Shelter in Seattle (7 page)

They were a little heavy but she felt sure she could make it to the river and back with no problems. Julianne balanced the basket on her hip, and then bent down to grab the bag of laundry.

“This isn’t so bad. I can do this.” Julianne made it to the door. She dropped the laundry bag and opened the heavy wooden door, pulled the bag through, dropped it again and closed the door. Beads of sweat tickled down her spine. Julianne glanced down at the baby. He slept soundly with a small fat thumb in his mouth.

She blew pent up air from her lungs and picked up the bag again, and then pulled it down the steps and across the yard.

The thought of cougars, bears and snakes slowed her footsteps. Would Caleb lie to keep her from leaving the house? Was it a mind game like her uncle played to make her do as he wanted? She remembered the serious expression on his face as he’d offered his explanation this morning.

Caleb was a man of God, Julianne knew deep in her heart he hadn’t lied to her. She forced her fears back and began to quote the twenty-third Psalms.

“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in paths of righteousness for his names sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

Julianne swallowed hard. She thought about the words she’d just spoken. They were the only verses she knew, and at the moment they didn’t give her a sense of well being. Still she mentally repeated the words as she stepped into the darkness of the woods.

Unease washed over her. Julianne knew she’d mislead Caleb with her nod when he’d told her not go into the woods without him. But she comforted herself with the white lie that she really didn’t say she wouldn’t go. She’d nodded and that could have meant she understood what he was saying.

She left the path and entered the tall trees. The shade from their branches immediately cooled her brow and made her feel better. Movement in the under brush quickened her footsteps.

Julianne forced herself not to run. She focused on the sunshine that peeked through the trees in front of her. The weight of the laundry bag pulled on her arm and snagged on every root on the forest floor.

The sound of running water met her ears. As soon as she exited the trees, Julianne saw the source of the sound.

The river rushed along in front of her. A small shallow stream broke off from the main body, making it the perfect place to do laundry.

 She set down the baby by the waters edge, but not too close. Rolling her skirt up at the waist, she waded out to a big protruding rock, and then bent and tied the drawstring bag to her leg. Warm water sloshed about her body. She hadn’t realized until she’d entered the water that it must be some branch of a hot spring.

The wet clothes became a heavy pull against her body, but most of the stench would be gone by the time she applied the soap and scrubbed them against a rock. She hung the clean clothing on the bushes that lined the river bank.

Lost in the mundane task, Julianne recalled Caleb’s warning of the dangers if she strayed too far from the cabin. What would he do if he found out she’d disobeyed him? The thought of the woodshed behind the cabin came to mind, and she shivered in spite of the heat.

Her face burned as she remembered his quick hug this morning. He’d made her feel like a woman. A desired woman. Would she be treated like a child for disobeying him?

She allowed her subconscious thoughts to surface. Since the death of her parents, fear and abuse had been her constant companions. Her uncle not only physically beat her, but he’d also told her she was no better than a servant. The mental abuse had been worse than the physical. The most hurtful thing of all had been her aunt’s willing consent to this treatment, always quoting Bible passages about discipline. Was this the way Caleb believed? If so, she was in a heap of trouble, and the woodshed could be the least of it.

Julianne scrubbed the clothes, unaware of the passage of time.

Jonathan’s whimpering pulled her from her reflections. She straightened, arching her back she looked up into the afternoon sky. Had she really been washing clothes that long? Drying clothes rested over rocks and branches all around her. Her back and neck ached from leaning over the water.

Since Jonathan didn’t appear in too much distress, she decided to finish the last two shirts. She knew he had to be hungry and wet. She’d forgotten clean diapers, and not realizing the laundry would take so long, she’d counted on the bottle she’d fed him earlier to be sufficient until she returned to the cabin.

The whimpering turned into angry screeches, and she hurried from the water with the two now clean shirts. As she passed the basket, she looked at him, torn between caring for him and finishing her job. His little face had turned bright red and he waved his fist about.

“I’m sorry, Jonathan,” she called, hoping her voice would calm him. She hung the garments and began to gather the dry ones, folding them and laying them on a fairly clean rock on the river bank.

She raised her voice to cover the wails now interspersed with gasps for breath he was crying so hard. “I’m hurrying, Sweetheart. We’ll be home in a few minutes.”

She turned her back on him and continued to fold the clothes. A sense of inadequacy swept over her. Maybe this job was too much for her.

But you’ve done this since you were twelve
, her mind argued. Every thing was so new to her. Baby Jonathan, Caleb. This vast Washington territory. She should take it easy and get used to things before taking on such a venture. Her husband had paid her debt. She was free. If she didn’t want to, she didn’t have to do laundry.

But you owe him,
her conscience nagged.

Jonathan’s cries stopped. She heard him sucking and sighed. “Poor baby.” He had a habit of sucking his fist when the bottle didn’t get there fast enough. Julianne knew it would be a short reprieve, so she hurriedly folded the last shirt and turned toward the baby.

“No!” Her heart stopped beating.

Chapter 8

The Indian woman looked up from the baby at her breast. White teeth flashed as a smile trembled through the tears running down her face. Two men stood guard behind her, their arms crossed over their chest. Julianne stumbled toward them, sheer black fright building fearful images in her mind. She fell on her knees in front of the Indians.

She pointed at Jonathan whose small fist clasped the Indian woman’s hand that lay protectively on the side of his head. The sound of slurping blended in with the gentle lapping of water.

