A Place Called Harmony (11 page)

“Thank you all. Mr. Ely told me you were coming.” She turned back to her husband. “Tomorrow, when the captain wakes up, I’ll tell him all about how you saved his life. Right now, if you’ll move him very quietly into my bedroom, I’ll sit up with him. It must be close to midnight and I’m sure you’d all like to get some sleep.”

Clint Truman and Patrick McAllen did as she’d asked while Patrick’s wife took the girl into the store to find a nightgown. Daisy could do nothing but watch. Gillian looked like a huge rag doll as the men moved his arms into a nightshirt and then pulled off his muddy boots and trousers.

Daisy smiled. Her husband had never worn a nightshirt. He’d be surprised to wake up with one on in the morning. She followed as the men carried him to the room beside the kitchen that had been Mr. Ely’s bedroom.

Now the old storage room was crowded with beds: two small cribs she’d brought with her, one regular bed, and a set of bunk beds for her oldest two sons.

Patrick smiled and whispered, “Reminds me of home. I’m the youngest of six brothers and we all slept in the same room. My mom used to say we slept in the same room so long we snored in harmony.”

As they carefully lowered Gillian into the bed, Patrick asked Truman, “How about you? Did you come from a big family?”

The man in black didn’t smile. Truman simply said, “No.”

Patrick nodded as if he’d figured out something. “I guess you and the missus are planning to have a big family. Give that baby of yours lots of brothers and sisters.”

“No,” Truman said. “I think we’ll only have one. Might get one that talks too much if we keep going.”

He glared at McAllen so hard Daisy almost laughed before she shooed them both out of the room. The last thing she needed was for the babies to wake up. Abe at four and Ben at three would probably go back to sleep, but the twins would be up the rest of the night.

“I’ll sit with your man awhile, Mrs. Matheson,” Ely said from the doorway. “You might want to check on the girl. She’s welcome to sleep in the kitchen close to the stove. To tell the truth I don’t think she wants to be any farther away from the captain.”

Daisy thanked him. Old Ely wasn’t a naturally friendly man. Most days he didn’t say one nice thing to anyone, but he cared about children. She’d seen it in his worry over her boys and now about the girl.

When Daisy found the girl, who said her name was Jessie, she was cleaning away the mess they’d made doctoring Gillian.

Without a word, Daisy hugged her and they both cried. Finally when Daisy pulled away, she said, “Thank you for bringing him to me.”

Jessie nodded. “I knew he’d die if we didn’t keep moving. Except to let the horses rest now and then we haven’t stopped moving for three days. Yesterday, sometime, I think I must have fallen asleep on my feet. The mare the Captain bought me must have wandered off, but I didn’t have the time to go look for her.”

Dark circles shadowed the girl’s eyes and her hands were raw from gripping the rough rope.

Daisy sat her down and cleaned her hands, covering the tiny cuts with lanolin and wrapping the palms with soft cotton. Then she warmed soup and sliced bread for Jessie.

While she watched her eat, Daisy slowly pieced together what had happened. The girl looked too tired to chew, so Daisy helped her to the cot and said good night.

“Will I have to leave come morning?” Jessie asked.

“No. You’re part of our family for as long as you want to be. We’ll not hold you if you want to leave or ever turn you out.”

Jessie smiled and closed her eyes as Daisy layered blankets over the girl, then walked out to the store where she heard the others talking.

The sense of family covered her once again. Three couples who would build a town had finally come together.

Daisy thanked them all once more and showed them upstairs to their rooms. Ely had moved his few belongings into the first room off the landing. The other two rooms were farther down a hallway with a bathing room at the back.

As she walked, she talked. “Mr. Ely told me he has three kids and these will be their rooms when his family comes. His wife said she’s not making the trip until there is a town. He’s spent years building his business at the trading post. I’ve been here for two weeks and am surprised at how many people pass through.”

Truman pointed to the back bedroom. “We’ll take this one, dear,” he said to his silent wife.

