Robin

by Julane Hiebert

  Until then, I remain

  Sincerely, William Arthur Benson, III

  Robin closed her eyes and lay back against her pillow. William was coming to Kansas? One month. Could one month accomplish what twenty-two years failed to do? William, her forever friend and protector, now desired her to consider becoming his wife? Never once, even with his proposal, did he mention loving her. Oh, he brought her punch and sat sipping on the sidelines with her while they watched their friends dip and twirl the night away. And one year, at the school’s annual ice-skating event at Manning’s pond, he pretended to have a sprained ankle so she needn’t huddle around the fire alone. Yet, he never mentioned love.

  Daily, Papa had loudly proclaimed his affection for Mama. She would blush and fuss—Lionel Wenghold, the neighbors will think you a madman.And his reply remained the same until the day Mama died—Ah, my dear Margaret, without question I am mad. Madly in love with the loveliest girl to ever grace the streets of Chicago.Then he would pull Mama to her feet, tell her he loved her more that day than yesterday and kiss her soundly on the mouth, against her protests that it was indecent behavior in the presence of their impressionable daughters. Robin and Wren had eagerly awaited this evening ritual, but Lark would push her glasses higher on her nose, turn away, and scold the sisters for giggling.

  Robin stuffed the letter back into the envelope and slipped it under the picture of the Wenghold sisters on the table by her bedside. She blew out her lamp, padded in her bare feet, and knelt by the open window. A soft, warm breeze billowed the lace curtains. She pushed them behind her shoulders to gaze across the prairie unhindered. If God answered prayer, this would be the time to ask Him for guidance. But she’d not bother Him.

  She propped her elbows on the sill and cupped her chin in her hands. The moon gleamed full and bright across the grass. How far could one see on such a night? Forever, it seemed. As her eyes adjusted to the distance, a lone rider emerged from the shadows beyond the barn. Thankful for the darkness of her room, she watched until the silhouette melted into the night. Then she scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding as she grabbed her wrapper. She’d not told Uncle John about the dog. She must tell him about the stranger.

  Robin trailed one hand along the wall while descending the stairs. In Chicago she knew the number of steps and could navigate them even in the dark, but she’d not yet mastered it here.

  “Robin?” Uncle John’s voice drifted through the open door. “Don’t light a lamp. I’m on the porch leanin’ against the wall if you care to join me, but I’m not hankerin’ to be seen right now.”

  She stepped onto the porch and made sure the door didn’t slam behind her. “Then you’re aware—?”

  “Yeah, was watchin’ him. Didn’t do much but sit.”

  “Did you recognize him?” Robin strained to read her uncle’s face in the dim light. Most of the time, his eyes spoke volumes more than his words.

  “It weren’t Ty, that’s for sure.”

  “Could it be the stranger he had with him last night?”

  Her uncle shrugged “Don’t know. Haven’t seed that man enough to tell from afar. Funny thing how you get used to the way a fella sits a horse and can tell, even from a distance, if it’s a body ya know.” He led her to the swing. “Here, sit a spell. Been doin’ me some more thinkin.”

  Robin moaned. “Uncle John, I don’t much like it when you think.”

  He chuckled. “I been thinkin’ on how I don’t want you strayin’ too far away from the house. I know I told ya I wanted help out and about, but—well, seein’ as how this fella come a snoopin’ around here tonight, and we still don’t know nothin’ for sure about Jacob’s pa, I think it best you stick close.”

  “Couldn’t we work together? You said your mama helped your papa every day. Did he stay with her all the time?” Robin put her foot down to keep the swing from swaying.

  “My pa wouldn’t allow her to work out on the prairie all by herself. No sirree, she stayed within his look-see most all the time. Me and your pa right there, too.”

  “Then why can’t we make it work like that? In Chicago, we three sisters divided chores. I know I have a lot to learn, but you can teach me. I’m a quick learner. And I’m stronger than you think, Uncle John. I limp, but I can work hard. And Jacob isn’t too young to have chores.”

  “You’d be willing to do that, girly? I think it only fair ya know I ain’t completely given up on the hope of findin’ ya a husband. Don’t know how I’m gonna work it—being as how you won’t let me mail out that notice—but I’m most certain gonna try.”

