Mud Creek (21 page)

There wasn’t a single indication of positive endeavor.

How could Albert and Walt have toiled for most of four years and have so little to show for their efforts?

Since the day of her arrival, she’d thought they were in a fine mess, but if Albert couldn’t persevere, what were their options?

If they had to sell out and move, what direction would they travel? Back to New York? To what? There was nothing for them in Maywood. They’d cut their ties. Would they choose a different location in the west? Where would that be? Deeper into the wilderness? Somewhere even more barren and isolated?

The notion of having to pick up stakes, of having to start over on an empty plot of land was more than she could bear. She felt sick with dread.

They were at the gate, and they were pensive, silent, the biting wind ruffling their hair and clothes.

“Take me away from here,” she suddenly blurted out, surprising herself. “Would you?”

He froze. “What did you say?”

“I can’t let you ride off without me. Take me with you.”

“To my place?”

“There or anywhere; I don’t care. If I remain here another minute, I’ll suffocate.”

For an eternity, he didn’t speak, but simply frowned down at her. His thoughts veiled and inscrutable, he gazed off across the prairie, to the house where Violet, Carl, and Robert were waiting for her to serve dinner. To the top of the hill, where the crosses on the babies’ graves poked out of the grass, where Albert still stood like a forlorn statue.

“If I agree,” he quietly asked, “would you really come with me?”

“Yes!” she fervidly replied.

“I’d jump on my horse and pull you up behind me? We’d gallop off together without a word to anyone?”

“Yes,” she said again, but with less fervor.

“You’d have to leave the boys with Albert. You’d have to leave your sister.” He paused, reality sinking in. “Could you do it, Helen? Could you go?”

“Yes, I could.”

“Because from where I’m standing, I don’t believe you have it in you to act that way.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“I’m not saying you are.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“You’re loyal and reliable. You’re not a person who would ever shirk an obligation.”

She was embarrassed by his high opinion. Her cheeks flushed. “No, I’m not a shirker.”

“I’m not concerned about your sister. She stirs her own trouble, but you’d fret forever over how she was faring.”

“You know me well,” she mumbled.

“And what about the boys? Albert could never care for them properly.”

“No, he couldn’t.”

“You’d be heartsick with worry. Walt asked you to mother them, and as to Florence—when you consider where she is and that she’s locked away from her children—she has to be anxious over whether they’re safe and tended.”

“I suppose you have a point,” she grudgingly admitted.

“Life’s easier at my place. You wouldn’t have to struggle, so you’d start to feel guilty for abandoning your family. You’d hate yourself. You’d hate me.”

“I could never hate you.”

She peered into his kind blue eyes, furious over the picture he’d painted. She didn’t like it to be so accurate.

She was disgusted with herself, with her weakness, with her inability to reach for what she truly craved. Violet wouldn’t have hesitated. Violet would have leapt on his horse and said,
let’s go!

Why couldn’t she be more like her sister? Why couldn’t she be selfish and spoiled and unfaithful?

Wives had been known to desert their husbands. It happened. Rarely. But it happened. If she left Albert, she wouldn’t be the first female in history who’d had enough. Yet she couldn’t imagine herself in the unflattering role.

Home wrecker. Cuckold. Doxy. What did she owe to Albert? To his younger brothers? To Violet? To poor Florence? To Walt? Were her debts paid?

“I could leave,” she insisted, but her prior bravado had fled.

Almost daring her, he nodded to his horse. “Prove it. I’ll climb up and give you my hand. You grab hold, and you never have to come back here again. I won’t
let
you come back. Are you positive that’s what you want?”

The question dangled between them, unanswered, as he swung himself onto the saddle. He extended his hand, and it hovered there, Helen staring at it, James staring at her.

It was a promise, a threat. It would fix everything, alter everything.

Behind her, someone was calling her name. She glanced over and saw that it was Carl.

“Helen, when’s dinner?” he yelled. “Robert and I were wondering.”

“What’s it to be, Helen?” James pressed. ”The boys spent the morning, digging their father’s grave. I expect they’re starving.”

“Don’t make me choose,” she moaned. “Lift me up and take me away.”

“I can’t. It has to be your decision.”

