Raylene remembered visiting their northern relatives as a child, and at the time the house had seemed modest compared to the sprawling home with outdoor kitchens, stables and miles of land her father owned as a breeder of race horses. After the start of the war, when it became probable the fighting would continue longer than anyone had anticipated, Raylene’s mother had sent trunks packed with her silver, satin gowns, books and jewelry north, asking her brother to store them for safekeeping.
Kneeling to open one of the trunks, Raylene pushed aside tissue paper and fingered an emerald green gown, seed pearls sewn in floral designs across the voluminous skirt. She pushed the fabric aside to see what remained at the bottom. She’d already sold half of the silver to afford taxes on this house as well as purchase wood for the stove, oil for lamps, and supplies for cooking, cleaning and laundry.
Thank God for her mother’s insight and planning. The woman hadn’t survived to require use of the reserve herself, which had broken Raylene’s heart. They’d all been unprepared for the hardships, but as a genteel wife and mother, a delicate flower and the epitome of a Southern belle, she hadn’t had the strength or stamina for what had befallen her family.
Raylene found what she’d been searching for and removed a silver infant cup engraved with a horse and the Winston Farms monogram, several miniature spoons and a rattle. She tied them in her apron and closed the trunk.
Near one wall were canvas-draped forms she’d only glimpsed previously. She pulled back the dusty covers to reveal stacks of dining chairs, small side tables, game boards and a large rocking cradle. Hoping for a bureau from which she could simply take a drawer, this was an unexpected and pleasing discovery. She moved aside crates and furniture to drag the cradle to the top of the stairs. She then replaced the canvas covers and headed downstairs in search of Meriday.
Sometime later, the two of them had the cradle on the back porch, where they washed and waxed the wood. “We’ll have to make padding for the bottom,” Meriday said.
“We can use the worn sheets we weeded out of the linens and saved,” Raylene agreed. “They’re soft.”
Meriday straightened and wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist. “Mrs. Harper sells down and feathers after she harvests those ducks of hers.”
“Take some coins from the coffee tin in the pantry and buy us a pillowcase full, if you will.”
“I’ll wash up.”
After finishing the pen, complete with a gate, Tanner Bell had been gone for the past hour, but he returned now with a goat in the cart. He lifted the animal down and led it into the yard with a rope lead.
“I’ll stack a few hay bales and make a small shelter area to keep her out of the wind and cold,” he called to Raylene.
“There’s a shed out back there that doesn’t have much in it,” she answered. “You can always make her a place in there if need be.”
Tanner observed the young woman as she approached and pointed toward the shed with an upraised slender arm. She had covered her hair with a faded scarf, and he missed the sun on her golden waves.
“That will be safer for overnights,” he said.
She stepped off the back porch. “Does this goat have a name?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” She was slender, with delicate wrists and a narrow waist. He acknowledged he was grieving his sister. He’d been looking forward to sharing a home with her and to having family near, so undoubtedly a pretty young woman like Raylene Cranford only reminded him of his loss.
She propped a hand on her hip. Even in a faded print dress and a wrinkled apron, her voice and demeanor sorely pointed out his lack of companionship. A Southerner who put on airs had no appeal for him, but today, dressed like this, she seemed more down-to-earth.
“She needs a proper name. We can’t be calling her goat.”
“Fine with me.”
The back door opened and closed with a creak of the hinges, and Raylene’s companion waved. “I’m back.”
Raylene turned and called to her. “Meriday! What shall we name this animal who will help us provide for the baby?”
The other female joined her and they knelt on the grass, their skirts puddling around them as they petted the goat. Their only physical commonality was their slenderness and gender, because Raylene was fair and Meriday dark-skinned.
Raylene stroked the animal’s neck. “Look how she’s mostly white, but her backside is brownish and her face is gray.”
“And she has this dark gray line along her back,” Meriday pointed out.
A few years ago, Mrs. Cranford had likely danced at parties and captivated young men with her charm. She’d been married and widowed and somehow survived in the South throughout the war before inventing a way to support the two of them here. The way they enjoyed petting the animal pointed out that everyone appreciated small comforts.
Meriday glanced up. “What will we feed this animal, Mr. Bell?”
“I’ll bring hay and alfalfa. She’ll eat corn, weeds and grass, scraps from vegetables. And when outside the pen, she’ll forage. Her food will need to be in a trough or pail. My friend, Samuel, told me goats don’t eat grain off the ground. And, of course she’ll require fresh water.”
“I’ll keep her water fresh,” Meriday assured him. She looked at Raylene. “Do you remember Lula Mae?”
Raylene stood with a nod and brushed her hands together. She glanced at Tanner. “My daddy had a horse with similar coloring named Lula Mae. He claimed the horse’s looks were deceiving because she wasn’t particularly beautiful, but she was strong and fast.”
“A horse for a team or one he rode?” he asked.
“My daddy bred race horses,” she explained. “Winston Farms in South Carolina was our home. It was beautiful there. Green pastures with white fences and a big house surrounded by magnolia trees.”
A rich landowner father with stables filled with purebred horses sounded about right for a woman named Missus Raylene Cranford.
