OK, this was not a good way to exit the former conversation. In fact, it was liable to drag it out even longer. She sighed. “I’m not really sure I want to do a basket this year, Reba.”
“Well of course you do,” Reba scoffed, reaching across the small table and pouring more hot tea into Hallie’s cup. “You know how important it is that we raise the funds. And besides,” she smiled, a twinkle in her eye, “you never know just who might buy your basket.”
Hallie laughed. “That’s the main reason I don’t want to participate.” The thought of some who might buy her basket sent shivers of dread down her spine. There were just some men she didn’t care to spend an evening with, chatting and pretending to be happy.
Reba reached over and picked up Hallie’s dress again. She pulled a threaded needle from her pin cushion and began to sew the hem. “Nonsense. A pretty woman like you ought to have a lot of young fellas chasing after her.”
Hallie took a sip of the hot brew. No doubt Reba was forgetting her age. Young fellows wanted a young wife. And she had passed that long ago. Most her age had a husband and five children, or more.
“I think I’m out of the running for the young men,” she teased. “And I don’t see any of the old bachelors around here looking for a wife.”
“Now you just stop that! You’re a beautiful young woman and there’s a man out there somewhere for you. But you’ll never find him holed up at home on the ranch. You’ve got to get out and meet him.”
Or order him. But maybe it was best not to mention that to Reba. She had no idea what the woman might think of her sending off for a husband. “I know, Reba. It’s just. . .there don’t seem to be many eligible men around here.”
Reba smiled and began threading her needle again. “My Maggie thought the same. And just look who God sent for her!”
There was that. But at least Maggie had been widowed before she met Caleb. She’d already had a taste of happiness. Hallie bit her tongue. It was that sort of thinking that got her feeling sorry for herself. No sense getting depressed about the situation. Reba was right. What was there to lose in a basket full of food? “You’re right. I’ll start planning my basket tonight.”
“Good for you. Just make sure there’s plenty of chicken and some sort of pie. That always gets some bids. And you’ll be helping the school house get a new bell at the same time.”
“I know they need it. Having a big bell like that just seems to make it official that it’s the school,” she smiled.
“It was all right when they shared the same building as the church, but now that they’re separate, I think it’s a good thing,” Reba agreed. “They had such a good turn out last year for the basket auctions that they were able to pay for all those new desks in the schoolhouse.”
“So you’re saying it’s my duty to participate,” Hallie laughed and put her cup on the saucer.
“I guess that’s one way to think about it,” Reba agreed. “But don’t count out meeting a fellow. There’s starting to be some new blood moving in around here. The town’s starting to grow.”
Hallie was silent for a moment, watching the older woman work. Her stitches were so fine and small, nothing like Hallie could make herself. Not that she had much time for practicing with all the ranch work to be done. Maybe this winter she could get out her needles and thread and do more than patch a shirt or darn a sock.
“I hear you’ve got Ethan Kane out there working for you,” Reba said.
It was an innocent enough statement, but Hallie could hear in her words that a little bit of gossip was starting to go around. Ethan would not be happy about that. At the same time, she wasn’t at liberty to tell the true purpose of his work. “Yes. He’s my closest neighbor and I’ve hired him to do some of the heavy work around the place.”
If Rob hadn’t fired everyone and practically closed down the ranch the last year he lived out there, it would be in so much better shape. Even better if he hadn’t sold all of his cattle and pocketed the money. As it was, she had a long struggle to go to make it a successful business. In some ways, it made her glad Pa had not lived to see what a mess it all was.
“He seems a good man, to me,” Reba said, her eyes meeting Hallie’s.
Was there a hint of curiosity in her words? “Yes, he seems to be. And he’s very experienced with ranching. He’s given me a lot of tips on things I can do for the place. Also, he’s agreed to sell some calves to me next spring.” That ought to explain the situation to her. Maybe it wasn’t all of it, but everything she had said was true.
