“They took the back seat out of the Vermont,” Milo was saying, “so they’d have room for all their supplies.”
“The Vermont?” Gideon said. He’d never heard of a Vermont. He thought Jackson and his mechanic were driving a Winton.
“The Vermont is what Jackson named his car, you know, after the state where he and his wife live. They were only visiting San Francisco when Jackson made his bet and bought his automobile. His wife took the train back to Vermont.” Milo’s tone implied that if Gideon were better informed, he might have known those important details.
“Isn’t it swell that Jackson named his automobile?” Cora said, clutching her chest as though the thought brought her the greatest joy. “It’s almost like a love story between a man and his automobile.”
We name our horses and our dogs. What’s so monumental about naming a dumb automobile? Gideon didn’t verbalize his thoughts. Better to act like he loved the idea of naming an automobile. He didn’t have to worry about what to say though, because Milo pressed on, flaunting his greater knowledge.
“They had the backseat area piled high with sleeping bags, food, cooking gear, tools and clothes. All this stuff was stacked on top of oil cans and extra cans of gasoline, tied down with ropes. They took a block and tackle, too, which was a good thing because I’ve read they’ve already needed it to get unstuck in some of the mountain streams.” Milo glanced at Gideon when he referred to the block and tackle as though only Gideon would understand how such a device worked.
“I’ve helped my pa use a block and tackle to pull one of our survey wagons out of a mud hole,” Cora said, sweetly. “We were over by the Snake River on one of Pa’s surveys and buried up to our axles in the lead wagon. The horses couldn’t pull that wagon free because of the heavy load, but the block and tackle did the trick.”
Cora smiled at Milo, but Gideon could tell by her tone of voice that her smile contained a fair amount of indignation because Milo didn’t think she knew about a block and tackle. Gideon’s lungs filled with the warm air in the schoolhouse. It did his heart good to watch the debonair Milo Henderson squirm. Gideon never talked down to any of the Gardner girls about anything. They were smart girls, and all of them had worked their father’s farm and helped with his land surveys while growing up. Cora was no exception. She knew her way around horses and all kinds of tools and equipment.
“Ah, they also took a shotgun, rifle, and pistols,” Milo said, going back to the original conversation. He raised his brow and added, “You can probably handle any one of those firearms. Right, Cora?”
“Of course,” Cora said, her sweetest smile taking over again.
“Anyway, it was an impressive sight to watch Jackson and his mechanic roll down Market Street in San Francisco toward the ferry.” Milo rolled his shoulders as if he were a bit befuddled and trying to reach Cora’s good side again with all his first-hand information. “The noise and dust created by their automobile scared the horses on Market Street, but in that city, horses are already sharing the roads with automobiles. The Vermont chugged right onto the ferry and crossed over to Oakland to start the trip east from there. Or, should I say north and then east from there?”
“Oh, my!” Cora said, clasping her cheeks with her hands. “I wish I could have seen them off.”
“They didn’t get too far before they started having tire troubles,” Milo said, puffing out his chest importantly. “I heard they only had one spare tire. After using it, they wrapped their tires with rope to keep going. After watching them start this race, I wouldn’t miss seeing them come through our state.”
Gideon wondered if he’d be able to leave work long enough to go with Cora to watch the Vermont drive through Idaho. His family’s business had so many new orders for mail wagons, farm wagons, and wheels, they could barely keep up as it was. When Gideon thought about the possibility of Milo taking Cora to see Jackson and his mechanic drive through Idaho, though, he knew he had to take the time off someway. If he started now and worked eighteen-hour days, maybe he could get ahead on manufacturing the wheels his father needed. But part of him still hoped that Jackson didn’t even make it out of California or Oregon in his automobile. If the crazy automobile enthusiast didn’t reach Idaho, Gideon wouldn’t have anything to worry about.
