Mail Order Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1) (13 page)

She covered the plants, knowing she was trapping dozens of the hungry insects beneath. Briggs returned with some tools and waved his hat over the green leaves, slapping and fanning the trembling plants.

After a moment, she found herself frozen in space, staring in confusion at her husband. He stood in the center of the garden, ignoring the grasshoppers on his shoulders and sleeves.

What was wrong? Why was he just standing there?

The yellow sunshine of only moments ago was turning gray. There was a loud ringing in her ears, a violent pounding against her ribcage. Briggs looked pale.

Sarah gazed into his frowning eyes, then turned slowly toward the horizon that held her husband’s attention.

“Oh, no,” she said.

A peculiar cloud was moving in from the west, too dark in color to be a rain or dust storm. It advanced all too quickly, as if powered by some unearthly energy, floating higher until it blocked the sun.

Sarah moved closer to Briggs, who protectively closed his hand around her forearm. “This can’t be happening,” he said, shaking his head with disbelief.

“What is it?”

He quickly escorted her away from the garden. “I think you better go inside.”

Sarah stopped and pulled her arm from his grasp. “Why? Tell me what it is.”

Without taking his eyes off the darkening sky, he answered. “It’s a swarm of locusts.”

Chapter Eleven

Briggs stopped and watched the grasshoppers pass like a dense shadow over the wheat field. The stalks hushed, as if they were too frightened to even breathe. The dark cloud whirled about like snowflakes in the chaos of a winter storm.

Shadow barked while Sarah and Briggs stood astonished, hypnotized as they watched the seething, fluttering mass in the distance. It roared like a prairie fire, rasping and ringing and crackling.

Briggs snapped himself out of his daze and continued to drag Sarah toward the house. “What about the crops?” she cried, the full meaning of this invasion settling into her brain.

“I’m going to cut what I can.”

Sarah forced him to stop. “You’re going to fight them?”

“Yes.”

“You have to let me help you.”

“No,” he replied. “You stay inside. Seal up the house.”

“I will, but then I’ll come and help.”

More pests came upon them, flying into their faces and lodging in their clothing. Sarah screeched, waving her arms.

“Sarah, I don’t think you—”

“You need my help!”

Surprised at her willingness, he looked around the yard. The horses, frightened and restless, were still hitched to the wagon, the pigs were snorting in the pen. “Okay,” he said. “Cut what you can from the vegetable garden. Get the animals into the barn and close the doors. I’m going to get my corn knife. We’ll start there.”

“What about the wheat?”

“We can only be in one place at a time. Go!” He touched the small of her back and sent her off while he ran back to the wagon.

* * *

Crunching grasshoppers under her feet with every step, Sarah ran first to the barn to seal it before it became infested. She screamed at the pigs—“Yah! Yah!”—and herded them, squealing and snorting, inside. Sarah slammed and latched the door.

Next, she ran to the edge of the yard where Maddie stood at the water trough, lowing and stomping about.

“Come on, Maddie!”

Sarah led the cow to the barn and slapped her rump.
Slam
, the door was shut—
click
, it was latched. She swung around. What next?

The garden.

A grasshopper hit her in the eye. “Ouch!” she cried, rubbing it. Sarah ran to the dugout and spotted Shadow. “Come on, boy! Get over here!”

The dog ran toward her, but stopped a few feet away. His ears rose and fell as if he knew she meant to lock him up and keep him from his duty as guard dog. He stubbornly sat down.

“Shadow!” Sarah yelled, her patience snapping. “Get in here!” She clapped her hands and opened the dugout door for him. “Hurry up! There’s no time for this!”

After a moment’s deliberation, he ran inside.

“Good boy!” She dashed in behind him, her shoes tapping quickly down the dirt steps. It was dark—where was the knife? Her gaze darted to the table. The stove. There. Her fingers closed around the wood handle, she picked up two empty buckets, and in a flash, she was scurrying back up the stairs, where she paused at the top.

Briggs had tried to convince her to stay inside, and the temptation was all too great, but he needed her help. This was her farm, too.

She strengthened her will and pushed the door open. A mass of winged creatures blew into the house.

“No!” Sarah yelled, forcing herself to dash outside and slam the door behind her. She heard Shadow barking his protest from inside.

Feet drumming over the wriggling, crunchy ground, insects beating against her bonnet and clothing, she clutched the knife and returned to the vegetable garden.

The blankets, she discovered in horror, were almost invisible, covered with locusts. Sarah ripped the blankets from the ground, sending a flurry of creatures into the air. Soon, she had filled two buckets with whatever vegetables were left, leaving the potatoes, which she hoped would be safe underground.

She carried the buckets into the house, then ran outside again to help Briggs in the corn field.

By the time she arrived, he looked exhausted. His face was damp with perspiration, his hat literally being eaten off his head.

“Did you save the vegetables?” he asked, wiping a sleeve across his forehead.

“They’re in the house and all the animals are in the barn.”

“Good. Now tie up the stalks I’ve cut and pile them in the wagon. We can’t haul everything back, but if the stalks are bunched, some will survive.”

Nodding, Sarah gathered what fell behind Briggs. The green stalks were fast disappearing, impossible as it was to keep up with the grasshoppers’ greedy jaws.

Before they had stacked a tenth of the crop, the sun had set.

“It’s dark!” Sarah called out, trying to see through the cloud of insects between them. “What should we do?”

Briggs stopped working and turned to her. He was covered in sweat and grime. “You’re exhausted. Look at you. You should go back, Sarah. Stay inside.”

“No, I can keep working.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then removed his work gloves. “We can’t keep up this pace. We should take a break. Get some food. That’ll give me a chance to empty the wagon, get these crops into the barn.”

