Their Frontier Family

He let out a rush of air and raked his hands through his hair. “All right. Just remember I don’t want people here all the time.”

She wanted to argue, but sensed much more was going on here than was being said. “I will keep your wish in mind,” she said, scanning his face for clues as to what was happening inside him.

He stood, staring at her for a moment as if seeing her for the first time. “I’m going to clean up at the creek.” He grabbed a towel from the clothesline she’d strung earlier in the day and stomped off.

Sunny slumped against the wagon, calming herself, consciously shedding the fear and anger. He didn’t want people around him. Maybe he didn’t want her around him? Maybe he’d only brought her here to cook and clean. That would explain why he showed no interest in getting closer to her.

The thought made her angry all over again.

Climbing into the wagon, she checked on Dawn who slept peacefully in her little hammock. She’d be safe here. Sunny climbed down, grabbed another towel from the line and headed toward the creek, too. The unusual high temperature and humidity combined with the argument had left her ruffled and heated. Earlier she’d noticed a bend in the creek that was shielded by bushes where she could discreetly cool off.

Noah already splashed in the wide part of the creek, deep with spring runoff. In the long shadows she skirted around, barely glancing toward him. Within the shelter of the bushes, she slipped off her shoes and tiptoed over the pebbles into the cool water. She shivered, but in a good way. Soon ankle-deep, she was bending and splashing water up onto her face and neck, washing away the grime and stickiness.

The cool water soothed her, the sound of its rippling over the rocks calmed her nerves like a balm. She sighed as the last of her indignation drifted away on the current. She waded out onto the mossy bank and dried off.

At the sound of her name she turned and found Noah walking toward her. Night had come; moonlight glimmered around them. She braced herself, waiting for him to reach her. Had he come to start the argument anew?

He paused a foot from her. “I’m sorry, Sunny.” The soft words spoke volumes of anguish.

She gazed at him, uncertain. Their disagreement had been over nothing—or everything—and she sensed that Noah was struggling just like she was. She recalled his words on their wedding night, when he’d asked which was worse, lying with strangers or killing them.

Amid the incessant frogs croaking around them, he whispered, “Sunny, I just need space, peace.”

His voice opened the lock to her heart and freed her. “Noah,” she murmured.

“But I want you to be happy here, too,” he added.

His tenderness touched her, but she didn’t know how to respond. They were still strangers.

In the silent darkness he helped her gather her shawl around her shoulders and then they walked to the wagon. Sunny tried to figure out what had happened this evening, what bedeviled her husband, and how she could bring him peace. She had no answers.

At the wagon she hoped he would follow her inside so she could comfort him. But, as usual, he let her go in and then he wished her good-night from the foot of the cramped wagon bed.

Sunny lay very still, wondering if Noah would have another nightmare tonight, and if he’d ever reveal what the dreams were about. She had a feeling his nightmares and his reluctance to be around people were connected.

And she was determined to find out how. She just needed to be patient. But patience had never been one of her talents. Someday they would have to talk matters out. Maybe when Noah’s nightmares ceased?

Chapter Four

The next morning Sunny had a hard time speaking to Noah. Or looking at him for that matter. She stooped over the flickering flames of the cook fire. A stiff breeze played with the hem of her skirt. To keep safe as she was frying salted pork with one hand, she held her skirt with the other. She didn’t know what was causing the awkwardness she felt with Noah.

In the pan the pork sizzled and snapped like the words she’d spoken to him last night. Was it the fact that she’d spoken up to him for the first time? Or had the awkward feeling come because he’d shown such tenderness to her when he’d escorted her into the wagon? Tenderness from a man was not something she was used to.

Yet today Noah remained silent as usual. And this morning that grated on her more than it did normally. How was she supposed to act when the neighboring men came today to help?

She remembered her resolution to get to the bottom of Noah’s reluctance and she decided to speak up again.

“I expect our neighbors will be coming to help soon,” she murmured.

Noah nodded. “Probably.” He took another sip of the coffee, steaming in the cool morning air.

Sunny glanced down. Lying on her back on a blanket, Dawn waved her arms and legs and cooed. As always, her daughter brought a smile to Sunny’s face.

“She’s having a good time,” Noah commented.

Sudden joy flashed through Sunny, catching her by surprise. This was not the first time he’d taken notice of Dawn and said something positive, but it still caught her off guard. Taking this as a hopeful sign for the future, Sunny managed to nod. She finished the pork and quickly stirred in what was left of last night’s grits. She deftly swirled the pan till the concoction firmed. “Breakfast is ready.”