3
Tuesday afternoon, after hurrying to complete her chores inside the house and out in the barn, Cora searched her mind for an excuse to drive into town to the newspaper office. She couldn’t wait any longer to find out if Horatio Nelson Jackson and his mechanic were in Oregon. If their new tires had finally shown up on the Saturday stage coach, it was possible they could be near the Idaho border. She had read in her father’s newspaper that the Vermont could reach top speeds of thirty miles in an hour, but she didn’t think the automobile could go anywhere near that fast on the rough mountain roads or out in the desert.
Cora’s father and her brother-in-law, Evan Howell, had left the day before to join a huge land survey. The survey was organized by the government to map thousands of acres of lava rock formations not terribly far from Clover Creek. Cora was thankful the government provided food for this project, and she wasn’t needed to cook for her father’s survey crew. She would have gone crazy if she couldn’t stop by the newspaper office every few days to track Horatio Nelson Jackson’s whereabouts.
After all, she did have her fifty-cent bet with Gideon to be concerned about.
Thinking of Gideon gave her a grand idea for an excuse to hitch up the horses and go into town. His family was having a wayzgoose on Friday night. The wayzgoose was a traditional celebration the Lewis family put on after completing the manufacture of the big farm wagons, and the Gardner family was always invited.
“Ma?” Cora said, finding her mother in the parlor, her current mending project in hand. “Do you mind if I take the girls and drive into town to see if Mrs. Lewis needs help preparing for Friday night?”
“That’s a great idea,” Mrs. Gardner said. “Please reassure Mrs. Lewis that we’re bringing the pies. We’ll be baking all day Thursday and Friday before the wayzgoose.”
Alice and Zina, Cora’s two sisters next to her in age were staying with their oldest sister and her children until the men returned from the land survey. That meant more work for Cora to help get all the pies ready, but she didn’t mind. The Lewis’s wayzgoose was one of the highlights of living in Clover Creek.
“I’m looking forward to helping with the pies,” Cora said cheerfully, before running upstairs to find her youngest sisters.
Thirty minutes later, the Gardner carriage was hitched up and the horses were trotting toward town. Cora drove with Fern and Beth sitting close on each side of her.
The first thing Cora did when she reached town was stop at the newspaper office. When Cora and her little sisters walked in and found Jake Weston working the press with his father, she felt badly that Alice wasn’t with her. A slight grimace from Jake led her to believe that Jake also felt badly that Alice wasn’t there.
“Are you here to buy a newspaper, or are you just checking up on Horatio Nelson Jackson’s road trip?” Mr. Weston asked, chuckling.
“We already bought your last edition,” Cora answered, “but Pa’s off on that government survey now, and trust me, your newspaper went with him.”
“So, I guess that means you’re here to check up on that Jackson fellow and find out what we’ve heard recently.”
“Exactly,” Cora said, expectation written all over her face. “I haven’t heard a word since Sunday, and I’m going crazy wondering if Jackson’s reached Idaho yet.”
“Far from it,” Mr. Weston said, shaking his head. “They barely left Alturas yesterday, and they still don’t have new tires. The stage didn’t catch up to them yet.”
“What?” Cora was stunned. “Surely you jest.”
Jake Weston shook his head. “They’ve had one delay after another, but hopefully, they’re out of California by now, if their old tires are holding up. They headed for the li
ttle town of Lakeview the last we heard. That’s barely over the border into southern Oregon.”
“If they haven’t given up,” Mr. Weston said, crossing his arms. He raised one eyebrow when he looked at Cora “I don’t see how they can keep going on rope wrapped tires.”
Cora’s cheeks burned. “They won’t give up. They’ve got ninety days to prove they can cross the country in their automobile, and this is only . . .” She counted on her fingers. “This is only day eleven. I wonder why the stagecoach hasn’t caught up to them with the new tires.”
Mr. Weston smirked. “Don’t you find it ironic that Jackson’s trying to impress people by crossing the country in a new-fangled automobile, but he needs the stagecoach to bring him better tires? Just goes to show that the horse and buggy still reign supreme.”
