by Marsha Ward
Heppie gave a little shrug. “I’m goin’ with you. Hannah needs nursing, and I can do that.”
“Heppie,” George said, disappointment strong in his voice.
She looked at Hannah, then back to George. “Hannah needs me more,” she said, her voice cracking.
Jessie knew that was not an easy thing for her sister to say. Heppie whispered to her each night before they fell asleep about her growing affection for George Heizer. Leaving him behind was no trifling act on Heppie’s part. But what else could they do?
“Ma,” Jessie said. “I’m goin’ too. There’s been nothing here for me since …” She stopped herself, unwilling to say it out loud. The wound of James Owen’s leaving her to go west with his family was still raw, even if it had been almost a year ago. “What about you and Luke?”
Ma clasped her hands together. Jessie saw her knuckles turn white with the pressure. Her shoulders hunched together. At last she sighed and let them relax. “Lucas, cut your pa’s picture from the frame. We’re going to New Mexico.”
~~~
Heppie sat with George on the floor of the darkened bakery, her knees drawn up to her chin. The others were still packing, but he had insisted they take a little break and talk one more time.
George lifted her hand and stroked it. “Stay here with me, Heppie,” he whispered. “We’ll get married and you can help me run the farm. I’ll keep you safe from the Yankees.”
Tears ran down Heppie’s cheeks as she blinked her eyes. What should she do? Hannah needed her so desperately. Besides, she was Hannah’s twin. Hannah’s marriage had caused the greatest parting they’d ever experienced, but they still managed to see each other almost every day. George was complicating her life with his plea. If she married him and stayed here, she’d never see Hannah or her family again.
“My family needs me. I want to be with them. They love me.” She swiped at the tears.
“I love you, Heppie. I’ve loved you for years.”
She shook her head and took her hand away from George’s fingers. “You never said that before. You talked of us marrying but never declared yourself to love me. Maybe that’s why I didn’t give you an answer.” Her words trailed off into the void between them.
George hung his head. “That was wrong of me. I meant not to pressure you.” He looked up at her, his blue eyes pleading. “Heppie, don’t go off and leave me alone.”
“You won’t be alone for long. You said your brother’s comin’ home. You said that’s why you can’t leave.” Her voice sounded flat, expressionless, devoid of hope.
“Heppie, please. He’s still not recovered. How can I up and take off when he expects me to welcome him home? And the cows. I wouldn’t do them a service to leave ‘em without someone to take care of them.”
Heppie waited for a long time before she spoke in a terse voice. “I need to be with my family. You need to take care of your brother and your cows. I reckon that puts us on different paths, Mr. Heizer.”
“Heppie, don’t say that.”
She struggled to her feet, and he also arose. “Good-bye, George,” she managed to say, and walked back into the kitchen.
###
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Bonus from the forthcoming Book 4: Spinster's Folly
Chapter One
Marie Owen pressed forward through the crowd that surrounded her brother Carl and his new bride, Ellen Bates. She pushed her way across the patch of trampled grass in the Colorado meadow, trying to get closer to the bridal pair. Ma was hugging on Ellen while Mrs. Bates dabbed at her eyes. Mr. Bates stood alongside them, looking stern.
Someone leaving the site of the makeshift altar in a great hurry bumped Marie's shoulder hard, and a flailing hand knocked her bonnet askew. She cried out, “Have a care!” as she turned to see who had been so heedless, then shook her head as she realized it was only her next older brother, James, fleeing from Carl's triumphant grin.
“You behave, James,” she muttered, loosening the strings beneath her chin so she could straighten her headgear. When she was satisfied that it was once again firmly in place, she returned to her purpose of reaching Ellen.
Her youngest brother, Albert, was her last obstacle. He had wormed his way to the front of the crowd, and was enthusiastically engaged in kissing Ellen's cheek. Marie elbowed the youth aside, reached her friend, and threw her arms around her.
“Lawsy,” Marie whispered in Ellen's ear as she hugged her tight. “I thought this day would never come for you. Now you're my sister, Mrs. Carl Owen!”
