Meriday gave him a hesitant smile and nodded.
Tanner returned her smile. The glimpse into Raylene’s history filled in a few of the blanks, but still left him wondering. “Well, I’m grateful. I wanted you to know that.”
Raylene pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ll prepare a bottle, and then you can spend some time with your niece before you leave.”
Raylene heated the goat’s milk and poured it through a funnel into the clean glass bottle. She fitted the snug rubber nipple, tested the temperature and carried it to Mr. Bell. He thanked her and took the baby from Meriday.
She and Meriday cleared the table, and then Meriday washed dishes and Raylene dried and put them away. She spread the ivory lace tablecloth back on the table and situated the silver candlesticks around a bowl of dried hydrangeas in the center. Her mama’s table had always held fresh flowers, but Raylene hadn’t the means for plants that weren’t for nourishment.
Someday she’d have a flower garden and a vegetable garden as well. There was already laundry and cooking to occupy her time, along with keeping this enormous house clean, so the thought of the work involved in another garden dimmed the pleasure of that dream. Her mother had tended to her flowers, but she’d had help for all the other tasks. Raylene pushed those thoughts aside. She was young and able-bodied. She was far slimmer and stronger than she’d been only a few years ago. She might have lost her curves, but she’d gained determination and know-how.
Sometimes she thought of her husband, of the few short months they’d had together before the war. She’d been groomed to be a suitable genteel wife, and she’d done her best. Reality hadn’t been as glamorous as all the preparation had indicated it would be. As a married woman, she’d spent days alone in a two-story home, with only a modest staff. Of an evening, she and her husband had shared cordial but awkward dinners and conversation, and they’d slept in separate bedrooms, coming together only briefly and dutifully.
During that time, Raylene had learned to enjoy afternoon teas, evening parties, the ballroom gaiety of dancing waltzes and polkas with her husband—an accomplished dancer, and gatherings with his military friends. She set up house and shopped. Her social life made up for her disenchanting marriage, and she had visited her parents’ home for extended periods, eventually moving there when the war started. How could she ever have imagined going home would be a relief?
The nightmare had only been beginning.
She cast aside those thoughts. That was behind her now.
The baby was awake when Mr. Bell carried her down and let Raylene know he’d be gone for an hour or two while he did his evening chores. She carried the lightweight bundle to the sunroom on the opposite side from the sitting room of the main floor. The room jutted out from the rest of the house, as did the room on the floor above, so there were three walls of tall windows.
She seated herself in a plush armchair, the infant’s warmth a subtle weight against her breast. Fascinated by her charge’s tiny features, Raylene admired her delicate skin, pink rosebud lips, her barely-there brows and lashes. Her indefinable eyes were open, and she gazed back. “I can’t tell what color your eyes are,” Raylene said. “Bluish, but dark. You’re going to be a beauty, I can tell.”
She propped up her feet on a footstool so she could lie the infant on her lap. She talked to her about nonsensical things, and the baby waved her arms. “I don’t know any lullabies, but I can learn some for you. Would you like that?”
Raylene thought of the songs she knew from her box of sheet music and sang, “’The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home. 'Tis summer, the people are gay, the corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom, while the birds make music all the day.’”
By the time she finished the song, the baby had closed her eyes and fallen asleep. Raylene drew her forefinger across her petal-soft cheek and tested the downy softness of her forehead and eyebrows. She was perfect. The most perfect thing Raylene had ever seen.
Thinking of Vivian holding her after her birth, seeing her child’s beauty while sick and weak brought tears to Raylene’s eyes. If she’d known how near death she was, Vivian must have been terrified about what would happen to her baby. She’d had no choice but to trust her traveling companion to bring the newborn safely to Mr. Bell. Thank God the young woman had been willing and able to do so.
Raylene picked her up and rested the baby on her shoulder, her feathery hair under her chin, and snuggled the child close. She’d dreamed of this for herself. She’d imagined it in the years before her marriage and during the months after. Imagined a baby of her own to love and care for. Imagined the fulfilment of motherhood—of feeling as though she’d done something important and life-changing.
She might have an opportunity to marry again, but women far outnumbered men now, so the remaining males had their choice of wives. Many of the females were younger, and most were prettier than Raylene. She had never held a misconception that she was a beauty, and her mother had told her many times she’d need to hone her other attributes to win a respectable husband. She’d studied and was able to converse on many subjects. She’d learned to play the piano, and she’d had a voice instructor. She could embroider and do needlepoint. All those attributes had paled to having a rich father. Winston Farms had made her more attractive than anything else to the man who had asked for her hand.
Now her refined skills were even less desirable. A man needed a woman who could cook, help around a ranch and raise children. But even in this atmosphere, beauty remained an asset.
“You’re going to be pretty,” she told the baby she held. “But even better than that, you’re going to know your worth and learn to make your own way in this harsh country. You’ll make your own choices.”
Meriday came to the doorway. “Shall I light the lamp for you, Raylene?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Her friend lit two lamps. From a nearby table, she picked up the book Raylene had been reading and set it beside her. “The ladies have retired to their rooms, and Mr. Quint is in the kitchen having a cup of tea.”
