Fergus' Honor (Grooms With Honor Book 2) Read online

  Fergus’ Honor

  Grooms with Honor Series, Book 2

  Copyright © 2017 by Linda K. Hubalek

  Published by Butterfield Books Inc.

  Printed Book ISBN-978-1545230879

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017905561

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Except for the history of Kansas mentioned in the book, the names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Fergus and Iris

  I always picture my characters, either imaginative or from real images, when I write my books. For the Grooms with Honor series I’m using couples I found in my great-grandparent’s photo album, dating back to the early 1880s to early 1900s period. My great-grandparents were born in Sweden, moved to Kansas, and married in 1892.

  There are no names written on the back of these photographs, and I don’t recognize them as any of my relatives. So this photo, plus others I will be using for other books in the series, features the wedding portrait of some of their friends. (There was no need to write their names on the photos since my great-grandparents knew them, and I’m sure they didn’t think their great-granddaughter would be trying to identify them more than a hundred years later.)

  These couples don’t look like our modern-day cover models (men with rippling muscles and women with flawless makeup) but they show real couples starting their new life together as husband and wife during the same time period as the couples in my Grooms with Honor series.

  So while you’re reading Fergus’ Honor, you can pretend this wedding portrait is of Fergus Reagan and Iris Kerns in 1886. Hopefully I’ve given them a good start in their married life of love and trust.

  I thought of this Irish blessing when writing Fergus and Iris’ story.

  Always remember to forget

  The things that made you sad.

  But never forget to remember

  The things that made you glad.

  Chapter 1

  Fall 1886

  Nebraska countryside

  “Hold steady, hold steady…steady…wait for it...”

  Fergus Reagan talked to himself as the steam locomotive neared the bridge to cross the river. He’d set up his camera on the tripod an hour ago, waiting for this photo. The evening was cloudy, showing off the sunset colors contrasting perfectly for the black and white still photograph of the train crossing the span of bridge crossing the Republican River. He'd checked from other directions and angles of the bridge, but this would make the best photograph.

  The black smoke coming out of the smoke stack was perfectly above and parallel to the train cars behind it. He wanted to squeeze the shutter the moment most of the train was in sight.

  One...two...three!

  Just as he squeezed the bulb, a person fell off the back steps of a passenger car, and then seconds later plunged through the surface of the river below.

  "What?! No!" Fergus yelled in shock. He tore off running to cover the forty yards between the camera and the riverbank. "Oh Lord! Lord! Lord!"

  If he wasn't a preacher's son he'd be yelling worse, but he needed help to save whoever just fell off the train. Or was someone thrown, pushed?

  Fergus gasped for air as he stumbled down the bank of the river trying to keep track of a large cloak as it floated toward the pilings of the bridge.

  The train continued its way along the tracks, oblivious to the fact it had just lost a passenger.

  Wait, was he panicking over a person in the water, or a woman's cloak someone accidently lost while out on the platform looking at the scenery?

  The cloak rolled into a swirl of caught material when it snagged on the rough timber holding the bridge up. Then a woman’s body floated in the murky river water, still connected to the cloak tied around the person's neck.

  "Dear God! Help her and me!" Fergus yelled as he jumped into the water, trying not to do a belly flop, but getting as far out into the river as he could. He had no idea how deep the river was, if there were sand bars and quick sand churning below the murky waters.

  His right foot hit the bottom and he pushed up. The river wasn't deep, maybe six to seven foot here, so the woman could have hit bottom and broken her neck if she went into the water headfirst.

  Fergus stroked and kicked to the bridge, while his own coat, clothes, and boots hampered his speed. The freezing water wasn't helping either of them.

  Fergus wrapped his legs around the bridge piling and reached for the cloak at the same time. The weight of the heavy wool material fought his trying to yank it closer to reach the woman still tethered to the neck of the cloak. Now he hoped the material kept hold of the woman so she didn't float on and he wasn’t tangled in the cloth.

  The woman's body flipped face up as he pulled but her arms and legs weren't moving.

  "Lady! Come on! Kick your legs, do something!"

  Another tug and Fergus was able to grab her lifeless arm, pulling the woman against his chest so he could gulp in air. So now, he hugged the piling with his legs and hugged a woman with his arms. Her head was limp against his shoulder and he wasn't sure she was breathing.

  Where were one or all five of his brothers when he needed them?

  Fergus was going to have to let go of the timber and swim to the bank or they'd both die from hypothermia. He said a quick prayer and pushed off the piling, trying to swim sideways while keeping an arm wrapped around the woman's shoulders. At least she wasn't fighting him which would make the situation even worse.

  Thank God it wasn't a wide river or he wouldn't have made it. His feet sunk in mud as he tried to climb up the steep bank. He was still up to his waist in water but he was at a place where he could push the mass of cloak and woman up onto the bank. Hopefully the tangled ribbon around her neck didn't choke her in the process of pulling her out.