She nodded and moved inside.

Truman turned to the others. “Any idea what the old guy has planned for us?”

Daisy grinned. “I don’t think he has much of a plan, just a dream, but I’ve been talking to him.” She turned to Annie. “If you can help me with breakfast in the morning, we can all talk about a plan then.”

“If the kitchen is stocked, I can manage breakfast for eight, ready to eat by dawn.” Annie straightened with pride. “I’m used to cooking for a group. I’ll cook and you watch over that injured man of yours.”

Daisy agreed. “It’s stocked, but if you need anything there is a store a door away.”

Everyone except Truman laughed, relaxing for the first time.

The young couple, Patrick and Annie, took the middle bedroom and said good night as Daisy walked back down the stairs. In an odd way she no longer felt homesick. She was surrounded by her new family, and they’d help her watch over Gillian until he was whole again.

After stoking the fire in the kitchen stove, she slipped out of her dress and lay on the other side of the bed from Gillian.

He was so still she wasn’t sure he was breathing. Putting her hand on his chest, she whispered, “Get better, my one love. Get better. We’ve much to do here.”

T
RADING
P
OST

Truman closed the door to what would be his bedroom until the homes were built. It was small, with a bed, a desk, and a chair. He felt like a giant invading the room of one of the seven dwarves. Ely had built the upstairs room for his three children, but they wouldn’t come until the town was finished. There were no curtains on the windows or rugs on the floors, but the place was warm and dry. It would serve fine.

Folding his black coat over the chair, Truman tried to relax. He hadn’t carried a bleeding soldier since the war. Tonight brought back the hell he’d lived in for four years. The smell of blood. The chaotic panic of trying to fight death for a man’s life.

Karrisa set her bag on the bed and pulled out a nightgown. “If you’ll watch the baby, I’ll go down the hall to the washroom and change.”

“You don’t have to leave the room to change. I am your husband.” He didn’t know why he’d said such a thing. Maybe because the other two couples seemed to be really married, not simply pretending to be. Karrisa was playing her part, but they still were far more strangers than friends.

When he met her gaze, he saw fear in her eyes again. They’d been together long enough to have developed a bit of trust between them, but she still looked at him as if he’d try to kill her at any moment. She was the one who’d gone to prison, not him. If anyone should worry about waking up dead, it should be him.

“Forget I said that,” he snapped. “I need to go down and take care of the horses. Take your time in here. I’ll bring in enough blankets to make my bed over by the window and the basket for the baby to sleep in. Anything else you’ll be needing tonight?”

“No,” she answered, then stood frozen as he passed her and left the room.

Clint made it to the barn before he shook the anger with a list of swear words mostly aimed at himself. He might have been her last choice for a husband, or more likely her only choice, but he’d been kind. He’d never yelled and he’d tried not to make everything he said sound like an order. He even traveled slower than usual so she wouldn’t tire out on the trip.

The least she could to do was not brace for a blow every time he was within striking distance of her.

Suddenly realizing someone must have hit her several times to cause such a reaction, Clint calmed.

Swearing again, Clint decided he’d put a bullet in the man if he ever came across him. That would probably have him thinking twice about hitting a woman, if his cracked skull could hold a thought. Clint considered that the guy could have been a prison guard, but she had no bruises when she walked out. Her body was frail from bad food and delivering a baby, not beatings.

Questions, he thought. Questions he’d never ask his wife about.

He fought the urge to go back for one of the bottles of whiskey he’d seen on the shelf at Ely’s store. A few drinks would take the edge off his life. He had no idea how the job was going to work out now that one of the men was down. Or how long he could stay married to a woman who obviously hated him. She never said one thing to him that she didn’t have to. If liking being around him could be measured on a scale of one to ten, Clint figured he’d be sitting on zero.

Every time he saw her rocking the baby he thought of another time, another wife, another baby. Part of him wanted to tell her that once he’d had a woman who thought he hung the moon and didn’t freeze every time he got within three feet of her.

