by Clay, Verna
"I'm so happy to meet you, Jenny. You're beautiful and just as sweet as I imagined."
Jenny grinned. "Thank you, Miz Vaughn."
The dog darted to Brant and he squatted and rubbed behind his ears. He looked up at Abby. "And this is Wally. He wandered into our place a few years back and never left."
Abby reached to pet the dog. "It's nice to meet you, too, Wally."
Ty interrupted them. "Mama?" He stretched his hands toward Abby, and Brant watched her shocked expression quickly become replaced by joy. She looked at him and asked, "May I hold him?"
Brant felt a lump choke his throat and sudden resentment strike his heart like a cobra that it wasn't Molly holding their baby. He nodded and Jenny stepped off the porch and handed Ty to Abby. Ty, always trusting, hugged her neck. Abby hesitated a moment and then laid her cheek against his blond curls.
Brant looked at Luke. "Please welcome Miz Vaughn to our home, son."
Luke gave his father a mutant look but Brant didn't waiver in his stare. Finally, the boy said in a resentful tone, "Welcome, Miz Vaughn."
"Thank you, Luke. I appreciate that this is difficult for you," she replied softly.
Ty stretched his arms toward Brant, "Papa."
Abby shifted the baby and handed him over. Her eyes, the color of freshly brewed coffee, met Brant's gaze when he lifted Ty from her arms. For a second he couldn't think what to say. "Uh, why don't we go inside where it's not so hot? Jenny can pour tea for everyone." He handed Ty back to his daughter. "Luke, help me unload Miz Vaughn's trunk and then take the buckboard to the barn and unhitch Sugar and Smoky."
With a defiant look, Luke grabbed one end of the trunk.
Chapter 4: Cookies
Abigail stepped onto the wide porch and entered the cabin when Brant motioned her forward. Jenny followed and then Brant and Luke carried her trunk inside. Pausing near a long table, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light and then scanned the modest interior.
"Please sit down, Miz Vaughn," said Jenny.
"Since your father is calling me Abby, I'd be pleased if you would, too."
"Okay…Miz Abby," Jenny said shyly. She set Ty on the floor and watched him run to climb on a wooden rocking horse near the hearth, and then she walked to open-faced shelving above wooden countertops and grabbed some mismatched glasses, setting them on the table. While she poured tea from a battered metal pitcher, Abigail surveyed the cabin in more detail. Her gut instinct told her that the faded curtains hanging above a deep sink with a hand pump had been lovingly sewn by Jenny's mother. She twisted her hands in her lap, feeling pain for this family who had lost someone so precious to them. How could she even begin to replace their loss? Inadequacy loomed like a rain cloud threatening to drench her in misgivings.
Brant and Luke returned from delivering her trunk into another room and Luke slammed out the front door. Brant stared sadly after him before turning and patting his daughter on her head of honey colored hair. "Jenny baked up cookies for your arrival." He reached for a plate on the table and held it out to Abigail. To show her appreciation, she smiled and selected the largest odd shaped mound.
"Thank you, Jenny. That was very considerate." She nibbled on a corner. It was so hard she had to use an eye tooth to break off a piece. "Hmm, very tasty," she tried to sound convincing.
Jenny's face lit with an ear-to-ear grin.
Brant grabbed two cookies and walked to the door, tossing one to Wally, and finishing his own in two bites.
Abigail sipped her tea and did her best to chew the stone hard cookie. Ty ran to the table and pointed at the plate. His father grinned and handed him a treat. Abigail wondered how the baby would chew it and relaxed when he just sucked on it.
She glanced toward the doorway her trunk had disappeared into. Peering from beneath her lashes, she felt her face flame when she saw Brant watching her. She thought she saw a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth.
"We put your trunk in our extra room. Jenny and Ty sleep in the room next to yours and Luke sleeps in the loft. My room is on the opposite side of the cabin."
Abigail crunched another bite of her cookie, nodded, and studied a spot on the threadbare tablecloth. Glancing sheepishly up, she asked, "May I go to my room now. I'd like to freshen up."
