Sawbones by Melissa Lenhardt Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melissa Lenhardt
for our outfit had depleted our money to an alarming degree. Only two pieces of my mother’s jewelry remained and Maureen and I decided we must not sell them until we were settled in Timberline.
“I agree,” I said. As nice as Cornelius and Anna were, Maureen and I wanted our own space. “We purchased one this afternoon, and two rather docile oxen. We shall be fine.”
Ester stood at the stove chopping vegetables for a winter stew. “Throwing good money after bad.”
“And, why is that?” Maureen asked.
“Won’t be doing much riding in the schooner. Most uncomfortable way to travel you can imagine.”
“It can’t be much worse than the trip from Galveston,” Anna said.
“Oh, you’ll be surprised. ’Course, you’ll walk most of the time.”
“I’ll be driving the wagon,” Maureen said.
Ester stopped chopping and studied Maureen. “Will you, now? I supposed you could at that.”
“I agree,” Anna said, with an encouraging smile at Maureen.
“I have no doubt you will do a fine job,” Cornelius said. “You said your oxen are docile?” The concern in Cornelius’s voice and in his expression was plain to all.
I had not been so long without male attention I could not read Cornelius’s interest in Maureen. It would have been subtler of him to take an advertisement out in the Democratic Statesman declaring his love for my maid. What I could not read, though, was Maureen. She vacillated between anger and embarrassment. Anger appeared to be winning at the moment, though that could be lingering irritation at the compliments being bandied around.
“Yes, they are docile. We have named them Piper and Púca.”
“I suppose I’m outnumbered,” Cornelius said. “My only concern is your safety.” There was a long pause in the conversation, until Cornelius coughed and said, “Meaning the safety of the entire group, of course.”
“Of course,” I said.
Maureen blushed, but tried to mask it with a scowl. “It’s awfully hot in here.”
Ester shrugged and went back to her chopping. “Y’all wanted to meet in the kitchen.”
I studied Maureen while Cornelius rambled on about the journey. She had fully recovered from her bout of seasickness. Color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. I thought back over our past and tried to remember her ever being so happy. As I watched Cornelius try to draw her out and her determined refusal to be, I wondered how much of her color was due to renewed health and how much was due to the attentions of Cornelius Warren.
“Amos Pike’ll be our trail boss,” Warren said.
“Amos Pike is a good man,” Ester interjected. “Rode with my Hiram. If anyone can get you to Colorado, it’s Amos Pike.” She accentuated her opinion by pointing her knife at us.
“Rode with your husband?” Anna asked.
“With Jack Hayes back in forty-eight.”
“Who is Jack Hayes?” I asked.
Ester scooped the vegetables into the cast-iron pot, wiped her hands on a towel, and faced us. “The best Indian fighter Texas has ever seen, and we’ve had our fair share of good ’uns. Amos was a good ’un in the end, but he didn’t start out that way. Not many do, come to think of it.”
“What happened?” Anna asked.
“Same thing always does. Comanche raid homesteads; we chase them. Only Amos was the only one who lived to tell. Walked back into Austin ten days after they left, half-dead from exhaustion and full of shame.”
“Shame for what?” I asked.
“Living. Buffalo Hump killed his whole outfit. Including my Hiram. Those savages scalped Hiram while he was still alive, gutted him like a fish.”
The bloom on Maureen’s cheeks faded. I grasped her hand and squeezed.
“Ester, please,” Cornelius said. “There are women in the room.”
Ester scoffed. “And what’m I? This ain’t London or New York, or even New Awlens.” Her voice softened a bit and she spoke as if only to Maureen. “It’s harder out here, best you know it now.” She patted
“I agree,” I said. As nice as Cornelius and Anna were, Maureen and I wanted our own space. “We purchased one this afternoon, and two rather docile oxen. We shall be fine.”
Ester stood at the stove chopping vegetables for a winter stew. “Throwing good money after bad.”
“And, why is that?” Maureen asked.
“Won’t be doing much riding in the schooner. Most uncomfortable way to travel you can imagine.”
“It can’t be much worse than the trip from Galveston,” Anna said.
“Oh, you’ll be surprised. ’Course, you’ll walk most of the time.”
“I’ll be driving the wagon,” Maureen said.
Ester stopped chopping and studied Maureen. “Will you, now? I supposed you could at that.”
“I agree,” Anna said, with an encouraging smile at Maureen.
“I have no doubt you will do a fine job,” Cornelius said. “You said your oxen are docile?” The concern in Cornelius’s voice and in his expression was plain to all.
I had not been so long without male attention I could not read Cornelius’s interest in Maureen. It would have been subtler of him to take an advertisement out in the Democratic Statesman declaring his love for my maid. What I could not read, though, was Maureen. She vacillated between anger and embarrassment. Anger appeared to be winning at the moment, though that could be lingering irritation at the compliments being bandied around.
“Yes, they are docile. We have named them Piper and Púca.”
“I suppose I’m outnumbered,” Cornelius said. “My only concern is your safety.” There was a long pause in the conversation, until Cornelius coughed and said, “Meaning the safety of the entire group, of course.”
“Of course,” I said.
Maureen blushed, but tried to mask it with a scowl. “It’s awfully hot in here.”
Ester shrugged and went back to her chopping. “Y’all wanted to meet in the kitchen.”
I studied Maureen while Cornelius rambled on about the journey. She had fully recovered from her bout of seasickness. Color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. I thought back over our past and tried to remember her ever being so happy. As I watched Cornelius try to draw her out and her determined refusal to be, I wondered how much of her color was due to renewed health and how much was due to the attentions of Cornelius Warren.
“Amos Pike’ll be our trail boss,” Warren said.
“Amos Pike is a good man,” Ester interjected. “Rode with my Hiram. If anyone can get you to Colorado, it’s Amos Pike.” She accentuated her opinion by pointing her knife at us.
“Rode with your husband?” Anna asked.
“With Jack Hayes back in forty-eight.”
“Who is Jack Hayes?” I asked.
Ester scooped the vegetables into the cast-iron pot, wiped her hands on a towel, and faced us. “The best Indian fighter Texas has ever seen, and we’ve had our fair share of good ’uns. Amos was a good ’un in the end, but he didn’t start out that way. Not many do, come to think of it.”
“What happened?” Anna asked.
“Same thing always does. Comanche raid homesteads; we chase them. Only Amos was the only one who lived to tell. Walked back into Austin ten days after they left, half-dead from exhaustion and full of shame.”
“Shame for what?” I asked.
“Living. Buffalo Hump killed his whole outfit. Including my Hiram. Those savages scalped Hiram while he was still alive, gutted him like a fish.”
The bloom on Maureen’s cheeks faded. I grasped her hand and squeezed.
“Ester, please,” Cornelius said. “There are women in the room.”
Ester scoffed. “And what’m I? This ain’t London or New York, or even New Awlens.” Her voice softened a bit and she spoke as if only to Maureen. “It’s harder out here, best you know it now.” She patted