Cabin in the Dawn

Eastern Tennessee, 1924

Lucas sat exhausted, leaning back against the trunk of an old growth hemlock tree. Feeling along his side, he found the improvised bandage that held moss in place over the bullet hole from a small caliber weapon and was relieved to find no evidence of further blood loss. The bullet had entered the fleshy part of his body, missing vital organs and was still in there. And it hurt like hell. But right now that was the least of his worries.

In the light of the full moon, the river flowed before him with its waters catching and flashing lunar rays as it danced over rocks worn smooth by a millennia of its passing. A brisk breeze blew along the water, causing him to shiver. Suddenly a screech owl shrieked somewhere nearby, startling him badly before exhaustion had him leaning backward once again. He had to find some kind of shelter soon. After a few more minutes, he checked his wound one last time before pushing himself to his feet and continuing his slow, painful jog along the river.

~

Dawn had come and gone but the sun was yet to rise over the mountain when Elizabeth emerged from the cantilever barn carrying a bucket full of milk still frothing and steaming in the cool morning air. As she made her way back to the cabin, a rooster crowed from the coop nearby as if to demand his morning ration of feed.

The log cabin was large by some standards with two windows evenly spaced on one side and covered by wood shingles. The stone chimney put forth smoke that scented the air with the acrid smell of burning wood. Nearby stood a small smokehouse and set back against the treeline was an outhouse. She carried the heavy bucket up onto the porch and set it on the shelf Jed had built on one end just for that purpose. After covering the bucket with a cloth, she opened the door and stepped into a room warmed by the fire she had started earlier in the cast iron stove. The air was redolent with the aroma of the cinnamon she had added to the porridge simmering in a kettle. After pumping water into a wash basin, she washed her hands before drying them on the fresh apron she had donned that covered her long dress, its calico print long since faded by washings and frequent wear. For a moment she stretched her aching back which caused her protruding belly to protrude even further. The baby kicked lustily and Elizabeth smiled tiredly as she ran a hand over the front of her dress. He sure was feisty this morning.

Jed had homesteaded the place with his wife years before. A well running creek ran alongside the cabin with the barn and various outbuildings spread out around it. A fence enclosed a large area beyond the barn where the cow and horses now grazed on frosty grass. Since his death nearly seven months before, she had been for all intents and purposes on her own. Now, with the baby due soon and winter coming on, she was beginning to wish she'd found some way to move into town. But without money or anyone to take her in, she was left with little choice but to remain where she was. There was always the possibility of someone coming to stay with her, of course. The suggestion had been made by an itinerant preacher, but no one had been willing to do so.

After ladling some porridge into a bowl, she took a seat in one of the two chairs that bracketed the small dining table in one corner of the room and began to eat. It was a simple meal but the warmth of the porridge filled her and spread throughout her body. After the chill of the barn it felt pretty good.

About half way through her meal, the sound of something falling heavily on the porch startled her and the spoon dropped from her nerveless hand. Rising slowly from the chair, she stared at the door but there was no other sound. With a glance at the gun hanging on the wall, she slowly opened the door and peered out to find a body lying motionless half on and half off the porch.

“Oh my lord,” she gasped then threw the door open before rushing outside as fast as her pregnant body could move.

He was a big man and he lay face down with one arm outstretched toward the door and the other folded beneath his body. He was dressed in well tailored city clothes that were now ripped and filthy. One side was covered with blood. Easing her way to the porch floor she reached out and gave his outstretched arm a shake.

“Mister? Hey, mister?”

There was no response. Laying her fingers against the side of his neck, she was relieved to find a pulse and she noted that he was breathing without a problem. Carefully she ran her hands searchingly through his short blond hair then around to his forehead and down to his ears, but other than a few streaks of blood she couldn't feel any obvious wounds. She then ran her hands down his body until she felt a suspicious lump on the side of his waist where the most of the blood soaked his once white shirt. She shook his arm once more and was rewarded with a groan.

“Mister? Look, I can't lift you so you're gonna have to help me get you into the house. Can you do that?”

There was another groan and, after a moment, he stirred before lifting his head and trying to lift himself up. Sweat broke from his forehead with the effort. Immediately Elizabeth put a hand on each side of his shoulders to steady him. She didn't miss the Deputy US Marshall badge pinned to his shirt.

