Prairie Fire (10 page)

Caitrin’s eyes filled with sudden, unexpected tears. “If you wish to pray about Jack, Rosie, pray for his soul,” she choked out. “Pray that the Spirit of God will fill his heart. Pray for the troubled family who depends upon him. Pray for his safety from those who pursue him. Pray that he may find a good woman who has the courage to love him as he deserves. For my own part, I shall pray that if Jack Cornwall’s name is ever spoken again in the town of Hope, you will remember that he is a man and not a snake. Perhaps then the Holy Spirit will direct your tongue to defend him with words of kindness, truth … and forgiveness.”

Wiping a hand across her damp cheek, Caitrin pushed open the door and stepped into the soddy. Jimmy was snoring beside the fire. All the children were asleep. Sheena glanced up from her mending.

“Ah, Caitrin, there you are,” she said. “Poor Rosie was in kinks of worry over you. You’ve been away such a long time. Are the stores all in place?”

“Aye, Sheena.” Caitrin picked up her darning and sat down on the low stool. Behind her, she heard Rosie slip into the room. “All is as it should be.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sheena said. “With devils like Jack Cornwall roving about the place—”

“I’m sure Jack Cornwall is no more a devil than you or I, Sheena.” Rosie spoke firmly as she took her place beside the fire and spread her wedding dress over her knees. “Caitrin, what do you think of this row of ruffles? Maybe I should take it off. I’m not really the ruffly kind of girl, am I?”

Caitrin blinked back the tears that threatened. “You’re the good kind of girl, Rosie Mills,” she said. “And ruffles or not, you will look beautiful on your wedding day.”

“I do wish Hope had a real church,” Sheena said as she and Caitrin slipped onto a bench near the front door of the mercantile. “A wedding should be held inside a proper sanctuary. Nothing else seems quite right.”

“The real church is the body of Christ—everyone who believes in him,” Caitrin said. “And with all of us collected here today, the Hope Mercantile is as fine a place as any for Rosie’s wedding.”

Caitrin surveyed the decorations inside the wood frame building and tried to take joy in her handiwork. Sprays of winter wheat tied in huge yellow bows hung on the mercantile’s walls. Sunflowers with nodding brown faces and bright golden petals clustered in vases, bottles, and jars around the room. Every counter wore a length of sunny yellow calico or gingham topped with plates piled high with cupcakes and cookies. Seth had built a little pulpit, and it stood on the rough dirt floor facing the gathered crowd. Near it, hands clasped behind his back, waited a bald-headed little minister. The man had been imported all the way from Topeka just for the occasion.

As the community’s motley band began to play on fiddles, accordions, and mouth harps, Caitrin let out a deep breath. Well, she hoped Rosie and Seth would enjoy their wedding day. She had done all she could to make the surroundings beautiful. The good Lord himself had melted away every flake of the early snow that had fallen. He’d arranged for a sky the color of chicory blossoms and an afternoon sun in the exact buttery shade of Rosie’s wedding dress. Caitrin had no doubt that the union established this day would be wreathed in happiness.

As for herself, all contentment had walked out of her life with Jack Cornwall. For the past few days she had been a tangle of nerves. Snappish, impatient words slipped from her tongue. She could find no pleasure in her neat rows of merchandise and the eager customers who stopped at the mercantile to buy. She could not even delight in Sheena’s little brood. They vexed her, tried her patience, and made so much noise it was all she could do not to scream at them. Jack had stolen nothing from her—nothing but the very joy of living.

Against her own best intentions, Caitrin checked the barn storeroom at least three times a day. But of course, he was never there. When she tried to sleep at night, his words ran in dizzy circles around her brain. Worst of all, every time she thought about the years stretching ahead, she saw nothing but bleak isolation.

The prospect of owning Seth’s soddy only served to remind her that she would spend the rest of her days alone. Always alone.
Was
that such a terrible thing?
she asked herself time and again. It should not be. The apostle Paul himself had chosen the single life, better to dedicate himself to the Lord’s work. Surely Caitrin could adopt such a holy attitude.

But no. The rapture in Rosie’s eyes plunged a knife of agony into her heart. And she despised herself all the more for it.

