Surrendered on the Frontier Page 14

  I frowned at him. “Well, yes,” I said.

  His eyes shut briefly, and when they opened, they were dark. “Foolish woman,” he said. “You’ll not do this again.”

  I scowled at him and wanted to ask how he planned to stop me, but I knew he’d have his ways. “Samuel, I came here to tell you I’m likely carrying your child, and the first thing you do is threaten to spank me?”

  He frowned. “It wasn’t the first thing I did, and I’m still pleased with what you’ve told me. But woman, you’re the most frustratin’ thing known to man, and knowin’ you could be carryin’ my baby only makes this worse, not better.”

  “Fine,” I said, attempting to momentarily mollify him. “But let’s focus on the most pressing problem here.” I paused as nausea suddenly overtook me again. The barn spun, and my stomach rolled. I felt Samuel’s hands steadying me as he pulled out the stool, sat down, and drew me onto his lap. The unexpected gesture made me feel better, even as the nausea rolled over me.

  “You all right, honey?”

  “Just sick,” I whispered. The nausea passed after a moment, and I looked up at his face. “Samuel? What are we going to do?” I asked

  “About what?” he asked.

  About what?

  “About our predicament,” I snapped, feeling anger rising again. Confound the man!

  He frowned. “Now, woman, you mind your temper. That’s an easy predicament to solve, little Ruth.”

  “Is it, now?” I asked.

  “Course it is. I marry you,” he said, as if the answer was as simple, as, say, “water the horses,” or “weed the garden.”

  I sat up straighter. “Marry me!” I tried to shove myself off his lap but he held tight.

  His eyes darkened. “Of course. Why on earth wouldn’t I?”

  I had no answer.

  “Woman, I’ve been courtin’ you for weeks now. And you mean to tell me marriage hasn’t crossed your mind?”

  Of course it had crossed my mind, but in a way one contemplates a fantasy, not reality. I just never contemplated the fact that Samuel would really want me. But I had to pause at something he’d said. “You’ve been courting me? How did you do this without my knowledge?”

  He snorted. “You think I kiss every pretty little thing that sashays on by me, woman?”

  He’d done more than kiss me, but I’d not make a point of that. There were some things that were better not said out loud.

  “You’d better not,” I muttered, which made him smirk. “Well, why didn’t you tell me that’s what you were doing?”

  “Tell you? I thought you knew,” he said. “When you eat breakfast in the mornin’, do you tell people you’re eatin’ breakfast? Course not. It’s obvious. You have no pa or brother to ask, so why be all formal-like? I wanted to know if you’d have me for a husband. But if you’re carryin’ my child, I would hope you would know the answer to that question.” His voice softened. To my surprise, he removed his hat. “There’s no woman I’d rather have as my own, little Ruth. Will you marry me?”

  I warmed at that. But I had to know. I had doubts. I had fears. “Are you sure you’d really want a woman like me?” I whispered.

  His answer was to thread his fingers through my hair, one hand grasping the back of my neck, as he drew my mouth to his and kissed me, the fierceness of the kiss and his tight grasp on me taking my breath away. When he pulled back, I was panting. His eyes smoldered. “Does that answer your question?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Even though I have a temper?”

  His lips twitched. “I can handle your temper.”

  My voice caught at my next question. “Even though I already have a daughter?”

  He sobered. “I already love your daughter as if she were my own.”

  I closed my eyes, a lump rising in my throat. He pulled my head to his chest and held me. His voice was low when he spoke. “I love you. And I want you all to myself. Will you marry me, little Ruth?”

  I nodded. And it didn’t matter then if I was with child, or a spitfire, or damaged from my past. He wanted me.

  I didn’t know how, or when, but I knew the answer to his question. I inhaled, faced him and nodded my head. “Yes, Samuel. I’ll marry you.”

  * * *

  We heard a clattering by the barn door. I flew off Samuel’s lap moments before the door opened. Matthew stood in the doorway, his hair still sticking up on end, and his eyes looking sleepy.

  “Oh,” he said, obviously startled to see me there. “Mornin’. You all right, Miss Ruth?”

