Laura's Secrets

  Laura’s Secrets

  Augusta Wright

  Contents

  Copyright

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Augusta Wright

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Laura's Secrets is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9982967-0-8

  Cover design by Heidi Dorey

  Edited by The Authors' Assistant

  Printed in the United States

  “Do not go where the path may lead,

  Go instead where there is no path and

  Leave a trail”

  Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Chapter One

  Colorado Territory, March, 1867

  Laura Ralston Brown finished braiding her long blonde hair and pinned it up under her winter bonnet. She studied the red handprint on her cheek in the cracked mirror hanging on the wall near the bed as she wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks. Abner, her husband, was still angry with her this morning for his inability to ride her last night. He had pushed her out of bed onto the cold floor, saying, “Sleep in the rocking chair tonight. You’re no good to me.”

  Obedient to his demand, Laura sat in the rocking chair. Tears streamed down her face as she wept silently, afraid she would bring on more of his wrath. When his loud snoring resumed, she placed logs on the fire, retrieved a quilt from her trunk, and curled up in a shivering ball on the floor near the fireplace. Laura feared she would never see her family again. How her life had changed since her marriage to Abner five years prior. He had been brutal and uncaring for her on their wedding night and the assaults continued. He’d never shown her the least affection. All she ever received from him was verbal and physical abuse of her innocence. Weariness from her daily labors and the warmth of the fire finally relaxed her enough to sleep.

  A sharp pain in the small of her back woke her. She cried out and opened her eyes to see her husband looming over her, face purple with rage. “I told you last night to sleep in the chair.” He drew his foot back. Before he could kick her again, she rolled out of the way, but he caught her arm, jerking her to her feet. He slapped her hard across the face. Then threw her to the floor.

  “How dare you sleep near the fire,” he thundered. “Fry me up some of that slop you call breakfast. We have to get on the road to Everclear by sunup.”

  She rose, wiping her tear-stained cheeks, and began preparing the breakfast. He always ate more than his share of hot biscuits and crispy fried bacon. She breathed a sigh of relief when he left the cabin to hitch the horses to the wagon for their long trip for supplies.

  Laura gazed at the twenty-year-old woman in the mirror, who bore little resemblance to the fifteen-year-old girl forced by her father to marry Abner Brown, a widower with grown children.

  When they had lived in the city with her family nearby, her husband had limited his abuse to verbal assaults and the occasional quick slap. Then one day, Abner announced they were joining a wagon train leaving Independence, Missouri for California. She tamped down the panic and fear growing inside of her. She did not want to leave her family and go with him, but she had no choice other than to follow where her husband led. And fighting him would only get her into more trouble.

  After they left Independence, the trip on the wagon trail was extremely difficult. Neither of them knew how to care for the oxen and the wagon. She walked for miles each day, nudging the team onward. Terrible blisters formed and burst and Laura’s soft leather shoes wore out, forcing Abner to purchase boots for her at one of the trading posts they stopped at for supplies. She was expected to cook on a campfire, and there were few times when she didn’t burn their food. But they ate it anyway because food and water were rationed as they crossed arid areas without rain. At other times, it rained so much they were forced to wait beside swollen rivers, costing them precious time as the summer drew to a close. Fellow travelers said they’d heard California had pleasant and mild temperatures, but it seemed they would never reach the end of their journey. The more uncomfortable they became and the longer the delays they faced, the more argumentative Abner became. She resisted the urge to fight back because he would hurt her. There was no privacy and she did not want anyone to know he was abusive. So she remained quiet. But, someday she would make him pay. She didn’t know how or when, but his time was coming. She turned her thoughts to how beautiful California would be when they got there. The daydreams kept her moving onward.

  When their wagon train reached Denver, Colorado, a miner told Abner about a piece of land he had for sale. He enthusiastically described a well-appointed cabin and barn with gold in the streams. He purchased the land sight unseen and unbeknownst to Laura, withdrew them from the wagon train.

  When he broke the news to her, she was surprised into challenging his decision. “How could you buy something without seeing it first? And why would he want to sell such a wonderful place?”

  He drew his hand back in a threatening manner, but she stood her ground for the first time. “Strike me if you like, but I will know why you changed our plans without talking to me first.”

  To her relief, he dropped his hand to his side, but his glower remained. “I don’t have to explain my reasoning to you, but this time I will. The man said he was lonely because he couldn’t get a woman to share his home so high in the mountains and under such harsh living conditions.”

  Laura sucked in a breath, too angry to mind her tongue. “If it was too harsh for other women, why did you think I would like it?”

  Abner slapped her hard and she fell backward, hitting her head on the wagon wheel. “Don’t ever question my decisions again.”