Ellen pushed back from the embrace slightly, her green eyes shining like dewdrops above her freckled cheeks. “It was so sudden. I didn't figure Pa would bring the priest with him.” Her voice quivered. “Who would have thought . . .” She scanned the meadow, craning her neck back and forth. “Where is James?”
Marie squeezed Ellen's arm. “Now don't you fret about him on your weddin' day. He'll get over a little disappointment.”
“I want to tell him I am sorry.”
“Don't you bother. He's been acting like such a ninny. It was plain as the nose on your face that you loved Carl and not him.”
Ellen ducked her head, but when she raised it a moment later, her radiant smile spoke of her happiness.
Marie couldn't help kissing her cheek. “I'm thrilled for you,” she murmured, and gave Ellen another hug.
“I cannot believe this happened so fast,” Ellen whispered. She took a deep breath, then turned to look at the new husband, who was sitting himself down on a chair, his face white.
Ellen's smiled disappeared, and she turned back to Marie as people shoved against them. “Carl's bleedin'. I have to get him back to the cabin.” She gripped Marie's shoulder. “You'll be next to marry,” she said in a rush. “I see the way Bill Henry looks at you.”
“What?” Marie protested, but Ellen had slipped away, entreating Rulon and Clay Owen to haul up the chair and carry Carl to the house.
Marie stood rooted in place by her friend's astonishing words, and watched a crimson stain spread across the hip of Carl's trousers. A shiver of fear coursed down her spine. Carl had been wounded in a shootout with kidnappers. Would he bleed to death because he got out of bed to marry Ellen? No! Surely not. Ellen was as good a nurse as anyone hereabouts. She would take ample care of Carl and pull him through this bad spell.
“James!” Ma's sharp call cut through the babble of voices.
Marie turned to see what had alarmed her mother, and saw James loping into the forest. She breathed out in exasperation. He had been so temperamental lately, stumping around like a bear with a hangnail.
“Rod, go see—”
Marie went to her mother's side. “He's fine, Ma. Give him a fortnight to clear his mind, and he'll be the light of your eyes again.”
Ma grasped Marie's wrist without looking at her. She spoke low. “Daughter, he's not fine. Make your pa go after him.” She glanced down at her clenched hand, opened it, and let Marie go free. “Tell your pa—”
“James is man-grown, Ma.”
Her mother seemed not to hear her. “Good, Rod is going.” She called out, “Bring him back,” sighed, gave herself a shake, then turned her attention to the departing newlyweds.
Marie shrugged her shoulders and followed her mother's gaze. Ellen walked beside Carl, fussing a little, patting his hand. His brothers carried his chair toward the little log house Carl had built with his own hands to receive his bride. No matter that his wife wasn't the one Pa had intended for him. It seemed such an age since Pa had connived to arrange marriages for two of his sons before they'd all fled the ruins of the Shenandoah Valley, and headed out for Colorado Territory. Carl's betrothed, Ida Hilbrands, was long gone.
“Good riddance,” Marie said aloud.
“Good riddance to what?” a young female voice said behind her.
Marie jumped and whirled to face her sister. “Julianna! Don't creep up on me like
that. It's not ladylike.”
“What do you know about being a lady? More like a spinster, if you ask me.”
“Spinster? Don't you call me names!”
“I will if I want to. You're gettin' awful long in the tooth, Marie. You've got no beaus in sight. Pa surely wasn't thinking when he left you off his marryin' list.” Julianna swished her skirt with both hands and stuck out her tongue.
Marie felt warm blood rising into her neck and face at her sister's insolence. “Leave Pa out of this,” she barked. “You see how well his plans turned out.” She gestured toward the departing couple. “True affection conquered his meddlesome—” She fumbled for a word, then spat out, “meddling. Ellen is happy, so I am happy.”
Julianna smirked, pointing toward the forest. “James ain't happy. He stomped off. Pa went after him, glowerin' almost as much as James.”
Marie balled her fists, glaring at her sister. “Thank you for telling me something I already know, Miss Snippety Nose. James'll mend, given enough time.”
“But in no time at all, Pa will have to put you on the shelf. Nobody will even look at you by Christmas, Old Maid!”
