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  Nathan’s Nurse

  Sweethearts of Jubilee Springs

  Book 19

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  By Zina Abbott

  Copyright © 2019 Robyn Echols writing as Zina Abbott

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

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  Dedication

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  This book is dedicated to Therese “Tarez” Miller, my friend cat-sitter, who, while I traveled this past summer, ended up nursing and comforting my “old girl” kitty in her final moments.

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  Disclaimer

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  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental and unintended.

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  Chapter 1

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  North of Kansas City, Kansas – August, 1881

  D ahlia dried the last dish from breakfast she had washed and placed it back on the shelf. She glanced over at her sister-in-law, Jenny, who, head supported by one palm, used her other hand to stir what was left of her morning wheat mush. Dahlia kept her face expressionless as she reflected—not for the first time—Jenny certainly knew how to play up her bouts of morning sickness.

  Dahlia shook out the dishtowel and draped it over the hook above the dry sink. “Jenny, I’m going out in the garden to see what’s ready for bottling today. Do you want me to leave this wash and rinse water for you to clean up your dishes when you’re finished?”

  “No, go ahead and toss it. I’ll take care of these later.”

  Two-year-old Sarah, still in her nightclothes and soggy diaper, rubbed her eyes as she wandered into the kitchen. “Eat, Mama.”

  “Before you go, Dahlia, would you mind changing Sarah’s bottom, then fixing her breakfast? The way I feel, I’m afraid if I move too much, everything I ate will come right back up. Plus, the smell of her diaper alone is enough to make me retch.”

  Dahlia squeezed her lips tight to keep from snapping at Jenny.

  Don’t judge. You’ve never been pregnant. You don’t know what it’s like.

  Still, if it was up to her, Dahlia would have had Sarah already up and fed by now so, once the kitchen was cleaned, it stayed that way until time to start preparing dinner. Instead, Jenny, over her husband’s protests, allowed Sarah to stay up at nights until she fell asleep on her own. In the mornings, Jenny refused to wake the child, claiming she needed a little quiet time to start her day. That meant fixing and cleaning up breakfast took half the morning—most of it left to Dahlia to do. Dahlia could not help but suspect that if Jenny forced Sarah to wake up and eat with the rest of the family and did not put her down for a morning nap in addition to an afternoon nap, within a few days, the little girl would start falling asleep earlier at night.

  Then again, Dahlia was not Sarah’s mother—she was only the maiden aunt. Right now, with her father in the ground these past two weeks, and her primary purpose that justified her continued presence in the home become unnecessary with his passing, she had been relegated to the position of servant for her oldest brother’s family. Dahlia already knew from experience, if she said anything to her brother, Elm, he would side with his wife.

  “I’ll change her diaper, but feeling queasy or not, you need to get up long enough to fix Sarah’s mush. It is important that I go out in that garden before the sun saps the moisture out of everything that should be harvested. As hot as I think it’s going to be today, I want to get the bottling started before it’s time to help prepare the noon meal.” Dahlia picked up Sarah by grabbing her under each armpit. Holding her away from her clothes, she rushed her niece out of the room before Jenny could offer a whiney protest against dishing up her own daughter’s meal.

  With Sarah freshly clothed, Dahlia returned her to the kitchen, seated her on the booster box, and tied her into her chair with a dry dishtowel. Ignoring Jenny’s frown, Dahlia grabbed the bowl of wash water and left the house long enough to dump it in a part of the garden where she would not be working that day. She used the outdoor pump to rinse it out before returning it to its place and taking the bowl of rinse water with her. That bowl she would keep with her for gathering and rinsing the soil off the vegetables she would can that morning.

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  Chapter 2

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  S everal hours later, along with the rinse bowl and a bucket full of vegetables to be preserved or used in that day’s dinner, Dahlia stood and leaned her back against the outside wall. In the waning shadow on the west side of the house, she sensed the faint stirrings of a breeze. It felt good to rest and cool off a few minutes before she returned to the kitchen. She heard the back door slam shut, and sensed, more than saw, her oldest brother walk toward her. She kept her eyes closed until she knew he stood next to her, his back also pressed against the wall. Elm seldom sought her out for any reason, so she knew he planned to discuss something with her.

  “Jenny says you’ve been snippy and inconsiderate with her this morning. You know she isn’t feeling well.”

  Dahlia opened her eyes and stared across the recently-harvested rows of the garden. “I know, Elm. She’s like she always is in the early stages of pregnancy. But there’s a limit to her treating me like a slave and expecting me to do everything for her. I prepared and served her breakfast like I did for you and the boys. I changed Sarah’s diaper and dressed her for the day. However, I let Jenny know she could feed her own daughter and wash up her own dishes along with Sarah’s, since she didn’t have their breakfast over with when I cleaned the kitchen this morning. I noticed she hasn’t thrown any new wash water out, so my guess is, she put everything in the dry sink for me to wash with dinner dishes.” Or she might have left everything on the table and walked away.

  “You know it’s hard when there are two women in the same kitchen.”

