Christmas

Christmas at the Drifting Anchor Ranch was great and terrible.  It was great to share the holiday with Blake.  It started very well on Christmas Eve.  We had such a wonderful community celebration.  It was magical to me watching the little ones get presents from old Saint Nick aka Blake. 

Then everything was ruined.  The owner of one of the saloons heard that I love to sing.  He invited me to sing at his saloon.  He gave me a gift that he said "Wasn't a bribe."  I don't know the man well enough to even remember his name and he gives me a gift?

The most mortifying moment was finding out that he believed that Blake and I are living together, as God intended man and wife to live together.  Yes, we share the same two room house, but we are not and never have been more than friends. 

I am a married woman.  My allegiance is still to Tom.  It's hard to stay guarded with my feelings towards Blake.  He is such a wonderful man.  He is brilliant, talented, loving, and beloved by this town.  He is one of the hardest workers that I've ever seen, and I've seen quite a few hard workers.

The saloon man and Blake got into a fight.  They were quite evenly matched and they gave as good as they got.  Blake was in a lot of pain Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and for a week afterwards.  He didn't let it stop him.  He worked the day after Christmas.  In the evenings Red would rub lineament all over Blake's chest and back.  Blake said that it eased his pain.

In spite of the fight, and the inappropriate proposition from the saloon keeper, Christmas was quite lovely.  Blake gave me a number of things but my favorite gift was the lovely cherry red sleigh.  He is also a very thoughtful man.  OH MY GOODNESS!  I must quit thinking about Blake, Blake, Blake.

Tom.  Not a whisper, not a single word from him.  I try not to worry about him.  He is a very strong man.  He's been close to death more than once and managed to continue to live.  Each day I do my best to focus on the tasks at hand, those in the town that might need my help, usually Dr. Stone, anything but Tom.  If he truly loved me and wished to keep the promise he made with my parents it seems like he would not let anything stop him from contacting me!  Sometimes I'm very angry at him.  Other times I'm scared....so scared....so alone.  I would never say that Tom and I shared a deep passionate type of love, but in my way I did love him, DO love him.

My eyes will not stay open any longer.  Another day is done.

Ardis Journal

Flying, that is what it feels like to ride a horse.  On our farm growing up I had Blackie.  She was the most beautiful horse.  It felt as though we were the closest of friends.  She could not speak my language, but her eyes communicated so many things to me. 

She would listen to me hour after hour as we would ride through the lush springtime in Tennessee.  Her coat was black silk.  I loved to talk to her as I brushed her beautiful coat.  She was not large, but not small.  She was just right for me.

I guess, in the end, she was too small.  Our large stallion mated with her.  When she gave birth, the foal was too large.  They both died.  It was the saddest day of my life at the age of thirteen.  It was only a few more years until my parents both died, and then THAT was the saddest day of my life.

I fear that the dismal gray weather is having an effect on my spirits.  I'm going to go ride Patches, Blake's mare.  She's rather old, but I wish to ride her more for connection than for speed.  She's a dear old lady.  I think Blake said that she's about fifteen.  She still can gallop, just not for very long periods of time.  I love to brush her, and talk to her like I used to with Blackie. 

It's fascinating to me how these noble creatures can communicate so effectively with their eyes.  Patches smiles brightly when I greet her.  Probably half of that smile is for me, and the other part for the apples and carrots I bring to her. 

Blackie saved my life.  I fell down and broke my leg.  Blackie was in a pasture close to where I had fallen.  She jumped over the pasture fence and found my parents in the garden.  Papa said that Blackie kept nuzzling them until she had their attention.  Then she led the way to me.  The doctor said that if I had been outside much longer I would have died from the shock, and the weather.  It had been very cold on that day.

Well this has been a rather sad entry.  I think I'll go for a walk outside.  Some how that always seems to cheer me, even when it's been so rainy!

Ardis Journal

Blake, is strong, patient, caring, and funny.  I'm falling in love with him more each day.  This is not right.  I'm still a married woman as far as I know.  I get frustrated with myself because it's far too easy to compare Blake to Tom.  Tom comes up short.