~~~
Marie turned and stalked off toward the plank tables set out under the oak trees nearby. When Ma had found out Carl was rising from his bed to get married, she had bustled about, with the aid of Rulon's Mary, putting together a special wedding dinner. Well, special, if you count honey drizzled on corn cakes as special. Add the meat pulled from the bones of a few roasted chickens, gallons of milk, cold from sitting in stone crocks in the spring, and the meal could pass as special.
No matter what irritating things Julianna may say, Marie couldn't take the time to tussle with her. There was a-plenty of work to do today. Even so, she felt burgeoning anger consuming her good sense as she eyed a wash tub full of tableware sitting on the grass beside the table. Which of her brothers had left the dishes on the ground instead of putting them on the table? Inconsiderate clod! She bent over, pulled a stack of tin plates from the tub, and slammed them onto the table. Her ears rang with the cacophonous sound. She retrieved a second bunch of plates, dropped them onto the first pile, then grabbed a double handful of tin cups, which she banged down on the planks, not caring if she dented them.
After a few moments of rebellion, reveling in the clinks and clanks of the tinware, she straightened up, put her hands at her waist and stretched her back. Then she blew an escaping lock of hair out of her eyes and twisted the kinks out of her neck. Remembering that despite Carl and Ellen's hasty withdrawal, there were still plenty of folks to feed, pulled her out of her misery and helped her transform back into sensible, responsible Marie.
The Spanish priest robed in brown was the first to enter the shade under the oak trees, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. The Texas cowboys followed, discussing the possibility of a shiveree that night. Mr. and Mrs. Bates came along with Ma. Pa was nowhere to be seen, but the rest of the family pressed forward, intent upon taking nourishment after the arduous work of getting Carl wed.
Marie hurried to get behind the food-laden table to serve, and after a few false starts, as her younger brothers pushed and shoved to grab generous portions, they formed more or less into an orderly line, aided by a few well-placed smacks on the backs of their hands with the bowl of Marie's honey spoon.
"Ow!" howled Albert. "There's no call to beat me."
"Guests first," she replied, pointing with the spoon. "Get yourself to the end of the line."
Clay licked honey off the back of his hand and glared at Marie, but obeyed without a word.
The priest had been escorted to the head of the line by Mr. Bates, accompanied by many polite gestures on the part of both men. Marie smiled at the priest, racking her brain for something to say, then, as she heaped his plate, remembered a Spanish word she'd heard recently. "Señor," she said, and made a bobbing sort of curtsey.
"Muchas gracias, muy amable," he replied, smiling back at her and making little crosses in the air over the food table.
"Muchas grachius," she parroted back, wondering what she'd just said as the priest moved on.
By and by, everyone who had crowded around the table had their plates full, and all were engaged in seeking places to sit to devour the comestibles. After consolidating the leftovers into order, Marie picked up a plate and fork.
Just then, an excited voice called from the woods, "Hey, James is riding the mustang!" and the Owen brothers and the cowboys abandoned their plates and cups on the grass and hurried off to see the spectacle.
Marie watched them go, then forked up a bit of chicken, put a corn cake on her plate, and drenched it with honey. She found a place to sit by herself on the grass, and bit into the sweetened breadstuff. The bland corn cake reminded her of all such dry mouthfuls she'd endured in the years since Lincoln's Northern soldiers had come marching into Virginia. As she chewed, she wished she'd thought to get a cupful of milk. Eventually, the honey helped ease the ground corn down her throat, but she hoped Pa would trade a beef cow or two with Mr. Bates for wheat after harvest time. Wheat bread would be such a welcome change.
Young Roddy, Rulon's boy, came galloping under the oaks astride a stick Pa had fitted with a stuffed horsehead made of burlap. "The horsie bucked," he announced in a high, shrill voice. "Unca James fell off." He pranced around his mother. "Mama, he said bad words."
Marie didn't fight the chortle the boy's comment brought upon her. I reckon he did, she thought, covering her mouth. James don't like blemishes on his reputation as a horseman. She watched Mary bend over and exhort her son about sticking close to her. That baby's growin' up. Good thing Mary's got a new wee one to hold. Then she wondered if Julianna's words about her being an old maid had any truth. She was eighteen now. She closed her eyes and felt a chill move up her arms.
