Chapter Three
Oklahoma Territory, Late December 1882
Christmas came and went. The wind whipped around houses, toppled a few trees, and the snow seemed never ending. Ropes were tied from houses to barns to prevent anyone getting lost as they went to milk cows. Blankets were put over cows and horses to keep them warm.
Christmas celebrations too place within the families. There was no travel for days as the snow piled up over four feet high. Spring couldn’t come fast enough, for anyone.
***
The wind howled as it rattled the windows, and startled Ayla Malley out of her sleep. She sat up suddenly, and realized part of the rattling was her husband’s breathing. Fumbling in the dark, she lit the lamp and turned to look at Thom.
His skin was gray and waxen, and when his chest moved, it rattled.
“Dear God, no,” she whispered. Throwing the covers back, she hurried to through the living space and to the small room that Jasper and William shared.
“Jasper! Jasper!” she shook him by the shoulder.
“Wh-huh?” he asked sleepily.
“Go for Dr. Belden,” she croaked. “Please. I think—I think—”
Jasper stumbled for bed as she heard William call her.
“Go back to sleep, lamb,” she said shakily.
She hurried back to Thom’s side as Jasper threw on his clothes. She heard him open the door and shut it promptly. He appeared in the doorway of her room and said her name. Ayla’s head whipped around towards him.
“I can’t even see the stable, the snow is coming down so fast, and it’s up to my waist,” he said. “I’m sorry, Ayla, I can’t go for the doctor.”
Ayla gazed at her nephew, and slowly her eyes moved to her husband. The man who had protected her from her father after Regan left, the man who had raised her illegitimate son as his own, and provided for them both. His chest rattled one last time and didn’t rise again.
Ayla stared at her dead husband as Jasper leaned against the doorway, turning his head so she wouldn’t see his tears. Thom was the only father figure he had known.
***
Trixie stared out the window as the snow kept mounting higher. She hadn’t been able to ride to Dan’s for weeks. Of course he knew it was the weather but it left such a heavy ache in her heart to not see him everyday. She missed his dancing eyes and warm smile, and his calming voice. The way he chuckled when she got excited about something. Their conversations about everything and anything, and his stories of New York.
“It’s a good thing we reinforcedthat rope between here and the barn,” Peter said, settling in front of the fire. “Mart was right about those clouds yesterday. I think it’s put down another foot today.”
Trixie tuned out her parents conversation as she picked up the quilt she was working on. It would go over her and Dan’s bed once they married. She felt herself blush at the thought of sharing a bed with him, and was glad her head was down.
“Trixie?”
“Yes?” Trixie looked up, hoping her expression wasn’t too guilty for such thoughts.
“I said, did you double check the feed for the horses and cow last night?” Peter asked.
“Yes, I did,” she confirmed.
“I do love to look at these dresses, “ Helen murmured, as she turned the pages of her new dressmaker book. “Trixie, I really think this one will be just lovely for you to marry Dan in.”
Trixie murmured a noise of acknowledgement. She knew Diana had a lavish gown coming from New York. Trixie wasn’t the lavish sort though, and didn’t care so much about what she wore. She knew Dan didn’t either.
Helen brought the book over for Trixie to see, and Trixie had to admit it was a lovely dress, with a flounce at the bottom, a bustle that would make her look taller.
“It is nice,” she agreed. She tried not to think about what came after the wedding while her mother was standing next to her.
***
It was night before Mart and Bobby could shovel enough snow and break a new path to the barn to check on the horses. The cow was unhappy she hadn’t been milked that morning and Mart had his hands full with her while Bobby tended to and fed the antsy horses.
Jasper and Ayla began trying to dig their way out of the cabin so they could get to the barn. Together, Jasper and Ayla wrapped Thom’s body in an old blanket and carried it to the woods, not far from the house and buried him in the snow, where the cold would keep him preserved until they could give him a proper burial.
Regan worried about how Ayla was faring out on the farm, but he couldn’t take the horses out in this to see. And she was married, he had to remind himself. He had no business intruding, even if it was to check on her well being.
After another day the temperatures began to warm and the snow began to very slowly melt. It was several days though, before Jasper was able to make it into town for Brian, who rode back with him. An immediate burial was out of the question, with the ground being so frozen and snow still piled up.