She lifted the frying pan off the trivet and served up their plates. Searching for more topics to discuss, she said, “I hope we can get some chickens. I will need eggs.”

“We will. It won’t be much longer that we’ll be living like tramps,” Noah said, sounding apologetic. “Before you know it, we’ll be in our cabin.”

“I know we will,” she said quickly. “You’re working so hard. I wish I could help more.”

“You do enough,” he said gruffly. “After the cabin’s up, I’ll make us a nice table and some sturdy benches.”

“You know how to make furniture?” Sunny bit into the crisp pork, trying to ignore the way his dark hair framed his drawn face. She wished she could wipe away the sleepless smudges under his eyes.

“Yes, I had an uncle who was a cabinetmaker. He taught me one summer.”

“You know so much. And I can barely cook.”

“You do fine.”

Her heart fluttered at the praise. She clung to their discussion to keep her feelings concealed. “Mrs. Gabriel taught me what I know. But I wish I’d had time to learn more.”

“You do well,” he said, looking at her, his dark eyes lingering on her face.

Impulsively she touched his arm. “Thanks.”

His invisible shutters closed against her once more. Her action had pushed him deeper into reserve. She concentrated on eating her own breakfast and not showing that she felt his withdrawal, his rejection.

She passed the back of her hand over her forehead, sighing. Be patient, she reminded herself. Maybe he just needs more time.

“Hello, the wagon!” Their neighbor Charles Fitzhugh’s cheerful voice hailed them.

“Good morning!” Sunny called, checking to see how her husband was taking the arrival of the two men. However, when she glanced toward the men, she froze. A petite, dark-haired woman and two little girls accompanied them. Her breath caught in her throat.

Noah rose and with his free hand gripped first Charles’s and then Martin’s hand. “Morning. Just about done with breakfast.”

“Mrs. Whitmore, this is my wife, Caroline, and our daughters, Mary and Laura,” Charles Fitzhugh said.

Sunny bobbed a polite curtsy, her heart sinking. Her hand went to her hair, which she hadn’t dressed yet. Fear of saying something she shouldn’t tightened her throat. What if she said something a decent woman wouldn’t ever say? Would they know instantly what she was? What she’d been?

“Don’t mind me,” Caroline Fitzhugh said. “I just came for a short visit and then I’ll be going home. I knew it was early to be calling but I just felt like I needed a woman chat this morning.”

Sunny nodded. She quickly smoothed back and twisted her hair into a knot at the base of her neck and shoved pins in to keep her bun secure. A woman chat, oh, yes—she’d longed for one, too. But after weeks of loneliness she must guard her overeager tongue, not let anything that might hint at her past slip out.

I can do this. I just need a touch of help, Lord.

Soon Sunny was washing dishes in the spring with Mrs. Fitzhugh down creek from her. Nearby, Caroline’s little girls played in the shallows. Mrs. Fitzhugh held Dawn and dipped her toes into the water to Dawn’s squeals of delight. Sunny’s heart warmed toward this woman, obviously a good mother. But that sharpened the danger that she would let her guard down and give herself away.

Soon the two women were back at the campfire, sitting on a log and watching the children play with some blocks Mrs. Fitzhugh had brought in a cotton sack. Happy to gnaw on one block, Dawn watched the two toddlers pile the rest on the uneven ground. She squealed as she watched the blocks topple.

“You and Mr. Whitmore been married long?” the neighbor asked, accepting a fresh cup of coffee.

“Not too long,” Sunny hedged vaguely. The sound of the men’s voices and the chopping as they worked on yet another tree suddenly vanished as her heart pounded loudly.

Mrs. Fitzhugh smiled. “I just meant you look almost like newlyweds. It’ll take a few more years to look like you’ve been married forever.”

Sunny didn’t know what to say to this. Was the woman suggesting that she and Noah hadn’t been married long enough to already have a child?

“Where you from?” Mrs. Fitzhugh asked politely.

The woman’s voice remained honest, not accusing or insinuating. Sunny managed to take a breath. “Pennsylvania. My husband came here earlier this year to find us a homestead while I stayed back with my family.” That was true—the Gabriels had told her to consider them her family.

“I’m from eastern Wisconsin. Met Charles there.”

