Prairie Fire (31 page)

Caitrin clenched her jaw, willing herself not to erupt.
Please,
God give me the strength, the patience, the courage …

“Out!” she shouted, her faith utterly failing her. “Get out of my soddy, Jimmy O’Toole, and don’t come back until you’ve had the good grace to apologize.”

“When hell freezes over,” he snarled. “Until then, I’ll leave you to look after my wife as a good sister should. ’Tis high time you chose whose family you belong to—us or the Cornwalls. And if you decide to join the dregs, Caitrin Murphy, that’s exactly what you’ll be.”

Hair flaming red in the lamplight, Jimmy turned and stomped out of the soddy. He slammed the door behind him. One of the leather hinges snapped loose from the frame. The door swayed, tipped, and crashed to the ground in a pile of loose boards.

“I want to go home,” Sheena said in a wavering voice.

Caitrin swung around to find her sister pulling her blanket up around her shoulders and standing to leave. “Wait,” Caitrin said, holding out a hand. “Please don’t mind Jimmy. He’s worried about you, and he’s hot about the Cornish. I’ve been praying for God to soften his heart, and praying that I can rein my tongue. But so far, I fear we’ve both a bit more surrendering to do.”

A tear trickled from one of Sheena’s green eyes. “Jimmy frightened me tonight, Caitie. I’ve never seen him so angry. Sure, he wasn’t himself.”

“Nay.” Caitrin strode across the room and grasped her sister’s hands. “Oh, Sheena, I never meant such trouble to come to Hope.

My heart is bursting in two. How can I choose between my dear family and the man I love? You and Jimmy are all I have, so you are. I’ll love you always. But Jack Cornwall … dear Sheena, he’s a man like none other I’ve known.”

“My poor Caitie.” Sheena rubbed a hand under her damp eyes. “I … I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stay with me this night. Sure, you’ve had a rough time of it, and you can use the rest. We’ll hang a blanket over the door.”

“Jimmy’s furious with me, Caitie! After the fighting settled, I told him he was wrong to speak out against the Cornish at the town prayer meeting. I shouldn’t have gone against him. I should have … should have honored my husband.” Sheena bent over, sobbing. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t go on like this!”

“There now,” Caitrin said softly, placing an arm around the woman’s heaving shoulders. “A good cry is just the thing. I’m ready to join you myself, so I am. Never have I known such flames of hatred and fear and confusion in my life.”

“Oh, Caitie, don’t let’s sit here and weep. Put the kettle on and make us a pot of tea.”

Caitrin sniffled. “Aye, warm milk and a sugar will turn it that lovely caramel color and settle our nerves. As our dear mother used to say, there’s nothing like a cup of hot tea for comfort.”

Trembling, she headed for the fire. She had prepared the kettle earlier, hoping the two couples would take a moment after the prayer meeting to sit together and visit. How wonderful everything had seemed then. She had held great hopes that Seth and Jack would speak comfortably with each other, and then perhaps they could grow as true friends.

Was Jack all right? What if the bullet in his leg had done some terrible damage? Caitrin hung the kettle on the hook and stirred the fire. She couldn’t leave Sheena alone to go and check on Jack. What if her sister’s cramping started up again? But how could Caitrin bear to spend the night not knowing how Jack was? She ached to be near him, to hold and comfort him. And then there was Lucy …

The girl herself ran through the open doorway and into Caitrin’s soddy. “I can’t … I’m … I …”

“Lucy!” Felicity Cornwall was right behind her. “You’ll be the death of me, girl!”

Caitrin gaped at the young woman. Lucy’s flesh was raw and bleeding, and her hair hung in shaggy clumps. Coming to her senses, Caitrin grabbed a quilt from the bed and threw it over Lucy’s shoulders. The girl shuddered and collapsed in a heap.

“Lucy!” Caitrin crouched beside her. “Lucy, ’tis Caitrin Murphy here. I’m going to hold you now. You’ll be all right.”

As she pulled the shivering woman into her arms, Felicity stood panting. “She was scrubbing herself with sandpaper, like I said,” she told Caitrin between breaths, “and then she jumped up and ran off. I’ve been chasing her across the prairie for I don’t know how long. She’s right out of her head tonight. I never saw the poor child so bad!”

At that, Felicity sank down onto a stool and burst into tears.

“Now just calm down, Mrs. Cornwall.” Caitrin tucked Lucy into the cradle of her lap, praying that God would settle the raving madness inside the young woman. “Lucy’s going to be all right. She can stay here with me tonight. Sheena and I are just ready to have tea, and we’ll welcome Lucy to join us.”

Felicity glanced over at the chair where the Irishwoman sat. “Mrs. O’Toole,” she said, and then she sobbed helplessly for a moment. “I’m so sorry! So … so sorry. I didn’t mean to harm you that day, and … and your baby …”

“Nay, Mrs. Cornwall,” Sheena whispered, blotting her own eyes. “’Twas I who came at you …”

“I struck you.”

“I called you such vile things.”

“Oh, whatever shall we do?”

“Mrs. Cornwall,” Caitrin said, “I want you to go over to the mercantile and check on Jack. Please see that he’s all right, and then come back and give me the news. If he needs me, I’ll go to him at once. After that, you must make your way back to your camp and try to rest.”

“Yes,” Felicity said, dabbing a handkerchief on her cheeks. “I’ll do that very thing.”

As the older woman left, Caitrin held Lucy tightly and began to rock her. In a moment Sheena joined them on the floor. The three women slipped their arms around each other, and Caitrin thought of the despair and hopelessness that threatened. What hope of peace did any of them have?

And then she remembered. “The Lord is my rock and my salvation,” she whispered. “Whom then shall I fear?”

