A place called harmony, p.11
A Place Called Harmony, page 11
Gillian Matheson was a man she didn’t understand, but she couldn’t love him less for it. If he didn’t like this plan she’d come up with of meeting halfway to build a town, they’d think of another way. She wanted his sons to know their father. She wanted to sleep beside him every night until they grew old. She wanted him.
Tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked. She’d wasted five years waiting. That was over. No matter what they did from now on, she would be by his side. He was a man of honor and duty. He’d never promised he’d stay with her in Kansas; in fact, she could still remember the hurt and surprise in his eyes when she’d told him she wouldn’t follow him from fort to fort. The first time, she’d used the excuse that she was going to have a baby. A year later, she’d used the same excuse. When he’d left over a year ago, he hadn’t known about the third pregnancy, and she hadn’t told him. Gillian had no idea he was the father of four sons, not just two. She’d thought to surprise him, but in his weakened state the shock of twins might kill him. Only there would be no hiding the children once he woke.
When she looked up at his bandage, steel blue eyes peeked from beneath the white cotton.
“Daisy? Are you here or am I just dreaming about you again?”
“I’m here, Gillian.”
“Good.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Mind telling me where here is? Last thing I remember was hitting the ground so hard lightning split through my mind.”
“Did you get my letter?”
He slowly nodded, then groaned. “You were in danger. I was riding hard to get to you. Thought you, or one of the boys, might be dying.”
“No, Gillian, I’m fine and so are the boys. The lightning you felt was a bullet flying along your skull. After you were shot, you made it to us thanks to Jessie. We’re all here at Harmon Ely’s trading post.”
“I’ve been to that place a few times. It’s in the middle of nowhere.” He lifted two fingers and caught the tail of her long blond braid.
“You’re here now. You’re with us.” She cupped his chin with her palm. “You came to me, and I came to Texas to be with you.”
His eyes were closed for so long she thought he might have gone back to sleep, yet his fingers still held tight to her hair. Finally, he whispered, “I want to be a real husband, Daisy. I got two boys who need a father. I want to be more than a man who rides in for a few weeks once a year.”
She couldn’t stop crying. He was saying the very words she’d wanted to hear for years. “You’ve been a good soldier on the frontier for years, Gillian. You’ve made your father proud. Now it’s time for you to try something new. Something that will let you come home every night to your sons and to me.”
He took a deep breath as if relaxing for the first time in years and drifted back to sleep.
Resting her cheek on his chest, she listened to his heartbeat, remembering when they first fell in love. He’d told her that the beat of his heart and hers were in time with each other and neither one would ever be happy unless they were close enough to hear the other’s heart.
Daisy slowly straightened and smiled. He’d been right. It took both of them five long years, but they’d come to the same conclusion. They belonged together.
A light tapping sounded against the door. Daisy looked up, feeling ready to face anything since she’d finally talked to Gillian.
Jessie, the girl who’d brought her husband to her, stood at the door holding a ball of yarn and a crochet hook. She seemed afraid to come into the bedroom.
“It’s all right, Jessie, he’s asleep.” Daisy waved her in.
The girl moved closer as if needing to see for herself that the captain was alive. When she reached Daisy’s side, she whispered, “Mrs. Truman taught me how to crochet. She said I needed to practice with this yarn. If you want, I could sit with the captain and practice. If he wakes, I’ll run and get you.”
“That sounds fine. I need to check on the boys. Maybe I’ll take them out back and let them chase chickens for a while. If they catch one, we’ll have chicken pot pie for supper.”
Jessie smiled at her. “The captain’s better, ain’t he?”
“Yes, he is. He even talked to me a little. He’s going to be all right, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am. I sure do hope so.”
As Jessie began to play with the yarn, Daisy moved to the midday warmth of the kitchen. She couldn’t stop smiling. This place, this time might be their only chance left.
There seemed far too many questions and far too few answers, but one thing she knew. Gillian still loved her; she saw it in his eyes. And, for Daisy, that was all that mattered.
Chapter 13
TRADING POST
When Clint Truman and the McAllen brothers came in for supper, they were exhausted but feeling good about what they’d done. Patrick was right about his brother. Shelly was gifted. Clint had always considered himself a fair builder. He’d been part of barn raisings a few times growing up and even built a room onto his parents’ house before he’d gone to war. But the McAllens were way ahead of him in skill. After ten minutes of trying to add his two cents into the mix, Clint wised up and simply followed directions.
They washed up and walked in the back door. Patrick was first, grabbing his wife and swinging her around as he said, “I’ve got a surprise.”
His words were drowned out by Annie’s scream of joy when she saw Shelly follow his brother in.
Clint watched the reunion. He could think of no one he knew that he’d be particularly happy to see come or sad to see go. These three were dancing around like long-lost family, not three people who’d seen one another less than a month ago.
Clint glanced at his wife. She wasn’t even looking at him. She obviously hadn’t missed him. He pulled off his gun belt and hung it on a high nail by the door. While they were eating he wanted the Colt far out of the little Matheson boys’ reach.
