His Prairie Princess (Prairie Brides 1) (5 page)

Miss Jones must have thought the same thing as she raced to the shed’s door, her face stricken. She softly knocked before she entered. Harrison and the Waller
's followed her in.

Just as Harrison thought, the temperature inside wasn’t any different from
outside.  There was a small potbelly stove but it was stone cold.  “I’ll start a fire right away,” he offered.

“No need, Harrison.” Doc Waller told him, and bent to the cot shoved against the wall.

A thin form was buried beneath several ragged quilts.  Doc Waller gently shook the woman who in turn fell into a horrible coughing fit.  She poked her head out from under the quilts and spit blood into a nearby bucket.  She then took in the faces staring down at her.

“What do you want?” She rasped.

Miss Jones approached slowly, the others moved out of her way. She pushed the bucket behind her and knelt beside the cot.  “I ... I’ve come to help you.”

The woman’s glazed eyes narrowed.  “Help me?”  She coughed again.  “Help me out of town you mean.  What’s the matter? This shed still too close to Mrs. Dunnigan?  I suppose now she wants to send me out onto the prairie to die.”

Miss Jones shook her head.  “No, nothing like that.  We’re here to take you to Mr. and Mrs. Waller’s home.  You can get better there.  They have a room you can use.”

The woman looked at her and coughed again. Miss Jones was quick to grab the bucket for her.  After she coughed up more blood she fell back upon the cot.  “Who are you?”

Harrison watched as Miss Jones closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m your daughter Sadie, and I’ve come to get you out of here.”

Sadie held her breath.  Her mother stared at her in shock and disbelief before she clawed her way to a sitting position.  Once she managed that she again fell into a horrible coughing fit.  Doc Waller stepped forward.  “We best move her before the cold takes its toll. It’s freezing in here.”  He turned to Grandma Waller.  “You run on ahead and get the bed ready.”

Grandma Waller hurried out the door as the coughing continued.  Sadie extended a hand to her mother and rubbed her back.  The woman looked like she was trying to wave the hand away as her body jerked and heaved from the force of her coughing.

Sadie couldn’t stand seeing her like this.  Even if she wasn’t her mother, no one should suffer so.  “Let’s get you out of here.  You’ll be much more comfortable at the Waller’s home.”

“Why are you doing this?”  H
er mother rasped between spasms. 

“I told you. I’m taking you out of here.  You won’t get well in this drafty
shack.  What are you doing out here anyway?”

The woman hugged herself to get her heaving body under control.  “Don’t you know?  I ain’t fit enough to be inside.  I’m no better than a filthy animal in this town’s eyes.”

Sadie nodded to Doc Waller to help get her mother up off the cot.  She’d deal with the remark about the town later.  Getting her mother warm was more important.

“Here, let me help.”  Harrison
said as he bent to the cot and in one swift move, lifted her mother into his arms, quilts and all.

“Mr. Cooke!” Sadie began.  Surely he wasn’t going to carry her all the way back to the Waller
's home.  But then, hadn’t he carried her?  And at a greater distance and under much more difficult circumstances too.  She felt an odd flutter in her stomach at the thought of his race to save her from the outlaws.

He looked at her, one
brow raised in question, then smiled  “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to injure her.  I promise.”

He was making light of the situation.  It made her feel better.  “I don’t think there are any trees along the way to worry about, Mr. Cooke.”
She wanted to call him by his first name, but felt it wasn't yet proper.

  His smile broadened into a great, glorious warm smile that sent Sadie’s heart into a back flip. “We should go,” he began.  “Doc’s house is on the other side of town.”  He glanced to the woman in his arms.  She had her head against his shoulder, her eyes closed.  She’d not put up a fuss when he picked her up.  She was indeed weak.  All her strength spent talking.  Sadie met his eyes with the same look of concern. 

They left the shack and headed back to the Waller's.  Sadie walked beside him and watched her mother for any signs of major discomfort.  Her body was so still she feared the woman died in Harrison’s arms after he picked her up.  But Sadie could hear her mother moan softly now and then, confirming she was still quite alive. 