“You need to come into the house,” she told him, “I can't see to you out here.”

When he turned his head to look at her, she found herself looking into a hard, handsome face and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He seemed confused at first, then his focus sharpened on her. His expression reflected both pain and urgency but when he started to say something only a harsh croak emerged.

“Don't say anything,” she ordered softly, “Just let me help you get into the house.”

After a moment he nodded and leaned on as she led him the rest of the way onto the porch and into the cabin. There she sat him down on the chair she had just vacated and immediately started unbuttoning his shirt until she reached his waist. There she found a clump of moss barely covering a small hole in his side that still seeped blood. Her lips tightened grimly before she left him to pour hot water from the pot on the stove into a bowl and retrieved the dishcloth from the dry sink. Coming back to him, she removed his shirt before carefully kneeling beside him. Setting aside the moss, she gently used the wet cloth to wash around the wound. He jerked and trembled as the she wiped away the blood and grime, then gingerly began feeling around the hole. She spared a glance upward to make sure he wasn't going to pass out before sitting back and wiping the back of her hand over her cheek.

“You need a doctor,” she told him before shaking her head, “but I don't have a way of getting one. I'll have to do what I can by myself. You've been shot and the bullet is still in there. I'll have to try to take it out. Do you understand?”

The man grimaced and leaned heavily against the table.

“Yes,” he muttered before laying his forehead on one arm on the table top.

Elizabeth clumsily rose to her feet then left him to gather what she needed before preparing a pallet of quilts on the floor beside the stove. Returning to his side, she helped him take the couple of steps necessary to collapse on to the pallet, his breathing rapid and shallow with pain.

“I don't have anything to give you to make this any easier,” she told him, her voice wavering, “so you'll have to lay still. I'll do it as fast as I can.”

He swallowed then nodded, “Just do it.”

The procedure was grueling and seemed to take forever. The man groaned and shuddered but managed to hold himself nearly still while, with the use of a paring knife she'd heated on the stove, she located then extracted the bullet. Mercifully he slipped into unconsciousness as blood gushed anew from the wound. Minutes later she had managed to stem the bleeding and stitch the wound closed. After slathering the wound with honey and medicinal herbs, she bandaged it and sat back on her heals. Feeling his forehead she could tell the expected fever was already taking hold and, using a chair and the table, pulled herself to her feet. After cleaning up the area around him and putting the bloodied rags in to soak, she began collecting the ingredients necessary for the tea she would need to battle the fever.

The fever raged for two days, during which time he would sometimes thrash about mumbling and crying out. Using her body to hold him down, she managed to keep him from tearing the wound open. Only when he was resting quietly would she quickly see to the animals before returning to watch over him. During his bouts with delirium she was able to piece together that he had been part of a botched raid on someone's still operation, and from the sounds of it, a lot of people had died. Remembering the men Jed had associated with, she was pretty sure that Virgil Mangrum was somehow involved. His was the largest operation in the area. And the meanest. And if that were the case it was only a matter of time before he came here asking questions. She could only hope that Jed's association with him would absolve her of any suspicion.

In the early morning hours of the third day the fever finally broke and he settled into a deep restorative sleep. Elizabeth remained on the floor beside him, continuing to wipe his face and forehead with a cool cloth. Eventually, exhaustion overcame her and she fell asleep with her head pillowed on the quilt covering his belly.

Lucas felt as if he were surfacing from some deep well. The first thing he became aware of was pain. The second was that it was daylight and he was inside someplace. Opening his eyes, it took a few moments for them to focus. Then, without moving anything but his head, he looked around and saw that he was inside a two-room cabin. There was a cast iron stove close by that radiated heat and the room was sparsely furnished with a few pieces of rough hewn furniture. He could see a second, smaller room contained a bed covered with a colorfully pieced quilt. Looking down it took a few moments for it to fully register that there was someone sleeping with her head on his stomach. He studied her, taking in fine features and long brown hair that was in danger of falling completely free of the bun on top of her head. One hand rested on his chest, holding a rag as if it had simply dropped there. Exhaustion marred her pretty face but not so much that he couldn't tell that she was young. Not much more than a girl. Looking further, he saw that she was very pregnant.

