Ceritha

By Laura Hutton Snyder

IT’S 1862! Oregon just passed the Homestead Act giving free land to homesteaders. The John Tibbs Wagon Train departs in 10 days! Folks say Tibb’s is the best for bringing trains through safe. Make sure you have a man to drive because women won’t be accepted by themselves. That’s one of John’s rules and he don’t take no discussion on that. Tibbs is the wagon master Jake Hanley and Patrick O’Brien want,except Jake can’t decide if he should tell John their third passenger is a very young woman. He's heard John don’t feel comfortable with that either. Ceritha O’Brien, Patrick's sister has had her life torn apart by the death of her Ma and Pa just three weeks past. She feels pulled from childhood and hurled into womanhood. She and Ma hadn’t even talked about that much. Society's rules say seventeen is an adult woman. Trouble is, being called an adult and really being one are quite different. Ceritha needs a plan to mature fast.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Hutton Snyder
• Release date: Nov 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301794379

Laura Hutton Snyder

Laura Hutton Snyder is a graduate of Michigan State University school of Journalism. She has written short stories and personality profiles for weekly newspapers. Ceritha is her first novel. She currently lives in Katy, Texas. You can contact me on http://laurahuttonsnyder.blogspot.com/

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Ceritha

Laura Hutton Snyder

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Laura Hutton Snyder

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High above the prairie,

night unfurled its cloak of darkness.

A waiting breeze blew it into fullness,

The shadowy decent began.

CHAPTER ONE

Oncoming darkness gave strength to fears she’d staved off since morning. Coping with them had eroded her stamina. She had not eaten today other than the few bites at breakfast because soon after her chest was struck with a fierce ache and her stomach soured.

‘Twas now, hours later and day’s work done, could she admit how sick she felt. Slowly, like the very old and weary, the lass eased herself onto the ground to mull remedies for these ailments.

A glance at the setting sun set a tremble onto her. Soon light from the campfire, would be all that pierced the blackness of this night. She sent a prayer it would do its job well, for early this morning most of her dry wood had gone for washing clothes. Only now did she realize the scarcity of dry wood might cause the night fire to be smaller than was safe.

A sigh of profound reflection tilted into the air and floated skyward. To be caught without enough dry wood rested heavy. When would she be done learning things? Ooch, she had plenty of food cooked. The day had not been bollixed, but to have been this careless stunned her, made her feel immature and vulnerable.

Lordy Lou, what would she do if. . .? The unfinished thought was banished with a brave toss of her chin. Even so, our lass immediately began an inspection of the fire’s size and strength.

‘Why those quickening flames were fair strutting to the crackling of the burning wood. And the light they cast was strong and bright.’

She felt instant relief. Of course, there may be readers who think it foolish to consider a fire’s ‘seeming bravado’ as reassuring, but the lass did. ‘Twas what was keeping her backbone straight.

Ma always said; when life’s got you down and strapped, start makin’ every little thing around you better. It did help but really only some and in these last few months she was finding many times, a body needed more. Consoling herself with another piercing look at the fire she wrestled a large flat rock closer in.

Once it placed she settled there sorely needing

solace from its light and heat.

Alas, there would be but a moment of that!

The night wind increased, lobbing icy puffs along her arms and up into her hair, fraying the ends of the ribbon tied there. Ma would have deemed it ‘Irish luck’ that as soon as the tattered bow slipped open, that fickle wind moved on.

A quick thrust of her hand rescued the yellow band but her growing anxiety allowed it to fall unheeded to her lap. Several minutes lapsed before Ceritha Charity O’Brien was able to galvanize body and mind enough to finger comb the mass of tangled curls away from her eyes.

It brought another of Ma’s sayings: When big things bother you, start fixing all the wee ones first. Thus when her daughter retied that yellow ribbon she made a good firm knot and then she tied the bow.

Had the wee people offered a wish when she’d wakened, Ceritha would have asked for the day to be special. Truth be: the day was long, tiring, and crammed with happenings. Not a one of which was special.

