Their Frontier Family Page 4

  Trying to quell her worries, she smiled and walked toward the store’s shady entrance. The storekeeper beamed at her and opened wide the door.

  A memory flashed through her of the storekeeper in Pennsylvania who had wanted her out of his establishment. She missed a beat and then proceeded inside, assuring herself that no one here would ever call her a harlot or touch her in a way that made her cringe.

  Only Noah knew the truth about her past, about Dawn’s illegitimacy. Wisconsin was far from Idaho Territory where Dawn had been born and she couldn’t imagine meeting anyone from her old life.

  Yes, only Noah could ruin her here.

  But he’d never do that. Surely he would never betray her, now that she was his wife...would he?

  She took a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I need anything, Mr. Ashford. But it is good to get out of the sun and see what your fine establishment has to offer.”

  Mr. Ashford beamed at her. “Pepin County is growing every day, now that the war is over and men are looking for a place to settle their families. Of course in the 1600s the Pepin brothers first arrived—Frenchmen, you know. The river made it easy to get to.”

  As Sunny scanned the large store, Mr. Ashford’s seemingly inexhaustible flow continued. “Now you go just a few miles east and you’ll be in the forest and not much in the way of settlers. Your man was smart to homestead here in Wisconsin.” The words your man warmed her to her toes. She’d always had men, not one who’d claimed her as his own.

  “No soddy house for you. With all the trees hereabouts, he can build you a nice snug cabin and have firewood aplenty. ’Course that makes it harder to clear land for a crop. But...” The man shrugged.

  Sunny suddenly sensed Noah and turned to see him just inside, leaning against the doorjamb, silently urging her to come away. This wasn’t the first time that he’d let her know he wanted to keep his distance from others.

  Today she could understand his urgency. It was time to go see their land. “Your store is very neat and well-stocked,” she said as she reluctantly made her way toward Noah.

  Mr. Ashford beamed at her again.

  “Does thee...” Noah stopped and began again. “Do you see anything you need, Sunny? I want to get to our homestead with plenty of time left to set up camp for the night.”

  Still hesitant to leave this cool, shady place, Sunny considered once more. “No, thank you, Noah. I don’t need anything.”

  Noah peeled himself from the doorjamb. “Storekeeper, I’ll need a bag of peppermints.”

  Sunny turned to him, her lips parted in surprise.

  “My wife has a sweet tooth.” One corner of Noah’s mouth almost lifted.

  He’d noticed her buying peppermint drops in Cairo, and savoring one a day till she’d run out.

  The storekeeper chuckled as he bagged peppermint drops and then accepted three pennies from Noah.

  “Shall we go, wife?”

  She smiled, stirred by Noah’s thoughtfulness. “Yes. Good day, Mr. Ashford.”

  “Good day and again, welcome to Pepin!”

  Noah helped her back onto the wagon bench and lifted Dawn up to her. Then he handed her the bag of candy, which she slipped into her pocket as she felt a blush creep over her cheeks.

  Noah led them down the main street and then to a bare rocky track, heading east away from the river, away from town.

  Just before turning onto the track, Sunny glanced back and saw a woman dressed in red satin come out of the saloon and lean wearily against the hitching rail. Sunny averted her eyes, her heart beating faster. But she couldn’t afford to show any pity or sympathy with this woman.

  I must remember which side of the line I belong on now.

  She’d studied how decent women behaved and hoped her masquerade would hold up well. The happy image of Dawn in her white pinafore running toward school and friends bobbed up in her mind again.

  She wouldn’t fail Dawn, no matter what.

  * * *

  Because of the roughness of the track, they progressed slowly, cautiously, through the thick forest of maple, oak and fir. This forest had probably never felt the blade of an ax. Noah marveled at the huge trees and with each landmark, his excitement gained momentum. All those nights when he’d lain alone, sometimes in a tent, sometimes under the open sky, listening to the sounds of war playing in his mind. How long had he dreamed of having a place of his own? How long had he dreamed of having a wife to bring to it?