Brant looked embarrassed. "I don't know where my mind's been. I'm really sorry. I should have let you do that first thing. Jenny, pump some water in a pitcher for Miz Abby and bring it to her room with a cloth. Come on, Abby, let's get you settled in." Ty ran back to the table and Brant scooped him up.
Relieved that she didn't have to finish the cookie, she tucked it in her pocket to give to Wally later and followed Brant across the cabin. He held the bedroom door open and when Ty reached his arms toward her, he said, "Not now, son; Miz Abby can hold you later."
Abigail entered the room looking forward to a few minutes solitude to process her emotions. Jenny followed and set a pitcher of water in a basin on a small table centered under the only window.
Brant said, "You rest as long as you need to." After he closed the door, she could hear the muffled timbre of his voice speaking to his children.
For a second, she couldn't move, the alteration in her lifestyle having stunned her. The glamour of traveling west and changing her whole life had no doubt blinded her to the reality of living there. Glancing around the room, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was tiny and rustic. Other than the small table, the furniture consisted of a narrow lumpy bed bumped up against the far corner and an old four-drawer chest with a matching vanity and stool. A kerosene lamp topped the chest. On the timbered wall above the bed, two pictures of pretty dresses ripped from a catalogue had been tacked up for ornamentation.
Walking to the vanity, Abigail gazed at her reflection in the wavy mirror and then fingered the lovely petals of wildflowers in a mason jar. Suddenly, that simple thoughtfulness, made the crudeness of the room insignificant.
Inhaling a shaky breath, she removed her traveling jacket and straw hat and poured water into the bowl. Squeezing out the threadbare cloth, she wiped her face and neck before stretching out on the bed and lifting her forearm over her eyes, fighting the need to sleep. Eventually, she lost the battle and drifted into dreams of a rebellious teenager, a sweet girl, a needy baby, and a rancher with eyes bluer than a summer sky.
A tapping sound confused Abigail. "What? Yes? Come in," she groggily croaked. The door to her room cracked open and Brant peeked around it.
"Uh, ma'am, Jenny has supper on the table. We figured you was plum tuckered out, but you still need to eat."
Awareness flooded her and she jumped to a sitting position in the middle of the bed. The sun had almost set and cast the room in shadow.
"Goodness, I guess I fell asleep." She reached to pat her hair and almost groaned aloud. It had escaped her bun and hung in natural waves down her shoulders and past her breasts. "I'll be right out."
"Yes, ma'am." Brant closed the door.
* * *
On the opposite side of the door, Brant laid his forehead against it. Good golly, the low light was playing tricks with his eyes. When Abby had jumped up and a mane of glorious mahogany hair covered her, she'd looked like an exotic creature of myths, and his body had reacted. Since Molly's death, he had only enjoyed the carnal side of his nature a couple of times, and that was when he'd traveled to the city on business. His loneliness had driven him to the saloon for whiskey and companionship. The gal had been older and they'd talked for a long time before doing the deed. On his next trip, he'd looked her up again and done a repeat of before. After that, he'd made up his mind to find a wife. Now, seeing Abby without her ramrod stiffness, he'd had a crazy inclination to ride out and find the preacher just so he could enjoy the body of a woman. Inhaling slowly, he lifted his head and turned when Ty let out a wail.
"He's tired, Pa. You want me to feed him and put him to bed?" asked Jenny.
"Ah, sure, that sounds like a good idea."
"You okay, Pa?"
"Yep. I'm fine." He glanced up at the loft. "Luke! It's supper time!"
Brant heard shuffling, but his son didn't answer.
"Answer me, Luke!"
"I'm comin', Pa."
Brant lifted Ty into the highchair he'd built with his own hands and Jenny set a small bowl of stew in front of him. "It's hot son. Let your sister help you."
Ty nodded. "Otay, Papa."
Jenny sat beside Ty and blew on a spoonful of stew before lifting it to the baby's mouth.
Brant heard Abby's door open and looked up. She had combed her hair back into its severe bun and become the epitome of an old maid again.
Luke climbed down the loft ladder and plopped on one of the benches that ran the length of the table.
"Luke, bless the food," he said softly.
Luke gave his father a grim look, but obeyed, saying a simple prayer of thanksgiving.