This day of twists and turns, filled with continual work, worry and feelings of illness made it difficult for her to accept an entire year had gone by since Ma and Pa made joyous plans for the party that should have been hers. For this day was indeed special. It marked entry into Ceritha’s seventeenth year and the end of her childhood.

One year to this night, she’d sat at dinner and watched her smiling parents raise their glasses in a toast; her heart surging with happiness at their words: To your coming womanhood dear one.

The proud declaration was followed by loving kisses between her parents, done in such a theatrical, over the top manner Ceritha quite forgot she would soon be thought of as a woman and dissolved into helpless giggles.

The moment her father pressed the blue velvet box into her hands, her decorum returned. She knew Grandmother O’Brien’s pearl and diamond earbobs were in it. After all, Pa had shown them to her on her fifth birthday and then every birthday thereafter. Lordy Lou, she’d been waiting to claim that box most of her life. Halleluiah! Today was her sixteenth birthday, the waiting was over! Exuberantly, Ceritha accepted the box along with all the kisses that accompanied.

Your Granny used to say it took her a year to feel comfortable wearing these, her father teased, so you must wear them soon and often.

Oh Pa, I will always love them. They are my special treasure, for always and beyond.

Happy tears splashed down both their cheeks as Pa pulled her to him in a bear hug that varied between brisk pats on her back to soft soothing rubs when she yelped at those brisk pats.

Ma watched smiling. She always enjoyed their antics but tonight she could wait no longer. Bounding to her feet Ma announced compellingly: ‘tis my turn now.’ Ah well, as to that, she did bridle her impatience long enough to fasten those beloved earbobs in her daughter’s well shaped ears.

Duty done; Ma gave herself to the occasion by selecting a dinner knife and waving it over the birthday girl. Then swept Ceritha’s hair to the top of her head whilst loudly proclaiming that wondrously magic word: ABRACADABRA.

Pa applauded vigorously honoring his wife with a much deserved bow. He was captivated when Ma got theatrical. His wife caught his eye and tilted her head toward their daughter. Pa’s own eyes went wide as golden and copper tinged curls burst from her hands like a newly opened bouquet. The magic continued when myriads of tendrils loosened from her grip to curl softly about Ceritha’s ears and droop charmingly onto her forehead.

Smiling broadly, Ma deliberately allowed a frown to slip into the smile’s place. Her expression turned to one of bewilderment. Hmmm, while ‘tis true your hair is charming this way dear heart, I feel it still needs something. Ah, but what? Her fingers began a tapping dance across her lips. Again Ma assumed a pose, this time tweaking and stroking an imaginary mustache. Aye, it most definitely lacks. To make this style perfect in the most absolute of absoluteness, you simply must have these.

Carefully Ma lifted two burled walnut combs from a drawer in the china cupboard. There followed a long moment of scrutiny and much tsk tsking until she snatched up a napkin to rub and to polish. The wood’s patina evolved into a gleaming background for the combs silver and jade design done in the popular Chinese style of the day. And only then, Ma did gently place them in her daughter’s hands.

Ceritha’s gasp of pleasure was the best thanks a mother could have. She was giggling a bit herself as she offered a hand mirror to her daughter. These are my gift to you dearest. Ah my heart, do just look. Do you see how wonderfully the jade matches your eyes?

Gone

Vanished

Evaporated!

As leaves in a hard wind, these happy memories scattered and disappeared. Within her next breath, Ceritha was beleaguered by feelings of bleakness and apprehension.

Remain calm child Use your head.

She worked to calm herself, especially from the anger that was sheeting over her. Of late, anger hovered about her like some murky rain cloud ready to burst. The anxiety it triggered kept her edgy and off balance. Much of it was worry she was losing control of her life. Lordy Lou, just validating the thought made tears gather but if she gave in to them she might not be able to think clearly. And that she must do; there was something about this night that frightened her.

It wasn’t she hadn’t tried to regain control, but Lordy Lou becoming a woman was a lot harder than she’d ever realized. There was so much more expected of girls, newly turned women. And sometimes it seemed you could only learn by getting into situations and making messes of them.

She’d spent three months working every day to learn and conquer the woman stuff. ‘INDEED’, she avowed earnestly to the universe.