  “I know. You do realize, don’t you, it has been my kitchen for twenty-four years? Granted, I was a child much of that time, and it was Rose and Violet who took care of the inside after Mama died until each of them left to get married. When Jenny married you, I would have happily turned the kitchen over to her. Even though I was only sixteen, I figured out right away she wanted control of the house, but not the work involved.” She paused as she glanced over at her brother long enough to see him wince. “What saved me was, while Papa was still alive, this was his house. I’m more than happy to share in the work, Elm—always have been. But when she gets like this, all she wants is a servant to wait on her hand and foot.”

  Dahlia steeled herself against the criticism she expected to hear. In her brother’s eyes, his wife could do no wrong, even when she was doing nothing to contribute to the welfare of the family. When Elm responded with a soft, consoling voice, she hiked her eyebrows in surprise.

  “I know it’s not easy for you, either, Dahlia. I hope you realize I do appreciate all you did to take care of Papa in his final years. He was mighty disagreeable most of the time, especially the last several months. It was a lot of work, and having you here to see to him saved Jenny from the burden.”

  Dahlia appreciated her brother’s words of acknowledgement. Recognition of any sort for the ta
sk she had taken on, as expected, had been almost non-existent during the years. The fact that his wife had not needed to care for her husband’s father because she had been persuaded the duty belonged to Dahlia probably loomed largest in Elm’s sense of gratitude.

  “But now Papa’s gone, and I’ve inherited the house and farm. By rights, it’s now Jenny’s kitchen, and she’s entitled to it. Perhaps you need to think about moving on with your life.”

  Ah, there is the crux of the situation. Now there is no need for me to spare them from the responsibility and work of Papa’s personal care, Elm and Jenny want me gone.

  Dahlia harrumphed. “Certainly, Elm. I’ll just spread the word out there that the spinster, Dahlia Greenleaf, is now looking for a husband and will entertain all reasonable offers.” Wearing a smirk of annoyance, she turned to her brother. “Tell, me, Elm. What am I entitled to? You know as well as I do, I’m too old to be considered desirable as a wife. It would be fine with me if I could accept a teaching job somewhere. Unfortunately, after being out of school so long myself, I would probably need to attend and be certified by one of those normal schools before anyone would consider me for the job of an old-maid schoolmarm. I know you inherited the farm. After all the years I put in nursing Papa, I don’t suppose there was anything available for me to inherit, was there?” Dahlia watched her brother shrug and turn his gaze to stare out over the garden plot.

  “You know this farm barely brings in enough to pay expenses and keep one family fed and clothed. There’s nothing extra left for something like tuition to a fancy school. I was thinking more in the line of maybe you helping Ezra Wright out more days taking care of his Abigail. They say she has the cancer. The doctor doesn’t expect her to live much longer. If you were there often enough to attract his notice, he might consider marrying you after she’s gone. He’ll need someone to help care for his brood.”

  Dahlia shuddered and turned away. Ezra Wright was a pleasantly mannered man. However, at ten years her senior and having three unruly sons, the prospect of marrying him did not appeal to her in the least. At the time of her life ideal for seeking a mate, she yielded to pressure from both her father and Elm to forego courting young men her age in order to take care of her parent during his final years. Why should she have to settle for being a second wife, expected to finish raising some other woman’s half-grown children?

  Dahlia wanted to start a family from scratch with a man not mourning a dead wife. She did not wish a husband who married her primarily for practical reasons. “He’s nice enough, but I don’t care for that idea much, Elm. You don’t need to share that with Jenny or anyone else, please, because I don’t need that kind of gossip spread all over. It would be disrespectful to Mr. Wright. I gave up what I wanted to do while I did everyone else’s bidding these past five years. Now, I want something better for myself than a marriage of convenience to a widower with children.”

  “I understand, Dahlia. I really do. I just thought I’d throw that out there. In the process of looking for something better, would you consider something daring, even if it means moving away from your family and friends?”

  Dahlia slouched against the side of the house as she considered her brother’s question. Would it bother her to move away from her siblings and their families? Except for Elm and his bunch, she had seldom seen them except when they came by for a holiday dinner or to visit Papa. She rarely had gone to their houses these past years, especially once it became too difficult for Papa to travel. A covered dish of holiday food, long grown cold, and perhaps a short message passed along had been her interaction with Spruce and her sisters in recent years. She had seen more of them at Papa’s funeral, and the wake that followed than she had in the previous five years.

  As for those who used to be her friends—between most of them marrying while Dahlia stayed single to care for her father, which meant she seldom attended church—they had become almost non-existent. The few greetings she had received at church the last two Sundays had felt awkward.

  “I would consider moving away. After all, if we had the money for me to attend a normal school, it would mean I would leave home. I doubt I could find a teaching job in the area that would allow me to return and live here.”

  Elm shoved a rolled-up newspaper in front of her, pushing it toward her as if he intended for her to take it.

  “I bought the Kansas City paper when I was there a few days ago, Dahlia. Read through the matrimonial personals and see what you think. There are a couple of advertisements in there from agencies that help match up brides with men out West. I guess, for men looking to start a family, there aren’t enough women on the frontier to choose from.”