Brant looked at Abby. "Pass me your bowl, Abby, and I'll fill it with stew. Jenny, put a cornbread on her plate."
The meal progressed in stilted conversation and Ty got increasingly cranky. Finally, Brant said, "He's ready for bed, Jenny."
"Okay, Pa, I'll take him and then come back and clean the dishes."
Abby interjected, "Please, let me help. What would you like me to do?"
Jenny looked from her Pa to Abby. "You want to help me put Ty to bed and tell him a story?"
"Yes, very much so, and then I'll help clean the dishes."
Brant nodded his approval. "Luke and I are going to check the animals and finish a few chores. Come on, son."
Luke opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it when he got a stern look from his father.
* * *
Abigail followed Jenny as she carried Ty to the bedroom they shared. Upon entering, her heart jumped into her throat. The little girl had done her best to decorate a room as small as Abigail's own, and just as in her room, pages from a catalogue had been torn out and tacked on the wall beside the bed. Mostly, they were pictures of dolls or pretty dresses. An old trunk sat at the foot of the same type of narrow bed and she knew instinctively that the quilt covering the bed had been lovingly sewn by Jenny's mother. Jenny pulled the quilt back and laid Ty down, kissing his cheek. "You want Miz Abby to tell you a story?"
He nodded sleepily. "Yeth."
Jenny stepped back. "You go ahead and sit beside him, Miz Abby. I'm gonna wet a cloth to wipe his face."
Positioning herself next to the baby, Abigail reached and caressed his silky hair. She'd often made up stories for her students and a particularly favorite one was about a prince rescuing a maiden from the Land of Mysterious Places.
She waited for Jenny to return before reciting the fairytale. Ty twisted away from his sister when she tried to wash his face and hands, and Abigail reached for the cloth, pretending it was the prince's royal cape. Jenny sat at the foot of the bed and listened enraptured by the story. Even though Ty fell immediately to sleep, Abigail continued the tale. About a third of the way through, she smiled, "That's enough for tonight. We want to save some for tomorrow and the next night."
"I love that story! I just know the prince is going to fall in love with the girl and make her his princess!"
Abigail smiled, "You'll find out soon enough. Now, let's go clean those dishes."
Jenny looked toward her door. "Hi, Pa. Miz Abby tells great stories."
"Yes, I heard."
Color tinged Abigail's cheeks. How long had he been standing there?
Long into the night, Abigail lay in her lumpy bed and thought about each family member—Ty, so young and helpless, needing the care of a mother; Jenny, shouldering responsibilities that belonged to a mother; Luke, heartbroken and bitter over the loss of his mother; and Brant, selflessly thinking of the needs of his children, but longing for his first wife. Abigail turned her head into her pillow and silently wept.
Chapter 5: Ornery Chickens
Muffled sounds jerked Abigail awake. Reaching for her pocket watch that she'd set on the floor beside her bed, she barely made out the time in the light before dawn; four fifty. What time does this family get up? She was used to rising between six and six thirty, but this was ridiculous. Groaning, she sat on the side of the bed and stretched. Might as well join everyone and hope this day goes smoother than yesterday.
By the light of her kerosene lamp, she washed in the basin of water and dressed in one of her most sturdy dresses. Because she could barely see her reflection in the wavy mirror, she had to comb and pin her hair into its usual bun from years of repetition.
Her body screamed that she needed to make a trip to the outhouse soon. She'd been holding her bladder most of the night because she didn't want to use the chamber pot.
Tentatively opening her door to the smell of fresh coffee, she peered around it to see Brant, Luke, and Jenny sitting at the table, cups in hand and talking. She usually sipped hot tea with a little cream and sugar every morning, but the bracing aroma smelled heavenly. She stepped past her door.
"Hello, Miz Abby," Jenny said cheerily.
"Mornin', Ma'am," Luke said solemnly after his father nudged him.
Brant smiled. "Good morning, Abby. I didn't expect you to be up so early. You may want to sleep late the next few days until you feel rested from your trip."
"Good morning, everyone. I'm not feeling overly tired so I'd like to rise when you do." She stifled a yawn and watched that barely visible quirk of Brant's mouth.