A sudden pain shot through from his side and he jerked with a moan. The movement jarred the girl awake and she looked up to find his eyes closed and his face contorted in a grimace.

“Mister?” Her voice was like soft music. “Mister? Can you hear me?”

The pain eased and Lucas opened his eyes to find her hovering, her green eyes moving worriedly over his face.

“Wh-where am I?”

His voice wasn't much more than a harsh whisper but she understood. A relieved smile touched her tired face.

“You're in my cabin. You're safe here.”

He shifted carefully, grimacing again against the pain.

“How long?”

“How long have you been here?”

He nodded.

“Almost four days. You were shot but I got the bullet out, then you had a fever. “

He closed his eyes for a few moments then opened them again when she ran the rag gently over his forehead.

“What's your name?” he asked and was rewarded with another smile. He found himself thinking she wasn't merely pretty, but downright lovely.

“Elizabeth Simpson. What's yours?”

“Lucas. Lucas Hawks.”

“I'm pleased to meet you at last Lucas Hawks.”

She sat back and regarded him seriously.

“I have some tea to help with the pain.”

Before he could respond she used a chair and table to maneuver herself to her feet where she stood for a moment as if to orient herself. Once again he noted how advanced her pregnancy was.

“Where is your husband?”

“Jed is dead. There's just me.”

Stepping around him, she took a mug from the dry sink and filled it with something from a small pot on the stove. Moving back to kneel beside him, she lifted his head with one hand and held the mug to his lips with the other.

“This will help.”

He took a sip and grimaced. She smiled apologetically.

“I know it don't taste too good but it does the job. Here, drink some more.”

She managed to get several more swallows down him before laying his head gently back down on the pillow. That small exertion had exhausted him, but he resisted the urge to go back to sleep.

“It's dangerous for me to be here,” he said, his voice still little more than a whisper.

Elizabeth nodded, “I know.”

He studied her for a long moment.

“I'm a deputy US Marshall. They'll come looking for me.”

Again she nodded.

“Yes. You were wearing a badge and you talked while you were out of your head. I think I know what happened, or at least have a notion about it. But as I said you are safe here.” She touched his cheek comfortingly. “Now, go back to sleep for a while. When you wake up next time I'll feed you some broth.”

He nodded wearily, knowing that for the moment he didn't have a choice but to accept the circumstances as they were. He started to say something further but his eyes drifted shut as he slipped quietly back to sleep.

Hours later, Lucas awoke to find Elizabeth rocking gently in a chair beside him as she stitched together pieces of flannel. By the small size of the garment he surmised it must be for the expected baby. His stirring brought her attention up and she smiled as she set aside her sewing.

“Welcome back. How do you feel?”

“Like hell.”

She nodded as she stood, “Yes, I imagine you do. Let me get you some tea for the pain then I have some broth for you. You lost quite a bit of blood and you need it to strengthen you.”

Without waiting for a response, she took the now clean mug from the dry sink and filled it with tea. Carefully she lowered herself to the floor and helped him lift his head from the pillow. He was able to steady the mug with one hand as she held it to his lips. Once it was finished, she awkwardly stood back up with the help of the table and chair then refilled the mug with broth from the stove. Again she lowered herself to the floor.

“I'm sorry I'm not able to offer you a more comfortable bed,” she said as she held the mug to his mouth. “I'd give you mine but as you can see, getting up and down from the floor can be a bit difficult for me right now.”

He shook his head as he laid his head back down

“No need to apologize. I appreciate what you're doing for me.”

She smiled as she ran her hand gently across his forehead to make sure there was no sign of the fever returning.

“Under other circumstances I might have said it's a pleasure.”

This time he rewarded her with a brief smile and she rose awkwardly to her feet once more.

“You said your husband is dead.”

She shook her head and said matter-of-factly, “No, I said Jed is dead. He wasn't my husband.”

He wondered silently why she would frankly admit to such a relationship with no obvious concern for what it meant to her reputation.

“And you live here, alone?”

“Yes.”

He studied her young face for a moment.

“How old are you, if I might ask?”

“I'll be twenty in the spring.”

“Do you not have family that can help you?”

She shook her head and looked away, but not before he saw the flash of intense sadness flash in her eyes.

“No, not anymore.”