  Fergus jerked one booted foot, then the other out of the mud and pulled himself out of the water by grabbing on to the dead clumps of weeds and grass edging the bank.

  He rolled over on his back and gulped in air to refill his strained lungs. There were a few minutes he wasn't sure if he'd ever see the sky again.

  Fergus turned his head to look at the woman sprawled beside him. Did she jump, or was she thrown off the train? He'd never know since she wasn't breathing. And he could have died trying to save her. Who knows when someone would have found their bodies tangled in the bridge timbers?

  Fergus' back jumped off the ground when a gasp and a gurgle escaped from the woman's mouth. He scrambled to his knees and pushed her onto her side facing him, pounding on her back to clear her lungs of water. She vomited river water, pulled air into her lungs, and then coughed up more water. Her eyes squeezed tight but didn't open.

  "Lady, breathe deep and wake up. Talk to me, please!"

  Fergus rubbed her back as shivers took over her body and his. Fergus had to get her over to his wagon and get them both warmed up, but first he'd get this danged cloak off her. He pulled on the end of the ribbon but his cold, numb big fingers weren't making any progress. Fergus dug in his vest pocket for his pocketknife to cut th
e ribbon, realizing his watch and everything in his pockets were soaked. At least they were still alive.

  A sharp flick of his knife blade freed the woman of pounds of water weight. He'd come back for the cloak later as she'd need it, if she survived.

  Muddy water squished in his boots as he got up on one knee and gathered the woman against his chest. He stood, taking a staggering step before balancing on his feet. She wasn't heavy but he was exhausted from the rescue.

  Cold mud and foul-tasting water dripped down his face but he couldn't stop and wipe it off now. The toe of his boot caught and held on something since he couldn't see and he nearly dropped her. Fergus shook his foot, finally getting the object off. He took a few steps away and turned sideways to see what it was.

  A reticule? Was this hers? Fergus would come back for it when retrieving the cloak.

  Fergus stopped once to rest before finally reaching his wagon. It was an old sheepherder's wagon he'd converted to carry his photography supplies while he traveled. Before the weather had turned cooler, he'd camped outside instead of the cramped interior.

  Now there would be two people crammed inside the wagon because they needed to get out of the cold wind and dropping temperatures.

  He set one foot on the step and reached across the woman to open the door of the wagon. It was cumbersome to climb the three steps and squeeze through the doorway while hanging on to her. Instead of lying the wet woman on the bed, he left her on the floor for now. No use getting the bedding soaked.

  Fergus leaned over and felt the woman's neck, glad he could feel a strong pulse. He should have checked her for broken bones before he moved her, but he wasn't sure if she'd survive anyway.

  They both needed dry clothes to get their body temperatures back up. Fergus stepped over the woman and leaned against the doorway, pulling off one boot and pouring its collected water outside the wagon. He set the boot inside the doorway and yanked off the other. He pulled his soggy socks off his feet, leaned out the door and rung the water out of them before laying them across the tops of his boots to dry.

  Now he shut the door and realized how dark the space was with only two small windows on either side of the wagon. His eyes adjusted as he stripped his clothes off, rubbing the inside of his wet shirt against his face and hair to clean off the worst of the mud accumulated in his struggle to get them both on the river bank.

  Fergus looked down at the woman on the floor, realizing he was standing practically over her without a stitch of clothing on.

  He pulled his extra set of clothing out of a stuffed cupboard wondering what he should put on the woman while he dried her clothes.

  "Want to wear my union suit for now?" Fergus didn't expect her to answer and would have been very embarrassed if she did.

  Fergus struggled to push his goose-bumped arms into the shirtsleeves and then his legs into his trousers. His body eased its tightness with the feel of dry clothing against his skin.

  "Lady? You ready to wake up?" Her face was pale and her whole body shook but she still didn't open her eyes.

  "Okay then." Fergus wiped his hand over his face. He'd never seen a naked woman, but he was about to. That was the only way to save her life.

  Fergus started with her petite shoes, of course fashionable with lots of tiny buttons, and him with no buttonhook. He tugged one way and then the other to get the buttons undone and her shoes off. He rolled her hose down and tossed them aside.

  "Petticoats and how many? Are they buttoned or tied on the side?" Besides talking aloud to keep himself sane and calm, he hoped hearing a voice would rouse the woman.

  Fergus took a deep breath and folded her dress up to her waist, revealing a soggy mess of river-tainted cotton.

  He worked through the strings tied on her right side. Two petticoats and her drawers. He pushed her skirt down to her knees to cover her then reached underneath to pull all three pieces off at once. All that twisting and turning and she still didn't lift an eyelid.

  Fergus inched her dress up past her knees looking at her legs for broken bones or swollen ankles and sighed with relief when they looked all right.

  "I'm going to put the union suit on the bottom half of you before we start on your upper half." Fergus worked her feet through the leg openings and pulled the suit up to her waist.

