Nichole Harris-Shilo
Nichole woke late the next morning. The pain in her back and legs had lessened, but ached enough to remind her of yesterday’s long ride. The indent in the pillow next to hers, and the rumpled blankets, told her Merril had slept beside her.
How odd.
Her sleep had been so deep she hadn’t noticed he shared her bed. She pushed herself erect and pressed her hands into her sore back. A peek beneath the bandages on her legs showed healthy scabbed skin. Last night, the wounds had been bloody and inflamed.
Amy’s ointment. Merril is right, she’s a healer.
The door hinge creaked, and Jeanne peeked inside. “You’re up?”
“Just now.
Jeanne stepped into the room and closed the door. “Can I help you dress?”
“I don’t know what I’ll wear. I left most of my clothes in Denver.”
“You’ve a wardrobe full of beautiful dresses.” Jeanne held out her hand to the cabinet.
Nichole raised an eyebrow. “Mm. No. There should be a black skirt and blouse in that saddlebag.”
Jeanne pulled the wrinkled garments from the leather satchel Merril had laid across the vanity. “This mess?”
Nichole rubbed a hand across her face. “Well, sh—oot.”
“I’ll lend you one of mine until this can be ironed.” Jeanne disappeared out the door. “But I don’t know why you won’t wear your pretty dresses.”
Nichole used the bedpan while Jeanne fetched new clothes and made use of the water in the bowl to wash away yesterday’s dust.
I need a shower or a long soak in a hot tub.
By the time Jeanne returned, Nichole had changed into clean undergarments. Together, they dressed Nichole in Jeanne’s gray skirt and white blouse.
“Have a seat. I’ll brush your hair.” Jeanne pulled out the vanity chair and picked up the hairbrush.
“Thanks.” Nichole didn’t hesitate to accept Jeanne’s help. Although she could brush her own hair, it felt right to let her friend help her. “Is Merril outside?”
Jeanne scooped up the curls and began to brush from the ends. “No. He left this morning with Tom and Bill. He took the wagon and... his Indian friend to The Shilo.”
Nichole watched Jeanne work in the mirror. “Do you know why?”
Jeanne nodded. “Merril told Tom they were going to bury the bodies—his brother, that woman, and the Indian.”
The brush snagged Nichole’s hair, and she winced.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Merril told Bill to saddle up and head to The Crossing. He’s to talk with Reverend Michael about a funeral service. Bill’s to meet them at The Shilo on his way back from town.”
“The Shilo is deserted.”
“That’s what we heard.” Jeanne glanced at Nichole. “Bill is the only Shilo wrangler who didn’t leave after...” Jeanne hesitated then opened the vanity drawer and drew out a few hairpins. With a twist of her wrist, Nichole’s wayward curls were corralled into a loose bun. Jeanne set the last pin and met Nichole’s gaze in the mirror. “Is that secure?”
Nichole nodded. “It’s good.”
Down the hall, the sound of Hope-Anne’s plaintive cry was followed by June McKay’s harsh shout. “For land’s sake, doesn’t that baby ever be quiet? What kind of mother are you?”
Jeanne rushed out the door and into the hall before Nichole could stand.
Nichole paused just inside her door.
In the hallway, Jeanne took Hope-Anne from Lawna’s arms, and turned back toward the stairs. A storm brewed in Jeanne’s eyes. She cast a brief angry glance at Nichole, and then hurried down the stairs.
Lawna followed with an armful of laundry, her eyes downcast.
June raised her voice. “You shouldn’t help her, Jeanne.” June stood on the narrow stairs at the end of the hall that led to her attic room. “You know she shouldn’t be here.”
Nichole stepped from her room.
June’s eyebrows rose, and she sniffed. “I didn’t see you there, Miss Harris.”
“I could—sense that, June. Please remember to address me as Mrs. Shilo from now on.”
Lips pressed into a bitter line, June bobbed her head then mounted the attic steps.
Nichole spent the day outside with Hope-Anne on her lap, while Katy and Lawna helped Henny turn new soil to expand the garden behind the family bunk.
* * *
Late in the afternoon, the men returned from The Shilo. Tom slowed the wagon enough to allow Merril to step off the buckboard, and then shook the reins to continue to the barn.
The kitchen door closed behind Nichole. “I’ll take the babe,” Jeanne offered.
Hope-Anne reached for Jeanne as soon as she approached.
“You’re her favorite, I think.” Nichole released the babe, picked up one of the clean linen towels from table, and walked toward Merril.
He set his hat on the well and used the hand pump to splash water on his face. Droplets ran beneath his open shirt and down his broad chest. He pushed wet fingers through his thick hair, and grinned at Nichole.
Nichole tossed him the towel. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving this morning.”
Green eyes looked at her over the towel. “I tried. I couldn’t wake you.”
“Jeanne told me you went to dig the graves.”
Merril flipped the towel over his shoulder. “We buried the bodies as well. Reverend Michael will meet us at noon tomorrow to say a few words.”