  “There’s something you need to know.” She studied her hands. “I received two letters when I picked up the mail today. One from my sisters, and the other one from William Benson.”

  “TheWilliam Benson what wanted you to marry him before you came here?” John frowned. “And what did the young man have to say? Did he want you to hightail it back to the big city?”

  “No, William plans to come here. He wants to court me.”

  John jumped to his feet, and the swing flung in a crazy swaying motion. Robin’s head thumped against the wooden slats.

  “He’s coming here? To the Feather? And when is this blessed event going to take place?”

  Robin rubbed her head and put her foot down to stop the swing and settle her queasy stomach. “He says he’ll arrive in Cedar Bluff on July 1. He plans to stay one month and hopes I will agree to return to Chicago with him at the end of that time.” Thank goodness she couldn’t see her uncle’s eyes. No doubt they were shooting fire.

  John punched at the porch post. “Well, now, isn’t this a fine feather on granny’s bonnet? And what are we supposed to do with a tenderfoot from Chicago for a whole month, I’d like to know.”

  Robin went to her uncle. “I’m a tenderfoot from Chicago, Uncle John. You have two weeks to break me in before the next one comes.” She giggled and squeezed his arm. “And before you get any silly notions, I have no intention of making a snap decision. There’s too much at stake—my sisters, Jacob, and—”

  “And what, girly?” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Are you terrible disappointed that Blair woman came when she did?”

  “I was thinking of you, Uncle John. As silly as it sounds, and as crazy as I think you are, I rather like it here. And I don’t know what William will think of Jacob. There’s so much more to consider than merely agreeing to become Mrs. William Arthur Benson the Third.”

  John turned her shoulders toward the door. “You’ll have to admit—that’s an impressive mouthful. What say we go in and finish this discussion over a glass of warm milk.”

  Robin wrinkled her nose. “Cold buttermilk sounds better to me. I think there’s still some hanging in the well.”

  “You go on in, I’ll fetch it. Never could pass me up a good cold glass of buttermilk.”

  “What if that man is still out in the shadows somewhere?”

  He stepped off the porch, silhouetted by moonlight, and cocked his head. “Hear them night birds a chirpin’? And them coyotes a barkin’? Them’s all signs there ain’t nobody around. Ya gotta learn to listen, so when it’s too dark to see ya still know what’s goin’ on. God made them creatures a whole lot smarter than He made most men. Take my word for it.”

  Robin clenched her hands. This morning she’d planned to leave, and tonight she longed to stay? Not that she wanted him to find her a husband. But Uncle John reminded her of Pa. And she loved her pa.

  “Uncle John, there’s something else I should tell you.”

  “Land’s sake, girl. You’re gettin’ downright chatty. What is it now?”

  “I stopped at the grave of Jacob’s mama today on the way home. While I was there, a dog came. He wasn’t wild or anything, but I . . . had a strange feeling someone was watching me.”

  “You didn’t see nobody?”

  “No. I didn’t wait around though. I didn’t want to say anything before, but now since that man was out there . . .”

 
“Don’t know as the two is addin’ up to more than one, but I don’t want you a goin’ off by yourself again. You need somethin’ from town, I’ll go with you. Ain’t gonna leave you here alone, neither. Now, let’s have us that there cold drink before we say our good nights.”

  ###

  John whistled as he made his way to the well. So the banker’s son was thinkin’ he could ride in here and court Robin away. Proud fella, wasn’t he? One month wasn’t a lot of time to come up with a plan, but he was sure gonna try. It helped to know Robin didn’t want to leave. It would give him a whole lot more comfort if Miss Blair would leave. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if the boyhaddrawn his picture on the back of that notice. Might make the preacher quit straddlin’ the fence.

  A dribble fell from the bucket he’d pulled from the well and plinked in the water below. He frowned. Funny how one little drip of water would be loud enough for him to hear it plink. It was quiet as a church. Had he let his guard down too soon?

  Something hit his leg hard, and he jumped.

  “John, it’s me . . . Ty.”

  He dipped his shoulder toward the direction of Ty’s voice.

  “No, don’t let on I’m here.” Ty kept his voice low. “Keep pulling on the rope and listen.”

