Their Frontier Family

“Hello, the wagon!” Their neighbor Charles Fitzhugh’s cheerful voice hailed them.

“Good morning!” Sunny called, checking to see how her husband was taking the arrival of the two men. However, when she glanced toward the men, she froze. A petite, dark-haired woman and two little girls accompanied them. Her breath caught in her throat.

Noah rose and with his free hand gripped first Charles’s and then Martin’s hand. “Morning. Just about done with breakfast.”

“Mrs. Whitmore, this is my wife, Caroline, and our daughters, Mary and Laura,” Charles Fitzhugh said.

Sunny bobbed a polite curtsy, her heart sinking. Her hand went to her hair, which she hadn’t dressed yet. Fear of saying something she shouldn’t tightened her throat. What if she said something a decent woman wouldn’t ever say? Would they know instantly what she was? What she’d been?

“Don’t mind me,” Caroline Fitzhugh said. “I just came for a short visit and then I’ll be going home. I knew it was early to be calling but I just felt like I needed a woman chat this morning.”

Sunny nodded. She quickly smoothed back and twisted her hair into a knot at the base of her neck and shoved pins in to keep her bun secure. A woman chat, oh, yes—she’d longed for one, too. But after weeks of loneliness she must guard her overeager tongue, not let anything that might hint at her past slip out.

I can do this. I just need a touch of help, Lord.

Soon Sunny was washing dishes in the spring with Mrs. Fitzhugh down creek from her. Nearby, Caroline’s little girls played in the shallows. Mrs. Fitzhugh held Dawn and dipped her toes into the water to Dawn’s squeals of delight. Sunny’s heart warmed toward this woman, obviously a good mother. But that sharpened the danger that she would let her guard down and give herself away.

Soon the two women were back at the campfire, sitting on a log and watching the children play with some blocks Mrs. Fitzhugh had brought in a cotton sack. Happy to gnaw on one block, Dawn watched the two toddlers pile the rest on the uneven ground. She squealed as she watched the blocks topple.

“You and Mr. Whitmore been married long?” the neighbor asked, accepting a fresh cup of coffee.

“Not too long,” Sunny hedged vaguely. The sound of the men’s voices and the chopping as they worked on yet another tree suddenly vanished as her heart pounded loudly.

Mrs. Fitzhugh smiled. “I just meant you look almost like newlyweds. It’ll take a few more years to look like you’ve been married forever.”

Sunny didn’t know what to say to this. Was the woman suggesting that she and Noah hadn’t been married long enough to already have a child?

“Where you from?” Mrs. Fitzhugh asked politely.

The woman’s voice remained honest, not accusing or insinuating. Sunny managed to take a breath. “Pennsylvania. My husband came here earlier this year to find us a homestead while I stayed back with my family.” That was true—the Gabriels had told her to consider them her family.

“I’m from eastern Wisconsin. Met Charles there.”

Sunny knew that the woman wasn’t asking her anything out of the way, but each question tightened a belt around her lungs. She looked toward the men and saw Noah send a momentary glance her way, his expression brooding.

“I’m...we’re very grateful for your offer of help.”

Mrs. Fitzhugh waved her hand, dismissing Sunny’s thanks. “It’s too early to plant and Charles isn’t sure he will put in a crop this year. Kansas is calling him.”

“Kansas?” Sunny gazed at the woman with genuine dismay. All the way to Kansas? Sunny thought of all the miles she’d traveled from Idaho to Pennsylvania and then here. “I’m not much of a traveler,” she admitted.

Before Mrs. Fitzhugh could reply, another voice hailed, “Hello, the house!”

“Nancy! Is that you?” Mrs. Fitzhugh called out with obvious pleasure.

Soon another woman sauntered into the clearing—a big blonde woman obviously expecting a child, with a toddler beside her. While Caroline Fitzhugh dressed as neat as could be, this woman appeared disheveled but jolly.

“I was coming over to visit you, Caroline. And then I heard the axes and once in a while, on the breeze, a word that sounded feminine. I hope you don’t mind me stoppin’ in.” She looked to Sunny.

“No. No. You’re very welcome,” Sunny rushed to assure the newcomer though she wasn’t sure she meant it. “Please join us.” She waved the woman to one of the large rocks around the campfire and quickly offered her coffee.

Two women to talk to—a blessing and a trial.

“I’m Nan Osbourne. My man and me live over yonder.” She waved southward. “Glad to see another family come to settle.”

“Mrs. Whitmore and her husband are nearly newlyweds,” Mrs. Fitzhugh said.

“Well, none of us are much more than that.” Mrs. Osbourne gave a broad wink. “You got any family hereabouts, Miz Whitmore?”

“No. No. I have no family...near,” she corrected quickly. She’d just told Caroline that she had stayed with her family. “And Noah’s family is all in Pennsylvania...too.” Picking her words with such care quickened her pulse.

“That’s hard, leaving family,” Mrs. Osbourne said, looking mournful. “I cried and cried to leave my ma.”

“My mother has already passed,” Sunny said, her words prompting a sudden unexpected twinge of grief. Or was it recalling she was all alone in the world? Why would she mourn Mother’s death now, almost seven years after it? Was it because so much was changing? I’m not alone now. I’ve got Dawn and Noah. Gratitude rushed through her. Could this be proof that God was forgiving her? There was so much she didn’t understand about God and sin.

“I got news.” Nan Osbourne grinned. “We got a preacher in town now.”

“Really?” Caroline Fitzhugh brightened with excitement.

Sunny tried to keep her face from falling. A preacher? In the past more than one had shouted Bible verses at her, calling her a harlot and predicting her damnation. The fires of hell licked around her again. She touched Dawn, her treasure, smoothing back her baby fine hair, and the action calmed her.

“The preacher’s goin’ to preach this Sunday right in town. He says around ten o’clock,” Nan announced.

“That’s wonderful. I’ve been missing church.” Caroline sighed.

Sunny tried to appear happy as her peace caved in.

“I think it’s wonderful that he’s goin’ to preach out in the open like a camp meetin’. Then even them who don’t want to hear the gospel will.”

Sunny posed with a stiff, polite smile on her face. Was the woman talking about the people who’d be just waking upstairs at the saloon? Of course she was. Once more Sunny wished so much that she could help another woman get free of that life.

But I can’t. I’ve got to make this new start work for Dawn.

“You’ll be comin’, won’t you, Miz Whitmore? You and your man?” Nan asked.

Crosscurrents slashed through Sunny. I want to go. I want You to know, God, how thankful I am for this second chance. But would the preacher see right through her? Would Noah want to go? Let her go?

A thought came. Should she mention that Noah had been raised Quaker? He’d almost stopped using “thee.” Did that mean he didn’t want to be considered a Quaker anymore?

Both women were gazing at her expectantly.

Sunny breathed in deeply. “I’ll discuss it with him. I know I want to attend. Do you know what kind of preacher he is?”

“I didn’t ask,” Nan said. “Out here on the frontier, preachers are so rare we can’t be choosy about them. He struck me as a good man.”

Sunny nodded, hoping she hadn’t asked the wrong thing. “I’ll speak to Noah. But unless he forbids me, I’ll be there.”

Both women looked startled at this announcement.