***
Madeleine knocked on Regan’s door. He called out for her to enter and was surprised to see her.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
She nodded. “Jasper was just here.”
He looked concerned. “Has something happened?”
“Regan, Thom Malley died almost two weeks ago.”
***
Ayla sat in the rocking chair, unsure of what to do. She knew there was very little money in the bank. Jasper would be able to take over ownership of the farm, and he would, but reluctantly. She couldn’t do it alone. William was too young, and in mourning for his father.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Standing, she smoothed down the long black skirt. She hated wearing black. Always had. Her costumes in the circus were always bright colors with sequins and sparkles. Widow black did not suit her and she didn’t plan to wear it for long. Certainly not the several years that society women were required to. She didn’t have the luxury of time to mourn anyway. There was just too much to do, too much responsibility.
At the door was a tall, broad shouldered man, with bright red hair and green eyes, not unlike her son’s. Or Regan’s. Mr. Wheeler or Mr. Frayne, she thought. She hadn’t met either often enough to know which was which.
“Mrs. Malley?”
“Yes?” she answered.
He held out his hand. “Matthew Wheeler. I’ve spoken with you and your husband at church a couple of times, and your nephew is friendly with my daughter.”
“Of course. Please, come in, it’s frigid outside.”
She stepped aside to let him in and shut the door. William looked up from where he was reading.
Matthew took note of the freezing room, even the fire. This house was more of a cabin, he thought, and it was a miracle they hadn’t frozen.
“William, your room, please,” she said quietly. He nodded and rose, and took his book with him. “Mr. Wheeler, please, sit.”
“Thank you, my dear. Good evening, Jasper.” He removed his coat and hat and took a seat at the table they ate their meals on as Jasper replied a greeting. “Please, accept my condolences for your loss.”
“Of course, thank you,” she murmured. What did he want? She wondered.
“I hate to bother you with this during such a time,” he began, “but I know how fast the vultures move when they feel there’s land to be bought up.”
Ayla frowned. Jasper sat up, listening. The balance book of their money had been in his lap as he studied it.
“Mrs. Malley, I’ll be straightforward. What often happens when a widow is left holding the claim, is that the widow is taken advantage of by unscrupulous business men who pay a fraction of the land’s value.” She nodded. She knew that well. “Your property backs up to the very tip of mine. I would very much like to purchase your land, to expand mine. The provision being that you and your family may stay on it, farm it if you like, or not. At no sort of rental fee.”
Ayla gaped at him. “Mr. Wheeler, that doesn’t sound very profitable to you,” she said. “I’m not a business woman but what do you stand to gain?”
Matthew smiled. “For one, I stick it to the men who will take advantage of you. Two, you have a family that needs a place to live. With me purchasing your farm, you’ll have plenty of money that you won’t be worrying about how to get through the rest of winter. If you’re lucky, they’ll give you until spring, then come challenge young Jasper there for ownership. And likely raise the taxes to the point you can’t afford them.”
Ayla sat with her hands in her lap. Jasper was listening intently from his seat near the fire. He immediately suspected Madeleine had put her father up to this. Mr. Wheeler was an extremel prosperous businessman. Nothing came free.
“I don’t know what to say, Mr. Wheeler,” she murmured.
“Take a day and think on it. I do hate to bring this on you at such a ghastly time, but it’s the best way to head off the vultures, and protect your son’s future. I promise, there are no hidden conditions, no strings.”
Ayla nodded numbly. Mr. Wheeler rose, shook her hand and Jasper’s, and took his leave.
Ayla just looked at Jasper and sighed. Nothing ever came free, she thought. Her father had taught her that. So what was Mr. Wheeler’s true price?
***
Lillian was relieved when her monthly cycle came. She had continued drinking the herbal concoctions without Brian knowing, terrified that she might be carrying the child of one of her customers. Once she was in the clear, she stopped. It was risky to meet with Jannie anyway.
They had grown into a comfortable couple. He had yet to even kiss her, but she had always noticed how handsome and strong he was, and she found herself longing for his touch, particularly at night. It was nice to watch him read, or writing out notes, the way his dark hair fell over his eyes, or sometimes he’d stare out the window, pausing in his task. His hands never shook from liquor, in fact, he rarely drank, she noticed. Sometimes she would look up from her sewing to find his dark eyes on her, curious and kind. He had bought her fabric to make a new quilt for the bed and it kept her busy. There was plenty of mending to do as well; he hadn’t been out to his mother’s for a while. She didn’t mind, and he genuinely appreciated her efforts. He was a kind, thoughtful man, she realized quickly, and then she would wonder how it came tobe that their paths crossed.
