When he’d finished his meal, the older man excused himself and left the kitchen.
“You could have knocked me over with a feather,” Almira said in a secretive tone.
“Who do you suppose he’s bringing?” Emerald asked.
Raylene had stood and picked up plates. “We’ll see tonight.”
She planned for an extra at supper, but she didn’t think much about the mystery guest. Her thoughts had been preoccupied by her conversation with Tanner the morning he’d repaired the porch. Every time she walked out her front door now, she looked at those new boards and remembered.
While Lillian napped that afternoon, she took inventory of the dresses in her armoire, plus those in a trunk against the wall. Most had flounces around the entire skirt, many were trimmed with ruche and ribbon, others were decorated with sashes or rosettes. No one here wore silk to church. None of the women had matching parasols.
Many of these were visiting dresses, and the ladies in Twin Springs didn’t call on one another—or if they did, they didn’t call on her.
These dresses represented a way of life that was behind her. She’d foolishly hoped to somehow hang onto a past in which she’d been blissfully ignorant of social and economic conditions, but her eyes had been opened. She’d thought she was trying harder than everyone else, but she’d only been alienating people.
The dresses had cost a great deal, and she would certainly keep a few favorites in case special occasions ever arose, but perhaps Stella Emerson could use the fabric and trimmings.
The previous week she’d brought down a perfectly serviceable baby carriage, and she and Meriday had cleaned it up and washed the lining. After Lillian woke and had been fed, Raylene wrapped one dress and walked to the seamstresses’ establishment.
“Mrs. Cranford, it would be a transgression to take apart an exquisite dress like this,” the young woman said, admiring the needlework and lining. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” She thought a minute. I have several dress mannequins. What if I displayed a couple at a time and sell them?”
The area she worked in was small, but there was a large window at the front. She and her father lived in the back of the building.
“Do you think anyone would buy one?”
“Truthfully this one looks a little large for you….”
“I used to have more curves,” Raylene said with a regretful shrug.
“Stella examined the seams. There’s plenty of fabric if someone needs more room—or I can take it in for a smaller person.” She looked at Raylene. “I know the women in town would love to own a dress like this. How many do you have?”
“A couple dozen.”
The seamstress raised her eyebrows. “I’d want one, and I’ll have first pick.”
“I’ll split the earning with you,” Raylene told her.
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s more than fair. You’re using your shop and will be attracting your customers. You’d be doing alterations as well.”
“Thank you for thinking of me.”
“I’ll pack them and have them brought over tomorrow.”
Stella clapped her palms together. “I can’t wait.”
That evening, Almira and Emerald dressed for dinner and arrived in the sitting room early. Tanner sat with Lillian on his lap and tried his hand at the piano. The pocket doors were open, so she and Meriday heard his experimental attempts and smiled. He eventually managed a competent version of Stephen Foster’s Gentle Annie. Raylene made a mental note to ask Reverend Bailey to sing it for them next time they were together.
Near the end of the song, the music stopped and everyone grew quiet in the other room. Raylene set a bowl of steaming glazed parsnips on the table and approached the doorway.
Abraham stood with a woman wearing a dark blue dress, trimmed in black velvet. He spotted Raylene and turned, revealing his companion.
“Mrs. Cranford, this is Miss Anne Gilbert. Anne, this is my landlady, Mrs. Cranford.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gilbert.”
“Thank you for the welcome.” The woman was probably ten or fifteen years younger than Abraham, her once-black hair now threaded with silver, and she wore it in an intricate upsweep. “I’m looking forward to the meal. Mr. Quint tells me you and your friend are excellent cooks.”
“Here she is,” Raylene said, drawing Meriday into the introduction. “She’s the excellent cook. I’m her apprentice.”
“Welcome, Miss Gilbert,” Meriday said. “It’s nothing fancy tonight. Trout filets and fried potatoes with vegetables.”
“My mouth is watering at the mention,” the woman said with a smile. She was slim with elegant features. She had barely discernable crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes and faint smile lines.
“Everyone, please take your seats,” Raylene said.
Almira and Emerald were uncharacteristically silent throughout the meal. Almira studied their guest whenever the woman wasn’t looking, and she and Emerald exchanged occasional glances. Raylene had been concerned the two of them would bombard Abraham’s guest with questions, and the fact that they didn’t was a relief, but their complete lack of interest seemed impolite.
“Mr. Bell has purchased a ranch,” Abraham said to his guest.
Tanner was just taking his seat after checking on Lillian in her basket. He looked up with a nod.
“Have you decided when you will be moving to the ranch?” Almira asked.
“No. I have to make sure the house is ready and make plans.”
“Plans being a suitable wife and mother?” Emerald asked.
“That is under consideration,” he said.
“Do you have someone particular in mind?” Almira asked.
The crisp fish and tender vegetables on Raylene’s plate seemed less appealing than they had seconds ago. As much as she didn’t want him to have a reply, she wanted to hear it if he did.
“Don’t put the man on the spot,” Emerald said.
Almira set down her fork and dabbed her lips with her napkin. “I don’t know if you’ve considered this, but you’ll want someone with experience with children. Are you acquainted with Charles Hurley?”
