Destiny's Bride (9 page)

Walt walked up behind Cecile and put his arms around her. “Cece, I hate leaving you here alone, but the sooner I go, the sooner I can get back.”

She stiffened at his mention of alone. “I know you have to go and that I have to stay here to take care of things, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m miles from nowhere.” She hadn’t meant to add to his guilt for leaving, but her words spilled out before she thought.

He grasped her shoulders, turned her to face him, and stroked her cheek. “You’ll do fine. I’m leaving my rifle, and the door has a sturdy locking bar. I promise I’ll hurry.” He bent and gently kissed her, then went outside, leaving her slump-shouldered and craving more assurance. A sturdy locking bar?  A stiff wind could blow the door off the house.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and followed him with the basket of food.

Standing in the doorway, she embraced herself against the chill.   Hadn’t it just been yesterday when she prayed for a change in the weather? Walt hitched the horses to the wagon, tossed his bedroll in the back, then took the container of food she held out. “Thanks for packing a basket for me. I’ll miss your good cooking.” He tucked the wicker container under the seat.

“You’re welcome,” she said, well aware he wasn’t being truthful. Her cooking skills were dismal at best. At least he wouldn’t starve between home and Castroville.

Once they had some fresh vegetables, however, she planned to try her hand at making some stews and soups. So far the menu had been limited to very basic and easily prepared foods, and although Walt never complained, she knew he would appreciate a little more variety.

If she could learn to crochet, she could conquer anything. All one had to do was try. She pushed aside the negative little voice in her head that doomed her to failure, and relied on memories of her wedding night; she hadn’t a clue what to do. She chuckled aloud, thinking how fast she learned.

“What’s so funny?” he inquired. “A minute ago you were near tears and now you’re giggling.”

“Oh, nothing, I was just imagining the meals I‘m going to make for you when you return.”

“And… that’s funny?” His dark brow rose.

“I figured if I could become a brothel madam in the bedroom, anything is possible.”

They shared a laugh, but the mood quickly turned somber. They embraced. She soaked in his warmth and breathed in the smell of him to sustain her until he returned. He buried his nose in her hair and heaved a sigh. Reluctant to part, they stood in silence and watched the sun creep over the distant mountains. The chilly night gave way to a heavy morning mist that created an eerie sight as it hung around the corral, looking almost ghostlike.

Holding back tears, Cecile kissed him. “Please be careful and do hurry home to me.”

He held her at arm‘s length. “I will, I promise. Now, don’t forget to milk the cow every day. Try to use the oats for the horses sparingly, and stay out of the rooster’s way.”

As if he needed to remind her. She pulled a pouting face, making Walt laugh, and stepped back into his embrace.

After a long, lingering kiss, he peered down into her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll hurry home. You just keep my place in bed warm.”

While he climbed aboard the wagon, she recalled the pleasure they’d shared last night and how his easy nature always calmed her worries. There was no way to measure how much she loved him.  She squared her shoulders and feigned confidence she didn’t feel.  His last glance at her shouldn’t leave him wondering as to her capabilities.  Tears welled and she blinked them away.

Slapping reins and creaking wheels disturbed the dawn’s silence as Walt drove out of the yard. She waved one last time, then stood shivering until he had disappeared from sight.

Suddenly, the quiet returned, this time bringing a hollow feeling that forced out her tears. Gazing around through the blur, she realized how truly alone she was. Just her and the animals, at least that’s what she hoped as she ducked inside and closed the front door, sliding the locking bar across it.

The warmth inside felt good as she stood next to the fire. She choked back her sadness and resolved to be brave. A little extra work never hurt anyone, and time alone would let her reflect on her life. Well-earned blisters grated nosily together when she rubbed her palms back and forth over the flames, and she grimaced, knowing she would only earn more with her added chores. What happened to those blemish-free hands she once had?

Her thoughts turned to Walt. Where was he now? Was he thinking of her? She smiled picturing his handsome face and appreciating how wonderful he made her feel. Despite her nervousness at the moment, her life was better because he was part of it. She looked around the still dismal room, realizing she could live anywhere as long as they were together.

Although tempted to crawl back into bed and sleep until he came home, she admonished herself for acting so childish. She donned her work clothes, imagining the look on her father’s face if he saw her dressed for farming. His little girl milking the cow and gathering eggs; he’d faint dead away. She forced herself out of the coziness of the cabin into the cool morning air. “Okay, Bossie, here I come. My hands are nice and warm for you.”

Her first solo milking experience went better than expected. She carried the heavy pail into the house and poured the milk into jars, covered them with cheesecloth, and put them on the shelves. With Walt gone an entire week, she had no idea who was going to drink it all. It wasn’t even her favorite drink.

“Now, I need to feed the horses and, Lord help me, muck out the stalls.” She clucked her tongue against the back of her teeth and slogged back to the barn. After putting oat-filled feedbags on the horses, she led Bossie into the corral, filled the feeding trough with hay then returned to clean the cow’s stall. The smell of the manure and urine made Cecile gag. She hadn’t been feeling up to par for a couple of days, but chalked it up to being upset about Walt leaving. Today, for some reason, her stomach really churned. Still, she knew it was on her to get everything done, so she pushed herself a little harder.

After she finished mucking and spreading clean straw across the floor, she removed the horse’s empty feedbags and hung them back on the wall. She led the team to the outside corral, thankful that two of the animals were with Walt. At least she had fewer to clean up after.

The sun sat higher in the sky, and the rooster strutted around as if he had something to do with getting it there. Cecile put off gathering eggs until later; she didn’t want to deal with the possibility of being spurred until she absolutely had to.

