Dear Readers, A couple people mentioned in response to the last chapter that they appreciated the use of honey to treat a wound. Thank you for noticing! For my stories, I've chosen not to include antibiotics, pregnancy tests, or any other medical things that hadn't been invented or were't readily available yet in the early 1900s. Jack and Elizabeth would have had to rely on the basics of iodine, aspirin, morphine, and a few other household items to deal with all their health concerns. (On a positive note, they would have had Oreo cookies, which were invented in 1912!)
Chapter 8 – Home and Family
Elizabeth woke up with a start. The nightmare, which had jolted her awake from a deep sleep, left her heart pumping erratically in her chest.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to forget the scene which had occupied her mind just seconds before. Go away. Stop thinking of it.
But the images were still there. Refusing to leave. Images of blood. An injured Jack looking at her; begging her to help him. Her standing there helplessly looking at him as the blood dripped from his body.
Stop thinking of it! Damn nightmare!
Elizabeth, now fully awake, reached out her hand, touching the mattress next to her. For a brief moment, she naively hoped that Jack had come home in the middle of the night and crawled into bed next to her while she slept too soundly to notice.
Her fingers touched the cold mattress as she swept her hand across the expanse. There was no Jack. Only the emptiness of where he should be.
The clock on the nightstand let her know that it was only two o'clock in the morning. Elizabeth climbed out of bed, shivering as her feet touched the wood planks of the floor, and made her way to the bassinet, with the full moon illuminating the way.
Earlier, before going to bed, she had opened the window's curtain, preferring to have some light coming in, rather than sleeping in total darkness and without Jack's secure arms around her.
The faint moonlight was not enough to discern the fabric color, but it was enough that she could see that her little boy had kicked off his blanket again.
He was sleeping so soundly that Elizabeth knew that she shouldn't move him; she should just cover him up again.
Instead, she gently picked up the infant and nestled him to her body before crawling back into bed with him. She lay on her side, cradling Jack's namesake against her body to share her warmth, being careful to keep the feather-filled comforter from covering his tiny face.
In five hours, she would have to get ready for the school day.
And wait.
Wait for word from Jack as to when he would be home. Home where he belonged. She needed to see him to know that he was alright.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to come quickly.
For time to hurry up.
Jack was tired of days of being cooped up inside. His time with the Michaelson had gone by slower than he had imagined. Days of lying in bed. Fighting the pain. Dreaming of his family. Praying that his wounds didn't get infected.
Thanks to the care of the Michaelson family, he had graduated from sipping soup in a bed to eating hearty meals at the family table.
This morning, he sat on the edge of the single bed of one of the young boys, and nervously waited for the doctor to finish examining him.
"Well?"
"All clear", the doctor announced. "The shoulder and stomach look the best. But the thigh's looking much better than I had dared hope."
"No infection?"
Jack realized how tense he had been while he waited for the doctor to speak.
"No infection. Make sure you keep them clean and don't pull open the stitches. You can continue with iodine and honey too for a few more days."
"I can go home? I can travel?"
"From what I understand, you've had the train ticket for a few days now", the doctor said with a chuckle as he covered Jack's wounds with fresh gauze and wrapped them with bandages. "I don't think I can stop you if I wanted to."
"I'm kind of in a hurry", Jack admitted sheepishly.
"You still need to get the Michaelsons to give you their approval, and I think they may be stricter than me", the doctor cautioned with a smile as he packed up his simple medical supplies.
The Michaelson family, which had been hovering over Jack for days and nights, had adopted him as if were a wounded and abandoned stray dog.
"But, mom! He should probably stay a few more days", Beth Michaelson pleaded when she heard the news that the handsome Mountie guest would be leaving.
When Jack smiled in response to her desperate plea, Mr. Michaelson gave him a stern look. Reminding him with his frown that Jack needed to refrain from showing his dimples.
"Can I go with him to the train station, Pa?" the younger of the Michaelson boys asked eagerly. "He can tell me more Mountie stories!"
"Me too!" yelled the other siblings, who were fascinated by the man of the law who had fought off the Mountain Man with an ax.
"You all can go . . . if you brush your teeth and make your beds."
After breakfast, Mrs. Michaelson handed Jack a pile of laundry before rushing around to take care of her other chores. He took the folded diapers and put them into his satchel but not before first noticing that some were tinged slightly pink despite having been soaked in bleach and then washed in lye.
He pulled on his thick trousers, gently easing them over the gauze-covered injury on his thigh. The grass stains and dirt had come out of the fabric as had most of the blood. Thankfully, the dark color of the cloth made the remaining stain barely visible.
