Hannah Howell (21 page)

“Ye gave me a fright, lass,” he murmured as he sat down next to her. “I feared the bears had returned to the area and wandered up to the house. They used
to do that at this time of the year. They are powerful hungry after the winter.”

“I believe I would have been less upset by a bear.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek. “That
was
a big spider, although I have seen bigger.”

“You must be joking. Spiders are supposed to be small, things you can brush away and step on. That thing covered the whole front of my apron. What kind of spider was it?”

“No idea. We call them wood spiders, as we only seen them ‘round the wood.”

Clover sighed, a little embarrassed now that her shock had passed. “I am sorry. I am not usually such a hysterical—”

He stopped her words with a quick kiss. “Dinnae apologize, lass. No one likes spiders that big. The first time I saw one, I ran inside, got the musket, and shot it. Put a hole in the woodhouse. ‘Tis why I told ye to tell the boys when ye need wood.”

“Have you ever found one in the woodbox?”

“Nay, never. ‘Tis built a mite tighter than the woodshed. Are ye all right now?” She nodded and he stood up. “Need any more wood?”

“I have enough for now, but the box does need to be refilled.”

“I will get the lads to do it afore supper.”

She watched him walk back to the stables and sighed. A glance at the dead spider assured her that it was as big as she recalled, but that did not make her feel much better. Pioneer women were supposed to be a hardy lot. They were not supposed to scream loud enough to raise the dead just because a spider climbed onto their aprons, even if it did look big enough to eat her for dinner. Ballard must think her
a complete fool. She was glad the others were too far away from the house to have heard her.

After rinsing off her hands, she went to bring the laundry in. All the confidence she had gained from her success at breadmaking had vanished. Ballard needed a strong wife, not one who trembled at the sight of an overfed insect.

“Are ye sure ye willnae come into town with us, lass?” Ballard asked as he stepped out onto the veranda, Clover following.

“Quite sure.” She smiled faintly as she watched Shelton and Lambert lift her lively brothers into the back of the wagon. Molly scolded them for their ram-bunctiousness as she climbed onto the wagon seat. “Molly knows what we need from Clemmons’s store, and I should stay with Mama.”

“Agnes said it was just a wee headache.”

“She always says that and sometimes it is. It could also be a sick headache that ties her to her bed. She has had a few since Papa died, although this is the first one since we arrived five weeks ago. It does worry me a little that they might have returned.”

“‘Tis probably just something in the wind or she but needs a wee rest. Our taking the twins with us for a few hours might be all the cure she requires.” He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Are ye sure she doesnae just wish to be left alone?”

“I think she might be a little frightened if she was left here all by herself.”

“Weel, she wouldnae be alone for long. Adam should be back from his hunt in a few hours.”

“I fear Mama would be quite hysterical by then and poor Adam would be at his wit’s end.” She smiled when Ballard chuckled and nodded. “Go on. I will be fine.”

He frowned up at the sky. “We willnae be gone long. I dinnae want to get caught in the storm.”

Clover saw only blue sky with shapely if swiftly moving clouds. Before she could ask him why he thought the weather would turn poorly, however, he was on the wagon and heading toward town. She waved until the wagon was out of sight, then returned to the house.

A quick peek in on her mother revealed she was sleeping, a cool compress balanced precariously on her forehead. Clover went back down to the kitchen and began to make bread. She was just taking the last loaf out of the oven, enjoying the sight and smell of her accomplishment, when her mother descended the stairs. Clover prepared some tea and sat down at the kitchen table to enjoy a cup with her mother.

“Has your headache gone then?” she asked after they had savored a few sips.

“Yes. It was just a little one. Perhaps it was caused by the weather,” Agnes replied.

“It is still clear outside, but there could be something looming. Ballard seemed to think so.”

“Have they returned from town yet?”