Sunny knew that the woman wasn’t asking her anything out of the way, but each question tightened a belt around her lungs. She looked toward the men and saw Noah send a momentary glance her way, his expression brooding.

“I’m...we’re very grateful for your offer of help.”

Mrs. Fitzhugh waved her hand, dismissing Sunny’s thanks. “It’s too early to plant and Charles isn’t sure he will put in a crop this year. Kansas is calling him.”

“Kansas?” Sunny gazed at the woman with genuine dismay. All the way to Kansas? Sunny thought of all the miles she’d traveled from Idaho to Pennsylvania and then here. “I’m not much of a traveler,” she admitted.

Before Mrs. Fitzhugh could reply, another voice hailed, “Hello, the house!”

“Nancy! Is that you?” Mrs. Fitzhugh called out with obvious pleasure.

Soon another woman sauntered into the clearing—a big blonde woman obviously expecting a child, with a toddler beside her. While Caroline Fitzhugh dressed as neat as could be, this woman appeared disheveled but jolly.

“I was coming over to visit you, Caroline. And then I heard the axes and once in a while, on the breeze, a word that sounded feminine. I hope you don’t mind me stoppin’ in.” She looked to Sunny.

“No. No. You’re very welcome,” Sunny rushed to assure the newcomer though she wasn’t sure she meant it. “Please join us.” She waved the woman to one of the large rocks around the campfire and quickly offered her coffee.

Two women to talk to—a blessing and a trial.

“I’m Nan Osbourne. My man and me live over yonder.” She waved southward. “Glad to see another family come to settle.”

“Mrs. Whitmore and her husband are nearly newlyweds,” Mrs. Fitzhugh said.

“Well, none of us are much more than that.” Mrs. Osbourne gave a broad wink. “You got any family hereabouts, Miz Whitmore?”

“No. No. I have no family...near,” she corrected quickly. She’d just told Caroline that she had stayed with her family. “And Noah’s family is all in Pennsylvania...too.” Picking her words with such care quickened her pulse.

“That’s hard, leaving family,” Mrs. Osbourne said, looking mournful. “I cried and cried to leave my ma.”

“My mother has already passed,” Sunny said, her words prompting a sudden unexpected twinge of grief. Or was it recalling she was all alone in the world? Why would she mourn Mother’s death now, almost seven years after it? Was it because so much was changing? I’m not alone now. I’ve got Dawn and Noah. Gratitude rushed through her. Could this be proof that God was forgiving her? There was so much she didn’t understand about God and sin.

“I got news.” Nan Osbourne grinned. “We got a preacher in town now.”

“Really?” Caroline Fitzhugh brightened with excitement.

Sunny tried to keep her face from falling. A preacher? In the past more than one had shouted Bible verses at her, calling her a harlot and predicting her damnation. The fires of hell licked around her again. She touched Dawn, her treasure, smoothing back her baby fine hair, and the action calmed her.

“The preacher’s goin’ to preach this Sunday right in town. He says around ten o’clock,” Nan announced.

“That’s wonderful. I’ve been missing church.” Caroline sighed.

Sunny tried to appear happy as her peace caved in.

“I think it’s wonderful that he’s goin’ to preach out in the open like a camp meetin’. Then even them who don’t want to hear the gospel will.”

Sunny posed with a stiff, polite smile on her face. Was the woman talking about the people who’d be just waking upstairs at the saloon? Of course she was. Once more Sunny wished so much that she could help another woman get free of that life.

But I can’t. I’ve got to make this new start work for Dawn.

“You’ll be comin’, won’t you, Miz Whitmore? You and your man?” Nan asked.

Crosscurrents slashed through Sunny. I want to go. I want You to know, God, how thankful I am for this second chance. But would the preacher see right through her? Would Noah want to go? Let her go?

A thought came. Should she mention that Noah had been raised Quaker? He’d almost stopped using “thee.” Did that mean he didn’t want to be considered a Quaker anymore?

Both women were gazing at her expectantly.

Sunny breathed in deeply. “I’ll discuss it with him. I know I want to attend. Do you know what kind of preacher he is?”

“I didn’t ask,” Nan said. “Out here on the frontier, preachers are so rare we can’t be choosy about them. He struck me as a good man.”

Sunny nodded, hoping she hadn’t asked the wrong thing. “I’ll speak to Noah. But unless he forbids me, I’ll be there.”

Both women looked startled at this announcement.