  John rubbed the spot on his shin. “What’d ya pitch at me, a boulder?”

  “I’ve been following a fella but lost him somewhere not far from here. Have you seen anything or anyone?”

  “You lost him? You gettin’ old, Ty? There was a time you could’ve tracked dirt in a dust storm.”

  “Crazy horse spooked.”

  “Throw ya, did he?” John chuckled and busied himself with the bucket emerging from the well.

  “No, he didn’t throw me, but I had to run him in circles to settle him down. You didn’t answer my question. Did you see anyone?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. So did Robin. Fella sat out by the barn for a spell then sorta disappeared into the shadows. Didn’t seem to be in any hurry, or mind that he might be seen. First thing came to my mind was this Sam guy. Don’t it seem funny we’d have two strangers hangin’ around all of a sudden?” He lowered the bucket.

  “I know it looks suspicious, but as it turns out Sam and Rusty worked together down on the Queen ranch in Texas. They’re good friends. Sam isn’t the guy who rode in the night of the storm.”

  “That don’t say he couldn’t still be a snoopin’ around. Men change, Ty. And not always for the good. You know that.”

  “Rusty would bank his life on the man, and I’d bank mine on Rusty. As a matter of fact, Sam put me onto the intruder. I was headin’ out to check on a horse that got snake bit, and Sam had been watching the guy for a while. Said about the same thing as you—didn’t seem real intent on hiding, yet didn’t come riding in, either. I don’t like it. Don’t like it at all.”

  “Seems if he’s up to no good he’d stay in the shadows more. Maybe he don’t know no better. Notice anything strange at all about him?” He brought the bucket up again.

  “Just the horse. It seems bigger than any of our cow ponies. Looks more like something you might hitch to a wagon, not put a saddle on. Another good reason for me to know it wasn’t Sam.”

  “Well, if he’s still watchin’, he’s gonna wonder why I’m a yammerin’ to myself while I’m a crankin’ this bucket up and down this here well. I’m gonna go on back to the house like nothin’s wrong. You see somethin’ more, might as well come a knockin’. No need for us to be hidin’. We ain’t the ones sneakin’ around.” He turned to leave.

  “Wait, John.” A slight rustling came from where Ty hid. “Uh, you know that paper Jacob gave me this morning?”

  John groaned. “Now, before you go—”

  “Would you tell Jacob I liked the picture?”

  John breathed a sigh of relief he couldn’t see Ty’s face.Sure as granny has a cat that young man done laid his eyes on the notice I writ and ain’t gonna say nary a word about it. He’d rather watch this old man squirm.

  “Reckon you should be a tellin’ the boy yourself, Ty. But suppose I could mention it. Now, if you’re done flappin’ your gums, I best get this buttermilk in the house before it gets warm. Robin done turned up her nose at warm milk.”

  He hunched his shoulders against Ty’s laughter followin’ all the way to the house.By sugar, you wait ‘til after July 1, young man. We’ll see if you’re still a snickerin’ then.

  THIRTEEN

  Robin turned sideways and lifted her leg onto the bed. Is this how men got dressed every morning? She should’ve put her stockings on first. The heavy fabric of the new britches didn’t want to bend, and by the time she encased both feet in her shiny new boots she panted with the effort. Emma told her it would be awkward at first. How she knew, Robin didn’t ask.

  She stood in front of the mirror and clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from squealing. Mama would have rolled her eyes and ordered her to go change at once. Wren would want a matching wardrobe, and poor Lark would probably take to her boudoir in humiliation. From a distance she supposed people could mistake her for Uncle John. Maybe she should rethink wearing men’s clothing, but her uncle said he needed outside help and her feet tangled too easily in a dress.

  She bent at the waist and let her hair fall forward, then twisted it into a rope before coiling it on top of her head. It took more pins than usual to hold. But Emma said if she wound it tight, then pulled her hat down snugly over it, most likely it would stay in place even in a strong wind. One last turn in front of the looking glass made her blush. It didn’t seem decent to look at herself packed into such snug quarters. She picked up her hat, slapped the side of her leg with it, and willed her stiff-legged britches to bend on her way down the stairs.

