Doc didn’t answer right away. And when he did, he said, “I don’t expect to do so. But if it should happen that Jenny would prefer not to confide the subject of the discussion, I would ask you to allow her that privacy.”
Mamie tossed her head and then puffed at a lock of hair that had somehow come loose. “This day is not making a whole lot of sense. But go on, the pair of you. Jenny, you’d best be back here before evening.”
Jenny didn’t look at Doc before answering. “Yes’m. I’ll make sure of it.”
As they stepped into the street, Doc asked, kind of quiet, “Is it true that Tom has asked you to marry him?”
“Um, not exactly asked. He just talked about it. But I told him I couldn’t possibly marry him and live in this town with everyone knowing about me.” She hated having to say it again. Things sounded so hopeless, said out loud.
“I’d like you to join me in a daydream, if you will. If you knew that no one in town would treat you rudely or criticize you because of your past — if you can imagine such a thing — would you want to marry Tom?”
She’d hardly thought about it, given how things really were. Just once or twice, she’d let herself think if only I could. She’d stopped because of how much it hurt. “Doc Gibbs, you’ve always been kind to me. Please don’t say things like that.”
He twitched his hand like he would’ve liked to take hers but didn’t think it was a good idea. “It’s important, Jenny. Please try to answer.”
Jenny bit her lip and tried to do what Doc wanted. To imagine waking up in a Cowbird Creek made magically different, where she had as much right to get married as ever Clara Brook or Dolly Arden had. Would she marry Tom then, if he wanted?
She thought about the way he’d looked at her when they first met, like she was the best present he’d ever got. And the things he’d said when she helped him with his missing leg itching. And how it tasted to kiss him. And how happy he always looked to see her. And how happy it made her to see him. And how he hadn’t let losing a leg stop him from living — at least not since they’d met.
He’d called her a lady. And sweet. And he’d listened to her talk — even paid to talk to her. And he’d made her those beautiful pictures. And he’d apologized when he hurt her feelings.
And he’d showed up for Amanda Jane’s funeral no matter what folk said or what it cost him. And talked back to the preacher, even, defending Mamie’s girls. Defending her.
And how she’d love to have a baby of her own, some day, some way.
Here they’d almost got to Doc’s house, and she hadn’t hardly said a word, nor answered his question that he said was important, though she couldn’t see how. She’d spit it out, and then not think about it no more. She said, her heart pounding, “I guess I’d want to marry Tom if I could, if things was different like you say. I’m — I’m awful fond of him, if you want to know. A woman’d be lucky to marry a man such as him.”
Doc got this big happy smile on him. “In that case, come on in and have some of my friend Freida’s blackberry pie, and listen to the plan that Tom and Clara and my guests have come up with. It may surprise you. But I hope the surprise is a good one.”
They weren’t even at the house yet when Tom came out on the front step, looking down the street. His eyes lit up the second he saw them, even while he looked nervous, like someone was giving him a peek at Paradise and he didn’t know if he’d make it inside. He came down the steps a little too fast, tripping and having to catch the rail to keep from falling, and it didn’t even faze him. He met them in the street and grabbed both Jenny’s hands. “It’s going to happen, Jenny. We can be together. And we can both get out of this town. There’s a way.”
When they’d sat Jenny down and explained, and she’d listened to it all, and asked all the questions she could think of and got answers to just about every one, Tom pulled her out of her chair and took her hands again. She could tell he’d have got on one knee if it wasn’t so hard for him. Instead, he gripped her hands almost tight enough to hurt, and said, “Please, Jenny. Please marry me and come away with me. It’s all I want. Please want it too.”
She felt like she could just about float off the floor, if it weren’t for Tom holding her hands. But she’d rather he kept holding them, all the same. She could hardly talk for how big she was smiling, but she managed to say, “I will, Tom. I’ll marry you, and come away with you, and travel wherever we need to.”