Well then, why was this night giving strength to these particular fears? They came after Ma and Pa died. Wish as she might she couldn’t change that, so she’d vowed to both their memories to take better charge of her life.

Tonight, in this newly fallen darkness she had to wonder if she’d become too attuned to her feelings and perhaps now was imagining things. Things that couldn’t be real, could they? All day she’d had the feeling someone or something was sending warnings; reminding her to think first and keep her head, counseling not to let emotions rule her actions. ‘What am I to make of that Lord? Is all this tipping me over the barrel’?

The messages had seemed so real, though certainly she didn’t feel crazy or weird; well perhaps a bit undone, hanging by a thread, the thin edge of a wedge. A paroxysm of giggles rippled through her and would not be stopped. This loss of control propelled her to her feet and into movement.

Deep in thought, fed only by nervous energy, Ceritha began to pace the perimeter of the fire unaware of the strange ethereal shadows she was casting onto the prairie floor. ‘Twas only weariness made her stop; that and the realization all the pacing hadn’t done a thing toward quelling her fears. Drawing a deep breath and expelling it slowly, she struggled to remember what they said to her just before they left this morning.

The very last thing was: now don’t go to worrying. We’ll be well back ‘afore sundown.

Clearly it was well past sundown.

Just as clearly, they were not back.

Had something happened?

Might it be something bad?

What if they never came back?

Seventeen year old Ceritha stared fixedly at the onyx sky patterned in the diamond brilliance of the silent stars. Slowly her arms raised up in prayer. Immediately she finished, one clear thought emerged from the quagmire of dark ones. It reminded her she was standing under God’s heavens, thus he was with her.

As always child.

Hope flickered, easing and comforting. She drew a deep breath of faith and ordered herself to keep her chin up.

‘Child, keep your head high when dealing with trouble. That way you’re looking it straight in the eye as you begin your challenge.’

Pa always told her that. She knew he was right. Lordy Lou, how many times had she reminded herself of that in the last three months. And it worked too, just not all the time. Please work tonight, she said softly.

It won’t. Courage child, courage.

Pain seared a furrow inside her forehead. Memories poured into it. All were frightening. They made her head throb. It hurt to keep her eyes open.

What was happening?

Could the dream be responsible?

It had come again last night. Its ending remained the same. She was the only one left, alone and frightened. Very much like now.

As she struggled to cope with these thoughts, Ceritha’s oval face paled to the color of new fallen snow.

Tonight their power will be the greater.

It bears recording our lass waged stalwart battle. She’s a fighter, never was a quitter. But ‘twas the fear she might not win you see; it wove a heavy mantle of dread and hopelessness that attached to her slender form greedily leaching her strength. When at last she crumpled onto the flat rock, she was entrapped in a labyrinth of absolute fright.

Though still she faced the fire’s dancing flames, her eyes could no longer see them. Time measured off half an hour then another, whilst she sat motionless, without cognizance. Nights on the prairie have the potential to become deadly. Assuredly this night could have, had not a simple attack of shivers returned awareness. As her body began to shake, her eyes flew open and she gasped air like a swimmer breaking surface from deep water. Her chin rose up with a military snap. Ceritha was back in charge.

Stoically staring into a darkness broken only by the night fire she strove to gain power over panic; whose fiercely beating wings were making her lungs ache from the want to breathe deeply. Though her ability to reason had returned, fear still kept her throat full and tight.

‘I kept my chin up but oh Pa it was most terrible hard.’

A clear sharp message came:

‘You need company my girl.’

Ceritha’s shaky giggle morphed into hiccups. But the very moment they ended she whistled for the dog that had steadfastly remained in calling range this day.

He came immediately, bounding through the darkness running straight for her; never slowing until he overshot, went into a skid and butted hard against her knees. Large, red, mongrel to the core, McDuff quite enjoyed what he’d done and willingly endured a head pat or two so he might do it all again.

His mistress overlooked several of these assaults before taking him by the chin. See here now McDuff, I’ll be havin’ no more foolishness. You’re much too big to behave like a wee sassy pup.

