New Beginnings (New Beginnings Series) (4 page)

Chapter Three

It was several days before Sam could get out of bed and back to his work. It was very unusual for him and very difficult, but with the doctor’s insistence he remained there.

Mary stayed dedicated to Mr. Fielding and while she didn’t agree with most of the things he did, she did admire the man. He had worked his way from a poor street child to what he was now, completely on his own. He never spoke of his family and she never asked. In turn he never asked about hers. In fact, he never showed any interest in anyone other than himself.

Sam tried very hard to push Sara out of his thoughts and didn’t like this new feeling of concern for someone else. He had lived very well on his own up to this point and didn’t want to change. Deciding not to ask about her, he was sure eventually she would be completely forgotten. But, the more he tried not to think of her, the more he did. As soon as he was capable, he went to the bank to look at the business records and found the Gardiner account. He watched the saloon from the balcony, accessible only from the second floor entrance in his home. In his mind, he imagined William playing poker or holding a young saloon girl on his lap. He wondered how this had affected Sara’s life.

By the time a week had passed, Sam managed well using a cane. Eric harnessed the black gelding to a buggy and even though the hired hand was very much against his travelling alone, Sam insisted he would. Before leaving Brandon he stopped at Blye’s Mercantile, one of the general stores moved from the valley, housed in a building Sam owned. He asked a local woman, as she went into the store, to give the owner, Melvin Blye, a list and waited in the vehicle until the supplies were brought out and loaded. Everyone in the town treated Mr. Fielding with a bit of caution and a lot of respect. He gave the horse a tap with the reins and turned the buggy south, in the direction of the Gardiner farm.

By the position of the sun it was near noon when he arrived at the place where he had found refuge. The weather was starting to get much cooler and it felt like snow could be coming soon. Sam pulled the collar of his heavy coat a little closer around his neck and pushed his wide-brimmed hat tighter to his head. He stopped the horse at the hitching post and before stepping down, called out to Sara, although not expecting her to answer or come out of hiding. Moving slowly, he stepped down carefully from the seat in the buggy. Leaning heavily on the cane he slowly made his way up the two steps to the porch, went to the door and knocked. With no answer, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Everything seemed to be the same as it was before, except a half-eaten biscuit sat on a plate, a warm cup of tea beside it. No doubt Sara had made a quick exit to the root cellar, then outside as soon as she heard him arrive. Stepping back onto the porch, he called again, but there was still no response.

Sam walked very slowly, following the side of the house along a worn path to the back. Looking at the north wall he found the exit from the cellar Sara had used several times in her escape and probably had again. He looked in all directions but still could not find her. His search led to a little cemetery not far behind the house and with the help of his cane he crossed the uneven ground to it. As expected, one of the larger crosses marked her husband’s resting place. Very carefully, the words and dates had been carved into the cross at the head of the mound. Beside it was the second large cross, which held more words than the first. The carving was much smaller and Sam had to move closer to read it. He was shocked to find this was Sara’s son who had died at the age of fourteen, a little more than two years before. Quickly, he moved toward the smaller crosses and counted five. Each held the first name and age of a child, no more than three weeks and two only a day before they were laid to rest. He noticed each grave was very carefully tended, obviously with great care and love. He turned toward the gate and called her name again. He could feel someone watching him, but still he could not catch sight of her.

Carefully, he made his way back to the carriage, and slowly started to carry the first bag of supplies to the porch. Turning to go back, he was surprised to see Sara standing beside his horse. Her eyes looked into his, but her face showed no emotion, no smile he had hoped for. He had more or less forgotten she was expecting a child and for a second he wondered about that too.

When he moved to retrieve another bag of groceries she blocked his way saying, “You really didn’t need to bring these out here. I can manage.”

Sam looked at her, “I wanted to say thank you for what you have done for me.” He started to lift the bag but Sara took it from him and set it back in the carriage.

“I really don’t need your help.”

“I know you don’t, but I needed yours. Please let me give you this in return.”