  With her head still hurting from the fall, they left the wagon train the next morning, climbing the steep track up the mountains to their new property. To her relief, it did have a sturdy cabin, adequate furnishings, a root cellar, and a well-built barn. Perhaps the miner’s tales of gold were true.

  Due to their many delays crossing the country, it was already late into the summer, and the miner had done little to prepare for winter. Abner, showing no care for anything but fortune hunting, panned for gold in the river until the heavy snows of a high-altitude winter drove him inside with little to show for his efforts. Laura kept house, using their remaining supplies to make meager meals, all the while wondering what they would do when food ran out.

  Their inexperience left them ill-prepared for the long months of isolation and hardships. They had not known to chink the cracks of t
he log cabin with mortar to keep out the cold or to chop cords of firewood for the times when the snow piled against the door, leaving them trapped for days on end. Being a city girl, Laura had no idea what berries and roots to pick from the forest in the warmer months. Abner did hunt some, bringing in small animals like rabbits, squirrels, and an occasional deer, but it was not enough to last during the terribly long and hard winter. They almost starved to death the first winter. By the grace of God, they survived—stronger and wiser, at least she was.

  Three long years later, she’d learned how to plant a garden and preserve everything she grew. Even more critical to their survival, the first spring, she’d encountered Willow, a Ute maiden, gathering healing plants for her mother, the tribal medicine woman. Laura heard her cries as a large bear advanced on her. She shot off the bear’s left ear and chased it away from the injured Willow. The Indian maiden’s leg was wedged between two rocks; swelling prevented her from moving to escape the bear. Laura used cold spring water to reduce the swelling, lifting the leg up, she wrapped the ankle with strips of cloth from her collection of herbs and salves she had brought with her.

  They soon became fast friends. Laura quickly learned all she could from Willow about what could be harvested from the forest as well as the healing properties of plants. Willow also taught her how to set snares for trapping rabbits, birds, and squirrels. Laura’s knowledge had been the difference between life and death. Preparation for winter had become the focal point of her existence, with little assistance from Abner who was still sick with gold fever. Willow also provided companionship that enabled her to keep despair at bay in the lonely wilderness.

  Laura had not seen her friend since the past fall when Willow was married off to a warrior from another tribe against her will. They’d cried together before they parted. Laura had told her of her forced marriage to Abner, explaining how she continued to try to make the best of a bad situation. She gave Willow the gold locket and chain her mother had given her before she left Independence. Willow had made warm, fur-lined moccasins and woven baskets for Laura as her good-bye gifts. Each promised they would remember the other forever.

  Those memories of Willow were precious to Laura as her isolation became overwhelming. She often thought of her friend and prayed her life was going well.

  Their closest neighbors were the Wilsons, who lived about an hour away, which, in winter, might as well be the end of the earth. They were as miserable with their way of life as she was. But Mr. Wilson refused to leave the mountains, and his family had no choice but to remain. She prayed they had survived the winter without too many problems.

  However, as lonely as she was for human company, she was never without the forest inhabitants she could see and hear all day long. She loved all of God’s creatures. She discovered she had special abilities that allowed her to sense their needs and earn their trust. She took pleasure in healing their broken wings or raising the orphaned babies she found. They always drew near whenever she was alone—as if to comfort her in her loneliness.

  A large silver wolf had appeared their first spring in Colorado. He lingered at the edge of the forest, watching her. She never felt any fear of him. Why, she did not know, but it gave her peace to know he was near. His name, Silver, came to her as if he had sent it.

  Shaking herself back to reality, she packed the extra bacon and biscuits she had prepared into a basket before Abner returned.

  She dreaded traveling in the wagon. The rutted trail was long and hard for this early in the year, and they would be chilled and uncomfortable on the splintery wooden seat. At least the snow was melting early and the days were sunny instead of overcast, but the wind blew cold. Still, their supplies ran low, and they had little choice but to make the trip. Abner always played the part of a caring husband when they were around others, but she knew differently. She was glad to go anywhere right now since she hadn’t seen a human face but his since fall.

  Ready to go, Laura realized Abner had not brought the wagon up. He’d been far longer than usual. Uneasy, Laura stepped onto the front porch wondering what was detaining him. Where was he? Glancing in the direction of the barn, she saw him lying face down in the path.

  “Abner, what’s wrong?” She grabbed her skirts, running toward his motionless body. She nudged him in the side with the toe of her shoe, prepared to jump back if he grabbed at her. There was no answer or movement. Mind racing, she knelt and rolled him onto his back. Perhaps he’d tripped and hit his head on a stone? She imagined all manner of accidents.