This stern admonishment became smoke in the wind as she flung her arms around the dog’s warm neck and laid her cheek against his silky head. The sheen from McDuff’s coat and the burnished copper of Ceritha's wind tangled curls reflected the flames like a troupe of dancing fireflies.

Dear Lord, her earnest whisper floated onto the air with the softness of a feather, grant me courage so I’m not so needful of Ma and Pa for only you know how much I miss them

The dog pressed closer. These two had tendered love and comfort since he was newborn. Tonight, the comfort was short lived. McDuff surged to his feet in a frantic scramble of legs. His soothing growl was replaced by one that was rough and edgy and he made sure to keep it that way as it rolled out into the night. The dog was so intent on doing his job it took a few moments before he sensed she hadn’t understood the important change in his message. Belly aquiver, he stopped growling long enough to nudge her.

When her arms fluttered out to enfold him. McDuff backed away stiff legged, knowing her gesture to be purely automatic. He felt insulted he did not have her full attention. It simply did not suit. He might be young but he knew full well what his job was. Indeed, it was only the doing that sometimes confused him. He circled her, always out of reach, speaking in the high nervous whine she particularly hated. He got nothing!

McDuff’s agitation was growing in direct proportion to his irritation. Surely he’d never been so ignored. Ah but then he reminded himself she’d been edgy all day. Yes and that worried him and frankly he had enough worries. There were people out there and he wasn’t sure who they were. Not for the first time in his young life did he need to ask himself ‘what to do’?

There weren’t many options, and he wanted her safe. That was definitely his job. McDuff hunkered down to ponder. Immediately he felt edgy as a cat and couldn’t maintain it. He simply could not trust his thinking with his belly rubbing on the ground and his message was too important. He needed her attention and the sooner the better. It looked like the call was going to have to be his whether he wanted it that way or not.

Giving himself a meticulous shake out McDuff carefully moved into position; edging close... really close the dog suddenly dropped his full weight against her ankle. The same one she twisted this morning whilst carrying the bucket of wet clothes. When he could see tears in her eyes, McDuff lifted his paw and rapped it smartly against her knee. Rather more than once.

Ceritha stared hard at the dog. He stared back. Understanding pumped through her, sucking the breath right out of her lungs. He was telling her there were strangers out there and coming this way. Lordy Lou, strangers! And coming this way! But she had thought . . . she had been so sure. Never mind! The time for thinking was long passed.

In one fluid motion our lass snatched up the rifle at her feet and removed herself from the fire’s light. This happened with the swiftness of spilled ink and the change that occurred was too drastic for her to grasp:

Shrouded in darkness, Ceritha’s mind had somehow stumbled across an unseen threshold and entered into another dimension.

This murky world confined her like the wrappings of a straight jacket; damaging her sense of direction and jumbling the metered cadence of time and thought. When her senses attempted to resolve these problems, they no longer had external measures to work with and the internal ones were severely impaired.

Ceritha was rendered helpless as a babe.

To be sure she still gripped the heavy stick of wood and metal, but now had no reference for what it was or why she was clasping it so tightly. This was trouble of a sort she hadn’t even known existed and her thoughts continued to bang into walls her eyes could not see.

You need a plan!

The sentence thrust itself boldly into her injured mind. The words came so fast she felt they had to be the right ones. Lordy Lou, if she could only settle herself down.

NO! Not down. UP! Her chin had to be up! Why did that seem right? Her mind gave no response. This must be it then, she thought. ‘Be it good or be it bad, the only thing I can do is wait.’ Perhaps once I can see the problem, look it in the face, I might understand how to deal with it. Didn’t someone used to tell me that?

Instinctively, Ceritha knew she was close to letting go.

NO

The word had somehow found its way to her. Using whatever she could gather within herself, Ceritha began to build a figment wall to protect a mind she couldn’t get working.

Later, sounds came from afar. Her brain sought to offer meaning for them, finally producing two words, ‘MEN COMING’. These words cannon balled into her belly embedding seeds of fear so deep they gave instant birth to terror.