Sunny cringed. She’d said the wrong thing, hinting that Noah might not be a Christian. And she couldn’t let that simmer and turn into gossip. She leaned forward to give some explanation. “Noah was raised Quaker. I wasn’t. So I don’t know if he’ll...” Words failed her.

Caroline patted her hand. “I understand.”

“Quakers were against slavery,” Nan said stoutly. “They did a lot of good with helpin’ slaves get free.”

Sunny gave a fleeting smile, tension bubbling inside.

“Nan and I will pray that you get to come to the meeting,” Caroline said in a low voice. Nan nodded vigorously. And Sunny knew she’d made progress on making friends this morning. Her mood lifted—for a moment.

What would Noah say about going to the Sunday meeting? And her telling these friendly strangers that he’d been raised Quaker?

* * *

In the last rays of twilight Noah sat by the fire, his stomach comfortably full. Sunny didn’t know how to cook many things but what she did cook tasted good. Exhausted from felling trees all day, Noah realized he’d discovered a few muscles he hadn’t known about—and they were not happy with him.

He held a narrow block of wood in his hand, whittling it into a new handle for a small ax. During this quiet time Sunny was acting funny—opening her mouth as if to speak, then closing it, and worrying her thumb by picking at it and hiding her hand behind her skirt. Why, he didn’t know. Or want to ask. Last night had been enough honesty.

“How many more logs do we need for a cabin?” his wife asked.

She sat by the fire nursing Dawn who seemed fussier than usual. The firelight highlighted the gold in Sunny’s hair. Once again, he realized he had married a pretty woman. Everything about her was so soft and this world was so hard. He wondered what it might be like to hold her.

“Noah?” she prompted.

“Sorry. My mind was wandering.” He shut his mind to a surprising image of holding Sunny close, a daunting thought. He shaved some more from the wood. “Another day and we should have enough for a cabin. Then Charles and Martin will help me lift the logs into place.”

“I’m so grateful to them.”

His hands were beginning to tremble with fatigue as he whittled. “Who was that other woman who stopped by?”

“Nan Osbourne. She and her husband live nearby. She seems very nice. From her accent, I’d say she was from south of here.”

Noah nodded. Sunny’s continued pensiveness piqued his curiosity. In spite of himself, he asked, “What did she have to say?”

Sunny startled as if caught doing something she shouldn’t. “We just talked about recipes and they told me about the people who live hereabouts.”

Noah examined the handle he was crafting, running his thumb over it. Sunny was definitely holding something back. But he was too tired to risk asking for more. He didn’t have the energy to be irritated by hearing something he might not like. So he hesitated.Sunny also had a way of stirring him. She was now.But he couldn’t act on this. He found it impossible to make a move.

The bottomless well of sorrow and dark things roiled up within. Sunny made him long to feel normal again. But he’d seen too much, done too much that was unforgivable. Repressing this, he rose while he still could stand. “I’m going to go to bed now. I’m worn out.”

“I’ll bank the fire. You go ahead, Noah. I should have seen how tired you were.” She rose and briefly touched his arm. “Go on.”

Her innocent touch made him ache with loneliness. He moved away, obeying her. Noah shucked off his boots and then hoisted himself onto the hard wagon bed and rolled into his blankets. His last thought as he fell asleep was that Sunny deserved better than him.

* * *

A few days later Sunny stepped inside their new cabin. She hadn’t anticipated how it would make her feel. This is my home, our home. She’d never lived in a real house, never dreamed she would. She wanted to hug the walls and do a jig on the half-log floor that Noah had insisted on laying. A dirt floor might be all right in the summer but not in the winter, he’d said. Dawn whimpered in her arms and struggled to be put down. Sunny bent and set her on the floor.

“I’m glad this is done,” Noah said from behind her.

She turned around and nearly hugged him, but his expression held her off. “Me, too. It’s a wonderful home.” During this bright moment the way Noah always held himself apart chafed her. Would it always be this way?

“Hello, the house!” Caroline Fitzhugh called out. “We came to see your new home.”

Whisking Dawn up into her arms, Sunny stepped outside to see that Caroline and her family and the Osbournes had come to celebrate. Charles Fitzhugh carried a fiddle and the women each carried a covered dish.

“Oh, I have nothing prepared!” Sunny exclaimed.

“We’re makin’ this party!” Nan called out cheerfully. “We won’t stay long, just wanted to see your fine new cabin and congratulate you.”

