by Clay, Verna
Jenny giggled. "You're funny, Miz Abby." She turned toward the door but stopped and looked back at Abigail. "And you tell great stories. I can't wait to hear more about the Land of Mysterious Places."
"And I can't wait to tell you more about it."
Stepping onto the porch, Abigail once again enjoyed the lovely morning that hinted of rain. In the distance she could see dark clouds.
Jenny saw them, too. "Looks like it might rain later. I like the rain. Sometimes we get lightening. Mama loved storms. She said it was 'cause we all got to stay indoors and talk 'til they were over. She'd pass around cookies and read a book to everyone. Sometimes she and Pa would go in their bedroom for what she called 'special talks', while me and Luke read or did schoolwork and Ty slept."
Abigail bit her trembling lip at the girl's shared remembrances. How could she even come close to being half the wife and mother of the woman who had born these children?
Wally darted around the side of the cabin and followed them to a wooden structure covered with wire mesh. The child opened the chicken coop door and chickens scattered and squawked when they stepped inside. Going from nest box to nest box, Jenny began retrieving eggs, sometimes reaching under an unhappy hen.
Abigail wanted to help and began pulling eggs from boxes on the opposite side.
* * *
Brant circled the Barn and stopped when he saw Jenny and Abby enter the hen house. Now was his chance to watch a city girl in action. Leaning against the siding, he picked up a long straw to chew on and wondered how their best layer hen, Prissy, would take to a stranger. He watched Jenny explain the task of gathering eggs from cranky hens and had to stifle a laugh; first, at another of Abby's ridiculous straw hats, and then at the way she'd extend her hand to reach under a hen, only to jerk it back when the hen moved. When she tried distracting the bird by wiggling her fingers on one side of it, and then quickly reaching under its body with her other hand, he almost lost it. She stepped next to Prissy and he heard Jenny say, "You best let me get Prissy's eggs."
Too late, her attempt to distract the ornery hen sent the bird flying directly at her. She squealed, stepped backwards, and fell on her backside, which sent all the hens into a tizzy. Brant ran to the coop and jerked the door open, leaned down to scoop Abby into his arms, and then backed out of the enclosure while Jenny grabbed Prissy's eggs. Still holding Abby in his arms, he busted out laughing. She had chicken poop on her cheek and her silly hat sat askew with strands of hair pulled awry from her bun.
She gave him a shocked look and said primly, "Please put me down, Mr. Samson."
He choked back another laugh and righted her. Jenny ran up beside them. "You okay, Miz Abby?"
Brant watched her blush as she tried to compose herself. She reached to right her hat and rubbed her cheek. When she felt the poop, her eyes got big and she stared at him. He grabbed his bandana from his pocket and began gently dabbing the stuff off her face. Her look of horror had him thinking she would be saying goodbye soon and he was surprised by his mixed feelings over her departure.
Unexpectedly, when he'd swiped the last of the bird dropping away, her mouth quirked and something that sounded like a chuckle escaped. Then she placed a hand over her mouth and laughed uproariously. Jenny joined her and all three of them bent over laughing. She waved her hand in the air. "I have never been in such an undignified position in my life."
Brant's eyes rested on her beautiful smile and thoughts of undignified positions had his mind going in a different direction. He clamped a vise on his thoughts. Movement shifted his gaze toward the corral to where Luke was watching them. Abruptly, his son mounted his horse and rode toward the pasture.
"Jenny, help Miz Abby while I catch up with Luke and find out what the bee up his butt is. We'll be in for breakfast soon."
Brant walked to his corralled horse and mounted. Flicking the reins, he galloped after Luke. His son's smaller horse was no match for Brant's big sorrel. When he came alongside him, he shouted for his son to pull up. After a moment's hesitation, the boy obeyed and jumped off his horse, stomping in the direction of an outcropping of boulders. Brant dismounted and followed, holding the reins of their horses.
"Are you gonna tell me what's eatin' your butt, Luke?"
"I don't want a new ma!"
Brant did his best to hold his temper. "I can appreciate that 'cause you're older than Ty and Jenny. But they need a ma. I never wanted any woman but your ma, and I don't want to marry now, but sometimes, for the sake of others, you gotta do things you don't want to. I can't work a ranch and raise Ty and Jenny on my own, son."