  Longer than he could say.

  Why did he continue to leave his wife alone at night? His lovely wife, with her soft voice and shy smiles. The truth was, he could not bring himself to touch her. What right did he have? The faces of men he’d killed continued to plague his nights, waking them both. His lungs tightened painfully. How could he touch her when he felt that he belonged with the damned?

  This marriage was out of practical necessity for both of them, nothing more, he reminded himself.

  Finally the big pine, nearly three feet in diameter, loomed ahead of him, the rag he’d tied to a low branch fluttering in the breeze. In the distance he heard the creek rushing with melted snow runoff. He turned to Sunny, feeling the closest thing to joy that he could remember in years. “Our land starts here.”

  Sunny reined in the oxen and looked around at the dense forest. “The storekeeper wasn’t joking when he said there’d be a lot of trees.”

  He nodded with satisfaction. “Enough for all our needs. Let’s head closer to the creek, to our homesite. We’ll make camp there.”

  Sunny glanced at the sun, now hovering just above the horizon, pink-orange clouds shimmering in the tiny slits between the dark wide tree trunks. “We’ll need to hurry to get ready before sundown.”

  He tried not to take her lack of enthusiasm personally. But he couldn’t help noticing that she’d sounded much happier in town.

  “I already cleared a place for our house. And I can get started felling more trees for our cabin first thing in the morning.”

  She nodded. “I want to see it.”

  He led the oxen with his hand at their heads, enduring their slow progress as they shuffled their way through the undergrowth of the forest. Then the clearing opened before them. “Here it is.”

  Her watchful silence followed. He tried to see the clearing through her eyes but couldn’t. “We want to be near the creek, but not so near that we get the mosquitoes that hang close there. And the house will be on the rise, so no spring flooding.” He couldn’t stop himself as he explained how he had chosen the site.

  Sunny tied up the reins.

  He hurried to help her down. She always seemed so frail, and he’d been surprised when she’d asked to learn how to drive the oxen, even though they were docile creatures. When she set her feet on their land, she gazed around assessing it. Then she looked to him. “You chose well.”

  He tried to stop his smile but couldn’t, so he turned away. “I’ll go draw us some fresh water and lead the oxen to the creek. They can drink their fill, and there’s grass there for them to graze on. There’s a spring here, too. We’ll have a spring house—soon.” The dam that held back his words had burst. He tried to stop before he revealed just how glad he was to finally be home.

  “I’ll gather some wood for a fire.” She lifted Dawn, who was just beginning to fuss.

  “You sit down and nurse her,” he said as he unyoked the oxen. He saw her sitting on the step up to the wagon bench, settling Dawn to nurse, and he had to turn his head
from the cozy picture they made.

  Other men came back from the war and went on with their lives. What kept him from being a real husband to her? Why did he resist any attempt by her to get closer? There was a chasm between them he was responsible for and could not bridge. Was he truly protecting her from himself, from the horrible things that lived on inside him?

  Or was he simply incapable of anything even resembling...love?

  Chapter Three

  In the morning Sunny awoke to Dawn’s hungry whimpering. She stared up at the cloth covering of the Conestoga wagon, illuminated with sunlight, and stifled a sigh. She touched the rumpled blanket at her feet that Noah had slept upon—when he wasn’t tossing with another awful nightmare. She heard him already outside, stirring up the cook fire. Lassitude gripped her.

  Dawn began to cry and that moved Sunny. Noah had crafted a kind of hammock just inside the front opening of the canvas top. Sunny lifted her child down, changed her soaked diaper and then put her to nurse. The breeze blew warm and gentle.

  Tears slipped down Sunny’s cheeks. She clamped her eyes closed. Loneliness was stripping away her peace. Weeks had passed since she’d had a simple conversation with another woman. The faces of her mother’s friends, her only friends in the world except for the Gabriels, came to mind. She’d left them all behind. How would she handle this loneliness, keep it from destroying her peace?

