An Unexpected Widow (The Colorado Brides Series) (7 page)

“No need. Already did it.”

“Thank you.”

“Have some tea.”

“I’m making breakfast first.”

“Jerry and I ate already.”

“What did you eat?”

“I hardboiled some eggs. Made some slapjacks. Nothin’ fancy.”

I glanced at the sink, noting there weren’t any dishes. “Oh.”

“We clean up after ourselves pretty good.”

“When we come back from the William’s, I’ll make a proper lunch.”

“There’s no need.” I turned to look at him, seeing a man who hadn’t shaved in a few days. He eyed me. “You sleep at all last night? Doesn’t look like it.”

“I…tried.”

“Maybe there’s good news today. Doctor Caldwell’s gonna take a look at those legs again.”

“Yes, I know. I want to be there when it happens.”

“You best eat somethin’ then, so we can get a wiggle on.”

My appetite was nonexistent. “We can go now.”

“You haven’t eaten anything.”

“I…can have something later.” This didn’t sit with him well, as his expression dimmed. “I’m fine, Mr. Weaver. I usually eat very little in the morning anyhow.”

“You’re welcome to call me Nathan.”

Our eyes met. “Thank you for being so kind to me.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Hannah.” He got to his feet. “Jerry’s staying to work the field. We’d best go, so I can help him later.”

“I can take the wagon on my own. You don’t need to escort me.”

“I’m seeing to your safety, Mrs. Clark. You’re not going out there alone.”

His concern was endearing, and I felt myself softening towards him. My earlier assumptions had been rash, but he was still only a stranger. In the wagon, I glanced at him. “You’re from Missouri?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is your family there?”

“My ma and pa died of sickness, my brothers took off to parts unknown, and my sister went to California. All that’s left are a handful of elbow relations.”

“That’s sad.”

He gave me a look; his eyes were shaded beneath the hat. “Yeah, well, I’m not waiting on any Christmas cards.”

“That brings me to mind. I need to write my mother and sisters.”

“Your family’s in New York?”

“Yes, near Troy.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s north of the city.”

“Never been out that way before.”

He wasn’t older than twenty-five. “Have you ever been married?”

“Nope.”

“Ever come close?”

“Nope.”

“Ever been in love?” I watched him carefully, his mouth working, while he swallowed. He was difficult to read, and I wasn’t sure in the least, if I had hit a nerve or not. “Mr. Weaver?”

“I got nothin’ to say about that. Nothin’ a lady should hear anyway.”

We didn’t speak again, until we reached the William property, where, to my surprise, there were men working on the roof of the barn, finishing what had been abandoned the day before. I tamped down the bitterness I felt, hating the emotion.

Nathan glanced at me. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

“Maybe I am.”

Chapter Seven

When I thought about things, they either fit into “the before Frank’s accident” or “after Frank’s accident”. What came before were happy memories of times spent in each other’s company, working towards our goals and starting a new life out west. My new memories were not as joyful. My days were spent tending to Frank, who continued to be perplexingly upbeat, even though he wasn’t able to feel anything from the waist down. Then there was the constant worry over the future and what would become of us now.

Doctor Caldwell had pulled me aside a week earlier, saying, “I don’t know how to tell you this, Mrs. Clark, but…he might never be able to walk again. The bones are healing, but the paralysis seems permanent. You’d best prepare yourself, because there’s a strong possibility he’ll be incapacitated.”

I had accepted this grim prognosis, having no other choice. Nathan and Jerry had brought a bed into the dining room, where I made curtains for privacy, separating the space from the parlor and the entryway. Frank’s new accommodations suited him just fine. He’d surrounded himself with books, reading all day long, while convalescing.

I’d received visitors; Adaline, Rhoda, and Sally had stopped by, bringing casseroles and well-wishes. They’d all seemed hopeful at first, but then, after realizing that Frank wouldn’t be able to walk again, they’d glanced at me with sympathy. The letters I sent to my family returned with similar sentiments. I didn’t have the heart to tell my parents that my husband might never walk again. I would spare them that for as long as I could.