“Circle H Ranch,” he replied with a nod. “I shoe his teams.”
“Charles and his wife have nine children. The oldest daughter is married, but their second daughter lost a fiancé to the brother’s war. Sylvia still lives at the ranch, and she’s cared for a lot of children. Older than all the boys, too, so she can handle chores. You might want to call on her.”
Tanner gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Hobbs. That’s a fine idea.”
“Miss Gilbert, where did you and Mr. Quint meet?” Raylene asked to change the subject.
“We met in Kansas when Abraham was working for the railroad,” she answered. “I came to Colorado quite a long time ago. We kept in touch through occasional letters over the years, and then a couple of years ago, Abraham wrote that he planned to settle here.”
So, during all of those puzzling disappearances after supper and on Sunday afternoons he had been meeting this woman? He’d never said a word, but then he wasn’t a talker. Raylene wasn’t party to the local gossip, so if there had been talk, she hadn’t heard it. However, Almira would have been first in line for gossip, but she’d said nothing, so Raylene had to think their affiliation had been a secret until now.
Miss Gilbert looked over at Abraham with a warm look of appreciation, perhaps love in her eyes. He acknowledged her with a nod and a jerk at the corner of his lips.
Raylene covered her smile with her napkin. They were witnessing the courageous reveal of a relationship.
“There’s peach pie for dessert,” she said.
Tanner’s mind wouldn’t shut off. He could probably stay at the boarding house until he purchased more stock, but he’d have to daily feed and water the animals Rumford had left. His wisest choice was to settle on someone and propose marriage. The idea soured his stomach whenever he thought about it.
Or he could hire a housekeeper. Plain and simple. A woman to cook and look after Lillian. That idea had the most appeal, but he did visit the Circle H under the pretense of inquiring about buying chickens. He hoped to get a glimpse of Hurley’s second daughter and wasn’t disappointed. She was washing out tin water troughs when Charles introduced her.
“This here is Sylvie.”
Sylvia Hurley had a sweet smile. She wore her black hair in a braid down her back. Her sleeves were rolled back to reveal arms and hands tanned from the sun. She wore a plain muslin skirt and a worn blue apron. She raised a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “Hello.”
“Mr. Bell here shoes our horses,” her pa told her. “He’s lookin’ to buy some chickens. Will you show him the newest batches?”
“Yes, of course.” She dried her hands on her apron and led him to one of three large penned-in coops. “We keep ‘em separate so we don’t get crossovers.”
He stopped at the first pen beside her.
“These here dark ones are Anconas. Said to be originally from Italy. They’re hardy and good winter layers. They’re a good choice if you have a problem with predators. Those Brown Leghorns have more spotty feathers, and so you can tell them apart. They all have single red combs, and they’re kind of plain. They grow large though, are reliable layers and have a good disposition.”
In the next pen, she pointed out hens with brown that faded to orange. The rooster had a bright red crest and long, full black tail feathers. “These New Hampshires are pretty. They grow real fast and lay while still young. They make tasty broilers. Are you lookin’ for something like that?”
“So, would it be a problem to pen two or three varieties together?” he asked.
“No, not for you. You want ‘em for eggs and food. We breed them to sell, so we keep ‘em pure as possible.”
“You certainly know your chickens,” he said.
She grinned. “I been doin’ this since I was knee-high. I could tell you a thing or two about calving as well.”
“Know anything about horses?” he asked.
“Been helpin’ round up cows my whole life. I can saddle up and ride.”
“I’m not quite ready for the hens,” he told her. “I’ll be buying stock and building pens for a while. If I come back in a month or so, would that be a good time to buy a couple dozen?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll help you choose and supply a reliable rooster.”
He found Charles, thanked him, and rode away. Sylvia Hurley would make a good partner on a ranch. She was good with animals. She’d helped raise younger siblings and nieces and nephews. Everything about her was practical. Too young to ask to work as a housekeeper, however. She surely had dreams of her own family, so that would be unfair. She might accept, simply because men were scarce and she was of age to leave her parents and be on her own.
That would be wrong. If he chose her, it would have to be as a wife.
He sat at the supper table that night, barely noticing what he ate. The hour for his decision was growing late. He wasn’t good company, because he was fighting anger over his situation. He’d wanted this ranch his whole adult life. The dream had kept him going while he slept in a rain-soaked bedroll on the hard-packed ground in Tennessee. He’d lived for this day when dying in Salisbury prison would have been easier.
A wife and a child had always been a someday plan, something that completed his dream after the ranch, but he didn’t have a choice. He was responsible for Lillian now. He’d quickly grown to love her and wanted to provide his niece the best life possible. He never wanted her welfare or care to be a problem. Having her in his life was a privilege and a joy.
He prayed about it again that night, asking for direction, having faith that there was an answer. He hoped the answer would come quickly.
On Sunday, Raylene wore a pretty starched cotton day dress with puff sleeves and a lace underskirt. The powder blue made the sometimes-startling color of her eyes stand out even more. Tanner thought he’d been surprised.
