Far Away Home (24 page)

Chapter 26

It did not take
long for the practical aspects of widowhood to make themselves known. The
mortgage payment on the smithy and the cabin, so easily met by Johnny’s labors,
was difficult to scrape together for June. As July spiraled to an end, Aislynn
knew they were in trouble. She had four people depending on her for food,
shelter and employment, and she feared losing the very things providing these
essentials.

She called them
all together to explain the problem. If she were to meet the mortgage, no wages
could be paid, and she would understand if anyone wanted to find work
elsewhere. Loyalty brought suggestions to increase their collective incomes. No
Nose would try to collect the old debts Johnny did not have the heart to press
on customers. Mother Maher would attempt to take in washing and ironing, but
the influx of Chinese men, laid off by the railroad, drove the prices of these
services so low, it was barely worth her effort. Kathleen and Carrie thought
they could serve two more tables if they could be added to the restaurant.
Aislynn dragged in two old tables knowing the ones they had were not always
full.

Tim cornered
Aislynn and offered to contribute what she lacked of the July payment. Aislynn
had long fed and housed him accepting minimal monthly payments. She knew he
sent stipends home to his father and Emma while he tried to save for a ticket
home and college. Aislynn had never wanted to hinder his effort. “No, we’ll pay
it.”

“It’s just not
right. It’s time you accepted my fair share.” He threatened, “I’ll move in with
Murphy if you don’t.”

Aislynn told
herself she wanted him to leave, but it broke her heart when she thought he
might actually go. He held out his arms and called her into his hug. She rested
her head on the shoulder that was always there for her. His strength and
constancy held her together; he kept her from falling to pieces in her grief.
She thought his presence sheltered her from the interested and curious miners
starved for female company. “We’ll work this out,” he said. “Everything will
come in its own time.”

“Fine,” she
acquiesced, “but it’s a loan.”

Worry, sorrow
and fatigue were wearing on Aislynn. Every morning she donned a white, starched
smock over her ever-tightening mourning dress and arrived at the restaurant
with a forced smile. Days were spent in suspended reality. When grief washed
over her, she pretended Johnny was at the smithy, working as always. Failing
that, she would go to a place in the deep creases of her mind that was shared
with no one. Here, she held the suspicion his death had been a terrible
mistake. She spun fantasies she wanted to believe were plausible explanations
for his disappearance and would justify his amazing reappearance.

At night, the
fingers of darkness crept over the window ledge and strangled her with sadness.
For protection, she would wrap herself in one of Johnny’s shirts, but the pain
clawed at her heart. She would lie in bed, cry herself awake and wonder why she
was being punished. Aislynn questioned why so many crude, useless people lived,
and Johnny had to die. Sometimes, she would lie very still, waiting for a sign.
She reasoned a love as strong as Johnny’s could transcend the barrier between
life and death. Yet, as she moved further into a life without him, she received
no message.

Sorrow subdued
Aislynn. She let Carrie and Kathleen serve the customers, while she soldiered
at the stoves and the sink. Carrie had caught Buck’s attention and Kathleen, a
girl who could not hear, attracted the interest of Jeb, a man who did not like
to talk. Each night Moran and his men left the girls large gratuities,
sometimes worth more than the meal. Aislynn saw it as charity. Although she
found it excessive, it was the girls’ earnings, and she was in no position to
condemn acceptance.

When Aislynn
couldn’t make the August payment, the girls produced nearly one hundred dollars
between them. Aislynn accepted the money with gratitude and embarrassment.

“You’re spoiling
those girls,” she reprimanded Moran. She was sitting at a corner table studying
her ledgers as he approached.

Moran sat across
from her, leaned back in his chair and leveled his eyes at her. “I hear they’re
not earning anything else.”

Distress swam
through her, “Are people talking about me?”

“I believe
people always talk; it’s human nature.”

“They shouldn’t
speak about me or my money.”

“It’s the lack
of it causing discussion.”

Her
sensibilities offended, Aislynn snapped, “Money should not be discussed.”

“You’ve… spoken
to me about money,” he smirked.

The memory made
Aislynn’s eyes widen, “A minor indiscretion.”

“Let me help
you,” he offered.

“How could you
suggest such a thing? I do not need anyone’s charity.” She slammed the book
closed.

“It’s not
charity.”

“I have no more
collateral.”

He bent over the
table and whispered, “I’m not asking for anything in return.” There was a
kindness surfacing in his voice that turned her red. His pity humiliated her.

Aislynn drummed
up her dignity. “Thank you,” she replied stiffly. “I only have a few more
payments, then things will be just fine.”

Moran fell back
in his chair, “Well, at least take some meat from me. I’ve got a man coming in
from Kentucky. He’s a veterinarian who’s thinking about raising horses and
cattle. I’m having a steer slaughtered; you can have what’s left.”

“Why aren’t you
using it?”

“I’ll use some
but the steer is big, and I can’t just kill the part we want to eat.”

“I’ll pay you
for it.”

Moran rolled his
eyes. “Just take it off my hands. Serve it to your customers and save me the
trouble of doing something with it.”

Aislynn
demurred, “Well, if it will help.”

