A Journey of the Heart Collection (40 page)

The young woman dropped the uniforms beside the kettle of water. “Sure and it's myself, Maggie O'Donnell, you'll be wanting, miss. Me mam, God rest her soul, has been with the angels these last two years. The childbed fever took her when Mary here was only six days old.”

“I'm sorry.” Emmie was intrigued with the energetic young woman. A child raising a child. Judging from her accent, she wasn't too long out of the potato fields of Ireland. “How long have you been in America?”

Maggie dumped a uniform into a galvanized tub and proceeded to scrub it vigorously against the washboard. “Me da brought us to the wondrous city of New York just four months before Mary arrived. He took a job with the railroad and moved us to Chicago. But the Lord saw fit to take him of the consumption before he clapped eyes on Mary.” She leaned forward and said in a whisper, “Between you and me, miss, I think me mum died of a broken heart. She had no reason to go on with me da gone.”

“And you've been all alone since?”

“Just me and Mary taking care of each other.”

“How did you get out here in the wilderness?” Emmie was fascinated by the young woman's self-confidence and independence.

“A chum of me da's heard the army had a need for a washerwoman out here and arranged for me to have the job. It's hard work, it is, but honest.” She saw the expression on Emmie's face. “But don't feel sorry for me, miss. It's better work than I could get in Chicago. The only offer I had there was in a bawdy house. But I'd have taken even that if it meant the difference between watching young Mary starve or no.” Maggie stood and pushed a stray black curl out of her eyes. “When you be needing your laundry done by?”

“Tomorrow is soon enough.” The last thing Emmie wanted to do was add to this young woman's burden.

“Won't be no problem at all. It's been real nice talking to you. Most ladies don't bother with the likes of me.” Maggie grinned cheerfully. “Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I don't have nothing in common with those highfalutin' types anyhow. But you're different, miss.”

“Please call me Emmie.” She held out her hand.

Maggie eyed her outstretched hand cautiously
before wiping her own water-roughened hand against her apron and taking Emmie's fingers gingerly. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Emmie.”

“Just Emmie. I'd like to be friends.” She didn't know why it was so important to her, but it was. Something about the young woman drew her irresistibly. She didn't know if it was Maggie's indomitable spirit or harsh circumstances, but Emmie just knew that she wanted to be able to call her a friend.

Maggie's eyes grew wide. “Friends with the likes of me?” Unexpectedly, her eyes welled with tears. “Don't mind me,” she sniffled. “Ever since we got here, it's like I'm a spirit or something. The other ladies all look through me, and I can tell they think Mary is me own lovely daughter and that I'm an indecent woman.”

Emmie's throat grew thick with her own tears. What would everyone think of her if they knew the truth? “I'll be back tomorrow.”

Emmie waved to little Mary and set off toward Amelia's quarters. She was awed by Maggie's spirit and courage. At least Emmie had Sarah and Rand to look to for support. The young washerwoman had no one but was still able to smile at circumstances and find a way to support herself and her sister with
honest hard work. Was she a Christian, too, like the Campbells? Maggie's courage shamed her.

Emmie rapped once on Amelia's door and slipped inside. The curtains hadn't been opened yet, though it was afternoon. “Amelia? Are you all right?”

Amelia looked up with a forced smile from her seat on the cot that served as a sofa in the parlor. “I was hoping you'd stop by. I was just sitting here feeling sorry for myself.” Her smile was gone and tears hung on her dark lashes.

“Why, whatever is wrong?” Emmie quickly crossed the room to put her arms around her.

“I'm just being a silly goose.” Amelia sniffed. “For the first time I'm really frightened about having this baby. What if something's wrong with it? Or I could die and leave Jake all alone with a child to raise. Women do die in childbirth, you know.”

Emmie hugged her. “You'll be fine, I know. You're strong and healthy,” she said with more conviction than she felt. She and Sarah had discussed how fragile their friend had been looking the last few weeks.

“I'm not afraid to die. I know I'll be with the Lord, but I just don't want to leave Jacob all alone.” Amelia scrubbed at her cheeks with the back of her hand, then turned and looked Emmie squarely in the face. “There is one thing you could do that would make me feel better.”

“Anything. You want a cup of tea?” Emmie half rose to her feet, but Amelia pulled her back down and gripped her arms.

“I want you to promise that if anything happens to me, you'll marry Jacob and take care of him and the baby.”

Emmie caught her breath. What was Amelia saying? She tried to draw away, but Amelia kept a tight grip on her arms.

“I mean it, Emmie. I've thought about it a lot. It would solve your problems too. Jacob would love your baby. He loves children, you know. It would make me feel so much better if I was sure they would be all right no matter what happens.”

Emmie couldn't think with Amelia's beseeching blue eyes fastened on her. How could she ask such a thing? But Amelia had never been like other women. She always thought of others first and never seemed to consider her own feelings.