Caitrin dug into her pocket for a handkerchief. Was every man who barely touched her soul bound to abandon her? First Sean O’Casey. Then Jack Cornwall. Who would be next?
No one
, for she would never dare let another man near enough to hurt her. Caitrin sniffled. She could only pray that people would assume her tears were borne of happiness for dear Rosie … and never suspect that she wept out of vain, wretched pity for herself. Oh, could God ever forgive her for such a sin? And could she ever find a way out of this maze of misery?

A tap on her shoulder halted her recriminations for an instant. Jack? She looked over her shoulder to find a pair of warm gray eyes crinkling at the corners, a thatch of shaggy blond hair, and a smile as bright as heaven itself.

“
Ist
beautiful, the mercantile,” Rolf Rustemeyer said, his words thick with German accent. The huge, solidly built farmer leaned closer and patted her arm with his heavy, work-worn hand. “You maken fery pretty, Fraulein Murphy. You maken happy day
für
Rosie
und
Seth.”

Rolf’s determined effort to communicate softened Caitrin’s dismay. She gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, Mr. Rustemeyer. It is a lovely day.”

“Ja.”
He nodded. “Goot day
für
vedding. Zoon Rolf Rustemeyer vill builden big
Kirche. Kirche. Für
veddings, peoples dying.”

Caitrin frowned. What on earth was he talking about?
“Kirche?”
she repeated. “What is that?”

“Ach.”
He slapped his knee in frustration.
“Kirche.
Is
Gott’s
Haus.”

Caitrin used her knowledge of the Gaelic tongue to decipher the message. “A
Kirche
is like a
kirk
? A church. You’re going to build a church for the town of Hope, are you?”

“Ja, ja, ja!”
Rolf beamed.

The band began to play louder, and Caitrin glanced toward the mercantile door. Seth Hunter—straight, tall, and handsome—entered with little Chipper holding tightly to his hand. The proud father’s new white shirt fairly gleamed, and his son all but danced in his shiny new shoes. Aye, but they were a fine pair, the boy a mirror image of his papa. Rosie had made herself a wonderful match indeed.

“Fery zoon, I vill
Kirche
builden,” Rolf whispered, tapping Caitrin’s shoulder again. “Here I builden. Near mercantile. You vill zee me on daytime. All days,
ja?
”

Caitrin’s smile froze as the significance of his words sank in. Rosie had told her that Rolf would like to court her. Perhaps he would even want to marry her. To Rosie, that would be a wonderful solution to Caitrin’s loneliness. And if Rolf spent day after day building a church near the mercantile, she would have no choice but to acknowledge him.

Caitrin studied the big man, all brawn and hardy good humor. Though his reputation in the community was spotless, Caitrin viewed Rolf more as a potential project than as a suitor. He needed a good haircut. A cake of strong lye soap would do wonders with the dirt embedded in his hands. And a few more English lessons would serve him well socially. Just as Caitrin had helped transform a barn into a mercantile, she might change a rough-hewn farmer into a gentleman. But to put her future into those large hands? To give her heart to Rolf Rustemeyer? Oh, heavens!

“’Tis the bride!” Sheena whispered, elbowing Caitrin.

Everyone stood as Rosie stepped into the mercantile. She was a vision … her yellow dress lit up the room, her brown hair gleamed, and her smile could have lit a thousand lamps. Seth looked as if he might burst with pride as she came to stand at his side. Love fairly poured out of the man’s blue eyes. Rosie bent to kiss Chipper’s cheek, and the little boy threw his arms around her neck.

“Hi, Rosie,” he cried out. “We’re gonna get married now!”

The nervous excitement in the room broke, and everyone chuckled as the happy threesome moved to stand before the preacher. When the familiar words of the wedding ceremony filtered through the room, Jimmy took Sheena’s hand. It was a perfect moment, Caitrin thought. Two hearts joined as man and wife. One little soul given a brand-new mama.

The women in the congregation dabbed their eyes. Children sat transfixed. Men turned their hat brims in their laps and grinned with satisfaction. Chipper’s gangly puppy, Stubby, wandered into the mercantile and lay down at Rosie’s feet, his big tail thumping up puffs of dust.