Tom looked over his shoulder for just a minute, and then pulled her close, her hands still in his, and kissed her, soft and sweet. She started when she heard people clapping — she’d almost forgot where they were, and who else was. She let go of one of Tom’s hands so’s she could turn and look at the others, all happy, happy for her and Tom.
And then, Mrs. Freida made her sit back down and have some pie, with custard.
She and Tom walked back to Mamie’s holding hands again, Doc trailing a few steps behind. And when Mamie came to the door, ready to scold over how long she’d been, the three of them explained it together.
When they’d run down, Mamie just stood and looked at them for the longest time. Finally, she stuck out her hand toward Tom. “This might be the strangest thing I’ve heard in a while, and I hear plenty. But I’d be worrying more if it were any young man but you, Mr. Barlow. You’re a good man. And you’re getting a girl with the makings of a good woman.”
Tom shook her hand, let go, and pulled Jenny to him, holding her tight against his side. Mamie turned to Doc. “Joshua, this isn’t the first time you’ve surprised me, and it probably won’t be the last. Now you and Mr. Barlow had better be going.”
Doc tipped his hat to Mamie and looked at Tom. But Tom kept hold of Jenny a little longer. He looked like he was fixing to say something and didn’t know just how. Jenny pulled to get loose before Mamie could lose patience, and maybe think better of the whole idea. Tom let her go, swallowed, and said to Mamie, “Ma’am, I don’t know what you’re thinking about these next days, but I’m asking you to let Jenny stay here without — without earning her keep in the way she has been. Just until I can do a few things that need doing before we can marry and leave town.”
Mamie sniffed. “Well, we’ll work something out. Now off you go. Jenny, take a moment to say goodbye to your — intended, and then come to my office.” She nodded to the men and swished away.
Doc cleared his throat. “I’ll be just outside. Please don’t be long, Tom.” He headed out the door, humming a cheerful little tune.
Tom pulled Jenny into a long, warm hug, saying real low, “I can’t believe it. I’m really going to have you as my wife.”
She pulled back to look in his face. “Oh, I sure hope you won’t be sorry. I’ll work hard as I can to be everything you need me to be.”
He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her. When he pulled away, he said, “You are everything I need you to be. And I’ll work as hard as I can to give you everything you need.”
It was time he left, and she didn’t even know when or how she’d be seeing him next. But somehow, they’d make sure it was soon.
When Jenny made it up to Mamie’s office, Mamie was sitting up straight and looking her most businesslike. “While you’ve been seeing your young man out, I’ve been thinking. You’ll need to stay out of the customers’ way, to avoid any misunderstandings. And I won’t have you lying about idle. You’re going to use this time to prepare for what you’re undertaking. When you leave here, go to the kitchen and get the mending basket. You’ll need practice at sewing and darning, and you can start with that. Tomorrow, you’ll help Cook with the meals. Who knows, maybe she can even tell you something about cooking over campfires.”
Jenny bowed her head. “Thank you, ma’am. For letting me stay, and letting me use the time to learn something.” She almost stopped there, but there was more to say. “And thank you for letting me go.”
Mamie just looked at her and shook her head. “I hope you’ll have cause to thank me down the road, and not wish I
’d done different. You know you don’t have much idea of what you’re getting into? What sort of hardships you’ll face?”
There wasn’t a lot of room in her for worrying about that, but she owed Mamie some sort of answer. “You’re right, ma’am. That’s how it’s been for me since I left home. And so far, I’ve made it through the hard times, and mostly on my own. Not to say you didn’t help me when I needed it! But being with Tom, that’s a whole new kind of not being alone, and I can’t help being happy about it.”
Mamie waited to make sure Jenny was through and stood up, pointing to the door. “Very well then. You’d best go fetch that basket and get started.”
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t go crawling to Mama no more, after never getting answers to the letters she’d sent. But now she had something better to tell. And if Mama still cared about her even a little, she’d want to know it.