“I expect Mr. Bell will return soon. I’ll read until he gets here.”
“I’ll warm milk for her next feeding.” Meriday turned and disappeared into the hallway toward the back of the house.
Raylene picked up The Hunchback of Notre-Dame and opened it to where she’d stopped reading. She’d read the story previously, but this time she’d constantly been distracted by the author’s elaborate descriptions of the cathedral and its spires and stained-glass windows. She’d once been able to fluently discuss the book’s theme of preserving French architecture, but this time the characters’ emotional plights and tragedies consumed her, and she had skimmed the descriptions.
There was a light tap on the doorframe, and she glanced up to see Mr. Bell. “Come in, of course.”
He glanced at the book she set aside and raised a brow. “A little light reading?”
“Have you read it?”
“The soldiers in my company traded books, and the selection was meager, so yes, I have. I’ll read Lillian Alice in Wonderland or The Coral Island, but I’ll not read her that particular tome.”
“Lillian?” she asked in surprise.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s a lovely name.”
“It sounds like Vivian, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it’s similar. And quite feminine. I do like it.” She sat forward and moved the baby from her shoulder so he could look at her. “Meriday warmed her milk, and she will need changed. Would you like me to see to that?”
“No, I’ll do it. You’ll have charge of her soon enough in the morning.”
She stood and handed over Lillian. The infant roused and blinked her eyes open. “We’re going to get along fine, so rest assured she will be well cared for.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cranford.”
She was tempted to ask him to call her by her given name, but considered it and decided he might think the invitati
on was too forward or unseemly. “Sleep well.”
“And you, ma’am.”
Lillian looked even tinier in the crook of his arm as he carried her out of the room. She picked up her book and stared at the pages, but couldn’t concentrate on the words. It had been a full day, and she was tired. The baby was obviously having an effect on her emotions and making her think of things she’d hoped for and things she’d lost. She couldn’t afford to get emotional or sentimental or to fall into self-pity. She had this house and with it, she and Meriday had the means to support themselves.
There might be more someday, but if there wasn’t, she would content herself knowing no one could take this place from her. She had all she needed.
On Sunday morning, Tanner was able to attend church with Mrs. Cranford and the other boarders. Raylene had previously mentioned that Meriday attended the other church in town.
“It troubled me at first,” Raylene had told him. “But then I understood that we all get comfort from familiar songs and worship, and the emancipated men and women are free to enjoy their culture’s church however they like.” She had glanced at him with uncertainty. “There are still many who don’t approve of the Negroes in their company, and many who hold a grudge against Southerners, as contradictory as that sounds.”
He’d understood her view perfectly. He’d seen enough hypocrisy and bigotry himself. He’d spent six months in a Confederate prison and he knew the evils people were capable of.
Tanner had noticed Raylene at church before, but had never spoken to her until he’d approached her boarding house door. He was often occupied renting rigs, so he arrived late for the service and left early, but today John Jay had taken over those tasks, leaving him to arrive on time.
Raylene wore a blue dress with a voluminous skirt. Her hair hung in a cluster of fat ringlets at the back of her neck. She wore a silver filigree necklace with aquamarine stones at her throat, and her hat was elaborately decorated with lace and paper flowers. She held a tiny beaded purse in her gloved hands as they climbed the stairs. Dressed more simply, Emerald and Almira Hobbs took seats beside friends.
“Good mornin’, Mista Jenkins,” Raylene greeted the store owner. “Missus Jenkins. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”
Tanner observed the manner in which she exaggerated her accent and drawled out the greeting. Over Mrs. Jenkins’ shoulder, a pair of young ladies looked at each other and rolled their eyes. They deliberately turned, avoiding greeting Raylene and spotted him.
“Tanner, I heard about your sister. My sincere condolences to you. And this is your niece?” The poor little thing. She’s the sweetest-looking baby I could imagine. What’s her name?” Octavia Gaines was the younger sister of one of his male school friends who had survived the war, married, and now lived in Illinois. Octavia, a redhead, had blossomed into a curvy young woman, and when she smiled, her dimples were pronounced.
“Her name is Lillian.”
“Oh, I love that name,” Mary Standifer cooed, looking at the baby and then lifting her gaze to his with a sweep of dark lashes. She had a charming splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks that she probably hated. “Did Vivian name her?”
“No. I did.”
“Vivian would approve of her name,” Octavia assured him with a nod. “I was so sorry to hear she’d passed. And her husband is gone too. However are you going to look after a baby all by yourself?”
“I took a room at Mrs. Cranford’s,” he explained and turned to include Raylene in the conversation. “She and her friend were kind enough to agree to care for Lillian during the day.”
Raylene nodded. “She’s a dear. Truly no trouble.”
Octavia ignored her comment and smiled at Tanner. “I’m sure you’ll manage to get by until you can make other arrangements.”
Raylene held an admirably passive expression.
The organist played the first notes of a hymn, and the two young women joined their families. Raylene took a seat at the end of a row, as though she didn’t expect or want him to join her, so he found a place near the back, in case Lillian woke and was hungry or wet.