There have been times in the creation of a life tapestry when a skilled weaver might choose to unpick a detrimental stitch. The act is not something one wishes to have in a resume, worldly or heavenly, but the weaver realized there were ‘others with credentials’ co-piloting the tapestry this day and immediately complied with their unspoken request.

It allowed instinct to step forward and assume the bridge: Ceritha’s right hand quivered its way to her forehead then to her heart and . . . Father—Our Father. The words were so soft only HE could hear. Her arms opened in silent appeal for the remainder of the prayer. It did not come, allowing terror to careen through her body feasting on sinews and siphoning her reserves of strength.

Frowning, the weaver watched this newly corrected stitch become wild again. His hands shook as he made yet another adjustment. All entities present understood there could be no further interference.

Deep within the gene structure, instinct bowed gracefully and stepped back. Primordial reasoning had been given command.

McDuff could feel the full force of her panic. His youth caused the trembling that shook him and would not be quieted. Nonetheless, he executed steadfast sentinel for his mistress, spewing his most menacing growl into the black prairie night.

Ceritha’s hand rose to her throat. Was a scream forming? She couldn’t judge. It felt like a living thing yet also seemed apart from her. Frightened as she was, she knew she mustn’t let it out. A sound like that could carry half a mile, perhaps more. Impulsively she threw back her head, took a great gulp of air and found her plan. She would swallow it.

‘Unrealistic,’ Oh I can hear many of you saying that. Of course your viewpoint cannot be denied. Thus you might feel obligated to scoff and cry foul. The fact remains, primordial reasoning managed to do just that; perhaps because it was free and unfettered by statistics and logistics.

There were times her mind became lucid. She was in one now and desperately wanted Ma and Pa. In lieu of that she wanted McDuff. So much she fell to her knees flailing her arms through the darkness in search of him. The instant she touched that warm fur her arms wrapped tightly about his neck. Lordy Lou, just holding him eased her breathing and brought starch to her backbone.

McDuff pressed his head against her, gave her cheek a lick; then, ever so gently, wriggled free and was gone. This time she couldn’t hold back a cry of despair. It bombarded into the night ricocheting up and out. ‘Lordy Lou, I’ve done it now.’

Once again Ceritha found herself on her knees groping, and whispering the dog’s name, begging him to come to her. For the first time McDuff would not obey and both felt the anguish of it. He stood but a few feet away still deciding what to do. She was in a bad state but there was something different about the sounds and the direction they were coming from. Since he wasn’t thinking clearly himself he knew he had to investigate. There might be a chance he could fix this situation. And that was his job, wasn’t it? Aaugh! What to do?

She began to cry. To McDuff’s deep and utter disgust a responding mewling issued from him. It had the sound of some puny undersized barn cat. Instantly he forced himself to stand straighter. ‘Much better.’ You can imagine his shock when he began moving back towards her. What was happening here? Was he attached to some kind of puppet string?

Sheer will stopped him. Flustered scared, McDuff bit down on a few self pitying whimpers. With one last look back, the dog bolted into the night running faster than he had ever run before.

She heard him go and needed him so much her mind reeled. She must call him back. When her mouth opened to do just that, the muscles in her throat had tightened so much she couldn’t make a sound.

No, PR cautioned! That would surely reveal your whereabouts. What then lass?

Breathing became a series of pain filled gasps. She couldn’t think. Fear made her queasy and the strange stick she had in her hands constantly banged into her from her trembling.

‘Oh Pa, I’m so scared’

Ceritha closed her eyes in a vain attempt to remove herself from this present reality. When they opened again, she found herself standing on the bank of a churning river. Two grave markers bobbed in the frothing water, each etched with the name of the loved one she had recently lost. On the opposite bank, four men were lowering Ma and Pa into newly dug graves. She would have done anything not to watch only now she was more afraid of what might happen if she closed her eyes again.

Ceritha recognized friends in the funeral gathering and wanted to go to them. As soon as she moved, Jake and Patrick appeared out of the mist and lifted her into an open buggy. Her friends heard her cries of distress and turned to extend their arms to her. Whilst the buggy continued to move, she watched those outstretched arms drop off as though severed. Her eyes became blind and refused to see more.