  “Good morning, wife.” Noah looked in from the rear opening.

  Sunny blinked rapidly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears. “Good morning,” she replied, forcing a smile.

  “I’ve got the coffee boiling.” His words revealed little but the mundane. Didn’t he ever long to sit with another man and talk of men things? Men came to saloons to do that, just to jaw and laugh. Not that she wanted Noah to go to the saloon in town.

  But, Noah, why don’t you want to talk with other men?

  She patted Dawn, who wore the seraphic smile she always had when nursing. When Sunny looked up, she glimpsed a look on Noah’s face that she hadn’t seen before.

  He looked away quickly.

  She sensed such a deep loneliness and hidden pain in him. But she also keenly felt the wall he kept between them. “I’ll be out soon.”

  “No rush. We have a good day. Perfect for felling trees.”

  Sunny tried to look happy at this news. He turned away and she heard him unloading tools from the storage area under the wagon.

  This won’t last forever. We’ll go to town from time to time. I’ll meet local women, become part of this community. Again she pictured Dawn dressed in a fresh white pinafore, running toward a little white schoolhouse, calling to her friends. And they were calling back to her, happy to see her.

  I can do this. This is Dawn’s future, not just mine.

  * * *

  After breakfast Noah picked up his ax and headed toward the edge of the clearing.

  “Please be careful, Noah,” his wife said.

  Her concern made him feel...something. He couldn’t put a name to it, but it wasn’t bad, whatever it was. “I’m always careful with an ax in my hand.”

  She didn’t look convinced, but in time she would be. He looked at her for a moment, at the way her lush blond hair flowed down her back as she brushed it, getting ready to pin it up for the day.

  His wife was beautiful.

  Turning away to shut this out, he studied the trees at the edge of the clearing and chose which one would be the first for their future cabin. He selected an elm thrice as tall and wide as he. He gauged where he wanted it to fall and took his position. He swung and felt the blade bite the bark and wood, the impact echoing through his whole body. He set his pace and kept a steady rhythm.

  Finally at the right moment he swung and the tree creaked, trembled and fell with a swish of leaves. It bounced once, twice and shivered to a halt. Wiping his brow with a handkerchief, Noah grinned.

  Sweat trickling down his back, he began to chop away the branches so he could roll the first fresh log aside and start on the next tree, a maple. Then he heard something unexpected. He stopped, checking to see if he’d actually heard it.

  In the distance came the sound of another ax. And another.

  Irritation prickled through him.

  “Do you hear that?” Sunny asked from behind him. “Sounds like someone else is felling trees. Maybe they’re building a cabin not too far away.”

  Hoping she was dead wrong, he glanced over his shoulder and glimpsed her smile as she listened intently. She’d obviously just walked back from the creek, a dishpan of washed breakfast dishes in her arms.

  “Might be loggers. Or someone cutting wood for winter so it has time to cure before then.” He turned back to the maple. “You need to keep back from me. When I take a swing, I don’t want to hit you.”

  “I’ll stay back. I’m setting up my outdoor kitchen and such,” she said, moving away.

  The sound of the other axes on the clean spring air echoed around his own swings, making it harder to concentrate and keep his own rhythm. He fumed. I chose this site because it was miles from town and any other homestead. Whoever you are, go away.

  As if the logger had heard his thoughts, the distant chopping stopped.

  He shook his arms and shoulders, loosening them. With renewed purpose, he swung his ax, eating into the corn-hued wood pulp, sending chips and bark flying.

  In between swings he overheard Sunny singing to Dawn. He’d made the right decision. Sunny always kept cheerful, never complained and worked hard. They’d make do.

  Noah was sizing up the third tree when something startled him.

  “Hello, the wagon!” called a cheerful male voice.

