Holidays with the Weavers Read online

  Ma did her best not to smile. “No, I think someone threw her into the ditch.”

  “Well, that’s mean!” Gabby declared. “Alfonzo did that to me once. I couldn’t get out and got dirtier and dirtier.”

  “I remember,” Harlan said from the wagon seat. “Took dumping at least three buckets of water on ya to get ya clean.”

  Gabby smiled, proud of herself. “Four! And Alfonzo got a whipping!”

  “He’d earned it,” Harlan muttered as he checked to make sure everyone was settled. He gave the team a slap of leather and got the wagon moving. They had a few miles to go to reach the stage stop, where they could tend the woman properly.

  Ma wiped the mud and grime off her patient’s face, but still didn’t recognize her. Besides, she was more concerned about the blood she discovered oozing from the side of the woman’s head. “I think someone struck her.”

  Harlan glanced over his shoulder. “Robbery, I’m sure of it. I’ll have Mrs. Gunderson get a message to Sheriff Riley in Nowhere. After that poor gal comes to, maybe she can give us a description of the thieving varmints.”

  Ma studied the unconscious woman. “Let’s hope she wakes up at all.” Then she gasped. She suddenly realized who this was!

  Three

  Olivia woke slowly. She didn’t know what hurt most – her head, her heart and at least six other places were fighting for the title. She’d been robbed and beaten, but not otherwise outraged as far as she knew. Still, almost everything hurt. Or was it the pain in her head that made the rest of her ache? She didn’t know.

  She opened her eyes, carefully glanced around, closed them again. That hurt too.

  Aside from the pain, the most pressing issue was finding out where she was. What if the bandits had not only took off with what little she had, but her as well? She moved her fingers and toes just to see if she could. So far, so good. She lifted her hand and sighed in relief when she realized she wasn’t bound. If she was a prisoner, maybe she was just locked in a room.

  She heard something and tried turning her head. Her neck didn’t feel any better than the rest of her. More sounds as she checked to the left. “A door,” she croaked. She turned her head to the right, toward a window with pretty gingham curtains. What band of outlaws would have such good taste? They were far too feminine to be in a bandit’s hideout – well, unless the bandit still lived with his mother …

  The door opened a crack, drawing Olivia’s attention. Three women entered the room and hurried to her bedside. “The Almighty be praised, she’s awake!” one said. She looked grandmotherly – and vaguely familiar.

  “Oh, good,” said another, younger one. “We’re going to get you cleaned up then see if you can eat something, all right?”

  Olivia swallowed. Her throat was dry. She nodded, wondered if she had enough voice to ask for some water.

  The third woman, as old as the first, pulled a chair up to the bed and sat. “You poor child, what you must have been through … you’re lucky to be alive. How’s your head?”

  Olivia tried to swallow again. “Water?” she rasped.

  The first woman hurried to a pitcher atop a dresser, poured a glass of water and brought it back. The other two helped Olivia sit up and drink. She coughed and sputtered but got a few mouthfuls down. It felt good against her raw throat. Had she been screaming?

  “Fetch me the pan of water we brought, will you?” the one at the bedside directed. The younger one brought a basin to the bedside table and set it down, and Woman Three dipped a cloth in it, wrung it out and began washing Olivia’s face. The warm water felt good, even if the woman was a little rough. “You poor dear, are you hungry?” she asked as she scrubbed.

  “A little,” Olivia said weakly. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t want strangers touching her, but at the moment she didn’t care. She hurt too much and in too many ways, and this was the most kindness she’d received in a long while. Or that’s how it felt. She couldn’t remember much at the moment.

  “There, that’s much better,” Woman Three said, then stopped and stared at Olivia with wide eyes.

  Woman Two’s eyes went wide too. “It can’t be!”

  “Is that …” Woman One said, scowling. “Oh my!”

  Olivia finally took a good look at her benefactors. They all looked familiar, but she couldn’t place any of them. She must have gotten her brains scrambled by a knock to the head or something. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Is something the matter?”

  “Land sakes!” Woman One said at the end of the bed. “We know you!”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “You… do?” She closed them, opened them again and did her best to focus. “Who are you?”

