Colorado Hope(22)
Malcolm Connors extended his arm as a cool breeze riffled through his hair and he took in the town. She gave him a smile as he wrapped the thick woolen shawl around her shoulders and stepped carefully down to the hard-packed dirt street. Stella surveyed with delight the many brightly lit shops in the waning evening light. Their two draft horses pawed the snow-dusted street in front of the wide wooden boardwalk fronting the business district of Fort Collins on College Avenue. The scent of pine and snow filled his nose as he looked around with curiosity at this place that would now be their home. As glad as he was to finally arrive, an sense of trepidation rumbled in his gut.
They had finally made the trip over from Greeley, and he looked forward with anticipation to picking out a parcel to homestead. He was glad to leave that tiny dilapidated cabin behind, and the thought of building a house stirred his excitement. Although, his lack of memories dampened the elation, creating an unease that simmered without letup underneath his feelings.
He watched his wife look into the windows of a dry goods store and sighed. These last few months would have been unbearable had it not been for his sweet Stella. She had painstakingly nursed him back to health when he’d been at death’s door. With the patience of a saint, she had sat with him as week after week showed no sign of his memory returning. He hadn’t missed the great sadness in her eyes as she recounted their prior years together in St. Louis, how they’d met on a paddle steamer on the Mississippi and fell in love—two young adventurers with the past left far behind them. How he wished he could remember!
His heart wrenched when she told him the horrifying story of the fire, and how her family had all perished when she was but a child. He learned his parents had succumbed to a virulent influenza that had spread like wildfire through the northern hills of Missouri, where he’d been born and grew up, only a year after he’d left home to work as a surveying apprentice in the city. He’d soaked up every tale she told, wishing he could remember something, anything. But the only images that came to him were in his restless dreams at night, where he rode down roaring rivers in canoes, and water tossed and tumbled him. No doubt these nightmares were due to his falling into the river and getting tangled in that tree.
“Darling, look,” his wife said, pulling his attention to her. “There’s a sweet little dress shop yonder.”
She pointed down the long wooden boardwalk past a large white stucco building that looked like a mercantile, then turned to him and gave him that pouty look that made it hard for him to deny her. “I’m going to need a lot of dresses.”
She eyed the women walking along the boardwalk, no doubt assessing their fashion sense. Malcolm smiled, glad to see her so happy and wanting to give her everything she desired. She looked so comely in her green silk dress, and he reminded himself what a lucky man he was. Stella had given up much to spend her days and nights in that unfurnished mildewed cabin, as he moaned and tossed and suffered through his recovery. She’d brought an Indian woman over—a local medicine woman named Sarah—who gave them herbs and poultices, which aided greatly in his physical recovery. But nothing could be done for his head injury, which had healed on the outside, the scar unnoticeable under his head of hair. He feared his memory would never return.
But he knew he shouldn’t be disgruntled. He should be grateful for his blessings. He had his health back, and was married to a beautiful, devoted woman who looked after his every need, although her cooking left much to be desired. Good thing he knew his way around a stove, and cooked most of their meals, despite Stella’s playful protestations. He often surprised himself with the tasty dishes he instinctively knew how to make. Must have been from living on his own those many years in St. Louis.
Malcolm gestured in the other direction. “The land office is over there. I’ll probably be a while, so take your time—picking out patterns and fabric, or whatever it is you need to do to get yourself a passel of beautiful dresses.”
She twirled around in her pretty green dress flouncing with petticoats, and tightened the bonnet strap under her chin. To his chagrin, she leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips and he blushed, aware of eyes upon them. Such a public display of intimacy unsettled him, and that was one thing about Stella that took getting used to.
“Now,” she said with her cute little pout, “remember what I said. I want something far out of town, on a creek, with some pretty trees by the water.” She put a finger on his lips. “I know you want to be close to town, but we spent years in a city—and although you don’t recall that, I do. I want some privacy.” She ran her other hand down from his chest to his belt buckle, then leaned close and whispered hotly in his ear. “And I don’t want anyone to hear us when we’re . . . well . . .”