“Seth, you may now kiss your wife,” the minister said at last.

For a moment, silence hung in the room. Then Seth folded Rosie in his arms and gave her a kiss that was warm, tender … and much too long. The children giggled. One of the men called out, “Save it for later, Seth!” and everyone burst into laughter.

As the congregation rose, Caitrin stuffed her handkerchief into her pocket, determined to make a joyful occasion of the event. Rosie and Seth turned to walk out of the mercantile, and everyone rushed to engulf the couple. Caitrin worked her way through the throng until she was able to give the bride a warm hug.

“God’s richest blessings upon you, Rosie,” she whispered. “I wish you every happiness in the world.”

“And you, too, Caitrin!” Rosie said. “I pray that you’ll find as perfect a man for you as Seth is for me.”

Seth leaned through the crowd and laid a warm hand on Caitrin’s shoulder. “Thank you, Miss Murphy. The place looks great.”

And then the couple were whirled away … out into the fresh air where tables and benches had been set up to feed everyone. Caitrin squared her shoulders against the tide of melancholy that threatened once again, and she headed for the serving line. Rolf Rustemeyer and Casimir Laski had been roasting a pig since dawn. Neighboring women had brought dishes filled with steaming corn, green beans, and black-eyed peas. There were bowls of mashed potatoes and crocks of brown gravy. And the fresh rolls piled in baskets almost could have fed the biblical five thousand without a miracle.

Caitrin rolled up her sleeves and took charge of the potatoes and gravy. By the time she had dished out a dollop for every visitor, her arms were aching. She filled her own plate and headed for a table near the barn.

“Caitrin, come over here!” Rosie called, beckoning from the heavily festooned central table. “Sit with us!”

Obedient, Caitrin turned and set her plate beside Chipper’s. The little boy had fed half his pork to Stubby, who was licking his chops for more. “A grand day this is for you, Chipper,” she said. “Sure, I never saw a pair of shoes so fine.”

“Yeah,” Chipper managed around a mouthful of bread. “Papa bought ’em for me. I gots a mama
an’
a papa now, Caitrin. Rosie’s gonna live with us in the soddy, did you know? An’ Papa’s gonna build us a new house this winter. A wood one.”

“Truly? Not a sod house?”

“Nope. Wood.” Chipper swallowed the bite. “Papa told me that Rosie might have a baby brother or sister for me one of these days. You need to get yourself a daddy, Caitrin. That way you can have babies.”

“Now, Chipper,” Seth said sternly.

But Rosie was laughing. “You’re exactly right about our babies, sweetheart. I’m going to pray that you’ll have lots and lots of brothers and sisters. And then won’t we all have fun?”

“I sure do wish Gram an’ Gramps could be here now,” Chipper said. “Uncle Jack, too. I miss ’em. Maybe they could all get married to us, an’ live with us, an’ then we’d be one family.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, but Caitrin finally found her tongue. “What a big family that would be, Chipper,” she said. “I think you and your new mama must want a family as big as the O’Tooles’. And where is poor Will O’Toole today? In all the excitement, have you forgotten your best friend?”

“Look down there at the end of the table,” the child said, pointing. “There’s Will with Erinn an’ Colleen. They watched Rosie get married to Papa an’ me today. Will says Rosie will be a good mama. Why don’t
you
want to be a mama, Caitrin?”

“Oh, look, Chipper,” Rosie cut in. “Jimmy’s going to make a speech.”

The gangly Irishman rose and lifted his mug of hot apple cider. “’Tis a fine day for our good friend Seth Hunter, and as fine a day for the rest of us here to have the pleasure of rejoicin’ in his wedding. Sure, there never was a man as good, honest, and hardworkin’ as our Seth. Nor was there ever as pretty and lovin’ a woman as dear Rosie—save my own sweet Sheena, of course. And if I didn’t say that I’d be sleepin’ in the barn tonight.”

Jimmy paused amid the chuckles. “So, here’s to the happy pair,” he continued. “Seth and Rosie, may you live long, grow rich, and bear more wee
brablins
than you can count in a day!”