“You can't just plan Jacob's life for him like that,” she said desperately.

“He has already agreed. He pooh-poohed my fears, but he said he'd do whatever I wanted if the worst happened.”

For an instant, an image of Isaac's auburn hair and blue eyes swam across Emmie's vision, but she pushed it away. That wasn't reality. Her friend was reality. But really, what were the odds of anything happening to Amelia? She was just suffering from pregnancy jitters. Everything would be fine. She just needed a little assurance right now.

“I promise,” she said.

Amelia smiled. “I feel so much better. Now I'll take that cup of tea.”

SIX

S
uch a lovely day with winter right around the corner. The buglers sounded a tune as Emmie hurried along the path to her house. She couldn't wait to tell Sarah about Maggie. The cabin smelled of pine sap, wood smoke, and rising bread dough when Emmie slipped inside and found Sarah in the kitchen kneading dough.

Emmie hung her cloak on the hook by the door and went to wash her hands. “I must tell you about the laundress I met.” She launched into a description of Maggie.

Sarah gave the dough a pat and set it aside. “I think
it's lovely for you to befriend her, and we can certainly have her to tea. But you should know that the other women will disapprove. Army life is so regulated, and fraternizing with the enlisted men is frowned on here.”

Emmie put on her apron and took a pan of dough to punch down. “But she's not an enlisted man. She's just a lonely young woman with no friends. I don't see how being a friend to her could hurt.”

“I know it's hard to understand. But there's a very rigid code of behavior in the army, and the laundresses are considered beyond polite society by most gentlewomen.”

Emmie stared at her in bewilderment. “The one thing I've always noticed about army people is how friendly they are and how easily they welcome new people to the post. Why would they feel that way about someone who earns her living by her own hard work?”

“It really goes back to when laundresses were kept women who followed after the troops to see to the needs of their men. In the past, many were—well I don't like to say it—but they were scarlet women. Nowadays, many are wives of enlisted men too. Fraternizing with an enlisted man's wife is just the same as being friends with him.”

“What does that say about someone like me?”

“I'm sorry if I upset you, Emmie. I just wanted you to know what the situation is like here. I would love to meet young Maggie.”

“You're skirting my question. What if Jessica overheard us talking? If people knew about Monroe, my reputation would be much worse than Maggie's. Maybe I should leave. If your other friends would frown on associating with Maggie, they would be disgusted with me too. The truth will come out sooner or later. It always does.”

Sarah rubbed her floury hands on her apron, then touched Emmie's arm. “Anyone who knows you at all knows you're trusting and innocent. You were deceived by a scoundrel. No one would blame you. You put any thought of leaving us right out of your head. Besides, it's much too dangerous right now to even think about leaving the fort.”

Emmie looked out the window at the blue hills around the fort. The shame she'd pushed to the back of her mind swelled up again. No amount of love and acceptance would erase it. Maybe she should just confess it to the world instead of trying to pretend to be something she wasn't. She was sure Jessica wouldn't
be as charitable about her innocence as Amelia and Sarah had been.

As November began, winter settled its icy claws more firmly into the little fort community. Piercing winds, mountains of snowdrifts, and bitter cold kept the ladies constantly looking for ways to keep warm. The wood details, escorted by guards, went out every day but could barely keep up with the demand, even though wood had been stockpiled for several months. The ladies ventured out only when absolutely necessary. Even a brisk walk from quarters to quarters left them numb with cold.

Emmie couldn't remember a time when she didn't ache with cold. The wind howled around the tiny fort like a pack of ravenous wild dogs, poking icy fangs through her skirts that chilled her to the bone.

The sun had barely come up when she bundled her cloak around her as tightly as she could before picking up her basket and heading for the sutler's store. Sarah had been craving fruit, any fruit, so Emmie thought she would see what was available. The price would be
dear, but Rand had told her to get whatever she could find. He worried a lot about his wife these days. Sarah seemed pale and listless, but Emmie thought it was the confinement of the tiny fort and the especially cold weather they'd been enduring that caused her friend's wan appearance.

There had been constant skirmishes with the Indians, and the little graveyard beside the fort received a newly fallen soldier almost every day. The ever-present fear hung like black crepe over the encampment.

She staggered to keep her balance in the wind as she hurried as fast as she could toward the sutler's store. As she passed the DuBois residence, she saw Jessica. Though Emmie would have hurried by without a greeting, Jessica motioned to her, bidding her to come to the door. What now? She stopped for a moment before obeying her imperious summons. She had managed to avoid any contact with Jessica since the dance.

The cold air followed her into the foyer as Jessica shut the door behind them. Emmie glanced around as she followed Jessica into the parlor. The fireplace blazed with warmth and cast a golden glow over the gleaming mahogany furniture. The parlor looked
lovely and welcoming, but the look on Jessica's face was just the opposite.