The September
sun was still bright, although its strength was diminishing. Aislynn pulled on
her Golden Spike bonnet as she settled in the wagon seat next to No Nose. The
mules were happy to be out on a jaunt. They seemed proud trotting down Main
Street toward Moran’s ranch.

No Nose was
singing some silly song, glad to have Aislynn alone and trying to bring back
her smile. At the mouth of the canyon, the sides of the road were rocky and the
understory dense, but from here, the way lay flatter and wider, making the trip
easier. Aislynn was just about to join No Nose in a chorus, when two men sprang
from the brush into the middle of the narrow lane. The mules balked and came to
a stop. The intruders held the harnesses as they crept up to the wagon. The man
on No Nose’s side gripped a gun while the man facing Aislynn held a hunting
knife, its wide blade flashing in the sun. Aislynn and No Nose stiffened,
straight and silent in the seat.

“Well, what have
we here, Beauty and the Beast?” the gunman asked stepping up on a spoke of the
wagon wheel.

The knife
wielder looked up at Aislynn. Grabbing the side of the wagon, he hoisted
himself up to her level, saying, “Ain’t you sweet?”

Aislynn’s drew
her hand out of her pocket. The first bullet exploded into the gunman’s chest.
Blood spurted out of his shirt, as he flew backwards. Before her heart took
another beat, she turned and shot the knife-holder in the forehead. He gave her
a look of surprise before he fell forward. As he slipped down the side of the
wagon, his knife sliced Aislynn’s left arm and came to rest deep in her thigh.

The mules bolted
at the sound of the shots. They tore down the road. No Nose held the reins and
struggled for control. Aislynn felt the warm stream of blood running down her
arm before the pain seized her. She grabbed No Nose’s arm with her right hand and
attempted to stay upright. She looked down at the erect knife and noticed her
blood billowing into a dark red cloud on her white smock. As she slumped
against No Nose, he slashed at the mules with the reins, speeding them toward
the ranch. Aislynn’s head slipped into his lap. She saw the arch standing in
Moran’s drive pass over her. In the distance, she could see Moran leaning
against the corral fence with two other men. They seemed blurred in the dust.
No Nose held her with one hand and called for help as the wagon bounded
forward. The dust grew thicker, and a cloud hid the sun. Darkness descended
while Moran called out her name.

Chapter 27

Aislynn’s ears
woke first. She listened as the unfamiliar sounds spoke to her. The walls
creaked, paper rustled, a lamp hissed and thunder roared. When she opened her
eyes, the room was dark, but for a small pool of orange light radiating from
behind a large chair. Her vision fell on a solid figure occupying the chair.
“Da?” she breathed. “No,” she recalled. “Da’s gone, Johnny, too.” She bolstered
her voice, “Tim?” Lightning flashed and engulfed the room in an eerie, white
light. The figure moved. Aislynn felt a searing pain in her arm and leg; she
moaned.

“Aislynn, are
you awake?” it asked.

“Are we in
hell?” she ventured.

“No, Utah,” it
softly chuckled

Aislynn
recognized Moran’s voice. “Why am I burning?”

“You were
wounded very badly.” He sat on the bed, reached an arm around her head and held
a cup to her lips. “Try to drink some of this.”

The warm drink
smelled bitter but she felt parched. She swallowed a few sips and pulled her
head away. Moran lowered her on the pillows while she tried to piece together
her whereabouts and the circumstances that brought her here. Thoughts flew at
her like snowflakes in a blizzard. She remembered the men, the shots and hoped,
if she had murdered, No Nose had returned and hidden the bodies. Panic and
nausea rose up through her body. “Oh, no,” she grabbed Moran’s arm, “I need to
see Tim.”

“What is it?”

“It’s something
terrible. I have to speak to him.”

“About the men?”

She gasped her
shock. “You know?”

“Of course. No
Nose told us.”

“Are … they
dead?” She needed to ask but feared the answer.

“Yes,” he said
flatly.

Aislynn started
to cry, “I’ll hang.”

“Aislynn! Don’t
give it one moment of thought. You don’t hang for a clear case of self-defense.
I won’t even permit an inquest. It’s over.” His voice was adamant.

Relief rushed
through her. She lay with her thoughts for a moment. Realizing she was not in
the clear, she started in a small voice, not wanting those who sit in judgment
to hear. “It’s a mortal sin to kill. I suppose I’ll go to hell now and never
see Johnny again.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she covered her
eyes.

Moran laid his
hand on her hair. “Let’s believe God isn’t as harsh as all that.”

He leaned toward
her as he slipped his arm behind her again. “Try to drink this. It’s a Chinese
remedy to fight pain and infection. You were cut up pretty bad. The vet
stitched you, but you lost a lot of blood.”

Aislynn drank
the bitter brew. She quieted for a moment, but her mind still raced. “Do you
believe in ghosts?”

He shook his
head and scoffed, “No.”

“But they might
haunt me; I did kill them.”

“I’ve never been
haunted.”

“Have you ever
killed anyone?”

“On occasion,”
Moran admitted.

“How many
occasions?”

“Enough to know
there are no such things as ghosts.”