  Robin stood on bottom step and sucked a breath, then exhaled with a whoosh. Dirty dishes sat on the table. Both ends of a loaf of bread appeared to be chewed off, and crumbs littered the floor. Broken eggshells adorned the top of the stove, along with a big iron skillet that held the remains of what appeared to be scrambled eggs.

  She gritted her teeth so hard her jaws hurt. If Uncle John insisted he could very well take care of the inside chores, then so be it. He could start this morning, as far as she was concerned. She plunked the hat on her head, tightened the strings under her chin, slammed the door behind her, and stomped to the barn.

  She squeezed through the partially open door, and a clump of straw hit her face then slid to adorn the front of her shirt.

  “Jacob?”

  Another pile landed at her feet.

  “Jacob, stop—or at least watch where you’re throwing that stuff.”

  “Uncle John said I should scrunch my eyes when I pitch it so the loose stuff don’t paste ‘em shut.” A forkful of debris flew past her ear.

  Robin grabbed the pitchfork. “Stop. Where’s Uncle John?”

  Jacob wiped his hands on his pant legs. “He’s out behind the barn doing this—” He bent forward, hands behind his back and his face close to the floor. “He says he’s trackin’. I’m supposed to tell you to get a fork and help me.” He pointed over his shoulder. “There’s one hanging on the––”

  The boy’s eyes widened, and he put his hands over his mouth. Giggles tumbled around his fingers. “Robin! You look like a boy.” He turned and ran out the door. “Uncle John! Uncle John, come look at Robin. She looks like you.”

  Robin stood against the wall and waited for the inevitable. Might as well get it over with so they could get on with the day.

  “What do you mean she looks like me?”

  Jacob dragged the older man into the barn by his hand. “See?” He pointed.

  A scowl buried itself deep in John’s forehead. “Now if that don’t send granny’s cat up the wall. What do you think you’re a doin’, girly? I never seed anything so . . . so wrong in all my born days.”

  She moved away from the wall and squared her shoulders. “Did you expect me to clean up this stuff in a dress, Uncle John?�
�

  “My ma did. She’d a never let another soul look on her dressed like a man. No, siree. You ain’t gonna look like that around here.” He shook his finger in her face. “Now, you git right back in that there house and put you on some woman clothes.”

  Robin crossed her arms. “You don’t seem to understand. I’m the new around-the-place help you need. And it doesn’t matter what name you put on this . . . thisjob you want done. I’m not doing it in a dress. Nor will I pick up rocks or go huntin’ for little baby cows in woman clothes. I thought you agreed I could help.”

  “Calves,” John mumbled. “And I never agreed to you lookin’ like a man.”

  “What?”

  “They’s called calves, not baby cows. And the job, if you want to know, is called cleaning out the barn. And you can do it just as well in lady’s clothes.”

  “That’s not what you told me, Uncle John.” Jacob mimicked John’s stance—hands on hips, legs apart. “You told me we was gonna muck out horse—”

  John slipped his hand over the boy’s mouth. “That’s enough outta you, son.”

  Robin planted her hands on her hips. “What difference does it make?”

  John’s frown deepened and one eyebrow shot up to his hairline. “What difference does what make?

  “What I call a baby cow.”

  “Cuz they’re not baby cows, they’s calves. Besides, it makes you sound like one of them city fellas. That’s the difference.”

  “Iam a city fella—or rather, a city girl. That’s what makes this whole thing so ridiculous.”

  “What whole thing? And nobody could tell you was a girl––city or otherwise––by lookin’.”

  “Ohh.” She stomped her foot. “I know I have a lot to learn. And I agree I look ridiculous in this getup. I feel that way, too. But you need a hired man and that’s what you’re getting. Now, if you don’t mind”––she wielded the pitchfork—“I have some stuff to put in a pile somewhere.”

  John grabbed the fork from her. “No, ma’am. Not ‘til you go back in that house, like I told ya, and put on somethin’ what makes you not look so much like . . . like me. Ya hear? I ain’t about to have somebody come drivin’ onto this here yard and be a squintin’ their eyeballs tryin’ to decide if you’re a man or a woman. Hard tellin’ what could happen.”