Sherri Shackelford - A Temporary Family

Bill hitched his pants. “Me and Digger ate at the last stop. We’re gonna catch some winks in the livery.”

“You’re going to sleep?” Nolan couldn’t mask his incredulity. “Now?”

“I think that’s a fine idea,” the woman said with a smile. “Rest is often the best medicine.”

“But...” Nolan’s voice trailed off.

“But what?” The outrider bared his teeth in defiance. “I never argue with a lady.”

There wasn’t much Nolan could say to that, which left him alone with the woman and the three girls. With no other choice, he pivoted on his heel and trudged toward the sprawling relay station. The building had originally housed overnight guests, but since he’d taken over the post, there hadn’t been any need. Another reason he kept this job. Except for twice a week when the stagecoach came through town, he was alone.

Ten minutes later they were all seated around the rectangular table. Despite his carful maneuvering, he’d gotten sandwiched between the woman and the youngest girl.

He held out the bowl of beans. “Mrs. Hargreaves.”

“Not Missus,” she amended. “It’s just Miss. I’m not married. These delightful pixies are my nieces.”

Keeping her head bent, Caroline broke off a small crust of bread and nibbled on the edge.

“After Aunt Tilly takes us to Omaha,” Victoria said, reaching for the blackberries, “she’s traveling to New York City.”

Miss Hargreaves absently poured her niece a cup of water. “My father’s cousin serves on the board of The New York Widows and Orphans Society. Since the war, they’ve been positively overwhelmed. I can’t imagine a greater good than helping those displaced by the Southern rebellion, can you?”

Nolan flinched at the reference. “I guess not.”

The war went by different names depending on which side of the Mason-Dixon Line a fellow called home.

Victoria nodded eagerly. “Aunt Tilly promised to post us a letter every week and tell us all about her experiences.”

Caroline’s cheeks puffed out and she pressed two fingers over her mouth. Nolan’s breath hitched, and he frantically searched for the slop bucket. The girl appeared worse with each passing minute.

“I should have plenty of fascinating things to write about,” Miss Hargreaves said. “There are so many different people to meet. According to my father’s cousin, the sidewalks are packed day and night in some places. You can’t walk down the street without brushing into someone.”

“You don’t say.” Nolan’s gaze darted toward the sick child once more, but she appeared to be holding steady. “Aren’t there any interesting people where you live now?”

“I’ve exhausted the supply in Omaha.”

Following the war, he hadn’t been able to tolerate anyone touching him. Pushing through crowded streets sounded like a nightmare.

“I’m dreadfully bored these days.” Miss Hargreaves ladled a generous heaping of beans over her bread. “During the war, I helped my father with his law practice after his law clerk was conscripted. Since the war, there’s been few opportunities for me. My sister, Eleanor, thinks I’ll quit within the week, and I’m determined to prove her wrong. She thinks I’m flighty and lack direction. Have you ever felt as though people only see the worst in you?”

“Not particularly.”

He’d felt exactly that, but he sure wasn’t confiding in Miss Hargreaves. At least he had some sympathy for Bill. Her willingness to share her vulnerabilities naturally invited others to do the same.

“What about excitement?” She clasped her hands. “Don’t you get dreadfully bored out here all by your lonesome?”

“The quiet suits me.”

“The solitude would drive me mad. There are more opportunities for women in larger cities. I’m not exactly certain what I want in life, but I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to feel useless. Women were perfectly useful during the war, I don’t know why men believe we’ve suddenly become inept simply because peace was declar—” She glanced at her niece. “Oh, dear, Caroline. Do you need another trip to the privy?”

“Water.”

Miss Hargreaves shoved a full glass across the table.

The girl downed the liquid and sighed. “Better.”

“See there?” Miss Hargreaves’s smile brightened. “You’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Keeping a close watch on the girl, Nolan pushed back his plate. He’d been raised the only child of a dirt-scrabble farmer along the border of Virginia and Pennsylvania. As a child, he’d planned on farming like his father before him. Except his father had lost everything: his home, his land and his livelihood. Many of the farms on the losing side of the border had been confiscated during the war, and the land had never been returned. Following the war, his father had moved to Cimarron Springs, Kansas, to live near his sister, Nolan’s aunt Edith.

Nolan had lived with his father for a time, but if he didn’t follow certain patterns during the day, his sleep was marked by night terrors that sometimes turned violent. After nearly assaulting his own father during an episode, he’d retreated to the remotest location he could find. If he didn’t show some improvement by the time the railroads shut down the stagecoaches, he’d travel farther west. Maybe California or the Wyoming Territory.

Miss Hargreaves rested her elbow on the table and planted her chin in her hand. “It’s such a little thing, isn’t it? Wanting to be useful? Getting married and having a family is all well and good, but I’d go mad if all I had was the washing up to keep my mind occupied each day. Do you know how many documents must be filed with the county before the railroad claims a plot of land?”

“Nope.”

“One. But it’s quite complicated. The Douglas County clerk said I had a talent for land negotiations. A lot of good that does me. No one will hire a female for land management. I told my father I’d do all the paperwork for the cases, and he could take the credit. I don’t know what all the fuss is about.”

“Fuss?”

“My father. He doesn’t think that I know what I want. He’s right, I suppose. Except I know what I don’t want.” She grimaced. “He thinks we should all be more like my sister, Eleanor. Content with supporting her husband, even if that husband drags her all the way to Virginia City and then dies. Sounds dreadful to me. I have grander plans.”

Nolan had forgotten what it was like to view the future with hope rather than dread. Miss Hargreaves’s unflinching optimism was as flawless and blue as a spring sky. She was like a flash of light illuminating the darkness.

Poisonous grief threaded through his veins. Some things were better left in the shadows.

The youngest child held out her sticky fingers. “Boo-berry.”

The toddler rested a hand on his bent knee, smearing blackberries across his canvas trousers.

Nolan closed his eyes with a groan.

Miss Hargreaves absently grasped the tiny fingers and blotted them with her napkin. “Gracious, where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced us. Victoria is the oldest, Caroline is the middle child and you’re sitting next to Miss Elizabeth. You can call me Tilly. That’s short for Matilda.”

“I three,” Elizabeth stated, holding up the proper number of sticky fingers in confirmation.

Nolan scooted nearer the edge of the bench. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“I Isbeth,” the toddler said.

Tilly rolled her eyes. “My mother named my sister and me after her two favorite queens of England. Eleanor followed suit.” Tilly leaned over Elizabeth’s head and whispered in his ear. “That’s probably the only good thing that came of my brother-in-law Walter’s passing. Who wants a niece named Eadgifu? I’m sure she was a fine queen, but what an atrocious name.”