Luke stopped and hung his head. "I want her to leave. We've been gettin' along okay," he said with tears in his voice.
"No, son, we haven't. She may not be the one I marry, but I will marry again. I'm giving her a chance. Let's just see how things go over the next few days. Okay?"
Luke shrugged and Brant reached to cup his shoulder, but he jerked away and grabbed the reins of his horse, mounting and riding away.
Brant sighed. How could he make Luke understand?
Chapter 6: Miz Pitts
Abigail exited her bedroom after washing up and changing her clothing. She hurried to help Jenny prepare breakfast. Together they mixed biscuit dough, washed and then fried salted bacon, and whipped eggs. When everything was almost ready, Abigail heard Ty calling from behind his door. "Would you like me to get him, Jenny?"
"Sure thing, Miz Abby."
Brant and Luke entered the cabin and walked to the sink to pump water and wash up.
Abigail returned to the table carrying Ty, his smile warming her heart. Lifting him into his high chair, she hastened to the bucket of milk that had been brought in while she'd changed clothes. Ladling a tiny scoop into his tin and handing it to him, her heart expanded when he said, "Tank tu." Grasping the tin with his chubby fingers, he drank and made a milk mustache. She wiped the dribbles from his chin and he gave her another one of his adorable grins. "More, pwease," he said.
While Abigail ladled more milk, Brant sat on the bench and Luke plopped silently across from him, reading the novel he'd retrieved from the mantle. Within minutes, Jenny had scooped eggs out of the skillet and into a big bowl that she topped with bacon. Abigail set a plate of sliced tomatoes alongside the eggs.
Brant served up Ty's plate and blew on his eggs to cool them. The baby exclaimed, "Hot!"
Handing him a biscuit, Brant smiled. "Eat this until they cool down." Glancing at Luke, his smile was replaced by a stern look that sent the boy back to the fireplace to return his book to the mantle.
While they ate, Jenny rehashed the episode in the chicken coop and everyone but Luke laughed. Peeking from beneath her lashes, Abigail surveyed the homey scene and joy bubbled inside her.
A bookshelf against the back wall caught her attention and Brant noticed. "Please feel free to read any of the books that catch your fancy. Being a teacher, you've probably read most of them, though."
"Thank you." Abigail glanced at Luke and then back at Brant. "I also love to read. I brought some books with me; perhaps they'll complement your library."
After breakfast, Brant bid Abigail and Jenny goodbye again and made sure Jenny knew the area where he and Luke would be working. While Abigail helped clean the dishes, she asked the question that had been on her mind since arriving. "Do you have a bathtub?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am. My Pa bought a fancy one for Ma one Christmas. It's in Pa's room and he makes us pull it out once a week for baths."
"Only once a week?" Abigail choked.
"Course. Why would we want more'n that? Me and Ty wash up everyday at the sink and Pa and Luke splash themselves clean at the well or creek."
"When is your next scheduled bath?"
Jenny looked at Abigail like she didn't understand the question.
"Is there a certain day of the week you bathe?"
"Yes ma'am. Saturdays."
"Hmm. I wonder if your Pa would mind if I bathed tonight?"
"I
don't see why not. My Ma used to bathe a lot and Pa always said he loved scrubbing her back. I used to hear 'em laughing in the bedroom and…." Jenny paused. "Hey, you okay Miz Abby; you sure look red in the face."
For the remainder of the morning, Jenny kept up a running conversation while she worked. The responsibilities the child was shouldering staggered Abigail. She asked, "Jenny do you also wash clothes?"
"Oh, no, ma'am. Pa takes our clothes to Miz Mayberry the washer lady. He'd never let my ma wash clothes either. Said he wasn't about to let her pretty hands get rough. You got pretty hands, too, Miz Abby. Pa won't let you wash clothes, even if you've a mind to. Beside that, Miz Mayberry's a widow and washing clothes is the way she makes money. Pa says it's our duty to help her."
After their discussion about washing, Jenny led Abigail to a large garden behind the cabin and placed Ty on a blanket with some wooden toys. Together they picked tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, and other vegetables. After filling a couple of baskets, they delivered the food into the house and started washing it. A sound outside distracted them.