“Mine,” she stammered. “He’s mine.” Blood rushed to her head causing the breath to squeeze from her lungs. She placed a finger against the pulse in her neck to stem the rapid flow. She would
not
pass out now.

 Julianne reached for Jonathan, and one of the men stepped forward in a silent threat. She sat back on her heels waiting for a blow that didn’t come. She looked up into the face of the warrior closest to her and wondered what tragedy could bring such sorrow to a person’s eyes. Neither man made another move; they just stood silently, watching the young woman feed Jonathan.

Fresh tears joined the tracks already on the woman’s face. She nodded once and brushed the hair off Jonathan’s forehead. Long moments later, after Jonathan fell asleep, the Indian woman gently removed the baby from her breast and held him out for Julianne to take.

Afraid she might change her mind Julianne snatched him to her chest, rocking back and forth, barely stopping the moan threatening to escape. Her gaze moved back to the men. Displeasure showed briefly in their expressions before they melted into the trees, taking the woman with them.

Julianne began to shake and found it difficult to stand. Keeping her eyes on the forest where the Indians disappeared, she backed towards the river. As quickly as her trembling body would allow, she tossed the clothes and empty bag into the basket. She laid Jonathan on top of the clean clothes and ran back through the woods to the cabin. Her heart pounded and her chest felt as if it might burst as she hurried up the steps and through the door.

Once inside, Julianne set the basket and baby on the floor and dropped the bar over the door. Would it be enough to keep the Indians out?

 She scooped up Jonathan and hugged him close. She breathed in his scent and kissed him repeatedly. He whimpered his angst at being awakened, but Julianne didn’t mind the noise. She was just thankful he was safe. She changed his diaper and made him a bottle. Even after his eyes closed, she refused to put him down. Julianne stared into his face, memorizing his tiny features. She’d put him in danger by her disobedience. A beating in the woodshed wouldn’t begin to erase the pain in her heart had something happened to her baby.

Her baby.
She felt a mother’s intense love for this child. The shock of this discovery hit her full force, and she took a quick breath of utter astonishment. When had the baby become a part of her? Never in her life had she been so afraid for another human being.

 A pounding on the door caused Julianne to jump from the chair, then she froze, fearful the slightest movement might alert the person outside to her whereabouts in the cabin. Had the Indians followed her home? Had the woman changed her mind and returned for the baby? Well, they could not have him. She looked around the room for a weapon of some type.

Maggie’s voice penetrated the door and the fear. “Julianne let me in.”

Her relief altered instantly into action. Julianne opened the heavy door and pulled Maggie inside.

“What took you so long? I’ve got to get back and start supper for those men. Wish I had more time to jaw with you, but I don’t.” She looked into Julianne’s face. “What’s wrong girl?”

Julianne placed the bar back into the metal slots on each side of the door.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.” Julianne hugged Jonathan’s small warm body to her. The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she didn’t want to tell anyone about the scare she’d experienced.

Worry laced Maggie’s face. “Has the little tyke been giving you a hard time?”

“A little.” Julianne smoothed the shirt over his small back.

“Well, it does my old heart good to see you caring for him as if he were your own. I was afraid you might not take to the little feller. Here, why don’t you let me hold him while you get those clothes ready?” Reluctantly Julianne transferred Jonathan’s warm body into Maggie’s waiting arms. Maggie took the baby and sat in one of the kitchen chairs.

Her eyes followed Julianne’s movements. “You look plum tuckered out.”

“I am a little.” Julianne carefully placed the clean clothes into the drawstring bag that was still a little damp.

“There has to be an easier way to do the laundry.” She muttered more to herself than Maggie.

“That bad, eh?”

Jonathan whimpered. Julianne’s gaze darted to the baby. Maggie gently jiggled him in her arms.

“When we came up with this idea, I hadn’t planned on having a baby to take care of, too.” She set the bag down by Maggie’s chair.

The older woman stood to leave. She handed Jonathan over with a quick kiss to the forehead. “Well, you’ll get used to it. Women been taking care of their children and doing laundry at the same time, for many a moon.”

“Maggie, is there an Indian tribe nearby?” Julianne adopted a nonchalant pose, needing to confide the afternoons scare, but uncertain if Maggie would mention it to Caleb or not. If she could ascertain her and Jonathan’s safety, then she’d continue the wash as if nothing had happened. On the other hand…

“Why sure there is. Didn’t you see the traders and the Indian men down at the wharf? I’d say they’re closer to you than the town, though, seeing as how they travel the canal right at the foot of yer hill.” She shuffled to the door, clumsily hefting the bag to her shoulder. “Why’d you ask? Did you see something?”

“No,” Julianne noticed that the lie slipped out much easier than the first lie she had told. “I just noticed some marking at the foot of the hill where I wash clothes, and they looked like Indian. I wondered if I should be afraid.”

“Bout the only time I’ve seen the Injuns in these parts get stirred up was when some no count white man was a doing the stirring.”

Julianne lifted the bar and Maggie swung the wooden door open.

“No reason to fret on their account. There’s no danger from the redskin people; it’s those good-fer-nothings at the sawmill you gotta worry about.” Maggie’s features turned to stone as she picked up the bag and left before Julianne could reply.

“Now what do you suppose got into her craw?” she asked the sleeping baby as she shut the door and dropped the bar into place.

Julianne spent the rest of the afternoon straightening the cabin. From the icebox she took a piece of fatback and placed it in the pot of beans boiling on the woodstove. Towards the end of the evening, she slid a pan of yeast bread into the oven and soon the smell of fresh baked bread filled the air.