Jerry and Nathan worked the farm, as planting season was underway, but I was trapped in the house, either washing or cooking. Frank’s inability to feel anything in his lower extremities made bodily functions an ordeal. He wore a type of diaper. I sometimes spent hours doing laundry, scrubbing over the washboard with lye soap, which irritated my skin. My hands were a mess.

After Jerry approached me about wages, I realized a trip to Denver City was in order. It was well past time to go to the bank. I left Frank to his reading, while I stepped up into the wagon, with Nathan holding the reins.

“I need a revolver. Then I can go to town alone. It’s silly that you have to escort me.”

He cast a sideways glance. “That’s a terrible idea. Women shouldn’t handle weapons. You’re liable to hurt yourself.”

I pursed my lips. “If it’s good enough for Sally Higgins, I don’t see why I can’t manage a weapon.”

“Women and guns don’t mix. It’s like Indians and liquor. Bad idea.”

“Must you always be so…blunt?”

“Yes, ma’am.” A toothpick hung from the side of his mouth.

“I didn’t have time to make a list.” I searched my mind, committing to memory the supplies I needed. Knowing my luck, I’d forget the most important items. “Remind me later, I need a new inkpot.”

“Will do.”

A thought registered. “Didn’t you say you had to leave soon to help someone?”

“Plans have changed.”

“How so?”

“Cause I’m needed here more.”

“Oh.”

Nathan wasn’t normally the most talkative person, and he seemed pensive today, more so than usual. Sensing he wasn’t interested in conversation, I kept my thoughts to myself, anticipating the trip into Denver City, as it was a distraction from the tedium of my life. Once we arrived, the streets were surprisingly empty.

“Where’s everyone gone?”

“Mining. They found silver.”

“That’s all it takes to clear the city?” My tone was slightly cynical.

We left the wagon, the horse tied securely to a sturdy wooden rail outside the post office. Freight wagons had arrived, as men unloaded crates. Nathan helped me down, supporting my wrist.

“Won’t you come in and see about your mail?”

“My mail?” He snorted. “Most people I know can’t read or write, Mrs. Clark. I’ve a better chance of gettin’ struck by lightning than gettin’ a letter.”

I wasn’t sure how I would respond to that. “Fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He tipped his hat. “I’ll be waiting.”

I mailed my letters, obtaining several new ones, which usually brightened my day, but I knew they would be filled with sympathetic language and anecdotes on what I should do to help Frank walk again. He had tried to sit up the other day, but even that had been impossible. He couldn’t feel anything from his navel down.

“Wait, Mrs. Clark,” said the postmaster, who rushed to the back of the store. “I might have something else for you.”

Two men appeared with a rustic-looking crate. “Oh, my goodness.” I hadn’t ordered anything that I knew of. “Who’s it from?”

“A Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman of Troy, New York.”

“What have they done?” I murmured to myself.

“Pardon?”

“Oh, never mind. What is it?”

He grinned. “That’ll be for you to discover, Mrs. Clark. You need any help getting this out?”

“Yes, please.” I had been in poor spirits just moments earlier, but the prospect of whatever this box contained excited me. “Thank you.” The men carried the crate out the door, towards the carriage, while Nathan stood by the conveyance, his eyes widening at the size of the parcel.

“What’s that?”

“I have no idea. It’s from my parents.”

“What’s it say on the invoice?”

“I’ll find out.” I rushed into the building, striding towards the counter. “Where’s the invoice, Mr. Parnell?”

“Excuse me?” he looked up from whatever he was reading.

“The invoice on my package.”

“Just a moment.” He rifled through a stack of papers, pulling out a crumpled sheet. “It says, one Bath wheelchair.” My parents had purchased a wheelchair for my husband! Stunned, I could only stare at the postmaster. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Mrs. Clark?”

“No, thank you.” I rushed from the building, feeling elated that my family had gone through such effort and expense for Frank. “It’s a wheelchair!”

“Fantastic.”

It had been hoisted onto the wagon. “I need to stop at the bank and the mercantile.” Nathan seemed unperturbed, chewing casually on the toothpick. “You needn’t watch over me. We can meet in an hour, if you like.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course.”

He pushed himself away from the wagon, as he had been leaning against it. “Alrighty then.”

“W-where will you be?”

“I’ll gonna kick up a row at the bar.”

