Mail Order Annie - A Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Novel (Mail Order Romance - Book 1 - Benjamin and Annie) (7 page)

             
In the morning, after Moran had eaten his breakfast in a dismal silence, he departed for his day’s work, Anne left all the breakfast dishes and the pan of left-over food on the table to go down to the creek to gather her thoughts. The lapping water soothed her fevered brain somewhat, and she managed to pray a brief plea for guidance. She stared into the hypnotic ripples of the pool, and lost herself in the skating of the water striders on its mirrored surface. But she could not shake off the weighty persuasion of Webster Forsythe. His certainty that the beauty and goodness she viewed around her only stemmed from the malicious influence of her own selfish vices that corroded every sight and sound she encountered until they all looked ugly and profane. The conundrum reminded her of an old story she once read about a wicked troll who invented a magic mirror that reflected everything good and praiseworthy as trivial and distorted. Then this troll’s minions shattered the mirror into a million tiny shards, which floated on the wind and lodged in the eyes and hearts of unfortunate people, changing their vision and their feelings to misinterpret the world into its opposite. These people took delight in laughing at the misfortunes of others and hurting helpless animals. They destroyed beautiful flowers and scoffed at the tears of the unfortunate. Now Anne felt the stab of such a shard of glass in her own heart, and the sting of tears in her eye felt as sharp and agonizing as broken glass. She could not rid herself of this warped outlook, no matter how she cried or prayed. Finally, she blew her nose on her apron and stood up, brushing off her skirts, and vowed to leave the valley. She could not think where she would go or how, but perhaps if she walked over to the Forsythe Ranch and threw herself on their mercy, some option she had not considered would present itself. At least then, she would get away from here, and maybe her thoughts would clear.

             
Firm in this resolve, she hurried back to the cabin, planning how to pack up her things, now that her trunk was destroyed. Maybe she could borrow one from Mrs. Forsythe, against her promise to pay for it at the first opportunity. As she neared the cabin, she heard a strange, unfamiliar rustling sound, and she slowed her pace as she rounded the corner. Then, at the front yard, she realized that the noise came from inside the cabin. She stopped short when she saw the door standing open. She wondered if Moran had come home unexpectedly, and trembled at the prospect of explaining her decision to him. But suddenly, the smashing of crockery and the clattering of objects striking the wooden floor punctuated the snuffling, shuffling sound, and Anne tiptoed up to the door to see who might be inside.

             
At first, the lack of light inside the cabin rendered her unable to discern anything, so she stole closer, lowering her head under the lintel and stepping in to peek around the room. A scene of mayhem and destruction met her eyes. The breakfast dishes lay scattered across the floor, with the iron pan turned upside down under the table. The shattered pieces of several crocks from the top shelf above the stove carpeted the floor, and their contents dusted the worn boards and walls of the room. Odd footprints spread the flour dust and sugar in all directions. Only by following the image of these prints in the direction of the lean-to did she comprehend that the intruder must be in there. The door to the lean-to displayed a curious figure that Anne could not identify. She stood in the room for a long minute, staring at the peculiar shape in the doorway of the lean-to, trying to figure out what it could be. It looked to her like an enormous furry ball with two feet at the bottom. The grunting noise undoubtedly came from it, but she could make out no mouth or nose or eyes. Anne decided to take one more step toward it, but before she put her plan in motion, the noise stopped abruptly and the creature froze in place. Then it started to hump itself from side to side, working its lumpy shape slowly and clumsily out of the lean-to. It looked so comic and ungainly that Anne simply stood still and waited until it extricated itself from the doorway.

             
Then and only then, after it completely emerged into the room, did Anne recognize the creature for what it was. The bear turned around and faced her, its muzzle greasy and flour-speckled from eating, and they regarded each other incredulously, as if neither could believe that the other really existed. The bear inspired no fear in Anne at all, appearing to her like an overgrown child’s toy. She almost giggled at it, had she not been so flabbergasted by its presence inside the house.