It was a little harder for Jack to put on his shirt as he gingerly moved his shoulder. But he wasn't going to rely on anyone to help him.
As he put on his familiar outfit, Jack realized that he had been either naked or wearing his host's clothes since he had first arrived unconscious days earlier.
Now, as he dressed in his own clothes and got ready for his upcoming trip, he thought of the new papers in his jacket's front pocket which joined his assignment orders. Typed in single space in black ink were the date and departure time; his train ticket home.
His departure time was in just two hours but he knew that time was a strange entity. When you wanted time to slow down or stop, it raced by like a train. But when you wanted it to move quickly, it seemed to crawl at the pace of a tortoise.
Right now, he wanted it to move quickly like a train.
A train.
That was the thing that was going to get him back to his family.
The other paper in his pocket, beside the train ticket, was the list of instructions from Mrs. Michaelson to Elizabeth; a note from one wife and mother to another. The rancher's wife had insisted on giving explicit instructions to Elizabeth on how to take care of Jack.
"I'm not about to have you get ill now after all the work I put into you", she informed Jack with a smile as she handed him the paper.
"What time is Jack arriving?" Lucy asked Elizabeth. The two women, each with a basket on one arm and a baby in the other, were standing in the grocery store amid the few shelves and bins of food.
"Not until early evening. I'm going to make him a nice stew for dinner."
Lucy stared at her best friend, noticing that Elizabeth's smile seemed to be underscored with concern.
"You okay?"
Elizabeth paused. "I -. I know I shouldn't be worried. But I had another nightmare about him.
Lucy, manuevered the baby in her arm, picked up a jar of honey from a shelf and put it in Elizabeth's basket. "Here, take this too."
"I have honey at home. I use it in my tea."
"You might need more."
Elizabeth gave Lucy a quizzical look. "Why would I need more?"
Lucy took a deep breath, contemplating what to say, before finally speaking her mind. "To treat any wounds. I know you don't believe me about your shivering. And you're probably right. But still, I like to be prepared. My mama always said that the best cure for worrying is preparing."
Elizabeth chuckled "My mother always said that the best cure for worrying is hiring more help."
She looked at the jar of honey in her basket and then reached for another one. "And since I can't hire any help, I guess I'll follow your mother's advice."
"Go slow", Mrs. Michaelson instructed her husband. "No bouncing our healing Mountie over any ruts. I haven't spent the last few days taking care of him just so he could split open his stitches on the way to train station."
"I'll go slow, dear. I didn't carry his unconscious bloody body all the way home just to have him pass out in my wagon either."
Jack accepted Mr. Michaelson's hand as he helped him onto the buckboard. As the wagon traveled away from the ranch, he waved goodbye with his uninjured arm to the Mrs. Michaelson, who stood on the front porch, holding back her daughter, Beth.
Settling down for the ride to the station, Jack thought back to that first day when he had been attacked. He had been on the brink of death, without hope of seeing his wife and son again.
Jack hadn't told Elizabeth about his injuries yet.
He wondered what she would say when she found out. He pictured her curiously lifting back his clothing to help him undress, and then lifting up the gauze on his wounds.
He imagined her looking at the new seams in his garments as she readied his clothes for the laundry. Elizabeth would most likely look at the length of the repairs and mentally imagine the ax coming down into his body. Again. And again.
Her eyes will probably fill with tears as she looks at the wounds and my mended clothes, he thought to himself. But there was something he could do about it. And he already had; he had purposely kept his wounds from her. She never needed to know how bad they had been. By the time she saw him, he would already be over the worst.
The first telegram, which he had the older Michaelson boy send days earlier, merely informed her that he had been delayed due to a problem with his horse. The second telegram, sent just this morning, let her know what time to expect him at the train station. And that he loved her.
"You think maybe you should have told your wife about your injuries?" Mr. Michaelson asked as he steered the wagon towards town.
"Nah. She would just worry. I'm fine now."
"She'll know when she sees you that you were hurt and that you kept it from her."
"It's much better that she's been totally unconcerned about me over the last few days. She'd just get upset if she knew how bad I was hurt."
"She'll be real happy to see you. My wife always treats me real special when I've been gone for a while. Lots of pampering. . . . It's none of my business but I'm thinking that maybe you're not giving your wife enough credit."
"What do you mean?"
"From what you've told me, it seems to me that maybe she's strong enough to handle your injuries."
