“Would you like some tea?” Ellen asked.
“That sounds wonderful.” She was glad for the interruption of her thoughts. She followed Ellen to the kitchen table and sat down while her friend put the kettle on to boil. She leaned her chin into her hand and watched Ellen’s quick movements. Where did she get all her energy? Surely she must be exhausted from doing laundry all day.
Ellen sat in a chair and gave her a penetrating look. “That story sounded true. Was it?”
Jessica smiled slightly. “Yes. That really happened.”
“Who was Ruth? A friend?”
Jessica felt sudden tears well up in her eyes. What was wrong with her lately? She never cried. “No, it was me,” she admitted.
Ellen looked at her sharply. “You had a brother? Your mother never mentioned it.”
Jessica felt tongue-tied for a moment. “I was adopted,” she said finally. She had never told anyone outside the family the story. “My father went off out west and never came back. My mother took up with different men until she was killed when I was eight. The police came and took me and Jasper. Several weeks later I was adopted by Mama and Papa DuBois.”
Ellen was silent for a moment, but her eyes were wet. “What happened to Jasper?”
Tears spilled down Jessica’s cheeks, and she scrubbed at them furiously. “I don’t know. I never saw him again.” The constant pain had been with her all these years. She just wished she knew Jasper was okay.
“Oh, my dear Jessica, I’m so sorry you had to go through such pain, especially at such a young age. Life can be hard. But you can thank God that He put you into such a warm and loving family.”
“But I’m not happy,” Jessica admitted. “I know I should be. I have everything a woman could want. What’s wrong with me?” The cry came from her heart. Was this all there was to life? Her lips trembled, and she swallowed hard.
Ellen took her hand. “Happiness is something different from real joy and peace, Jess. God gives us joy and peace through good times and bad. He’s what keeps us stable through whatever life throws our way.”
Jessica shook her head. “Where was God when my family was ripped apart? Where was God when Papa died? God doesn’t care about me now. He never has.”
“Oh, you’re so wrong, Jessie. God has always loved you. He’s there for you if you will just turn to Him and ask for His help.”
“What do you mean? If He’s there, why should I have to ask?” Jessica drew her hand out of Ellen’s grasp. She had never begged in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now.
“God never forces His presence on His children. How would you like it if your mother was always butting in and telling you how to do things and never letting you learn anything on your own? God wants to be your comfort and your strength. But you have to come to the end of yourself, where you realize you are helpless and that the only way to heaven and God’s peace is by what Jesus did on the cross for you. He took your punishment for everything you’ve done wrong in your life. He reconciled you to God—but you have to receive His free gift of grace.”
Jessica shook her head. It made no sense to her. But she did envy Ellen’s peace and contentment. Even through her bereavement, she had been strong and somehow secure.
“I can see you don’t understand. Why don’t you come to church with me and Franny on Sunday? Clay explains it so well.”
Clay. Just the mention of his name set her heart to pounding. “What do you think Clay really thinks of me?” she asked slowly.
Ellen was silent for a moment, and Jessica could read the answer on her face.
“He thinks I’m a frivolous, spoiled brat, doesn’t he?”
“He doesn’t know you as well as I do,” Ellen said. “You have to understand something about Clay. He grew up with sisters who never had a thought in their heads about anything but their looks. And because of them, he doesn’t think any woman with beauty could have any real depth of character.” She touched Jessica’s hand again. “But he’ll see who you really are someday.”
Jessica’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Maybe a vain, selfish woman is all I am, Ellen. Maybe you’re the one who will see the real me someday.” She stood and stretched. “I’d better get home and let you get to bed. Thanks for listening. I’ve never had a friend before. It’s nice.” She bent and kissed Ellen’s cheek. “You’re a peach.”
§
The next morning when she went to pick up Franny, the day was warm and lovely. Spring was here in full bloom. When she saw wisps of thistledown floating in the wind, she realized that’s all her life was: a bit of will-o’-the-wisp pulled in any direction the wind blew. But she didn’t want to be like that. She wanted to have real purpose in life.