But then Octavia Gaines entered the church dressed in a bright-striped green satin dress with layers of scalloped flounces in the front and a big matching bow at her back. He’d never seen the dress before, but it looked like something that would have been in Raylene’s wardrobe. Heads turned. Ladies whispered behind their fans.
Stella Emerson entered a few minutes later, wearing a less flamboyant, but every bit as elegant dress in a deep shade of pink. It had some kind of lacey shoulder embellishments and gold rosettes at the waist. In her hair she wore a matching headpiece. This time churchgoers murmured. The woman was a seamstress, but no one had seen her wear anything like this ensemble.
The showstopper wasn’t either one of these young women, however. The hum of conversation came to an abrupt halt when a gentleman escorted a woman in a plain blue dress across the threshold. Abraham held Miss Gilbert’s hand tucked under his elbow and guided her to an empty space, where they took their seats. Parishioners on either side cast them sidelong glances.
The organist began a hymn and people stood, picked up their hymnals, found their places and sang along with Reverend Bailey’s rich baritone. “’The church's one foundation is Jesus Christ, her Lord; she is His new creation by water and the Word.’”
Tanner found himself smiling as he joined in the singing. If this morning got any better, he would shout hallelujah and do a Holy Ghost dance in the aisle.
He’d lived in this town most of his life. He knew full well who Anne Gilbert was. It had never been a secret that she’d come west destitute and earned her living by giving jobs to other impoverished young women and providing female company in a house on the outskirts of Twin Springs.
By the time the war came and all the men left, she’d earned her nest egg. She closed the business, had the house demolished and set herself up in a tiny house with a well, where she grew a garden and stayed to herself. He couldn’t be more pleased that she’d found someone with whom to share her life.
And here they were, displaying their relationship for all to see. This was what church was about after all—second chances. Starting over.
Apparently Raylene had invited her to Sunday dinner, because she was there beside Abraham as they convened to eat, along with John Jay, who now sat beside Meriday. Tanner said the blessing, and they dug into green salads, stuffed chicken breasts, asparagus and hot buttered rolls.
“You ladies sure put out a fine spread on Sundays,” John Jay said.
Meriday gave him a broad smile.
“My, but didn’t the young ladies look fancy in church today?” Emerald exclaimed.
Almira put a hand to her breast. “Those gowns were exquisite.”
Raylene calmly buttered a roll and tool a bite.
“Those dresses were as fancy as some of yours,” Tanner commented.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Lovely.”
“Seems as though everyone wants to be fashionable now,” he said.
She didn’t comment.
“Mr. Bell, I heard you’d visited the Hurley ranch this week.” Almira looked at him with upraised brows.
He swallowed a bite of chicken and set down his fork. “I did. Yes, I did. I went to see about purchasing chickens.”
“That’s where we got chickens when we got here,” Meriday told him. “They were all healthy and good layers. Miss Hurley knows her hens.”
“She surely does,” he replied.
“So, you met Sylvia?” Almira prodded. “What did you think of her?”
He took a drink of his sweet iced tea to delay answering. All attention had focused on him. His collar felt too tight. “She’s knowledgeable about animals. Not only chickens. She’s familiar with cows and horses and can ride.”
“And good with babies,” Emerald added. “I remember their family well, the older children especially. Is Miss Hurley under consideration?”
“Yes.” He’d said it matter-of-factly and didn’t care to embellish.
“Well,” Almira said
. She and Emerald exchanged a pleased look, as though they’d introduced Marc Antony and Cleopatra.
The topic of conversation changed, thankfully, but Raylene finished eating in silence. When everyone was done, Meriday collected plates and Raylene brought out a tall, white-frosted cake that met with exclamations.
She sliced it, revealing three layers, frosting and raspberries between each.
After they’d enjoyed every morsel of their dessert, Raylene said to Meriday, “The two of you go enjoy your afternoon now. I’ll clean up.”
“Oh no,” Meriday objected, but was cut off.
“I insist. You deserve a break, so go for a ride or a walk or whatever you’d like.”
Meriday gave her a quick hug, and she and John Jay departed.
Abraham and Miss Gilbert retired to the sitting room with the ladies.
“I’ll help you while Lillian is still sleeping,” Tanner told her, carrying the dessert plates to the kitchen.”
“I can do it,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
“Neither do I. I want to, in fact.”
She wrapped the minimal leftover food while he took scraps to the goat. She filled a pan with suds and hot water and carefully washed the china plates.
He dried and stacked the plates. “Were those your dresses?”
“If they were?”
“I never suggested you should get rid of your dresses. They’re beautiful.”
“I’m keeping a few. I don’t need all of them, and you were right. They separated me from the others.”
“That won’t be a problem if they all keep showing up in them.” He chuckled. “How did Octavia and Stella acquire those gowns?”
“Stella is selling them and doing alterations. Some might figure out where they came from, but Stella’s a seamstress after all. It’s quite natural for her to sell clothing.”
He carried the stack of dishes out to the dining room, put them away and returned.
“Are you really considering marrying Sylvia Hurley?”
“I’m considering every option I can think of. I need to do what’s best for Lillian. She’s my first concern.”
“Of course.” She dried her hands on her apron. “Excuse me a minute.”
Tanner (Bachelors and Babies Book 14) Page 14
