Albert had set up my bedstead against the outside wall, but I dragged it over in under the window. I pulled the mattress on, and went to tighten the ropes. Though we each had our rooms, I set it a little loose. A bit of sagging meant two would slide together.
April helped me fix my hair into a nice, stylish roll in the front. Mary Pearl had gotten a photographing box with a hood and a whole crate of silverplates, and she set them up and took a picture of me sitting in front of Udell. Then Udell said he had found the perfect spot for the wedding, and the weather was just fine for it, so he led the way and off we walked down the hill from the house. He must have worked many long days and nights to make this special place, for we were all amazed and said so, with each step we took.
Udell had cut a pathway and carefully placed stone steps, all lined and mortared in, right down the slope to where we’d sat and admired his house long ago. Each step was chiseled square and flat, laid in level as if he’d had the use of the spirit level all along. At the bottom next to the gurgling Cienega, where in another month the bank would overflow with wild purple irises that looked so like stars in the grass, he’d set bricks and wide beams to make permanent benches in a circle under a tall cottonwood tree. Stones had been set into the creek bed enough to build up a little pool and cause a waterfall that sounded like a music box to me. A nice ramada was set to one side, and streamers of red and white papers were nailed to its posts, while hanging from the inside beams of it were dozens of white-painted wooden stars. To save the grass and the flowers, the only places where the ground had been cleared were under the benches themselves, likely so a snake wouldn’t be waiting there under a person’s feet.
I could see betwixt the dry clumps of grass the shoots of irises already wakening. A fringe of green surrounded the dry grasses, promising to replenish the beauty of the spot.
Savannah came to me and hugged me then took my hand, saying, “This is sure a pretty place he’s made. A sweet little garden for picnicking or reading a book or sewing. I don’t doubt you’ll have plenty of fine times here.”
I felt the heat of a deep blush on my face. No one here except Udell and me could know what this spot meant to the two of us. I smiled then said, “It’s mighty pretty when the flowers bloom between the grasses. A regular star garden.”
“Sarah, you look as fresh as a daisy,” she whispered. “Why you’re blushing no end!”
I lowered my face. “I’m just happy, I suppose.”
“When Udell told me he was building this place, I planted some daffodil bulbs here, too, for you. And look, nothing has dug them up at all. Maybe they’ll bloom alongside the iris under the shade here. It’ll be so beautiful.”
Arm in arm, she and I sat upon the large stone where I’d once gotten a good look at the house. I said, “Reckon that house isn’t too ugly anymore. From that watchtower, we can see your place along with my old house and the graveyard. All the way down to the new railroad tracks, too.” After a bit, I said, “Never thought I’d marry again, after Jack.”
“Well, I think Udell will take good care of you. Much as you’ll let him, of course.”
“I’m sure sorry about Aubrey and the way he broke Mary Pearl’s heart. Udell tried to have a talk with him, too, but it did no good. Look at her there. Isn’t she a vision?”
Savannah nodded. “Oh, me. She’s made photographs of the whole family with that thing. Just look at her. She’s taken on a whole new life. I wanted to keep her by my side, make sure she did things my way. Now I can see she’d never have been happily married to him the way Rachel is. Maybe it was meant to be.”
“Our children are all fine folks, Savannah, every one of them.”
She shook my arm and looked deep into my eyes for a moment, as her own filled with tears. “I’ll tell Albert it’s time to get this wedding going,” she said. “Promise me you won’t stay too many days away from my kitchen table, though.”
“I promise, honey.”
When we got everyone sat down for the wedding, Savannah and Albert sat by Dr. Pardee who sat next to Rebeccah. Granny and Savannah kissed my cheek and Albert gave my hand to Udell. Gilbert held hands with Charity. Harland’s boys and April’s children rolled about the place like tumbleweeds. Then, back at the house, while Zack and Ezra discovered the dumbwaiter was big enough to ride in, we dished up pies and roast goose and potatoes to serve an army. Then everyone sang and we had a fine time until late in the evening.
When all our guests had gone and Granny was tucked in bed, I went up and combed out my hair. I tiptoed to his room and found Udell on his knees before his bed. His voice said softly, “Thank you, sir. Amen.”
“Udell?”
“Yes, Mrs. Hanna?”
“It’s chill up here, Mr. Hanna. I was wondering if you’d mind to keep me warm?”
“Why, no, Mrs. Hanna. I—I don’t mind.”
“I’ll just change, then. Won’t take a minute.”
He nodded again with a look as if he were about to weep with joy.
January 10, 1908
Gilbert told me this morning that he and Charity will wed next week, just before Mary Pearl returns to Wheaton. Gil and Charity plan to live at the adobe house and work on patching the rest of the holes and the glass. Rebeccah has asked her parents to invite Dr. Pardee, too, though it will hardly be a change for him since he has come to the house twice a week and not charged for the visit. Whether he’s calling on his patient or Rebeccah Prine, it would be hard to say.
