Romancing Olive (12 page)

Olive looked away quickly, picking up dishes and turning to the sink. Jacob wondered why and when he began to think of a future and the time in between now and a harvest that included Olive.

“That would be nice, Mr. Butler. I don’t imagine John and Mary and I will be here for the canning but I’d be happy to help get your garden started,” Olive said.

So this is how it will be, Jacob thought. Just as well that the Spinster Wilkins leaves soon. Jacob rose, thanked Olive for the meal and motioned the boys to follow.

* * *

“When’s the fall?” Peg asked.

“What do you mean, Peg?” Olive asked.

The girl’s lip trembled. “Is that when you’re leaving us? And taking John and Mary, too?”

“Oh, Peg,” Olive said. “We can’t live here forever. This is your home. Mary and John are my responsibilities. My home and theirs too, is back in Philadelphia.”

Olive sat down and pulled Peg into her lap. The little girl cuddled against her and Olive continued, “Your father, someday, will meet a nice woman and fall in love. A young woman and then maybe you’ll have more brothers and sisters.”

Peg’s eyes darted. “But I don’t want more brothers, I want you and Mary.”

Olive rocked Peg slowly. “Well enough of this. We’ve got lots of laundry and since I don’t have any idea of what to do, you’ll have to help me.”

“Ya never done washin’?” Mary asked.

“No, Mary. I sent my soiled clothes to a woman down the street and she returned them clean.”

Mary and Olive carried the dirty clothes outside and filled the kettle with water.

“What if me and John want to stay with Jacob?” the girl asked.

“John and I,” Olive replied

Mary huffed and asked again. “What if John and I want to stay with Jacob?”

Olive stirred the clothes in the hot soapy water. “I’m hoping that soon, very soon actually, you’ll want to return with me to Philadelphia.”

Mary was quiet as she dumped more dirty clothes in the water and retrieved clean ones from the pot. “Why can’t you stay here with Jacob? He doesn’t beat you or nothing.”

“It isn’t proper or right, Mary, for us to remain together unmarried. Mr. Butler has been kind allowing me to stay this long,” Olive said.

“Marry him then,” Mary said.

“I can’t just marry him. Marriage is sacred and requires both parties to love and be committed to each other. Mr. Butler and I don’t love each other,” Olive said.

Mary stared at Olive openly. “I saw him kissing you last night. My Ma kissed lots of men but she only kissed my Pa like you was kissing Jacob.”

Olive’s face fell and turned three shades of red. “Mary! I . . . I . . . that’s not . . .you shouldn’t have been . . it was a mistake . . . I”

Olive’s fluttering fell silent as Peg pointed to a man on horseback approaching the farm.

Olive squinted as the man came closer and Mary edged up to her. Olive looked down to Mary’s face and saw wide eyes and fear. “Do you know this man?”

Mary nodded and the rider dismounted. Olive watched him limp and the filthy clothes he wore shed dust. His battered hat shaded his face and Olive swallowed nervously at the grim, despicable picture he made.

“Good morning, sir,” Olive said.

The man eyed Olive from under the brim of his hat, rolled a lump of tobacco from one cheek to the other and spit a long stream of juice.

“Ya look just like that lying, cheatin’ lazy piece of crap that Sophie got herself hitched to.” The man turned his regard from Olive to Mary. “Come on girl, git yer brother. There’s crops to be brung in and your grandma needs help with the cookin’ and such.”

So this was the man the sheriff had warned her about. The same man, Olive realized now, that had stared so menacingly at John the day they had gone to town for supplies. Olive reached her arm around Mary and could feel the terror emanating from the child. Peg was wrapped in Olive’s skirts and her dark eyes were as round as saucers. “Just a moment. She’s not going anywhere,” Olive said.

“That so,” he said and spit again.

Olive eyed the wet spot on the ground where he had spit inches from her skirt. She had no idea what she would do if this man decided to take Mary by force.

“I’m Sophie’s daddy and I needs the youngins’. So git the boy and do it fast. I ain’t in the mood for no lip from some schoolmarm,” Jeb Davis said.

“You said in your letter there was no one to care for these children. I’m her Aunt and I intend to raise her and her brother. Mary, take Peg and go in to the house,” Olive said.

Mary looked up at Olive and back to her grandfather. Her face was white. “I ain’t getting my stuff. I won’t go with him. I’ll run away.”

