Prairie Wife (10 page)

"Did I say something wrong?" William asked Sam.

Sam shook his head. "She's a little tetchy on the
subject."

"Fine daughter you have there."

"Finest daughter a man could ask for," Sam agreed. But
his expression showed more than pride as he watched Amy assisting the women.
Compassion was her nature. She'd always been ready to offer help or sympathy or
just an ear. He'd seen a change come over her after his grandson's death. It
was as though she'd put her life up to that point behind her, and her new life
had started the day after they'd buried Tim.

The briefest mention brought censure. Sam, Jesse, even the help
had been abiding by her wishes for the past year. No one, not even Jesse,
forced her to talk about Tim.

And things had grown worse than that.

Though Sam went home to his own place every night, talk got back
to him that Jesse had been staying nights at the boardinghouse. He couldn't
shake his growing feelings of concern, but he didn't know what to do to help
her.

By
morning, the rain had turned low sections of the prairie into
knee-deep mud. Two of the wagons were mired nearly to the axles, and the tired
teams couldn't budge the conveyances forward. The smells of wet animals and
soggy wool clothing permeated every breath. Amy and her father considered their
slim choices.

"We could try harnessing all the horses to one wagon to pull
it loose," Sam suggested.

Amy nodded, mulling over his idea. "But we'd have to do that
to both wagons, and the animals are already tired. I wouldn't want to risk
injuring them. Besides, how could we even be sure they could continue pulling
the loads once we got the wagons out of these holes? We could easily just roll
into others."

Sam peered at her through the battering rain. "Jesse would
have my hide if his horses came to harm."

"He'd want us safe first," Amy was quick to say.
"But that plan won't guarantee to keep us moving."

Frustrated and wet, Sam and Amy reinforced the shelters. They'd
run out of dry chips and kindling, so they didn't even have warmth or coffee.
The poor travelers they had taken under their wings huddled chilled and wet to
the bone beneath the makeshift tents, forlorn and miserable.

It had been Amy's suggestion to come out here and get them, and
now they were worse off than before. Back at the train, they could have used
coal and wood for fire, and eventually someone would have found them. Amy
berated herself for her shortsighted plan and her stubborn insistence on
coming. Silently, she also cursed the rain. If Jesse had come in her stead, perhaps
he would have done a better job.

One of the women opened a box of chocolates she'd been taking to
her intended husband and shared the confections. Amy ate her ration without
enjoyment, wondering how long they could keep up their strength without real
food.

She pulled a brimming pail under the tent. At least water wasn't a
problem.

After more thought, she took her father aside at the corner of
their shelter. "I think I should take one of the horses and head for the
station."

"No, Amy, it's not safe with the Cheyenne up to no good. You
could run into trouble."

"I don't think we have much choice."

He seemed to consider their options. "I'll go."

She knew he was the wiser choice for the job. Without argument,
she nodded.

Jesse had intuitively placed two saddles under the canvas in the
rear of a wagon, so Sam got a horse ready. Amy touched his arm, refusing to let
herself think of the dangers he might run into alone.

"I'll be fine," he told her.

She nodded and released him. In the past he would have hugged her,
but he merely placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted with a creak of
leather.

Amy ducked back under the tent as he rode out. Hard as she tried
to bridle her thoughts, she imagined him riding through the storm—and sent up a
prayer for his safety.

Less than an hour later, a whinny and the sounds of harnesses
alerted her to someone's approach. It sounded like too many horses to be her
father returning, and Amy stood, peering apprehensively. The Cheyenne didn't
shoe their horses, but on the soggy ground she couldn't tell by the sound
whether the animals were shod.

Through the downpour, she made out two figures on horseback
leading a dozen more horses. Her father and.. Jesse. She'd never been so glad
to see anyone in her life.

Amy ran out into the rain to meet them.

Both men dismounted. A grin split her father's face. "Look
who I ran into."

Rain streamed from the brim of Jesse's hat. "I'd been
following the rails hoping I was heading in the right direction when I saw Sam
riding toward me."

Amy noted the horses he'd brought. "You knew we ran into
trouble."

"Figured as much, with all this rain. You all right?"

She nodded. "Just wet. Who's looking after Cay?"

"Mrs. Barnes. Let's get you home."

She followed him and her father to help harness the additional teams.
Jesse approached one of the mired wagons with a spade and used the tool to
shovel mud away from the axles.

Within minutes the muscle of the additional horses had all three
wagons moving.

Amy and Hermie gathered their belongings and took down the tarps.
"I need some help," Amy called to Jesse.

Jesse responded by hurrying to where Amy stood beside a woman
seated on a crate. She looked to be a little older than him, with dark hair.
She held a shawl tucked around her shoulders.

"This is Eden," Amy told him.

"How do, ma'am."

"Her foot's broken."

Jesse picked up the woman and carried her to a wagon.

"It's 'miss,'" she said from beneath a dripping bonnet.
Her admiring gaze took in his features appreciatively.

"Pleasure," he replied.

"You're a sight for sore eyes."

He nodded politely and hurried to get the teams moving forward,
then climbed onto the seat beside Amy. She handed over the reins and he took
the lead.

"I knew you'd worry," she said.

"Last night when I saw the rain wasn't letting up, I headed
out." He wanted to wrap his arm around her and pull her up against his
side to reassure himself that she was all right.

"I never thought we'd get stuck like that."