She took the bag from him again, “Only this once, then your debt is paid. Besides, you shouldn’t be lifting these things, they are hard to carry and use a cane at the same time.”

“You shouldn’t be lifting either,” he replied, taking the third and last bag from the back. “Got an extra cup of tea?”

Without an answer, she walked into the house, leaving the door open as an invitation to him.

The tea kettle was filled with fresh water from the bucket and placed on the stove. Sam slowly carried the groceries to the table and Sara helped him after she prepared the teapot and placed a few biscuits on a plate. He emptied the cloth bags and while she said nothing he could see her eyes seemed to shine. The packages were all small ones, much easier to carry, but he thought they would last some time as she was the only one there. On the table were bags of sugar, flour, oatmeal, coffee, smaller packages of salt, pepper, tea and much more. She picked up a jar of milk, held it close seeming to be deep in thought, then looked at Sam to thank him. He was sure he saw the hint of a tear, but she quickly turned to the stove to remove the boiling kettle.

He couldn’t help but wonder, ‘A jar of milk, a small one at that, could bring a tear to the eye? Why would a bit of milk be so precious?’

Sara started to speak, her back to him. “Your leg must be much better. It has healed very fast.”

“With thanks to you. Doc Brown said you did an excellent job, maybe saved it. Everyone is surprised you are still here.”

“I figured you talked to him. He stopped here yesterday and brought Sadie Hedges, the pastor’s wife with him.”

“They didn’t talk you into moving to town?”

“I wasn’t talking to them,” she said as she turned toward the table and started clearing the supplies away as Sam handed them to her one by one. She placed most of the items on the shelves or in the cupboards which were nearly bare. They did this in silence until they sat down. Sam left a jar of jam on the table to spread on the biscuits. Sara pushed them toward him first but he refused asking her to help herself, then he followed. Opening the tightly sealed jar he slid it across the table. She took a tiny bit on her spoon and spread it on the biscuit.

“Take more,” Sam insisted, “I can bring you more.” She agreed by taking an extra bit on her spoon and passed it to her guest. He helped himself and was pleased to see how she took a bite and savoured the flavour. It appeared to have been a long time since she had the luxury of jam.

“I used to make my own,” Sara started, “but I didn’t have enough sugar this year.” After another small bite she added, “It must be Mrs. Leary’s recipe, it’s very good.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Sam smiled at her, and for a moment he thought he saw a slight one returned. Sara was so serious, and she had every right to be.

Enjoying their lunch, they made light conversation, mainly about how well Sam’s leg had healed. He hadn’t told the doctor about the willow bark tea she had given him, but he did use some of it. He didn’t like the way the laudanum made him dream and feel so tired when he was awake.

Eventually, the talk turned to the weather and how many thought it was going to snow soon.

Sam really hadn’t planned to, but he started to ask Sara about moving to town, at least for the winter. “You could stay at my place. I have a guest room you could use.”

“No,” Sara responded emphatically, “I can manage out here fine. I am not moving into town.”

“But what about the baby, Sara? You can’t stay out here alone.”

Her eyes went very dark. She stood up, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and simply said, “No” as she walked out the door.

Sam knew this was his invitation to leave and there would be no more visiting this day.

By the time he took his hat and coat from the back of the rocking chair, put them on, then stepped out onto the porch, there was no sign of Sara. If he had still been taking the doctor’s painkiller, he may have thought he had been visiting with an imaginary vision. He pulled himself back up onto the cushioned bench seat of the buggy and clucked at the horse to step ahead, giving the reins a slight flick. Before they left the yard, Sam took one last look around and shouted, “Thank you, Sara.” before he made his way back to town.

It was a long ride back to Brandon and it was definitely colder outside. Sam was deep in thought the entire ride back and didn’t notice it had started to snow. As he was nearing town he suddenly realized there must have been at least half an inch of the white flakes on the horse's back. Usually he went to the stable across the street, but today he drove the buggy to the door of his home. He was tired and his leg was getting sore. Eric was expecting his arrival and ran across the road to take the outfit back.