When she knocked on the door, she could hear Franny’s piping voice reciting her ABCs. Jessica swallowed the lump in her throat. Franny had remembered what she’d been taught so far; that was at least one good thing she had done in her life, if God was keeping score.
Ellen opened the door and her face crinkled into a smile. “It’s about time you got here. Franny has been driving me crazy wondering where you were.”
The room was pleasantly perfumed with smoke from the woodstove and toasting bread. Jessica felt a pang of wistfulness for the simple pleasures Ellen enjoyed with Franny. She herself had never felt the contentment that glowed on Ellen’s face. That happiness seemed so elusive. Would she ever feel it herself? How did one go about finding it?
Franny looked up from her perch on Clay’s lap. “Jessie!” she cried. Dimples flashing, she slid to the floor and hurtled toward Jessica.
Jessica knelt and held out her arms. “You’re doing very well with your ABCs,” she said, sweeping her up. The feel of that small, warm body brought a lump to her throat. It was a strange feeling, one she wasn’t sure she liked. It was safer not to get involved with other people, safer not to open herself up to pain and disappointment. But she’d already done it now.
Clay stood and thrust his hands in his pockets. “Run out of things to do?”
Jessica thrust her chin in the air. “Did you?”
He laughed. “Touché. Truce?” He held out his hand.
“Truce.” She shook his hand and quickly let go when her heart for some strange reason began to race. She just didn’t understand these reactions she had to him. The wisest thing would be to avoid him altogether, but she was determined not to let him get the upper hand in their relationship.
“Have you had breakfast?” Ellen cut fresh slices of bread and reached for the jam.
Jessica’s stomach rumbled before she could answer.
“I guess that’s a no,” Ellen laughed. “That was a hungry stomach if I ever heard one.”
“It does smell good,” Jessica admitted. “But are you sure you have enough?”
“She means are you sure you have enough to feed a hungry man as well as the rest of you,” Clay put in. “Just to set your minds at ease, I had breakfast—but I wouldn’t turn down a bit of toast.”
Jessica carried Franny over to the table and sat down in the chair beside Clay. She thought about asking if she could help Ellen, but Ellen might ask her to do something she didn’t know how to do, and Jessica didn’t want to betray any more ignorance to Clay. Besides, since when was what a woman could do important? All that mattered was that she was beautiful and cultured—and on that basis, she was a success. She tilted her chin and straightened her shoulders, proud of her beauty and culture; no one had the right to mold her into something she wasn’t. Just because Clay’s sisters had prejudiced him against beautiful women didn’t mean she had to be ashamed of being beautiful.
They spent a pleasant breakfast laughing and talking about nothing and everything. She flirted with Clay, and although he showed no sign of responding, she enjoyed the challenge in his hazel eyes. She was careful to keep her complacency from her expression, though. There was something about Clay. Something that made her want him to see beyond her outer beauty. She wanted him to see what she saw in El
len, that inner loveliness that seemed to emanate from within.
§
Clay was thoughtful as he walked away from the tiny laundress cabin. He didn’t know what to make of Jessica. He had thought he knew just what kind of person she was from the moment he met her, but then she would do something that seemed so out of character for the spoiled, willful woman he thought she was. Like the challenge he’d given her to invite her cousins, for instance; he’d been shocked when she actually did it, and then she had obviously managed to make friends with Caleb. After lunch she had even laughed and talked with Miriam and Bridie. And he had thought she would soon lose interest in Franny, especially once she realized the officers’ wives wouldn’t associate with Ellen. But instead of being embarrassed to be associated with a laundress and her child, she faithfully took Franny for lessons every day and often dropped in after supper to visit with Ellen.
She had even come to some services at the fort. For some reason, though, her big blue eyes gazing at him all through the service had been distracting. There was no way he was going to let himself get involved with someone like Jessica DuBois. Someone like her would never play second fiddle to God.