  The younger one exchanged a look with the other two. “You mean you don’t remember us?” She put her hands on her hips. “Because let me tell you, we haven’t forgotten.”

  Olivia shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, Miss. You look familiar, but …” She put her hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, I can’t think straight. My head hurts so badly …” But she was starting to worry. These women said they knew her – but they didn’t sound happy about it.

  “Samijo, run downstairs and fetch this poor thing a cup of coffee, will you?” Woman Three ordered. Sammy Joe … that seemed familiar too. But Olivia still couldn’t puzzle out why.

  “Right away, Ma.” Woman Two hurried from the room.

  Woman One came to stand at her bedside. “Do you remember me? I’m Mrs. Gunderson. You and your ma passed through here several times years ago.” She pointed to Woman Three sitting next to her. “And this here is Mrs. Weaver … well, Mrs. Hughes now. She got married again.”

  Mrs. Weaver/Hughes/whatever waved it off. “Don’t trouble the poor child with trivia, Margaret. She’s been through enough.” She turned to Olivia. My family and I found you in a ditch along the roadside. Your wagon was half in, half out of it. And from the looks of things, someone robbed you and cut the harness off your horse.”

  Olivia stared at her, dumbfounded. “They took the horse?” She rubbed her temple. “It hurts so bad …”

  “Head injuries are nothing to play with, Mary,” Mrs. Gunderson said. “She’ll need looking after for quite a spell.”

  “Do you have room?”

  “You know better. This is a stage stop – I need every room I have. I’m afraid you’ll either have to take her into Nowhere or take her home with you.”

  “We have to get home to relieve Daniel and Ebba. I suppose we can look after her until we go back to town for the Christmas dance.”

  “Sure you can. You know enough medicine to tend the poor woman. Land sakes, you’ve been doctoring your family for years.”

  Mary nodded. “True. And I do have room.”

  “That’s settled, then,” Mrs. Gunderson said. “Now let’s see about getting our patient into a clean set of clothes.”

  Olivia stared at Mary Weaver Hughes. She knew the face, vaguely, but couldn’t connect it to the name. Why was that? Both seemed familiar. She looked at Margaret Gunderson as she began to scrub her arms and hands. It felt good, and Olivia closed her eyes, enjoying it. If she didn’t feel so awful she’d ask for a hot bath. But would she even be able to get into a tub?

  Her mind kept worrying at the familiar yet unfamiliar names. Weaver …. Gunderson … Sammy Joe … they were like mismatched puzzle pieces. She found it frustrating. But she was too tired to ponder it further. “I’d like to lie down for a time.” She began to lean back.

  Mary grabbed her and pulled her upright again. “Margaret, drop some pillows behind this poor child so she stays sitting up.”

  “Right away,” Margaret hurried to comply.

  Once they were in place, Olivia leaned into them, but her head still lolled to one side. “I’m going to sleep now …”

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Mary declared. “If my guess is right, you have a concussion. That means you need to be up for a spell. Are you feeling sick in the belly?”

  Olivia unconscious
ly put her hand over her stomach. “A little.” But then, she felt sick almost everywhere.

  Mary turned to Margaret. “Got any biscuits?”

  “Of course. But wouldn’t toast be better?”

  “Yes, you’re right.”

  “Really, I just want to sleep.” Olivia protested. She was so tired …

  “No, you’re going to have some coffee and toast,” Mary insisted. “You need it.”

  Olivia blinked at them a few times as her mind wandered. “Where’s Jonathan?” Wait, where did that come from?

  The older women exchanged a look. “Jonathan?” Margaret echoed. “Is he a family member?”

  “I … think so?”

  “She’s got a concussion, all right,” Mary grumbled. For all the care she’d shown, she was still looking at Olivia suspiciously.

  Olivia’s stomach rumbled. Oh, she was hungry. Ignoring the two women, she looked down, which was a mistake. She listed to her left, blacking out before someone could right her again.

  * * *

  “Well, that’s just dandy, Mary,” Margaret said. “She done fainted.”

