“I’m going to the Howland farm,” she finally said. She didn’t like the mousy pitch of her voice.
Pearl rested her chin on the broom. “Why? Did Rooster forget something?”
“Something . . . or something.” She smoothed out her skirt again. “Well, I’ll let you know after what it’s all for.”
“After?”
Gentry nodded.
“You’re acting funny. Kind of like Pa did when—”
“No.” The word pricked her tongue, and Pearl closed her mouth with an audible clink of her teeth. “I mean, no, I’m not . . . please don’t compare me to Pa. Or Ma. Or anyone.” She pressed her fingers below her ribs, trying to ease a new cramp. “I promise I’ll make more sense as soon as I’m back. Good sense. This is a good thing.”
Pearl nodded, slowly, and Gentry’s tongue felt too big for her mouth. A good thing, she repeated to herself, smoothing her skirt and wiping her hands clean at the same time. A good thing. A good thing.
“Well.” She eyed the door. Pushed herself toward it. “I’ll be back. Take care.”
Pearl merely watched with a skewed eyebrow. Gentry bit down on the nonsensical words dancing between her teeth and stepped out into the bright afternoon. Judging by the too-hot sun, it was just a little past noon. Gentry had thought it later. At least the heat will give me a healthy flush, she thought, then sighed. Those were her ma’s words.
At the thought of her mother, Gentry scanned the floor until she saw the glimmer of the gold locket by the leg of her bed. She picked it up and examined the chain. It had broken at the link Agnes had put into the chain at American Fork. Pinching the link in her fingers, Gentry looped it back through the chain and cinched it closed with her teeth. She clasped it around her neck, letting it rest on the collar of her dress instead of being hidden by it.
To get from her small homestead to Hoss’s farm, she took the subtle road, which was little more than two wagon tracks denting the desert soil. She was nearly to the halfway point when she saw a figure coming toward her. Her first thought was that Rooster was coming home sick again, or perhaps there wasn’t enough work to keep him on today, and her stomach twisted. However, as she neared, she recognized Hoss Howland himself, and her stomach twisted in the other direction.
He tilted his hat when they were still several paces apart and called, “Afternoon to you, Miss Gentry. Odd seeing you out here. I was just on my way to invite you and Miss Pearl for lunch.”
Gentry swallowed. The air sweltered around her. “I-is that so?” she asked. “Without a horse?”
Hoss paused about two paces from her. “Indeed—thought my legs could use the stretch. But what are you doing out and about?”
Of course, the only thing in this direction was Hoss’s farm, and he knew that. Gentry felt dizzy a moment, her core cold and her skin burning, her insides a swirl. Lord help her, what was she supposed to say? Was this too forward? But Hoss had mentioned it first . . . but that was a while ago, wasn’t it? But she couldn’t wait. She’d been waiting since Pa left, and they’d run out of time.
“I w-was meaning to talk to you.” She cleared her throat in as ladylike a manner as she could manage.
“Oh?” He adjusted the brim of his hat to see her better. His brows were raised in expectation.
Gentry began to wring her finger in her fist, then noticed and dropped her hands to her sides. She smoothed her skirt, but that took only a moment, and her hands were free again. She clasped them behind her back.
“I did want to thank you for the fiddle.” She cursed her tongue.
Hoss laughed. “You already have. But I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Sure would love to hear you play.”
“You will.” She studied the ground between them. No, look at his face. She lifted her gaze. Hoss’s eyes had a bit of green to them. His beard was a little rough and in need of a trim—it hid half of his lips. Gentry tried to imagine kissing those lips. She could do it, couldn’t she? The beard would just—
“I’ve been thinking about American Fork,” she blurted before her thoughts ran rampant. “About our last trip there. What you said before you and Rooster went into Salt Lake.”
She readied to explain further, but the crease in Hoss’s forehead and the stiffening of his posture told her he remembered quite well the brief words he’d uttered to her that evening.
Gentry waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. Had she stunned him? Silence began to swelter beneath the blistering sun. A drop of sweat traced the curve of her spine. It reminded her of holding a chicken in her hands during the seconds before she had to snap its neck.