Cora didn’t find the man funny. It was all she could do to smile and thank him for sharing his news. On her way out of the newspaper office with her sisters, she found Milo Henderson walking toward her. He was wearing a dark suitcoat and a derby hat and looked like he belonged in the Sears, Roebuck catalog instead of the dusty streets of Clover Creek. Milo wasn’t a tall man, or a strong man, but he was a progressive man who believed in the future of the automobile as much as Cora did.
“Good afternoon!” Milo called out. “Are you checking up on Horatio Nelson Jackson like I am?”
Cora smiled brightly, happy to encounter someone as interested in the success of Jackson’s road trip as much as she was. Her smile quickly faded though, as she shared the news that she had just heard with Milo. “The Westons said they don’t know if Jackson’s made it out of California yet. He’s still waiting for the stagecoach to bring him new tires.”
“Really? Well, don’t let that discourage you,” Milo said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “If you could have witnessed the power of Jackson’s automobile, and the man’s determination, you wouldn’t let a few setbacks dishearten you. He’s probably up and running as we speak. Once he’s out of the mountains, he’ll fly across Oregon’s desert. It’s a hard-packed sagebrush terrain, not sandy dunes like in Nevada.”
Cora’s smile returned as she envisioned the Vermont tootling through the sagebrush passing deer and antelope. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “Nothing can hold Jackson and his mechanic back once they’re out of the mountains.”
“I’m happy to see you here,” Milo said, grinning. “There’s a silent film playing Friday night, and I wondered if I could escort you to watch it.”
The second Milo mentioned Friday night, Cora remembered that she already had an errand she was supposed to be on to help Mrs. Lewis for the evening. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said. “My family has been invited to the wayzgoose the Lewis family is throwing Friday night. I’ll be going to the wheelwright barn along with them.”
“Way . . . z . . .goose you say? What’s that?”
“It’s an evening of supper and song to celebrate the completion of some wagons in the wheelwright business. I forget that your family’s only been in Clover Creek for less than a year, so you’ve probably never heard of such a thing.”
Cora glanced down at Milo’s tweed boots with their shiny leather toes. She couldn’t help but think how fancy he was. He would probably be the first person in Clover Creek to own an automobile. It thrilled her to think of an automobile in their own little town. “I don’t know if every wheelwright in the country celebrates the completion of making wagons,” Cora added, “but the Lewis family still does. The wayzgoose has been part of their heritage for hundreds of years, and our family always helps with their celebrations.”
“Hmmm,” Milo said. “I believe I heard my parents referring to this, um, celebration, although they never used that funny word to describe it. Does way . . . z . . . goose imply there will be goose for dinner?”
“Of course,” Cora said, suppressing the urge to laugh over his struggle with the word, “although there is usually roast beef and mutton as well. Ma and I are bringing apple, berry, and rhubarb pies, so there will be plenty of pie.”
“Since my father’s the new banker in town, he’s undoubtedly helped finance the increased business the Lewis family is seeing, and therefore my parents received an invitation. I wasn’t interested in attending originally, but perhaps I’ll change my plans. I wouldn’t mind trying your ma’s pies if you helped make them.”
Cora blushed. “Lovely,” she said. “You won’t be disappointed.”
After bidding Milo a good day, Cora gathered her sisters into the carriage and set off for the wheelwright barn. Their carriage no sooner pulled up to the barn than Gideon rushed out to greet them.
“Good afternoon,” Gideon said, flashing that heart-stopping grin of his. “To what do we owe the pleasure of seeing you three charming ladies today. Need another wheel repaired?” He glanced in the back of the carriage as he spoke.
“No repairs today,” Cora said. “We came by to see if your ma needs help getting ready for Friday night.”
“I’m sure Ma would love to have your help,” Gideon said, and he helped the girls down from the carriage, one by one. “You can help her in the kitchen, or help my brothers and I with the yard, whichever pleases you. We’re all working like a pack of sheep dogs around here, with Ma giving the orders. I’ll take care of your horses for you.”