After bringing in water, and fuel for the next day’s fire, she collapsed into the rocker Walt had salvaged. Exhausted, with her arms and legs splayed wildly, she thought of the first time she laid eyes on the old chair and saw it as nothing more than firewood. Now it was her place to rest, crochet, and meditate about life.

Her mouth stretched into a wide yawn at the same time her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten anything since a light breakfast with Walt, but she was too tired to get up. She thought about him again. Where was he now? Was he eating his dinner? She silently prayed for God to keep her husband safe and bring him home quickly.

***

Walt readied his campfire for dinner. He’d been gone for five days now, and Cecile never left his mind. The wagon was filled with supplies to see them through the winter, plus a special gift for her. The extra expense was an extravagance, but he bought a beautiful green dress that matched her eyes. No telling where she’d wear it, but he knew she’d love it. He heated and dished a plate full of beans, shoveling them in hungrily, then rinsed his tin plate and stowed it away. 

Tonight, as with every night when he crawled into his bedroll, he missed Cecile the most; the way she curled against him in their narrow bed, like one spoon nesting in another. He almost smelled her lavender scented toilet water. How was it possible to miss another person so much? He rolled to his side and gazed at the fire, tingling with joy that in just another day or so he’d be home. Perhaps he’d spend his first day back in bed, making up for the loving he’d been missing. Right now, the idea sounded wonderful, especially since his drawers strained to contain his hardness. He continued watching the flames until the last one crackled and died.

***

Cecile decided on a cold biscuit and a glass of milk before bed. She was too tired to fix anything more, and without Walt, cooking was a waste of energy. The loneliness lay heavy on her heart. There was no one to talk to except the animals, and she felt a little foolish telling Bossie how much she missed Walt.

Worse than being alone, the quiet wore on her nerves; she constantly listened for something out of the ordinary, then wondered what she’d  do if heard something.

Vowing to take a good hot bath tomorrow, she washed the dust from her face, hands, and arms and climbed into bed. Now, all she wanted to do was pass time sleeping and wake when Walt came home. She pulled his pillow close and inhaled, breathing in his musky smell. It reminded her of their passionate lovemaking the night before he left. She was so exhausted she managed only a brief smile before drifting off to sleep.

Cecile beheld the season’s first frost when she awakened and peered out the shutters. The coating of white on the grass reminded her that winter snow was not far behind. Her mind drifted to Walt, somewhere out on the prairie, and she worried for him. While she prepared coffee, she pictured him sitting with her in front of the fireplace, cozy and warm and safe from the ravages of winter. In contrast, the coldness of the house pervaded her thoughts because she hadn’t yet lit a fire. Luckily, she’d carried in wood the evening before so she didn’t have to venture outside.

While kneeling in front of the hearth to light the kindling, a severe wave of nausea hit her. With the trip to get the animals, all the repairs, and Walt’s leaving, she’d lost track of the last time she’d experienced the awful woman’s curse. She tried to remember when she’d last bled, but the nausea dulled her memory. Cecile sat in the rocker and waited for the queasiness to ebb.

She pondered her situation; she didn’t really know much about the facts of life. Her mother evidently never felt comfortable talking about womanhood issues. Oh, Cecile knew how women got pregnant, but hadn’t really given much thought to it happening to her. She didn’t know anything about giving birth, so what if she was pregnant? How could she have a baby all alone, here in the middle of nowhere, without a doctor? Engulfed in panic, her eyes brimmed with tears, but she blinked them away. Crying wasn’t the answer. But what was?

Panic overwhelmed the nausea and she rose, went to the hearth, and stoked the fire, all the while assuring herself what she feared wasn’t true. She shook her head in disbelief, then smiled, her emotions running wild as a stallion. What if motherhood was in her near future? Walt would most likely take her back to
Silver City until the baby was born. At least thinking of the possibility made her feel better for the moment.

Chapter Six

The pesky rooster crowed as sunlight barely lit the room.  For Cecile, he only announced another lonely day filled with tasks she hated. Still tired from yesterday’s chores, she fought the urge to roll over and go back to sleep, but resisted. Although staying within the comfort of the warm and cozy blankets was much more enticing than all the things that had become her responsibility, she threw back the covers and steeled herself against the brisk morning air.

The rough plank flooring felt icy cold as she moved her bare feet from side to side, searching for her slippers. She pulled on her worn and faded wrapper and, hunching into a shiver, shuffled across to the fireplace. Fingers of morning light touched the pitiful mismatched furniture and rough hewn walls, a grim reminder of her disappointment in her new home, nothing at all like the painted rooms and elegant furnishings in her parents’ place. Who would have guessed that marrying the man of her dreams would bring her miles from civilization to a life that left her feeling older than her actual nineteen years?

When flames crackled in the fireplace, she opened the door and stared across the prairie, at the fiery orange halo stretching across the horizon. A light breeze blew the knee-high grass back and forth in a rhythmic dance, and drops of dew reflected the rising sun. Goose bumps peppered her arms. Loneliness hung heavy in her heart.

The chickens foraged the ground for feed, and the cow and horses kicked the wall of the barn, restless for release into the roomier outside pen. Unhappy grunts from the pigsty indicated the sow was ready to eat. Cecile sighed, wondering about Walt. He should have been home by now. Maybe today was the day. She ducked back inside and changed into her work clothes.

During her husband’s absence, she’d perfected the routine of balancing the outside chores with the inside ones. Thankfully, the weather change lessened the amount of dust seeping through the crooked shutters, giving her a respite from sweeping. With everything done for the day, she sat down to practice her crocheting, noting she was getting pretty good at it. Strangely, the practice piece of knotted yarn was beginning to grow into something resembling a baby blanket.

Images of a young boy in little coveralls, working alongside his father, filled her head. The lad looked like Walt. The picture switched to a miniature of herself, the Cecile that wore pretty dresses and looked feminine as a child.