“Decide for me!” she wailed. “Please!”

But the chance had passed her by.

A bit earlier, she’d sworn she wasn’t a coward, but gad, she was! She was!

He straightened, retracted his hand and laid it on his thigh.

“You can change you mind someday,” he told her.

“How would I?”

“Maybe in the future, you’ll be more prepared than you are now. I’ll always be glad to welcome you. Simply show up at my door and tell me you’re ready. You just have to weigh the consequences more than you have. You have to be
sure
.”

“I thought I was sure.”

He chuckled. “Go put dinner on the table. Your family is waiting for you.”

He yanked his horse around and cantered away.

She stayed out on the road, watching until he disappeared over the hill. Then she turned and staggered to the house.

*    *    *    *

“I’m in charge,” Albert said. “We’ll run the ranch according to my instructions, and I won’t brook any argument.”

Albert glared at Helen and Violet. He’d ordered everyone to assemble in the front room. The two women were seated on the sofa, Carl and Robert on the floor at their feet. Albert was serious and somber, like a general with his troops before battle.

“Yes, sir!” Violet snickered and saluted him as if she was a lowly private, as if it was all a big joke. And to her, it probably was.

Helen nudged her sister. “Be quiet, Violet.”

“No. He’s annoying, and he’s not my father. I don’t have to listen to him.”

She started to rise, as if to sashay out in a huff, and he shouted, “Sit down!”

She hesitated, studied his eyes, then dropped down without a word of sass. She glowered up at him, looking mutinous, like the spoiled, contrary girl she’d always been.

At his display of temper, his brothers shifted uncomfortably, as did Helen, but none of them commented.

They couldn’t comprehend the dangers they faced or how frightened he was. They’d barely held on when his father was alive, when his mother was present and lucid enough to pitch in. There were only five of them left, two of them children, and one a lazy, unreliable female.

Survival was paramount, but how were they to endure until the weather cleared in May? The question gnawed at him until his nerves were frayed to the breaking point.

“This will be a very hard winter,” he explained.

“They’ve all been hard,” Robert said.

“It will be worse without Ma and Pa to help.”

“I don’t know how it could be
worse,”
Violet muttered under her breath, but he ignored her.

“Here is what I’ve planned.” He scowled at Robert and Carl. “You boys will have to quit school. As of today, you’re through.”

Helen gasped. “No, Albert. I can’t agree to that.”

“There’s no other way, Helen,” he snarled.

“But to quit school! It seems so drastic.”

“Well, drastic times call for drastic measures.”

Robert peered up at Helen. “I don’t mind, Helen. I can already read better than the teacher, and Albert needs me.”

“How about Carl then?” she asked Albert. “If Robert stays home, could Carl still attend?”

“I don’t want him riding so far by himself,” Albert replied.

Carl grinned. “So…I’m finished?”

“Yes,” Albert said.

Carl clenched his fist and raised it in triumph. “I’m an educated man!”

Helen poked him with the toe of her shoe. “No, you’re not. I’ll talk to your teacher and look at her lessons for the rest of the year. You’ll work with me in the evenings at the kitchen table.”

“Aw, Helen,” Carl grumbled. “That’s not fair.”

Helen glanced at Albert. “Would that be all right with you?”

Albert preened, delighted that she’d sought his opinion. They were making progress.

“If it doesn’t conflict with your chores or his,” Albert told her.

“It won’t,” Helen insisted as Carl said, “I’m sure it will.”

Helen poked Carl again. “Don’t be smart.”

“Sorry,” he sheepishly mumbled.

“As to the cottage,” Albert said, “Violet, you’ve been hanging around out there, and I realize you were hoping to have a separate spot for yourself, but I can’t permit you. I’m boarding it up.”

Violet frowned. “What? Why?”

“It’s almost November,” Albert advised. “We don’t have enough firewood to heat the stove in here, let alone a second one out at the cottage.”

“I don’t use very much,” she griped.

“Any amount is too much.” He glared at her. “You’ll live in the house with us, and I won’t listen to any complaint.”

She might have argued, but Helen spoke up with a conciliatory, “We’ll figure it out.”

“Now then,” Albert continued, “as to our food supply, we have to cut back.”