I've known Tom for most if not all of my life.  He was my friend from the time we were small.  He was actually more like an older brother.  He had no siblings until he was almost an adult.  I never had any siblings.  That seemed to bond us.  Our parents were very close friends as well.  They traveled from Scotland to Tennessee together.

Tom only ever wanted to play three ways.  One was to climb trees.  I enjoyed that the most.  It seemed magical as though we were in fairyland.  (Tom didn't like to consider that there were fairies).  One was to pretend we were horses and gallop about.  The last was to play army and I disliked that game, so much! I never liked to even pretend to hurt any other person.

So I would get bored eventually and go create my own play.  I liked to make fairies out of sticks, leaves, and other things I could find in the forest.  I made about twenty fairies.  I named each one of them.  Then I built them fairy houses.  My favorite fairy was Lunley.  She was the Chief Fairy.  She bossed all of the male fairies around.  I guess I got kind of tired of Tom's bossiness and that was why I created the women leaders.

When it became apparent that both of my parents were dying, our roles changed.  Tom became even more protective. He didn't ask me, he told me that he was going to marry me.  Mama had told me about the birds and the bees.  It was still a strange shock to me after Tom and I were married.  I wanted to feel passion towards Tom but all that I ever felt was a dull fondness.. 

I feel passion for, with, and about Blake.  I crave the gentle touch of his hand on my cheek.  I know that we would have a very different relationship from the one that Tom and I shared.  I only wish that was possible.

Sigh...I must get some rest.  I have lots to do tomorrow.  I just want to lie here in this bed and imagine what life would be like married to Blake Calkin.  Maybe sometime?  No, I can't think this way.  Tom...I do care about him.  The last thing that I want is for him to suffer harm.

Shakespeare said how I feel ever so well, "To sleep, perchance to dream."  Maybe as I dream I can escape the guilty feelings that I have towards Blake.  I will never act on those feelings as long as I don't know if Tom is alive.  Yet dreaming about them, somehow that is innocent, right?

Ardis Journal

Gray, gray, gray, blustery, windy, gray.  I almost wish for snow to fall.  At least it would be some white to relieve the gray of this fall.  If it's already this wet I can only imagine what winter will be like.  I don't remember getting this much rain in Tennessee.  I feel like we're all just going to float away to the Pacific Ocean!

I have been helping Dr. John with his patients.  It doesn't take education to hold a cone of ether over someone's nose, mop the blood from a wound, or mop Doc's brow when he's performing surgery. 

I have to admit, I'm fascinated by modern medicine.  The inside of the human body is truly a creation of wonder.  If I ever believed in the existence of a God, a Creator, the human body would lend itself to that belief.  The amazing processes that must be going on constantly to maintain human life are not, can not be an accident. 

Last week Dr. John worked on a beating heart.  He showed me how the blood pumps the heart.  Amazingly to me, the heart is a muscle, like the ones that help to move our arms, and legs.  I never would have understood that before.  This man had a heart attack so Dr. John found a section that was damaged and repaired it to the best of his ability.  The patient is alive and recuperating so he obviously did something right.

The hard thing about medicine today is that there is no way to look inside the body to determine the problem except by looking at all the symptoms.  If the case is life threatening, then Dr. John opens up the body to assess the problem accurately.  The situation is dangerous because if there are serious health problems going on, the patient may not survive the shock of the surgery. 

Dr. John takes every death of a patient very personally.  I worry about him.  He doesn't seem to know how to separate himself from his patients.  He feels all of their suffering and pain.  I wish he had a loving wife to help him cope with the challenging life that he has chosen.  He says that he doesn't have time to meet or court a woman.  I hope that he doesn't wait too long.  Time goes so fast.

Well I have worked for ten hours today and I can't seem to keep my eyes open.  This is the end of my journal tonight.

Ardis Journal

When the rainy season first started.  I was THRILLED!  The heat, the walking, the indignities of traipsing across the American continent had long lost their luster.  I think I ate more dust than food in that trek!

Lying in bed at night in a snug, safe home, it felt cozy to hear the rain tap tap tapping on the roof.  I felt warm, protected and happy.  I felt that way when it rained for a week.  I felt that way when it rained for two weeks.  When we reached a month I was beginning to feel claustrophobic, like the rain was penning me in!

