Orphan Train Romance 1 - 5 (13 page)

ALMOST FIVE YEARS LATER

Lydia woke up and noted that it was still dark outside, but she could tell that the sun was starting to come up.  She laid quietly so she wouldn’t wake up Clinton.  She knew he needed his sleep and she knew if he realized she was awake, he would start to fuss over her again.

While she laid there, she started thinking about the events of her life since she arrived in Texas.  She thought about the many losses she had had over the last five years.  She had lost her father in death.  She had lost contact with Noreen.   For some reason, her last two letters she had mailed to her had been returned.  She wondered what happened to Noreen and if maybe she had died.   She had lost her home and family business in Chicago.  But the biggest losses have been the four miscarriages she had had.  It seemed she could not carry a baby to term.  During the last miscarriage a few months ago, she had bled heavily, and the doctor had advised her that she should not try to get pregnant again as she could lose her life.    In fact, she probably could not get pregnant because too much damage had been done.

Since that miscarriage, Lydia had not been herself.  She knew she had been extra quiet lately and did not want to be around anyone.  She spent most of her free time with her horse, Comanche.  Soon after she and Clinton married, he taught her how to ride, and she rode around the ranch and into the hills nearby almost daily since.  She loved to ride.  A few years ago, Clinton had given her Comanche, and the horse had become her best friend.  When she rode him, it was the only time she felt herself. 

The doctor had instructed her not to ride her horse until he gave the okay.  Because she had lost so much blood, he had refused to give his permission until now. 

She enjoyed being married to Clinton.  He was a good husband and treated her well.  He was a hard worker and spent many hours on the ranch.  There were many days she never saw him, as he would leave before she woke up and sometimes would not return until it was almost bedtime.  There were days she wished he would be around more. 

She had a good relationship with his mother and sister, Jamie.  Jamie had married about a year ago to a man she had gone to school with.  Her new husband had received schooling to be a minister, and after their marriage, he had taken her to live in a town in the West.  Lydia missed her and enjoyed getting letters from them.  Clinton’s mother, Isabelle, had suffered a stroke a few months ago and was getting frail.  She needed to have help with her needs so Clinton had hired a nurse who lived in the ranch house and who helped care for her. 

Try as she might, Lydia could not feel truly happy, and she knew that worried Clinton.  She wondered if it was because she had had so much loss in her life.   Ever since the last miscarriage and hearing the news that she likely would never be a mother, she had been feeling very despondent.  She had pulled away from everyone, including Clinton, but he had also pulled away from her.  He spent most days from dawn to dusk out on the ranch, and even though they still slept in the same bed, he had not touched her since her last miscarriage two months ago.  She wondered if he regretted marrying her since she had not been able to give him a child.  He did show concern for her, but their relationship had grown to more like a friendship between two people than a marriage. 

Lydia felt the bed move and she laid silently while Clinton got up.  She heard him quietly dress and leave the room.  She waited for a few more minutes, and then, too restless to lie in bed any longer, she too got up and quickly dressed.  The sun was coming up now and she wanted to ride Comanche before it got too hot.  She dressed in her split riding dress and pulled on her men’s cowboy boots.  She then brushed her black hair and braided it so it hung down her back.

She walked to the kitchen and grabbed a quick bite to eat.  The housekeeper, Mrs. Young, was in the kitchen preparing breakfast.  She was used to Lydia coming down early and had coffee and toast ready for her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Byron,” Mrs. Young greeted her.  “Mr. Byron has already left for the barn.”

“Good morning,” Lydia returned the greeting, ignoring the comment about her husband.  “Thank you for the coffee and toast.”  She sat at the table and quickly ate, listening to Mrs. Young as she talked. 

“I think it will be hotter today than it was yesterday,” Mrs. Young said as she laid some bacon on a skillet to fry.  “I plan on spending some time in the garden today and I hope to get out there before it gets too hot.  Did you see how big the tomato and corn plants are getting?  I thought for sure they weren’t going to make it after that hard rain storm we had a few weeks ago, with the hail coming and all, but they seemed to have pulled out of it and are getting strong.”

Lydia smiled as the housekeeper talked.  She tended to speak without waiting for anyone to answer.  She loved to talk, almost as if she liked to hear her own voice.

“Mr. Byron said he was going to be fixing fences again along the north side of the ranch.  I am going to pack a lunch for him so he won’t need to worry about returning until dinner time.  Did you know Emily is with child again? She’s going to have her hands full, that’s for sure, with four children under the age of five.  I guess it’s good if she was going to have twins, that she had those girls first.  She’s going to need their help.”

Lydia wasn’t surprised to hear Emily, the foreman’s wife, was expecting again.  She tried to feel happy for her friend, but what she felt was envy.  Why did it seem that some women could have a child whenever they wanted, when other women struggled, like herself?  She quickly got up, feeling the need to leave.  She wanted to go saddle her horse and go for a long ride.