  “The poor thing is tuckered out, but I don’t want her sleeping yet.” She patted Olivia’s cheek. “Hello?”

  Margaret folded her hands in her lap. “I’m right, aren’t I? This woman did come through here with her ma years ago?”

  “Yep. This here is Olivia Bridger. No, wait – she married Samijo’s uncle. Named Burr, if I remember right.”

  Margaret gasped. “What?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that story?” Mary chastised. “For Heaven’s sake, it was only the best piece of gossip that ever passed through here.”

  Margaret tapped her head. “My memory ain’t what it used to be?”

  Mary rolled her eyes and tapped her own temple. “That makes two of us, but never mind. What’s she doing back in Nowhere?”

  Margaret looked over the unconscious form. “I have no idea. But she and her family always caused a ruckus – I remember that now.”

  “I never forgot it,” Mary quipped. “This girl is one unpleasant individual.”

  “She doesn’t seem to recognize us. Do you think she’s forgotten?”

  “Hardly. Especially after she was forced to marry Samijo’s horrid uncle.”

  “Wait, but wasn’t he carted off to jail by Sheriff Turner? Well, Deputy Turner back then.”

  “You’re right. You don’t suppose he’s out, do you?”

  “Land sakes, that must be it,” Margaret said. “Maybe she’s on her way to fetch him. You don’t think they’d settle in Nowhere, do you?”

  “Seems unlikely. Perhaps he was supposed to meet her someplace.”

  Margaret sighed. “Heaven help us if that family returns! What an awful bunch.”

  “Well, this one won’t be any trouble in the condition she’s in. I can’t say the same for her husband, especially if he’s just out of prison. He won’t be happy to see me or my family, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh, Mary, you poor dear. But you’re right, he’d blow a boiler at the sight of you.”

  “Are you sure you can’t keep her?” Mary asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “I done told you I can’t. There’s a stage coming in tonight and I’ll be full-up between them and all of you. And you know folks come through here in herds during the holidays – well, as weather permits.”

  “Herds?” Mary was amused by the choice of word.

  “You know what I mean. Lots of folks in lots of places have kin coming for Christmas.”

  “You’re right.” Mary turned back to Olivia and put a wet cloth on her forehead. “Someone’s going to have to keep an eye on her.”

  “You know best about these things,” Margaret said. “I’m afraid I can’t help much. I have guests to take care of.”

  “Don’t worry, there’s enough of us to see the job done. Provided she doesn’t cause trouble like she used to.”

  Margaret stood, moved the basin of dirty water to the dresser and stretched. “Land sakes, I could do with a rest myself. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  Samijo reentered, a cup of coffee in her hand. “I’m sorry it took so long, but some of the children got into an argument downstairs.”

  “Rufi’s supposed to be keeping them under control.” Mary rubbed her tired eyes. “But with Bella here, Rufi probably wandered off. That girl.”

  “Don’t be hard on her, Mary,” Margaret said. “She’s a grown woman – she’s bound to have other things on her mind than looking after all her brothers and sisters.”

  Samijo sighed. “She’s right, Ma. Rufi’s really looking forward to the Christmas dance.”

  Mary frowned. “She was bound to notice boys at some point.”

  “Boys?” Margaret rolled of her eyes. “That young lady is ready for a husband, if you ask me.”

  Samijo held up a hand as if to stop her words. “Don’t even suggest it. Especially around Calvin and Bella – they both think she’s too young to marry.”

  “Nonsense – she’s eighteen now, isn’t she?” Margaret asked.

  “I know, but please don’t bring it up to Calvin or Bella.” Samijo looked at Olivia. “This will be upsetting enough when they find out.”

  “You didn’t tell them?” Mary asked.

  She shook her head. “Not even Arlan. Not that I could – he’s out tending the horses.”

  Mary sighed. “Well, we might as well go downstairs and get this over with. That boy of mine will be fit to be tied when he finds out who we have up here.”

  “Arlan?” Samijo laughed. “As opposed to Calvin or Benjamin?”

