Lyn Cote Page 17

  Marta curtsied.

  Mrs. Ashford blushed at the praise. Her husband replied, “Mr. Lang, you tell Mrs. Bollinger we were happy to help. And that we hope she and her sons will prosper in New Glarus.”

  Marta shook hands with both Ashfords as Amanda came around the side of the store and approached Gunther. The lad tied up the reins and climbed down to meet her.

  Ellen was watching the Ashfords observe the young couple, wishing each other farewell. Marta came to her and tearfully shook her hand. “Danke. Danke.”

  Ellen drew Marta close and pressed her cheek to hers. The woman had become a friend and now they must part. “God be with you, Marta.”

  Kurt helped Marta up onto the wagon bench next to Gunther. Her three boys sat at the back of the wagon, looking out over the raised tailgate and waving their farewells.

  “You stay safe, Gunther!” Mrs. Ashford called out.

  The lad looked shocked, but responded with a polite bow of his head, “Yes, ma’am, I will.”

  Ellen maintained a straight face. Mrs. Ashford constantly presented yet another facet of human nature. Though Ellen sincerely doubted a drooping eyelid would keep Amanda from marrying, Mrs. Ashford obviously was not going to risk alienating a possible suitor.

  In Ellen’s arms William fussed a little as if he were aware that friends were leaving. Ellen rocked him close and hummed to him as she stood beside Kurt. Together, they watched the wagon turn and head southward along the trail that followed the Mississippi, that mighty river, all the way south to the delta at New Orleans.

  When she could no longer see the wagon, Ellen started walking toward the Brawleys. Kurt fell into step beside her. She didn’t understand why Kurt was walking with her, but she was glad of his company. Each step weighed upon her. She hadn’t heard anything from the Brawleys since the measles outbreak.

  It was difficult for her to admit it, but having Kurt by her side made her cares easier to bear. He was the kind of man who could help solve any problem, any issue. In that way, he was invaluable.

  Actually, she was beginning to realize that Kurt Lang was invaluable to her in many ways. The question was, what was she going to do about it?

  *

  “You are worried?” Kurt said, unable to keep the words back. After the wagon had disappeared around a bend, he’d also been unable to make himself turn and walk home as he should. This morning, Ellen had some magnetic force he couldn’t break free from. Which, to be honest, was no different from any other morning in his recent memory.

  “I am worried,” she admitted.

  “Tell me.”

  She shook her head. “A waste of words. And most of what we worry about never happens.”

  He chewed on this idea, appreciating how she did not give in to worry, an unusual trait. Crows, fat with pilfered corn, sat in the bare trees and mocked the two of them. Overhead, geese flew in a long V against the gray sky. Crumpled red and amber leaves and golden pine needles littered the path beneath their feet. Somehow walking beside this special woman heightened his wonder at the beauty all around them and gave him a simple joy.

  As they approached the Brawley cabin, Kurt noted that Ellen straightened as if she were bracing for something.

  When Mr. Brawley stepped outside the cabin and folded his arms, she didn’t seem surprised.

  However, Kurt didn’t like the man’s hostile stance.

  “Miss Thurston, I’m sorry but my wife won’t be watching your foundling anymore. We can’t take the chance of you bringing disease from the school to our house.”

  Kurt bristled at the man’s tone. This was not how he should speak to a lady like Miss Thurston. He took a step forward then halted. Ellen would not want him to make a scene.

  Ellen stopped short. “I understand. Give my regards to your wife.”

  Kurt sent the man a disgruntled look and turned with Miss Thurston, impressed with her aplomb.

  When they were out of sight of the cabin, she looked at Kurt. “Unfortunately, my worry proved to be warranted this time. What am I going to do with William during the school days?”

  He wanted to say, I’ll keep him. But of course, he couldn’t. He, too, had work to do, and more than usual with Gunther gone for at least a week. “I will take him to Mrs. Steward today. She will watch him.”

  Ellen let out a long sigh. “Thank you, Kurt. I can always count on you.”