“I’m surprised you buried Toma. I thought Indians only used burial platforms.”
“Where did you hear that?” Merril snagged his hat and walked toward the kitchen.
“I don’t know. Movies I guess, or old T.V. shows.”
Merril cocked his eyebrow at her. “What are those?”
“Unreliable, apparently.”
Merril stopped before they reached Jeanne and Hope-Anne. “You need to tell me about your other—memories—if you’re going to talk about them. I don’t understand what you’re saying to me. It’s unsettling.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“And yes, Toma’s spirit had enough time to depart before he returned to the earth. He should have been honored by his family, but I don’t know if he had any, or where to find them.”
“I understand.”
He opened the back door for Nichole. “I opened the house up—all the windows and doors.” He followed Nichole through the kitchen into the dining room. “Tom helped me clear out the library. We stacked the furniture behind the bunkhouse. It needs to be burned.” He stopped and raised his hand to his forehead. “I left the log book and ledgers in the wagon.” He spun on his heel.
Nichole grasped his arm. “Wait. Does Tom know they’re there?”
“He does.”
“Then sit. Let me get you something cool to drink. Tom will bring them to the house.”
Merril nodded and shoved his hat to the back of his head as he fell into the chair. “I couldn’t read them.”
Nichole turned back. “Read what?”
“The ledgers. Pa and Kevin used some sort of shorthand. The numbers I can tally, but the notations don’t mean anything to me.”
Nichole left him at the table and asked Cookie to bring refreshments. When she returned to her husband, she sat beside him and took his hand. “Don’t worry about the notations. We can go over them with Jason when he comes home.”
Cookie brought in a pitcher of cool water and a small basket of bread and honey. She nodded to Nichole, then returned to the kitchen.
“I do need a favor from you, though.” Nichole spread honey on a piece of bread and handed it to Merril.
“What’s that?”
“I need a wall built to divide the family bunkhouse. We need to move the Caine family into their own place. Henny and Katy are on one side, and the Caines will move to the other.”
Merril nodded and sipped his water. “I’ll ask Tom and Timothy to do it. I want to take another look at those ledgers before your cousin gets back.”
* * *
The next day, Reverend Michael performed the burial service at The Shilo Cemetery. The service was short and centered around asking the Lord’s forgiveness for the sinful and welcoming the lost into the shelter of His arms.
There were only a few in attendance besides the Reverend and Merril. Nichole represented the Harris family. Henny, Katy, and Bill from The Shilo, paid their respects.
Nichole kept her head down during the short service. The only one who deserved Heaven was Toma, in her opinion. She didn’t know what the Cheyenne believed, but she was pretty sure Renata and Kevin would burn in hell, regardless of Reverend Michael’s entreaties to the Lord.
After the ceremony, the mourners walked back to The Shilo yard, and Reverend Michael took his leave to return to Kiowa Crossing.
Henny and Katy climbed in the back of the buckboard and whispered prayers while they waited to return to The Highlands.
Nichole tucked herself beneath Merril’s arm as he gazed at the ranch house. “Are you going to leave it open?”
Merril kissed the curls on her head. “No. Bill and I will close it up.”
Nichole took her seat on the wagon and watched as Merril and Bill entered the house. She had no desire to go inside. With everything at The Highlands Ranch—the horses, chickens, both pigs, even Henny’s tomato plants now grew in a new spot—the ranch felt abandoned. The only things that remained were the ghosts of people she wanted to forget.
Bill walked out the front door first and crossed to the corral. He checked the cinch strap on his mount, rose into the saddle and shook the reins. “See you at home.” He touched his hat to Nichole and rode out of the yard.
Merril came out just as Bill rode past. He waved to the wrangler, then crossed to the buckboard. He climbed onto the seat, took the reins, and followed Bill onto the road home. “No one wants to come back here.” His voice was low so only Nichole could hear.
“I can’t blame them. The place gives me chills.”
“Luckily, we have some time before the drive. The Shilo herd is scattered, but close. I bet Jim and Lloyd have The Highlands herd buttoned up and ready to move.”
“We don’t have enough bunks at The Highlands for all the wranglers, do we?” Nichole tipped her head to look up at Merril.
“Bunks won’t be a problem. We’ll be driving to one of the railheads.”
“When will you leave?”
Merril’s long silence caught Nichole’s attention. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure when we should leave. I’ve never made that decision.” He was silent as he reined the team around a long rut in the road. “I know there are three stockyards within driving distance, but I was never asked or included in those decisions. I’m a wrangler, Nic—not a rancher.”
Nichole watched the tick along his jaw and recognized the worry in his eyes.
He never wanted this, and now he was responsible for two ranches and a dozen lives.
She curled her arm around his and leaned her head on his shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Jimmy Leigh will know what’s best to do, or have suggestions. We’ll make it work.”
She looked up at his face when he chuckled.
“I’m supposed to be the one who comforts you, Mrs. Shilo.”
“You do comfort me, Mr. Shilo.”