Jenny looked out the window. "Oh, criminy. It's Lola Pitts and her Ma and Pa. I just know they're here so's Lola can check you out. She's been wantin' my Pa to court her since forever. She went to school with Ma and Pa and she's right pretty, but Pa said she's just not right for him. I'm glad 'cause she's kinda uppity and mean to us when Pa's not around."
Abigail had no idea how to respond to Jenny's confidences. She leaned over and picked Ty up when Jenny opened the front door to their visitors' knock. Kissing his soft hair, she breathed his baby scent. A high pitched female voice said, "Well, hello, Jenny. Don't you look pretty. We came by to bring some welcoming blackberry preserves to your guest. May we come in?"
"Course, Miz Pitts. Can I get you some tea or coffee?" She stepped aside to allow the Pitts family to enter.
Abigail almost gasped at the beauty of the woman entering the room. If she were a debutante, every eligible man in Philadelphia would be courting her. Her youthful appearance suddenly made Abigail wonder just how old Brant was. He'd never said in his letters, but she'd assumed he was close to her own age because of the ages of his children.
Lola Pitts was followed by portly parents. Glancing from Lola to her parents, Abigail couldn't imagine how they'd conceived such a beautiful daughter.
Abigail extended her hand in greeting. "Hello, I'm Abigail Vaughn. It's a pleasure meeting you Mr. and Mrs. Pitts, Miss Pitts."
"Oh goodness, you must call me Lola." As the beauty spoke, she untied the bow of her bonnet and slid it off to reveal golden hair of a shade Abigail had never seen. The woman's pale blue eyes traveled up and down Abigail in a manner that made her straighten her shoulders. Obviously, Lola Pitts found her lacking.
Mrs. Pitts said, "So you're the mail order bride. News is all over town that you arrived yesterday. Can't fathom why Brant would want to marry someone he's never met, but men do strange things." She looked at her husband, "Isn't that right, dear?"
"Yes, that's right." Mr. Pitts looked uncomfortable.
Lola said, "We'll have some of that tea you offered, Jenny."
"Yes, ma'am. I made cookies yesterday, would you like one?"
"I don't think so. The last batch almost broke my tooth."
Abigail couldn't believe the woman's insensitivity and her mouth dropped. Jenny turned quickly away and rushed to gather glasses off the shelf.
Abigail set Ty in his high chair and walked to the stove to stir a pot of beans warming for lunch. Jenny returned to the table with glasses and began pouring tea and Abigail heard footsteps on the porch. Brant opened the door. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Pitts, Lola. This is a surprise."
Abigail noted that although he spoke politely, he didn't sound exactly thrilled to see them.
He continued, "We've just come in for lunch. Would you like to join us?"
Lola gushed, "Well, thank you, Brant. Yes, we'd love to join you."
Mr. and Mrs. Pitts murmured their agreement.
Abigail watched the children's faces as she set out plates and utensils. Neither Luke nor Jenny looked happy, and even Ty turned fussy.
Their guests made themselves comfortable on the benches and Miss Pitts said, "My dear Miz Vaughn, you must be suffering culture shock coming from the east. Please tell us why on earth you would want to come to this wild frontier?"
Jenny set a plate of sliced vegetables on the table and Brant lifted the pot of beans with a pot holder and ladled scoops onto everyone's plates. Miss Pitts beamed up at him with open admiration and a wave of jealousy unexpectedly hit Abigail. To cover her embarrassment, she placed a square of cornbread on Ty's plate.
Miss Pitts' shrill laughter filled the room. "Do you think Ty can eat all that cornbread?"
Abigail stared at the baby's plate. She'd added more cornbread to what was already there and now he had enough to feed a man. Pink suffused her face. "Oh, of course not." Because putting it back would be terrible etiquette, she grabbed the large cornbread and set it beside the one on her plate. Now she had enough for a man.
Brant placed the pot back on the stove and sat beside her. He said, "I wouldn't mind relieving you of that cornbread, Miz Abby."
"Yes, please, help yourself," she said gratefully.
Miss Pitts continued, "You haven't answered my question, Miz Vaughn. What do you think of our way of life? Not quite up to your accustomed standards?"