"You don't understand. She was raised in a very comfortable lifestyle."
"You don't live such a comfortable lifestyle now, do you?"
"Well, no. But she's changed a lot since we first met."
"Maybe she hasn't. Maybe you're the one who's changed."
Jack gave the man a curious look.
"You said she moved all the way to that small town by herself to teach. And she was a hard worker right from the start. Lived above a Cafe. Never complained. Stood up to her family to marry you. Seems to me that she's always been a strong woman. It's you that changed. Not her. You're the one that had a preconceived notion that she couldn't fit into a rural lifestyle and handle hard work. And you're the one that's been changing and realizing that she isn't the fragile woman you first thought she was. You're the one who realized you could be both a Mountie and a family man."
Jack crinkled his brows as he thought about it.
"Like I said, it's none of my business", Mr. Michaelson said. " 'course, I have been married almost twenty years now. I think I know a thing or two about women."
A hour later, Jack awkwardly stowed his bag in the rack above him, and collapsed onto the worn leather seat of the train.
He thought about the fact that he hadn't shaved in several days. Beth Michaelson had offered to help him but he had declined. It was probably silly, but Jack decided that the only woman that would ever help him shave was his wife. A memory popped into Jack's mind, as if he were reliving the moment for the second time in a week.
"I missed you so much."
"Let me shave and bathe and then I'll show you how much I've missed you."
Jack smiled as he remembered the rest of the scene.
This time, with his injuries, he wouldn't be able to pick her up by her waist. And if she wrapped her legs around his injured torso so he could carry her into the bedroom, he would most likely split open his stitches.
Still, he would love to be able to fumble with her panties as she lifted her hips to him. Their mouths refusing to leave each other's as they fell onto the bed, and after days of missing her, he would finally feel her under his weight.
Jack had quickly fallen asleep from the lull of the train's movement, and was surprised hours later when the sound of the locomotive's whistle announced that they would be arriving shortly in Bear Creek.
Straightening up in his seat, his eyes automatically moved from his shoulder to his abdomen and then to his leg. He placed his hand on his thigh, feeling the thick bandage under his pants' leg before sighing in relief. He gave a small smile when he noticed that his clothing was clean; no blood had seeped out of through the gauze. His stitches had remained intact.
As the train considerably slowed its pace, Jack looked out the window and watched the landscape passing by. He recognized the familiar ranches with their cattle and the farms with their acres of crops on the outskirts of town.
He ran his hands through his hair, hoping that he looked respectable, and waited impatiently for the squeal of the train's machinery to indicate that the engineer was applying the brakes.
"Bear Creek!" the conductor called out as he walked through the train car passing by the rows of seats and the occupants, some of whom stood up. Others were uninterested with his announcement and remained busy with their books, or meals, or companions.
"Do you need help, Constable?" the uniformed man asked as he noticed Jack stand up, fumble with his satchel, and then lean on a cane.
"Thanks. I'm okay. Just a little slower than usual."
"Have a good day. Thanks for traveling with us", the railway employee responded courteously as he continued down the aisle.
Jack waited patiently for the rest of the exiting passengers to leave the car first. The last thing he wanted was to be jostled in a crowd and reinjure himself.
The minutes seemed to crawl by.
Elizabeth had smartly dressed Baby Jack and bundled him under two blankets in the pram which her parents had sent from Hamilton. Now that the snow was melted, she could easily maneuver the thin wheeled pram on the streets and sidewalks, and she loved using it to take the baby for long walks through town. As an added bonus, she had discovered that the baby carriage was a very convenient place to put her school books and still have room for the baby.
For her trip to greet the train, she had initially thought about putting her son in the papoose but decided it was too cumbersome to do herself and, more importantly, she wanted to be able to fully embrace Jack when she saw him.
When the long passenger train finally pulled into the station, Elizabeth felt her pulse quicken with nervousness. She scanned the windows hoping for a glimpse of Jack but only saw blurs of movement and a few passengers idly staring out the glass panes.
As she waited on the platform, gently rocking the pram back and forth, and watching passenger after passenger step out of the train and down the metal steps, she began to get more worried that something had happened to Jack.
There was no Jack smiling at her or waving from the train.
She strained her neck to look around the crowd of people moving towards her. She realized that the train was more crowded than normal as new workers were arriving for the Spring planting season and cattle drives.
Passengers, some alone, and others with companions, stepped off the train and waved to friends and family members who were waiting to greet them.
Still there was no Jack.
