Aray of sun filtered through roiling clouds when Copper opened the back door to admit the three Gray cousins the following morning. The unexpected, but welcome brightness startled her, but before she could close the door, black clouds had overtaken the light.
When the three men entered the kitchen, the room suddenly felt much smaller with their statuesque frames taking up all the space. Audrey, who had been in the process of taking a pan of biscuits from the oven, paused, one hand pressed against her throat. From the men’s sober expressions, it was obvious the early morning visit was anything but social.
“What is it? Has there been a mill accident?” Willow asked.
Tucker shook his head. “Got a wagon train stranded on the outskirts of town. They’re headed to Colorado Springs, and sickness has broken out.”
“It’s no wonder with this weather.” Audrey grabbed the pan with a hot pad. “Can we help?”
“We can help—question is, do we want to?” Caleb’s slicker dripped rain on the floor. “The outbreak looks to be real serious.”
“How serious?” Copper demanded. “You mean like cholera bad?”
“Don’t know exactly how bad it is or how bad it will get,” Eli admitted. “Doc Smith and Jolie are down there now trying to help.”
Jolie. The Acadian woman who lived on the outskirts of Thunder Ridge. Audrey remembered her from her prior visit. Folks who feared a doctor, or couldn’t afford one, went to her for herbs and potions. She’d been quite helpful when Willow had burned the sawmill. Willow had needed immediate attention, and the town doctor had been out of town.
Eli cleared his throat, meeting Audrey’s gaze for the first time. “Would it be all right if I brought Tate over here? I don’t want him around that wagon train, and Ma isn’t always able to keep him in line. Until I know what’s wrong with those people, I don’t want him exposed to the sickness. Can you help a few days?”
“Of course, bring him right away and I’ll take care of him.” Audrey paused. “Oh, I forgot.” Her heart sank. For once he had acknowledged her, and now she must refuse. “I have to go to the parlor. Copper, will you be here?”
“Of course. I’ll be happy to watch him.” Copper flashed a helpful smile, and relief crossed Eli’s features.
“Much obliged. I’ll go fetch him. And I sure do thank you, Copper, for taking him in.”
But she would have, Audrey wanted to say, but didn’t. She had a job.
“It’s no trouble,” Willow assured him. “Bring your mother too. We’d enjoy the company.”
He declined. “If you’ll just see to the boy…”
Audrey intervened. “Of course we’ll help. I’ll complete my work at the parlor and come home as soon as possible. I’ll probably be back before Tate gets here.”
Eli left, and Tucker flashed Willow a stern glance. “Are you sure about this? He’s a handful. Do you have time to keep an eye on him and Wallace too?”
Copper held up a restraining hand. “Excuse me? I believe I offered to take care of Tate. Willow won’t have to lift a hand. I’m a teacher, remember? I’m sure I can entertain one little boy without any trouble.”
“Don’t worry, Tucker.” Willow returned to the sink. “Copper and Tate will get along nicely. He can stay here in the kitchen and help bake.”
“It’s easy to see you don’t know our little Tate,” Caleb said. “If you can get him to sit for five minutes, you’ll be working a miracle. The boy has ants in his pants.”
Audrey heaved a sigh. She was standing right there, and they were ignoring her. Yes, she had to work, but she and Tate were friends. She’d promised to bake cookies; this would be the perfect time.
By evening, Eli delivered the child. “I’m going to stay with you, Miss Pride!”
“No, son.” Eli said. “You’re going to be in Copper’s care. Audrey has work to attend to.” He glanced at Copper. “I’d hoped to get him here sooner but something came up.”
Tate stuck out his lower lip and frowned. “I want Miss Pride.”
Eli’s tone sharpened. “Miss Wilson will look after you. You mind what she says. And I don’t want any back talk.”
Tate puffed up like a spotted toad. Obviously he wasn’t happy with the situation or his father’s tone.
Audrey knelt in front of him. “I’ll speak to Copper and we’ll bake those cookies—”
“Don’t be coddling him, Miss Pride.”
Audrey rose to face him, rebuke on the tip of her tongue. She amended her response.
“Perhaps your father will let you stay for supper tonight, and you can help set the table.” Surely he would allow the child food. “Would that be all right?”
Tate brightened. “Just us two?”
“Just the two of us,” Audrey promised. She slanted a look at Eli. “If your father doesn’t object, he’s invited to eat with us.”
Eli frowned, but one look at Tate and it was apparent to everyone present that if he wanted his son to cooperate, he’d have to give in on this one. “I suppose. But you mind your manners, and don’t give Miss Wilson any trouble. She’s taking care of you, not Miss Pride. You hear me, Tate?”
“I hear you, Eli.” Tate gave him back frown for frown.
Audrey sighed. Seemed they were back to first names. She’d work with the boy again tonight about the proper way to address his father. Right now was not the time to get into semantics with Eli standing there looking like a thundercloud.