“No, but I am not worried. Ballard had a lot of things to do there. He wanted to judge the work of the blacksmith’s son, who has taken on the chores
of his late father. If his work is as good as his father’s, Ballard will hire him for some tasks. Then he spoke of doing a little horse trading with Mr. Potter. For a moment, I was concerned that Molly would be sitting around twiddling her thumbs, waiting for the others, for she did not have much shopping to do. Then I recalled that she has set her sights on Jonathan Clemmons.” She shared a brief smile with her mother. “I am sure our Molly will make excellent use of any idle moments.”

“Unquestionably. I must say, I am not accustomed to being here alone. ‘Tis such an isolated place.”

“It does make me a little uneasy when all the men have gone, but I tell myself that Ballard would never leave us if he thought there was any real danger.”

“Of course not. He would be sure to have someone stay behind to watch out for us.” Agnes took her empty teacup to the sink and washed it out. “And that man of his should be returning soon.”

“He should be, although he has been gone longer than he was supposed to be. He either is having a good hunt or is still trying to find something to bring home.” Clover also rose and washed out her teacup.

“Yes, a man would hate to come back empty-handed from a hunt.” Agnes leaned against the kitchen sink and watched Clover scrub down the kitchen table. “Now that I have had such a long rest, lying about in bed for half the morning, I have the inclination to do something.”

“There is certainly an unlimited supply of work you can put your hand to.”

Clover laughed at the expression on her mother’s face. She knew what her mother meant. Sometimes
one suffered a restlessness that could not be satisfied by hard work.

“Perhaps we could explore Ballard’s lands,” Agnes suggested.

“As the twins have done? Somehow I think we ought to choose something with a little more purpose.” Clover shrugged. “I have never liked aimless strolls. I like to be going somewhere or looking at something, such as a pretty garden.”

“We can look for something. I was asking your husband about what sort of berries and nuts or natural herbs grow around here, and he did not really know. All he mentioned was a patch of wild strawberries in the orchard. We can search for berries and the like.”

“They will not be ready so early in the year,” Clover protested, although she liked the idea of exploring Ballard’s lands for useful plants.

“True, but we can still locate the bushes so that we know where to go when the season approaches. Our knowledge of plants, both medicinal and edible, could be really useful. ‘Tis a woman’s job to know about tisanes, poultices, and such, after all. I doubt Ballard has any knowledge about it at all. I recall some of my acquaintances thinking it was rather common for us to go berry-picking or even to go out looking for herbs and medicinal plants, rather than just buying them from the apothecary and plucking them from the garden the maids had planted.”

“And Alice truly loathed those trips to the forest. Do you know, I have been so intent on learning how to cook and clean and tend the barnyard beasts, I completely forgot about woodland plants. It
would
be helpful to know what is around for us to use. It would also be nice to have some fresh berries this summer.
Of course, I do not know how to make jam or the like. We just picked the berries, then handed them over to the cook.”

“Molly will teach you. Go on, get your cloak and bonnet and we shall go exploring,” Agnes said even as she hurried away to get her own garments.

Clover wrote a note to say where she and her mother had gone. She propped it up against the cooling bread, knowing that fresh bread would quickly draw at least one member of the family, or Molly would see the note when she brought the new supplies into the kitchen. Even as Clover draped her light summer cape over her shoulders and tied on her simple bonnet, she wondered if she needed to wear so much. It was a very warm day and the air was growing heavy. Then she shrugged. Her mother would insist that she be properly dressed even if they were just going into the woods.

“I have brought a little basket in case we find anything that might be useful,” Agnes said as she headed outside.

“Perhaps we ought to wait and take one of the men with us,” suggested Clover, hurrying after her mother.

“Nonsense, dear. Ballard allows the boys to roam his lands freely with no more than a caution. Why should we be treated any differently? We will just walk straight ahead and search that particular section of the forest first,” Agnes said as she stepped off the veranda. “We can explore another part on some other day.”

“It might be a good idea not to wander too far afield,” Clover said as they entered the woods. “We
could get lost, and Ballard seemed to think that the weather is going to turn today.”

“Well, it does not look stormy,” Agnes murmured as she glanced briefly at the sky.