He spent the day working on his Sunday message, but Jessica’s beautiful face kept intruding on his concentration. He finally threw down his pen in disgust and stretched. His two weeks at Fort Bridger were almost up, and it was time to be thinking about moving on to Colorado. Maybe the day after tomorrow would be a good time to head out.
He made his plans and left two days later. Jessica wished him a quiet good-bye, and he wondered what she was thinking. Sometimes he surprised a strange look in her eyes, and he wasn’t sure what it meant. A haunted, hungry look full of pain and longing.
Most of the summer passed before he knew it. He alternated his time between three different forts, but he found himself looking forward to his visits at Fort Bridger. For one thing, the men there were beginning to respond to his message, and three of them had accepted Christ on his last visit. But if he was honest, he would have to admit that he looked forward most to the verbal sparring with Jessica. She was an intriguing woman, and he had to keep reminding himself to protect his emotions. The last thing he wanted to do was develop any tender feelings for her. The man who fell into her clutches would rue the day.
In early September he arrived back at Fort Bridger, feeling restless and at odds with himself. He grabbed his jacket and strolled toward Ellen’s cabin, but to his surprise she wasn’t out beside her tub of laundry. The fire was out; obviously, she hadn’t done any laundry today. He rapped his knuckles against the door and waited. After a few minutes, he knocked again, then turned to go. Maybe she had taken Franny for a walk.
He’d taken only a one step when the door creaked open behind him. He turned around and saw Ellen leaning against the doorjamb. Alarm raced through him at the sight of her white face and labored breathing.
“Clay. Thank God,” she whispered. “I’ve prayed and prayed for you to come.”
In two quick steps he was at her side and caught her just as she staggered and nearly fell. “Ellen! Here, let me get you to bed.”
The heat radiating off her body made his mouth go dry with dread. Sweat had plastered her hair to her head, and she smelled of dried sweat and vomit. How long had she been sick? He half carried, half dragged her to her bed. Glancing around for Franny, he found her asleep at the foot of the bed. She looked okay, and he breathed a sigh of relief that she’d been spared whatever illness had struck Ellen.
He laid Ellen on the bed and pulled a thin blanket over her. “I’ll be right back with the doctor.”
“Franny,” Ellen whispered. “You must get Franny away from me.”
“She’s asleep right now. She’ll be fine until I get back with the doctor.”
“No! Get her out of here now!” Ellen pushed herself up and pulled on Clay’s arm urgently.
“Okay, okay.” He gently forced her back against the pillow, then scooped Franny up. She didn’t even awaken. “I’ll take her with me. You rest and I’ll be right back.”
He hurried across the parade ground to the infirmary, almost colliding with Jessica as she and Bridie came out of the sutler’s store. “Here.” He handed Franny to Jessica. “Ellen’s sick, and I’ve got to get the doctor.”
Jessica’s mouth opened, but Clay didn’t wait for her questions. He barreled through the door to the infirmary, shouting for the doctor.
Doctor Harold Mason stood washing his hands at a table on the far side of the room, a tall, well-built man with dark hair. With a weary shrug, he turned to face Clay. “No need to make such a ruckus, Preacher,” he said. “I’m not deaf.”
“My cousin Ellen is real sick, Doc,” Clay began. The door opened behind him, and he caught a whiff of Jessica’s familiar honeysuckle sachet. “You’ve got to come with me right now.”
Doctor Mason sighed. “Cholera, most likely,” he said with a frown. “It’s spreading like wildfire.”
Cholera. The very word struck terror to Clay’s heart, and he heard Jessica catch her breath behind him. Clay figured now she’d give Franny right back to him for fear of catching the disease herself. When he turned toward her, though, he saw her hand Franny to Bridie.
“Take Franny home with you and tell Mama what’s happened,” she said in a firm, no-nonsense voice. “I’ve got to take care of Ellen.”
Clay raised his eyebrows, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Doctor Mason grabbed his bag and followed them out into the street. Clay led the way back to Suds Row.
