Surrendered on the Frontier (4 page)

By noon, Ma and I were busily finishing up our preparations. Geraldine and Pearl were to the side, by the fire, Pearl knitting a pair of booties for Geraldine’s little Mary Jane. Geraldine sat with her baby, and I almost, for a brief minute, softened to the woman. I’d heard whispered stories about her having lost several babies before she’d given birth, and at least one—maybe more—she’d delivered and lost. I knew she had a handful of tiny, shallow graves she visited. It was the harsh reality we accepted, though I’d never lost a baby.

But at the moment, as I looked to Geraldine, with her perfectly smooth hair and immaculate complexion, her straight-as-an-arrow spine and haughty air, I was not feeling any sympathy. I was still fuming about her dismissal of the books I liked to read. I longed to see her firmly put in her place.

“How’s the chicken coming along, child?” Ma murmured next to me.

“Quite nicely,” I said. Ma had beans and cornbread ready for the men when they came for dinner, but the chicken and biscuits would serve us all that evening. I looked forward eagerly to the meal, and not just because I enjoyed chicken and craved the taste of meat again. I loved being surrounded by the whole extended Stanley family. Geraldine typically behaved herself better when Phillip was around.

“Be sure there are no bones, Ruth,” Geraldine said from the fire. Ma pursed her lips, but it was Pearl who spoke. Her eyes never left her hands, her knitting sitting atop her ample belly.

“No one cooks a finer chicken than Ruth, Geraldine,” she said. “If you got a bone, it was likely a message to you from above.”

Ma’s eyes twinkled but she kept her own counsel. I, on the other hand, could not keep my temper at bay any longer.

“If you don’t like how I cook, you can cook your own damn food. No one’s forcing you to eat what I make.” I heard Ma gasp beside me and Pearl’s eyes lifted from her knitting, widening. Geraldine scowled. She sat with her baby over her shoulder, patting her back as she dozed.

“No need for you to get your petticoats in a bunch,” Geraldine snapped.

“Girls,” Ma chided, as she made her way to the door. “You behave yourselves. I’m going to pick some daisies for our dinner table.” She loved flowers, and was always adorning the inside of her home with the wild violets, daisies, and even dandelions that scattered like pebbles by the lake across our wide, open prairie. I waited until she stepped out before I spoke.

“I’m behaving myself just fine,” I said, stirring the chicken so hard it splattered over the edge of the pot and hissed on the hot stove. “It’s this one over here with a mouth the size of a full moon that won’t stop.”

Geraldine stood. Handing her baby to Pearl, she marched over to me with her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing.

“How
dare
you call me names?” she hissed. Her eyes were bright and angry, her cheeks pink. She waved a finger in front of me as I turned and faced her. Granted, I had to look up to her, given that I was that much shorter, but what I lacked in stature I made up for in vim and vigor.

“How dare
you
criticize my cooking and tell me what to do?” I replied, my voice rising.

“Please!” Pearl begged from where she sat with the baby. Geraldine took her hands off her hips and stepped closer to me. Without thinking, I grabbed the cup of water I had next to the pot of chicken, as I’d splash a bit in if necessary, and tossed the whole cup right into her furious face.

She screamed. I felt a thrill of victory run through me. Pearl gasped. Geraldine’s hair was dripping wet, and she looked fit to be tied. Would she hurt me? I was ready. But we never did know, for it was at that moment the men came in from the fields.

I heard Phillip first. “Whoa! What’s goin’ on in here?” he asked, as he rushed to Geraldine, pulling her away from me and closer to where the table was.

“She threw a glass of water in my face!” Geraldine shrieked, a shaky finger waving at me.

“She deserved it!” I said angrily, turning, unrepentant, back to the stove. “Making fun of me. Started out calling me names and saying I was a heathen for reading books that were your
father’s
, which personally I think is a crying shame. Second, telling me I don’t know how to cook. She wouldn’t close her mouth, so I closed it—”

“Ruth.”

One word. Deep, laced with disapproval, I knew it well. I turned. Samuel stood in the doorway, and Aaron, the eldest of the Stanley brothers who looked remarkably like Samuel, not far behind him. I sighed. My conscience began to prick me. Ma wanted me to keep the peace, and I wasn’t welcome to cause discord. I didn’t want to. I loved this family.

