Page 542 of Conveniently Wed
Thomas had hired some of the best, most experienced cowboys that looked for work on the cattle drives, so they worked together like a well-greased wagon wheel. Even on the parts of the trail that were mountainous with scattered trees, they were able to keep the herd moving the same direction.
When they made camp the first night, Franklin’s lack of sleep intensified his fatigue. He hoped to fall asleep as soon as he slid into his bedroll.
But that didn’t happen. Satiated with Terrell’s good cooking, he went to where his saddle and bedroll awaited him while many of the other cowboys still sat around the campfire. Their quiet talking didn’t bother him, but as soon as he laid his head down, thoughts of the early morning burst forth from the box where he’d hidden them, like the Jack-in-the Box toy he’d had when he was small.
The things Mrs. Oleson told him ate on him like a passel of mosquitos, itching his mind just as much as the pesky bugs did his body. He’d become used to having Lorinda around and looked forward to coming home to her as much as he enjoyed seeing their son. Her sweet smile, the flowery fragrance that lingered in her hair, and the occasional soft touch when they passed the baby from one to the other had become important to him.
Last night when she screamed at him like the shrew in Shakespeare’s play, he’d been blind-sided. Now he understood.She’d been afraid of him hurting the baby. He couldn’t believe she thought such a thing. Somehow, he had to make her understand he’d never endanger either her or their son.
The other things Mrs. Oleson said made him wonder just what had happened in Lorinda’s past. If some man or men had mistreated her, he’d like to take his quirt to them. Although he never really used it on his horses, those men needed to feel the cuts from the leather thongs. Teach them a lesson, that real men didn’t hurt women. They protected and cherished them. His own inability to erase whatever mistreatment his wife had suffered in the past, or might suffer in the future, daggered straight to his heart.
To love and to cherish.He’d vowed those words before God and a whole passel of witnesses. He’d had no plans to cherish Lorinda. Protect her, yes, but nothing else.What kind of a man does that make me?Not much better than any other man who’d hurt her. Wouldn’t unfulfilled vows do as much damage as the other men had?
He took advantage of her vulnerability. Plain and simple. Offered her protection when he planned to withhold love and affection from her. She must feel unworthy, and he’d caused it.
Franklin turned over and tried to find a comfortable position. His own faults bruised his soul, like the sharp rocks he laid on bruised his back.
All the other cowboys now slept. A cacophony of various forms of snores, whistles, and snorts bounced around the clearing where they camped.
And here he lay castigating himself for his selfishness. How in the world would he be able to work tomorrow? Finally, his mind just shut down, and he slept.
Lorinda didn’t sleep a wink the night before Franklin left for the cattle drive. Her heart ached, and she heard every time her husband twisted and turned in his solitary bed in the dressing room. Was he as miserable as she was about the quarrel they had? As far as she knew, he didn’t care. She and Mike had never yelled at one another. They didn’t always agree, but they were able to talk it out like civilized people. This shouting match brought up ghosts of her past, when her father came home drunk and took out his anger on her. The quarrel with Franklin bruised her heart as much as her father’s beatings bruised her body and soul.
This wasn’t what she’d agreed to. At least, Franklin wasn’t in the dressing room sleeping, oblivious to the way she felt. She wanted to believe their quarrel was what kept him awake. She wished she had the right to go to him and talk it out, but she wasn’t sure their agreement allowed that. Tears leaked from her eyes, dampening her pillow. When a sob tried to escape, she held the wet pillow over her face to keep from making any noise. She wouldn’t let him hear her cry. She’d learned to muffle her crying when she was younger, because it infuriated her father even more.
Finally, Franklin got up from his bed. Lorinda heard every squeak, every rustle, as he dressed and left, taking the route through the baby’s room. She didn’t hear the drumbeat of his boot heels on the hardwood floor in the foyer. Evidently, he waited to put the boots on until he was outside. Maybe he was afraid that if he woke her, she would continue her tirade.
With him gone, she sobbed quietly, but it brought no relief. At last, sleep covered her with its dark veil, and she relaxed.
Far too soon, Michael awakened and needed her attention. She dragged herself out of bed, slipped on her robe, and tied the sash tight around her waist. Taking a deep breath, she headed into the baby’s room. Then she wished she’d foregone the deep breath. No wonder her son was crying.
Leaning over the railing of his bed, she crooned to him as she lifted him out. “Mamma’s here. I’ll get you cleaned up right away. Then we can have breakfast.”
When she walked into the kitchen, both she and her son were clean and dressed.
“There you are.” Mrs. Oleson sat at the table with both hands hugging her mug of coffee.
The enticing fragrance sang a siren song to Lorinda, but she needed to take care of the baby first. After the two women got Michael situated in his high chair, Lorinda dropped into the chair beside his.
Mrs. Oleson studied Lorinda’s face before she patted her hand. “You poor dear. You look as though you didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
Lorinda breathed out a heavy sigh, wishing her pain had escaped with it. Instead, the knot in her chest remained. “I did sleep...a little.”
“I’m sorry last night was so painful.” The other woman got up and went to the stove. “I was waiting for you to get up before scrambling the eggs.”
Eggs?They didn’t even sound good. “I’m not very hungry.”
Mrs. Oleson cracked four eggs into the skillet and whisked them with a fork. “You have to eat to keep your strength up...and so you can produce the milk our little prince needs. Besides, I’m sure he’s hungry.”
Our little prince?Where had that title come from? Their housekeeper really took her grandmothering seriously.
“Oh, my goodness.” A blush tinted Mrs. Oleson’s cheeks as she brought the skillet to the table and served a portion for Lorinda, on a plate that already held a buttered biscuit and two slices of bacon, and a small amount in a bowl for Michael. “That just slipped out.” She put the hot skillet in the dry sink before bringing a second cup of coffee and joining Lorinda at the table. “That’s what I called Franklin when he was about this age. Michael doesn’t look a bit like Franklin did, but they do love each other so much, just like Mr. Vine loved his son.”
Lorinda took a sip of the hot beverage. Her husband had been raised in a family filled with love. She wished she knew what that felt like. At least, her son would know. One really special thing that came from the agreement. She would just have to get used to things as they were. She owed it to Michael. The knot in her chest tightened even more.
The first bite of eggs and bacon awakened Lorinda’s hunger. While Mrs. Oleson fed the baby, she ate every bit of food on her plate, enjoying the coffee as well.
When everyone finished, Lorinda went to the sink to wet a corner of a tea towel. She used it to wash Michael’s hands and face.
