Year of Jubilee (3 page)

He shook his head. “No, ma’am, but I
attended his funeral.”

Likely story.
She tightened her lips
and pressed her cheek to the cold barrel of the gun, focusing him
in her sights. “How’d he die?”

* * *

Rafe paused and wondered at the coolness of
her questions. It was difficult enough to tell someone their
husband had keeled over dead, but should he reveal the truth? He
glanced down and kicked at a clod of dirt hanging on the
shovel.

“Ma’am, I have no reason to hide facts. He
cheated at cards and Mose Brown shot him clean through.” He paused
to gauge her reaction. When she gave none, he continued. “Mose is
in jail now, waiting judgment.”

She stood with that pitiful gun. More than
likely the weapon was more hazardous to her than him. Her lack of
reaction set him to digging, and he was on his way back to start a
new row when she finally spoke.

“You own this land now?”

He stopped again and nodded. “Yes,
Ma’am.”

She let out a shuddering breath.

“I apologize about all this being sprung on
you, but Colvin never mentioned a spouse. As a matter of fact, he
assured me the place had been empty for six months.”

Rafe dug the sharp edge of the shovel into
the sod with new effort. A wife
.
Or worse yet,
a
widow.
A very neglected one. Anger roiled inside him. He wished
Colvin were alive so he could thump the side of his head with this
shovel. Here he’d purchased this land in the middle of nowhere,
intending to build a successful farm, recover from humiliation, and
avoid female entanglements. Now, he’d inherited a widow.

With teeth gritted, he tore into the soil.
After turning over another three rows, he paused. She still stood
there. Fine. He’d tell her the way it had to be.

“Listen, I’ll be glad to pay your fare
anywhere. You just let me know, and I’ll go to town and buy you a
stage or a steamer ticket. Shoot, I’ll even buy you a horse if
that’s how you wanna go. Colvin had no business doing this to you
and, as his cousin, distant though we were, the least I can do is
get you home.”

Rafe had never seen hope slide off of a
person’s face quite like it did from hers. Her skin paled and her
mouth parted. The small woman’s intense eyes, dark as night,
pleaded. For what? For kindness? For understanding? For help? Rafe
wasn’t sure. Despite the mixed messages, he recognized the despair
in the sag of her body. Uneasiness teemed in his gut.

She shook her head, her voice a mere
whisper. “There’s nowhere.”

“Surely you’ve got somewhere you can go.
Your folks’ house maybe? An aunt or uncle or even a cousin?”

She glanced away and the shotgun lowered
until the barrel stabbed the ground. “I’m an orphan.”

Agh, of course.
The way his luck ran,
what else would she be? Rafe took his frustration out on the ground
once more, deftly covering three extra rows before he stopped. An
orphan.
An orphan.
He straightened and stared at her. What
must it be like to have no one?

Rafe shook his head. He had no clue. He’d
grown up in a large family with many brothers and sisters,
surrounded by aunts, uncles and cousins. For a moment, he put
himself in her shoes
.
Being an orphan would be horrible. He
glanced back up. No, not horrible, because she wouldn’t know the
difference. How sad. He sighed. What a mess.

She spun, threw the shotgun to the ground,
and took off like a deer toward the woods. He stepped away from the
garden and watched her run, barefooted no less, across the field.
Good gravy. What now?
He tossed the shovel down and strode
to the pan of bacon. Another one of her disappearing acts. He was
getting nowhere fast. Well, at least food would be waiting when she
returned.

He marched to the back door of the shack and
entered. Again, the absence of material things struck him. To his
left was a trunk, to his right, the mattress. An old trestle table
with two bench seats sat in front of a cold fireplace. Other than
the herbs hanging from the ceiling that totaled out the entire
cabin’s furniture. No shelves, dry sink, chairs, rockers,
cabinets—nothing.

He bent to retrieve the bucket and tin
plate. Outside, he washed them and refilled the container with cool
water. He returned to the table where he loaded the platter with
bacon.