  She had said his given name again. Delight shimmered over him and then caution rattled a warning. He recalled Marta’s words about how Ellen would never choose to be with a foreigner. He refused to allow himself to consider what her use of his given name meant, pushing his joy away.

  In front of the General Store, they paused.

  “I’ll walk Johann home after school,” she said. “Please tell Ophelia I’ll come and pick up William then.” She transferred William and his sack of necessaries to Kurt. “Thank you so much.”

  Kurt nodded and turned with a wave. He strode down the path toward the Stewards’, troubled by thoughts he had no right to be thinking. And all because she’d called him by his given name, an act that had much more meaning to him than she could possibly know.

  For a brief moment, Kurt allowed himself the pleasure of wondering what it would be like to be able to talk to Miss Thurston exactly as he really wished to, to tell her what he thought of her, not to hold back anything. He wished he could just walk with her in an evening, just the two of them…and as more than friends. He thought of brushing her pale cheek with the back of his hand and burying his face once more in her fragrant silken hair. He tamped down the feelings these errant ideas sparked. Oh, Ellen…

  Chapter Seventeen

  Weary, Ellen sat at the table in Ophelia and Martin’s cabin, trying to think of someone to replace Mrs. Brawley. She sipped her tepid coffee and rested her elbow on the table, not caring that it was unladylike, as little Nathan crawled around William’s basket, chattering baby talk.

  Ophelia was washing the supper dishes in a tin tub on the table. Ellen drained her cup and handed it to her. “I really appreciated your watching William today. Are you sure you can care for him tomorrow?” Ellen asked.

  “Yes, and I’m going to keep him here tonight,” Ophelia insisted, shaking out the damp dish towel. “You need one night of completely uninterrupted sleep. I see how dragged out you are. And pale.”

  If you only knew, Ellen thought.

  This afternoon, as she was teaching, the realization had dawned on her that she had begun thinking of Mr. Lang as Kurt. She’d even accidentally referred to him as Kurt several times, and wondered if he had noticed. She tried to convince herself that this was merely a sign of their growing friendship but she was too honest to let herself get away with that fib. Kurt Lang had become special to her, very special. And she tried not to make more of this than she should. Memories of Holton had faded. Holton and Kurt were cut from very different cloth, very different men.

  Then she heard Kurt’s voice outside, greeting Martin, who was finally up and about, and able to tend to his animals.

  “I’m glad when Kurt brought William this morning, he offered to drive you back in our cart to save you the long walk home. You look exhausted.”

  Ellen didn’t have the strength to argue with her. Something beside her fatigue was weighing her down. But what? Kurt’s handsome face flickered in her mind. She closed her eyes as if this would make the image go away.

  “Miss Thurston?” Kurt entered, his hat in hand. “I am ready to drive you home.”

  His voice sent chills up her arms, a feeling she hadn’t ever experienced before, not even with Holton. She rose with a practiced smile in place, spent a moment smoothing William’s bedding and whispering good-night and then donned her bonnet and shawl. The evenings became cooler and cooler. Winter would come all too soon, she feared.

  Ophelia stepped outside to wave goodbye, shutting the door behind her to keep their cabin warm.

  As she took her place on the seat of the cart, Ellen’s arms felt em
pty. For a moment she almost jumped down to run back for William. But she gripped the hard bench under her, hanging on as Kurt started the pony up the rutted, bumpy trail.

  For a moment, she had the impulse to lean her tired head on the broad, substantial shoulder just inches away. She sighed at herself. I’m merely exhausted, not just physically but mentally. That’s what this is all about.

  But tonight, because of Ophelia’s kind offer, she would be able to sleep and begin to recover from the stress of the past few weeks. Her mind returned to the first time she’d sat beside Kurt on this pony cart. He had driven her home and they’d found William in a wooden box on her doorstep. Could that only be a few months ago?

  Neither of them spoke as amber evening turned to black-velvet night. A chilling half-moon lit their way. She snuggled deeper into her wool shawl and felt her chin bobbing. She tried to open her eyes wide but it was too much work. She sighed, letting the veil of sleep soothe her.

  A bump jolted her and she woke with a start and realized she’d fallen asleep on Kurt’s broad shoulder. “Oh,” she breathed.