In time Ceritha felt the heavy repressive air lift and knew she was back on the prairie and in control of most of her mind.

‘Is this the end of my life? I’m callin’ to you Lord to help me. I’m fearful those men coming will find me.’ Suffering shock and terrible fear, Ceritha again spoke earnestly to God. ‘Thy will be done. Lord I truly accept that, but not being sure of what it is you want for me, I need to be askin’ forgiveness.’

For ‘I intend to fight for myself and if I can’t get a clear sighting, I will shoot towards the first sound I hear.’ It helped to decide on a course of action, even though she felt it was wrong. The first rule of self-defense Jake taught her was to call a warning before she shot at another human being. She could not bring herself to do that.

Wait! Had she heard something? Her breathing was so noisy she took a deep breath and held it. Yes! It was a faint voice that floated in and out of her ear. She must protect herself, Pa would expect that.

Grimly, Ceritha raised her chin and positioned the rifle. Instantly she felt better, almost like Pa was with her. When the voice came again, she got the shot off but her shoulder muscles contracted so painfully it went high and wide. Another call soon followed. The tone was intensified. It sounded much closer.

Helloo, helloo.

Why the hell are you shooting at us?

Where are you?

Answer me. Are you hurt?

I reckon we’re rufflin’ your feathers coming in after dark like this ‘Ritha but with the trees and all we’ve had trouble locating your campfire. Give me an answer. It’s me, me and Jake.

A prickly feeling surged up from her stomach soon filling her mouth with bitter liquid. She was trembling so hard she could scarcely stand. She had known that voice since the day she was born. It belonged to her brother Patrick. Air expelled from her lungs in a great whoosh.

Limp, dazed, she understood what she had almost done. But for the grace of God, she might have killed the only blood kin she had in the world.

But she hadn’t!

She could hear them easily now.

They were still coming. Yes still coming.

Thank you Lord!

CHAPTER TWO

Her mental capacities fought to return. The good news was she was coherent but coherency didn’t seem to expose her better self.

Well, he certainly had no business swearing at me like that just because he thinks he’s old enough! Her tone intended to purport righteous indignation. Its reality was a whiney whimper; although that well could have been because she was on her knees suffering yet another bout of retching. When it was over and she struggled to her feet, her body wasn’t up to that. Ceritha’s last thought as she folded to the ground like some giant fan was, ‘I’m sure they’ll both be thinking I’m nothing but a coward.’

Marcus approached the campfire in full gallop. McDuff had brought him this far but was winded and Patrick was not willing to wait. He had been scanning the area for signs of her even before he leaped from the horse’s back.

She lay some thirty feet from the flat rock still clutching the rifle. His heart was pounding so hard he wondered if it might burst right out of his chest

Was she injured?

Had someone else been there?

Lordy, she must have been terrified. Emotion swelled his throat closing it and he choked, coughing hard. Everything crashed over him. The feeling of guilt about the length of time he and Jake left her alone today, especially today because it was her birthday; but mostly because she never really wanted to come on this journey.

There were times he thought he hadn’t wanted to come on it either but always, as soon as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. This journey stirred his imagination, made his blood sing. Was that wrong?

Patrick ran his hands over his sister but could find no wound or broken bones so he pulled her close to the warmth of the fire and sank to his knees beside her.

His eyes immediately filled with hot tears. Good lord, he never knew tears could burn. It got so bad he had to swipe them away with his shirt sleeves so she wouldn’t see he was crying when she opened her eyes. It was unnerving. He felt a complete sissy hunkering there, one hand on her shoulder to let her know he was there and the other hand just swiping away.

It wasn’t until later, as he eased the rifle out of her arms, he realized he had no idea how to help her. What if she never woke up? Lordy, that scared him to the point he gathered her close as he could and began rocking and patting at her back as he’d seen women do to comfort babies and youngun’s. He even sang her a song from his childhood.

Ceritha lay quietly against her brother, not responding to any of his frantic questions, even when he laid his fingers against the pulse at her neck.

He was pretty sure it was racing. It stepped up his worrying until he remembered