She would never think of him again.
Kate sat up straight and wiped her face. Her tears stopped. She set her mind on only one thing. She would endure. She would not break. And by the time they topped the rise overlooking the valley of their new homeeleven days later, her heart had dried up like the ruin of a once lush oasis. Kate worked with energy and purpose, but her eyes were dark shadows of what they once were.
And with all the strength that she possessed, she endured.
Chapter 25
Hot,soapywaterfrothedaround Kate’s forearms as she plunged the muddy shirt into the stout barrel and scrubbed it against the washboard. She barely noticed the stinging pain of her chapped hands as the lye found its way into the cracks around her knuckles. Four nearly identical shirts hung on the line. The thin October sunshine was just strong enough to be considered warm. Her hair was held back by a kerchief, and her apron was already soaked, as was the faded green calico dress underneath.
Kate looked at the pile yet to be washed, then up at the sun. Might not make it to her skirts today. But at least Ma and Pa and the boys would have something clean. She caught her breath, tears springing to the surface at the thought. She only had one brother now. Kate put the back of a soapy, dripping hand to her mouth, clenching her eyes shut, forcing the tears back down to her hurting heart, pushing the image of Danny’s laughing face away. Any passerby would see a young woman taking a much-deserved break from her labors, but they wouldn’t know that she was using every ounce of the strength she had within her to keep herself from shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. Kate stood there a long time in the pale afternoon light.
Then she took a deep breath and plucked the next dirty shirt off the pile.
She worked like a machine, not thinking, just bending and scrubbing, wringing and hanging, stoking the fire and filling the kettle from thestream until the sun kissed the distant hills on the horizon and stretched across the land to light the mountains in the east. Kate hung the last of the trousers on the sagging line and knuckled the small of her back. She surveyed the day’s work. As suspected, her two spare skirts would have to be worn a while longer before they found their relief in the laundry barrel, but everything else dripped lazily in the last rays of the autumn sunshine. She dumped the murky water and hauled the barrel back to its spot on the west side of the cabin, and, setting the washboard to drip dry next to the door, she brought her still-dirty skirts back inside.
It was amazing what two months of hard work could do to change a place. When they had arrived in this spot, with its tiny cabin nestled in the crook of two converging streams, it could barely be recognized as a home for all the weeds. The door had creaked on its last remaining hinge, the roof had a hole the size of a badger, and a family of swallows had taken up residence in the rafters, not to mention the myriad of little creatures making their nests in the nooks and crannies. But Kate had taken up the challenge of making it a home again. While Ian and Pa had fixed the roof and all the other things that came from abandonment, Kate had cleaned and swept and scrubbed that little cabin to within an inch of its life until the floors were bright and the trestle table shone in the lamplight.
It was a lovely little home now, with a big river-rock fireplace and windows of real glass that Mrs. Avery had packed in straw and carted all the way from Independence. Kate loved gazing out those windows at the wild landscape that stretched to the eastern mountains. And while it was a far cry smaller than the house she’d grown up in, it was cozy and warm, and she was grateful that they were no longer stuffed in the wagon that had brought them west. Though, she had to admit, she sometimes missed the adventure of it all, never knowing what lay beyond the skyline.
But that dream had shattered on a rainy day at Snake River, and the pieces of it were ground into the dust when she had said goodbye to Jacob.
Sometimes the yearning for him would hit without warning, so sharp and strong she could barely stand it. How she longed to feel his arms around her! She clenched her jaw and set the basket on the table with enough force to rattle the candlesticks. There was enough to do without romanticizing the past.
Kate tsked at herself when she saw the fire. Only a few embers glowed faintly through the piles of white ash in the hearth. She tested the stew hanging above it with a finger. Barely warm. Hurriedly, she set about nursing the fire back to life, and when the blaze was finally big enough to survive unattended, she set to peeling potatoes. Once again, she sent up a prayer of thanks that Mrs. Avery had attempted a garden before pulling up stakes and leaving for Fort Laramie. Despite the tangle of weeds and the concerted effort of the grazing of local wildlife, it had miraculously produced potatoes, carrots, beets, herbs, and even three lustrous pumpkins! It would make such a difference for the coming winter.