  “No worry. You were sleepy. It is all right.”

  She blushed and was grateful for the shadows cast over them from the moonlight. Better to say no more. She straightened herself and faced forward, letting herself enjoy sitting near this man, even enjoying the rocking over the ruts in the rough road as they made her slide closer still. She nearly rested her head on his shoulder again.

  And then Kurt turned from the trail to the narrow track into the schoolyard, and Ellen sat up straighter.

  Someone had lit a lamp in her quarters.

  Kurt jerked up sharply on the reins. He glanced sideways, the shadows hiding his expression from her.

  “You are expecting someone?” he asked. When she shook her head, he said, “I will come to the door with you,” and started the wagon on its way again.

  Ellen didn’t demur. With strong hands, he helped her down from the cart and they walked together to the door. She paused there.

  Who was waiting for her? Had Randolph come again, bringing bad news from home?

  She refused to let fear get a toehold. She turned the knob and pushed the door open, but pausing, not entering immediately.

  Cissy turned to her, the glow from the lamp and low fire lighting her pretty face and strawberry-blond curls.

  “Cissy!” Ellen ran forward. She had no other words to say.

  “Oh, Nell,” her sister wailed and threw herself into Ellen’s arms.

  Kurt cleared his throat. “I will go now. After school tomorrow, I will bring William when I pick up Johann.”

  Ellen gently nudged her sister away. “Thank you, Kurt—Mr. Lang.” She blushed over the slip of her tongue. She must not call this man by his given name. “Please tell Ophelia that my sister has come for a visit.”

  “I will. Good night.” He bowed himself out and shut the door behind him.

  “Who is that?”

  Her thoughtlessness pained Ellen. Why hadn’t she made a proper introduction? Now Kurt probably felt that she didn’t think he was worthy of meeting her sister. “I’ll introduce you tomorrow. That’s Mr. Kurt Lang. He’s a close neighbor to Martin and Ophelia. I ate supper with them and he drove me home.” She heard herself babbling, but couldn’t stop. Her mind was racing, streaming with questions she couldn’t put into words.

  But it seemed that Cissy wasn’t quite listening. She sat in a straight chair and looked away from Ellen. She was the picture of dejection.

  Ellen covered her eyes with her hands and tried to rub away the tiredness. She sank into a rocking chair. After many moments of silence, she said, “I’m happy to see you, Cissy. But you are obviously distressed. Why have you come?”

  Cissy buried her face in her hands and began weeping.

  The sound buffeted Ellen, as if a straw broom were slapping her, trying to break her thin, protective shell. In her haze of exhaustion, Ellen missed the signs of hysteria until Cissy began to have trouble breathing.

  Ellen leaped up and pulled her sister to her feet. “Cissy! Cissy!”

  Her sister slumped against her as if she couldn’t get her breath. Ellen reached past her to the pitcher of water on the table and managed to fill a dipper half-full. She splashed it into Cissy’s face.

  Her sister gasped and then collapsed against her, shaking.

  Ellen realized two things simultaneously. Her sister had worked herself up to a state beyond reason, and she herself was too tired to do anything about it.

  She half-dragged Cissy over to her bed, letting her down gently. Then she removed her sister’s shoes and loosened her corset stays and covered her. Ellen dressed for sleep, blew out the lamp and slid in on the other side of the bed.

  Her last thoughts were selfish ones. She had felt so happy riding with Kurt. And now this. Why did her sister have to come now? I can’t face another crisis.

  *

  Kurt drove slowly home in the nearly complete darkness. The precious moments alone with Ellen had affected him. When she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, he’d felt as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But he’d hated to see how upset Ellen seemed upon finding her sister waiting in her quarters. He knew the shock had made her forget to introduce him. Perhaps it was just as well. Would this sister trouble them as that brother had? Her family obviously didn’t bring happiness to Ellen. Why couldn’t they stay in Illinois where they belonged?

  *

  Drowsy morning dawned after a restless night. Ellen lay in bed, not wanting to open her eyes, to wake completely. Cissy was lying beside her like they had at home as girls. However, they were no longer girls.