“Thanks, for the coffee and toast,” she interrupted Mrs. Young.  “I will be back in a few hours.  I am going riding.”

Mrs. Young turned around in surprise.  “You didn’t even finish your breakfast.  You don’t eat enough to feed a bird.”  She quickly scooped up the toast, placed a few pieces of bacon and some eggs between them and wrapped them in a cloth.  “At least take this with you.”

Lydia accepted the bundle, knowing arguing with her would be futile.  She grabbed her own cowboy hat off the hook that she wore when she went riding and quickly left the ranch house.  She walked to the barn where her horse was kept.  She went inside the barn and walked up to her horse who greeted her with a nicker.

“Hi, boy, shall we go for a run?” Lydia ran her hand over his face and patted his neck.  He was a handsome horse, black as night with a dark brown tail and mane.  He had a white spot on his forehead.  She absolutely loved this horse.

She quickly saddled Comanche and led him out of the barn.  At the entrance, she grabbed her bag that held a few emergency supplies, water, and a gun.  When she first started to go off on her own, riding Comanche. Clinton had insisted she learn how to shoot and had provided her with her own gun.  She added the wrapped toast to the bag and hooked it to the saddle.  The horse pranced in anticipation of a ride.  Just as she was ready to swing into the saddle, she felt a touch on her shoulder.

“Lydia.”  It was Clinton standing next to her.  He leaned down and gave her a friendly peck on the cheek.  “I should have known you would be getting up early to ride this morning.”

“Yes, since the doctor gave the go ahead, I decided this morning would be a good time to go for a ride.  I am really anxious to ride Comanche, it’s been so long.”

“Are you doing all right?” he asked her, reaching his hand up as if he wanted to touch her cheek where he had just kissed her, but then let his hand fall to his side.

“I’m fine, Clinton,” she responded.  “Thank you for your concern.”

“I’ll let you get to your ride then.”  He stepped back.  “Do you have everything you need?”

Lydia nodded, knowing he was asking if she had enough emergency supplies.  Anything could happen when she went riding in the hills and it was always smart to be prepared.  She started to swing her leg into the saddle and Clinton stopped her and bent his leg, allowing her to use it to swing into the saddle.  He held onto her hand as she did so and she felt the usual ting she always felt when he touched her.  She often wondered if he felt the same thing she did.

“I should be back by lunch time,” Lydia informed him.  “I plan on riding in the hills, like usual.”

She then clicked her heels and Comanche trotted away.  When they had left the ranch yard, she allowed the horse to run.  She loved the feel of the wind in her hair and the movement of her horse under her.  She soon slowed Comanche down because she did not want him to get too tired.  She could see the hills she was heading to off in the distance.  Some of hills were rocky terrain with large shrubs surrounding them.  Others were covered with green grass and had large trees that grew near a river.  She had grown to love Texas as much as she had loved Chicago where she grew up.  Texas had its own beauty to it.  Lydia could see some hawks flying in the sky in the distance.  She could hear some songbirds singing in the nearby trees as she got closer to the river.

When she finally stopped her horse, it was near a small stream that branched off the river.  The stream emptied into a small shallow pond before it continued on its way to the ranch.  There were many trees around this pond that gave great shade on its grassy slope.  This was her favorite spot and she often came here when she needed to think or just to be alone.  She got off Comanche and tied his reins to a nearby tree after allowing him to drink from the stream.  He was a good horse, but he tended to abruptly leave if something startled him.  When this happened, he always made it back to the ranch, but it was a long walk home if he took off.  She would much rather ride back to the ranch than walk.

Lydia unhooked the bag tied to the saddle and sat down under a tree against the trunk.  She pulled out the bacon and egg sandwich.  Even though it was now cold, she ate most of it, and then drank some of the water from the stream.  For the first time in a long time, she felt hungry and decided to eat the rest. 

She spent most of the morning in this spot, walking and thinking.  Now that she knew she would not be able to have any children, she wondered what she should do with her life.  She needed a job to do.  Clinton would not let her work on the ranch.  They had a housekeeper that kept the house clean and did the cooking, with help from the wives of some of the hands that worked on the ranch for Clinton.  There was a nurse who helped care for Clinton’s mother, Isabelle.  Lydia sometimes helped in the garden, but they had help with the care of that also.  She did help bottle the fruit and vegetables for the winter months, but canning season would not be starting for another few months.  Isabelle was still alert enough that she made the main decisions about the housework and meals, although she had been hinting lately to Lydia that it might be time to turn that responsibility over to her.  If she did take over that job, it would keep her busier, but she still wanted something to do that she did well.  She wanted to make a difference.