When the last of the passengers had seemed to depart the train, and new passengers boarded, Elizabeth anxiously fumbled in her pocket for the telegram from Jack. Had she been mistaken? Did she have the wrong train? Did he miss the train?
She frantically looked up at the train one more time and briefly saw a disabled man with a cane exiting from the last car at the far end of the platform. He seemed to hesitate for a moment as if deciding the best way to get down the few steep steps.
Elizabeth turned back to searching her pocket for the telegram, and then paused.
Slowly, with sudden trepidation, she looked up again. Her eyes focused on the man who was more than 200 feet away.
Her hand, clasping the telegram, froze in her pocket and her breath caught in her throat.
He was limping.
Moving very slowly as he re-positioned his satchel over his shoulder and then walking down the platform with one hand on his cane was her husband.
"Jack", she whispered.
"Jack!"
Without another thought other than to be with her husband, Elizabeth hurried down the platform toward him. Cursing aloud as her tight skirt and heeled boots kept her from running faster.
"The baby! The baby, Elizabeth!"
The baby? Elizabeth thought in confusion as Jack's voice echoed down the now nearly empty railway platform.
The baby? Oh, my goodness, I forgot the baby, she realized with a start. Elizabeth screeched to halt, turned around and ran back sixty feet. She quickly grabbed the pram's handle, and started off again towards her husband, who was now chuckling.
Elizabeth, pink in the face from the spurt of exertion, gasped for breath when she halted in front of Jack.
His eyes met hers and he gave her a weak smile, feeling guilty that he hadn't warned her about his injuries.
"Oh, Jack", she lamented quietly as she looked at his haggard face.
"It's okay. Really it is", he said reassuringly as she stood there.
She didn't make a move to touch him.
"Where? Where are you hurt?"
"My shoulder. My abdomen. My thigh."
"Anything broken? Your ribs?" she asked. She still didn't move to touch him.
"No. Just stitches."
"How many?"
"Seventy. Give or take."
Elizabeth reached out her hand and gently cupped her husband's face. She ran her palm along his unshaven skin while she fought back her tears.
"Sorry, I didn't have time to shave. I should have gone to a barber. I was in a hurry to get home to you."
He turned his head slightly and kissed her palm. Letting his lips linger on her flesh. The platform was empty except for a few straggling passengers, railway employees, and the three of them. The small Thornton family. Jack didn't care if anyone saw his adoring gesture.
Elizabeth gave him a loving look. "I'll do it for you. Welcome home", she said tenderly as she leaned in for kiss. "Welcome home."
Their lips touched. And time stood still.
"All Aboard!", the conductor yelled from an open door of the train, bringing the couple back to reality.
"Give me your bag. We'll put it in the pram with your son", Elizabeth offered as she began to gently remove the strap from Jack's shoulder.
Jack, his body unable to decide if it should smile or cry from happiness, leaned down and looked at his son.
Jack's face broke out in a grin as little Jack Thatcher Thornton smiled up at him.
"Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" Jack asked nonchalantly, trying to keep the situation light so that one of them didn't break down in a release of worry. If it were between him and Elizabeth, he had a feeling that he would be the one to fall apart.
"Your son learned to roll over. Sort of", she answered with a smile.
"Sort of?"
Elizabeth gave a laugh. "Well, once. And only because I kind of nudged him over with my toe. But I'm still counting it as a roll."
"You're a strong Mountie wife. Face your fears, undress me, pick up the gauze, and change the dressing," Jack, sitting on the edge of the bed, said with a grin as Elizabeth stood in front of him hesitantly with a washcloth in one hand and a small bowl of soapy water in the other.
She had already shaved his face while he had sat in the kitchen chair with his son on his lap. The small boy had been mesmerized by the white lathering cream and Jack's laughter at the boy's antics had caused him to wince in pain.
After a shave and then eating a bowl of stew, with his son still on his lap, Jack had finally allowed Elizabeth to put the small sleepy boy in his bassinet.
"I hope I'm good at this", she now said as she gently pushed Jack's back down onto the bed and moved aside his unbuttoned shirt. He lifted up his hips, allowing her to pull off his pants.
"You'll be perfect."
"How do you know?"
Jack had smiled confidently. "Because you're my wife."
"What does that have to do with it?"
"I chose wisely. You didn't think I would let just anyone be my wife and the mother of my babies", he teased.
Jack lay flat on the mattress as Elizabeth hovered over him. Her long hair fell down, pooling on his chest, as she gently lifted up the first piece of gauze.
"There. All better", she said ten minutes later as she gave the last re-bandaged wound a quick light kiss.