This time, she didn’t put just Mama’s name on the letter, but all her sisters’ and even her brother’s. And thought of adding Papa’s, in case it’d make him more likely to let Mama have the letter, but it’d maybe make him throw it in the fire instead.
Dear Family,
I hope you are all well. I haven’t heard nothing back from my letters, and hope you don’t mind my writing again, as I have some real good news.
I bet you gave up on me finding a husband, or at least one you’d be glad I found, but I think I done it. His name is Tom Barlow, so I’ll be Jenny Barlow.
That thought fair made her head swim.
He grew up on a farm, and now he makes pictures on saddles and boots and such. People like his pictures real well.
She’d left out the most important part.
Tom is a real nice fellow and treats me good.
I’m happier than I’ve been in such a long time, and I wanted you to know. I hope you’ll be happy for me. And I hope you’ll write back and tell me how you all are.
I hope you can meet Tom somehow.
If that ever looked to happen, she and Tom could figure out what tale to tell about how they met. And that’d be soon enough for her to tell them about Tom’s leg.
Or was it? It wasn’t like she was ashamed of him for having just one. And maybe he wouldn’t know she was hiding the truth, but she would.
And if they thought that was the only reason he’d settle for someone like Jenny, well, they could go ahead and think it. She knew different.
He lost his leg last year when a plowshare fell on it, but he gets around real good on his wooden leg. And he’s real strong.
She let herself spend a minute thinking about just how good it felt to have those strong arms around her. She could think on that some more — and on what else felt good, and would feel even better when it was just for the two of them — as soon as she got this letter finished.
Well, that’s all I got to say just now. You all take care.
Every time she ended a letter after not getting one back, the words got harder to say. But she’d say them anyhow, one more time.
Love, your Jenny
Chapter 25
Tom came home whistling as the sun headed down, birds in the fields and by the creek doing it better. Pa was leaning on a fence smoking his Sunday pipe. He gave Tom a quizzical look. “You’ve been a long time over dinner, and come back pretty chipper. Anything we should talk about?”
Pa was most as good as Ma at reading a fellow’s mind. Tom couldn’t grin and whistle at the same time, but now it was time for grinning. “I’m going to marry Jenny!”
Pa’s eyebrows shot up. Before he could start asking and warning and lecturing, Tom told him the rest. “We’re going to leave town and head south! It’ll be a new start for both of us.”
Pa took out his pipe and turned it this way and that as if learning it by heart. “Well, if you’re going to take such a step as marrying her, that’s what you’ll need. What do you have in mind?”
Tom explained the plans, including Mr. Jed’s leather worker as a place to go if they had to. Pa listened, letting his pipe go out. When Tom ran down, Pa lighted the pipe again, got it going, and said, kind of casual, “How do you figure on carrying your belongings?”
Tom had been pushing that to the back of his mind so it wouldn’t spoil his mood. But Pa had to know more about buying wagons than he did. And about borrowing money, if there was any way to borrow it without already having plenty of it, or plenty of things already bought with it. “I’m hoping you can help me figure that out. I’m afeared to think on how long it’ll take me to save up for a wagon, even if Finch keeps me on and I get enough side work to fill up every minute left over. But I’m not sure what else to do.”
Pa puffed on his pipe. “Well, now, I could talk to Mr. Stewart, couple of miles from here. He’s got an old broken-down wagon in his barn, from when his pa came west. They had a hard journey, almost didn’t make it, and the wagon barely did. But Stewart and I, and maybe a few other neighbors, could get together and fix that wagon up to where you could use it.”
It took some trouble for Tom to swallow the lump in his throat. “I’d — Jenny and I would — take that as right kind of you. And Mr. Stewart and the others. If they’re willing.”
Pa must’ve finished his pipeful — he took the pipe out of his mouth again, shook it out, and put it in his pocket. “I’ll talk to ‘em. Though it’d take some time to fix up that wagon to where you could count on it not to break down and leave you stuck in the middle of nowhere. You’d still have to bide a while.”