With a backward glance at Audrey, Eli turned and left.
Copper appeared, smiling a welcome at Tate. “How about you and me sitting down here at the table and drawing a picture?”
“I don’t want to draw pictures.”
Audrey placed a hand on Tate’s shoulder. “I expect you to be nice and treat Copper with respect. If you don’t, then we won’t be able to have our time together tonight.”
Tate sent her a rebellious look, but then he sighed. “All right. Where’s the pencil?”
Audrey nodded her approval.
Tate grinned. “If I’m extra nice will you play two games tonight?”
She smiled. “We’ll see. In the meantime, you and Copper have fun.”
She might as well go back to the funeral home and clean the back room. Eli had made it clear that Copper was in charge. If she was here she’d only mother the boy.
As she let herself out of the back door, her thoughts turned to the stranded wagon train. The rigs were covered with canvas but they wouldn’t be totally waterproof. Between the rain and the illness the travelers must be miserable. Lights glowed behind the windows of the funeral home when she approached. Leaving the slicker on the porch, Audrey entered the foyer.
Kirkland approached. “Oh…I’m glad you’ve returned. You’ve heard the news.”
Audrey smiled. “What news?”
His eye lit with uncharacteristic fervor. “The wagon train. Wonders of wonders, we’ve got bodies to prepare. Three, and possibly more to come!”
Her knees momentarily buckled. The room tilted. The wagon train. Illness. The implication of the men’s prior conversation impacted her. “Three?” The number came out in a feeble squeak.
“All from the wagon train. Three passed during the night, and others have fallen ill. We’re going to be very busy.”
Audrey reached for a chair to support her weight. “Why so many deaths?”
Kirkland shook his head. “Some sort of malady has befallen the group. The cause isn’t important. The issue is that we have work to do. A lot of work. Come now, we must get busy. More could come at any time. Large party—over thirty families traveling.”
Audrey swallowed. Malady. Deadly illness. Large party. “But if they’re contagious?” Which had been Eli’s fear. Something like this had been known to impact whole communities.
“Miss Pride. Are you interested in employment or medical issues?” He lifted both hands and clapped a couple of snappy beats. “Come now. Work awaits us! It matters not how the client passed on. It’s our job to make them presentable. Now stop asking questions, and get busy. Your client is in room one.”
“My client?”
“Yes, the body you are to prepare. Client sounds so much more genteel than corpse, don’t you agree?”
“Oh—agreed.” Much more genteel.
And dead.
“Fine. Right through there. Claude will bring you what you need.” He disappeared, and Audrey tried to assimilate the shocking turn of events. A body. She was expected to prepare a body for burial on her second day at work? With no prior instructions or training? She had no idea what the process would involve, and Kirkland Burying was going to be of limited help. Claude could advise her, although his main task was building Burying caskets. Her eyes traveled the dim foyer. She couldn’t stand there forever, so taking a deep breath, she walked to room one where her first client waited her.
A woman lay stretched on the table. Her dress was wet and mud-stained, her long hair stuck to her back. Her face was pinched and white, as though she had been ill a long time, but it was her hands that caught Audrey’s eyes. Calloused, dry, cracked skin; nails ragged with dirt underneath—the hands of a woman who’d worked hard all her life. She was young, maybe not many years older than Audrey. A single worn gold band encircled her ring finger.
The door opened and Audrey whirled, hand to her heart. Claude entered, carrying a large basin of hot water and a bar of lye soap. A towel and washcloth hung over his arm.
“Here you go, Miss Pride. You need anything else, just call and I’ll fetch it.”
Nodding, Audrey didn’t trust her voice. She was two breaths away from hysterics. The moment Claude left she went in search of Kirkland. This was insane. She needed instructions. She knew nothing about what was expected of her. She knocked gently on his office door, afraid to enter. What if he was working on a male victim?
She took a step back. She was beginning to understand why everyone was so opposed to her working here. She wasn’t thrilled about it herself.
Kirkland came to the door. “Yes? What is it?”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“With what?”
“With my…client?”
“Why, bathe her, of course. Dress her and arrange her hair and face paint.”
Of course. She would need to be cleansed and made presentable. “Certainly. I can do that.” Audrey backed away from the door, and Kirkland closed it before she could ask the second question: Then what?
She went back to stare at the young woman. Oh Lord, help me do this. But then she didn’t have a choice if she wanted to keep her job. She reached for a pair of scissors and approached the table. Her husband had brought clean garments.
Working carefully for the next hour, she cut off the dress and the coarse pantaloons. The bleached muslin undergarments came off easily, but she had trouble with the chemise. Finally the discarded bits of clothing lay in a muddy heap on the floor beside the table. The corpse lay before her, vulnerable in death. Her heart softened. The girl was a nursing mother. Her breasts were swollen with milk. Somewhere, someone was wet nursing this mother’s child. She felt tears gathering in her eyes.