Charlie goes to the station to look for mail every day. He has written a dozen letters, and heard back from all, even got a letter from the territorial governor. After him explaining to colonels and commanders, politicians and lawmen alike that his brother is no longer able to take the commission, and him sending his own recommendations from Burt Mossman and even John Slaughter himself, the Army has settled that Charlie will take his brother’s place at the West Point Military Academy. All his experience and knowing all those fellows stood him in good stead, I reckon. It’s hard for me to look in his face and see the boy I raised replaced with an iron-boned man. There’s a deep crease, just like his father’s, between his eyebrows that wasn’t there when he came home with his bride last year.
Charlie will leave tomorrow for his new life. He put on his cadet’s uniform for me, and though another mother might have fought back tears, all I felt was pride in him. He promised me he will stop in town and have a daguerreotype done and sent home to me. A person could ride the length and breadth of this country and not find a better man than Charlie Elliot.
We read in the Daily Star and Citizen papers that Mexico is headed for all-out war. It will be no small wonder to me if the resistance will be long and bloody, for old Don Porfirio has more enemies than friends, Rudolfo Maldonado among them, and surely the blood spilled will reach from Mexico City to Cananea.
For us, many miles north of the fracas, here in Arizona Territory, we have fought and won a hard battle. Peace reigns through our days now. Someday, softer women like my April will be more common than my kind. One day, too, the far-off sound of a locomotive will remind us of what it took to own this peace, the lives lost, the dreams spent and gained. No one made a life here without backbone and perseverence. It’s a place with no forgiveness, this Territory, this land that I love.
Though tonight I lie here alone, I hear my husband breathing hard from the other room after a long day spent penning his sheep. The critters mumble and nag each other constantly, but we are secure in the two good dogs that guard them. As I lie here in bed, I am alone but not lonely. When I pressed Udell to tell me why he created my own room, he told me it was simply because I was a lady, and ladies just needed such things. If that doesn’t beat all. A lady at last.
I see from this high window, Udell Hanna has given me a sky full of glittering diamonds. Walls tall and secure as only a castle may be. I can hear the nighthawks trill a lullaby. A little bat is bouncing through the air, taking bugs for his supper. Downstairs, Buttons lies curled at
the front door, king of his domain. From the front porch, a single road leads straight to the people I love, and brings them straight to me.
Appendix
Arizene Pecan Pic (enc 9-inch pic)
Begin by putting 3 ice cubes in a measuring cup and add water to at least ½ full. Melt 2 tablespoons of real butter in a small bowl or pan; set aside for filling. Assemble ingredients and have at hand: flour, salt, shortening, sugar, syrups, eggs, vanilla, pecans, measuring utensils, and rolling pin. Heat oven to 350 degrees.
One-crust Pie Shell
1 cup (rounded, unsifted) unbleached white flour
½ teaspoon salt
¼ cup Crisco shortening (Granny used 3 tablespoons lard)
½ cup (+/-) iced water
Mix flour with salt, cut in shortening until it looks like heavy meal. Drizzle in ice water a little at a time, about ½ cup, mixing lightly just until it sets up in one piece. Pop it out onto a floured counter. Roll about ¼ inch thick, about 2 inches bigger than pan all around (9-inch pie plate), lay it in, trim to make an even rim, pinch up the edge, and poke the middle with a fork in 6 or 8 places. Let it sit in the refrigerator for 15 minutes or so while assembling the filling.
Pecan Pie Filling
4 large eggs
1 cup sugar
1 big pinch salt (about l/8 teaspoon)
2 tablespoons butter, melted, cooled slightly
2 teaspoons vanilla
½ cup Light Karo Syrup
½ cup Dark Karo Syrup
¼ cup clear maple syrup
2½ cups shelled pecan halves, do not chop
Beat eggs lightly in a big bowl. Stir in sugar and salt, butter and vanilla. Blend well. Then add all three syrups and mix well. Put pecans in and stir. Pour into crust and bake for about an hour at 350 degrees.
After 55 minutes, start checking for doneness. Slide a table knife into the syrup mixture an inch from the edge. When it pulls out clean, pie is finished. Let cool slowly; the center will finish cooking on the table. Good served warm with vanilla ice cream.
This makes as good a pecan pie as you can get if made with real sugar, butter, and maple syrup, even better if you have a tree out front to shake, and kids to pick and shell a bowl of fresh pecans, like my grandmother had. Don’t substitute artificial sweetener, vanilla, margarine, or anything else that’s not the real thing.
The Star Garden Page 39