  “I’m fine, thank you, Matthew. I needed to speak to Samuel a moment, but I best be getting back to the house before Hannah needs me.” I ran my hands along the length of my skirt, smoothing it out, nodding to Samuel.

  Samuel handed the milk pail to Matthew. “Please take this on into the house for me,” he said. “I’ll be taking Miss Ruth back to her place, and giving her and Hannah a hand with their chores.”

  “Yes, sir,” Matthew said, taking the pail and looking slowly from me to Samuel. “Miss Ruth, did you come here alone?”

  Confound the Stanley line of bossy men.

  “I did,” I said, managing to avoid Samuel’s eyes. “I had to speak to your brother, but all’s good now. Thank you for the work you’ve done at my place, Matthew.”

  Matthew nodded, his eyes slightly wide. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Bye now.” I turned and left, lifting my skirts. I stepped quickly over the hay and into the sunshine, as it felt suddenly much too hot in the barn. Just outside the door, the sun was now rising and life was stirring upon their farm. I heard Samuel coming up behind me before I felt his hand on my elbow, steering me firmly to where we were alone, out of the view of Matthew in the barn or Ma if she came out of the cabin.

  “All right, now,” he said in a low voice. “The girls are comin’ over today to work with Ma, and we best be gettin’ you home.”

  “Oh, I miss them,” I said. Geraldine I could take or leave, but I yearned to see Pearl. “I can just gather my things after I see Hannah off to school, and come on back. I’ve been so silly staying away from all of you, and I’ve missed you all so much.”

  “Well, now, that’s lovely, honey. But you’re not getting’ out of bed and comin’ over here today.”

  My temper flared. “And why not?” I spat out. “I’m perfectly fine to—” I tried pulling my hand away, but he held fast. He snatched up my hand, and before I knew what was happening, he spun me around, I felt one large hand at my waist and the other landed a stinging wallop to my backside. I closed my mouth and breathed in through my nose. He hadn’t spanked me hard, but merely delivered a firm reminder.

  “What was that for?” I asked like a naughty child, frowning at him.

  “You keep a civil tongue, young lady,” he scolded. I opened my mouth to protest, and then thought better of it. Apparently my delicate condition did nothing to stay his firm hand.

  “All right,” I said, feeling repentant now, between the firm swat, his scolding tone, and the young lady. “If you insist.”

  We were nearing the bend in the dirt road that would take me to my home, and still we walked in silence. My mind teemed with fears and worries. Were Samuel and I truly engaged? Where would we live? How could I marry into the family that didn’t even like me? I wanted to climb back in bed and pull the covers over my head. My stomach rolled with nausea, and my hands felt clammy.

  “You milk Rosy yet?” Samuel asked.

  I shook my head. “I’ll go now,” I said.

  “I’ll milk her,” he said. “You go see if Hannah is awake and once she is, you get yourself back in bed until I come in to check on you.”

  I wanted to protest. Milking Rosy was my job, and Samuel was getting awfully highhanded already. But it seemed I didn’t have the strength to do it. My head felt funny and my eyes had trouble focusing. The nausea rose in my stomach, and I knew I was going to be sick again. I ran to the side of the house and heaved.

  Weak from sickne
ss, it barely registered that Samuel had followed me. I had a vague recollection of Samuel’s arms about me. I remember he placed his arm about my shoulders to support me during the short walk to my room. Then everything went dark.

  Chapter Nine: Everything Precious to Me

  The sounds I heard in my delirium were disturbing. Voices, and screams, and sometimes low murmurs and shouts. I couldn’t differentiate between what I imagined, voices of those around me, or my own voice. Images faded in and out. Hannah as a small child, her innocent face and sweet voice breaking through the shouts of my husband’s drunken escapades. Ma’s voice, low and soothing, and Pearl’s, sweet and clear. And the one voice I longed to hear the most, Samuel’s low, husky drawl. They were all voices, though, sounds, but no words.

