his face. His eyes were mean and vacant. Saliva dripped from his bleeding lip and his hands were fisted. But he did not stand back. He came straight at me. With no other choice, I pulled the trigger while my hands shook. He threw back his head with a howl of rage. My bullet had just grazed his ear. I could see a spurt of crimson blood as he grabbed for his face. I could still hear the deafening sound of the gunshot ringing in my ears. I shook my head. I only had one shot before I had to reload, and there was no time, or ammunition. I’d lost my only chance at shooting him.