  Mary rubbed her temples. “The whole family. What a time that was.” She took another look at Olivia Bridger and shook her head. “It’s a good thing you’re not awake, child. By the time you do wake up, maybe my boys will be calm enough not to want to hang you and that husband of yours from the nearest tree.”

  * * *

  “WHAT?!” Arlan said in shock.

  “Now calm down,” Ma said as she got up from the kitchen table. “The girl’s been through enough. If the law has released her husband, if he’s paid his debt, who are we to stand in their way?”

  “He better have paid it,” Calvin snorted, folding his arms.

  “Who is this woman?” Bella asked. “And why are you all so upset?”

  “I met Olivia Bridger right after Arlan and I first married,” said Samijo. “At this very stage stop.”

  “She’d set her cap for Arlan and showed up at the farm one day,” Benjamin added.

  “Yeah,” Calvin said. “And caused us nothing but trouble from then on.”

  “My uncle isn’t the most savory of individuals,” Samijo stated. “He also showed up, ran across Olivia at some point and together they conspired to get rid of Arlan so that Uncle Burr could marry me.”

  “They … they did what?” Charity sputtered in shock. “Can that even be done?”

  “They tried,” Ma said. “But Deputy Turner showed up and arrested the lot of them.”

  “Wait,” Charity said. “You mean there was more than Samijo’s uncle and that woman involved?”

  “An outlaw in the area got mixed up in it,” Arlan explained.

  “What happened then?” Isabella asked.

  Arlan smiled and glanced at his brothers. “Well, as it turned out, Miss Bridger was forced to marry Samijo’s uncle at gunpoint by her father.”

  “What?” Charity put her hand to her temple. “Let me get this straight … a preacher was there too?”

  Samijo sighed. “Uncle Burr brought the preacher from Nowhere to the farm so he could marry the two of us.”

  “After he shot me, of course,” Arlan tacked on.

  Charity and Bella gasped. “Porca miseria – that’s terrible,” Bella cried.

  “Indeed it was,” Ma commented. “But it’s all in the past. Right now it looks like Olivia needs our help. It doesn’t matter how any of us feels about her or what she did. If
we don’t aid her, she’ll be in a bad way.”

  “Why cain’t Mrs. Gunderson keep her?” Calvin asked.

  “She doesn’t have the room, or the time. We do – there’s plenty of us to look after her. When her husband comes through – if he does – Margaret can tell him she’s with us. He can fetch her and they can be on their way.”

  Arlan grunted. “I don’t like it, Ma. But it is the right thing to do.”

  “Can we still toss Samijo’s uncle down the well when he shows up?” Calvin asked.

  “Tarnation, brother,” Benjamin snapped. “Are ya out of yer mind? Taint our water with the likes of him?”

  Arlan laughed. “He’s right Cal. I wouldn’t put that low-down dirty…”

  “That’s enough,” Ma said. “Now you boys need to get past your hard feelings, pull yourselves together and do what’s right for her, whether she deserves it or not.”

  Arlan and his brothers grumbled but nodded in agreement. “Did she tell ya what happened to her, Ma?” Arlan asked.

  “No.” She paced to the sink and back. “She could barely talk at all. Didn’t even remember who we were.”

  “She don’t?” Arlan said in surprise.

  “No. She got a good rap on the head, scrambled her noggin but good.”

  Arlan nodded. “Right, then. Which of us has to watch her first?”

  “I’ll do it,” Charity offered.

  “That’s mighty kind of you, Charity,” Ma told her. “After you introduce yourself, she’ll hopefully remember who you are. Lord knows what she’ll do when she remembers who we are.”

  “I hope it’s not too much of a shock,” Samijo said.

  “Just how bad was this woman?” Bella asked.

  “Ya don’t wanna know, honey,” Calvin said. “I’d rather rassle a bear then have to deal with the likes of Olivia Bridger again.”

  “Yeah, and ya weren’t even the one she tried to get her hooks into.” Arlan shuddered. “Horrible woman.”

  “Horrible or not, she needs our help.” Charity went to the stove, poured a fresh cup of coffee

  and set it on a tray with two slices of toast. She picked it up and headed for the door. “Bella, maybe you’d better take the shift after mine. She doesn’t know us.”