Before he could say anything further, she went into the bedroom then emerged moments later carrying a flannel shirt and pair of denim pants.

“I had to burn your clothes.” She told him. “You're taller than Jed was but he was bigger. These should do until I can manage something better.” She knelt once again at his side.“ They'll help keep you warm.”

With some difficulty they managed to get the clothes on him. As expected the pants and sleeves were short on him, but otherwise the clothes were large enough to be comfortable and allow easy access to his wound. Exhausted, Lucas lay back.

“What about my badge?” he asked, knowing how much more dangerous it would be for her were it to be found.

“I hid it where no one can find it.”

He studied her for a moment.

“Why are you doing this? Surely you know the ramifications if you're caught.”

Her expression turned faintly mutinous.

“I do, but I don't condone the actions of some in this valley. They're mean spirited and cruel to those who don't kowtow to them. I watched Jed treat people the same way but had to keep my feelings to myself. I never agreed with him or his ilk. I will not help them persecute anyone for any reason.”

“Then keep the badge hidden,” he instructed, “and if anyone comes looking you can claim ignorance of who I am.”

She didn't answer though the thought obviously troubled her.

“You should get some more rest,” she told him, her tone soothing. “I need to go out and take care of the chores.”

He nodded and watched as she stood. After sliding a shawl over her shoulders, she smiled encouragingly at him before walking out and shutting the door behind her.

It was as she was coming back from the barn that the riders rode up. She counted five of them, led by Virgil Mangrum himself.

“Miz Lizzie,” he greeted her, his phony smile of yellow, tobacco stained teeth barely visible through an unkempt beard.

She nodded in response, “Virgil. What can I do for you?”

“I'm looking for a man we caught raiding our operation. We thought he might have been headed in this direction.”

She pretended to consider what he said then shook her head.

“No. No, I've not seen anyone. Is he dangerous?”

“Yes, he is. Very dangerous. It makes me worry about you being out here all alone like you are.”

“Well, I haven't seen him. If I do, I have Jed's rifle to protect me.”

He stared at her a moment longer then seemed satisfied with what he saw. Nodding once to her he turned without a word and led his men away. Once they were out of sight, she hurried into the cabin and found Lucas struggling up on one elbow. When he saw her walk in he relaxed back.

“Lucas! You shouldn't be sitting up!”

After closing the door and removing her shawl, she knelt, pushed aside the quilt and shirt, and inspected the bandage. Satisfied with no sight of blood, she leaned back and met his worried gaze.

“I need to get out of here,” he told her despite the fact that his effort had taxed his strength,”You're not safe with me here.”

“Not yet,” she responded quietly as she smoothed the quilt back over him. “You're not in any shape to go anywhere. They won't be back, at least for a while.” Her lips curved in a reassuring smile. “Jed's association with Virgil will help keep him away.”

He looked up at her, worry showing in his blue eyes.

“I'm sorry to have involved you in this.”

“Don't be.” Standing back up she regarded him seriously. “I'm doing it of my own free will. You ain't forcing me. And I won't be forced into not helping you, either.”

After a moment he nodded.

“Okay. Fair enough.”

There was a moment of silence before she turned away toward the stove.

“I think you're ready for something a little more substantial than broth tonight. I was thinking some eggs, maybe some toast?”

“I'll have whatever you're having.”

She grinned.

“Eggs and toast it is, then. You just lay there and relax while I fix it up.”

~

Days passed and Lucas grew stronger. Eventually he was able to get off the floor and sit in a chair, though he refused to sit in the rocking chair. That was hers alone, he told her. He began to fret as boredom set in, growing irritable and sometimes seemingly depressed. Finally, one day, Elizabeth decided to entrust him with a treasure.

“Do you read?” she asked as evening was falling. She had lit a kerosene lamp and set it on the table, then stood regarding him solemnly in the warm light. He seemed surprised by her question.

“Yes, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated softly, a little uncertainly. Then she took the lamp with her into the bedroom where she knelt and rummaged through a large cedar chest. Beneath a pile of quilts and other household linens, she withdrew two books. For a moment she ran her hand lovingly over the covers before reaching in again and withdrawing two more, much thinner than the first. After closing the chest, she rose to her feet and, with the lamp in one hand and the books in the other, returned to the table in the front room.

