Bess: A Pioneer Woman's Journey of Courage, Grit and Love by Charles Cranston Jett

Author:Charles Cranston Jett
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction / Historical
Publisher: Outskirts Press, Inc.
Published: 2016-12-05T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Bess didn’t know how long she had been screaming, but her throat felt raw. She was pounding the ground with her hands, shouting, “No! No!” Someone knelt down beside her and placed an arm around her.

“Bess!” the voice cried. “What’s wrong?”

Bess clenched the dirt in her hands and saw that her knuckles were bleeding. “Oh God, no … no … no …” she whimpered.

“Bess, what’s wrong?” the voice said weakly.

Bess turned and saw Martha. It took her a moment to remember that Martha was here.

“What happened?” Martha said. “Here. Come inside.” She took Bess’s hand as she rose. Bess then knelt down and picked up the letter, turned, and walked inside the house with Martha. She couldn’t stop crying.

Once inside, she needed help sitting down at the table because her knees were so weak. Her head was swimming. When she was able to breathe, she managed to choke out, “A friend … childhood friend … died in a fire.” Bess started to cry again. Why she lied and said “childhood friend,” Bess didn’t know. It had just come out. She just couldn’t say that she lost someone whom she thought was her true love.

“I’m so sorry. Maybe some tea would help?”

“Yes, thank you,” Bess said. “Teapot’s on the stove. Coals should be warm but needs some kindling. By the side.” She pointed to the kindling. Tea sounded comforting, but Bess didn’t have the strength to make it. Her mind was spinning and racing. Everything has gone so well up to now—my plan was working, she thought. I have my land and a home. I had hopes of a friendship—or something far deeper—maybe homesteading with Linda. Having her live here. Killed in a fire? The thought made Bess sick to her stomach.

Martha put the kindling in the stove along with a few lumps of the coal that Bess had in a bucket on the floor by the side. It would take a few minutes for the stove to get hot enough to start warming the teapot, and she turned and went over to Bess.

“How did it happen?” Martha asked as she knelt down beside Bess.

“Fire. Letter was short. From her aunt. Must have happened last week.” Bess sobbed.

“Friend from home?” Martha asked.

“Yes,” Bess lied. Again, Bess didn’t know why she was lying about Linda. “I was going to meet her in Bowman.”

“It’s hard to say that I know how you feel because I’ve never lost a friend. But I felt tragedy when we lost our baby. It hurts so.” Martha looked deeply into Bess’s eyes. They were wet and red-rimmed. “It’s all right to cry, Bess. It’s okay.” Martha gave Bess a hug.

“I’ve never lost anyone before,” Bess said. “My grandparents, yes, but they didn’t live near us. But this!” She began to cry again.

Martha gently rubbed Bess’s head and let her cry. It was just what she needed right now, to be coddled and comforted. The water in the teapot was getting warm, so Martha went to Bess’s cupboard and fetched two cups and saucers.

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