  But his glassy sightless stare told her volumes. She trembled in reaction to the flow of emotions—relief, fear, too many to sort out—washed over her. But what had happened? No lump on his head met her probing fingers. Laura looked around the body for animal tracks then checked his limbs for animal bites although surely she would have heard the growls and shouts had he come face-to-face with a bear or other predator. Finding neither, she listened to his chest. Only silence followed. Her breathing quickened as she stood and backed away from his corpse. She was alone, miles from help with no protection. But she was also free of him. He could not hurt her ever again. What kind of a wife had no grief at the death of her husband? She shoved the miniscule feeling of guilt away. A wife whose husband had treated her more like a slave than a helpmeet. Who took every opportunity to demean her or scoff at her attempts to keep them warm and fed through the winters. Who did not deserve her grief.

  “Oh my God, thank you!” She raised her arms and turned her face heavenward. “I am free at last.” She whirled around, hugging herself. When rationality replaced giddiness, the practicalities took over.

  “How can I bury him without any help?” She could always leave him out overnight. The carrion birds and animals would take care of her problem in short order. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it—even if it was no better than he deserved. But the ground near their home was solid and still frozen below ground level. Digging a grave would take her many hours and was beyond her physical capacity.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the solution.

  Last fall, before the ground froze, Abner had started digging a new outhouse hole. With the old privy about to collapse, he had great plans to build a new one. But, as usual, he’d never completed the task. Little had he known, he was digging his own grave. She peered down into the hole; it was deep enough to prevent animals from desecrating his corpse, and the pile of loose dirt next to it would be easy to shovel back in.

  The perfect place for a piece of shit.

  Laura stood for several minutes, deciding how to proceed. Getting a length of rope from the cabin, she removed his coat and gold watch, dug a small leather bag from his pocket, and then tugged his boots off. The smooth leather under her calloused fingers startled her. When had he purchased new boots? And where had he gotten the money? He’d claimed they didn’t even have enough for a little coffee to replenish her dwindling supply. Struggling not to kick the corpse, she tied the rope securely around his armpits. But her dead husband was a large man, far outweighing her, and the soft, spongy ground added to her difficulty. Halfway to the hole, she stopped to catch her breath and considered getting one of the horses to drag him the rest of the way. But, after a few minutes of rest, she continued her chore. Checking his neck and heart again to make sure he was not alive, she pushed him in, feet first.

  As his weight came down on his legs, the knees buckled, and his butt settled into the bottom of the pit. When she jerked on the rope, his head drooped over his folded body. Tossing the rope in with him, she shoveled loose dirt on top of his head, hoping the couple of feet between him and the rim of his makeshift grave was adequate to prevent him from being dug up. She’d done her best, considering her ambivalent feelings. Nobody could claim she’d left him for the vultures. What would people think if they knew what she had done? Would anyone care how he had mistreated her? Or about the awful things he had made her do?

  When he was covered, she patted the dirt firmly with her sho
vel, pleased with how she had been able to manage. She outlined the grave with small rocks as if he was lying stretched out in the usual fashion instead of crammed into a shit hole. Ha!

  Hearing a noise, she looked up to see Silver sitting nearby watching her with his beautiful blue eyes. “Well, what do you think? Did I do a good job?”

  Silver only looked steadily at her.

  Finished, she picked up his belongings, and with Silver trotting beside her, returned to the cabin. Her winter coat was ragged, and she needed the warmth of Abner’s garment. The boots were too large for her to wear, but perhaps she could trade them for a pair her size or other useful items. Pouring a cup of coffee, she sat down in her rocking chair to reflect on what had happened. She was terrified knowing she was alone now, even if she was free. She had never in her young life been on her own and now she was far from any help. What was she to do?

  Freedom from Abner created its own set of problems. What protection did she have against a stranger wanting to harm her? Well, if she could shoot a deer to feed herself, she could shoot anyone intending her harm. Still, she needed to be smart about who she let know Abner was dead. How long could she keep it a secret? Would they call her a murderer if she did not tell soon? Why would she? People died in the wilderness all the time.

  Seeking comfort, she picked up Abner’s Bible from the table near the chair. She’d often wondered how he could read the good book but mistreat her so badly. When she opened it, a letter with her name inscribed in Abner’s spidery handwriting fell into her lap. Odd he’d choose to address it to Laura. All he ever called her was, “Girl.”

  Laura,

  If you are reading this letter, it means I have died. I decided to write this after I had a bad spell during the winter with lots of pain in my chest. I was not sure if I would recover from it, but I did. I did not want to worry you. I did not know what to do about the situation I had placed us in. I had planned to arrange for you to have the ranch in case something happened to me, but I never did. I ran out of money last year, and my only recourse was to borrow against the land from Tuffy Sawyer at the trading post. A payment will soon be due him, and I have no money. I do not know if any of my grown children would be interested in saving the land for themselves. I don’t see any way for you to save it. When you lose the ranch, you can go back to your family in Missouri.