“These were my mother's,” she said as she handed him the first two before taking a seat in the other chair. One was titled Origin of the Species and the other, Jane Eyre. “You can read them if you like.”

Sensing their importance to her, Lucas accepted them with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

She smiled briefly in response then looked away before asking, “Could you do something for me? It's okay if you don't want to but...”

“What do you want me to do?”

She looked away again and took a deep breath. When she face him again, she met his gaze with her own full of both hope and embarrassment. Suddenly, briefly, she was a young girl again. Shy and uncertain.

“Will you teach me to read?” She held out the other two books. “My mother was trying to teach me but we had to do it in secret because my father didn't cotton to women being educated. But Momma had been a school teacher before they married and thought I should learn.”

He took the books from her and found they were McGuffey Readers. He stared down at the covers for a long moment, his heart aching. Finally he looked back at her with another gentle smile.

“I would be honored to help you read.”

She answered him with a brilliant smile that took his breath away at the beauty of it. Lately he'd found himself feeling something more than gratitude and simple liking and he was afraid he was becoming too attached to her. It would be so easy to forget why he was here, to pretend that theirs was a normal relationship. But he could not forget the reality of it. His presence put her in danger and the sooner he moved on the better for her. Looking down at her belly, he was assailed by an equally strong desire to protect. She had told him that, because she and Jed weren't married, no one was willing to help her when the time came for the baby to be born. The only reason she would get occasional help with the farm itself was because those things were considered things of value. She and her child were not. How could he possibly leave her when she was so vulnerable?

Suddenly, he had to know.

“Elizabeth, why weren't you and Jed married?”

Even in the dim light of the lamp he could see the color rise in her face as shame filled her eyes. But she didn't look away. Instead, she bravely met his gaze with her own, steady and unblinking.

“My father sold me to him.”

Lucas' mouth fell open in shock.

“Excuse me?”

“He owed Jed money but couldn't pay him. So he gave me to him instead.”

Lucas felt sick.

“But, honey, that's not possible. It's not legal to own people any more.”

She only shrugged.

“How old were you when this happened?”

Her voice was a whisper.

“I was almost sixteen.”

There were a few moments where nothing was said and Lucas felt his shock turning into a deep and abiding rage toward the men who had done this to her.

“It was wrong, Elizabeth. What they did was wrong.”

She nodded, “I know. But what else could I do? I had nowhere else to go. When I discovered that I was going to have a baby I knew I had to stay here. I have no money and no place else to go. And even if I did go, what kind of life would I be able to give him? I can't read and I've lived with a man out of wedlock. What honorable job could I possibly find to support us?”

Setting the books aside, Lucas rose to his feet and pulled her up and into his arms.

“Ah, honey. I'm so sorry.” His arms tightened. “I would love to beat the hell out of the both of them right now.”

She smiled tremulously and buried her face against his chest, trying not to cry as she enjoyed the first feeling of safety that she'd had in a long time. If ever.

“I wouldn't stop you,” she confessed quietly, before the tears began to fall.

~

Two more weeks passed. The days had grown short as the temperatures dropped. There had been a few flurries, but inside the cabin it remained warm and cozy. Every afternoon Lucas would spend time with her, teaching her from the McGuffey Readers. When she could no longer do so, he assumed the chores around the farm, always taking the gun with him when he went out. But no one ever came to threaten the peace that had settled over the homestead.

Late one night the first of many strong contractions woke Elizabeth from an uneasy sleep. Almost instantly Lucas was at her side and remained there as the night wore on, somehow managing to set aside his own fears to encourage and comfort her. Her labor lasted through the next day until, late in the evening, when Elizabeth delivered a little girl.

After it was all over with, and he had cleaned up mother, baby, and bed, Lucas found himself holding the infant while Elizabeth slept. Enchanted, he gazed down at what he considered perfection. He imagined he could see Elizabeth in the little nose and the shape of the eyes. The tiny cupid's bow lips would make sucking motions as she slept and he couldn't stop tenderly brushing the pink pudgy cheeks with his finger. He had accepted long ago that he had fallen in love with the mother. Now he was falling in love with the daughter. There was no way he was going to leave them, yet he was forever reminded that danger still lurked somewhere beyond the tranquility of the farmstead.