“That will be a great help to you. I know it’s been hard on you with Rob just leaving the ranch so suddenly, but you’re a strong woman, Miss Hallie. You’ll do fine once you get used to it.”
“I hope so. Pa wasn’t much of one to let me do much outside work around the ranch. Thought it was for him and the boys. Of course, he never planned on the war and losing my older brothers. After that, I don’t think his heart was in it anymore. Ma always felt that he just gave up.”
“Quite understandable. The war changed all of our lives. I know you were just a child, at the time, but I’m sure it affected you, too. I know the kind of hurt that your mother went through.”
Hallie nodded and took a sip of her tea, now cold. There was no explaining what the war had done to her family. Like everyone else, their lives were forever changed. If nothing else, Reba understood that about her life.
“But back to that picnic,” Reba smiled, taking another stitch in the fabric. “I met my Carlton at a picnic. He didn’t buy my box, though. Bought my best friend, Celia’s meal. Barton Miller bought mine. So, we ate as couples, sitting down on the same blanket together. Carlton kept making eyes at me the whole time we ate,” she laughed. “I don’t think Celia and Barton cared for it much. But when two people notice each other like that, there’s not much you can do about it.”
Hallie nodded. Sometimes it was only one person that noticed the other. There was no use dwelling on thoughts of Ethan. He had made up his mind.
“I don’t guess you’ve heard any more about that Comanche someone spotted?” Reba changed the subject.
Hallie hesitated for a moment. No one knew that she and Ethan had gone out to their camp, met the Indian man and buried his wife. “I. . .haven’t heard anything else. Why, have you?” Lettie’s husband must have left the area once she had died. To stay here would be a danger for him. Even deadly.
Reba shook her head and tied off the end of her thread. “No. A group of men saddled up and rode out east of here a ways, but they never saw anyone.”
Her throat muscles relaxed and Hallie reached for another cookie. “Maybe he has passed on through the area,” she said.
Reba nodded and reached for her tea. “That’s the talk around town. But you know how some of them are. They’d like nothing better than a good fight with someone. And it wouldn’t matter a whit to them that there might be twenty of them and only one of him. An old one, at that, I heard.”
“Yes. Several said he was older.” She watched Reba’s hand, making the small, exact stitches. Even with her talent, it was going to take a while to finish the hem.
This was another strand of conversation that needed a good cutting off, too. She opened her mouth to change the subject, just as the bell over the front door sent a tinkling ring down the hallway.
Reba’s eyebrows shot up and she moved the dress to the chair next to her. “Sounds like I may have a customer. You wait right here and I’ll go check. Oh,” she stopped before leaving the room, “there‘s another tea pot ready for hot water if you’re inclined to have another cup.”
More tea sounded good. The scent of the roses reminded her so much of her mother. Some days, when the blossoms were in bloom, the house would be filled with their sweet aroma.
She took the kettle of boiling water from the stove and poured the steaming liquid into Reba’s extra tea pot, Blue Willow, to match her other. Folks said she had brought the entire set of dishes with her from Georgia. How ha
d she ever managed to get them here undamaged? Hallie’s own mother had purchased her set of chinaware in Fredericksburg a few years after arriving in this area, before Chance was even a town.
She turned as Reba ushered another woman into the room: Chip Howard’s wife.
“Hallie, this is Irene Howard. . .Irene, Hallie Bolton. Hallie is our former school teacher. Now she runs a ranch of her own.”
“Hello. I’ve seen you at church a few times, but I don’t think we’ve spoken more than a few words, Mrs. Howard.” Hallie smiled, trying to cover her embarrassment. There was no need for Reba to mention her ranch. As lazy as Chip Howard had been with his in the past, hers was the worst for the neglect.
The woman smiled and nodded. “Nice to meet you, too, Miss Bolton. And call me Irene, please.”
“Hallie,” she replied, watching Reba direct the woman to a chair next to Hallie’s. She set the teapot on the table and turned to take a cup from the hooks under an open cabinet. She set the cup and a saucer it in front of the woman and poured, before taking her own seat.
