Winter's Worth

by Danni Roan

  There was something about her, some quiet light that seemed to glow from within, buried far below her obvious suspicion and care.

  Easing his mount to a trot he covered the ground toward the Sparak farm and grinned as he spotted smoke puffing from the little house.

  “Looks like they’ve already made a start of things,” he said to his horse absently giving it a pat as he trotted into the yard.

  “Mama, that big fella’s here,” Matrice called out as she came around the side of the house a box of supplies in her arms. “Where’s your friend mister?” the girl asked her voice hopeful.

  Rock swung down from his mount and took the heavy box from the girl. For a slip of a thing she seemed hearty.

  “You mean Francis?” Rock asked surprised by the question.

  “I think that’s his name,” Matrice offered opening the door and letting the big man in. “He’s a real live Indian isn’t he?”

  “He sure is, and a hard worker too. Doc’s pleased as punch to have a young man like him to help out around the place. He seems to like delivering things to folks.”

  “Mr. Rock,” Agnes turned from where she’d been drying her hands taking the box from him. “What brings you over this way?”

  “I come out to check on you and the kids today only to find you’d moved on. I thought I’d better come on over and see if you need anything.”

  “We’re doin’ fine,” the buxom woman said. The light from the window falling onto her face gave her a warm glow as if her dark skin had been graced by fire light. Her kerchief fastened around her head was becoming in an unusual way and Rock smiled.

  “If you’re still moving things from the wagon I’d be happy to help,” he offered.

  “We do still have the rice and beans to move,” Matrice spoke up quickly. “I’d surely appreciate the help with that.”

  Agnes cut her daughter a look. Together they could very well unpack the wagon, there was no need to trouble the man.

  “Lead the way,” Rock said turning and following Matrice back out the door.

  “He’s nice,” Beatrix said turning to smile at her mother from where she was dusting the table and chairs. “Is he our friend?”

  “You mind what you say now,” Agnes chided. “We’re just passin’ through and we don’t need to get too friendly with the folks of this town.

  She thought of the older woman she’d met just a short time ago and wondered if there were more like her in town. People that noticed the color of one’s skin first.

  “Do you think he’d let me ride his horse?” Atrum asked as he stirred up the fire in the cook stove.

  “No, and don’t you go asking,” Agnes said. “Just mind your manners and when your pa gets here we’ll move on.”

  “Yes ma’am,” both children replied turning back to their respective jobs.

  Rock reached into the wagon grasping the corners of two large burlap bags. The markings on them listed the weight at one hundred pounds but he didn’t think anything of it as he pulled out one swinging it to his shoulder then did the same again with the other.

  “Good thing Mama always sews the sacks shut again,” Matrice said with a giggle. “Otherwise we’d be scooping up beans and rice all night.”

  “What?” Rock turned trying to see the ends of the sacks. He hadn’t thought about the fact that they could have been opened already. “Oh, sorry.”

  “It’s alright, I’m just glad me and Mama don’t have to carry them. Follow me to the kitchen and we’ll get them put away. Do you think your friend Francis likes beans and rice?” she asked almost as an afterthought.

  “I reckon he might,” Rock replied. “Miss Polly says he never fussed over nothin’ she fed him.”

  Matrice smiled, her dark eyes shining and Rock was sure he was missing something. It made sense a girl her age would be interested in making friends with other people her age he guessed.

  He didn’t really know much about young people, and he wouldn’t even hold Andrew, Quil’s son, for fear of breaking him.

  Rock dropped the sacks in the kitchen against a wall and looked around him.

  He’d never been in the house that Bruno’s father had built, it was a little short for his taste, but it was warm and cozy and better than sleeping in the back of a drafty wagon in a snow storm.

  “Well it looks like you’re squared away,” Rock mused turning his hat in his hand. “I’ll be getting on my way, but if you need anything you let Bruno know I said I’d pitch in.” He smiled at Agnes and the children then gave a nod and turned to go.

  “Thank you,” Agnes said walking him to the door. “I mean for your kindness.” She looked up at him with dark serious eyes. “I know the good Lord sent you to us to see that we’d be alright,” she said. “He knows it’s not always so easy for folks like us.”