  Noah was puzzled for a second, then realized the greeting was a twist on the usual frontier salute of “Hello, the house,” which people often said to let the inhabitants of a house know someone was approaching, giving them time to prepare to welcome rare visitors.

  Just what Noah didn’t need—clever company.

  “Hello!” Sunny called in return. “Welcome!”

  Her buoyant voice grated Noah’s nerves. He lowered his ax, trying to prepare himself to meet whoever had intruded. With one swift downward stroke he sunk the ax into a nearby stump.

  Two men, both near his age, were advancing on him, smiles on their faces and their right hands outstretched. He didn’t smile, but he did shake their hands in turn.

  He wanted to be left alone, but he didn’t want people talking behind his back, thinking him odd. He’d had enough of that in the army and in Pennsylvania. In the army his Quaker plain speech had marked him as odd and back home, he was a Quaker who’d gone to war. He hadn’t fitted in either place. And he’d given up trying.

  “We heard your ax,” the taller of the two said. “I’m Charles Fitzhugh and this is Martin Steward. We’re your closest neighbors.”

  “I’m Noah Whitmore.” Then he introduced the men to Sunny and Dawn, his wife and child. “Your claims must not be very far away.” He clenched his jaw. He’d checked every direction but one—northeast—since he’d been told that no claim lay in those rolling hills.

  “Mine’s a little over a mile away on the other side of a hill—” Charles pointed northeast “—and Martin’s another half mile farther from mine.” The man grinned affably. “I’ve a wife and two daughters, and Martin’s building his cabin to bring his bride to.”

  Martin’s cheeks reddened at this announcement. He had a round face and brown hair in a bowl cut. “She lives south near Galena, Illinois.”

  “What’s her name?” Sunny asked, waving the men toward the fire. She soon was pouring them cups of coffee.

  Noah ground his teeth. Maybe it was time he made things clear to Sunny about not being overly friendly. He hadn’t thought it necessary, based on her
difficult past. He’d assumed she’d want to keep to herself as much as he did. Clearly he had much to learn about his wife.

  Charles complimented Sunny on the coffee and then turned to Noah. “I’m helping Martin get his cabin up. Why don’t we join forces and work together? Three men can get a cabin up in days. Since you’ve a wife and child, we’ll come and help you first and then we can help Martin out. Get him married off sooner than later.”

  Martin face turned a darker red.

  Noah nearly choked, his reluctance shooting up into his throat. “I—”

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Sunny crowed. “So neighborly.” And she wrung each man’s hands in turn. “Isn’t that wonderful, Noah?” She turned, beaming toward him.

  Noah wanted to object, to tell them he didn’t want their help. But the words wouldn’t come. Quakers—not even his father—wouldn’t rudely rebuff any offer of help.

  He nodded and folded his arms over his chest.

  “I already told my wife that we were coming down to stay the day and get a load of work done.” Charles grinned, apparently oblivious to Noah’s reluctance. He and Martin handed Sunny their empty cups.

  “I’ll have lunch enough for all of us,” Sunny promised. She quickly glanced at Noah. “I’ll warn you though, I’m not much of a cook.”

  Noah turned away and the men followed him, discussing which tree to cut down next. Martin said he was good at squaring off and produced his adze, stripping bark from the already-downed trees.

  Soon Noah and Charles were chopping the maple as a team. With each stroke of the his ax, Noah swallowed down his annoyance. Why couldn’t people leave him alone?

  Sunny must be made to understand exactly how he wanted the two of them to live. He needed to make that clear. Once and for all.

  * * *

  By the cook fire Sunny and Noah sat on logs across from each other. Supper eaten, she eyed him in the lowering sunlight, her nerves tightening by the moment. The instant their neighbors had appeared, she’d noted her husband withdrawing. No one else had noticed. But it had been obvious to her. Now he was clenching and unclenching his hands around his last cup of coffee, frowning into the fire. Why didn’t he like such kind neighbors coming to help?