Unbelievably to me, Blake did not stop working, even when the dirt turned to slick, sloppy, black mud.  He said that the rain made it easier for him to move the giant logs that he's collecting to build a bunkhouse.  He chops down a giant tree, then he strips off all the branches.  He prefers using hardwood, but there is more pine here.  He has come up with ingenious ways of making the pine more durable.

I have the house to myself right now.  I'm enjoying this quiet time to write out my thoughts.  Both of my parents wrote in journals.  They didn't write every single day, but when ever they could.  They told me that they were recording their life experience as they wrote.  Their journals would be a heritage to me, and to my children.  I do treasure them.  I have them with me, here in my room in Blake's home.  Somehow reading their words brings them close to me.

Dr. John and Blake sleep in the other room in Blake's two room house.  We have at least one person stop by almost everyday for Dr. John's medical skills.  He's so patient and kind, and he figures out how to help people very quickly.

I help him.  He says that I'm a natural at nursing.  He's suggested some schools that I could attend back east to become a nurse.  I have explained that I just arrived in the west.  Somehow education across the country holds no appeal to me!

We had an interesting case last week.  A man slipped and fell onto a jagged rock.  He had a deep hole in his leg.  I thought that I would vomit.  I had never before seen the inside of a human body.  I still like skin to cover each and every person!  At the same time it was wondrous to me to see how bone, muscles, and nerves worked together.  Fortunately, the man had not broken the bone, or torn any of the soft tissue. 

Doc had me give him ether to help him be free of pain.  Next Doc cleansed the wound with water, and then alcohol...I believe it was rum?  He mutured that it was a waste of good rum!  I chuckled at that idea.  The wound had small pieces of rock, and lots of mud throughout.  When the water that Doc was using ran clear of mud, that is when Doc poured in the rum.

Next Doc stitched up the wound with tiny, even stitches.  It looked like the stitching that I do sometimes to make samplers, only it was on a human leg?  I asked him how he had learned to stitch a human like he did.  He explained that his mother felt like all humans should know how to mend their clothes and sew on buttons.  Who knew that skill would be used to sew humans up?

Heavens, I just looked at the clock and realized that I must hurry to have a meal ready for Blake and Dr. John.  I will write in here later?







  

Ardis Journal

Our picnic (I LOVE picnics) today was at a place called Fern Falls.  Dr. John came with us.  We had a lovely picnic...even better because I had nothing to do with cooking it!

After eating we decided to hike up a trail that goes around the side of the falls.  We must have hiked about an hour.  We were about to turn back because the path was so narrow and there was a sharp drop to the side.  I'm terrified of heights.  It has nothing to do with reason.  It doesn't matter how much I tell myself that there is no real danger.  I was clinging to the face of the mountain that was on the other side of the path.

Suddenly, the mountain face gave way, and I fell.  I was too terrified to make a sound.  John and Blake saved me from any harm.  I got a little scratched up but nothing significant.  Apparently I had stumbled upon an insignia carved on the side of the trail, and that insignia opened a door into this space.

Well imagine our surprise to find that we were in some sort of sacred place.  It was circular as though marks of a chisel showed that it had all been hollowed by human hands.  There was remnants of a roof above the circular space.  On the walls were amazing paintings that had been carved, and colored in a way that I've never seen before.  Looking more closely at them I realized that some of them seemed to be from the Bible.  Adam and Eve were there together, then Cain killing his brother Able.

The next portions told different stories from the Bible.  Reaching the second half of the room I noticed that these panels were still sacred but their story was not told in the Bible.  I saw a people that built a boat and sailed.  Next I saw that they built homes in the wilderness.  Then something or someone in human form was coming down from the sky towards them.  A man was all in white, and he was blessing children.  Last panel showed people in a boat again traveling on water.

All of a sudden, the silence began to feel oppressive.  I felt the small hairs at the back of my neck rise.  I knew exactly what I was feeling.  It was like the times that I have witnessed somebody die.  There have been way too many of those times in my life.