"Come join us for coffee. We usually take a few minutes each morning to discuss the day. Then we work a couple of hours or so while Jenny collects eggs and makes breakfast. After that, we work until noon, eat lunch, work until around five, then clean up and have supper around six."
Abigail motioned to the door. "I think I should uh…"
"Oh, sure; nature's call," Brant said easily.
Abigail stepped onto the porch and inhaled the crisp air. Dawn's light was just peeking over the horizon and cast a magical glow all around. For the briefest of moments she felt happy and carefree. Following the path to the outhouse that Jenny had shown her the evening before, she longed for an indoor bathroom like the one she'd had in Philadelphia. Sighing, she opened the door to the small and smelly enclosure and did her business.
Returning to the cabin, Brant motioned toward the coffee pot. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Yes, thank you."
He started to rise.
"No, I'll get it." Abigail walked to the sink to rinse her hands and then reached into the open cupboard for a tin. Picking up a ragged pot holder, she grasped the metal pot from off the stove and poured the blackest coffee she'd ever seen. Returning to the table she sat beside Brant when he patted the spot next to him on the bench. The brush of his shoulder sent tingles down her spine. "What time does the baby wake up?" she asked.
"Usually around breakfast time. Do you like sugar in your coffee?"
"I do."
He scooted a half full mason jar and a spoon encrusted with sugar toward her. Not seeing another, clean spoon, she hesitated and then stirred a little sugar in her drink and sipped the steaming brew. It was so bitter she almost gagged. Everyone was watching her so she murmured, "Wonderful coffee."
This time the quirk of Brant's lips was unmistakable. "Did you sleep well?"
"Um, yes. Thank you."
Jenny saved the awkwardness everyone was obviously feeling by chattering about the fairytale Abigail had begun the night before. "I can't wait to hear how it ends. Too bad Ty fell asleep and missed it, but I'll fill him in on what happened."
Brant smiled at Abigail over Jenny's head and the simple gesture made her breathless. He was so handsome and rugged, not like soft city men. He stood and stretched. "Time to get goin' Luke. Leave your book behind."
Luke gave him a defiant glance, but walked to the mantle and dropped his book on it.
Brant paused at the door and reached for his hat hanging on a peg. "We'll be back in a couple of hours." He settled his hat o
n his head and tipped the brim with his index finger. The innocent motion started Abigail's heart hammering again. Luke grabbed his own hat and scurried after his father. To cover her flusters, she said, "Jenny, what can I do to help you?"
Jenny reached for the coffee tins and started clearing them off the table. "After I get these washed it'll be light enough for us to go to the hen house. I usually make biscuits and fried eggs with bacon for Pa and Luke."
Abigail assisted Jenny by drying the cups and putting them away. An appreciation of the difficult position Brant was in, and his need for a wife in a marriage of convenience, wedged itself into her heart. She remembered him expressing in his first letter his desire that his children return to school. Was money so tight he couldn't afford to hire help and that's why Luke was home? As for Jenny, caring for her baby brother was a full time job. Besides being a mother to his children, perhaps Abigail could help financially. Maybe Brant would allow her to repay him for the passage to Two Rivers that he'd insisted on purchasing. Although not wealthy, she had a small savings. Look at you, already making plans.
Jenny reached and grabbed a basket off the shelf. "Let's go see how many eggs we got today."
"What about Ty? Should we wake him?"
"No, ma'am. I blocked the door so he can't get out of the bedroom. He probably won't wake up 'til we get back anyway."
Abigail glanced at Jenny's bedroom door and noticed a leather strap wrapped around the handle and stretched to a hook on the frame. She smiled at the child's ingenuity.
At the front door, Jenny reached for her bonnet on a peg. "Ma always made me wear a bonnet when I went outside. I think I can find one of hers for you."
Abigail coughed. "Ah, you know, I have a straw hat I was going to wear. I'll go get it." She rushed to her room and opened her trunk, searching for the little hat box holding her work hat. Settling it in place, she tied the ribbons under her chin and hurried back to Jenny.
Jenny grinned, "I like your fancy hat."
Abigail stifled a smile. The hat was definitely not fancy. "Thank you, Jenny. Between your bonnet and my straw hat, we shall collect eggs in style."