Sadie was glad he took the initiative and gathered her up.  They had planned to support her mother and walk back to the house, even get the wagon if need be.  No one t
hought to carry her as Harrison now did, but it was the quickest way. Sadie smiled at him, grateful.

“In the street th
ere!  What are you about?”  A woman’s voice called.

Sadie turned toward the sound.  A rather plump woman stood on the porch of th
e mercantile.  Sadie hadn’t paid attention to the other buildings on her way to fetch her mother. 
‘
Dunnigan’s
’
was painted on a small board and hung above the door.  The place didn’t even have a proper sign.

Doc Waller stopped up short.  “Good Morning, Mrs. Dunnigan.  Can’t talk!  Got sickness to tend to!” He then tr
otted to catch up with Harrison who didn’t bat an eye at the woman. 

“You there!  Young lady!  What are you doing with her?  Is she dead?”

Anger ignited within Sadie. The woman actually sounded hopeful. “She most certainly is not.  In fact, I suspect she shall have a full recovery!”  And with that she continued on and ignored the huffing and puffing of the woman who launched herself off the porch and followed them.

They reached the Waller’s house and quickly went inside. Mrs. Dunnigan shoved her way in before Sadie could shut the door. “Why has that woman been brought here?  No decent Christian would be caught dead touching such a disgusting creature!”

Sadie spun to face her.  “How dare you!  She’s sick and the doctor is going to treat her! No decent Christian would do anything less!”

Harrison
was already following Doc Waller upstairs.  He slowed at the exchange and glared at Mrs. Dunnigan just as Grandma Waller appeared at the top of the stairs and quickly motioned him up.  Sadie watched as he reluctantly continued.

“I don’t know who you are young lady, but you have no idea what you’ve done bringing that woman into this house!  Not to mention that Cooke boy!  What’s he doing hauling her about?”

Sadie bit her tongue to stay civil.  It didn’t work. “I can only conclude by your obvious disdain for my mother that you are disgusted to even be in her presence.  That being the case, I strongly suggest you leave.”  That wasn’t bad considering how angry she felt.  She opened the door for the woman, her jaw set, chin high.

Mrs. Dunnigan’s mouth dropped open.  “You
r
mothe
r
?  Well I might have known the way your hair is loosed like a strumpets! Like mother like daughter I always say!”

Sadie was going to hit her. By Heaven, she was!  Her hand had just balle
d itself into a fist when Harrison rushed down the stairs.  “Leaving so soon Mrs. Dunnigan?  Well then, may I escort you back to the mercantile?  Those outlaws are still about you know.”

Mrs. Dunnigan looked like she was going to let him have it with both barrels until the wor
d
outlaw
s
escaped his lips.  Her eyes widened and she quickly looked to the door.  “You can come back with me and pay your Pa’s bill.” She turned to Harrison in a huff. “It’s over due.  I’ll not sell you another thing until its paid in full!”

“But of course.  Sha
ll we?”  Harrison motioned for her to precede him and she stomped across the front porch and into the street.  He winked at Sadie as he walked passed,  “I’ll return shortly.”  He then stopped on the threshold and turned. “And your hair makes you look like a magical fairy princess,” he gently whispered.  “Never let that wicked old witch tell you otherwise.”  He smiled  the same warm smile as before, gave a slight bow, then headed out the door.

* * *

Mrs. Dunnigan huffed, puffed and stomped all the way back to the mercantile.  Harrison followed along, his jaw tight.  She’d gone too far this time.  Her hatred of anything sinful, at least in her eyes, or not to her standards got on most people’s nerves.  But most people had credit at the mercantile and so appeased the woman in order to survive.  Thankfully, he had some money with him.  And if he was lucky, it was enough to pay his stepfather’s bill.  He would have to explain to Miss Jones about Mrs. Dunnigan’s view of the world and how she was, of course, the only decent up standing citizen in it.  That is if Miss Jones hadn’t figured it out already. 