Aislynn
contemplated his wisdom. “Well, when you go, I think I’d feel better if you
left the light burning.”

Moran laughed
softly and patted her hand, “How about I just sit here while you get some
sleep. If any haunts come, I’ll chase them away.”

The sky was
white and the color returning to life when Tim arrived. Her pale face and
red-rimmed eyes smiled at the sight of him. He sat on the edge of the bed,
holding her hand and murmuring words of comfort.

Shadows outside
the wide windows shortened as Tim coaxed her into conversations. He stood at
the broad windows looking over the wide valley into yellow hills. Tim was
speculating on the size of the Great Salt Lake when a cramp seized Aislynn. She
doubled over, squeaking in pain. Within seconds she could feel fluid flowing
between her legs. Fear and disbelief strangled her words, “It’s the baby.”

Tim rushed for
help and returned with Moran’s housekeeper, Pee Yeh. She clamored into the room
laden with towels, string and a knife. A boy carrying two pots of boiling water
followed her.

Tim’s eyes
darted between Aislynn and Pee Yeh, “Should I go?”

Aislynn reached
for his hand. He resumed his seat on the edge of the bed. Pee Yeh shooed the
boy from the room and pulled the sheets down. Aislynn curled toward her and
grabbed her arm, “Please, save my baby,” she pleaded.

Silently, Pee
Yeh stared at Aislynn and then, at Tim. She looked down at the soaked sheet and
quietly went to work. Aislynn gripped Tim’s arm until his fingers turned from
red to white. With his free hand, he stroked her face with a cool, wet rag.
“Everything is going to be fine,” he declared. Aislynn gasped, grunted and
growled. Tim whispered, “Don’t worry, Katherine, it will be fine.” A few loud
screams, and Aislynn felt the baby pass. Pee Yeh tied the cord and cut it. She
grabbed the tiny infant and swaddled it in a clean towel.

Wide-eyed and
breathless, Aislynn asked, “Boy or girl?”

“A very tiny
boy,” Tim’s voice brimmed with concern.

Aislynn held her
breath and listened to the stillness. She pulled herself up on Tim’s arm and
begged, “Please, Pee Yeh, don’t let him die.”

Tears were
rising in Pee Yeh’s eyes; she shook her head. “Please,” Aislynn wailed.

Pee Yeh spun and
swept Moran’s silver brushes off the dresser with her arm. She gently laid the
baby down and bent over him. Aislynn could hear her sucking and spitting,
breathing and blowing.

Tim fell to his
knees and held Aislynn’s hand while he frantically prayed. Aislynn’s mind
split. She prayed, saying the words, but she watched and listened, willing the
baby to live. After a few hour-long minutes, Pee Yeh stood and began wrapping
the baby in the towel. Aislynn cried, “No!”

Tim’s head
snapped up. He jumped to his feet and rushed to Pee Yeh. Grabbing the baby, he
dipped his hand in the steaming water and sprinkled it on the baby’s head. “I
baptize thee in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.”

Aislynn tried to
crawl to the end of the bed, but her useless arm and leg denied her. “Give him
to me.”

Tim stiffened
and held his terrified breath. He shook his head.

Aislynn
entreated, “Jesus Christ, Tim, please.”

Tears streamed
down his face. He whispered, afraid to tell her the truth. “He’s dead.”

Aislynn nodded
slowly, “I know.”

She took the
bundle onto her lap and unwrapped it. She slowly stroked the tiny purple body.
“Oh, how I wanted you.”

Cramps grabbed
Aislynn, and she felt like her body was going to turn inside out again. She
handed the baby to Tim, and he started to the door. Pee Yeh rushed to help
Aislynn finish the delivery. Aislynn tried to tell Tim she wanted the baby
back, but a spasm took her voice, and he disappeared with her son.

The fruitless
pain had been endured simply for its cessation. After six months of pregnancy,
she had nothing. With the delivery over, she closed her eyes and straightened
her legs on the wet bed. She lay bloody, empty and exhausted.

She watched Pee
Yeh scramble around her, pulling the sheets and replacing them with clean
linens. Pee Yeh washed Aislynn, rebandaged her bleeding wounds and dressed her
in one of Moran’s clean nightshirts. She left Aislynn staring at the desert,
dry and dusty with silvery waves of heat rolling toward the hills. Her eyes
lost their focus, and the landscaped shifted into a blur.

Tim returned
with tea Aislynn now knew was laced with laudanum. He sat on the bed, but she
did not stir, her eyes were glued to the window. “I was just remembering the
day you took me to the ocean,” she murmured, “how it shone in the sun, so
brightly I could barely look at its waves.” Aislynn inhaled deeply, “You said,
‘It’s as bright as our futures.’ But it was so overwhelming; I was afraid. When
I asked you if there were dragons in it, you said, ‘No.’ ”

Tim took a thick
breath, “I’m wrong about a lot of things.”

Aislynn did not
have a remark. She lay silently as Tim stroked her hair, “Aislynn, someday
we’ll go see the ocean again, and I bet it looks a whole lot smaller and less
scary.”

She stared out
the window for a moment and with great effort turned her face toward his,
“There’s not much left that can scare me, Tim.”