             
When the bear curled its lips back from its teeth and let out a tremendous roar of annoyance, Anne jumped out of her skin with shock and ran for her life. The bear lumbered after her, bellowing mightily. Anne dashed around the back of the house, but the bear easily followed and even gained on her with every stride. In her distraction, Anne understood that she could never outrun this animal, and she turned one way and then another, trying to decide which way to go and what to do. She could not run to the barn. The bear would be on top of her before she got the door open. Desperate and wild with anxiety, her last hope rested on Moran, and she darted down the creek toward the clearing where she knew he worked. She burst out of the trees into the sunlight of the clearing, her eyes searching for Moran, but she saw him nowhere.

             
She spotted the wagon situated in the middle of the clearing, its empty shafts resting on the grass. The horse blinked placidly at the edge of the creek, tethered to a picket. Moran’s ax and saw leaned unattended against another tree some distance away. Anne slowed her pace, but another deafening roar from the bear compelled her forward, and she sought refuge in the only place available. She scuttled underneath the wagon and cowered in the innermost location between its wheels.

             
Still bellowing, the bear circled the wagon like a shark, now peering under it, snapping its jaws at her, now sweeping its immense paw underneath it trying to grab her. Anne struggled in a frenzy to open her mouth and shout for help, but nothing came out but strangled pants for breath. All her attention focused on avoiding the raking of the bear’s claws, but once the creature succeeded in scraping its razor-sharp talons over the lower part of her leg, rending her stockings to shreds and slicing through the skin. Searing pain awoke in Anne the voice she could not rally before, and she screamed in anguish. Black blood immediately flowed from the lacerations, and the smell of it infuriated the bear even more.

             
Unable to reach her underneath the wagon, the bear now applied itself to the job of overturning the wagon. It propped its massive bulk against the side of the wooden wagon box, rocking the whole vehicle back and forth and raising it up onto two of its wheels. The wheels creaked and groaned with the strain, and the wagon lifted up, casting a ray of sunshine down on the prostrate figure of Anne underneath it. The bear stretched up on its hind feet, holding the wagon up above its head with its front paws, and glared down at his helpless victim. One little push would upset the wagon onto its side and render her completely defenseless. This is it, Anne thought. I’m going to die. This is how I will die. A surreal feeling of time standing still and of watching the whole episode from far away somehow suspended all her hopeless fear. A sensation of harmony and closeness to the peace of heaven pervaded the moment, and she experienced a stroke of divine reassurance, as though a door was opening between this world and the place where God welcomes the dead to His kingdom. She sighed inwardly at her own impression of readiness to meet her Maker.

             
At that moment, a short loud report blasted through the clearing, and the sound echoed up the canyon and around the cliffs of the valley to return again. The suspended moment, in which the bear glowered down at his prey with the certainty of conquest, lingered and extended, dangling like a great weight over the edge of a precipice. Anne stared back up at the bear, meeting its gaze with equal composure. Then the bear dropped the wagon back to its place. The wheels bounced once in the soft earth, then settled down with a wobble and a belch of strained wood against iron fastenings. The shafts knocked against each other. The bear stood motionless, as if considering something in the distance. Then it too crumpled to the ground with a hollow bump, and the same shuddering bounce recoiled through its fleshy body before it subsided into a heap.

             
Anne stayed where she was in the repressive silence. Only the distance trickle of the creek over its stony bed interrupted the oppressive quiet. Then she saw two dusty old boots walking around the wagon. They stopped just next to the bear. Then Moran squatted down and peeked under the wagon at her, his brows knitted in concern. “Are you alright?” he asked.

             
Anne nodded mutely, unable to muster either relief or joy at seeing him. Moran extended his hand under the wagon, and she placed her own inside its big hollow. He drew her out, inspecting her. He noticed the sheet of wet blood that now saturated her stockings, and he hummed in thought. Propping his rifle against the wagon, he lifted her up into his arms, cradling her like a baby, and carried her back to the cabin, where he laid her gently on the bed. He gave the devastation of the room not the slightest glance. He took a clean sheet down from the shelf above the bed and tore it into strips. He peeled back the threads that remained from her stockings and then soaked a cloth in the bucket of water near the stove. He bathed the blood away from her injuries and dried her leg with a clean towel before tying the strips around it. “You should stay off of it for a day or two, just to make sure it doesn’t start bleeding again,” he told her.

