Calico Christmas at Dry Creek

The woman reached over and set her hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “I felt so sorry for you. I sent a tin of tea out with one of the soldiers. I hope you got it. Tea always soothes me when I don’t feel good.”

Elizabeth relaxed. Maybe the woman was just cautious with strangers. Or maybe Jake’s friends had upset other customers by cursing or something. It was likely a misunderstanding of sorts. Annabelle seemed to be a nice person.

“That tea was such a lovely gift,” Elizabeth said as she smiled at the other woman. “I don’t know when I’ve had tea that I’ve enjoyed as much. I had some sassafras bark in the wagon with me, but I used most of it up when my husband was sick.”

Elizabeth didn’t think she’d ever be able to drink sassafras tea again without picturing Matthew dying. Even the smell of it made her feel ill.

The woman nodded. “That tea was from England. We got it with our last shipment.”

Elizabeth thought the woman was going to say something more, but instead she glanced up at Jake and all of the friendliness in her face drained away. She looked worried and afraid.

Jake didn’t see it because he was looking down at the rings, but Elizabeth did.

“We’ll want a gold ring, of course.” Jake was looking at the tray of rings the woman had set on the counter. Dozens of rings were lined up in shiny rows.

Annabelle bit her lip and, when she didn’t move, Jake looked up.

“Perhaps you would care to wait outside while she tries on the rings,” Annabelle suggested softly.

Elizabeth could see the woman had needed to brace herself to say those words.

“Some women like to try on several,” Annabelle added as her face flushed.

Jake nodded, although he looked doubtful. “I guess I should see about sending that note to the reverend anyway. Otherwise he’ll probably leave the schoolhouse before we get there.”

The store clerk watched Jake walk out of the store and close the door before she turned to Elizabeth.

“I can’t let you do this,” the woman whispered in a rush. She had bright spots of color on her cheeks. “I’m a widow, too. I know what it’s like. And he is a striking man. But, surely you’re not so desperate that you’ll marry him.”

Elizabeth stiffened. “I know it’s unusual. And I haven’t known him long, but he seems like a good, God-fearing man.”

Elizabeth saw no need to tell Annabelle about the arrangement she and Jake had made.

Annabelle pursed her lips. “A man like him needs to fear God a little more if you ask me.”

A man like what? Elizabeth wondered. “If it’s the girls. I know they are Indians, but I understand that Mr. Hargrove is not. Besides, I believe we are all God’s creatures.”

Elizabeth knew that was stretching the truth. She wasn’t sure what she thought about God and the Indians. But she wasn’t going to admit that to a stranger in this town where the girls needed acceptance. She owed them that much loyalty at least.

“It’s not the girls. It’s him.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth felt herself go cold. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s a wolfer.” Annabelle’s lips deepened in a disapproving line. “At least those friends of his are. They were in today and, well, it’s no conversation for a lady. It’s disgusting what they do. Even the Indians are better.”

Elizabeth swallowed. “He mentioned that he had done some prospecting for gold and some trapping.”

The woman nodded grimly. “The trapping days have been over for years. Even the buffalo are thinning out. What trappers that are left have turned to wolfing. His friends wanted to put in an order for that poison—strychnine—this morning. A big bag of it. I told them no. As though we’d carry that. They kill a buffalo and sprinkle the dead animal with it.”

“Oh, dear, you’re sure?”

The woman nodded. “I used to think that the one, Higgins, was a good God-fearing man. A little rough in his manners maybe, but he told me he prays and—he even asked if he could walk me home from church if he came someday. I said yes, but then—”

The woman crossed her arms. “Then he started bragging about how he can poison up to sixty wolves in one night the way they do it. And no holes in the pelts, either, so they get top dollar on the furs. All they do is go out and pick up the dead wolves the next morning. With unblemished pelts just like the folks back East want them.”

Annabelle paused and looked a little sad. “He’s got all the money he needs now, of course. But…to die of strychnine poisoning. Even for a wolf, well, I simply can’t condone it. The convulsions. The foaming at the mouth. Besides, other animals die, too—it’s not just the wolves. And, birds. I love birds, even the vultures. It’s not fair to the animals, they don’t have a chance.”

“Oh, dear.” Elizabeth couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t known Jake for long, but he didn’t seem like a cruel man. She had a bit of poison in her wagon, of course. All dyers did. The indigo leavings used to make a strong black dye were poisonous. She was careful with it, though, and always kept it in a lidded jar so no animal could mistakenly eat it.

“Jake lives out there on Dry Creek by those friends of his. I talked to the manager and he agrees with me. I’m not going to sell the men poison. Decent folks are trying to make Miles City a good place to live. There’s talk all the time that someday the railroad representatives will come to town and look us over. I don’t want to be selling strychnine to wolfers when that happens.”

“So it’s not the girls?”

The woman shook her head and then gave a small smile. “Folks around here might shoot an Indian, but they’d spit on a wolfer. If they had the nerve, that is.”

“Oh.”

“I’m just giving you a word of caution.”

“I’m grateful.”

Elizabeth realized she was in trouble. She wanted to help the baby, but she didn’t see how she could marry someone like Jake. Even if the marriage wasn’t real, she would be out there alone with him and the girls—and his wolfer friends. What if they put poison in her tea some morning? She had been willing to die, but she didn’t want to be murdered.

“I don’t suppose there’s any jobs available in town.”

The woman frowned. “Virginia Parker got a job recently working at the saloon down the street, playing piano.”

“Oh, I couldn’t work in a saloon. What decent woman could?”

“I’ll not hear anything said about Virginia. She’s a fine young woman. There’s just not much work around here and most of it’s in the saloons.”

“Surely there are other jobs. I could teach a little school. Not Latin or anything fancy. But I’m good with numbers.”

“The Reverend Olson already teaches school. He even knows Latin. But, between that and his preaching, he barely makes enough to keep body and soul together for him and his wife. The town hasn’t exactly gotten around to paying anyone for the school yet. The parents are going to meet to see what they can do about it. My son, Thomas, goes to the school.”

“I wouldn’t need to make much. It’s only me to support.”

“Could you sew enough to be a dressmaker?”

“If the styles were simple.”

The woman shook her head. “You’d need ruffles and hoops to please this crowd. Most of the regular women make their own dresses. It’s the women in the saloons—not Virginia, of course, but the other women—they are the ones willing to pay someone to make dresses for them. But they want French lace and that new kind of shimmering braid they’ve been asking for. In silver and gold both, mind you. We stock some of the best silks in the world just for them. But, what’s a good fabric if the thing doesn’t fit right? A handy seamstress could make a good living if she knew fashion.”

“I could learn. I’d just need to buy some patterns.”

“We don’t have any of the new styles yet. The owner hasn’t even sent off for them. We have some old ones, of course, but—”

“Oh, well. I suppose I could take in laundry for a while.” Elizabeth squared her shoulders. She’d do that if she had to and keep the Indian baby with her for the winter. “I’m used to washing men’s shirts and woolens.”