“I mean,” she blundered, unable to bear the quiet, “if I understood you correctly. If you meant . . . that is, if you still mean—”
“I do.” His voice was quiet yet penetrating. Those two simple words sliced through Gentry’s, and the hot and cold warring inside her thundered.
“Then,” she swallowed, and her gut sank, “I would accept you.”
The new silence that fell seemed to last eternity, though Gentry counted three and a half heartbeats before Hoss blinked and a smile pulled on his lips. He pulled his hat off. “You really mean it?”
Gritting her teeth against the spike of pain in her chest, Gentry nodded.
“I’ll be!” In a blur, Hoss scooped her up and swung her around, eliciting a shriek from her. He set her down and laughed. “You really mean it?”
Gentry smiled at his happiness. “I said I did, didn’t I?”
Hoss stepped back. “This is . . . I’m surprised, is all. This is wonderful. Come, come for lunch! Let’s talk. Let’s celebrate!”
Gentry managed a laugh—a quiet, strained one, but she thought it sounded genuine enough. “Pearl is—”
“Pearl. Yes, let’s get Pearl.” He grabbed her hand and grinned wider than she’d ever seen him grin. “Let’s get Pearl!”
And they did.
Hoss’s farmhouse was several times the size of Gentry’s—about the same size as the Hinkles’—and painted blue with white trim. He had painted it last spring, when Gentry had mentioned the colors would look fine on it. Perhaps that was when this all started.
Acres of corn and pumpkin stretched behind the home, but Hoss ushered Gentry and Pearl inside too quickly for Gentry to try and spot her brother in the rows between crops. In the kitchen, Hoss had laid out a finer feast than Gentry had seen in months—cheese and bread with jam and milk and chicken and raspberries. Her eyes marveled. Did Hoss merely want a nice meal to share today, or did he eat like this regularly? It crossed Gentry’s mind all the meals she could make in his home—rich stews and cornbread and pies. So many pies. Then she saw Hoss’s beaming face and averted her gaze in shame.
“Don’t hesitate.” He pulled out Gentry’s chair for her. “I’ll shout for Rooster—he should join us.”
Gentry sat, and Pearl took the chair behind her, eyes wide as she took in the jam and cheese. Hoss hurried out the back door, which connected with his large kitchen. Gentry always thought it odd for him to have such a large kitchen when he barely used it. Then again, he’d likely built this house intending to have a wife.
Gentry’s stomach shriveled to the size of a marble, but she loaded up a plate of food anyway. She’d force every bite down, if she had to. She wouldn’t forgive herself for wasting such a meal—and such generosity—because she felt a little sick.
“What’s all this about?” Pearl asked when Gentry handed her a plate. “Why is Hoss so happy?”
“He invited us for lunch.” She busied herself filling Pearl’s cup with milk.
“But he’s so happy about it.”
Gentry sat down, staring at the raspberries in front of her. She loved raspberries. Her mouth usually watered at the sight of raspberries.
Gentry folded her hands in her lap, squeezing her fingers until they hurt. “Pearl, you know Hoss is fond of us.”
Her sister eyed her with a crooked brow.
“He is. And he’s in need of a wife.
He asked me a little while ago, and today I said yes.”
The door opened, and Hoss bounded in, Rooster behind him.
Pearl’s chin dropped. “But what about Winn?”
Gentry stiffened with alarm, but Hoss didn’t seem to have heard. He was chuckling over something, and as Rooster stepped into the kitchen, his clothes already stained from the morning’s work, Hoss said, “We’re going to be brothers, you and I.”
Rooster slipped off his hat. “Brothers?” he asked, noticing Gentry and Pearl. His eyes narrowed at Gentry.
Hoss’s face fell. “It’s not so bad.”
Pulling his attention from his sisters, Rooster shook his head. “Oh, no, I’m just surprised. Gentry never said anything to me.”
Gentry picked up her fork. “And why should I gush about such things to my little brother?”