  I remember soup lifted to my lips, and water in a cold tin cup. I vaguely recall shaking my head at one point, refusing something on a spoon, shadows passing in front of me when I opened my eyes, and the low voice being the one to come to my side, whispering in my ear. Higher voices cajoling me, and it irritated me. I shook my head and shooed them away. I don’t remember what I said, but I knew it was Samuel, speaking to me in the tone that brooked no argument, somehow convincing me to eat whatever was given me. I slept, and I slept, and I slept.

  I dreamt of smiling, cooing babies with fetching wide eyes, wrapped in soft blankets and nestled in my arms. Babies that had Samuel’s eyes.

  But when I woke up, my reality was unlike anything I’d expected. I heard voices speaking about me, and one I recognized.

  “Leave her be,” the voice continued. “You take Hannah out to go pick them berries you found, and be quick about it, boy. It’s heatin’ up here, and her ma’ll want her soon.”

  Was it Ma? I stirred, but it seemed too much of an effort to open my eyes. I felt a cool cloth upon my forehead, and a low murmur. “Shhh, child. Rest now, love.”

  I sighed. It felt nice to be treated like this. Though I wished to open my eyes and move about, a part of me wished to stay here forever, under the care and concern of someone who loved me. But as much as I appreciated Ma’s gentle touch, there was another I longed for.

  “Samuel?” I whispered.

  I was in my bed; that much I knew. I could feel the familiar quilt above me, when my eyelids fluttered open. I saw just a bit before my eyes closed against the light. I wondered if it was my bed. By the light of the window, it looked about daybreak. How long had I slept?

  “Ah, she’s waking up,” Ma said, and I could see a low stirring in the corner. “But you stay there now. She may take a while yet.”

  Another cool swipe of the cloth, and I tried opening my eyes again. The light was dim, so I was able to make out that I was, indeed, in my own bed, and in the room were Geraldine and Ma, and Samuel sat in the corner. Geraldine was placing a bowl with water in it on my nightstand, and when my eyes opened, she looked at me with concern. She smiled, but then left and went about her duty.

  Ma smoothed the hair off my forehead, and spoke in a soothing voice. “That’s my girl,” she said. “Oh, poor little one. I’ll be right back. I’ll fetch you what you need.”

  I looked about me and could only see one shadowy form in the dark room, bent over with his forearms resting on his legs, his eyes focused on me.

  “Samuel?” I asked quietly. He looked haggard from lack of sleep, dark circles under his eyes, and his beard had grown in thicker than I’d ever seen. He stood, and his clothes were rumpled. He crossed the room in two long strides, and before he reached me, the door opened. Ma stood in the doorway, carrying a steaming mug in one hand and a bowl of soup in another.

  “She’s awake,” she said to Samuel in a hushed tone, and it surprised me that she was speaking as if she didn’t want to startle me.

  “Of course I’m awake,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  She turned to face me, her eyes wide. She blinked before she spoke. “Why, Ruth,” she said softly. “You’ve been asleep for three straight days.”

  I felt my stomach twist. “Have I?” I whispered. I closed my eyes and inhaled. This felt wrong. Something was wrong. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was not what it should be. When I opened my eyes, Samuel was pulling his chair over close to me. Ma handed him the bowl of soup.

  They were speaking in whispers. Why were they speaking in whispers?

  “Where’s Hannah?” I asked.

  Ma swallowed. “She’s staying with me, sweetheart,” she said softly, her eyes not meeting mine. “She was scared being here with you laid up, and it was easier for her to stay with us while we took care of her. Samuel stayed here with you. But Hannah’s gone berry pickin’ with Matthew for now. She’ll be back soon.”

  I blinked, and it felt as if my mind somehow couldn’t catch up to my ears. “Hannah isn’t here,” I said dumbly. “And Samuel’s been with me?”

  Ma smiled then as she walked to the side of the bed. She smoothed the hair from my forehead, and her voice rang with a note of pride when she spoke. “Of course he was,” she murmured. “Why wouldn’t he nurse his betrothed?”

  My heart skipped a beat. She knew. I looked at Samuel, who was merely swirling a spoon in the bowl, his jaw clenched. He looked from me to Ma, and then back to me.

