by Lori Wick
Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Cover photos © Jaimie Duplass, Robert Trawick and Oleg Prikhodko / iStockphoto
Cover by Terry Dugan Design, Minneapolis, Minnesota
AS TIME GOES BY
Copyright © 2007 by Lori Wick
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
ISBN 978-0-7369-1946-3 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-3122-9 (eBook)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wick, Lori.
As time goes by / Lori Wick,
p. cm.—(The Californians: bk.2)
ISBN 1-56507-005-4
1. Title. 2. Series: Wick, Lori. Californians: bk 2.
PS 3573.I237A8 1992
813'.54—dc20
91-3144
CIP
All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s and publisher’s rights is strictly prohibited.
Dedication
I wish to dedicate this book to my sons,
Timothy and Matthew.
Thank you for sledding, ball tag, cartoons in bed, and times of quiet play, so I’m free to write. You fill my life with love and joy, and I praise God that you are mine.
The Taylor and Donovan Families—1871
The Taylor Family
William Taylor
Wife: Mabel (May)
Children:
Jeffrey Taylor
Gilbert Taylor
Nathan Taylor
The Riggs Family
Marshall Riggs
Wife: Kaitlin Donovan Riggs
Extended Family:
Patrick Sean Donovan III
Marcail Donovan
The Bradford Family
Jake Bradford
Wife: Maryanne
Children:
Roberta (Bobbie)
Troy
Contents
Dedication
The Taylor and Donovan Families—1871
Prologue
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
eleven
twelve
thirteen
fourteen
fifteen
sixteen
seventeen
eighteen
nineteen
twenty
twenty-one
twenty-two
twenty-three
twenty-four
twenty-five
twenty-six
twenty-seven
twenty-eight
twenty-nine
thirty
thirty-one
thirty-two
thirty-three
thirty-four
thirty-five
thirty-six
thirty-seven
thirty-eight
thirty-nine
forty
forty-one
forty-two
forty-three
forty-four
epilogue
About the Author
Current Books by Lori Wick
Prologue
Santa Rosa, California
December 1871
Jeffrey Taylor tiptoed up the back stairway of his house in stocking feet. His parents and brothers were all asleep and he stepped carefully along the upstairs hallway to avoid the reliable creaks and groans of the hardwood floor.
Once in his bedroom he lit the lantern and undressed for bed. The sights and sounds from the Christmas party he had just attended came back to him. Jeff knew everyone there, had grown up with most of them. They had laughed, sang, played games, and eaten for hours. And then the hostess’ face, Sylvia Weber, swam before his eyes.
“What’s the matter with you tonight, Jeff? You haven’t been very attentive this evening.” Her voice was irritated and Jeff was quick to apologize.
“I’m sorry, I must be a little tired.”
“I’ll forgive you,” Sylvia said with a teasing light in her eyes, “if you come over right now and have one of these desserts I made.”
Jeff had gone, telling himself to perk up, but Sylvia was right; he had been distracted the whole evening. It was almost a relief to leave.
He lay in bed now, stretched out flat—almost six feet of him—hands pillowing his head. His body was ready for sleep, but his mind, full of the day’s activities and conversations, was moving like a runaway stage. Earlier that day Jeff’s father, Bill Taylor, had talked with him. Bill informed Jeff that Jake Bradford had been in to mention that his daughter Roberta was coming back to town and looking for a job.
Roberta Bradford, “Bobbie” to most, was the answer to his parents’ prayers because she was an experienced shipping clerk and only needed the position temporarily until she got married.
Jeff had known they were going to be needing someone at the shipping office, owned and operated by the Taylor family, because his mother, May, was taking some time off.
Bill’s consultation with Jeff about hiring Roberta was far more than just professional courtesy over the fact that they would all be working together. Bill told Jeff outright that if he didn’t want Bobbie to work there, they would drop the whole idea. The reason for such words from father to son dated back five years.
Finally allowing the years in his mind to fall away, Jeff let his thoughts slip back to the summer of 1866, the summer when Jeffrey Taylor’s thoughtless actions hurt Bobbie Bradford enough to drive her from her family and home for over five years.
one
Santa Rosa, California
June 1866
Seventeen-year-old Jeff Taylor was not hearing one word of Pastor Keller’s sermon. While keeping his head totally still, he could shift his eyes until he had a perfect view of Sylvia Weber’s profile. Unfortunately he could also see Richard Black.
How dare Sylvia sit with Richard in church when only last night she had let Jeff hold her hand! The sight of them made Jeff fume, but his anger didn’t last. Sylvia smiled at him as soon as church was over, causing his irritation to immediately dissipate.
“We’re leaving, Jeff.”