“So, you saw her?” Eric asked.

“Yes,” was all Mr. Fielding replied as he slowly went up the steps.

“Everything all right?” his employee called after him.

“Fine,” he answered back as the door closed behind him.

Eric shrugged his shoulders, thinking his boss’ leg must be bothering him because he had never seen Sam act troubled like this before.

Mary quickly took her employer’s coat and hat as he came into the entrance. “Mr. Fielding, is everything all right?” He was definitely not his usual self and appeared upset.

“Fine, Mary,” he said as he limped heavily on his cane toward the sitting room, “Can you send for Doc Brown?”

“Right away. Do you need anything else?”

“No, just call the doc.”

Mary turned, muttering quietly, “I knew it was too soon.”

Sam walked to the sideboard and poured himself a shot of whiskey from a crystal decanter into a matching shot glass. He downed it in one swallow, refilled the glass and took it with him to an easy chair that matched the settee. He put his head back and slowly his eyes looked around the room. For the first time he really saw what was there. An elaborate tin covered the ceiling, displaying clouds and cherubs. The wallpaper, the draperies, the furniture, the rug on the floor, everything showed off his wealth. He suddenly realized he had so much, and no one to share it with. ‘Sara has so little,’ he thought to himself. A look of anger crossed his face and he pulled his arm back and flung the half-full glass of whiskey into the fireplace, sending the flames flying a little higher. Out loud he continued, “Damn, why can I not stop thinking of her?”

“Of whom?” Doc Brown asked as he came through the sitting room door handing his coat and hat to Mary.

She peered at Mr. Fielding rather cautiously before leaving the room.

Sam waited for Mary to leave then asked the doctor to close the door.

As he did, Doc Brown asked, “Are you having pain in your leg? Let me look at it.”

“My leg is fine.” Sam rose from the chair and walked to the liquor bottles, still relying on the cane. “Something is bothering me, but it is not my leg.”

“What is it?” the older man asked, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder.

He turned and offered the doctor a drink that was accepted with a nod and carried his own back to his seat. “I want you to tell me about Sara Gardiner.”

The doctor sat down on a harder chair at a small table a short distance from his patient. “Sara?” He started taking a swallow. “I didn’t think she would be your type.”

Sam glared back, a serious expression turning to anger, showed on his face.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” Sam sat back in his chair, nursing his drink.

“Well, let’s see what I can remember.” The doctor took a large swallow, cleared his throat, and then started to tell what he knew.

“William and Sara Gardiner came to the Brandon Hills all the way from New Brunswick, saying something about wanting to start a new life in a new land. It must have been about seven years ago. Their son, Willie, was eight years old and he died at fourteen, about two years ago. I met them at Red River when they were travelling west. Lily and I didn’t come out here to live until the spring of ’77, and I think you came out the year before.”

Sam nodded back at the doctor, urging him to continue.

“I remember they were expecting their second child several months later and Sara came to see me before travelling further west. She wanted to continue on their way but William refused to go with her so they stayed in Winnipeg until the baby was born. Sadly the little girl was very weak at birth and died only a few weeks later.” He went to the sideboard, poured himself another drink and refilled Sam’s on the way back to his chair. He set the bottle on the table beside him. “Something haunted me about their situation so Lily and I decided to travel west and we settled in Grand Valley. They lost three more babies, twin boys and a little girl. I tried to get information from McGill University in Montreal at the medical school. It was where I started my education before moving west. At first they didn’t have any information, but I received a letter from a doctor in Philadelphia. Said it sounded like a type of blood disorder they were starting to study. An element is lacking in a small percent of people’s blood. If the mother has this type and the father does not, after the first baby, the others are generally affected, some dying before they are born. I really don’t understand it, but there seems to be nothing that can be done for it yet. I learned this when Sara was carrying their last baby. It almost killed her to realize she would never have another child live.” The doctor stopped at this point and took a large drink, then refilled his glass.