A Proper Marriage (4 page)

“I’m going to need a crutch,” Luke said.

“One of the wagon shafts snapped in two. It’s just up the ravine a ways, next to your tool box.”

“That might work. Can you drag it down here?”

“I think so.”

He nodded. “You didn’t happen to see my ax lying around anywhere?”

“No. I found your hatchet, but I couldn’t carry everything at once.”

“Good enough.”

She plodded up the hill, the damp cold seeping into her thin leather boots, numbing her toes. The snow was melting quickly, turning the ground beneath her boots slick and spongy. Surveying the wreckage strewn about the ravine, she found the hatchet again. She dragged the broken wagon trace down the hill to where he waited. While Luke worked on fashioning a crutch, Olivia drank more tea and piled their salvaged belongings beneath the overturned wagon, ignoring the nagging emptiness in her stomach.

When his crutch was finished, he made a sling from a blanket and threaded it onto a sapling limb to make a hobo’s pack. Into the sling he put their tea and kettle, his tin of matches, and his ammunition.

They set off. At the base of the mountain far below, the road became visible again, a thin line of brown winding through the green valley. A wisp of smoke from a partially obscured chimney drifted into the sky.

“Is that Laurel Grove?” Though she wanted to get off the mountain as soon as possible, Olivia slowed and matched her steps to his. With the sun warming their faces, they inched down the mountain, stopping often to rest.

“No. Hickory Ridge, most likely. We’ll stop there for the night, like we planned, and head to Laurel Grove tomorrow.” He winced as his foot hit a tree root. “I guess there’s no real hurry now. We’ve lost everything.”

“I suppose we can rent a dray, or buy one, to retrieve what little is left.”

“Depends on how much they’re asking.” His eyes met hers. “I won’t lie to you. I spent nearly everything I had on the wagon and tools and such. We’ll need every penny of what’s left to make the first payment on our land. And before you say—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“You have a right to, I reckon. I should have listened to Silas—and to you—and waited for the storm to pass. It would have saved us a whole pack of trouble.”

“Yes, it would have. But what’s done is done.”

“I’m sorry. This isn’t turning out like I planned.”

An image of George bloomed in her mind and she forced it away. “No, Luke, it isn’t.”

He swayed on his feet. “I feel—”

He slumped to the ground. She bent over him. “What’s the matter?”

Pulling away the tattered fabric of his trousers, she saw that blood had darkened his woolen sock and dripped down the side of his scarred leather boot. She unlaced his boot and drew it gingerly over his swollen ankle. She removed her cloak and sweater and fashioned the sweater into a thick bandage. He moaned when she wound the cloth around his shattered bone, but he didn’t open his eyes. She folded her cloak into a pillow for his head, bathed his face with snowmelt, and considered her options. Should she leave him here and go on alone to get help, or stay until he was rested enough to continue to the valley road?

As if reading her thoughts, Luke opened his eyes and squinted up at her. “We have to go on, Olivia.”

“I don’t see how you can possibly stand on that broken leg. Your ankle is swollen so badly I could barely get your boot off.”

“
What?
” He sat up. “You
never
take off a boot when your foot is swollen! The foot swells even more and it makes it impossible to put the boot back on.” He winced and fell backward onto the snow. “Lord. How could you be so stupid? Don’t you know
anything
?”

She wanted to cry. “I was trying to help you, but if you’re going to be mean about it, I won’t make that mistake again.”

Luke sat up again and reached for his boot, but it would not go on over his swollen ankle. After several minutes of trying, he gave up and lay back on his makeshift pillow, his breathing ragged, a sheen of sweat covering his face. “You’ve got to get to Hickory Ridge and find us some help.”

“Don’t be foolish. I can’t leave you here alone, with no way to defend yourself.”

“I’ve got my rifle.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care. I think we should camp here tonight and continue on in the morning after you’ve had more time to rest.”

“I’ll be worse by morning. Fever is setting in. I need a doctor to set this leg. The sooner the better.”

“But—”

“Please. If you go now, you can make it before dark. Send somebody to get me.”

“Oh, Luke. If only I’d known not to remove your boot. I’ve made an even bigger mess of things.”

He managed a weak grin. “I’m sorry I called you stupid. I guess wilderness survival wasn’t part of the curriculum at Miss Pritchard’s School for Young Ladies.”