Mrs. Lewis was thrilled when Gideon took Cora and her sisters inside and announced that new recruits had arrived to help with the party preparations. After hugging each girl, Mrs. Lewis soon had them clad in aprons and polishing silverware, washing the Blue Willow china, churning butter, harvesting vegetables from the garden, and harvesting asparagus from the creek. Mr. Lewis and all the Lewis boys were busy preparing the fire pit for the meat dishes, assembling makeshift tables from strips of sturdy wood, or working on the yard.
Two hours later, when Cora knelt in the garden digging for new potatoes, Gideon knelt beside her and took the digging fork from her. They worked together for some time, he digging in the dirt and bringing potatoes to the surface, while she sifted through the upturned soil to make sure they found every last potato. Cora gently placed the new potatoes into a large bucket.
After a lot of friendly chatter and working together on their hands and knees, Gideon turned to Cora and asked what she’d heard about Horatio Nelson Jackson and the Vermont. The problem was they were working so close together on their hands and knees that their heads almost touched when he asked about Jackson. The close proximity to Gideon’s face left Cora endeavoring to breathe, and she wondered if he could hear her heart beating. She couldn’t remember what his question had been.
“I asked you about Jackson,” Gideon said softly, almost reverently, his dark eyes piercing hers, as if he was aware of what their nearness was doing to both of them.
Cora couldn’t even speak with Gideon’s lips so close to hers. She tried and nothing came from her throat. She blinked and tried again. She had to do something or say something to break away from his spell since one of his brothers or one of her sisters might appear at any moment. Or, heaven forbid, one of his parents.
Straightening to her knees and placing more distance between them, she acted like she had no desire whatsoever to lean over and press her lips to his. “Are you really interested in Jackson’s cross-country trip?” she asked breathlessly, “or are you wanting to know if he’s failed so you can simply win your bet?”
“If I remember right, it was your bet,” Gideon said, his voice still soft and compelling as he straightened to his knees. His dark eyes seemed to fill with desire, and the corners of his mouth turned up enticingly.
Cora leaped to her feet now, grabbing the heavy bucket as she did so. “I’m taking the spuds to your ma,” she said.
“You didn’t answer my question about Jackson,” Gideon said, standing and taking the bucket from her, his hands brushing against hers. “And I’ll carry the bucket to Ma.”
“Go,” she said, pointing to the house with an unsteady hand. “Take the spuds
and go.”
Gideon grinned as though he thoroughly enjoyed the effect he’d had on her, but he turned and trudged toward the wheelwright barn with his bucket of potatoes.
“Jackson might be in Oregon by now,” Cora called out, her voice a little shaky. “He’ll be in Idaho before you know it!” She dropped back to her knees and wondered what had just happened. As she started digging again, all she could think about was how close Gideon’s lips had been to hers. And how much she wished their lips could have touched.
Friday morning dawned warm and clear with the sweet smell of cut hay drifting in Cora’s window. Cora’s brother, Charlie, had been up before daybreak working the hay field with a couple of hired hands. Cora was thankful she was working all day finishing the pies and helping with last-minute preparations for the wayzgoose. If it wasn’t for her mother’s generous offer to help the Lewis family, Cora and her little sisters would have spent the day out in that hay field with her brother. There would have been no hired hands. As it was, Cora flew out of bed and looked forward to a day of hard work anyway.
Once the pies were finished, loaded into the portable pie safes, and securely placed in the family carriage, Cora’s family started on their way to the wheelwright barn. They hadn’t gone far when Cora brought up a special request. “Hey, Ma,” she said, “can I drop you and the girls off at the Lewis’s, and then run an errand? I won’t be long.”
“Certainly,” Mrs. Gardner said. “What’s your errand?”
“She’s going to the newspaper office!” Beth announced. “She wants to find out where the automobile guy is.”
Cora felt her cheeks burn. “It’s true, Ma,” she said. “I just can’t get Horatio Nelson Jackson out of my mind. You know I’m fascinated with the automobile and with this road trip. It’s better than reading a dime novel.”
Winds of Change (The Surveyor's Daughters Book 4) Page 3