Reverend McGregor opened the service with a few familiar hymns, and then he introduced his replacement, Reverend Bailey. The man went to the pulpit and thanked the congregation for his appointment and then introduced his wife and young son, Jennie and Winston. Winston was a lad of about six or seven.
The congregation was made up of seventy-five percent females, and without exception, all the woman of marrying age had been disappointed their new minister was married. As one of the few males who wasn’t elderly, Tanner had been the recipient of flirting, some coy, some brazen, and he’d received more invitations to dinner than he cared to accept.
He wanted a wife and a family, but his first objective was following through with his plan for a ranch. The livery earned him enough to live simply and add to his savings. He’d barely touched his officer’s pay, hadn’t needed to. As soon as the perfect piece of land was available, he would put his strategy into motion. Vivian and her baby had become a more recent part of the plan, and now he had Lillian to consider on his own.
With a ranch, he was going to need someone capable to take care of her.
He was going to need a wife.
Chapter Four
After the service, Tanner had spoken with the senior preacher about a dedication service for Lillian, and they made arrangements for the following Sunday. The aroma of a cooking ham greeted them upon arrival at the house. Meriday arrived home shortly after they did, and she and Raylene changed clothing and set themselves to the task of a Sunday dinner.
Tanner carried Lillian’s basket to the window seat in the kitchen. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to change clothing and help John Jay with the rest of the rigs and horses being returned.”
“You go right ahead,” Raylene said with a flick of her hand. “Invite John Jay for dinner if you think he’d like to join us.”
The familiar scents of hay and horses were as welcome as the smell of that baking ham had been. He never tired of working with his animals, training or caring for them. Most of the time, he was more comfortable here than around people. He spotted John Jay unhitching a buggy and helped him return the conveyance to its spot.
“I cleaned out the stalls and laid fresh hay during church,” he told Tanner. “Franz might need his left front hoof checked.”
“I’ll go have a look. Oh, Mrs. Cranford invited you to come back to the boarding house for Sunday dinner.”
John Jay grinned, but then glanced down at his clothing.
“Wash up and take a clean shirt from my room.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Tanner approached the gray in its stall and ran a hand over his neck. Franz was a true gray, with a mixture of black and white hairs on black skin. He was a handsome animal, with a dark interrupted stripe on his face and bluish-black hooves. “Somethin’ bothering you, fella? Let’s have a look at you.”
He ran his hand all the way down the animal’s foreleg to his foot and the horse obediently lifted the foot in question. “Let’s go clean this up.”
He walked the horse out of the stall to the area where his files and clippers were neatly hung. He talked to Franz while cleaning and smoothing his hoof. “This is going to feel better. You can stay in here overnight and go out in the morning.”
He put up the horse, then washed himself and found the last clean shirt in his now-unused quarters. When he walked back to the front of the building, John Jay was waiting, wearing one of Tanner’s pressed white shirts and a string tie.
“I borrowed a tie, too.”
Tanner nodded his approval. “Let’s go eat ham.”
“Ham? The good Lord is smilin’ down on me today!”
When they entered the boarding house, Raylene called, “Is that you, Mr. Bell? We’re ready to sit down. Good afternoon, John Jay. I’m so pleased you could join us.”
“Thank you for invitin’ me, ma’am.” John Jay glanced ar
ound and appeared decidedly uncomfortable. All of the ladies were dressed in their Sunday clothes and even the aloof Abraham wore a jacket and tie.
Raylene gestured to the two vacant chairs. “Take your seats, please.”
No wonder John Jay was taken aback. Tanner had seen nothing like this table setting since his early days as an officer when he’d occasionally been invited to the colonels’ homes. Mrs. Cranford’s Sunday table was set with a pristine white linen cloth, matching napkins and china plates with gold-edged rims. The gleaming silver flatware all matched. His first thought was to wonder how all this finery, which had likely belonged to her uncle’s wife, had been spared in this economy.
“Mr. Bell, would you do us the honor of asking the blessing for our meal, please?” she asked.
Tanner hadn’t been asked to pray for several years, but he nodded and bowed his head. “Most gracious, heavenly Father, we humble ourselves in Your presence to thank You for Your provision. Thank You for this meal and for the generosity of our hostesses. Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies now. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Amen.” Raylene lifted her gaze to give him an appreciative nod. She took a spoon of mashed potatoes for herself and passed the bowl. “Meriday pickled those beets last fall.”
“I’m fond of pickled beets,” John Jay said.
Meriday looked embarrassed by the attention.
Tanner glanced at John Jay, who eagerly forked several quartered beets onto his plate.
“Did Lillian have a feeding?” Tanner asked.
Meriday nodded. “She had her milk about half an hour ago. She’ll sleep through dinner.”
Raylene rested her fork on her plate. “Does your family have Sunday dinner, John Jay?”
“A cold lunch after church and chores, ma’am, and then a hot meal for supper.”
“Do you have brothers or sisters?”
Tanner (Bachelors and Babies Book 14) Page 4