Only he couldn’t talk about his Mary. He’d sworn he’d never bring up his past or Karrisa’s. But somehow this not talking didn’t seem the way to start. They couldn’t very well spend the rest of their lives not speaking, not touching.

Or could they? He decided that being around someone who didn’t want to be there was worse than being alone, and he’d become an expert at being alone.

After he brushed down the horses, Clint walked through the barn taking inventory. Whatever his job would be tomorrow morning, he needed to know where things were. The old guy was well stocked with what looked like enough hay to last the winter and enough lumber lining the back wall to frame out at least one house. Two years didn’t seem long enough to build a town, but the old man seemed to think that if they put up the buildings folks would be like ants at a picnic. They’d just move in.

When he finally walked back to his bedroom upstairs, Clint heard the young couple in the middle room whispering and laughing softly. They were no more than kids, but Patrick and Annie seemed made for each other. They touched every time they got within three feet of each other. Patrick was tall and she was short and rounded, but somehow they fit together.

Turning the doorknob on the last door, he slipped into his room, surprised to find the lamp still burning low. Karrisa was in bed with the baby tucked in beside her. Her eyes were closed, but he doubted she was asleep.

He moved to her side of the bed. “I brought you up a cup of well water. Thought you might get thirsty after the baby nurses.”

“Thank you.” She shifted and took the cup. “I know you don’t think so, but you are good to me. I’ve no complaints, Truman.”

He didn’t know what to say. How bad must all the men in her life have been for her to think a hard man like him was good to her?

“You all right with this setup, dear? I don’t think I heard you say a word to anyone tonight.”

“I’m fine.” She set the half-empty cup down beside her bed.

“That’s all?” He wanted her to say more.

“After watching Daisy doctoring tonight, I think the first thing we will need in our new house is a medicine box.”

“All right.” He waited for her to say more.

She looked a little frightened, as if she’d been put on the spot. It took her a while, but she added, “Everyone seemed nice.”

They were on safe ground now. They could talk about the others, and for a change he needed to talk. “The McAllens are young. Little more than kids. Old Ely said he’s a good carpenter, but it bothers me that he doesn’t carry a gun. With Captain Matheson down, if trouble comes, I may have to handle it alone.”

“Can you do that?”

“I can,” he answered without hesitation. “I was barely seventeen when I ran off to the war. I was trained very well over the years.” He hesitated, not knowing how much to tell her. “I’d rather face a half dozen men alone than have to worry about McAllen getting hurt trying to help. So if a fight comes, I’ll do my best to keep him out of it.”

She asked no questions.

He walked over to the window and stared out at the moon, remembering the times he’d killed. In self-defense, to save others, because he was ordered to. The reasons didn’t matter. The ghosts of those who died would always haunt his nights.

After a while, he spread his blanket out and lay down on the floor. Before he fell asleep, the baby began to fuss.

Karrisa sat up and opened her gown. As she began to breast-feed, Clint realized she hadn’t turned around or covered herself with one of the baby blankets. She had no idea if he was awake or asleep in the shadows. The light from the moon came through the window, crossed above him, and shone on her.

Her breasts were full and nicely rounded, her skin as pale as her gown. When she finished she tucked the baby in the basket he’d left by her bed, and then she buttoned up her gown. As she slipped the last button in, she raised her head and stared directly at him. “You are my husband,” she whispered. “I’ve no reason to turn away when dressing or undressing.”

He’d lost the ability to speak. All he could do was stare and wonder if she could see him watching her. Had she been talking to him, or herself?

The next morning, while he held the baby, he pretended not to watch as she removed her nightgown and slipped into her clothes. After all, he wasn’t interested in her as a woman. She was a wife in name only. Plus, she wasn’t beautiful. Way too thin with hair that had no shape at all.