  Rock nodded. Traveling through a strange land with only your children must have been difficult for her. Add to that some peoples notions about folks that were different and it must have been trying at times.

  He was glad that Wyoming was at least a little modern in their views of folks. Why women of Wyoming even had the vote.

  “I think you’ll find Biders Clump a friendly town over all,” Rock commented as they reached the door. “Just watch out for Chip.”

  “Who’s Chip?” Agnes asked suspiciously.

  “He’s a horse and a meaner critter you’ll never meet. Ya can’t miss ‘em either, he’s a big brown and white pinto that belongs to Tywyn a former Marshal.”

  “I’ll do my best to avoid him,” Agnes agreed flashing an infrequent smile. “Thank you again.”

  “You take care now Mrs. Ratner,” Rock nodded tipping his hat and heading out the door. “Things will come together.”

  Chapter 11

  “Oh Lucinda you’re here,” Mrs. Farrow enthused as her daughter walked into the room on the arm of a scarecrow of a man in a crisp brown suit.

  “Hello mother,” Lucinda said reaching out and hugging her mother as she dropped the hand of the little girl next to her.

  “Gramma, are you getting’ married?” the little girl asked twirling a long blonde strand of hair around her finger.

  “Not tonight my darling,” Mrs. Farrow said leaning over and letting the little girl kiss her cheek. “This is a party to celebrate that fact that Mr. Williams has asked me to marry him.”

  “It’s called an engagement party,” a lanky boy of about nine said pushing his dark hair out of his eyes.

  “Don’t you look handsome Toby,” Mrs. Farrow said, pinching his cheek and making him groan. “You stay out of trouble tonight now,” the woman finished.

  “Mrs. Farrow,” Willem took his mother’s-in-law hand. “I am happy for your very good news,” the tall dark-eyed man said tipping his head politely.

  “I’m sure you are Willem, but how will you ever get on without me at the farm. I’m sure if you ever need me, you’ll let me know.” She turned to her daughter, “If you’re ever worried about anything dear, you know I’ll be here for you.”

  Lucinda smiled, her eyes twinkling at her mother’s dramatic offer. “You do realize that you’re going home with us tonight don’t you?” she quipped.

  Willem wrapped an arm around Lucinda possessively. They’d been married a short time, and he’d been away with work for too much of it.

  “Willem,” Mr. Williams strode over to them, a cup of punch in hand. “So good you could make it,” the older man said taking Willem’s hand.

  “Congratulations Mr. Williams,” Willem’s slight accent, a hint of the father land, in his voice.

  “Lucinda you must stay at my side tonight,” Mrs. Farrow said. “There will be so many people here and I wouldn’t want to miss anyone.”

  “Well, well, well,” an old shriveled woman stepped from the kitchen of the local restaurant. “So you’re getting’ hitch Mrs.”

  “Ida,” Mrs. Farrow blushed. “Please mind your manners.”

  “Manners,” the old woman laughed. “I’m too old
to bother with those.” She tucked the dish towel she’d been holding into the band of her apron and gazed around the room.

  “Old Jasper’s sure puttin’ on a ta-do tonight,” the wizened woman declared. “Let me know when you cut that fancy cake Rupert made. Seems like you might as well have gotten the ceremony over with if you was gonna have a fancy supper anyway,” she added turning with a shake of her head and disappearing once more.

  “That woman has no class,” Mrs. Farrow said lifting her chin. “No class at all.”

  Lucinda didn’t argue with her mother, but Ida was one of her favorite people here in Biders Clump. When Lucinda and her mother had arrived in the tiny town with their house keeper Martha, Ida had been a blessing who helped Lucinda understand her job as a server in this very place.

  “Mother, Ida’s just Ida,” Lucinda scolded. “She’s been good to both of us.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Mrs. Farrow sighed, “but the things she says.”

  Lucinda looked up noting the people in the crowd. Most of the town had turned out and it was a joy to see so many of them here to congratulate her mother.