Olive smiled confidently although her stomach churned. “Of course not, Mary. You and John are not going anywhere. Go into the house.” Olive said again to Mary, but her eyes did not leave Sophie’s father’s face.

Olive felt Mary back up and Peg turn out of her skirts. The two inched backward till their legs hit the landing and they turned and scurried across the porch. Thankfully, Olive heard the bar drop across the door.

“That weren’t too smart. Them kids is my girl, Sophie’s. I told ya I need the help. They’re mine, by rights. Not git outa the road,” he said.

Olive stepped between him and the porch. “Those children don’t belong to anyone. Not you or me or anyone. And certainly they were not meant to be your plow horses. Now, get off of this property.”

Olive never saw the fist coming. Only knew when she hit the ground that he had punched her. Her ears rung and her glasses flew and she felt blood trickling from her mouth. She pulled herself up on all fours and felt blindly for her glasses.

The man stood above her, laughing, as Olive ran her hands through the dirt. He pulled his leg back and stopped when a voice came from inside the house.

“Better not,” Mary shouted.

The man chuckled an evil sound, and recocked his leg. The booted blow to Olive’s midsection would have knocked her senseless had it not been followed by a blast of shot into the dirt. Olive yelped with fear and the man clenched his fists.

“I’ll kill you, ya little bitch, git out here,” he shouted.

“Stay in the house. Lock the doors,” Olive screamed. Another shot reverberated in the air and Olive rolled on the ground. She heard steps on the porch and could vaguely see Mary standing feet spread with the shotgun pointed at her grandfather.

“That guns a shaking so bad girl, you’ll never hit me. Now put it down and git your things, fore I git mad enough to beat some sense into ya.”

“I’m not going with you, ever. And neither is John. And I know that if you’re on the wrong end of a shotgun, especially within spittin’ distance, you don’t stand a chance,” Mary said.

The man eyed the girl and the woman on the ground. “We’ll see about that.” He spit again and turned to mount up. Olive heard and felt the pounding of horse hooves and turned to find Peg holding her glasses.

When the rider was out of sight, Mary dropped the gun and ran to Olive and Peg. Tears streamed down her face and she fell to the ground on her knees, shaking. “Aunt Olive, are you all right? Don’t die. Please don’t die.”

The last conscious thought Olive had, before tumbling into darkness, was that Mary had called her ‘aunt.’

* * *

Jacob heard the shotgun blast and stood straight looking back across the fields. Another. Mary would’ve never fired that gun twice, if there hadn’t been real trouble. He left the horse standing and began to run through the muddy plowed ground. The boys followed and he could hear John’s wailing and Luke’s encouragement. By the time he could see the house Jacob was sweating and winded. He was still running full tilt when Peg spotted him and began to run to him, crying. The child flew into his arms and he stopped a moment to catch his breath and soothe his terrified daughter.

“What happened Peg? Is everyone alright?” he asked.

“Aunt Olive,” the child cried and he looked up to see Mary trying to lift and drag Olive across the porch.

“My God, Mary, what happened?” he said as he put Peg down and ran to the steps. Olive’s face was bloody and bruises were already forming.

Mary wrung her hands and Jacob could see she was near hysterical.

“My grandpa come for John and me. He beat up Aunt Olive. Don’t make us go, Jacob. I’m sorry,” Mary said.

The girl continued gibbering and apologizing when Jacob opened his arms to her. Mary blew a breath hard through her mouth, looking at Jacob’s outstretched hands. Fear, he supposed launched her into his arms and she clung to him, quivering. She sobbed and Jacob rubbed her hair and back and shushed her.

“Nobody’s leaving, Mary. Not if they don’t want to. Now help me with Olive,” he said.

Jacob bent to pick Olive up from the twisted heap she lay in. Her head fell back over his arm as he carried her into the house and laid her on the bed. Mary went for water and rags and the boys ran through the door.

“What happened?” Luke cried.

John ran to his sister and she hugged him. He walked slowly to Olive lying stretched out on the bed and watched her chest rise and fall. Jacob saw the boy’s terror grow and he pulled the child close to him.

“She’s going to be fine, John. Rub her hand so she’ll wake up,” Jacob said.

The boy, white faced, nodded grimly and knelt beside Olive.