The Lord had taken such good care of them. She made a mental note to bring some of their provisions over to Maria and James the next time she rode over there to help. Maria was near to bursting with child, and though the little homestead they had taken over on the opposite side of this secluded valley was smaller than theirs, Kate would saddle Sadie and ride over every couple of days to check on Maria and to give respite from the rigorous work required to prepare for winter.
Kate smiled to herself thinking of Maria’s exaggerated waddle, her stomach bulging underneath her skirts. It wouldn’t be long now. Kate had a bag of supplies packed and ready to go the moment James came to fetch them when the baby decided to come. She was nervous aboutattending the birth, but she had helped Ma plenty of times back home, and she knew more than James at least. The rest was in the Lord’s hands.
Seeing that the stew bubbled happily, Kate added the potatoes and turned to plant a kiss on the top of her mother’s head. Ma sat wrapped in a shawl and staring out the window, as she had every day since they’d slept their first night in their new home. She didn’t talk much, barely ate, and her hair had gone completely gray. The sickness had taken her strength, and the river had taken her will. Kate kneeled by her chair as she had also done every day, gazing with concern at the ever-increasing lines on her mother’s face.
“I got the laundry done today, Ma,” Kate said, the clang of forced cheerfulness ringing her ears.
Ma turned her shadowed eyes to hers. “Thank you, dearest.” She patted Kate’s hand. “You work so hard, Katherine. I should help, I know, but I”—she lifted a fluttering hand—“I just can’t seem to find the strength today. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll make some preserves. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Sure, Ma. That’d be real nice.” Kate smiled sadly and kissed her hollow cheek. She stood and picked up her laundry basket again, knowing that tomorrow her mother would be wrapped in the same shawl, sitting in the same chair, staring out the same window. But Kate would make the preserves anyway. The pumpkins really did need to be canned. She would do anything that might bring her mother out of the shadow world she sat in day after day.
Pulling the old, tattered quilt across the doorframe of her room, Kate dropped the basket on her straw-stuffed mattress and sat down next to it, her knees nearly touching the far wall. Though barely big enough to fit her trunk at the foot of her bed, she loved this tiny room. It was her own little oasis, a place where she could sit sequestered from the rest of the world and not think about anything. She could empty her mind anddrift in nothingness, at least for the few minutes a day she wasn’t working her hands to the bone.
Her eyes settled on the case of her fiddle resting on the shelf above the door. It had sat collecting dust since she had put it up there the first night she slept in this little room. The desire to play had faded from her just as surely as the warmth had faded from summer. She sighed. Winter was so close. She could smell its breath in the early morning hours before the sun rose to bring what little life there was left back into the earth.
The sound of horses drifted in through the little window, gently but steadily dissipating Kate’s reverie like smoke in a breeze. Kate looked out past the dried flowers hanging from the frame, their washed-out purple mirroring the state of her heart: once vibrant, now dull, a memory of what had once been full of life. Her eyes focused out into the yard. Ian, Pa, and Andrew were walking their weary mounts to the barn. She sighed and stood up. They would need some coffee when they got in.
By the time the men had washed up and hung their hats by the door, the coffee was brewed, and Kate busily set the table.
“Smells like home in here, Katie-bird,” Pa said, giving her a quick kiss on the temple as she set out the last plate.
“And you smell like you slept in the barn. You sure you washed?”
“Honest, sure, and I did!” he exclaimed. “You’re gettin’ to be quite the homemaker, lassie, orderin’ us about, keepin’ us alive and all that.” He gave her a knowing wink and started humming a jaunty tune.What on earth did that mean?she mused to herself, shaking her head. Something had put Pa in a jolly mood.
Ian grabbed the pot of coffee off the fire and started pouring, handing out cups. “He’s right though, Kate. We’d be starving and dirty and useless without you. You should get a raise,” he teased.
“I’d settle for an hour to put my feet up before I collapse from washin’ all your shirts,” she bantered good-naturedly.
“If you’re tired, you should go rest, Miss Kate,” Andrew said seriously.
Katesmiled at him ruefully. “And who would feed all you hulkin’ men? I’ll be fine, just need to eat somethin’.” She put a hand to her stomach. It growled. Had she eaten anything today? Seemed there weren’t enough hours in the day. She had lost a lot of weight in the past few months.