  Lucinda pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear and straightened her lovely pink taffeta. She knew the dress was far too fancy for the Grist Mill but she also knew her mother would fuss if she hadn’t dressed up. Besides, Sasha loved the thing.

  “Oh, there’s Polly Esther,” Mrs. Farrow said taking her daughter’s hand and hurrying her along toward the refreshment table.

  Lucinda had just enough time to see Toby step up to his friend and partner in crime Billy Stanley.

  ***

  “Hey Billy,” Toby said as he tugged at his tight collar and noting with envy that Billy wasn’t wearing one. Though his face had been scrubbed and his blonde hair slicked down tight.

  “Hey Toby,” Billy replied. Billy was only six but he’d become fast friends with Toby nearly two years ago when they’d had a fight over Rebecca who had come to work for the Olsons.

  “Pretty fun, huh?” Bill asked gazing around at the busy, chattering guests.

  “I guess,” Toby mused. “You wanna get some punch?”

  “Sure,” Billy said falling into step.

  “I can’t wait til they cut the cake,” Toby mused keeping his eye on the three tier delicacy.

  “Mr. Rupert said that it’s got chocolate and white in it,” Billy said in awe and each big square is like a checkerboard.

  “Well if he made it, we know it’ll be good.”

  Together the boys made their way to the table and picked up two glasses of punch. It was sweet and tasted of apples.

  “Hello boys,” a tall thick set man with hair as black as pitch sidled up to the table. “I hope you’re having a good time tonight.”

  “Hi Mr. Gatlin,” the boys said greeting their teacher affectionately.

  “I’m glad it’s Saturday and we don’t have school tomorrow,” Billy piped. “Ma’d a’ made me go to bed and miss all the fun.”

  Grady Gatlin laughed at Billy, the boy was a fire cracker and one of his star pupils despite his age.

  “Where’s Mrs. Gatlin?” Toby asked looking around the room for the very woman he and Billy had fought about so long ago.

  “I think she’s visiting with Prissy and the other Adams girls,” Grady said his smile bright.

  Together the three of them turned looking about the room until their eyes fell on a plump blonde woman and Rebecca whose ginger colored hair was pulled up under a smart hat.

  “There she is,” Billy pointed. “You was right, she’s with Miss Prissy.”

  “That’s Mrs. Rutherford now,” Toby corrected.

  “I can’t hardly keep folks straight in my head anymore,” Billy grumbled. “People keep getting’ married and changing their names. There are so many misters and missuses I don’t know who’s who.”

  Grady laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair. “That’s the way things go Billy,” he said waving to his wife. “I’ll talk to you boys later. You boys stay out of trouble.”

  “Why does everyone say that?” Billy asked crossing his arms over his chest. “Hey, isn’t that your sister?” he added pointing toward the cake.

  “Oh no!” Toby gasped making a bee-line for where his little sister had just lifted a heavy knife that sat next to the cake.

  Toby skidded around the back of the table grabbing the knife from Sasha’s hand as she lifted it in both hands.

  “Don’t,” Toby gasped as the little girl turned on her heel, the tablecloth snagging on her cuff.

  Toby looked up as in slow motion the whole cake wobbled as the table cloth moved. Valiantly he pushed his little sister out of the way as the whole sweet, elegant cake came tumbling down over his head with a crash.

  “Oh my word!” someone cried out as Lucinda hearing Sasha’s scream hurried to the table.

  “Toby, what happened?” she looked at the broken mound of cake scattered over the floor and covering the boy who was the son of her heart.

  “It was me,” Sasha said just as Mrs. Farrow arrived.

  “Sasha, how could you?” The woman wailed. “My beautiful cake, my lovely prize!” she sniffed.

  Sasha looked up at her Gramma and tears spilled down her cheeks as great sobs shook her little form.

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Toby said struggling to his feet as he slipped and slid on the fancy frosting. “I told her I could pull the table cloth out without anything happening.”

  All eyes turned to Toby and he hung his head, peeking through his lashes to see Sasha now grasped in Mrs. Farrow’s arms.