“We’re in an awful fix. I don’t see how you can joke about it.”

“I’ve been in worse fixes than this,” he said on a sharp intake of breath. “Many times.”

“I don’t believe you.” Touched at his attempt to reassure her, she knelt beside him in the snow and brushed his hair from his eyes. “What could possibly be worse than this?”

“Get going, will you? It won’t do to have you wearing widow’s weeds before the ink is dry on our marriage papers.” He lifted his head and handed back her soggy woolen cloak. “You’ll need this tonight.”

“But—”

“Go on, now. I’m counting on you.”

Unexpected tears stung her eyes. “I’ll send help as soon as I can.”

She headed down the trail, skirting overhanging branches and thick, ropy tree roots snaking across the path. The sun rose high into the cloudless sky, warming her skin, melting the last of the snow lying in the low places. The March wind chafed her cheeks and tugged at the hem of her dress.

Her forehead throbbed. Her feet swelled inside her thin leather shoes as the morning dragged on. Her stomach heaved and groaned. How long had it been since she’d eaten?

At last the path widened into a clearing, and up ahead she saw the road. Relief rushed through her. Quickening her steps, she passed beneath clusters of gnarled trees and peered around each bend in the road, looking for a house, a farmer with his wagon, anything at all. But the road spooled out endlessly before her—warm, dusty, and still.

Once, thinking that she heard voices, she hurried toward the sound to find nothing but a flock of noisy blackbirds feeding in a greening field. She stopped, arching her aching back, waiting to catch her breath. She felt the familiar prickling sensation in her stomach and sat down, blinking away the black spots flashing before her eyes. The last thing she heard before she fainted was the song of a cardinal in the trees beside the road.

Chapter Five

C
ool hands soothed her brow. Half-formed images bloomed and faded behind her closed eyes. She felt as if her stomach had been attached somehow to her backbone. Her arms and legs felt leaden, but oh, what bliss this bed was. A warm, spicy scent drifted in the air. Sassafras? Sandalwood?
Luke!
Olivia blinked awake.

She was lying in a narrow bed in a room with unadorned plaster walls and the simplest of furniture—a nightstand that held a white stoneware water basin and pitcher, a chest of drawers, a pier glass in the corner. Dust motes swirled in the late afternoon sunlight falling onto the wood floor. In the hallway, voices rose and fell. A woman in a dark green dress and a matching shawl entered the room carrying a tray on which sat a cup and saucer, a small pitcher of milk, and a teapot that sent fragrant steam wafting into the small space.

She smiled at Olivia. “Ah. Awake at last.”

Memories came rushing back. The icy ridge road. The wrecked wagon. And Luke waiting for rescue. Olivia sat up and threw back the covers. “Where am I? Is this Hickory Ridge?”

The woman set down the tray and poured tea. “This is Sweetbriar Creek. Hickory Ridge is—”

“I must go there. Our wagon, that is . . . my husband . . . oh, where are my shoes?”

“There, now. Slow down, my dear, and tell me. What’s the trouble?”

The story came out in fits and starts, beginning with their departure from North Carolina, their overnight stay with the Dumbartons, and ending with her attempt to summon help.

A tall, bushy-bearded man in denim pants and a blue work shirt, sleeves rolled back to his elbows, strode into the room, bringing with him the scents of hay and horses. “Delia, what’s this I hear about a lost traveler?”

“This young woman fainted on the road. Ben Thornburg found her on his way back from town and brought her here. She says her husband was hurt.”

“Luke needs to get off the mountain,” Olivia said. “He needs a doctor.”

The man’s eyes widened with concern. “We will find him. Now tell me what has brought thee so far from home.”

Thee
. So these were Quakers too. Olivia felt the tension leaving her shoulders. If this couple was anything like the Dumbartons, she and Luke would be safe in their care.

The woman quickly explained to her husband, then said to Olivia, “I am Delia Mills. This is my husband, Samuel.”

Mr. Mills moved about the room, gathering warm clothes and bandages from the wooden chest in the corner. Olivia described the location of the accident as clearly as she could.

“It must be near Coulter’s Gap,” Samuel decided. “I know that road.”

“Yes, that’s it.” Now Olivia remembered Luke’s mentioning the gap. “He thought we could cross the ridge road there and stop at Hickory Ridge before going on to Laurel Grove. But the snowstorm came. You know the rest.”