The words, spoken by his mother, came much too soon for Jeff’s tastes. Why, he had only had a few minutes to talk with his friends and no time to speak with Sylvia. She looked wonderful in a pale blue dress shot with flowers of dark blue, the perfect foil for her blonde hair and striking blue eyes.
Jeff wore a brooding look as he climbed into his folks’ wagon. He usually rode with Rigg, his 21-year-old brother, but today Rigg had stayed home with a summer cold.
Actually Rigg was his half-brother—Marshall Riggs. Rigg had been a toddler when his father died and his mother married Bill Taylor. Bill and May had three more boys as the years went on: Jeffrey, Gilbert, who was 13, and Nathan, the younges
t at ten.
A huge lunch of fried chicken and dumplings was enough to take Jeff’s mind from Sylvia for a few minutes—that and the job his mother had given him of taking some soup up to Rigg. Rigg wasn’t really sick enough to stay in bed, but May had wanted him to and he had done so to please her.
“Ready for something to eat?”
“Sure.” Rigg put aside his Bible and pushed up in bed. “Smells good.”
“Chicken soup.”
“How was church?”
“All right.”
“You wouldn’t know it by your voice.”
“Sylvia sat with Richard.”
“So it’s Sylvia this month.” Rigg’s voice was dry.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Calm down, Jeff.” The older man’s voice was gentle. “I’ve just noticed that you don’t stay interested in any one girl for very long.”
“It’s different with Sylvia.” Jeff spoke adamantly, a little too adamantly.
Rigg nodded sagely, wisely holding his peace. His food saved him from replying for a few minutes, and then he told Jeff that he needed to get some sleep so he could be at the store in the morning.
Jeff nearly accused Rigg of being married to the store that bore his name—Riggs Mercantile. But the one time he had hinted at such a thing, Rigg gave him quite a tongue-lashing. He told Jeff flat-out that he wouldn’t know a day of hard work if it bit him in the seat of the pants.
Jeff had silently agreed with him but replied that these were his fun years. He would have to work the rest of his life, so why start now? Rigg, who had been working at the store since he was 14 and was in complete charge since he was 19, had only shaken his head and walked away.
Jeff consoled himself with the fact that he helped out at the shipping office from time to time. The fact that his ten-year-old and 13-year-old brothers did more work than he did was conveniently ignored as Jeff once again told himself that he would be working the rest of his life. At 17 you were supposed to enjoy life to its fullest.
Jeff was just leaving Rigg’s room when his mother called him from the kitchen.
“You have a visitor, Jeffrey.”
Certain that Sylvia had come to apologize, Jeff flew down the stairs, only to find Pastor Keller waiting in the living room and talking with his father.
“Hello, Jeff,” the pastor greeted him. “Sorry to intrude on your Sunday afternoon, but I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Sure.” Jeff took a chair and gave the pastor his full attention.
“We’re planning an outing for the church. I think everyone will enjoy it. We’re going boating at the lagoon.”
“Hey, that sounds great!”
“I was hoping you’d say that. We’re planning a little something special for the young people, though, and here’s where you come in. Right now there are 12 young people from 15 to 17, six boys and six girls. What I’d like to see you do is ask the six boys to invite the girls on this outing. We’ll have a picnic and some games before the boating, which isn’t scheduled until four in the afternoon. The date is three weeks from today.”
Pastor Keller held out a piece of paper to Jeff, who took it and read in silence.
Jeffrey Taylor
Angie Stallsworth
Tom Freemont
Sylvia Weber
Richard Black
Roberta Bradford
Deacon Briggs
Kimberly Miller
Dan Walton
Dorothy Nelson
Jeremy Reeve
Lydia Caminiti
“You’re one of the older boys, Jeff, and I think a leader. I was hoping you could talk to the other fellows and ask them if they’d be willing to invite a girl from the list.”
Pleased at being referred to as a leader, Jeff nodded and continued to listen.
“If you think this is going to make anyone uncomfortable, we’ll just drop the asking part and invite the young people as a whole.”
“No, this is great,” Jeff answered from a purely selfish standpoint, thinking how much fun it would be to attend an event and have Sylvia all to himself. “I’ll talk to the others right away and let you know.”
“Thanks, Jeff. I knew I could count on you.” Pastor Keller took his leave shortly after that and Jeff asked to borrow the wagon. Within two hours all six boys from the list were in the Taylors’ yard demolishing a platter of cookies that May had delivered to them.
“So that’s the story,” Jeff explained. “These are the girls, and Pastor wants us to do the asking.”
“Who asks who?” Richard wanted to know.
“That’s what we have to decide,” Jeff told him without much friendliness in his voice.
“I’ll ask Lydia,” Jeremy offered, and the other boys, save Jeff and Richard, began to speak up. Within minutes it became apparent that two boys wanted to ask Sylvia and no one wanted to ask Roberta.