Still, I was not obedient to Samuel and he wasn’t going to make me obey.

I quietly stirred the chicken. But he was not done.

“You put that spoon down. Pearl? Hand the baby to Geraldine, please, and you continue with the dinner. Ruth and I need to step outside for a few minutes.”

“I’m almost done,” I said. I didn’t like the idea of being corrected in front of a room full of people, and I wasn’t exactly sure what he would do with me when we were alone. But when the man put his mind to something, he would not be dissuaded.

“
Now
.”

I did not want to obey, but I also didn’t want to cause another scene. With a sigh, I handed the spoon to Pearl. She gave me a sympathetic look and a peck on the cheek, leaning in and whispering to me, “She had that coming. He’s a gentle sort, Ruth. You know that. Just take a breath of fresh air outside.”

I was trying to find a way to exit gracefully, but he had me by the elbow, marching in firm strides to the doorway. It angered me. I pulled my elbow out of his grasp and spun away. He was fast; one hand wrapped around my waist before I could get two steps away, his mouth by my ear. “You walk with me now, or I’ll carry you out. Your choice.”

I swallowed, facing him angrily. I pulled away and marched to the door. Now I wanted to get away from
all
of them. Aaron stepped aside so I could storm past him. I could see Ma approaching us now. Guilt pricked my conscience.

She didn’t like when I lost my temper. I was in her home. I’d been wrong.

Samuel stood by my side, still holding my elbow. As Ma approached us, she glanced at his hand on me.

“Don’t wait dinner for us, please,” Samuel said. Ma’s eyes grew concerned.

“Everything all right?” she asked.

“It will be.”

Her eyes went from his to mine before she nodded. “Right, then. See you soon.”

I was grateful that she kept her own counsel. After she left, Samuel walked with firm, deliberate steps to the barn. Now that we were alone, my mind teemed with questions. Why there? What would he do? My heart began to stutter in my chest, and I began to tremble. There was no escaping. I had misbehaved, and he was not going to tolerate it. But what would that entail? The memory of his stating I needed a spanking echoed in my mind.

When we got to the barn, he took me to a large, private area and released my elbow. I stepped away from him and glared. I didn’t like being hauled to the barn like a naughty child.

Samuel crossed his arms on his chest, his eyes stern and inflexible. His lips thinned, and his voice was curt. “Tell me what happened. If you run, I’ll catch you and you’ll wish I hadn’t.”

Continuing to glare silently, I crossed my arms and stared at him.

His voice softened a bit. “Ruth, I want to hear your side of the story.”

He was not judging. He was not criticizing. He’d given me space to talk, and wanted to understand what was going on.

I took a deep breath and tried. “Well, that good for nothing—”

“No. Tell me what
you
did and why.”

Though I knew my actions were childish, and I disliked having caused dissension, I was unrepentant. I
would
tell the story my way.

“Geraldine poked fun at me. She does it all the time, to both me and Pearl. Thinks she is better than us, and that she has the right to demean us. And I’ll not put up with it, Samuel. I
won’t
!”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. He was still wearing his wide-brimmed hat, which caused a slight shadow to darken his eyes. “Did I ask you what she did, little Ruth? Or did I ask you to tell me what
you
did?”

“It’s the same!” I said, throwing my hands up in anger.

He sighed. “All right, then. What happened
today
,
young lady?”

There it was again: young lady. Only for some reason, this time it made me feel a twinge of guilt. “I… she said I read heathen books. I referenced Saint Patrick making the snakes leave Ireland. It was in your
father’s
book I read, and she has no right—”

“Ruth.”

I sighed. “And then she had the nerve to tell me to be sure there were no chicken bones in our supper.”

He nodded. “Go on.”

I suddenly felt very small. “I… well. That was it.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “She said you read a heathen book, and asked you to be sure there were no bones in the chicken? And you thought that reason to toss water in her face? To provoke my brother’s wife?”

His tone of voice stoked my barely tempered fire and I stepped toward him, my chest heaving with anger. “Don’t you
dare
take her side!” I hissed.

Though he moved quickly, it seemed later that it was all in slow motion. The way his arms uncrossed and his large hand came to my jaw, grasping me firmly, tilting my face up to his. The way his eyes narrowed and heated. Grasping me gently but firmly, he made me look into his eyes.