Caitrin woke well past dawn the next morning. The blanket she had hung over the front door had fallen down in the night. Sunlight lit a golden rectangle on the bare earthen floor. Lucy lay nestled against Caitrin’s left side, her sleep troubled and restless. Sheena slept soundly on the right. Caitrin stared up at the rough plank ceiling topped by blocks of heavy sod and thought of the time she had thrown a plate against the wall in frustration. As she recalled it, she’d been angry about grass roots burrowing into the house.

She hadn’t known what trouble was.

Dear God, please protect Jack,
she lifted up in silence. Felicity Cornwall had returned under cover of night to report that Seth had cut out the bullet, the wound looked clean, and her son was resting. Caitrin tried to feel relieved.
Father, what am I to do about
that man? Why did you bring him into my life? I can’t deny the stirrings
of my heart for him. Jack is … he’s so … what? He’s interesting.
He’s dreadfully handsome. He’s kind to children and to poor Lucy. He’s
intelligent. He’s determined and hardworking. He loves you, Father,
the best he can. But, Lord, he isn’t altogether tame.

She looked at Lucy lying beside her. Lucy wasn’t tame, but God loved her all the same. She was his child. And Sheena? Caitrin turned her head to study her dear sister. Certainly she wasn’t perfect, yet it appeared she was willing to leave past troubles with the Cornwalls behind.

Caitrin’s thoughts again turned to the shattered plate. She herself was far from docile. She had a fiery temper. She argued vehemently. She stood up against her brother-in-law. Jack once had referred to her as stubborn and mouthy. Imperfect. Yet, God loved her, accepted her, gave his life for her. And his Spirit willingly lived in her heart.

Sheena’s always scolding me, Father, about wanting to change the
world. I do expect the best of everyone, including myself. But you loved
us in the midst of our failures, didn’t you? You loved us in spite of our
sin. Is it all right with you if I love Jack Cornwall? He’s not everything
he could be or everything he will be in time. But, dear Father, may I
have your permission to love the man?

Caitrin closed her eyes and hugged the two broken women beside her more tightly. “Beloved, let us love one another,” the apostle John had written, “for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.”

Though the sunshine crept across the soddy floor, Caitrin slept again, wrapped in an exhausted peace.

Dark clouds and an unexpected heat rolled across the prairie from the west. The promise of rain lifted Caitrin’s heart as she hurried down the path worn in the creek bank. In spite of the town meeting’s few prayers and violent battle, it appeared God had heard the people’s plea and was sending water for their crops.

After feeding her two guests a late breakfast, changing the bandage on Sheena’s forehead, and finding a complete set of clothing for Lucy, she convinced the younger woman to bathe.

Never had Caitrin seen such a horrific sight as the self-inflicted scrapes and scratches that covered Lucy’s pale skin. Sheena had gasped aloud, but she quickly took up a soft cloth and assisted Caitrin in the process.

When they finally had Lucy clean, dry, and dressed again, Sheena volunteered to brush out the tangled, matted hair. Though Caitrin’s heart quaked at the trouble that might befall her two charges, she used the opportunity to leave them alone for a few minutes.

“Mrs. Cornwall?” she called outside one of the canvas tents.

“Mrs. Cornwall, ’tis Caitrin Murphy, so it is.”

Lightning flickered on the horizon. Within two hours, the rain should arrive. And it was about time. The long, dry prairie grass fairly stretched toward the heavens in a plea for water. Birds flocked around the wells hoping for a spare droplet spilled from a bucket. A child could ford Bluestem Creek without wetting his knees. The farmers would be thanking God at this very moment.

“Mrs. Cornwall?” she called again. “I’ve come to look in on Jack.”

“Please go home, Miss Murphy.” Felicity’s voice grated like gravel. “I’ll thank you to bring my daughter to me at once. After I’ve taken the horse and wagon to the smithy to load up Jack’s tools, we’ll be away by dusk.”

Caitrin clasped her hands tightly. If Jack were too weak to resist, his mother could actually follow through on her plan. She might never lay eyes on him again.

“Please, Mrs. Cornwall, I’ve just come to see about your son. Is he all right?”

She listened to the silence from the tent. Finally she heard a groan. “Who’s out there, Mama?”

“Jack!” Caitrin called. “’Tis I, Caitrin Murphy. Are you all right?”

“Come inside, Caitrin.”

Fearing to incur Felicity’s wrath after the previous night’s fragile peace, Caitrin hesitated a moment. But her need to be with Jack overcame her concerns. Pushing aside the flap that blocked the entrance, she stepped into the shadowy tent. Felicity sat on a low stool near a pallet on the floor. She looked up from her knitting, her eyes swollen with crying.

Caitrin knelt beside the pallet and took Jack’s hand. “Your mother told me the wound was clean. You’ll be all right, won’t you?”

“I reckon so.” He reached up and touched a curly tendril of her hair. “You okay?”

“Aye. But worried.”

“Listen, Caitrin.” He winced as he elbowed himself upward. “About last night. I’m sorry for losing my head. I couldn’t take Jimmy mean-mouthing my family, and I just—”

“Jack, you acted out of a right heart.”

“A right heart maybe, but a reckless brain. Fact is, I didn’t think. I just jumped up there and went after the fellow.”

“And got a bullet for it,” Felicity said. “That’s the second time somebody in this wicked place has wounded my son.”

“Now, listen here, Mama—”

“We’re leaving, Jack, and don’t argue with your mother. As soon as Miss Murphy brings Lucy to us, I’m going to load the wagons, and we’ll be off. And none too soon.”

Jack gazed at Caitrin. She could all but read the question in his eyes:
Do you want me to stay in Hope, Caitrin? Do you want me to
stay?

“Mrs. Cornwall,” a man’s voice called from outside the tent. “This is Seth Hunter. How’s Jack?”