~

One bitterly, blustery cold winter day, the peace was shattered by the sudden sound of boots on the porch followed by a loud knocking at the door. Instantly Lucas was on his feet, urging Elizabeth to take little Marie into the other room. Once she was gone, he lifted the gun from the wall then slowly opened it and peered outside.

A tall, lanky, older man dressed in a heavy wool coat, his head and face covered with a hat and scarf, stared back at him in stark surprise.

“Who are you?” Lucas demanded.

The man quickly responded, “I'm Reverend Thompson. I've come to see Miz Simpson.”

After a moment Lucas opened the door and allowed the man inside. He eyed Lucas briefly before he saw Elizabeth emerge from the bedroom with the baby in her arms.

“Reverend? What are you doing out in this weather?”

After removing the scarf and hat from his head , he warmly smiled at her.

Hello, Miz Simpson. I came to see how you were doing.” He stepped closer to her. “I see the child has arrived.”

Elizabeth smiled softly and turned a bit so he could better see the infant.

“Yes. This is Chloe Marie. I named her after my mother.”

The Reverend chuckled and cooed as the baby stared up at him with solemn eyes. After a moment he turned back to Lucas.

“And what is your name, young man?”

“Lucas Hawks.”

The Reverend's eyes widened.

“Lucas Hawks! You're the marshal they were looking for last fall!”

Lucas' expression was grim and he remained silent, waiting.

“Most extraordinary!” the Reverend continued. “You've been here all along?”

Before Lucas could respond, Elizabeth stepped forward.

“He came here one morning shot and in a bad way. I took care of him and he recovered, and he's been taking care of me, and now Marie, ever since.”

“Extraordinary!” Reverend Thompson repeated. “Then you don't know?”

“Know what?” Lucas growled.

“Why, the revenuers shut old Virgil and his operation down weeks ago. The war is over.”

Both Lucas' and Elizabeth's mouths dropped as they stared first at the Reverend then at each other. Slowly, smiles broke across both of their faces and Elizabeth hurried over to Lucas. Enveloping her in his arms, he held her close to him before turning his smile on the Reverend and extending his hand.

“Thank you, Reverend. That's the best news I've ever had.”

Reverend Thompson smiled as he clasped Lucas's hand with his.

“You're welcome, son.”

“Oh, Lucas!” Elizabeth cried happily. “Can you believe it?”

He hugged her again before taking the baby from her so that Elizabeth could take the Reverend's hand as well.

“Please, Reverend Thompson, we were just about to eat. Please join us.”

He smiled and nodded then proceeded to shed his coat and took the offered seat. After setting a kettle of stew and a plate of cornbread on the table, she took Marie back from Lucas then waited while he pulled the rocking chair up so she could join them. The Reverend said the prayer, thanking God for the food, for Marie's safe delivery, and for Lucas' presence when it was most sorely needed for a young mother alone. The meal was shared with quiet commentary and the occasional sound from Marie, until she began to fuss in earnest and Elizabeth withdrew to the bedroom to feed her. In her absence, the Reverend and Lucas eyed one another across the table.

“So what will you do now, young Lucas?”

The younger man thought for a moment.

“Leave. Go home.”

“Where is home?”

“Upstate New York. My family owns property there and I've been considering building on it for a while.”

“And what about Miz Simpson? What do you propose to do there?”

Lucas glanced at the bedroom and found Elizabeth watching him, her expression frozen as the baby suckled at her breast. He met her gaze and tenderly smiled.

“Actually, Reverend, I had hoped to convince her to accept me as her husband when the time was right.”

The good Reverend grinned and looked back toward the bedroom, which he couldn't see for the stove being in the way.

“Seems like the time is right right now.”

Lucas stood and went to sit beside Elizabeth on the bed. Tears glistened in her hopeful eyes as he took her hand and kissed her palm.

“I love you and I can't imagine living my life without you.” He kissed her palm again then reached up to tenderly cup her face between his hands. “Will you marry me, Elizabeth Simpson? Will you and Marie come home with me?”

The tears fell as she began to sob happily, leaning against him so that the baby squirmed between them.

“Yes, Lucas. With all my heart, yes.”

With great satisfaction, the good Reverend withdrew a small book from his coat pocket and waited patiently. It was as an excellent time for a wedding.