“Cut…back?” Helen stiffened in her seat.

“Yes. I was just down in the root cellar, and we don’t have anywhere near what we had put by last year.”

“He thinks this is the army,” Violet sniped, “and he can place us on half-rations.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Albert agreed. “We have to eat less, or we’ll never make it until spring.”

“How much is
less
?” Helen inquired.

“When you begin to plan a meal, estimate how much you usually prepare, then cook half as much.”

“Half…” Helen repeated, stunned.

“Yes. You’ll cook less, and we’ll eat less.”

They stared up at him, appearing shocked and aggrieved—and a tad alarmed.

He gestured to his brothers. “You’ll take over my chores, and I’ll take over Pa’s.”

“Yes, Albert,” they responded in unison.

“And Helen, you’ll write out a list of tasks for Violet. There will be no more wandering, no more refusal to chip in.” He studied Violet, his disdain obvious. “Do you understand, Violet? You can’t malinger, or you’ll answer to me.”

“
Answer
to you?” Violet said. “What’s does that mean?”

“Refuse to help, Helen,” he warned, “and you’ll find out.”

He’d decided that—if Violet caused any trouble—he would whip her bloody, and he didn’t care how Helen felt about it.

The two sisters hadn’t lived through a Dakota winter, so they couldn’t grasp what it was truly like. There would be months of grueling wind, blinding snow, and bitter temperatures. Cattle would freeze, food would run out, resentments would flare.

Violet simply couldn’t behave as she had in the past. Helen had no ability to control Violet, so Albert would.

“Is everyone clear on what I expect?” He received nods all around. “Any questions?”

Violet stood. “Will you spank me if I disobey?”

“I might,” he threatened.

Helen rolled her eyes. “No one is spanking anyone. Violet, go outside and do something constructive.”

“It’s cold outside.”

“Go anyway,” Helen snapped.

Violet walked toward Albert, approaching until they were toe to toe. Derisively, she scrutinized his face, his angry posture, and she smirked and strolled away. Momentarily, she exited out the kitchen door.

“You boys go, too,” he said. “The chores won’t get finished with you sitting in here.”

They grumbled, but did as he’d commanded.

Once they’d departed, it was just Albert and Helen.

“You’re not sleeping with your sister any longer,” he said.

“Oh.”

“I’ve let you shirk your duty to me—“

“I haven’t
shirked
any duty,” she huffed. “You avoided me. It was your own choice.”

He ignored the comment. “Violet will sleep on the floor by the stove. You and I will have Pa’s bedroom to ourselves.”

“Fine.”

“You’d better not complain about it.”

“Who’s complaining?” she retorted, but she couldn’t hide her disgusted expression.

Ever since the barn raising, he’d left her alone. But on the day of Walt’s funeral, she’d been out on the road, having a cozy chat with James Blaylock.

At the earliest opportunity, Albert would ride to Blaylock’s place, would notify him that he wasn’t welcome on Albert’s land. Albert could put up with a great deal, but he didn’t have to tolerate his neighbor coveting his wife. That was the crux of what was occurring right under his nose, and he was still reeling with outrage.

If the despicable cad came sniffing around in the future, Albert would chase him off with a shotgun. Helen would never see Blaylock again. Albert wouldn’t allow it, and he’d inform Blaylock in no uncertain terms.

Helen had gazed at Blaylock with a visible affection, the likes of which she’d never displayed for Albert. How dare she prefer Blaylock to her lawful husband!

For a brief instant, when Blaylock had mounted his horse, Albert had actually wondered if Helen might run off with him.

The trollop! The harlot!

He wanted to slap her for her disloyalty, wanted to hit her with his fists until she was a groveling ball on the rug. But he wouldn’t.

There were other ways to make her suffer, and he intended to use them all. She’d be sorry for loving Blaylock, a man who was everything Albert was not.

“We’ll start tonight,” he decreed. “Be ready for me to join you.”

He whirled away and went outside.

“I’m hungry.”

“So am I.”

“Let’s make ourselves some sandwiches. Albert will never know.”

Violet leapt up from the kitchen table and went to the breadbox, slamming it shut when she saw it was empty. She whirled on Helen.