“Woman, hold your tongue,” he whispered. I yanked my face away from him and shoved him back. In seconds, strong arms wrapped around my torso, and though I fought with all my strength, he was so much stronger than I, he could’ve bested me with one arm tied behind his back. He lifted me clear off the ground, and to my shock, fairly tossed me over his head, where I landed on a bed of soft hay. He’d put me straight into the loft.

It was a low-hanging loft, much lower than the typical ones in barns in our little town, and it served as a sort of storage place for Ma. She was small, like me, and could easily reach atop it without having to climb the taller ladder on the other side of the barn. So there I sat, tumbled in the hay, Samuel just below. His hands grasped the edge.

“Little Ruth, I’ve already explained that if your past was different, I’d have taken you across my knee long ago. But woman, does my palm ever itch to tan your backside.”

I scrambled to the edge of the loft, but his voice made me freeze. “You’ve been warned, young lady. You get down from that loft before I give you leave, and past be damned, I’ll toss you over my lap, lift your skirts, and spank you until you beg me for mercy. Understand?”

I paused. I was angry at my inability to control the situation, yet still attracted to his strength. Not knowing what else to do, I crossed my arms angrily. I wanted to fight him. I wanted to push him. I didn’t like the torrent of emotions within me. My skin felt like it was on fire, prickles of nerves making me feel near desperate. And as I sat in the loft, feeling sorry for myself and ashamed of my behavior, I realized something else.

I wanted him to spank me.

I wanted to feel helpless. I wanted
him
to take control. I needed to know he cared enough about me that he wouldn’t allow me to act like a child. I yearned for his touch on my naked skin.

But wild horses wouldn’t drag the truth from me.

I was furious with my choices. Cow to his demands and stay put in the loft, or go down and get a spanking. Though part of me wanted the spanking, I felt getting down from the loft would give him the upper hand; if not when I got first down, for certain when I was sprawled over his lap. I didn’t want to submit.

So I sat down on the hay. He pulled a stout milking stool from another stall, plunked it in front of the wall, and sat down across from me. His eyes never left mine. I heaved with fury, but refused to get down, which made me even angrier because he was winning the battle of wills.

“It’s not fair,” I spat out, my voice high and tight with anger.

His voice was even and low when he spoke. “What’s not fair?”

“You all let her get away with being a mean, spiteful witch.” I felt tears prick the back of my eyes and my throat felt tight. I hated when people were mean.

“Not sure what you mean by ‘get away with it,’” he said. “I don’t allow her to backtalk to me, and Aaron stands up to her if she’s rude to Pearl. But there ain’t much more in our control. If she were mine, it’d be a different story, but I’ll not tell my brother how to run his household.”

I flopped belly down on the hay and placed my chin in my hands. He had a point. But what he said saddened me, and I wasn’t sure why. I thought over what he’d said for a minute.

Samuel didn’t allow her to be rude to him.

Aaron defended Pearl.

Who would defend
me
?
It wasn’t fair. The hurt I felt deflated my anger, and I no longer wished to speak of it. I sighed and put my head on my arms, closing my eyes. I didn’t want him to see me cry. After a few moments, Samuel spoke, and his voice had softened.

“Ruth?”

I opened my eyes. “Yes?” I asked.

“What’s on your mind?”

I decided there was no harm in telling him the truth. “You said Aaron defends Pearl. Well, that’s wonderful,
if you’re Pearl.
But if you’re me? With no one to defend you? And you defend
yourself
?
You get tossed into a loft and threatened with spanking.” My voice caught. I would not let him see me cry. I would
not
!

I turned from him, then, and faced the other end of the loft. I suddenly felt very, very tired. I placed my head on my arms and closed my eyes. I felt the heaviness begin to settle on my chest, the weight I felt most days, squeezing my heart and making my head feel stuffy. I rarely cried. I simply carried on, doing what I had to do, bearing my yoke without complaint. My burden was heavy. And if no one would help me lift it, I would carry it myself.

I heard his steady breathing, and the comforting sounds of the animals in the barn, the shifting hooves of the horses, and the soft nuzzles and chewing sounds on the other side of the wall. The hay smelled sweet and the barn was warm. My eyes as heavy as the rest of me, I fell asleep.