“Meriday’s daddy was a trainer,” she added. “She and her family had their own house.”
That explained a lot too. Because of their prestige, trainers and jockeys were as respected as the horse owners.
“What did your husband do, Mrs. Cranford?”
“He studied engineering at West Point and later became a military aid and an officer,” she answered.
Which made Mr. Cranford an excellent match for a landowner looking for a husband for his sheltered and cosseted daughter. “Shall we call this goat Lula Mae?” he asked.
“Thank you for allowing us the indulgence of naming her,” Raylene said in all seriousness.
Meriday stood. “Where is your daughter?”
“She’s with Mrs. Jenkins today while I’m making these preparations.” He glanced at Raylene. “I’ll be moving a few things to my room later, and then I’ll go get her.”
“Yes, of course.” Raylene gestured for him to follow her to the back porch. “Come see what we’ve prepared.”
He followed the two women up the creaking steps. They parted to reveal a shining dark-wood cradle, well-crafted and obviously quite heavy. The wood had been polished until it gleamed.
“How did you come by this?” he asked.
“It was in the attic. Apparently, it belonged to my uncle’s children. I only met them a few times when we visited. I didn’t know the family well. Did you?”
“I knew Vernon because he was the banker, but not other than that.”
“I was the only family left to inherit the house,” she told him. “I didn’t learn that until Meriday and I arrived. In sixty-one my mother sent trunks here for safekeeping, and after the war ended, we made our way here to recover them. I had no idea we would have a place to live once we got here. I’d simply hoped to rely on my uncle’s kindness. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know him.”
Meriday dragged a pillowcase from where it had been leaning against the house. “We’re going to make a nice soft mattress now. I got down from Mrs. Harper.”
&n
bsp; Tanner couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat. He didn’t dare lift his gaze to either female, because he didn’t know if he could hold his composure. These two delicately-built women had gotten that heavy cradle down from the attic and taken great care to clean and shine it. They’d used their own earnings to purchase down, and now they were preparing to sew and stuff a mattress for a child they didn’t know—had never met, but had agreed to care for together. He waited a full minute until the overwhelming emotion subsided and he could look up.
He pressed his lips together.
Were their expressions sympathetic or merely curious? He couldn’t tell. “I don’t know how to thank you. I’ll be frank. I’ve been concerned about my niece’s well-being. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t think either of you know what you’ve agreed to do. But today, because of your kindness, my worries are fewer. It’s plain to me that you’re invested in this child.” He passed a hand over his face and rubbed his chin. “That puts my mind at ease. So, thank you.”
“We’re going to do our best, Mr. Bell.” Raylene reached for Meriday’s hand, and the two women stood with hands clasped, a breeze ruffling their skirts. “There’s not much we can’t handle together.”
There was a lot he didn’t know about these young women, but he knew what he needed to know for now. He cleared his throat. “After Lula Mae has had a chance to eat and drink and make herself at home, I’ll give you your first lesson in milking. And don’t carry in that cradle without my help. I’ll be back.”
They broke apart and set themselves to their next tasks.
Chapter Three
After showing the women how to milk the goat, Tanner enlisted Samuel’s great-nephew to accompany him to the Cranford house and help him carry the cradle up the stairs to his room. John Jay was a hardworking young man, tall and broad-shouldered, who worked at the grain mill during the day and helped Tanner at the livery evenings and weekends.
Raylene set out tall glasses of lemonade and tasty sugar cookies and offered them seats at the kitchen table.
“Thank you, Mrs. Cranford,” John Jay told her. “I haven’t had a cookie like this since my mama used to make them.”
“I can’t take credit for the cookies,” Raylene answered. “Meriday learned to bake confections at an early age. I believe she’s arranging supplies in the pantry. Meriday,” she called. “Our guests are enjoying your cookies.”
The young Negro woman entered the kitchen and stood nearby, obviously uncomfortable.
“Meriday, this is John Jay. He’s Mr. Bell’s friend.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” she said.
“Pleased to meet you, miss.”
“I could put on a pot of coffee if you’d like some,” Meriday offered.
“Oh, no thank you, miss. I enjoyed the cookies and lemonade, though. I’d best be on my way.” John Jay stood and moved toward the back door.
Tanner exchanged a glance with Raylene and pushed his own chair back. “I’ll be going to get the baby now before Mrs. Jenkins closes the store.”
“You’ll be here for supper?” Raylene asked.
“Yes’m.”
A couple of hours later, Tanner had cleaned up, changed clothes and was enjoying his first meal at the boarding house. When he didn’t cook for himself on the old stove in his small room at the livery, he ate either at the hotel dining room or the saloon, so a meal at a table with others was out of the ordinary. He appreciated both the company and the food.
They sat comfortably in Raylene’s well-appointed dining room. After preparing supper, his landlady had changed into a deep rose-colored dress with lace edging her collarbone. She and Meriday had served the meal and seated themselves, Raylene at the head of the table and Meriday at her side. The women had fried a platter of chicken, mashed potatoes and served greens and biscuits. Raylene had immediately taken the baby from him and told him to eat.
