Charlotte Richmond started thinking that her father might be right, or at least partly.
Throughout the ride all the way from Minneapolis, she was sure that all this was a waste. She figured the best thing would have been to stay back in the city and die. She had been close enough to death anyway, at least until the fever started to subside.
And now she was here. Her fever was gone, she was not dead, but she wasn't feeling much better either... until the countryside started to dominate her vision. All her life she had been surrounded by brick buildings, glass windows, and dusty streets packed with people. She was accustomed to the dirty air clogged with smoke from a thousand chimneys, everything reeking of horse manure.
But for the moment, everything was clear. The old city had faded away. Earlier in the day, she had gotten into the habit of looking over her shoulder to see the metropolis fade behind her until it was the smallest dot on the horizon. But now even that dot was gone, and everything was grassy plains and golden hills.
The sight was only distantly familiar to her, since her Uncle Samuel used to take her out on long road trips for fun when she was a girl. He was here with her now, sitting beside her on the buckboard, his thick white mustache completely covering his mouth as he concentrated on the road ahead.
The air was lighter here, it seemed. Lighter, cleaner, brighter. The buckboard rattled terribly across the dirt road, which made Charlotte feel deathly ill in the beginning of their journey, but she had grown somewhat accustomed to it over the hours. Still, several times she had to lay down in the back of the wagon with their bags because she didn't have the strength to even sit upright. She knew it was pathetic, and it made her angry and sad.
But she was at least glad that she felt a certain lightness now. Nothing substantial, but her terrible migraine and dizziness both subsided. Unfortunately, the fever of last week still left her body weak and thin. She was surprised her father made her take this trip, with her destination being so far away. It certainly sapped the energy from her, but at least the view was nice.
"Won't be but an hour or two more," said Uncle Samuel with a big smile. Samuel was an old man, older than her father by ten years, though he seemed an eternity younger because he was always happy. Charlotte loved being with him ever since she was a child. He had been a true cowboy in his younger days, wandering the plains of Kansas and the mountains of Montana in the fifties.
Now, he was still a wanderer, though his leather-like skin worn from the old Western sun and thinning white hair showed his age, and he dared not wander as far as before.
In recent years, he preferred to stay close to Charlotte, who seemed to never be well. Charlotte loved him dearly and considered him a second father, especially since he was kinder and more affectionate than her real Pa, and certainly more enjoyable to be around.
"I'm sorry I haven't been much fun on this trip," Charlotte said breathily. For the moment, she had the strength to sit up tall at the front of the buckboard, watching the two horses kick up some dirt and dust as they made their way across the prairie.
"Now, Charlie, the only way you could take the fun out of this trip is by not bein' here. And you're here, ain't you?"
She smiled at him. Only he and her father ever called her Charlie. She used to despise it as a girl since children at school teased her for it being a boy's name, but now she found it charming. "I hope father's cabin will still be there. He said he hasn't visited it in decades, and I've certainly never seen it myself."
"I camped out there only a few years ago," Samuel replied, hunched over the reins, one calloused hand holding his hat to keep it from flying away in the newfound breeze. "It's a little worse for wear, but it could still be worse. Now, I reckon we'll have to fix it up a little, but don't you worry. I'll do the heavy lifting, and you can rest like your Pa ordered."
Charlotte paused a moment, thoughtful. She had such a depressing outlook on this whole venture since her father sent her out. Though he did it out of love and hope that the countryside would improve her health, she couldn't help but be bitter about it, leaving home. But now she had a more positive thought. "Is it a beautiful place? Where the cabin is?"
"I'd say so, yes. The cabin's little ways out of Walnut Grove, so we'll get plenty of peace and quiet. You can hear the birds for once instead of a hundred wagons clattering in the street right outside your window. It's atop a hill, so you can see all around, and the finest prairie winds blow through there. I don't always agree with your father, but I do say I believe living in a place like that for some time will take you out of your usual spells."
"And what if nothing changes?" Charlotte inquired. "What if I get another fever, and another, just like in Minneapolis?"
"Then I'll have to take you to the dern Rocky Mountains myself," Samuel said with a laugh. "I been there, and the air's as pure as the snow itself. But I reckon our little cabin on the hill outside of Walnut Grove will do you just fine." He saw the worry and doubt in her face and took her hand. "I guarantee there'll be a change in you yet, Charlie. Just got to give it all a chance. Take your time to rest, meet some new folks, eat some good old farm food. And you got your old Uncle Samuel here to pester you all the while, so what have you got to mope about?"
She smiled and felt some hope at his words, but she still felt immense sadness in her. She felt that by coming here, to this little down in the middle of nowhere, her life was truly over.
The earth around her was as bright as spun gold, and the sky was a deeper blue than she had ever seen, swirling with birds that pierced the air like bullets, but it still felt like the end of everything for her. The end of her concerts, the end of charging audiences with joy as she played the piano like few could.
Performing on the piano had been the only thing she could do. Her only talent. Now it seemed that was taken from her too. She wanted nothing more than to dig herself a hole and lie down in it forever. It took all her might to keep from crying because she knew how it would upset her uncle. So, she bit her lip and gave Samuel a little smile before setting her eyes on that bright and shining horizon, rippling with grass.
After another hour, her eyelids dropped, and she fell into a half-slumber. It seemed impossible to sleep when the buckboard's seats were so hard, the terrain was so bumpy, and the wheels were so loud. But she did get a bit of rest for a few minutes. Samuel was glad about that. He knew the young lady was weak, perhaps weaker than she had ever been.
He remembered her in her feverish state one week ago. Her small body in her white nightgown tucked away in her bed in the dark, only a sliver of grey, cloudy light peaking through her heavy bedroom curtains. He had arrived at once as soon as her father, James, wrote him about her condition. At a certain point, it was impossible to wake her.