When he entered the cabin this time, the strong odor of sickness hit him in the face. He felt a rising ball of dread in his gut and hurried to the bed. Ellen was lying on her side with her legs drawn up to her chest.
Doctor Mason pushed him out of the way. “Go fix some coffee or something, and let me look at her,” he ordered. He bent over Ellen’s inert form and opened his bag.
Clay turned away and sank bonelessly into a chair. The feeling of dread grew, and he swallowed hard. He bowed his head and prayed fervently for Ellen. How could little Franny survive without her mother? Ellen had to pull through. He sensed Jessica moving around him and raised his eyes to see what she was doing. Her face set in concentration, she was trying to make coffee. She frowned at the coffeepot, and he could tell she had never made coffee before. He stood and gently moved her to one side. “Here, let me show you.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t come back with her usual sharp comment but let him demonstrate what to do. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I’ll remember next time.”
He raised an eyebrow at her mild response, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for her presence. Her concern surprised him. He turned to see what the doctor was doing, but the other man’s bulky form blocked Ellen from view. He sat in the chair again and buried his face in his hands. Cholera was deadly. He’d had a good friend die from it back in ’64. It took him fast, too.
Doctor Mason cleared his throat, and Clay looked up. The doctor put his instruments in his bag and walked to the table.
“That coffee done yet? I haven’t had a minute to even eat today. The first case of cholera showed up last night. It’s sweeping through Fort Bridger like a herd of stampeding buffalo.”
Jessica poured them all a cup of coffee and sat down beside the doctor. “What do we need to do for Ellen?” She cut the doctor a slice of bread, buttered it, and spread it with jam.
Doctor Mason bit appreciatively into the jam and bread. He swallowed and sighed. “That does hit the spot.” He shook his head. “It will just have to run its course. I gave her laudanum, but anything I do is like barkin’ at a knot. Only thing you can do is give her plenty of fluids, keep her clean, and stay alert in case she chokes when she vomits.”
Jessica nodded. “I can do that.”
“I’ll help, too,” Clay said.
The doctor finished his coffee and bread. “Send for me if you need me. There’s not much any of us can do but pray, though.
She’ll either pull through on her own or she won’t.” He picked up his bag and headed for the door. “I have other patients to check on. I’ll try to stop back later tonight.”
When he’d shut the door behind him, Jessica stood. “I’ll take the first watch. Why don’t you go check on Franny while I get Ellen cleaned up. We need to make sure Franny isn’t getting sick, too.”
Clay hesitated, but what she said made sense. He wasn’t sure if he trusted her to care for Ellen by herself, but she should be the one to clean her up. And he was worried about Franny. He picked up his hat and jammed it on his head. “I’ll be back in a little while.” He stopped when he reached the door. “Why are you doing this?” He still found it hard to believe Jessica would risk her own health for Ellen.
“She’s my friend,” Jessica said simply. “I’ve never had a friend before.” She stood and went to the little chest against the wall where spare clothing was kept. “Go check on Franny. I can handle getting Ellen cleaned up.”
Clay shrugged and went out to see Franny. Letty met him at the door with soft words of concern. He told her what the doctor had said and that he and Jessica would be caring for Ellen. She promised to help in any way she could, then showed him into the bedroom where Franny lay sleeping. He touched her head, but she felt cool. Her color looked good, and she was breathing evenly. Satisfied that she wasn’t getting sick, he closed the door softly behind him and went across the parade ground to Ellen’s cabin.
When he let himself in, Jessica was holding Ellen upright, trying to force some tea down her throat. Ellen’s head lolled back, and the tea dribbled down her chin. “Let me help.” He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned Ellen against his chest so her head stayed up. Jessica pinched her cheeks to get her mouth to open and managed to dribble a bit of tea down her throat.
“Maybe if you got a cloth and let her suck the tea up,” Clay suggested.
Jessica brightened. “Good idea.” She went to the kitchen and tore a strip of cotton from a clean dishcloth, dipped it in water, and brought it back to the bed. She twisted it and dunked it into the tea, then put it between Ellen’s lips.