She dipped the washcloth in water and began to gently clean the lifeless limbs, trying to close her mind to what her hands were doing. Audrey took a deep breath and tightened her hold on the woman, struggling to lift the body to wash her back. But a muffled crash from outside the room startled her and her hands slipped, and somehow she ended up on the table on top of her client. For one awful moment, Audrey looked death squarely in the eye.
Groaning, she scrambled off the table and nervously patted the woman’s hand. “Sorry. Please forgive me. I’m new at this.”
Silence met her apology.
Drawing a deep breath, Audrey began again. She was not suited for this work. She had just apologized to a dead woman. She reached for the washcloth when a new thought struck her. If this woman had been a Christian, she could very well be sitting up in heaven watching Audrey manhandle the wretched clay that had once housed her soul. The thought unnerved her. She cast a nervous glance upward, vowing to be more careful this time.
The slender, pale body was finally bathed and ready for the clothes that had been left. She lifted the dress, rose-pink calico with ruffles at the throat. The stitches were small and even, excellent workmanship. She wondered if the woman had sewn the garment, wondered what she had been like in life. Wondered if they would have liked each other. Where was her husband now? Heartsick, grieving? Or just sick, like others who’d fallen victim to the malady? It occurred to her for the first time what a truly sad situation this was. Death was never easy to accept. All this time she’d been concentrating on herself, forgetting that a short time ago this woman had been busy with her life, nursing her baby. Living. She edged the dress over the form and fastened the tiny buttons at the back.
Next she picked up a brush and began working on the hair, arranging the still-damp tresses in a soft mass atop her head. She should speak to the husband. Was this how his wife fashioned her hair, or did she allow the thick, lustrous curls to hang loose and unencumbered?
She reached for the face paint and recalled Kirkland’s warning to be subtle. Just enough to restore life back into her face. Gently, with a feather touch, she applied the artifice. The face looked even younger now, with a sweet expression. Audrey stood beside the table, unable to believe the transformation. Her client looked to be at perfect peace.
Reaching to take the still hand, Audrey whispered. “You look beautiful. Rest in God’s love.”
She left the room to summon Claude.
Claude and Jim, fellow employee, brought in a fresh, new casket. The scent of pine filled the room. They gently placed the body inside and carried it to the parlor. After lowering the casket to a narrow table positioned between the stained glass lamps, they left. Audrey sniffed delicately. The lamps, which were beautiful with the light shining through them, smelled faintly of kerosene. Candles should replace the fuel. She’d suggest it to Kirkland.
The door opened, and a man, perhaps in his early thirties, entered. He approached the casket, the brim of his sodden hat crumpled in his hand, face working. Audrey stepped back as he stared down at the woman lying cold and still. Finally he looked up and met her eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. “She looks real nice.” His voice was husky with grief.
Audrey nodded, unshed tears forming a lump in her throat.
The man held out his hand and she took it, wincing as he gripped hard. “I’m beholden to you, ma’am. It won’t be so hard to remember her this way instead of so sick and helpless.” His voice broke, and he swiped at the tears shining on his cheeks. He moved back to the casket to stare at the body.
Audrey didn’t want to intrude on his grief, but the nursing child haunted her. “Is the baby well?”
Without turning, he nodded, his shoulders heaving with grief. “A son.”
“I’ll pray that God will keep his hand on the child.”
As Audrey watched, he reached out a calloused finger and brushed his wife’s cheek. “Good-bye, Nellie. I’ll miss you something fierce.” His shoulders shook as he turned and walked toward the door.
“Wait.”
He stopped and looked back.
“Would you like a lock of her hair?” Audrey silently chastised herself for asking, but his expression softened.
“Why, yes, ma’am. I’d like that a lot.”
She used scissors to clip a long strand of the chestnut-brown hair and handed it to him.
“Is this how Nellie wore her hair? Would you like for me to change anything?”
He stepped back to gaze at the lifeless form for so long, she wondered if he intended to answer her. Then he said quietly. “She looks like the day I married her. She came from Boston, you know. Her folks didn’t want her to marry me, but she went against their wishes. I wonder if this is God’s punishment.”
“I don’t know much about those things,” Audrey admitted softly. “But I do know God promises us he always has our best in mind, whether we can see it or not.”
He wound the clipped lock of hair around his forefinger, and then removed the coil and tucked it in his shirt pocket. “Thank you kindly, ma’am, for all your goodness. I surely appreciate it.”
When he left, Audrey returned to the casket, gazing at the peaceful face. This wasn’t so hard. God had given her an opportunity to do one last thing for her fellow man, a good thing. Nellie had given her a different perspective about working here.
She rested her hand on top of her new friend’s. “Thank you, Nellie.”
It was then that she knew that she could handle anything Kirkland Burying sent her way.