             
Anne shook herself from her daze. “I’m okay. Really. I can walk on it just fine, now that it’s bandaged. Besides, it was my fault that the bear came into the house. I didn’t clean up the breakfast dishes quickly enough. I should have known better.”

             
Moran shook his head, still frowning in concern at her leg. “You couldn’t have known. You’re new to this kind of life.”

             
“Thank you for bandaging my leg,” she pronounced deliberately. Then she thought twice and added, “And thank you for saving my life. I don’t know how to thank you properly.”

             
“Forget it,” he barked shortly. “I should have been paying closer attention. I should have got there sooner. I should have protected you from danger.”

             
“You did,” she reassured him. She took his hand. “Sit down please.” She pulled him down to sit next to her on the bed. “I’m sorry.”

             
“For what?” he started in surprise. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

             
“I’m sorry for doubting you,” she lowered her eyes to the quilt, and tugged at a loose thread to hide her shame. “I’m sorry that I’ve been so cold to you since yesterday. That was wrong. I won’t do it again.”

             
Moran shook his head again, but did not withdraw his hand. “You don’t owe me anything,” he maintained. “You have a right to think and feel and act anyway you want. If you feel cold, then act cold. I would rather you show me honestly how you’re feeling than to put on an act.”

             
She could not bring herself to explain to him the reason her feelings had changed. She dared not tell him about Forsythe’s visit. “It was wrong,” she repeated. “I won’t do it again. Thank you for everything. Now, come on. Let’s get up and get back to work. You have things to do and I have a big mess to clean up. I just hope that animal didn’t eat too much of the food out in the lean-to.”

             
Moran looked in the direction of the footprints leading through the doorway into the lean-to. “It doesn’t matter if he did. I’ll skin him and jerk the meat and render the fat. We’ll be dining on heart and kidney for the next three days, and we’ll have more than enough for the winter, too. I mean, if you decide to stay on, of course. And the skin will make a nice warm blanket for the bed when the snow comes.”

             
“Can you do that?” Anne stared at him. “I didn’t know you could eat bears.”

             
“Sure, you can!” Moran brightened up. “Bear meat and bear fat? It’s just about the best you can get! I’ve been thinking of going out hunting for one, anyway. It was mighty nice of him to come down here, close to the cabin. Saves me the effort of carting all the meat back home. I could even make a nice hat from the skin of his head, and you can make all kinds of tools from his bones and his teeth and his claws. It’s a windfall. I should be the one thanking you, and for keeping him still while I got a good shot at him. Now that the danger’s past, it looks to be about the best thing to happen all year. I mean, next to you coming, that is.”

             
They got up together, and when Anne demonstrated that she could in fact move around normally on her leg, Moran went back to the clearing to start processing the bear. A few hours later, he fetched a kettle from the lean-to, and brought it back to the cabin loaded with reeking fat. He placed it on the fire to heat, and made several more trips to bring in the meat and skin while Anne cleaned the house and assessed the damage in the lean-to. Every time she mentioned some ruined item to Moran, he laughed it off, so delighted was he with his prize of the bear.

             
Throughout the rest of the day, Anne appreciated his company around the cabin. The sound of him moving and banging around at the periphery of her awareness comforted her and brought her an unexpected pleasure. Several times, she broke off her work to stand in the cabin door and observe him outside, watching his muscles moving under his shirt and his hips swaying with the exertion of his tasks. She appreciated for the first time his industrious energy and willing dedication to the enterprise of his homestead. To every job he undertook, he committed the sum of his strength and concentration, and as the Proverb repeated in Anne’s mind, he seemed the perfect complement to a woman devoted to supporting and advancing this mutual endeavor. She smiled at him behind his back, and to herself at the notion of yoking herself with him.