She wanted him to kiss her, to take her bed with love in his eyes, not lust, and not reeking of cheap whiskey. That would be a first for her.
They talked often; she cooked for him, and read during the day while he saw patients. They walked through town when the weather was okay, but they hadn’t been back to his parents. Partly because of the weather. The storms could come up too fast, and he didn’t want to risk getting caught in a snow storm in the two miles between town and the farm.
Lillian feared it was because his parents didn’t like her, but he assured her that he was not worried about that. She was his wife now, and with that came some respectability. She made sure to stay away from Swegin’s place and never left the apartment over the office without looking over her shoulder, and around.
***
They were walking on a clear, cold day, her arms tucked in his as usual, when Brian stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It can’t be,” he muttered.
She realized he was staring at a gorgeous young woman about ten feet in front of them, dressed in an emerald velvet cloak, a haughty expression on her face. Dark hair was done up elegantly, she wore gloves and walked towards the thoroughfare with her head up.
“Hallie!” Brian called sharply.
The woman turned, her dark eyes hard. “Yes, Brian?”
Brian strode forward, and Lillian managed to keep up with him.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Ben Riker came and got me. He bought me a room at the hotel, next to his.”
Lillian flinched at Ben’s name, noticed by both cousins. Hallie’s dark eyes swept over her and made it obvious she found Lillian lacking.
“Who’s this?” she demanded.
“My wife, Lillian. Lillian, this is my cousin, Hallie.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Lillian murmured.
Hallie gave an unladylike snort. “I doubt it, and I’m not.”
“How did he get you out of the convent? What do you mean Ben’s bought you a room?” Brian asked. “Are you his mistress?”
“What if I am,” she asked coldly. “I heard you’d gotten married, to some cheap little whore. I guess this is here.”
Brian tensed. “If you were a man, I’d hit you for that,” he snarled.
Hallie tossed her head arrogantly. “Please. You’ve never hit anyone in your life. If you were really a man, I might be scared. At least with Ben, I’m not treated like a leper.”
“You’re a whore, Hallie. That’s what being a kept woman is. And Lillian is proof of the damage he does to women,” Brian said softly.
“You think putting a ring on it makes it more respectable?” she sneered. “You're a fine one to toss that word around, Brian, you married a whore, Brian. How often were you buying her services? Hope she doesn’t pop out any unwanted babies in the next few months, you wouldn't know whose it is!”
Lillian flinched and turned her head away in embarrassment, hot tears welling in her eyes.
“Apologize, Hallie.” Brian was shaking with rage.
“Make me,” she smirked. Brian’s dark eyes turned even darker. “Didn’t think so.”
“What happened to you, Hallie?” Brian demanded.
Hallie’s dark eyes narrowed.
“Your father, and your revoltingly goody two sheos family, is what happened. And since I know you’ll want to report to Papa Dearest, we’re living in pure sin, Brian, and loving every minute. We do things that you’d never dream of, though maybe you have with your whore here.” she smiled coldly before she turned and walked away. “And everyone in town knows it now.”
Brian reached for her but she moved quicker, and was uickly out of reach. Brian turned to Lillian, whose tears were running freely. Brian pulled her to him, running his gloved hand over her hair.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “She’s a horrible persona nd has only gotten worse, evidently. Please don’t listen to anything she says.”
Lillian swallowed hard as Brian wiped her tears away. She stared up at Brian. “I thought she was at the convent?”
“Apparently not,” he said grimly. “I’m going to have to go out to the Farm and let Father know.”
***
Lillian opted to stay behind when Brian went to visit his family. She kept the door locked and the curtains closed. When Brian was out in the countryside visiting patients, it always made her nervous. She would have preferred a quiet place in the country, away from the hustle and bustle of the town, and the watching eyes of Swegin. She knew he tracked her. Sometimes she was sure she could feel his beady eyes on her when she walked through town. Even married to Brian, without him around, she just didn’t feel safe.
 
*** Author’s Notes
- A huge thank you to Julie, my editor! As always, she did a marvelous job editing and named the story.
- Word Count, 2,672
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