Abigail set her spoon down and her shoulder rubbed against Brant's because of Mrs. Pitts' chubby body on the other side of her. The contact started her stomach swirling with butterflies and she stuttered, "I-I." She glanced at the smirk on Luke's face and knew her answer was very important. Inhaling, she said, "In this wild frontier, as you call it, I find the countryside lovely and the inhabitants even lovelier. It's like being suddenly dropped into one of my favorite adventure novels. Perhaps you would feel the same if you moved east. Of course, after a time, you would fit in quite nicely, just as I will here."
Abigail glanced at Jenny's widened eyes and then at Luke's slightly opened mouth. She couldn't make herself look at Brant. Had she been unforgivably short with his childhood friend? She felt a slight shaking of his body. Like he was trying not to laugh.
Miss Pitts narrowed her eyes.
Mrs. Pitts broke the silence. "The MacGregors are having a barn-raising on Friday. Are you planning on attending?" She glanced from Brant to Abigail, and back to Brant.
"I surely am. Mick MacGregor helped me raise my barn. I was right sorry to hear his burned down."
The rest of the meal continued with small talk and an undercurrent of unease. Abigail was glad when the guests decided to leave. She watched Miss Pitts pull on her gloves and then place a hand on Brant's arm, giving him a look that held her heart in her eyes. "I look forward to seeing you at the barn-raising. I still remember the first time we danced when we were fourteen. Do you remember?"
Brant looked uncomfortable. "Yes, I do. That was the first time I got the courage to ask a girl to dance and the first time I danced with Molly, too. But, that was a long time ago."
"Some things can never be forgotten," Lola Pitts said sadly. The longing in her eyes made Abigail look away. Her previous irritation was replaced by sympathy for this woman who obviously pined for Brant.
Chapter 7: Barn-Raising
Brant poured the final bucket of hot water into the tub that had been moved into Abby's room. He looked at the steaming water and memories of beautiful encounters with Molly flooded him. Without a word, he swiftly stepped from her room and shut the door, feeling an almost overwhelming desire to cry like a baby. Glancing up, he saw Luke watching him, a knowing look reflected in his eyes before he quickly turned and started up the ladder to the loft, his book in tow. "Goodnight Pa," he said, without attitude.
Shocked by his son's goodnight wish, he replied softly, "Goodnight, son."
Abby entered the room from Jenny's bedroom. "They're all tucked in. I guess I'll say goodnight, too. Thank you for preparing
the bath."
A few minutes later, the sound of muffled splashing had Brant gritting his teeth. He needed to escape the cabin. Stepping into the lovely night, crickets greeted him with their cacophony and owls with their hoots. The moon hung large and bright and a soft breeze ruffled his hair. Walking toward the corral, he paused and reflected on his day.
Lola's visit had been surprising. During their last conversation a few weeks ago, he'd tried to gently make her understand that there would never be anything between them. She'd become upset and said some unkind words before begging him to reconsider. He knew she'd always had feelings for him but he'd never felt the same thing. God knows he'd tried to after Molly's death so his children would have a mother. He'd even gone so far as to kiss her with a passion he didn't feel. He might as well have kissed a fish. The thought of marrying Lola was worse than the idea of advertising for a bride.
His thoughts turned to Abby and he smiled when he remembered the chicken poop incident. She was starting to grow on him. He also liked the way she'd handled Luke; not overwhelming him, and saying just the right thing.
The fact that she was a teacher was also a plus and one of the reasons he'd selected her over the others. Unlike some of his neighbors, he was a strong believer in education. If Abby was the right mother for his children, and if he could make a profit selling his herd next year, then Ty would have the care he needed and he could hire a ranch hand. That way, Jenny and Luke could go back to school.
At one time, Luke had even talked about becoming an attorney. God knows they needed honest ones. His neighbors, the Joneses, had lost their home to the bank when they couldn't make their payments. If there'd been an upstanding lawyer in town to fight the bank's out-of-town one, maybe something could have been worked out or a loophole discovered that would have bought the family more time.
He stared at the moon. Molly, I miss you so much. What do you think about Abby? Is she the one you want mothering our children? A shooting star streaked across the sky.