She seemed dead, if not for the thick beads of sweat that clung to her and the intense heat that radiated from her skin. Samuel prayed hard for the Lord not to take her, and it seemed the Lord listened.
He still worried about her, even when she seemed smiley and a bit stronger. Her spells took her so frequently and so intensely, ever since she was a child, that it seemed impossible that she would ever lead a long life, let alone a healthy life.
But he did believe that going out to the country as his brother had recommended would do her plenty of good. He could remember taking her out on horse rides when she was little, out to the outskirts of the city, and how much she had enjoyed it. She's been cooped up in the city for too long, he thought.
He never felt his best when trapped under a city's heavy atmosphere either, though he had never truly been sick a day in his life. He would bet on his own mother's grave that some country life would help Charlie, at least a little, and he knew for a fact that the townspeople were kind and welcoming. That ought to help her relax a bit and crawl back out of her shell.
"Looky there," Samuel said eventually when the small shapes of wooden buildings began to appear. "That there's Walnut Grove. All we've got now is to drive on through to the path that brings us to the cabin. Cabin's not more than twenty minutes from town, you know. That's a short distance, compared to some of the other homes you'll find out here."
The sight of the town on the horizon made Charlotte's heart jump, but not necessarily in a good way. She was greatly relieved to know that the journey was almost over, and she could lay down and rest somewhere. But the idea of driving straight through down where there might be so many people made her terribly anxious.
"Can't we drive around the town, Samuel?" she asked, trying to hide the desperation in her voice. She dearly didn't want people to see her. She didn't want anyone to see her ever again.
"Now, why would you want that? You're gonna be here for the next few months, or at least until you're back on your feet. You've got to meet the folks here sometime. And I say, they're good folks, better than most, and certainly better than the city folk you've been hangin' around with."
"Samuel, please, I don't want anyone to see me."
Samuel raised a bushy white eyebrow. "You're actin' like you've got the head of Medusa. You're still upset about your spell at the concert, hm? Charlie, that happened more than a month ago. Why don't you forget it? You can't keep yourself locked up forever."
"Please," she said again, looking him in the eye with a desperate glare. He tried to give her a firm stare, but he could see she was truly afraid. He melted this time, but he assured himself he wouldn't melt the next. He pulled on the reins and took a wide birth around town up a steep hill and back down on the other side of it.
Charlotte was so relieved by the move that she could have almost cried. From a distance, she could see a few people bustling around town. It was less busy than she thought, and there were far fewer buildings than she realized, too. Only a handful. In fact, she didn't think she ever saw such a small settlement. She noticed a mill, a little white schoolhouse, and a few other minor buildings, like a store and a post office. She didn't look at them for long, and she was glad to put the little town behind her, staring ahead again at the wide-open prairie.
And not long later, at long last, their old cabin appeared in their vision. Samuel was right about it being on a fine little hill. It looked over everything, all the hills and the golden grass, and more distantly, a little grove of trees. It reminded her of an oil painting she once saw in a museum. It was the true countryside. The air smelled different, tasted different.
She could detect the smell of the dry grass and distant wildflowers, and perhaps even farther, out of sight, a cool and dewy little stream. There was no longer the constant smell of manure and axel grease that gave her so many migraines.
Up close, their cabin was very small, and the wood had been partly eaten away by insects. At first, Charlotte was mortified that the cabin was too destroyed to sleep in, and they'd have to stay somewhere in town. But once they dismounted the buckboard and went inside, she was relieved to find that it wasn't all that bad.
The interior was surprisingly intact, though there were spiderwebs and dust everywhere. There was a small parlor with a large stone fireplace, two little armchairs caked with dirt, and a tiny round dining table with no more than five chairs about it. She was very surprised to see a piano in the corner, but she didn't get too excited since it looked so old she doubted it could produce any good music.
There were two bedrooms, though they could hardly be called that. Each was scarcely larger than a closet with only enough room for a single bed in each.
Somehow, Charlotte didn't mind any of it. She thought she would, and found she didn't. She had never stayed in a place like this, and she liked the smell of the raw wood inside. The home where she lived with her father was mostly brick and wallpaper, and it was always cold, even when every single fireplace was lit.
This place seemed automatically warm, and there was not a lick of flame in sight. "Well, my little lady, we made it," said Samuel, hauling a couple of their large bags in from the buckboard. He dropped them both on the ground near the door where they kicked up a mighty big plume of smoke. "Me and your Pa used to use this place as a sort of homebase for our hunting adventures... though it's clear as day that it hasn't been used that way in a long time."
"We ought to clean up a bit," Charlotte said, coughing. Though, she didn't know how she'd have the energy. Just walking to the front door from the wagon caused her legs to shake, and she felt breathless.
"For once in my life, I'll do the cleanin'," Samuel announced, smiling as always. He grabbed her gently by the shoulders and led her outside into the grass, leaving her for a moment and coming back with a thick blanket from their luggage. He spread the blanket out upon the grass and had her sit down in the sun.
"Now, you stay there and rest. I'd have you rest in one of the beds, but it looks like some rat droppings have made them their homes for now. I'll see what I can fix up and I'll bring you back inside when I'm finished. Don't want you to have to strain your lungs any more than necessary. After all, the only reason you're here is to get some fresh air, and right now that cabin's anything but fresh."
With that, he disappeared into the cabin, whacking away spiderwebs and blankets of dust the best he knew how. Looking out over the prairie, she had to admit it was indeed a beautiful place. Mighty tall hills travelled all the way to the horizon, and she could hear the rustle of the distant trees. She hadn't realized how many things here were different from the city. The sounds, the smells, even how the air felt on her skin.
Though she wasn't sure if she could ever shake the fear and misery deep in her bones, she could at least enjoy this moment and this place for a time.