For the rest of the day, he threw himself
into work. He finished digging the garden and raked the soil out.
Next, he repaired the fence, noting the supplies he’d need. Horse,
tethered inside the would-be corral, nipped at the fresh grass,
eyeing his owner’s busyness. Rafe bent his back in the task of
cleaning a stall for the animal before dumping the vile water from
the trough and filling it with clean from the hand pump. Every once
in a while, he paused and perused the woods.

The stumps came next, and he turned most of
them into firewood, stacked almost past his head, several layers
deep against the cabin. After a quick lunch, he assessed the damage
of the cabin’s roof and front porch. He added more lumber to his
growing list of needed items. On toward dark, back aching, Rafe
cleaned the barn. Was the woman gone for good? He grunted as he
tossed straw into a pile.

Well, if she never showed herself again,
that would solve his problem.
Or would it?
He stuck the
pitchfork into the ground with a little too much force, strode to
the door, and looked out. He sighed and crossed his arms. No. Now,
worry for her needled him
.

* * *

Jubilee arrived at the creek in record time.
Her breathing slowed as she stood, hands resting on her hips. She
had to think…why couldn’t she think? At last she bent and gathered
the fishing line she’d hidden under a log. She tried not to
concentrate on being homeless, but moisture rushed to her eyes and
her heart ached.

Finding a bare spot in the soil, she raked
with a sharp stick. Soon, she was rewarded with several plump
worms. Tears fell to the ground as she snatched them up and wound
them around the hooks. She sniffed as she collected the rock with
the hook tied at the end of the long piece of an old sweater’s
yarn. With all her might, she slung it into the water and repeated
the process with the other two.

Finally, she settled on her favorite log and
stared across the creek. Now what? Where to go? To return to the
Orphan Society in Philadelphia was out of the question. Her
eighteenth birthday had come and gone. And Mrs. Galston had no
further affection for her than any other bound-out stray. Besides,
the rich widow would be furious at her unexpected departure. She
swallowed. No reason to re-live that horrible night.

Maybe she could return to Philadelphia and
throw herself at the mercy of the Society’s board and beg for help.
Yet she knew it wouldn’t, in all probability, put her in a better
situation. Pastor Sheffield talked about God taking care of folks.
Perhaps his preaching had been some big lie. Was it really true?
Had she been carried away by his gentle smile and green eyes?

Yes, she confessed. She’d had a horrible
crush on the man, even while his dear wife sat with their three
kids on the front pew. She’d adored him and hung on his every word.
With a shiver, she took a deep breath. But she’d learned about the
Lord, too, and she’d given her heart to Him.

She sighed. No sense sitting all day and
gathering wool. None of these ideas would solve her trouble. Her
stomach reminded her lunch approached. She rose and searched for
greens and onions, stopping to check her pitiful rabbit trap as she
walked. As if any animal were stupid enough to run inside and kick
out the stick. Tears moistened her eyes and she rubbed them away.
Face it. I can’t even take care of myself.

Jubilee passed the time with her meager
lunch and paced the property, delaying the obvious outcome. Her
hopes for a home of her own were shattered. This stranger owned
this land, and she had to go.

* * *

The dimness in the barn made Rafe call it
quits for the night. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, walked to
the door, and surveyed the farm. Already the yard looked better.
And by the end of the summer, it’d be a different place.

His eyes darted towards the woods, wondering
about Colvin’s widow. His thoughts stopped short. Why, he didn’t
even know the woman’s name. His gaze raked the tree line once more.
Where was she? She needed to eat. Had she found something? He shook
his head in frustration. Here he was taking her on to raise.
What a dolt.

There had to be a solution to fix this
situation. It would be cruel to send her away, a woman with no
means to support herself. She’d already been abandoned and
practically starved to death. He could hire her for sundry
household duties, but… A hoot owl’s haunting echoes reverberated
outside and he paused, clenching the pitchfork handle in his hand.
Somehow he had to formulate an agreeable arrangement.

He exhaled a rush of air and laid aside the
pitchfork. A large portion of the barn was finished, so he picked
up his rifle. The bacon in his saddlebag would make one more meal.
He glanced at the sky. Just enough light left to hunt. And, as much
as he hated feeling responsible for the woman, he knew they both
had to eat. He saddled Horse and set out to find some game.