He’d grown up in Twin Springs and knew the other boarders. Emerald Cameron had been Tanner’s elementary teacher and was now retired. “I was so sorry to hear about Vivian,” she said to him.
“Thank you, Miss Cameron.”
“She was a lovely girl. So smart, and she had a passion for the classics. She went through my entire personal library by the age of twelve.”
He nodded. “She loved to read.”
Raylene had ignored her plate of food and was holding the flannel-wrapped baby. She ruffled her fingers through the infant’s soft dark hair. “Did your sister have hair like yours?”
“Yes, she did,” he replied. “We inherited wavy hair from our mother.”
“Did you hear the church has hired a new minister?” Emerald asked. “He is arriving this week.” Reverend McGregor is staying on for a few months until the new minister is settled in.”
“I hadn’t heard,” Raylene commented.
“Tanner, you must have a proper dedication,” Emerald added, and he suspected that was why she’d brought up the topic in the first place.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he said. “I suppose Vivian would have wanted that for the baby.”
His former teacher nodded. “Indeed, she would.”
There was a lot he still had to figure out.
“The goat has a name, but we’re still referring to this child as ‘baby?’” Raylene’s well-placed rebuke pierced Tanner with fresh regret. He agreed his niece deserved a name, but who was he to impose something so important on the child? Her mother should be naming her. Her mother should be here. He rubbed the ache in his chest with a thumb.
“Wasn’t your mother’s name Dillie?” Emerald asked with a bright expression on her wrinkled and powdered face.
“Her given name was Hildegard, but she was only ever known as Dillie,” he replied. “But I don’t think Vivian would have named her Dillie.”
“What about Hillie?” Almira Hobbs suggested. The woman had been married to the first newspaperman in Twin Springs until he’d run off with an actress from a traveling show. As far as Tanner knew, she never spoke of him and had effectively run the Springs Times on her own throughout the war years until recently selling the business.
Tanner only nodded.
Abraham Quint ate his supper without looking up. The man had been a surveyor for the railroad, and no one was quite certain how or why he’d ended up in Twin Springs. Raylene had explained that, except for meals, she rarely saw him. He stayed in his room or often left for the day.
Meriday finished her meal and reached for the baby. “I’ll hold her, and you eat now.”
Raylene relinquished the infant and unfolded her napkin. “We will need another place for her to sleep when she’s not upstairs in her cradle. If I’m down here, I may not hear her when she wakes.”
“Mrs. Jenkins was using a woven laundry basket today,” Tanner replied. “I’ll buy one from the mercantile tomorrow.”
Raylene gave an approving nod. “That sounds perfect.”
“We have down remaining for padding,” Meriday added. “The cradle pad didn’t take it all.”
“Mary is President Lincoln’s wife, God rest his soul,” Emerald suggested, undeterred by the bed conversation. “Mary is a nice practical name.”
“Betsy is a good name,” Almira suggested. “Betsy Ross was a patriot, and she outlived three husbands.”
“It’s short for Elisabeth,” Emerald added in her schoolteacher voice. “She was born a Quaker, you know.”
Raylene looked over and met Tanner’s gaze. He’d never seen her smile, but there was a glimmer of humor in her eyes right now.
He’d better choose a name soon or there would be no other topic of conversation at meal time. “I’ll think it over tonight,” he assured them. “You’re absolutely right, Mrs. Cranford. My niece deserves a name.”
Abraham and the two older women finished their meals and excused themselves. The front door open and closed.
“Mr. Quint often leaves after supper,” Raylene mentioned. “The ladies enjoy the evening in the si
tting room, reading or doing needlework. Feel free to make use of the house as you like. My uncle had a nice library. There’s no wood in there for a fire, but there are lamps for light. Or you’re welcome to take books to your room if you prefer.”
“After I give my niece her next bottle, I’ll need to go check on my horses before nightfall. I’m used to living in the same building with the animals, so this will be a new routine.”
“Yes, of course. Whenever you need to go out, bring the baby to one of us. Or let us know she’s sleeping and we’ll keep an eye on her. We will work it out together.”
Her kindness and willingness to help took a big portion of his concerns off his mind. She seemed distant much of the time, even impractical with her attention to propriety and appearances, which he supposed was natural considering her upbringing as the only daughter of a rich Southern landowner. However, the way she looked at the baby, her consideration for her welfare—the cradle—insisting she needed a name—each of those actions showed her thoughtfulness and kindness. He was immeasurably grateful to her and couldn’t imagine what he’d have done without her help.
“Mrs. Cranford. Miss Meriday. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your kindness. I’m paying you, yes, but what you’re doing is more than a job or a service.” His throat was thick with emotion, and he swallowed past it to say what he wanted to convey. “You’re treating us like family. And….” He had to stop.
Raylene had finished eating, stacked her plate on Meriday’s and reached for Tanner’s. “Meriday and I have seen the worst of people,” she said. “But the kindness and generosity of others got us sixteen hundred miles to be here now. While many would have killed us—and some tried, strangers hid us, gave us food and shelter. Their kindness saved our lives. We work hard, but we’re comfortable here. Safe. Now it’s our duty to share what we have with others.”
Tanner (Bachelors and Babies Book 14) Page 3