“I’ll take Noah Pierce and Ben Thornburg with me,” Samuel said to his wife. “In the meantime, send Charlotte for the doctor.”

Olivia could do nothing except admire their quiet competence, their unquestioning acceptance of a complete stranger. Samuel clasped Delia’s hands. “Pray for us, wife, and for the lost one.”

“We will.”

When he had gone, Delia showed Olivia to a chair in the sparsely furnished parlor and disappeared into a kitchen connected to the main house by a short breezeway. Olivia watched chickens scratching in the small yard, their rust-colored feathers gleaming in the soft light. In the orchard, the bright new leaves of the peach trees stirred in the wind. A farmer with his mule team plowed a distant field. Despite her concern for Luke, she thought of home. By now her father would be home from his law office in Blue Gap. Ruth, home from school, would change into a clean dress for dinner and try not to say or do anything to provoke his anger.

An image of Ruth’s sweet, heart-shaped face rose in her mind. Olivia’s eyes misted. Undoubtedly her sister’s life would now become more difficult. Their housekeeper and cook, Mrs. Fondren, had looked after them and the house ever since their mother’s departure. She’d been sympathetic to the girls but too dependent upon her position to challenge their father. Olivia twisted her handkerchief into a sodden little ball. So many lives had been irrevocably altered because of her one foolish, selfish choice.

Delia bustled into the room with a tray. “Thee must eat.”

After the woman’s quiet blessing, Olivia devoured a bowl of soup, rich with carrots and beef, a plate of hot biscuits swimming in butter, a slice of pie, and a wedge of cheese. “Thank you, Mrs. Mills. It was delicious.”

“It was my honor to offer it, Mrs. Mackenzie.” She set the tray on a table beside the door.

“Mother?” A young woman rushed in, a dark-haired scarecrow of a man at her heels. “Here is Dr. Chadwick. Has Father returned yet?”

“Not yet, Charlotte.” Delia rose and took the doctor’s bag and cane. “Will thee have some tea, Daniel?”

“I’d love some, yes. If it isn’t too much bother.”

Delia returned to the kitchen. The doctor smiled down at Olivia. “You must be the wife of the wounded. How do you do?”

“I’m well, all things considered. Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome. Suppose you tell me about his injuries.”

She described Luke’s fractured leg and his fever and admitted to removing his boot. “I know better now.”

The doctor nodded. “Anything else?”

“He has some cuts and bruises.”

“And so do you.” He indicated the gash at her temple. “That needs tending.”

“I’m all right. Mostly I’m tired and terribly hungry, but Mrs. Mills has kindly remedied both.”

“Nevertheless, I can’t let it go untreated.” He handed her a tin of salve from his bag. “Clean that wound and apply this twice a day.”

Delia returned and poured tea all around. Charlotte, whom Olivia guessed to be near Ruth’s age, eyed her curiously. “I’ve never been to North Carolina. What’s it like?”

“Parts of it are like here. Full of mountains and forests.” Olivia set down her cup. “The coast is my favorite part of the state. I dreamed of living by the ocean one day.”

“But then true love brought thee here, to Tennessee.”

“Something like that.”

“How romantic,” Charlotte said. “How did thee meet him, if I may ask?”

“Charlotte—” her mother began.

“It’s all in the interest of science, Mother. I am conducting an inquiry.”

“I’ve known Luke most of my life,” Olivia said. “The first time I saw him I was eight and he was ten and we were catching frogs in Boggy Creek. After I went away to school we lost touch, but I always considered him a friend.”

“The best marriages begin in friendship,” the doctor said.

“That’s what Ben says.” Charlotte smiled. “I have known Ben since I was born. His family lives on the farm by the creek. Everyone says we’ll marry someday, but I don’t know. How can a girl be sure of a man when she knows no other? Mrs. Mackenzie, how did thee know Mr. Mackenzie was the right one for thee?”

Olivia shook her head and fought the hard knot pulsing in her throat.

“That’s quite enough questioning, Charlotte,” her mother said. “Kindly make the doctor comfortable in the parlor. Father and the others should return soon with the patient.”

When the doctor and Charlotte left the room, Delia drew her chair next to Olivia’s. “’Tis natural to worry at a time like this, but we must trust in God’s mercy and pray that Mr. Mackenzie will be found and healed of his injuries.”