* * *

Jubilee glanced at the sky as the light
turned orange. Hiding wasn’t the answer. Besides, she trembled with
hunger. After she checked the fishing lines, she knew there’d be no
fish tonight. The air she inhaled chilled her lungs, and she closed
her eyes in acceptance. She had no choice but to return to the
cabin. Shivers ran down her spine, either from the thought of
returning or from the chilly wind that had picked up, or both.
Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she set off back across the
field.

As she approached the outhouse, she slowed
and became wary. No fire burned near the garden like yesterday. Her
eyes scanned the area and spotted a new campfire about thirty paces
from the barn. Her skin was numbed by now from the cool air, and
her feet raw and frozen. Maybe getting close to the fire wouldn’t
be such a bad idea. Could she outrun this big man? Doubtful.
Outrunning an inebriated Colvin had been a different matter.

Reluctantly, she approached the ring of
flames. She squinted at his kneeling form lit by the campfire, and
he grabbed the rifle and cocked it, aiming in her general
direction.

“Who’s there?” he demanded.

His tone made her want to flee back to the
woods. But she stood her ground and called out, “It’s me.”

The rifle instantly lowered, and she stepped
into the circle of light. He had a tripod set up and a pot, full of
something bubbling, caught her eye and her nose. Her stomach
growled.

“Have a seat.” He indicated a bench across
from him.

Jubilee wondered where such a bench had come
from, but pushed the thought away as she tentatively sat down. Her
eyes shot around the dark landscape, reminding herself that she
knew the lay of the land better than he. Surely a dozen hiding
spots existed just around the barn.

“I’ve cooked up some rabbit stew.” His voice
rumbled low. “Don’t suppose you’ve got bowls? It’d make eating a
lot easier.”

She jumped up like a bee had stung her.

“I’ll get bowls.” She took off through the
darkness, trying not to run lest it indicate her fear. At the
cabin, she quickly gathered the bowls and spoons and made her way
back to the fire. Handing them to him would prove a tricky
thing.

* * *

Rafe eyed her. By his estimation, she was
plumb out of her mind with fright. He spooned the thick stew into
the dishes, wondering how he’d hand it back to her given her
reluctance to approach him. He chose to stretch out as far as he
could without actually standing and setting it on the ground. She
all but snatched it, yet didn’t devour the contents as Rafe
would’ve suspected.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He stuck the spoon in the
hot stew.

They ate quietly for a few moments. Then
Rafe spoke. “No fish today?”

She shook her head, her eyes drifting back
and forth from him to her meal.

“I guess we oughta talk,” he murmured. “It’d
be easier if I knew your name.”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug.
“Jubilee.”

“Have you thought of a place to go?”

Again, a shake of her head.

“I see.” He went back to eating. “You need
some more?”

“No.”

She could probably barely eat what he’d
given her. He helped himself to a second portion and didn’t speak
again until they had both finished.

“Okay, I’ve been thinking about this all
day.” He paused and fixed his gaze on hers. “I gotta lot of work in
store for me on this property.”

She clenched her hands in her lap and stared
at him with those huge, dark eyes. The fire’s light revealed dirt
smudges across her forehead. He returned to focus on the
campfire.

“It might work to have a little help around
here. Like a ‘business arrangement,’ of sorts.” His eyes flicked
back to her.

The woman’s eyebrows drew together. Rafe
cleared his throat and kept talking.

“You’d stay in the cabin and cook dinner and
clean up. I’ll occupy the barn. You could also tend the garden, put
up the harvest, and take care of the barn animals.” He paused as if
he’d just thought of something, “You do cook, don’t you?”

Hesitantly, she nodded.

Satisfied with her answer he continued,
“I’ll clear the land and plant the crops according to my plan. I’ll
make sure we have food, clothing. The basics. The whole thing will
sort of be a cooperative effort.”

The woman’s hand set to kneading the fabric
of her skirt. His eyes narrowed. What was going through her brain?
Didn’t she understand the arrangement?