  Dahlia laughed. “At one time, our farm was in the West and on the frontier, Elm. I remember Papa telling me he bought it right after the government moved the Indians off and opened Kansas up for settlement, and I was the first baby in the family born here.” She heard her brother chuckle in agreement, but she made no move to accept the newspaper.

  “We’re considered settled now. However, the western part of the old Kansas Territory that is now Colorado, it’s still pretty wild in places. Even though they finally convinced that Chief Ouray of the Utes to leave the state and settle his people on a reservation in Utah Territory, it’s still considered the new frontier.”

  Dahlia, turned to her brother, and she then looked down as she felt him grab her hand and press the newspaper into it.

  “I’ve already got it turned to the page, Dahlia. The way one agency advertised its service, it seems like the men they represent come from all over. You decide on that one, it will send you anywhere you might wish to go, depending on whose marriage offer you accept. The one based in Denver and run by a woman also looks promising. I suspect most of the men she signs up are from Colorado and surrounding states. I’ve already got both of them marked.”

  Reluctantly, Dahlia unfolded the paper and stared at the page, her eyes drawn to two of the advertisements circled in pencil. She caught a few words but did not feel like studying them closely. She folded the paper into a smaller square and stuffed it into her pocket before she looked over at her brother. “I’ll read it over later, Elm, when I can find some time alone and I don’t have two containers of garden produce that need to be bottled. I promise, I’ll give your suggestion some serious thought.”

  Elm’s concerned expression transitioned into one of relief. “I would like to see you married to someone you will be happy with. You can use the rest of Papa’s writing paper for your letters. And—” Elm sucked in a deep breath and let it go. “You do have a valid argument about deserving some sort of an inheritance. All our siblings do, but you, most of all, considering all the care you gave our father. It’s just that, there’s nothing Papa left but the farm and animals—barely enough to support Jenny and me. However, if you decide to write to one of these agencies and it does look like a good prospect is going to ask for your hand, get yourself some fabric and anything else you need to make a nice traveling outfit, plus a wedding dress. I don’t know if you’ve got your heart set on a white wedding dress, which I hear a lot of young girls want, but maybe you should consider pink. You’ve always looked good in pink.”

  With one eyebrow raised, Dahlia studied her brother. You’ve paid attention to what color looks good on me? She reveled in this moment of closeness, a rare occurrence with her oldest brother. Always the serious one, Elm seldom spoke of anything personal. Yet, he had been mindful of her enough to bring her a newspaper—not just to get rid of her as an inconvenience, but because he knew she needed to broaden her options to find a satisfactory future. She smiled and patted his forearm. “I don’t want a white wedding gown, Elm. I’d rather have something I can wear afterward as my best dress.”

  “You’re a pretty woman, Dahlia. Even as your brother, I’ve always realized that. Get whatever lace, buttons, and trim you need to make your dress and travel suit fancy. I suppose you’ll need a new hat.” He stopped and shrugged. “Put it on the bill at the m
ercantile. I know you’ll make something nice but not take advantage. And, if Jenny says anything after you bring the fabric home and start working on your new clothes, let me know. I promise, I’ll set her straight. You deserve more than what is available to give you, but I can manage that much.”

  “Thank you, Elm.” Dahlia reached down to lift the vegetable-filled bowl to prop it against one hip so she could use her free hand to grab the bucket. “I better go inside and get these cleaned and prepared for bottling. I’ll see if Jenny has anything she plans to make for dinner. If she doesn’t, I’ll slice some beef to have with fried potatoes and snap beans.”

  “Thanks for all you’ve done, Dahlia. I honestly think both you and Jenny will be happier if each of you has your own family and your own kitchen.”

  Dahlia turned to face her brother before he could escape her. “Elm, Jenny does understand, doesn’t she, that when I’m gone, everything will be up to her? It won’t matter if she has morning sickness or not—breakfast will still need to be cooked and cleaned up. Little ones with wet or dirty diapers will still need to be changed and dressed, even if the smell makes her want to retch.” Dahlia lifted the arm holding the bucket and motioned in the direction of the garden. “The vegetable plot still needs to be planted, weeded, watered, harvested, and preserved if your family wants enough to eat all winter. She will need to see to it herself, no matter how she’s feeling.”

  Her brother stared at her a few seconds and then nodded. “She grew up on a farm. She knows how it is.” He heaved a sigh. “I need to get a few more hours in harvesting that corn before dinner.”

  Dahlia followed her brother until he turned one way to walk to the field. She turned the other direction, toward the back door to the kitchen. She looked at the empty table with the dried drips of mush where Sarah had eaten her breakfast and then turned her gaze toward the unwashed dishes sitting in the sink. She would need to wash them up so she could use the sink to soak and scrub the vegetables. She wondered if she would find Jenny resting on the couch with Sarah playing on the rug nearby, or if the two of them had retreated to the bedroom she shared with Elm so Jenny could coax Sarah into joining her in a morning nap.