My expression fell. “Oh, Mr. Weaver. You wouldn’t.”

“It’s only an hour. That’s hardly enough time to get into any
real
trouble.” He grinned, flinging the toothpick to the ground. Then he tipped his hat. “Happy shopping.”

I sighed, watching as he sauntered off, his boots clicking on the wooden walkway. He disappeared into the saloon, while hearty male shouts rang out and someone said, “Where’d you go, Nathan? Haven’t seen you for ages. You take French leave or what?”

“Shut up, and pour me a drink.”

Disgusted with the prospect of having to spend the afternoon with a drunkard, I held a burgundy, drawstring purse, determined to have a word with the banker regarding my husband’s affairs. I needed money to pay wages, although I had never handled these matters before in my life. I hated arithmetic, and I felt a twinge of resentment that I now had to deal with this business on top of everything else.

Mr. Ross led me through a set of swinging doors to his office. “How’s Frank doing, Mrs. Clark?”

“He’s in fine spirits. Thank you.”

“I hope he’ll be able to make a full recovery.” He sat behind a heavily carved desk. His expression was concerned, his brows furrowing.

“I…don’t know what you’ve heard, but…it’s looking like his paralysis might be permanent.”

“That’s grave news indeed.”

“I’m here because I need money to pay wages, sir. I’ve no idea about such things, as you can imagine, but now I have to take care of them.”

He opened a folder, reading for a moment. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “I’m not certain how much you know, but the account is nearly depleted.” He handed me a piece of paper with numbers written on each line, ending with the sum of $30.

“You mean to tell me that there’s only thirty dollars left in the account?”

“Yes, ma’am. However,” he held up another paper, “you owe several hundred to various businesses.”

My stomach fell. “What?”

“Your husband borrowed money to pay for lumber and supplies, Mrs. Clark.”

I placed fingers over my mouth to keep my lips from trembling. “Why, I didn’t know about that at all. He never said anything. I thought we had plenty of money.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“C-can I get a few dollars to pay for wages?”

“Certainly.”

“Then I’ll think of how I’m going to repay everybody.”

“Mrs. Clark, some household debt it not uncommon. This isn’t an insurmountable obstacle. I’m sure once your husband’s back on his feet, he’ll think of a way to repay his debts. People know he’s met with misfortune. They’ll give him some leeway.”

“I’ll need about twenty dollars then, and I’ll be going.” I got to my feet, although my knees shook. “Thank you, Mr. Ross.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Clark.”

My mind spun unhappily, and, as I left the bank, I felt like crying, but I had to keep myself together long enough to make all of my purchases. At the mercantile, Sally Higgins stood behind the counter wearing a frilly white cap.

“Well, hello, Hannah. How’s Frank?”

“He’s as good as can be expected.”

“We’re all praying he makes a full recovery. The new pastor isn’t nearly as gifted as your husband. I hope he can come preach again real soon.” There were other customers, and I noticed that they lingered, taking more time than necessary looking at things. They wanted to hear all the gossip.

“I…things are real good, Sally. He’s feeling so much better now. The corn’s growing by heaps, and the pigs had another litter. I’ve got eggs everywhere from those chickens.”

“You should bring the extras in or they’ll spoil. We sell fresh produce too.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “What a wonderful idea. It would be wasteful to let them spoil.” I searched my mind for the things I needed. “I’m looking for an inkpot. Mine dried up.”

“We have some right here.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I’ve not been by to see you lately.”

“That’s fine. I know you’re busy.”

“Come in Sunday after church, and we’ll have tea.”

“That’s a wonderful idea.”

I tried desperately to even out my voice, to exude an aura of nonchalance and carefreeness. By the time I left the store, I was exhausted, and my head ached. Nathan stood by the wagon, his hands in his pockets.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you already.” I thought I would have to find someone to go into the saloon and get him.

“Let me help with that.” He took the packages from me.

“Thank you.”

I climbed onto the seat without assistance, wanting to leave Denver City as quickly as possible. More miners had shown up, as the day had worn on; their presence set me on edge, as they leered at me from the boardwalk. Nathan, oblivious to my suffering, took up the reins, spurring the horse into a slow trot.