  "The dress comes off next, Missy." No gloves on her hands showed her unadorned left ring finger so he decided to start calling her something, and apparently, it wasn't Missus.

  Fergus held his breath as he unbuttoned her dress, then carefully pulled it over her head while she was still on the floor.

  He sat back now seeing bruises on her upper body. But except for the bright purple spot on her left temple, the bruises showed different varieties of different colors, meaning they were old bruises.

  "Lord, why?" Why did men use their fists on women and children? Well if Missy survived, he'd be sure she didn't go back to that man.

  With new determination, he unbuttoned her chemise, corset cover, and gently slipped those over her head. Dang if her corset wasn't one that tied in the back instead of the front.

  Fergus gently rolled her hips around to pull the union suit above her waist and ready to stick her arms in the top section. She laid away from him as he knelt beside her to untie the lacings. Another new bright bruise crossed her pale back skin, as if she’d been hit with a pole or a cane.

  He took a deep breath as he pulled her corset off and stuck her arms through the sleeves. He carefully buttoned the front plate before turning her back to the floor.

  She obviously hit her head, but he didn't think she'd hit the bottom of the river or floated into the bridge piling hard enough to give her such a bruise, or a serious concussion. Or was she already unconscious before someone threw her off the train? Seeing the condition of her body, he was afraid that was the most likely scenario.

  Her black fuzzy hair was a tangled mess once held up with a handful of pins, now scattered on the floor. Combing and braiding her hair would have to wait until...it needed to be done, if ever. Fergus blotted the moisture out of her hair with his drying towel and felt an oblong lump starting on her left temple and going across the side of her head. Shoot, this was more than a simple bruise. No wonder she wasn’t waking up.

  Fergus stood up over her to pull the quilt aside on the small bed on the sidewall. Carefully supporting her head, Fergus picked her up off the floor and laid her in the bed, tucking the quilt clear around her head, with only her face showing.

  What was her story? Fergus might never know.

  "Dusk is about gone, Missy, so I need to gather up my camera and your belongings while I can still see to do it." And take the horse down to the river for a drink of water and back for a ration of oats...and with no coat or dry boots to keep his chilled body from getting colder while outside in the evening air.

  Fergus trotted back to the riverbank to find her cloak. It was hard to see in the remaining light. He'd search around the bridge in the morning.

  The horse was taken care of next and picketed beside the wagon. Then he carefully lifted his Seroco view camera off the tripod and carried both back to the wagon. He put the camera back in its carrying case after he pulled out the dry plate. Would the picture reveal what happened when the woman fell? Would there be a second person on the platform watching her fall? Fergus wouldn't know until he could process that plate. Meantime he'd start up the tiny cooking stove in the wagon to provide them with heat and supper. And worry if the woman was going to wake up, or die in his bed without Fergus ever knowing her name.

  She still breathed softly but didn't wake up for the smell of coffee and canned beef stew, or his constant questions. The glow of the lamp light cast shadows among their clothes he'd hung on a rope across the room. His coat would still be damp come morning, but would offer some protection as he took care of the horse. He'd planned to continue his travel home once the sun was up this morning, but maybe he needed to give "Missy" a few days of rest before being jolted in the back of t
he traveling wagon.

  And if she died? Well, he'd take her body to the closest town to be buried as an unknown person in their cemetery.

  Either way he had a woman to watch overnight. Fergus hoped to sleep a little on the floor beside the bed while he listened to her breathe. Would her breath turn raspy and halted from inhaling dirty river water into her lungs? Or stop altogether? Fergus had done his part and her life was now in the Lord's hands.

  How many times had his parents, the pastor and helpmate of their community, sat with families waiting for a loved one to heal or pass away? There would be a knock on the door during the night, words of worry or panic drifting up to the boys' rooms. All six of them would awake, trying to recognize the visitor's voice. The oldest brother, Angus, was in charge when their parents left the house. "Go back to sleep, they'll be home later," he'd always say, but Angus usually left the bedroom to sleep downstairs until their parents returned.

  Fergus and his brother, Mack, weren't blood brothers to the other four, but were always loved and protected as part of the Reagan family.

  Missy's body looked like no one had protected her. Well, that situation changed when she fell from the train while he took the photograph. She was under his watch and protection now.

  Chapter 2

  Iris Kerns slowly became aware of two things, being warm and needing to empty her bladder. She slowly opened her eyes, surprised to focus in on a low and curved wooden ceiling. Expanding her view revealed a tiny wooden wagon, probably used as shelter when someone traveled. She was tucked inside a multi-colored quilt in a narrow bed built against the wall. A tiny cooking stove sat across from the bed, giving off heat and the smell of burning wood and coffee. The rest of the interior was a set of built in drawers or hooks to hold clothing.

  "No…" Her dress, petticoats, drawers hung on a rope strung across the room. Iris moved her hands across her stomach to figure out what she was wearing, and then lifted the quilt high enough to look. A man's union suit? The length enveloped her feet and the sleeves reached her fingertips.