Crazy Woman Creek (22 page)

“And what is that, dear?” said Etta, gripping the buckboard bench to keep from sliding off. But before Lenora answered, Etta said, “I know you’re excited about getting out of the house, but can you slow your horses down just a little? Buffalo will still be there if we take it at a trot instead of a stampede.”

Lenora laughed. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” Deftly she pulled on the reins to slow Beauty and Beast. “I’m just so happy to be going to town.” She let go of the reins with one hand and patted her still-flat abdomen. “And I’m so happy about the baby.”

“The baby will be a comfort to you,” said Etta, raising her voice a little over the noise of the wagon wheels.

Mrs. Nolan didn’t say it, but Lenora’s mind easily finished the thought.
In the loss of your husband
. But the unspoken words dampened Lenora’s spirit only a little. The sudden pang of grief she felt when she realized that James might not ever hold their long-awaited child gripped her heart so fiercely she felt she couldn’t breathe. But already she was learning to push the pain to the back of her mind as quickly as possible. She felt too good, the day was too beautiful, the baby too healthy and too
real
to allow her thoughts to become veiled in a shroud of mourning. James still had not come home and might not ever again. But she had to go on living. She had the baby growing within her to think of now.

“Now what were you going to tell me?” said Mrs. Nolan.

“I’ve made a decision.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t live alone, Etta. Having you with me these past few weeks, after being alone so long, makes the thought of spending another night by myself on the ranch without James—or you—most unpleasant.”

“Of course, dear. Anybody would feel the way you do.”

“Not only that, when James first went missing, I was determined to hang on to the ranch at any cost. But after all the things that have happened since then, now holding onto the ranch all by myself seems naive.”

The elderly widow nodded, listening intently over the racket of the wagon wheels and the clip clop of the horse team.

“But I’m not a quitter, Etta. And now that Sam Wright is behind bars, I have even more reason to stick it out until I’ve fulfilled the five years. I have nothing to fear anymore. With that episode behind me, I have every reason to give it one more year. James would want that.”

“Are you sure, Lenora?”

“If I can stick it out another year, the ranch will be one hundred percent mine. The baby’s too.” Lenora patted her abdomen again. “If James isn’t back with us by then, I’ll sell and move back East with my folks.”

“Do you really think you can handle the ranch and a little one by yourself Lenora? Even for a short time? You’ve never had a baby. You don’t know how much work is involved.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy.”
Nothing has been easy yet.
“To tell the truth, I expect it to be difficult. But neither is it impossible. I have to at least try to hang on until I get full ownership.”

“A year is a long time, Lenora.”

“A year and a half to be exact.”

Etta shook her head slowly side to side and made a straight line of her mouth.

“Don’t look so glum, Etta. I didn’t say I’d do it entirely by myself. I plan to ask Mr. Morehouse at Wells Fargo for a loan this morning. If I can get an advance against the sale of the ranch, I’ll have enough to hire a foreman full-time. If James doesn’t come back before the ranch is ours, once the property is in my name I’ll sell it and pay off the mortgage with the proceeds.”

“And if James comes back before then?”

“Then the mortgage will be his problem to solve.”

“Ooh,” said Mrs. Nolan, drawing out her ‘o’ a little bit longer than necessary.

“What do you mean, ‘Ooh’?”

“You’ll hire a foreman to live on your ranch?”

“Room and board plus a pittance wage is the only way I can afford to hire someone. The ranch isn’t big enough to pay cash wages.”

“True,” said Mrs. Nolan with a sigh.

“And I can’t keep accepting favors from the Slocombs. I must start paying Ben for his services. To do otherwise would be taking advantage.”

Etta nodded again but said nothing. Lenora shifted the reins in her hands. They were growing numb from gripping hard for so long.

“Sam Wright is locked up where he belongs, thank God, so hiring him is out of the question. Betsy Thomas tells me it won’t be long before I won’t be able to lift the harness to hitch and unhitch my horses. I have to find someone. As soon as possible too.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t do to overexert yourself and end up in bed again.”