Sunny said all that was proper but when she turned to Noah, it was as if he’d slammed all the shutters and locked the door against their company. She gave him an understanding smile but he stood like a tree, not responding by even a flicker of an eyelid. She went up on tiptoe and acted as though she were kissing his cheek in order to whisper, “They won’t stay long. Don’t spoil their happiness.”

He glanced down at her, stony-eyed. Dawn began to cry and Sunny jiggled her in her arms.

Then he gave Sunny a tight-lipped nod. “Welcome to our new home.” Sunny sighed silently with relief. “Come right in.”

Nan had brought her husband, a tall lanky man with curly blond hair. He, along with the other guests, admired the large cabin with its roomy loft and lean-to for the animals.

Sunny was a bit embarrassed because Dawn continued to fuss. She tried to distract their company by talking about future plans. “Noah is going to dig me a root cellar. And build a spring house,” Sunny said, caught up in the flush of showing her new home. She tried to check herself, knowing that Noah was scrutinizing, gauging each word.

“You’re going to have a right nice place here all right,” Nan said. “You must be plannin’ to stay here.”

“I plan to stay longer than five years to get title to the land,” Noah said. “I traveled all over northern Illinois, eastern Iowa and southern Minnesota. I decided this land was the best I’d seen.”

His loquaciousness shocked Sunny. Maybe Noah was feeling a bit of pride and happiness. Remaining cautious, she kept her mouth shut and let Noah do the talking.

“Well, you haven’t tried to plow yet,” Mr. Osbourne said wryly. “You’ll find that Wisconsin’s best crop is rocks.”

“As long as they don’t sprout and grow new ones, I’ll do fine,” Noah responded.

His voice was pleasant enough but Sunny sensed his disdain for a man put off by rocks. Dawn chewed on her hand and whimpered.

Mr. Fitzhugh drew his bow over his fiddle. “I’ll play one song and then we all got to get back to our own work.”

“And we’ll help carry stuff from your wagon to your door,” Nan said. “That’ll lighten your load.”

Before Sunny could speak, Mr. Fitzhugh began to play a merry tune, the kind that beckoned clapping. Sunny hadn’t heard music for so long. She had loved to dance in the saloon—it was the only fun she’d ever had there—and she was a good dancer. But Quakers didn’t dance.

Dawn again wriggled to be put down. Sunny obliged and then tapped her toe to the cadence and couldn’t stop her smile from widening.

Dawn stared at the violin, distracted from her fussing. Noah bent down and swung her up into his arms and Sunny’s heart skipped a beat. Noah held Dawn by her waist and swung her gently back and forth to the tune. Dawn squealed with laughter. Then Sunny reached over and showed Dawn how to clap her hands. The three of them together, like a happy family. It was like a moment sent from Heaven.

But of course the song ended. Everyone clapped for Charles’s fiddling, shook hands and the two couples started to leave. Just as Sunny was relaxing her guard, Nan turned and asked, “Have you and the mister decided whether you’re comin’ to meetin’ this Sunday?”

Sunny’s breath caught in her throat. “I’ve been meaning to discuss that with Noah,” she managed to say.

“Meeting?” Noah looked askance.

“Yes, we got a preacher, a real nice old one who’s come to live with his son’s family in his declining years,” Nan explained. “He’s preachin’ at ten o’clock in front of the general store.”

“Can we pick you up in our wagon?” Mr. Fitzhugh invited. “We’ll be passing right by your place. Even though I’m thinking we’ll be heading to Kansas soon, I wouldn’t want to miss preaching.”

Sunny waited to see what her husband would say. She didn’t meet his eye—she couldn’t.

“I’ll think on it,” Noah said at last.

The other two couples tried to hide their surprise at Noah’s less than enthusiastic response.

“I don’t think he’ll be preachin’ anything that would go against you being a Quaker,” Nan said.

Sunny’s face burned. She knew she’d done the wrong thing by not telling Noah what she’d done.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Noah said, his jaw hardening.

I’m in for it now. Sunny stood at her husband’s side and felt waves of sick worry wash over her. Dawn began fussing again, chewing one of her little fists. Sunny knew Noah wouldn’t raise a hand to her but he could freeze her with a glance. Oh, Lord, help me reach him. Help me make him understand why I told them that he’d been raised Quaker. Lord, I want to do what is right. Help me explain this to him.