  “You wicked boy,” the older woman scolded, “and to think I almost blamed my sweet Sasha.”

  Lucinda looked between the two children her shoulders sagging.

  “Well everyone might just as well go home now,” Mrs. Farrow sniffed. “The party is ruined.”

  “Not quite yet,” a smart English accented voice cut through the chatter filling the room.

  “I have already begun another cake,” Rupert Rutherford, the town baker and beloved husband of one Priscilla Adams-Rutherford moved across the room.

  “If you’ll help me clear away the mess I have just the thing,” he finished with a smile.

  Everyone looked at the thin blonde man bewildered but when Prissy insisted they do as he said everyone pitched in and soon buckets of chocolate and white checkerboard cake was being carried out the door.

  Once the mess was gone, Prissy and Rupert carried a wide square, two layered cake to the table.

  “It’s not quite as pretty,” the young baker said, “but I assure you it is just as good.”

  Cheers rose around the room as Mrs. Farrow cut the first piece of layer cake placing it on a plate and handing it to Mr. Williams.

  “To us my dear,” the man said. “And grandchildren,” he added with a twinkle.

  Lucinda took Toby’s sticky hand and headed through the kitchen and up the back stairs to a small apartment.

  “Tell me the truth Toby,” she said, her dark eyes serious as she entered the living space and grabbed a towel. “What really happened?”

  Toby looked up at the woman he was beginning to love like a mother. She’d already done so much for him. He’d even confided in her that the only reason his Uncle Willem had managed to grow onions was because it was the one crop Toby knew how to tend.

  “It was Sasha,” Toby confessed letting Lucinda wash his face. “She had that big knife and was going to cut the cake but when I went to stop her she got tangled up.”

  “Are you going to punish me?” Toby asked seriously. It hurt to see her disappointed in him.

  “No, not this time,” Lucinda said. She could hear Willem coming up the stairs. “I do want you to tell your uncle though.”

  She stood rinsing out the towel again and handing it to him. “Toby, while I appreciate you trying to protect her from any harm, she has to learn that you won’t always be there to get her out of a fix.”

  “Are you alright Tobias?”
Willem asked stepping into the small apartment that Lucinda and her mother had once shared.

  “I’m fine Uncle Willem, but I have to tell you something.” Toby looked at Lucinda then continued explaining what had happened. “You won’t punish her will you?” he asked at the end. “She’s just a little girl.”

  Willem reached out and pulled the boy to him disregarding the mess he got on his suit.

  “I will not punish her, but I do believe that she must tell Mrs. Farrow what happened. She must tell the truth.”

  Toby nodded. “Can I talk to her about it tonight when we get home?”

  “I believe that is a good plan,” Willem said looking up at Lucinda for reassurance.

  He was new to this parenting thing having only arrived in Biders Clump some two years ago when his sister’s husband had disappeared, and she needed him to help on the farm. When she’d grown sick and eventually died, he’d been left alone with two children to care for.

  “Are we going home now?” Toby finally asked as he finished wiping frosting out of his ear.

  “No, this is Mrs. Farrow’s special party,” Willem said. “We will stay until she is ready to go home.”

  ***

  “Gramma?” Sasha walked into Mrs. Farrow’s room that night as the older woman plaited her long gray hair.

  “Hello darling,” Mrs. Farrow said smiling at the little girl, but glaring at Toby who held Sasha’s hand tight.

  Mrs. Farrow, reached out smoothing the little girl’s hair. “Did you come to kiss me goodnight?”

  Sasha looked at Toby who nodded. “I come to confess,” the child’s little voice was soft.

  “Confess?” Mrs. Farrow asked turning hard eyes on Toby.

  Sasha dropped her brother’s hand and climbed onto the bed to look at the woman she considered her grandmother. “It was me that spilled your cake,” she said, her eyes pooling with tears.

  “Toby was trying to save me, and it all fell down.”

  “Is this true?” Ruth Farrow looked at the boy.

  “Yes ma’am,” Toby said.

  “Then why did you say it was you? Are you trying to get out of punishment by having your sister take the blame?”