“Never!” If there was anything Lenora dreaded it was the mind-numbing effect of forced inactivity. She had to keep busy, keep moving, and keep her mind occupied to stay sane.

The ladies rode in silence a while, enjoying the fresh morning air and wild sense of freedom that comes from traversing through wide open spaces. Before long the weathered storefronts of Buffalo appeared as a gray spot on the prairie.

“You sure you don’t want me to wait with you until your son shows up?” asked Lenora.

“No dear, you’ve plenty of errands in town to take up your time. Malcolm knows to meet me at Aeschelman’s. He’ll be right on schedule. And if he’s late, I can always wait in the milliner’s shop and visit with Ellen. I haven’t been in to see her in a while. Besides, I need a new hat.”

“Like you need another head.”

Both women laughed. Mrs. Nolan was known about town for, among other things, the endless parade of distinctive bonnets she sported.

“How can I thank you for all you’ve done for me, Etta? If you hadn’t sacrificed to come stay with me, I would have ended up languishing at the Occidental.” Lenora shuddered at the thought of the toll that would have taken on her bank account, not to mention the loneliness inherent in staying so long in a strange place, bereft of family and the comfort of familiar surroundings.

“Think nothing of it. I was glad to do it. I’ll come and stay with you when the baby arrives too. Now there’s something to look forward to!” Mrs. Nolan smiled broadly, her laugh lines framing her eyes under her bonnet.

“I would like that very much, Etta,” said Lenora, reaching for the elderly woman’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

#

As Lenora pulled onto Main Street, it seemed to her that the presence of two women, one young, one old, riding on a common buckboard was of greater interest than usual to shoppers and other pedestrians. Two men occupied in carrying a corn harvester out the front door of Aeschelman’s actually stopped, grunting under their load, to watch them roll by. Others pointed and whispered, staring and putting their heads together to share some dark secret, and not all that discreetly, either. And though Lenora saw a few passersby who knew her from church, oddly, no one waved a greeting. Then, as they slowed the wagon for a pedestrian in front of Wells Fargo, Lenora saw Mrs. Graves walk out of the bank. She too stopped to watch the movement of the buckboard. Lenora saw Mrs. Graves look in her direction. Lenora smiled, but instead of returning the smile, Mrs. Graves blanched, turned her head, and proceeded to walk down the street.

A niggling sense of alarm arose in Lenora’s mind. How bad was the gossip, really? Perhaps
Betsy had not exaggerated after all. Lenora leaned over and spoke closely in Mrs. Nolan’s ear.

“Etta, something doesn’t feel right. People are staring.”

“Yes dear, I see that.”

“I hope I’m not embarrassing you.”

“Not at all.” Mrs. Nolan smoothed her skirt, tucked a stray wisp of white hair into her frilly bonnet, and sat up a little straighter in the buckboard seat. “Just keep guiding the horses and smile when you see their faces. There’s nothing you can do about the dark thoughts on the other side of those eyes.”

“Yes,” said Lenora, her voice tremulous. But for the most part she found it easier to avoid their faces altogether. She shook inside when she saw the open displeasure staring back at her from people she knew about town. It made her all the more panicked and anxious to get her buckboard and horses behind the dark walls of Olathe’s Livery. She stared straight ahead and guided the horses, which seemed anxious as well to reach the creature comforts at the stables.

Not soon enough Lenora was pulling on the reins to slowly guide Beauty and Beast through the wide open door of Olathe’s. She brought the big animals to a stop, set the brake, and held the reins, waiting for Olathe to appear. The old man heard the jingle of the harness and the creaking of the wagon and came from the back of the stable to greet them. Out of habit Lenora smiled at him. She was taken aback when the little man rudely refused to return the courtesy.

“Ma’am,” he said, with minimum politeness. His jaw taut, he met Lenora’s eyes for the briefest instant, enough to be civil and no more, and then walked around the wagon to the other side to help Mrs. Nolan down. Naturally the elderly woman would be assisted first in disembarking, but Lenora felt the rebuff acutely just the same.