“Oh my, this is nice, Mrs. Barkley. I didn’t mean to disturb you and your company, though,” she said taking a tentative sip of the hot liquid.
Reba smiled and picked up the dress she had draped over a chair. “Hallie’s a friend, but also a customer. I’m just finishing up the hem for her. We’re happy to share some tea and chat for awhile.”
Irene nodded and reached for a cookie from the plate Hallie held out to her. “I’m not used to such friendly people as I’ve met here in Chance.”
Reba’s face clouded. “Oh? Where are you from, Irene?”
Irene took a bit of cookie and smiled, She swallowed before she spoke. “It’s a little place in Illinois. It’s not so much the people’s fault. Just so many bad things happened to the area that it’s never really recovered. Folks have felt down for so long that it’s hard for them to be happy.”
Reba sighed. “Best thing to do is get on with life. I reckon the war took a toll on all lives no matter their side in the war.”
“Yes,” Irene replied. “It was. . .a little hard for me when I started writing to Charles. Once I found out he had fought for the Confederacy, I hesitated to keep writing. But he won me over in the end.” She reached for her tea.
Hallie searched her mind for something to add to the conversation. She was never good at conversation with new acquaintances. “So, how are you liking Chance?”
Irene turned her dark eyes to Hallie. “I’m very happy here. I’ve never had such a nice home. Charles is so good to me, and everyone I meet is friendly. I couldn’t ask for more.”
So she was happy with Chip. . .or Charles, as she called him. Hallie blinked away the surprise in her face. “I’m so glad that everything is working out for you. I mean, for you and Ch. . .Mr. Howard.”
Irene laughed. “I know everyone is curious about our letter writing. It was Charles that put the advertisement in the papers trying to find a wife. I was alone, a war widow.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hallie and Reba said at once.
“Thank you,” Irene acknowledged. “It has been very hard for me, these past fifteen years. Well, I saw Charles’s little advertisement and he sounded just like what I wanted. So, I took the chance and wrote. It seems quite a few other women wrote, too, but he picked me,” her cheeks pinked at her last words. “I guess I was more than a little surprised by that.”
“The Lord’s will,” Reba replied, taking a cookie from the plate.
Hallie smiled. Irene might have exaggerated her age in her letters, but she was a sweet woman. Chip was blessed to get her. She would do nothing but make his life better. “Well, I’m very happy for both of you,” Hallie said.
Maybe a mail order spouse wasn’t such a bad idea. Ethan thought it was the answer to his needs. She grit her teeth at the thought. How would she ever make herself be friends with the woman in Ethan’s life? She’d never been jealous before, but that must be the nasty feeling that kept rearing up in her head whenever she thought about his bride. And remaining in this conversation would do nothing but make the resentful feelings grow.
“If you don’t mind, Reba, I think I’ll just go on and finish my chores here in town,” she said, putting her cup on the table. “And it was very nice meeting you, Irene. Please feel free to stop by my house any time.”
“It is so nice getting to know you, too,” the older woman beamed. “I’d love to have both of you,” she glanced at Reba, “out for tea some afternoon.”
“I’d enjoy that,” Hallie replied, taking her cup and saucer to the dishpan of water on the counter.
“I’d like that, too,” Reba said, re-threading her needle. “We always enjoy having another woman join our circle of friends here in town. There are several activities for you to enjoy, if you’re willing.”
“Oh, I’d love to get more involved, once we get the ranch in order,” Irene said. “Someone mentioned a quilting group to me. Do they meet every week?”
“In the winter,” Reba replied. “Too much work during planting and harvest season.” She turned to Hallie. “It will take me another hour or so before I’m finished with this hem. If you’d like, I can bring it Sunday and put it in your wagon.”
“That will be fine,” Hallie agreed, pushing her chair under the table “That way, you can go ahead and discuss Irene’s order with her. Thank you very much for the tea and cookies. And very nice meeting you, Irene.”