"You had no way of knowin' how much rain there would
be."

"Maybe if I'd let you come instead... I just pray no one gets
sick from exposure."

"It wouldn't have been any different if I'd been along,"
he assured her. "In fact, it would have been worse, because you couldn't
have readied more teams and brought them alone."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Somehow his wife had felt responsible for the safety of these
people from the very first. She'd made it a way of life, caring for others; it
was her nature to take on the additional effort. But it didn't set well with
him that she blamed herself for something out of her control. "We'll get
them to the station and have them dry and warm in no time."

Six horses hauling each wagon made for quick travel, and by late
afternoon, they pulled into Shelby

Station. Biscuit darted from the barn, barking excitedly and
sniffing the passengers who climbed down.

Cay hurried out and shushed him, sending him back inside the barn
with a gentle command. When their eyes met, Amy thought he wanted to say
something, but he turned quickly and lent his hand to helping with the animals.

***

Amy had never been so glad to let the hands take over the care of
the horses and wagons. She assigned her guests to rooms at the boardinghouse,
placed a few of the men in the barn and had Adele help arrange pallets in the
parlor.

Mrs. Barnes greeted her with a pat on the shoulder. "Go get
yourself a hot bath and some dry clothes."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Adele and Maggie had hot water and towels at the ready, and it was
so good to be in out of the rain that Amy didn't mind standing in line for her
turn in the bathhouse.

Rarely were all three tubs in use, but this evening they never
stood empty. Adele and Maggie continuously carried water and hung towels around
the stove to dry.

After Amy's bath, she helped the dark-haired woman bathe and dress
and get settled in a room on the main floor of the boardinghouse. Sam had
fashioned Eden a crutch, and Amy gave it to her now. "My father made this
so you could get around in your room."

"How thoughtful of him. He's a dear man."

"I'll bring your supper," Amy told her. "You stay
put and rest that foot. Call out if you need something. There's usually someone
nearby who will hear you."

"You've been so kind already," Eden said, "but I
would surely enjoy a cup of tea."

"I'll see that you get some."

Back at the house, Pitch was helping Mrs. Barnes fry ham and
potatoes.

"Have the hands eaten?" Amy asked.

"They have," Pitch replied. "Mrs. Barnes figured
we'd do a first shift for the guests who've finished with baths and then feed
the rest on the next."

"Good plan," Amy told them with appreciation. She looked
around the roomy well-appointed kitchen. "I wasn't gone that long, but
it's sure good to be home."

Mrs. Barnes swept past her with a plate of sliced bread.
"Some days seem like weeks, don't they? You sit now. I won't take no for
an answer."

Amy sank gratefully onto a bench.

Just then, Jesse opened the door and stepped inside. He'd dressed
in dry clothing and had left his boots out on the porch. He hung his holster on
a peg. "Can I get a meal? Thought I could wait until after the boarders,
but my belly's eatin' a hole in my backside."

"No, you won't wait," Amy told him, and waved him onto a
seat beside her. "Where's Cay?"

"Sticking close to Sam. Helping him with the horses."
She took slices of bread and slathered them with butter and jelly for the two
of them.

Mrs. Barnes placed thick portions of ham on their plates. Pitch
scooped crispy potatoes wedges into a serving bowl. "There's slaw here,
too," he said.

Amy and Jesse ate together, then sat back to enjoy a hot cup of
coffee before the guests from the parlor came in to seat themselves. When they
did, the Shelbys gave up their seats and moved to drink their coffee in the
other room while it was temporarily vacated.

Amy carried in their cups while Jesse stoked the fire in the
fireplace. She sat in her favorite side chair; Jesse took the rocker, crossing
one ankle over the other knee.

"When was the last time you saw so much rain?" Amy
asked.

"Spring. Have you forgotten?"

"I guess I'm never right out in it for that long at a
stretch. I thought it would never stop."

Jesse glanced out the window and rocked the chair with the
stockinged foot on the floor. "It hasn't yet."

"I even felt sorry for the horses."

Jesse turned his blue gaze on her.

The house settled with a creak and a gust of wind whirred down the
chimney.

Jesse's gaze flickered across the clock on the mantel. The time
hadn't been right since she'd stopped the pendulum.

"We sure can get a lot of miles out of talkin' about the
weather, can't we, Amy?"

Cringing inside for fear of what he'd bring up or expect of her,
she sipped her coffee and said nothing.

"Was going the right thing to do?" His question wasn't
what she'd been expecting, but she didn't mind answering it.

"Yes."

"Then I guess you did the right thing."

Amy shrugged. "I'd like to think someone would do the same
for me."

"I'd like to think they would, too."

"Cay did all right while we were away?"

"He did fine. During the day, he helps with the stock and the
chores. Of an evenin' he's hearing stories from the hands, learning to tie
knots and such. It couldn't hurt him to have another influence as well."
Jesse paused, leaving her to wonder what kind of an influence he meant.
"I've been thinking he needs to finish his schooling. I can order books.
Between the two of us, we should be able to teach him."

She wasn't sure what she thought of spending evenings with Cay,
and she hated how selfish that made her feel. "I don't know. How will we
know what he needs to learn?"

Jesse shrugged. "I reckon we could ask Leda Bently what a boy
his age should be studyin'. She teaches her children during the winter."
He jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. "Maybe one of the women in there'd
have an idea."

"Maybe."

He stopped rocking. "If you don't want to help, I'll do
it."