“That’s all right,” Tom said, though it might or might not be, depending. “We’ve both got things to do before we can head out. For one, I’ve got to scrape up a saddle and do some decorating.”
Pa scratched his head. “Well, that might not need much scraping. Your ma doesn’t do much riding these days, but she used to, as a girl. And not side saddle, neither. If all you need is a saddle to show your work on, would that do? Mind, it’d need cleaning up.”
“Can I see it?”
Pa answered by leading the way into the barn. In a corner full of rusty tools and mouse-eaten blankets, Pa dug through the rubbish and pulled out a worn dirty saddle. To Tom’s relief, it didn’t look that different from a regular saddle, only on the small side, and not all that small — which made sense, as Ma was a big woman now and might’ve been even back then.
Pa handed the saddle to Tom and Tom turned it every way, checking it over. He opened his mouth to thank Pa before he realized he was skipping a step. “Reckon I’d better ask Ma if she minds parting with it.”
Pa smiled a little. “Yup, reckon you had.”
Ma was hemming an apron at the kitchen table when Tom carried the saddle in. She dropped it and stood up. “I declare, is that my old saddle you’ve got? Pa must’ve found it, but whatever for?”
He’d forgot for a minute that he’d have to explain his plans all over again. And he knew what piece was going to be hardest to tell. Sure enough, Ma just tightened up her lips when he said he was marrying Jenny. But when he got to the part about leaving town, she gasped and went a little pale. “Oh, Tom! Leaving? For good and all?”
He put an arm around her. “Ma, we’ve got to go. You know how it’d be for both of us if we stayed here. And even if I was willing to give up Jenny — which I ain’t — it drives me wild working for Finch, and having to hide what I’m doing for cowboys, all because Finch don’t give a hoot for how things look and won’t admit others might.”
Ma picked up the edge of the apron she had on and wiped her eyes. She just stood there up close to him, shaking her head, for about a minute. Then she said, her voice shaky, “I can’t rightly speak agin it, not after your pa and me left our own folks when I was little older’n you, to come out west looking for a better life. It’s what folks do in this country, isn’t it, sooner or later, grandsons if not sons. They go looking for what’s better.”
Tom held her closer as she choked out, “And I should be glad for you, that you’ve found a way to do it, with all that cou
ld’ve stopped you. I don’t know as I can be, just yet.” She pulled away to face him and took his face in her hands. “But I am awful proud of you that you’ve done it, Tom.”
Tom closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her hands, smelling the smell that was Ma and no one else, a mix of flour and soap and her own self. He hadn’t thought until right now that once he left town, it might be months, and more likely years, before he smelled it again.
Tom spent what was left of Sunday cleaning the saddle, getting it ready to work on, and stewing over what to tell Finch in the morning. He couldn’t afford the satisfaction of marching in and quitting. He and Jenny would need every dollar he could scrape up. Not that he’d necessarily have a choice — Finch might fire him the second he heard about Jenny, or Tom leaving town, or both.
Finch hadn’t had the best of Sundays, it seemed. The minute Tom walked in, Finch started bending his ear about how he’d lost his pocket knife and his dog had puked on his favorite chair. Tom hadn’t known Finch even had a dog. If he’d been Finch’s dog, he’d probably have puked a lot sooner.
When Finch finally ran down, Tom grabbed his chance before Finch could set him to work. “Mr. Finch, I’ve got something I need to tell you.”
By now he was getting used to summing it up — and while Finch was the furthest from a friend to hear it, he was also the fellow he cared least about pleasing, aside from practicalities. Finch’s eyebrows got lower and lower, and seemed to get hairier even, as he listened. When Tom had finished, he growled, “So you mean to tell me you aren’t satisfied working here, for all I gave you a job when few others would’ve?”
Tom waited to answer until he could govern his tongue. “All things considered, Mr. Finch, including what it’d be like for Jenny and me if we was to stay, I don’t think it could work my staying.”
What Frees the Heart Page 18