“Thank you for the visit,” Reba smiled, putting the waves of fabric on the table and standing. “I’ll walk you on out to the door. My legs could do with a bit of stretching.”
“Goodbye,” Irene called after her.
Chapter 21
Hallie spotted Ethan’s horse tied in front of the livery, but he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe that was for the best. She could finish her shopping and be on her way back home.
It was a good plan, until she exited the post office. She ran almost smack into him, stopping just inches from him as she stepped out the door. “I. . .I’m sorry. Excuse me,” she forced herself to look up into his sea blue eyes. Eyes she thought she would never be able to meet again after the angry outburst last evening.
He nodded and barely tipped his hat. “My fault.” He stepped to the side to let her pass.
Hallie gave him a brief smile and stepped around him.
“Hallie?”
She took a breath and turned. “Yes?”
His expression was calm, as if their conversation last evening had never happened. “I. . .uh, I have to go to San Antonio for a few days. Fella was supposed to have stopped by and picked up my cattle on his way to Kansas earlier this spring. I need to see why he’s running late. When I get back, I’d like you to help me write that letter. . .if you’re willing, I mean.”
So the moment she’d dreaded for these past two months had finally arrived. All of her hope that he might change his mind was gone in a flash. Nothing to do but smile. “Of course. I’ll be glad to help you. Have a safe trip.” She turned and was on her way before he could speak to her. Before he could see the liquid that pooled in her eyes. How could she be so stupid as to fall in love with a man that didn’t want her? She knew old maids had a reputation for being silly and falling in love with the wrong men. But usually they were, well, inappropriate men. Drunkards and gamblers. Ethan was a fine man. A man that would make a good husband to any woman. Any woman but Hallie Bolton.
She hurried across the street and untied Satin from the hitching post. Her mail deposited on the seat, she pulled herself up. “Let’s go, girl,” she slapped the reins across the horse and refused to look back to see if Ethan was watching her. It was all nonsense in her head that hoped he even thought of her when she wasn’t teaching him how to read and write.
She had let her feelings about him settle in her mind and heart, ignoring all the warning bells that sounded whenever she talked with him. He was a man that wanted a wife as a business partner. Not a love partner. She would never be someon
e he would choose. And even if he wanted her on his own terms, she could never accept. She would not marry any man, not even Ethan Kane, for anything short of love.
***
Ethan stared after her until the wagon disappeared in a dusty cloud. He should have said more. Should have apologized for his harsh words the evening before. He had seen the hurt in her face, the pain in her eyes. Even now, his cheeks burned with the shame of giving her such anguish. She had no way of knowing his past, no way of understanding how he had separated himself from even the idea of love, from being close to anyone he might be able to care about. There were some things that hurt too much to try again.
He swallowed and watched the puff of dust dissipate in the air. No doubt, being around Hallie had unburied a few feelings that he had thought were gone for good. She was a neighbor, an old maid, some folks said. He shook his head. She was so much more than that. So much more than he could ever deserve.
A slow breath escaped his lips. He would stick to the one promise that he’d made to himself. No need to stir up old feelings that would never be returned. Hallie was too refined to want a man like him. A man that might embarrass her with his halting words when he read aloud, his awkward conversations in public. He cringed to think of her watching him count out change at Stoner’s Mercantile.
No, Hallie was better off without him. And her silly notion of sending off for a groom still caused a smile to cross his lips. It was one thing for a man, but a woman sending off for a spouse to come to their home seemed foolish, and possibly dangerous. What was the world coming to?
The beat of hooves and heavy sound of a wagon caught his ear, and he turned to see the stagecoach pulling into town, billows of dust following it until it came to a stop. The driver jumped down and opened the door. A tall, dark-headed man, dressed in a pin-striped suit stepped out. He straightened the bowler hat he wore on his head and stared up and down the street, his glance stopping on Ethan for only a moment.
Ethan's Wild Rose Bride (Texas Frontier Brides Book 2) Page 12