Rooster watched her a moment more before tugging his gaze away and taking Hoss’s hand. “Congratulations,” he said, and Hoss’s good humor seemed to return.
He pushed Rooster toward the table. “Go on, eat,” he said to Gentry and Pearl. “I put the food out for it, no need to wait.”
His eyes met Gentry’s, and he flashed a grin. Gentry tried to mirror it before popping a raspberry in her mouth.
It wasn’t as sweet as she remembered.
Gentry expected a barrage of tactless questions from her sister as they trekked back to their home, but Pearl was unusually silent. She walked with her hands shoved into the pockets of her skirt and her heels scraping the dirt road with every step. Nearly a quarter hour passed before Gentry realized she was doing the same.
“Pearl.”
Pearl didn’t say anything.
Gentry sighed. “Are you upset with me? Sick?”
Pearl shrugged.
With a groan, Gentry ripped her hands from her pockets and flung them into the air. “Can you at least talk to me?” Do I really have to do this all by myself? “You like Hoss.”
Pearl glanced at her under the rim of her bonnet. “Hoss is old.”
“So is Willard.”
“Who? Oh.” She remembered Hannah’s husband. “I just . . . I don’t understand.”
Gentry folded her arms, but the heat made it uncomfortable, and they fell back to her sides. “There’s nothing to understand. Pa isn’t coming home. You and I can’t get jobs. The mortgage is—”
Her words cut off the same moment her feet stopped beside the wagon tracks in the road. She saw him before she saw the gulls, somehow, sitting on the dirt outside their front door, tossing something to a handful of the many seagulls perched about the house. The birds flapped their wings and opened their mouths to eat the treat.
Gentry’s body felt bloodless.
Pearl took two more steps before seeing Winn and turning back to Gentry. She didn’t say anything.
Lord help me, Gentry thought. Clasping her hands into fists, she forced herself forward. Only a few seconds passed before Winn looked over and noticed them. He stood, but didn’t wave. Perhaps he waited to gauge the situation after the revelation about Gentry’s father.
She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready for this.
They reached the first seagulls, and Pearl spoke first. “Hi, Winn.” Her voice sounded heavy. Gentry kept her eyes on the ground.
“Hi, Pearl,” he replied. “Would it be worth it to ask how you’re feeling today?”
Gentry felt their eyes on her. Quickening her step, Gentry hurried between the two of them, barely brushing elbows with Winn, and slipped into the house.
“I’m fine,” Pearl said behind her.
Gentry’s hands shook as she pulled loose the knot of her bonnet’s strings and set it on the table. Her thoughts whirled, seeking a fast solution. She could go into the bedroom and shut the door, but it had no lock, of course. She wanted to crawl into a cabinet and disappear. She wasn’t ready for this.
“Gentry?” Winn pressed the door open and let Pearl enter under his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Gentry kept her shoulder to him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Pearl said, “She’s marrying Hoss Howland.”
The four words rang in Gentry’s ears, running over her skin like the thrill of touching a hot stove, raising the hairs on her arms. Her nails dug crescents into her palms, she fisted her hands so tightly.
The seconds of silence that passed were so heavy Gentry heard them.
The door shut, hard, and for a moment Gentry thought Winn had left, but his voice, sharper than she was used to, said, “You’re what?”
She turned her back to him, hiding in her own shadow, digging the crescents deeper.
“You’re kidding.”
Pearl said, “I’m going to go change my stockings,” and strode into the bedroom.
Gentry swallowed and stiffened her shoulders, trying to stop quivering. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“How could I not?” he countered, stepping nearer. She felt his presence like the heat of the sun. “I understand because I’ve been here. Because you’ve confided in me.” A pause, and Gentry imagined him running a hand back through his hair. “And exactly how much have you told Hoss?”
Her eyes burned. She folded her arms against the cold emptiness spreading through her middle and merely shook her head. Even if she knew what to say, she wouldn’t be able to say it.
She didn’t turn around. Wouldn’t.