  “Ma, you best be getting home,” he said. “Hannah and Matthew have likely finished their chores and schoolwork. It’d be time now for Geraldine to be heading home as well. I’ll take over from here with Ruth.”

  Ma stood up straight then, and tucked the blanket back around me. “There now, lovely,” she said. She patted my leg, and left.

  I looked at Samuel, who was preparing to feed me. He lifted the spoon now.

  “Come, now, little Ruth,” he said, coaxing. “Open your mouth now.”

  I was not hungry. Knowing I’d been laid up in bed like this, my daughter apart from me, and Ma knowing about our engagement, angered me.

  “No,” I said staunchly. “I am not hungry, and I have much I need to discuss.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he lowered the spoon. “There are many things we need to discuss,” he replied. “But what’s most important at this juncture is you’re doin’ as you’re told. So first, you open your mouth. You may be sick, but I’ll keep a tally on disobedience, young lady.”

  Anger rose in me then, hot fury at all things that were unfair, the unsettled dreams I had, and the knowledge that for days, I’d been in bed and at the mercy of those around me. Ma knew we were betrothed. Did she know about the baby? And I wanted to see my daughter. But why had Samuel promised me a reckoning then? He’d already told me he wouldn’t spank me when I was with child.

  I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. I clutched my sides, drawing my knees to my chest.

  It was then that I knew. The whispered words. The flitting eyes. The regret that tinged Ma’s words. I felt the telltale signs without having made the connection. The realization hit me like dousing torrent of icy rain, chilling me, lashing against my skin, and I fought to push the pain off my chest. It wouldn’t budge.

  I closed my eyes. The effort of keeping my eyes open was too much to bear. When I spoke to Samuel, my voice was a whisper, as I didn’t trust myself to speak too loudly.

  “There’s no baby, is there?” I whispered. “I’m not with child.”

  My eyes still closed, I heard the clink of the bowl lowered to the table as Samuel shifted forward. I felt him lift my hand, and both his hands were around my one.

  “No,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, Ruth. You weren’t sick from carryin’ a child. Others have come down with the same illness you’ve had, and none were with child.”

  My eyes opened to look at his blue eyes, sympathetic and kind.

  “There’s no baby, honey.”

  I slumped against my pillows, the weight still pressed against my chest. I could feel the cramping. I felt the distance between me and Hannah, and I wanted to hold my little girl close. I felt my empty stomach and weakened limbs. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep, as I felt suddenly ver
y, very empty. The effort to talk was too much. It was too much to sit up. I found inhaling deep breaths difficult, even, and opted instead to breathe in and out in slow, measured breaths.

  I wanted to weep. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep.

  I lifted a hand to my brow and draped my arm across my face. I wanted to block it out, everything, shut out the pain and the sadness and hurt.

  I needed something, only I didn’t know what it was I needed until he sat down on the bed, drawing me into his arms and holding me against his chest. I did not cry, though I wanted to. I allowed his strength and fortitude to seep through me. The hurt did not lift, but somehow, I was able to not be crushed beneath the weight of it all.

  “I love you,” he whispered. I could not reply. I nodded, accepting what he offered me, but unable to give him anything in return. We stayed like that a good long while, until I sat up straighter.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m stronger now. Thank you.”

  He released me and stood, picking up the now cold bowl of broth and sitting down next to me.

  “Now, we’ve got to get some of this in your belly, honey,” he said. “We need you better. You’ll not refuse me, Ruth, and if you disobey me, I’ll remember it.” He was trying to be stern. I knew he was. But it was for my own good that he was being stern with me, and I didn’t have the heart to disobey.

  With a sigh, I gave in, opening my mouth and allowing him to spoon feed me some broth. I took one bite after another, not really hungry, and not really enjoying the taste, but as he fed me, he murmured things like, “that’s my good girl,” and “just one more bite now, honey.” As he continued, I realized I yearned for just one more word of praise from him. Somehow, it satisfied a need in me, knowing he was proud of me.

  Even if I couldn’t bear him a child. Even if I couldn’t keep a lid on my temper. Even if I was sick, and weak, and I obeyed him so sporadically.

  Even if we were no longer to be wed.