Lydia wished her mother was still alive and that she could talk to her about what had been going on in her life, even if it would be through letters.  She missed her so much, especially during this last miscarriage.  She knew her mother had lost a few pregnancies of her own.  She remembered one period of time her mother spent a lot of time in bed.  She didn’t know it at the time, but she now suspected that her mother was in bed trying to keep a pregnancy.  She remembered sitting next to mother on the bed and watching her quilt.  She had made beautiful quilts and most of the time when she finished one, she gave it away to a friend or neighbor.    At the time, Lydia was too young to help her with the quilts, but she remembered her mother giving her a piece of cloth with a needle and thread and teaching her simple stitches.  Her mother died when she was ten years old, so she never really learned the art of quilting.  She had brought a small quilt with her to Texas that her mother had made for her when she was a baby.  She had wanted to give that quilt to her own child.

Lydia suddenly had a great desire to learn to quilt.  She knew Emily quilted and knew she would be willing to teach her.  This might be something she could do with her time.  She could learn to quilt and then give away the quilts to others just as her mother had done.  Lydia felt good about this decision.  She spent some more time walking up and down the stream, but she could tell by the sun that is was almost lunch time, so she decided it was time to head back to the ranch.

Clinton watched as his wife rode away on the horse he had given her.  He was worried about her.  He knew she would be safe with Comanche and she knew the hills where she was heading as well.  He wished Lydia was happy.  She had never really shown true happiness, even when she first came to the ranch five years before.  At the time, he had attributed it to the shock of her father dying, needing to travel quickly to Texas, and then the marriage soon after.  She was always very quiet and did not talk very much.  About six months after their marriage, she became pregnant, and for the first time, Clinton saw a genuine smile on her face, but when she lost that baby a few months later, the smile went away.  That was when he gave her Comanche.  She loved that horse and would spend hours riding him almost daily, only stopping when she became pregnant again.  After this fourth pregnancy, it was almost as if she was depressed, especially after the doctor told her there would be no more pregnancies. 

As much as Clinton wished Lydia had been able to carry a child to term, he felt grateful that Lydia was all right and he hadn’t lost her.  He had not loved Lydia when they first married, but he had since developed a deep love for her and did not think he could bear the thought of losing her.  He was sad that there would be no children, but he was glad he still had his wife. 

He knew he had been spending more time than usual away from the ranch house and from Lydia, but he did not know how he could help her.  He felt that at least he could be productive working on the ranch and making sure things ran as smoothly as possible.  He did not know how else to handle the situation between them. 

He knew his mother was aware of the problem even though, since her stroke, she spent most of her time in her rooms with her nurse.  Clinton visited her daily and she would ask questions about how Lydia was doing.  He would answer them as positive as he could, but he knew Lydia also visited his mother regularly, and he was sure she had figured out that things were not as they should be. 

Clinton climbed on his own horse and headed to a far pasture to finish the fencing he had started yesterday.  His foreman, Devon, would be joining him, and they should be able to get it done before lunch.  Then he could spend the afternoon training a new horse he was working with to cut cattle.  Maybe Lydia would come to watch as he trained the horse as she sometimes did.

He soon reached the area where he was fencing and saw that Devon was already there.  He climbed off his horse, grabbed his tools, and walked over to where Devon was working.  The two men greeted each other and started working on the fence in silence.  They worked together well, each having their own job to do, but helping each other when needed.

“Saw Lydia leaving on Comanche,” Devon finally commented as he bent to cut a wire. 

“Yeah, she seemed glad to be finally allowed to ride again,” Clinton said.  “Got the go ahead from the doctor yesterday.”

“Is she doing okay?” Devon asked, pausing in his work and looked straight at Clinton. 

“As well as can be expected, I guess,” Clinton shrugged.  He started to dig a hole for the next post. 

“You do know you don’t need to work as much as you are doing,” Devon commented after a brief silence.  “We have plenty of help.  You could spend more time at the house with Lydia and your mother.”

“I’m not sure Lydia really wants me around.  She has barely talked to me since the miscarriage.”

“Believe me; I’m sure your wife wants you around.   But knowing her, she will not ask.”  Devon dropped a wooden pole into a hole he had just dug.  “Emily is pregnant again.”

Clinton paused and looked at his friend.  “Congratulations.”  He tried to put excitement into his voice.

“I’m only telling you because Mrs. Young knows.  She probably has told Lydia by now.”

Clinton nodded.  He measured the hole he was digging with his shovel and saw that it needed to be a little bit deeper, so he continued. 

“I was thinking about something.  You and Lydia married so quickly.  You really didn’t have a chance to get to know each other, to court her like you might have with a woman who lived close by.”

“At the time I didn’t mind that.  I was glad my father arranged for Lydia to come.  I just wanted to work on the ranch.  I didn’t want to take the time to court a woman.  When I first saw Lydia, the first thing I noticed about her was how beautiful she was.  I have never regretted marrying her.”

“Maybe you should take some time and court Lydia now.  Spend time with her.  Go riding with her.  She probably needs that more than we need you around the ranch.  Like I said, we have plenty of help and there are no major problems at the moment.  Go spend some time with your wife.  I promise you won’t regret it.”

Clinton grunted, but he was seriously thinking about Devon’s suggestion.  He might have a point.  Would spending time with Lydia help her?  Could something that simple make her smile again?