So this is how it is
. The heretofore likable and friendly little man suspected her of damnable things. If someone she thought of as a friend was inclined to believe the wild tales circulating about the lunatic adulteress at Crazy Woman Creek, then Lenora realized, with a feeling of doom, that her troubles with gossip would only get worse. As she sat stiff and prim on the buckboard bench waiting for Olathe to help her down, resplendent in her creamy white barege and silken tussah, she wished she had worn something to town today a little more reserved.

At least, she thought with wry humor, she hadn’t worn her blazing red kidskin boots and matching gloves.

Olathe finished with Mrs. Nolan and then, instead of returning to Lenora’s side of the wagon to help her down, he ignored her and walked over to Beauty and took hold of the reins attached to the horse’s harness.

“You going to be long in town, Mrs. Rose?” he said.

Lenora’s mouth parted slightly with shock. Never had a man treated her with such disrespect in all her life. By this time Mrs. Nolan, using her cane, had thumped her way around the wagon to Lenora’s side.

“Bennett Olathe,” she said, leaning heavily on her cane with both hands after the long, bone-jarring ride to town. “Act hospitably and help Mrs. Rose down.”

Olathe didn’t move, just stood there, tight lipped.

“This is my livery,” he finally said, a look of steel determination in his eyes.

“Fiddlesticks!” snapped Mrs. Nolan. She turned abruptly away from Olathe and took a step toward the wagon, where Lenora sat, speechless and incredulous. Mrs. Nolan leaned on her cane with one hand and extended her other to Lenora. “Here, let me help you,” she said, loudly enough to make it clear the words were more for Olathe than Lenora, “Shameful thing when we have to suffer such a shortage of gentlemen in this town.”

“That’s alright, Etta, I can manage,” said Lenora, shaking inside but doing her best to lower her yards of barege skirting over the side of the wagon without catching the flounces on anything sharp. Once she was safely standing on two feet, she turned to Olathe.

“I’ll be several hours in town,” she said stiffly. “Thank you for looking after my horses.”

Olathe
only nodded.

Lenora turned
to Mrs. Nolan. “One minute, Etta, and I’ll get my basket.” Lenora stepped close to the wagon and on tiptoes reached over the side for her shopping basket, grabbed it, and then took Etta’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Once they were outside the barn and out of Olathe’s hearing, Lenora turned to Etta. “My, after all that I’m glad he didn’t turn my horses and wagon away too.” 

“He needs the money you pay him to feed and water them.”

“I know, but still ...”

“Try not to let it ruin your day, dear.”

“It pretty much already has.” Lenora turned back toward the barn to see if Olathe was staring after them. He wasn’t, yet she could still feel his ugly glare on her back.

“Maybe they’re right about the widow’s weeds,” Lenora said quietly, half to herself.

“What do you mean by that?” said Mrs. Nolan, guiding them toward the center of town.

“Maybe I should be wearing mourning clothes. Some around here are offended that I don’t. But honestly Etta, I don’t feel like a widow. I still don’t have any proof.” Lenora’s voice began to crack, shaken more by Olathe’s cold reception than the issue of when to wear mourning black. One thought merely fanned the flames of the other.

“And what if you wore black? What would they say then?”

Lenora thought a moment. What
would
they say? Her mind had never trod that path. If she wore black, like some thought appropriate, wouldn’t they stop talking about her altogether? The two women stepped gingerly onto the planks of the stepping bridge that crossed narrow Clear Creek, being careful not to catch their heels in the wide spaces between the planks. They stepped onto the boardwalk, clutching their skirts with one hand to keep them from dragging on the edge of the step up.

“That I was mourning my husband.” Wasn’t that the logical answer?

“Maybe.” Mrs. Nolan clasped Lenora’s hand in hers. “Or maybe they’d say, ‘Scandalous, isn’t it? Look at that shameless Mrs. Rose. Husband missing only a few months and already she’s wearing black.” Mrs. Nolan rolled her eyes in exaggerated shock, throwing her head back for dramatic effect. “Why is she in such a hurry to start the one-year mourning period? Couldn’t she wait till they’ve found his body? Probably has set her cap for some other fellow already. Outrageous! The wanton woman, her husband not even buried yet.’”