When he handed her back the baby, he said simply, “Now you are ready, it’s time we go down to breakfast, dear.”

She followed him out of the room and down to the little kitchen behind the store. Leaves had been added to the table to accommodate ten chairs, but there was barely room to walk.

As promised Annie, Patrick’s wife, had made what she called a farm breakfast, complete with pancakes, eggs, and ham. She told anyone who listened about how her father had her cooking for his new wife and her daughters by the time she was eight.

Daisy was already at the table and smiling. Her husband hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but his fever was down and he seemed to be resting easy. “The captain won’t stay down long,” she repeated to everyone, as if saying the words made them true.

Ely joined them, saying that the girl, Jessie, had asked if she could sit with Captain Matheson for a while. The old man couldn’t stop smiling. His dream was about to come true. He filled his coffee and picked up his plate. “I eat in my store at sunrise. Open seven to seven every day but Sunday. Expect all of you to work the same hours except a week off if you need to plant a garden in the spring. Anything you grow or make can be sold in the store. You keep the profits as long as I keep one out of every ten things, be it pies, eggs, or carrots, to stock my kitchen. Any questions?”

Patrick, who’d been helping his wife put the food on the table, asked, “What am I going to do with all my free time?”

Everyone laughed, but Clint had the feeling Patrick had asked an honest question. In truth, he wondered the same thing. Seven at night to bedtime seemed a long while to spend in a little room with a woman who never talked to him.

He pulled her chair out and waited for her to sit down. As usual, she didn’t say a word. He really didn’t care. Being sober made him aware of how much time people waste talking.

Clint didn’t miss the four chairs at the far end of the table filled with tiny little boys who looked just like their father, Captain Matheson. Daisy introduced them with a wave of her spoon. Abe, who could talk, said he was four. Ben, who spoke in some indecipherable language, sat beside his older brother. The other two didn’t look old enough to walk and were both tied in their chairs with apron strings.

“Twins?” Clint asked the stupid question.

“No.” Patrick pulled up the chair next to him. “Why would you say that, Truman? What was your first clue?”

All the women, even his wife, laughed at Clint.

“Look, kid, I was just trying to make conversation.” Clint decided he could dislike Patrick McAllen if he half tried.

“Don’t call me
kid
,” Patrick said politely. “Name’s Patrick.”

Clint saw a touch of steel in the kid’s green eyes. “You got it, Patrick.” Maybe the kid was worth liking after all. Clint respected men who stood up.

They ate breakfast like they were all half starved. Patrick’s wife, Annie, said shyly that she’d cook more tomorrow. “Since I’m the only one without children to worry about, it makes sense that I’ll cook the meals. Breakfast at dawn. A simple lunch at noon and supper when you get in at seven. Fair enough? I’ll try to make desserts as I cook and they’ll be left on the table if anyone gets hungry between meals.”

No one argued. It had been so long since Clint had a dessert, he wasn’t sure what they were. Maybe he’d try to come in every afternoon that they were working close by and have coffee and dessert with his wife. She could stand to gain a few pounds.

In the silence, Clint was surprised Karrisa spoke up. “I’ll do the dishes after every meal and make the bread as needed. I’ll also keep the water buckets filled in both the kitchen and the dressing room upstairs.”

Daisy jumped in to offer help. “When the boys take their naps, I’ll help out in the store as soon as the captain’s better. Ely has a good business, but he’ll be the first to admit that his books are a mess.” Daisy glanced from Annie to Karrisa. “We’ll work everything out here. It’ll be easier than building a town.”

Patrick moved his plate aside and spread out a piece of brown paper. “I talked with Ely early this morning. He has no idea how to start, so I came up with some ideas for building that need working on before spring. For the time being I suggest we use the kitchen as our meeting place and headquarters. I thought I’d start on the buildings that would benefit us all the first week and move to the houses next. We’ll need a better smokehouse, a forge, and there’s work that needs to be put in on the barn to hold not only our stock but our supplies.”