“Now tell me what happened, Mary,” Jacob said as he washed the dirt from Olive’s face. Her lip was split and her mouth already a swollen mess. Mary recounted her grandfather’s visit and Peg held her hand as she did. When Mary told Jacob that the man had kicked Olive, he felt the blow in his side as if he had received it. In his mind, he saw Olive, facing the danger alone to protect Peg and Mary. When she was done talking and shaking wildly now from the retelling, he stood up from Olive’s side and went to Mary and put his hands on her shoulders.

“You did the right thing,” he said.

Mary nodded and bit her lip. Jacob turned back to Olive and touched the angry cut on her mouth. She groaned and Jacob called to her.

Olive awoke with a start and shouted, “Mary, Peg, where are you?”

“They’re here Olive. They’re fine. What hurts?” Jacob asked.

Olive laid her head back and closed her eyes. “Everything. My side the most. Mary’s grandfather . . .”

“I know Olive. Mary told me the whole thing. I wished you would have gone in the house as soon as you saw a stranger,” Jacob said.

“So do I,” Olive said grimly. She opened her eyes and saw John by her side. His lip trembled and she held up a limp hand to his face. “I’ll be fine, John.”

“My, god,” Olive said and nearly sat straight up. “Where’s Mark?”

“He’s here, Aunt Olive. Slept through the whole thing.” Mary said.

Olive looked at her niece and tears came to her eyes. “You saved my life, Mary.” Mary’s lip trembled. She smiled tentatively and Olive held her hand out to the girl. Mary stepped closer.

“And all along, I thought I was here to save you,” Olive said.

All heads turned as they heard hoof beats coming hard. Jacob grabbed the shotgun and went out the door. When Olive heard Jack Steele’s voice she breathed a sigh of relief. The two men talked softly on the porch until Jacob came back inside. “Jack heard the shots and he’s going to get Beth to see to you, Olive.”

* * *

Olive awoke from a fitful dream to find Beth Steele’s gentle hand on her face. “Sit up for me if you can, Olive. I want to wrap your ribs and put your nightgown on you.”

“Where are the children and Jacob?” Olive asked.

“Out in the barn.”

Olive touched her chin lightly and grimaced in pain. She looked up as the other woman stared at her kindly. Olive’s lip began to tremble and she gave in, away from all other eyes but this woman, to the fear still trapped in her throat. As she sobbed, Beth held her and rocked. 

“The bruises will heal, Olive. You’ll be as good as new in a week.”

“That’s not it, Beth,” Olive admitted. “My appearance has never meant much to me. It’s just . . .”

There was silence in the small cabin until Beth asked, “Just what, Olive?”

“I was terrified,” Olive said as she looked Beth in the eye. “Not for myself, but if he had taken or hurt Mary or Peg or Mark, I don’t know what I would have done. I’ve never been so afraid in my life,” Olive finished in a whisper.

Beth’s eyes softened. “Mother’s will do anything, anything for their children. Including laying down their life. I know. I have two children of my own.”

Olive lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Peg and Mark aren’t my children. Even Mary and John aren’t mine. But even still,” Olive ended quietly and turned to face Beth.

Beth tilted her head. “You’re more a mother than Mary and John ever had. And you can’t tell me that Peg and Luke haven’t warmed to you. I saw it at the picnic. I see it in their eyes today. They’re worried about you, they love you.”

Olive’s vision of Beth suddenly swam and her lip trembled, yet again. “Oh, God, Beth, how will I leave them. I love them, too. I never knew, never expected things to turn out the way they have.”

“Jacob will miss you as well,” Beth said.

Olive turned her head. “I don’t think so.” She looked at her hanky and smiled ruefully. “I would have never dreamed when I arrived, I’d end up living here. Getting to know Jacob and his children. But we’re adults, with responsibilities and certainly different ways. The age difference alone has made things awkward. He has been kind, though.”

“Oh, Olive,” Beth said. “A man being kind doesn’t need held back from going to beat Jeb Davis within an inch of his life. Jacob feels more than that.”

“I believe Mr. Butler appreciates the things I’ve done with the children. He would be grateful,” Olive said.

Beth chuckled. “Yes, I suppose he is grateful. Now let me get you changed.”

Beth had Olive propped up and in her nightgown when she heard pounding outside. “What’s going on?” Olive asked and held her aching head.

“I don’t know,” Beth said and leaned over the sink to see outside.

“Mr. Butler? What are you doing? Mr. Butler?” Olive called out.

A moment went by until Olive saw Jacob’s large frame fill the doorway.

“Do you need something, Olive?” he asked.