Mrs. Dunnigan waddled behind the counter and pulled out a cigar box.  She sifted through varying bundles of receipts until she found the one she wanted. “Twenty dollars and seventeen cents and I’ll not take a penny less!”

“Has anyone ever told you how lovely your skin looks when you’re collecting money, Mrs. Dunnigan?”  He shouldn’t have said it, but her treatment of Miss Jones gnawed at him to do something. 

Mrs. Dunnigan’s eyes narrowed.  “Was that an insult?”

“Of course not.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the money.  He’d been able to sell some of the stock that week.  He counted out the amount and handed it to her.  Thank Heaven he had enough.

She took it, shoved it into another box,
and then handed him the bundle of receipts.  She never once took her eyes off him as she did so.

He took the receipts from her and turned to leave. 

“You no longer have credit with me, Harrison Cooke.  You and that pack of filth can pay cash from now on.”

Harrison turned back.  He studied her then, genuinely curious.  He’d never seen her so riled up before.  “Tell me, Mrs. Dunnigan.  What makes a woman like you hate the world so very, very much?”

She started at the question, truly taken aback.  For a brief moment Harrison saw her eyes soften, just before she squared her shoulders.  “I don’t hate the world, only the disgusting filth in it.  Like that woman you toted over to Doc Waller's house.  She’s better off dead.  Then maybe this town can start to grow and some decent folks will settle here.”

“But there are decent folks who’ve settle here.”

“Decent?  Like you I suppose?  A dirty pig farmer without a penny to his name?  Your thieving brothers in prison?  Your mother dead not a year on account of your pa’s drinking?  Decent!  The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree! Don’t tell me folks here are decent. They’re no better than you are!”

Harrison should have been angry at her rant, but all he felt for her in that moment was pity.  What could have happened to make her this way?  “You are of course entitled to your opinion, Mrs. Dunnigan.  But your opinion is just that.  It doesn’t make you right.  Oh, and if I hear you speak to the young lady again as you did at Doc Waller
's, you will answer to me.  Good day.”  Harrison tipped his hat and left.

  He w
alked quickly back to the house.  Mean spirited as she was, Mrs. Dunnigan would hold to her threat of not allowing his family to have any more store credit.  He’d have to make sure he had the cash to work with when he needed supplies.  Which unfortunately, would be later that morning.  He’d make sure he got what he needed after he took care of Miss Jones and her mother.  He wanted them to get settled before he headed back to the farm.  Doc had agreed to let the two women stay for a time while Harrison got the business of contacting Miss Jones's family done and of his brother’s pardons settled. 

He had to find out what was in that letter.  For all he knew, they had already been pardoned, released, and were on their way home.  Or, it had all been rejected. That meant finding more evidence.  And
Harrison had his suspicions on where to look.

He re-entered the Waller’s house, not bothering to knock.  He knew they would be upstairs and entered the extra bedroom Grandma Waller had prepared.  He stood quietly and took in the sight of mother and daughter as Doc Waller pulled the curtain’s shut to help keep the room warm. 

Miss Jones's mother, Teresa, was propped against several pillows.  She looked better already.  Miss Jones sat in a rocking chair on one side of the bed, Grandma Waller on the other.  She was attempting to spoon broth into the sick woman.  “But it will make you feel better!  You haven’t had a thing in days. It’s a miracle you haven’t starved to death!”

Teresa looked first at the spoon in front of her, then about the room.  “I ... I can’t pay you,” she began, her bottom lip trembling.  “I don’t have money.”

Miss Jones left the chair and sat on the bed.  “You don’t have to worry about a thing.  You won’t need money ever again.  I’ll see to that.  Just concentrate on getting well.  Now have some broth.  It will warm you.”

Teresa’s eyes locked with those of her daughter’s. “Who are you again?”

“I’m your daughter,” came out a whisper.

“I have a daughter?”