  If she opened her eyes, she’d have to face another crisis, one that most likely involved Holton. Unfortunately, waking to the sensation of phantom bricks stacked upon her chest had become all too familiar. What had happened to cause Cissy to come north, and more important, alone?

  Her sister suddenly jolted upright. “Holton, no!”

  Ellen sprang upward herself, and caught her sister. “Cissy, you’re fine. You’re here with me.”

  Her sister fell back, breathing hard.

  Ellen took her hand. “Cissy, what’s wrong?”

  Her sister rolled away from her. “Everything.”

  Glancing at the small bedside table, Ellen glimpsed her pendant watch. The dial read 8:37 a.m. Could that be right?

  She threw back the covers and leaped out of bed. “I must get up! My students will be here in less than a half hour. You rest more, and I’ll make us some tea.”

  Soon she was dressed and brushing the tangles out of her hair. She’d been too tired to brush and braid it last night. All the while, she watched her sister lying in bed, staring at the fire. She prepared tea and set a cup on the table. “Cissy, come and drink your tea.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Cissy sat up slowly as if she were ninety years or more.

  Ellen decided kindness was not working. “I know you’re very upset but not eating will help nothing. Get dressed and make yourself some toast.” She heard voices outside. “The children are arriving and I must begin my day. We’ll see Ophelia later and you’ll meet my little William.” To soften her words, she went over and kissed her sister’s forehead. “And then you can tell me what’s happened.”

  Cissy accepted the kiss but said nothing.

  Ellen crossed to the door and then halted abruptly, what she’d seen catching up with her. When she’d leaned close to her sister, she’d glimpsed a yellowish tinge around her left eye. As if the eye had been bruised.

  Memories of an Irish maid who’d been beaten by a boyfriend bubbled up in her mind. She turned and looked back at her sister who had not moved from the bed.

  “Cissy, is there anything wrong?” Ellen asked tentatively. “Anything you need to tell me?”

  “No,” Cissy replied, not turning to look at her.

  The reply did not satisfy Ellen, but what could she do now?

  And she realized then as much a
s she wanted to know, she wasn’t sure she could handle it. Too much had happened over the past year in her life—grieving her parents, losing Holton, defending William, battling the measles. How much more could she take?

  Though she knew she should go back to her sister, the sounds of more children arriving in the schoolyard propelled her forward. Oh, Lord, what has caused my sister to run to me?

  *

  That evening, Martin, Ophelia, Ellen and Cissy sat around the table in the Steward’s cabin, outwardly calm, inwardly tense. The reason for Cissy’s unexpected visit had yet to be broached, though Ellen knew she was not the only one who’d noticed the slight bruise on her sister’s face.

  As usual, Nathan crawled under the table. William, still thin after his bout with measles, lay in Ellen’s lap as she sipped her coffee. She patted him and savored the last bite of the sweet yet tart apple brown betty with fresh whipped cream Ophelia had made.

  “You’re really becoming a good cook,” she complimented her cousin, trying to put some life into the anxious mood of the room.

  “Yes,” Cissy agreed in such a dispirited tone that even Martin noticed.

  He rose and kissed Ophelia on the forehead. “Another outstanding meal by my lovely wife. I have to see to the stock for the night.” And he escaped the danger of impending feminine emotions.

  “All right,” Ophelia said, taking this pretty bull by the horns, “what’s wrong, Cissy?”

  Cissy shook her head.

  The time for hesitation ceased in Ellen’s opinion. “How did you bruise your eye?”

  One sob escaped her sister’s mouth. “Holton struck me.”

  Despite the fact that Ellen had already suspected this in her heart, she gasped so hard she almost choked.

  Ophelia leaped to her feet, hurried over to Cissy and put her arm around her. “No. Oh, no.”

  Ellen found she couldn’t move or say a word.” It was the last straw,” Cissy declared. “As soon as I was sure I could hide it, I packed up and left him.”

  “Why didn’t you go to Randolph’s?” Ophelia asked. “It’s his place to deal with your husband. A woman’s family protects her, if necessary.”