“I do not think so either, but I assume Ballard knows about such things.”

“At the first sign of a dark cloud we will head back. As for getting lost, I have brought some scraps of twine. We will tie a little on the branches of the trees along the path we take.”

“This little stroll is not a recent idea, is it?” Clover murmured and smiled at her mother’s brief, guilty look.

“Well, no, I have been thinking about it for a while, but I did not want to go alone.”

“And I have been very busy.”

Clover set her mind to helping her mother search for plants. It was a little difficult to put aside all her uneasiness about being in the forest. This was no small patch of wood such as she and her mother had meandered through in Pennsylvania. There were no farms within easy walking distance in any direction. She was also a little nervous about what else might be roaming about. She tensed at every rustle of the leaves or snap of a twig and was a bit envious of her mother’s blissful ignorance of the trouble into which they might stumble.

When they discovered a patch of blackberry bushes, Clover lost some of her wariness and became more engrossed in the search. She and her mother exchanged only a few soft words on what they hoped to find and occasionally tried to figure out what something was. It was as if the forest itself urged them to be quiet.

A dramatic increase in the wind finally drew Clover
out of her absorption. Grabbing hold of her bonnet before it was whisked off her head, she frowned up at the sky. The clouds spinning into view were ominously dark. She nudged her mother, who was intently studying a clump of moss, and pointed at the sky.

“That one dark cloud is bringing its whole family with it,” Clover said.

“It certainly does look stormy now. We had better hurry back then.”

As she nodded her agreement, Clover turned to start toward home and gasped. Meandering down the path they intended to take was a huge bear. She frantically tried to think of what to do next, but before a plan formed in her mind, the bear saw her and her mother. It slowly stood up on its hind legs and its loud, deep growl caused them to cry out in fright. Agnes grabbed her hand and they started to run. Clover cursed when she heard the bear thundering after them.

“I am not sure this is what we should be doing,” Clover yelled as she kept pace with her mother.

“What would you do? Stop and have a chat with the beast? Somehow I do not believe he can be reasoned with.”

Clover looked over her shoulder and cursed again. “I think he is gaining on us.”

“I cannot run any faster.”

Clover could tell from the way her mother was panting that she could not go much farther. Since they were running in blind panic, weaving among the trees and constantly changing direction to follow the easiest path, in the vain hope of eluding the bear, they were getting hopelessly lost. Their best hope was to find a safe spot out of the bear’s reach.
Just ahead she saw a thick-trunked, twisted old tree that should prove easy to climb even for them.

“Mama, go up that tree just ahead of us,” she yelled.

“Climb a tree? I cannot climb a tree.”

“Can you keep running fast enough to tire out or lose that bear?”

“No, but cannot bears climb trees?”

“I have no idea, but his size should prevent him from climbing as high as we can. Get up there, Mama.”

Her mother scrambled up onto the lowest branch and Clover quickly followed. She urged her mother to continue on up. The bear stopped a yard or so away, then ambled up to the base of the tree. It stood up and fell against the trunk, shaking the tree so powerfully that Clover and her mother had to hang on to keep from falling. When it stretched one huge paw toward her, Clover knew that they had to go higher still. She pushed her mother up another branch and was just following when the bear took a swipe at her. Clover screeched as its claws tore through her skirts. She hastily finished her climb.

She and her mother clung to the branch and looked down at the bear, trying to catch their breath. It stared up at them for a long moment. It tried climbing and Clover and her mother quickly scrambled up just a little higher. The bear was too heavy and the tree too old. The first branch on which it put its considerable weight broke, sending it tumbling to the ground. It satisfied itself by banging up against the tree as if to shake them loose like ripe fruit, and Clover joined her mother in hanging on for dear life.

“How long do you think he can keep this up?” asked Agnes.

“I have no idea,” replied Clover. “All I know about bears is that they are very big and one should not get too close. This is far closer than I care to be.”

“I wish we knew how to shoo the beast away.”