Too many seconds passed. Winn said nothing. The door opened and shut again. Gentry waited several breaths before turning, but he and his gulls had gone.
The bedroom door opened. Pearl squeaked, “Gentry?”
Gentry unclenched her numb hands and pressed them to her belly. She ran out the door and around to the outhouse.
She was sick for a long time.
June 23
Dear Hannah,
I’ve exciting news for you! I’m to be married t
The pencil tip broke against the paper; Gentry had been pushing too hard, again. Sighing, she pulled out a small knife and whittled the pencil to a point again. After a silent supper and sleepless night, Gentry was desperate to move on. To pull the stitches on this wound tight before she tore them out.
June 23
Dear Hannah,
I’ve exciting news for you! I’m to be married to Hoss Howland, our neighbor. You met him at the bonfire.
Memories of Winn’s arm around her as they danced around the fire sprang unwanted to her mind. She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and continued her letter.
It’s very new—we don’t have a date set or any plans, really. Of course, Hoss knows less about these things than I do, and with Mother gone . . . well, what I’m asking is if you’d help me with the wedding preparations. Guide me and tell me what to do.
She couldn’t afford a nice dress, of course, but one didn’t need a nice dress to get married. Just a courthouse, and there was one in American Fork, wasn’t there? If not, then Salt Lake. That was a long drive. They’d certainly have to stay the night.
Gentry wondered if Hoss wanted a honeymoon, and though she hadn’t eaten breakfast, her stomach swirled. She clenched the muscles around it.
I’m not sure where to begin. Should I come to American Fork? You’re welcome in Dry Creek if the trip sounds desirable to you and little Rachel, of course. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.
Please, she thought, blinking rapidly to keep her eyes dry. Someone tell me what to do.
I look forward to your response.
Love,
Gentry Sue
P.S. Rooster’s birthday is coming soon. Would you help me plan for that as well?
Maybe Hoss would give him a little extra so Gentry could buy the ingredients for a cake. When was the last time she’d had cake?
Her hands began to tremble again, so Gentry stretched out her arms and fingers before folding her letter and standing from the kitchen table. She wanted to get to the mercantile early to ensure the letter went out as soon as possible. She hated askin
g favors of Hannah, but Hannah was the closest thing to a mother she had, and Gentry needed a mother right now.
As Gentry reached for her bonnet, she heard quick footsteps outside the door. She stiffened as they grew louder, and the door swung open, revealing a winded Rooster.
“You only just left.” Gentry clutched the letter in her hands. “What’s wrong? Hoss?”
Rooster shook his head. “Seagulls.”
The letter creased into the shape of Gentry’s fingers.
Sweat dotted his brow. “I thought I should tell you that Winn’s here. There. At the farm.”
Gentry should have felt something. She knew she should have felt something, but everything inside of her was sore and sick already, and Rooster’s sudden arrival had her heart pounding. “All right,” she said, just as breathy as her brother. “All right, I’m coming. Pearl is brushing Bounder. Get Bounder.”
Rooster nodded and left, leaving the door cracked open.
Gentry stared at the floor for a long moment. Shaking sense into her head, she shoved the letter into her pocket and hurried to the water pail, filling a cup from its depths and drinking until water filled her stomach.
Snatching her bonnet, Gentry ran from the house to the stable, where her brother was cinching the saddle.
“What’s going on?” Pearl asked.
Gentry ignored her. “Why is Winn at Hoss’s?”
Rooster shook his head. “I don’t know anything other than it’s about you.” He pulled the cinch and looked at her from beneath the rim of his hat. “Have a feeling you should be there.”
Gentry nodded. Rooster mounted the mare, then pulled up Gentry so she sat on the saddle behind him. Bounder lunged from the stable. Gentry grabbed her brother’s waist with one hand and yanked her skirt down with the other. Her mind barely had time to order itself before Hoss’s blue farmhouse came into view.
Rooster halted the mare, and Gentry slid off, brushing off her bodice as she hurried to the house, noting a dozen seagulls perched on roof and porch. They scattered as she ran to the door. She didn’t bother to knock.
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