Everyone except Karrisa crowded around the table and talked as they passed bowls of food. His wife took her time putting the baby down in his basket on the counter, then joined them without a word.
Daisy reported that the captain was doing better. He’d even talked to her a few times between sleeping.
When Ely joined them, Patrick filled everyone in on the details of what they’d been working on. When he predicted the smokehouse would be ready in two days now that Shelly was here, Clint offered to go hunting as soon as the roof was on. The group around the table would need meat soon or they’d completely deplete Ely’s supply for the winter. A few days of hunting should keep them supplied for a month if game was good, and give Clint treasured silence.
“When you get back, Truman,” Ely said, finally getting a word in, “I want you riding shotgun on the supplies coming in. I sent the order today with a teamster heading south. Within four or five days, I want you riding toward Dallas. It may take you a few days, but I want you to check the supplies, hire drivers, and make sure it gets back here.”
Truman didn’t have to ask. He knew Ely’s shipments were sometimes robbed. One of the men he’d talked to when he’d bought his wagon had told him that there were outlaws who stopped the smaller loads crossing open land and tried to charge a toll.
Harmon Ely continued to talk. He seemed happy to have Shelly but had no idea where to put him up. When Shelly wrote that he’d be happy to sleep in the barn loft, Ely nodded.
As the meal moved to dessert, Karrisa picked up her knitting. She was sitting beside him, but Clint never made eye contact with her. She seemed to be the invisible person in the room. Even Shelly participated by nodding, or shaking his head if he disagreed, or even jotting notes down and passing them to his brother.
Clint’s thin wife only watched.
Daisy took her boys, one by one, to bed while the others fleshed out a dream they all shared of a town on this land where two waters crossed. Only Karrisa remained quiet as she worked on her knitting and checked on her sleeping baby beside her.
Clint knew his job would be protecting this group. He didn’t know how to tell them that he had no goals beyond keeping Karrisa and her baby safe. He’d done the homestead dream once before and all his plans hadn’t turned out.
He was thankful when Ely stood and announced it was time for bed. They all climbed the stairs, saying good night to Daisy. She’d stay beside her husband downstairs. Jessie would stay close, sleeping in the kitchen in case Daisy needed help with the captain during the night.
Once they were alone, Karrisa handed him a new set of clothes. “When I washed your other clothes, they needed mending. I’ll do it tomorrow, but you’ll need clean ones to wear.” She didn’t look up at him as she talked. “I put these on account with Ely. I hope you don’t mind.”
“The account’s open for anything you, or apparently, I need. I’ll settle up with him at the end of the month. You buy whatever you want, dear. We are not rich, but we can afford the necessities.”
She fidgeted a bit as if she’d been unsure she’d done the right thing. Or maybe she’d lived in a world once where the rules constantly changed.
“Thank you,” Clint said, surprised that she’d worry about him. He laid his hand over hers that rested on the garments. All evening she hadn’t said a word. And yet she was taking care of him, almost like a real wife. He didn’t know whether to be thankful that she cared or irritated that she thought he couldn’t see after his own needs.
Before he could comment, she added, “I took up the waist a few inches, but I think the length will be fine.”
He smiled, realizing it had been a long time since a woman worried about his clothes. “I’m not even good at sewing buttons on.”
He caught a brush of a smile crossing her lips before she added, “I noticed. One you’d sewn on your shirt was an inch off the mark.”
“Did you get your dress finished?” he asked, liking that they were talking, even if it was about nothing important.
“Almost. I still have to hem it. Daisy said she’d pin it up for me in the morning after all the men leave.”
“You like Daisy?”
She nodded. “Annie, too. They made me sit down and rest several times today. Daisy said she didn’t get out of bed for a month when she had her first, but I feel fine, Truman, honest I do.”
“Good.” On impulse, he leaned over and kissed her forehead.
He wasn’t surprised when she moved away quickly. Without a word she left the room and when she returned, she’d changed into her nightgown.
Clint picked up his new clothes and headed for the washroom. Since he’d never worn a nightshirt, he slept in his long johns and trousers. That way, if he was needed quickly all he had to do was strap on his gun belt.
As he lay down on his pallet by the window, he thought of what kind of trouble might find him on the road. The ride out would be easy. He’d be on horseback and have both a Colt and a rifle. No one was likely to catch him, must less bother him.
But on the way back, he’d have wagons to watch over. Clint decided he’d take his time hiring good men. Every wagon would have a shotgun beneath the seat. If any gang tried to stop them, they’d be risking their lives.
Tomorrow, while he hunted, he’d go south so he could check out places where he might be ambushed. Then, when he rode out, he’d ride the same trail the wagons would be traveling. He could gauge the miles. On the return, he’d be on horseback, constantly scouting ahead, making plans where they’d be safest at night, looking for any sign of trouble riding their direction.
Clint realized his mind had fallen easily into the pattern he’d used during the war. It had been eleven years since he’d worn gray, but he still remembered every detail. He’d been little more than a boy then, but one mistake, one slip, and the mission would not be accomplished. Men might have died if he missed a detail. He might have died.