Apparently Blake felt the same way.  John wanted to study all of the pictures more.  Blake and I left with John promising to come soon.  That was when the water party began.  It was so innocent and fun.  Honestly, I didn't feel guilty, well probably a little.  I kept telling myself that Blake and I were like brother and sister, we weren't doing anything wrong.

The trip home was not as much fun as the trip to the falls.  We couldn't get John to say a word.  He seemed overwhelmed by something he saw in that place.  Finally, I fell asleep.  When I woke up I was safe in my bed.

Ardis Journal

How can a person possibly use words to describe the Pacific Ocean?  The majesty, the immensity, the powerful sound of water moving forward and back, forward and back...the sound feels healing.  John, Blake, and I rode down early this morning. 

We brought a picnic lunch, that John made, thank heavens.  I fear that if I had tried to fry the chicken, or mix the potato salad, I would somehow wind up poisoning us!  My attempts to cook continue.  It's ever so frustrating.  I was a fairly decent cook at home, even if I do say so myself.    It seems that the key was that I knew exactly how much wood to load to determine the heat I needed for whatever I am cooking.

Blake has a lovely new stove.  It feels so much harder to me to regulate the heat.  Sometimes I burn everything...sometimes I don't get food cooked all the way through.  John doesn't seem to have that problem at all.  Everything he cooks is delicious from sourdough bread, to fried chicken.

Also excellent at using the stove is Blake.  I'm quite certain that he asked me to cook and clean to earn my keep was a poorly veiled attempt to make me feel better about living in HIS house, eating HIS food, and being a worthwhile contributor.

How I adore running into the waves as they retreat, and then running as rapidly as I can when they return to try and outrun them  It feels like a game.  Sometimes I dance in the waves.  I am not a particularly skilled dancer but the feel of the cold Pacific water, with the sand moving under my feet, somehow makes me feel as talented as the greatest prima ballerina.

I had fun splashing Red and Blake...until...until they picked me up and tossed me out in the waves.  Gratefully it was a hot day.  Heat is unusual here at the coast.  It's usually around sixty five to seventy in the Astoria area.  Today was eighty degrees.  Landing in the cold water I sunk rapidly, gaining a mouthful of salty sea.  I came up spluttering. 

I was angry for a short time.  Women are expected to wear so many clothes.  Walking about in soaking wet pantaloons, underskirts, overskirts, corset, chemise, skirt and blouse felt awful.  It was cooling at first but quickly grew to feel as though I was being steam cooked.

Apparently Blake had thought ahead to this eventuality.  He brought himself a change of clothes.  I dressed in a forested area not too far from the waves.  I felt rather ridiculous in Blake's clothes.  After all he is six foot four, and I am five foot eight.  Everything was exceedingly loose.  On the other hand, it was far better than wearing all of the wet clinging clothing.

I put my clothes on a large log of driftwood that was on the beach.  I hoped that they would dry before we returned home.  I was tempted to toss my corset into the waves and have it carried far, FAR away from me.  It is a horrible device of torture.  It reduces the size of my waist, but who cares?  Tom never tried to span my waist with his hands.  I don't think Blake and John even notice that I have a waist.

I felt so free inside Blake's very loose clothing.  I took all of the pins out of my hair, rebraided it, and pinned it up even more tightly.  Then I considered.  If it felt so freeing to wear loose fitting men's clothing, maybe it would feel equally freeing to let my hair just flow with the wind.  I took out each and every hair pin and brushed my fingers through my hair. 

When I came back out on the beach John and Blake were both silent for a long, awkward moment.  John finally said, "Ardis, you have lovely hair.  You should wear it down more often." 

I'm not used to masculine attention.  My husband never said one single word about how I looked for good or for bad.  I sometimes felt that Tom viewed me as indifferently as he would a rock, or a tree.  I was appreciated for utility, not aesthetics.

Our day was wonderful.  We walked, talked, walked some more, talked some more.  I learned that John came from a very wealthy family.  Apparently they were horrified when he decided to practice medicine in the wild northwest. 

Blake is quite guarded in his discussion of his family and childhood.  The fact that he says so very little make me even more curious.

We returned home late, tired, and sunburned.  I'm going to sleep now.