Sarah nodded and followed him to the rig, anxious to return to the house and escape the constant menace of the locusts.

* * *

By the time Briggs entered the dugout, Sarah had managed to get her salt pork stew onto the table while killing a few dozen grasshoppers in the process. She wiped a damp cloth over her forehead and tried to pat down her messy hair.

Shadow sat down next to the stove. Briggs removed his hat. He looked solemn.

“How long do you think this will last?” Sarah asked.

“I don’t know.” He sat down at the table and rubbed his eyes.

The house was all too quiet. “Do you think they’ll get the wheat?”

“It looks that way.”

Serving up the stew, Sarah sensed Briggs’s discouragement, his need to sit and eat without talking. He probably didn’t know how to tell her that the profits from the wheat harvest were supposed to be their sustenance for the winter. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it, either.

Troubled, she scooped some water out of the bucket for each of them and gave Briggs a cup. He quickly downed it, his face contorting sourly after he’d swallowed. “Agggh!”

Sarah cringed, examining her own cup of water. “Oh no,” she said. “I scooped them out of the bucket as best I could—the ones that were floating. There must have been some at the bottom.”

He set down his cup.

“I can make coffee. That might mask the flavor a bit.” She prepared a pot, and while it was heating, she sat down to eat.

“The timing couldn’t have been worse,” Briggs said. “If that swarm had just waited another week, the harvester would have arrived and cut all twenty acres in a couple of days.”

Sarah looked across the table, hearing the gloom in her husband’s voice. Even so, he seemed too calm, and it worried her. Maybe he thought this would be the final straw to send her running back to Boston.

Well, not so. Not so….

Closing her eyes, she clasped her hands together. “
Thank you, Lord, for giving us the strength to save some of the corn and vegetables. Thank you for keeping Briggs and I safe through all of this. And thank you for this supper. Amen.
”

She opened her eyes to see Briggs staring dazedly at her, his mouth slightly open. “
Amen
,” he said, finally.

“Go ahead, dig in,” Sarah prompted.

They began to eat, both of them famished. Occasionally, a stray locust would spring onto the table, only to meet a sudden death under Briggs’s big, heavy fist.

“I wonder how the Whitikers are managing,” Sarah said. “Do you think they were invaded, too?”

“I hope not. Howard has a bigger crop, more to lose.”

“But they have the children. Frank would be a help, I think.”

“Yes, he likely would be. Molly wouldn’t like it much, though. I hate to think of it.”

Sarah felt her heart throb for the little girl. “I hope she’s all right.”

Briggs finished his first helping. “Is there any more?”

“Yes, I’ll get you some.” Sarah rose to refill her husband’s bowl.

When she sat down again, he rubbed his forehead. “I have bad news. Before I came in, I went to the vegetable garden to get the blankets we’d left there. I’m afraid there wasn’t much left.”

“Much left of the garden?”

“No,” he answered, his voice tired. “There wasn’t much left of the blankets.”

Sarah covered her mouth with her hand and looked toward the bare mattress on the bed.

“The darn things chewed right through them,” Briggs went on. “They were in shreds.”

“That was all we had.”

Shadow perked up, whimpering at her.

“I know,” Briggs said. “You’ll have to cover yourself with some clothing, at least until we can get something else.”

But without the wheat harvest, how could they afford to buy blankets, much less the bare necessities for the winter?

Briggs slid his chair back. “I should go milk Maddie and water the horses.”

“What about the coffee?”

“When I come back,” he answered, donning his hat. “Can you keep it hot for me?”

“Of course.”

Briggs left, taking Shadow with him, and Sarah set to work clearing away the dishes. Milking Maddie was supposed to be Sarah’s job. Truth be told, she couldn’t face stepping outside again. Not just yet.

A short time later, Briggs returned with a bucket of milk in his hand. Shadow followed, tail wagging. Life from inside the house seemed almost normal until Briggs set the bucket down. Sarah looked inside and saw a few insects squirming about in a panic, trying to crawl over each other to save themselves from drowning. “Ugh!” she groaned, as gooseflesh tingled down her back.

Briggs appeared beside her and scooped them out with a cup.

She felt tears coming, tears she’d fought against all day. As she considered it more, she realized they were the same tears she’d been fighting every day since she’d stepped off the train.

Every time her husband looked at her with that disappointed expression, she’d wanted to weep. But she hadn’t. And she wouldn’t now. Things could be worse, she told herself. Though how much worse, she could not imagine.

Feeling Briggs’s gaze upon her, she looked up. He stared at her, his eyes full of apologies. Apologies for what? For the grasshoppers? For the lost crop? For the coming winter? Or was it for all that had passed between them?

“When I brought you here,” he said, “I didn’t think it would be like this.”

As she digested his words, all her efforts to keep tears away failed her. All she’d wanted for so long was a kind word from her husband, anything to say that he cared for her, even just a little. She’d wanted to see the gentle man she had seen in the courthouse on their wedding day, the man who had cared enough to sit her down and fan a cool breeze into her face.

Here he was, now, stepping closer to wipe away the single tear that fell across her cheek.

“It’s not so bad,” she managed to say, her voice shaky.

He lowered his hand to his side and stepped back. “I have to go out again,” he replied. “I have to try and save whatever’s left. But you should stay here, Sarah. Get some rest.”

She thought of him out there in the darkness alone, cutting corn stalks and fighting off the insects. He would be discouraged and he would lose more hope with every passing hour.

No, she decided. She would not let him down. Not now. She would go out there, exhausted or not, and carry the corn stalks, or whatever was left of them, to safety.