“You told Pastor this was a great idea, Jeff; you ask four-eyes.”
“Hey, Richard, don’t talk about Bobbie that way. She’s really nice.”
“Then you ask her, Deacon,” was Richard’s surly reply. But Deacon wanted to ask Angie, and being one of the younger boys, he fell silent rather than stand up to Richard, who was almost as old as Jeff.
“It looks like we tell Pastor Keller that it’s not going to work out.” Jeff voiced his solution even as he told himself that he would just ask Sylvia on his own.
“We could draw straws to see who asks Bobbie Bradford.” This was Richard’s suggestion, his voice betraying to everyone that he was sure it would never be him. The group fell silent for a moment, and each boy felt weighted down with guilt over the way they were talking about Bobbie.
Deacon was right—Bobbie was a very nice girl but she wasn’t at all attractive. She was the youngest girl on the list, not yet 15, and it appeared to anyone who cared to observe that Bobbie was never going to develop any female curves.
She was about as straight up and down as a young girl could be, and even with her short height she appeared to be all arms and legs. Her eyesight was the next thing that weighed on everyone’s mind, as each young man pictured the wire-rimmed spectacles she wore on the bridge of her turned-up nose. They made her eyes look like those of an insect, or so the boys thought.
And if those reasons weren’t bad enough, Bobbie had the ugliest hair in town. A dirty blonde color, it refused to curl or lay straight, but fluffed out from around Bobbie’s head and shoulders like the wool on a sheep.
The Bradford family was not what anyone could call affluent, but Mrs. Bradford was a whiz with a needle and thread, and most people never dreamed that Bobbie wore her mother’s made-over dresses. Bobbie had a brother who was 13 and an older married sister, who was expecting her first baby.
The family was well-liked at church and known for their hardworking, generous attitudes. Mr. Bradford did odd jobs around town and was the gravedigger for the church cemetery—not a glamorous position, but appreciated by most. Mrs. Bradford cleaned house for two of Santa Rosa’s wealthier families, and had a small business of sewing and mending clothes in her home.
But even though Bobbie’s family were hard workers and she was a nice girl, none of the boys in the Taylor yard had the desire to ask her to the outing at the lagoon. The six talked a while longer, and though most of them were overwhelmed with shame, they agreed to draw straws. The fact that this went on in the barn, out of sight from Bill and May Taylor, said much.
Jeff’s brother Gilbert wandered into the barn, but he observed from a distance and was not one to talk about anything he had seen or heard.
The youngest boy of the group, Tom Freemont, was elected to hold the straws. Within seconds Jeff stood with the long straw in this hand, trying to control the fury massing inside him.
“Well, that was easy enough,” Richard smiled with cruel contentment. “Since we both wanted to ask the same girl, this makes it quite simple.”
Jeff forced a smile onto his face.
“That settles it all right.”
The group dispersed a few minutes later, most of the boys thinking what a good sport Jeff was. Jeff stayed in the barn for a long time trying to calm down. Gil, who had seen the others off and gotten three more cookies, came back into the barn. He flopped into a mound of hay and spoke.
“You should have told Richard to shut up.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what I should have said!”
“You better hope Dad never finds out about those straws.”
“Well, he’s not going to find out from me!” The full import of that statement made Gil come straight up out of the straw. “I never snitch, Jeff!” Gilbert’s eyes flashed angry fire and Jeff looked down at his shoes. He knew he should apologize. He wanted to, but Gil stormed out and Jeff was left alone.
two
“Did all the boys leave?” May asked Jeff as soon as he walked in the kitchen.
“They’re gone.”
“Did they like the idea?”
“Yeah.”
May was bent over a pot on the stove and missed the stormcloud on her son’s face.
“How did you work it out? Are you asking Sylvia?”
“No, Richard is asking Sylvia. I’m asking Bobbie Bradford.” This announcement was enough to spin May around to face her son.
“Why, Jeffrey!” May exclaimed in delight. “That’s wonderful! Bobbie is the sweetest girl on earth.” May went back to her cooking with a huge smile on her face.
‘Maybe Jeff is growing up after all,’ she thought to herself. ‘Seventeen is such a self-absorbed age. It’s nice to see him thinking of someone besides himself for a change.’
May was oblivious to the turmoil going on within her young son. Jeff sat a moment longer deciding what to do. If he went up to his room on a hot Sunday afternoon, his mother would think he was ill. He couldn’t go see Rigg because Rigg could read him like a book and would know instantly that something was wrong. If he went to find Gil, and Gil was still mad at him, his parents would want to know what they were quarreling about. Finally, with a small disgruntled sigh, Jeff went into the living room to hide behind a book.
