In this chapter, I dig a little into one of the movie's plot holes. Did you ever wonder how the six kidnapped girls all survived winter on the Pontipee farm so comfortably? Did you ever wonder where they got those fancy, floor-length coats and dresses that looked like they came from a department store? Yeah, me too. But since the movie is a comedy (and historically inaccurate in many ways), I don't think they ever expected anyone to take it seriously enough to notice.
In November, the snow starts to fly...
The night after the kidnapping, Gideon slept fitfully in the barn hayloft. His five older brothers did, too – all miserable in their cramped, uncomfortable new quarters – but Gideon had the worst of it. He laid awake for long, lonely stretches of time, staring at the beams of the barn roof and listening to Daniel snore, until at last, he decided to give up on sleep. He carefully crawled out of their makeshift bed – they were all sleeping practically on top of each other to stay warm – and climbed down from the hayloft to get started with his day even earlier than usual.
Outside the barn, dawn was just breaking over the farm, and the frost crunched underfoot as Gideon scanned the horizon, his eyes hopeful to see Adam riding back home on his horse. Adam had left for the trapping cabin the night before, right after an ugly argument with Millie that Gideon had pretended not to overhear. Gideon had hoped that Adam would come home after his anger cooled off, but there was still no sign of his oldest brother. Adam was so stubborn... what if he really did stay up at the cabin all winter?
A shudder ran through Gideon that had nothing to do with the cold morning air. Ever since their father died, Adam had been almost like a father to Gideon, the man he went to for help and advice about everything. The thought of Adam being gone all winter... for Gideon, it was even worse than being exiled to the barn, even worse than knowing that Alice hated him now. How would he find his footing this winter without Adam?
But Gideon didn't have much time to feel sorry for himself. Inside the house, a lantern had been lit, and he saw movement through the kitchen window. Apparently, Millie was up early, too – and the look on her face was colder than the frost on the grass. Gideon knew that they were still in hot water with her, and when he saw her leave the house and come striding across the pasture towards the barn, he scrambled back up to the hayloft to rouse his brothers. When Millie entered the barn a moment later, the six of them were awake and waiting for her, just in time.
"Good, you're all up," she said, nodding at them, but her tone didn't sound like it was good at all. Her anger hadn't cooled off yet, either. "I need to talk to the lot of you 'bout what you done."
All six of them started apologizing at once – "Gee, we're awful sorry, Millie," "We know it was real fool-headed" – but she held a hand up, and they fell silent.
"Now, fellas, I ain't here to go preachin' at you 'bout the right and wrong of what you done. 'Course, kidnappin' those girls was wrong, morally speakin', but I think you all know that now. I'm here 'cause we need to talk 'bout the practical side of things."
Frank scratched his red head. "How do you mean, Millie?"
"I mean, ain't winters out here bad enough already?" Millie burst out. Her blue eyes were practically sparking with anger. "How we supposed to keep all them girls fed and clothed through the cold months? Adam told me we got to ration food real careful out here to last the winter, and now with that mountain pass closed, we can't even get to town for more food or supplies if we need 'em!"
The brothers were silent for a moment, hanging their heads as a new wave of guilt and regret washed over them. How would their food stores last through the winter now that they had six more mouths to feed? And why hadn't any of them thought about that before? Caleb tightened one calloused hand into a fist, feeling so stupid that he wanted to punch himself. Why hadn't he at least stolen a sack of rice or flour from the general store during the kidnapping? That would've been as easy as dragging Ruth through her window, and far easier to set right later. He could've paid back the Bixbys and apologized for stealing anything, and they would've understood and forgiven him. But Ruth would never forgive him. She was going to hate him forever now.
Caleb wouldn't admit it, but he wished that Adam were still here. Adam would think up some solution to this. But then he shook his head. No, he couldn't think that way anymore. After all, it was Adam's fault that they were in this mess in the first place. They would just have to find their footing without Adam.
"Well, we'll get by somehow, Millie," he said in his most optimistic voice, though he was worried himself now. "Things might get a little lean, but there's still huntin' and trappin' to be had in the winter. We had one winter, two or three years ago, when half our crops failed. 'Member that, boys?"
"Sure do," Ephraim nodded. "That was real bad, Millie, twice as bad as this is, but we still managed. We'll manage this, too, I know it."
"And we did always have to ration food real careful in winter," Daniel said, jumping in, "but that's because we was doin' all the cookin'. We burnt and ruined so much food, anyone would think we was doin' on purpose. But you're such a fine cook, Millie, you won't have that problem."
Daniel couldn't sweet-talk his way out of problems as well as Adam could, but his flattery seemed to work on Millie. The tight, worried line of her mouth softened as she considered this. She had seen the brothers' attempts at cooking – they tried, but they were hopeless, every one of them – but she hadn't realized that was why they used to struggle to make their food last through the winter. But now Millie had taken over the kitchen, and her old job as a cook had taught her every trick about making food last. She knew how to turn vegetable peelings into soup, and half a dozen recipes for stale bread. Some of the tenseness in her shoulders eased. Perhaps they wouldn't starve this winter, after all.
But Millie was not completely reassured. She began to pace the barn floor in front of them, wringing her hands and fretting. "I got just one trunk of clothes in that house, one, and them girls ain't got nothin' but what they're wearin'." She paused and shot Benjamin her angriest glare. "And Dorcas," she added, "ain't wearin' nothin' but her nightdress. Why, she ain't even decent!"
Benjamin's face blushed as red as his hair. He had made a joke to his brothers the night before, about the fact that Dorcas was wearing only her nightdress – a joke that he would never repeat to Millie.
Millie stopped pacing and looked at them again, her hands on her hips. "And besides all that," she went on, "you know what's gonna happen soon enough, with all six of them girls under one roof?"
She looked at them pointedly, but her brothers-in-law just stared back at her, blinking and bewildered, and Millie sighed and shook her head. No, of course they didn't know what she meant. They were backwoodsmen in Oregon Territory who had barely even seen a woman before they'd met her. They didn't know that with those six girls cooped up in one house, soon enough, their times of the month would fall into sync. Then all of them would get moody and touchy at the same time, and Millie would have to deal with that on top of everything else. The long, cold winter stretched out before her suddenly seemed longer than ever.
"Well, we'll make it through this winter all right, Millie," Daniel said, still looking a bit confused. "Matter'a fact, I'm gonna go chop down some more firewood right now." He left the barn to get his axe, and Frank and Benjamin went with him.
On her way back to the house from the barn, Millie stopped at the well. She didn't draw any water, but only leaned against it and wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, tired from worrying. She was still worried about what she'd just discussed with the men, about how they were all going to make it through this winter, but another, secret worry was pricking at her heart.
Millie hadn't told anyone that she was past due for her own time of the month. She hadn't told anyone that she'd been feeling tired in the mornings. But soon enough, she would have to face it: she was going to have a baby. She was going to have Adam's baby, and Adam wouldn't be back until springtime, and maybe... Millie could scarcely bare to think it, but maybe not even then, not after the fight they'd had. In the meantime, she was stranded on this farm with no way to send to town for medicines or a midwife if she needed one. What if she... but no, she mustn't let despair take over her mind, and she mustn't feel sorry for herself. She remembered some verses from her Bible. Those who hope in the Lord shall renew their strength.
Millie drew a deep breath, straightened up, and began walking back to the house with as much determination as she could muster. Her body was young and healthy and strong, and she had always been tough. She would just have to pray for the best and tough it out, that was all. She would just have to find her footing through this winter without Adam.