Only this time the mission wasn’t war. It meant the survival of a town. No, more than that, it meant the survival of three families.
And one of them was his.
Chapter 14
TRADING POST
When Jessie finished her hour of sitting with the captain, she walked outside and headed toward the creek. All the people at the trading post were fun to talk to and watch, but she needed to be alone. In the camp where she’d cooked she’d often spent days alone. The Osborne brothers never cared if they left her food, so she’d learned to survive. Once, soon after they traded for her, when she’d been about twelve, they’d left her for a month. She would have died of hunger if she hadn’t found a stream. After that she saved the eyes of potatoes and made a crude garden at every camp.
She felt like she’d been just surviving all her life.
Without much thought that she might be seen, Jessie lay down on the winter grass and let the sun warm her. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she wasn’t hungry. She’d eaten more for breakfast than she usually had to eat in a week. All three of the women were kind and willing to teach her things no one else ever had. If she stayed awhile she might learn enough to make it on her own.
“I love this place,” she whispered.
Far down the stream she watched a tall, lean man moving in the shallow water. He had to be one of the McAllen men. The big man in black was Truman. His wide shoulders almost made two of the McAllens. Old Ely never ventured away from the shadow of the trading post, and the captain wouldn’t be out of bed.
Jessie moved closer, curious why a man would stand in cold water.
Thirty feet away she saw his face. Shelly McAllen. The man who never talked. She’d watched him at breakfast. His brother talked and laughed, but Shelly seemed almost invisible.
Jessie liked him, though. He’d picked up his plate and brought it to the washstand when he finished eating. None of the other men had bothered.
As she walked closer, he looked up, nodded once at her, then went back to his work. Slowly, examining rock after rock before deciding, he lifted stones out of the creek and tossed them on the bank.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He looked up at her, but didn’t answer.
Jessie sat down and hugged her knees. “That was dumb of me. I know you can’t talk.”
Shelly McAllen looked up again. When his gaze met hers Jessie saw intelligent eyes.
“You mind if I watch?”
He shook his head.
“If I could read you could write down your answer like I’ve seen you do with your brother, but I can’t read. Never got to go to school.” She straightened, not wanting him to feel sorry for her. “I’m not ignorant, though.”
He didn’t look up, and she guessed he didn’t want to see her lying. She watched him tossing rocks on the bank for a while. When he climbed back on the bank and started stacking them in a wagon, Jessie decided to help him.
“I’m not a kid, you know,” she finally said. “I’m a hard worker.”
Shelly didn’t stop working.
“I figure you and me are more alike than you think. Everybody else has someone, but me and you are alone. Old Ely even has his dog.” She hated herself for sounding like she needed to talk. “You think we could be friends?”
Shelly stopped, set down the rock he’d been carrying, and offered his hand. His strong fingers circled around her small hand as he nodded.
“Good,” she managed, not quite sure why it was so important to her. “I’ll come out and help you when I can, and if you don’t mind, I might talk to you now and then.”
He smiled at her and she saw the kindness in his eyes.
Backing away, she smiled back, thinking they were more alike than he knew.
Chapter 15
Gillian felt like his life was passing by in random lightning flashes. Sometimes he’d wake and it would be morning. He’d talk to Daisy a little before his thoughts began to jumble in his mind. The next time he’d wake it might be still morning, or it might be night. He was never sure if he’d been out for a minute, an hour, or a day.
Now and then he’d try to wake and only make it halfway. He’d be aware of people moving around him. Of little boys peeking over the covers at him. Of his head hurting.
Other times he’d just remain still and listen. Daisy wasn’t the only woman around him. He seemed to be recovering in the middle of a train station, with people coming and going at all hours. Some old white-haired man kept sitting down by his bed and rambling on about roads being wide enough or asking if Gillian thought ten rooms were enough for a proper hotel. All the time he patted a hairy old yellow dog.
Once he woke and found Daisy sleeping on top of the covers beside him. He turned slowly and studied her every feature in the soft glow of a bedside candle.
She’d been the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. When she’d first smiled at him he thought his heart might explode. From that moment, he’d loved her. Once he’d seen Daisy, he’d never looked at another and he had a feeling he never would. The problem was, loving Daisy seemed easier than living with her.
Her family was huge and well off. Every one of her brothers and sisters had houses of their own, all within sight of the main house. From the moment they told the family they’d like to marry, Daisy’s big brothers started planning his life for him. They’d marry and move into the little house where all the newlyweds lived during their first year. Like everyone else, Gillian and Daisy would have breakfast on their own, but lunch was always served in the field, or orchard, or barns where the men were working. Dinner was at the big house—every night with all the family.
Gillian had gone along with everyone at first. When they’d married, food was delivered to their door the first four days so they could have a honeymoon. Then Gillian was expected to quit the army and join the workforce.
He used up his month of leave trying to fit in but finally told everyone he had to go back to the fort. The thought that she wouldn’t come with him had never crossed his mind, and he wasn’t sure he believed it even when he rode away with her crying.