Mary and Rulon had wed years ago, as he went to the war. Now Carl was a married man. When was her time to marry and have a family? Maybe it had passed her by when Virginia got tangled up in that cursed fight. Marie shivered as the chill enveloped the rest of her body. So many young men had gone for soldiers. So many hadn't returned home when the fighting was over. Now that she was away out here in Colorado Territory, her chances for finding a suitor weren't showing any more promise than they had during the Unpleasantness.
Marie opened her eyes at the murmur of voices and a few laughs. Evidently the show at the corral was over. The cowboys drifted back to the serving table and piled their plates a second time.
She shook off her somber thoughts and wondered if she should take Carl and Ellen a bite of dinner. Surely, with Carl so sorely wounded, the two of them wouldn't be in a romantic frame of mind.
But what if they were?
"Oh claptrap," she muttered. "If Carl's hungry, Ellen will come fetch something to feed him."
"I reckon that's so," a male voice said. "May I refill your plate, Miss Marie?"
Drawing in a gasp of air and jerking to attention, Marie almost spilled her leftover food to the ground. Bill Henry!
"I . . . reckon I've had plenty to eat, thank you, Mr. Henry. You're most obliging to ask."
"Not even a cup of milk?"
"No. No, I'm real content." She smoothed her skirt, brushing at a wrinkle.
"Well then, would it be amiss if I joined you here while I ate?"
"Ma might need me," she said, trying unsuccessfully to figure out how to get to her feet in a ladylike manner.
"I reckon she's otherwise occupied, bidding folks good-bye," Bill said, nodding in Mrs. Owen's direction. She stood near a cluster of horses, talking to Mrs. Bates.
"Suit yourself," Marie murmured, wishing she didn't feel trapped. Bill Henry was a good-looking man, but all the world knew he was heading back to Texas someday soon. Besides, Pa wasn't likely to give his consent to a match with a cowhand. Except it's very likely Pa hasn't given me much thought at all, Marie mused. He has always worried first about setting his boys up in life.
Bill sat beside Marie and tucked
into his food. After chewing up a bite of dark chicken meat, he swallowed and looked at her. "Surprising doin's today." He gestured in the direction of Carl's cabin. "Your brother's got pluck to stand up on that leg and get married."
"There's no shortness of pluck amongst my brothers, Mr. Henry," Marie said, measuring her words. "Every single one of them is stuffed full of it. You'd think it would run out their ears, they're so plucky." The last word almost exploded from her lips from the exasperation that unexpectedly rose up like gall in her throat. "Pa built it into them from the time they were in short pants."
"Whoa there." Bill held up his hands. "What did I say to cause you hurt, Miss Marie?"
She picked at a stem of grass beside her skirt, pulling it to pieces, playing for time to settle her voice into more suitable tones. She glanced up, saw that the Bates family was riding off with the Spanish preacher in tow. "Nothing, sir," she finally said after taking a deep breath. "I'm right pleased to see my brother wed. Nothing gives me more joy than the happiness of my great good friend, the new Mrs. Owen." She knew she was enunciating her words carefully, but she couldn't help the brusque note that had crept into her voice.
"Is it your brothers' pluck or your pa's heavy-handedness that has you in a dither, miss?"
"My pa? Heavy-handed? Oh, yes," she said, her voice sounding mightily sarcastic to her ears. She gave a little shudder, and tried to remember herself. She finally said in a more moderate tone, "But I speak out of turn, Mr. Henry. My pa is an honorable man."
"He is that," Bill agreed. "He's simply a commandin' figure of a man who wants every soul to do his will."
Marie didn't reply.
"He's also the boss, so I reckon I'm speakin' out of turn, as well." Bill lifted his hat and smoothed back his hair before he carefully replaced the hat. "Beggin' your pardon, miss, I'd best get back to work."
Marie looked around. The cowboys had drifted away and the glade was empty of guests. Only Albert remained, still stuffing food into his apparently bottomless maw. "It appears our party is come to an end," Marie said, rearranging the utensils on her plate. "I reckon it's time for me to gather the dishes and such."