Elizabeth started to move away but then hesitated. She placed the bowl of water and the wet washcloth on the nightstand before turned back to the bed.
Slowly she lowered her head down towards Jack's shoulder and kissed the cloth bandage tenderly.
"My poor Mountie", she whispered.
Her lips brushed against Jack's neck.
Her fingers trailed along his skin.
She softly kissed his abdomen. "My poor Mountie", she whispered again with her warm breath on him.
Her mouth moved to his injured thigh.
"My poor Mountie", she murmured for the third time. Her lips barely separated from his body.
"I can't move much", he said hoarsely. He wanted her so badly that it ached more than his injuries.
He had just decided that it was worth a few stitches popping open to be with her when she spoke again.
"Shhh. It's okay. Close your eyes and relax."
Slowly. Gently. Lovingly, Elizabeth moved on Jack.
Showing him her love.
Careful not to put pressure on his injuries.
But still letting him know the depth of her feelings.
The sun had set and the bedroom was bathed in moonlight. For the first time in several nights, Elizabeth, her husband next to her, slept without nightmares in the double bed.
Jack didn't want to disturb her but the dull pain from his injuries had woken him. He slowly reached out his arm to the nightstand and felt around with his fingers until he found the two small pills. Not bothering to take a drink of water, he swallowed the aspirin with just his spit.
While he listened to the silence, Jack thought about his orders to his next assignment. He hadn't told Elizabeth about them yet; there was only so much he wanted to dump on her at one time.
Best not to overwhelm her.
Although, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that she could handle it.
Jack heard the soft sounds of the beginning of a cry. He waited a moment to see if the baby would calm himself, but then realized it didn't matter.
He wanted to hold his son again. He wanted to cuddle with a pregnant Elizabeth in a soft clean bed with their son between them.
As Jack lay, breathing easily in his bed, he thought of having Thatch snuggle against him.
Quietly, he moved out from under a sleeping Elizabeth's arm, and climbed out of bed. The bassinet was just a few steps away. He gently picked up his son, relying on his uninjured arm, and carried him with his tiny head on Jack's strong shoulder. Rocking him gently back and forth on the wooden floor planks while the tiny boy made cooing sounds and grasped at Jack's short hair. His little fingers able to find strands to clutch.
Jack gingerly crawled back into bed and carefully lay on his back, resting his son on his chest. He looked over at Elizabeth. Her stomach hadn't yet swelled with the baby inside of her, but it would in the next month or so.
Jack would hold that child in his arms one day. One day that child, a boy or girl, would know the feeling of having Jack's chest moving up and down in slow respiration as Jack held the child securely and lovingly on his body.
"Everything okay?" Elizabeth murmured as she felt the movement in the bed.
"Everything's fine. Go back to sleep."
Elizabeth moved her feet under Jack's legs, smooshing them until she was comfortable.
Jack snickered. "Elizabeth, they're freezing"
"That's why I need you", she replied with a grin as she sleepily opened her eyes.
"You could just keep your socks on, you know."
"Uh uh. I want my handsome husband's warmth. It's much better than a pair of socks."
Jack smiled and reached out for her hand. "You know, we go through the same dialogue almost every night."
She gave his hand a squeeze and met his gaze. "And it's never going to get old."
With a smile on her face, she closed her eyes again.
Jack thought she had gone back to sleep and was surprised when Elizabeth spoke again a few minutes later.
"I saw the diapers. Thank you for remembering to buy them."
"You're welcome."
"They were tinged in pink. It made me think", she said simply.
The guilt caused Jack to frown in the darkness. This is what bothered him the most. That she would worry about him.
"I'm sorry, sweetie", he said quietly.
"Why are you sorry? I didn't even tell you what I was thinking."
"What were thinking?"
"That they were pink. That maybe we'll have a little girl this time", she said sleepily as she allowed herself to drift back to sleep.
As Jack closed his eyes against the moonlight, he thought about time and how ironic it was. Just a few days ago, he had thought that he would never know this again. His wonderful wife and son. Another baby on the way. A job he usually loved. He had thought that his life could have been perfect but that it wouldn't be. But he had been wrong.
It would be. It was.
He had his perfect life after all.
And he was never going to let it go.
The End
Dear Readers,
Please check out "Reversal of Fortune" under the name woolenslipper for a light-hearted humorous story of our favorite couple that will leave you laughing (hopefully), and "Devious Scheme: An Innocent Woman" for a very interesting different take on our favorite Mountie.
