These Golden Pleasures

by Valerie Sherwood

  “I hope so,” said Mr. Witherspoon nervously. “When we were out riding yesterday, I put my hand on her shoulder—I was just adjusting the cushion at her back,” he added quickly, “and she pushed my hand away and turned and glared at me!”

  “You don’t lay a hand on her until that note is in my possession, you understand?” cried Aunt Ada, her voice fierce. “You promised me you’d cancel Jimsey’s note for the four thousand dollars he owes at the bank if I got her for you, and I’m holding you to it, Ned Witherspoon! I’m to get that note back marked ‘Paid and Cancelled’ in front of the church before you two walk up the aisle!”

  “That’s right, that’s what I agreed,” said Mr. Witherspoon, and Roxanne could imagine him standing there wiping his brow with a white linen handkerchief. “But suppose”—he lowered his voice—“suppose Josh objects. I notice Josh is never here when I come sailing—”

  “He’s all tuckered out with work these days, goes to bed right after supper,” said Aunt Ada quickly.

  “But,” persisted Mr. Witherspoon, “suppose Josh objects? She’s his niece, after all.”

  “You leave Josh to me,” said Aunt Ada in a significant tone. “Josh has never stood against me, and he never will—especially not in this, when you can give Roxanne such a good home. Josh said Roxanne wasn’t to get married till she was sixteen, and I respected that. But she’s sixteen now. Oh, Josh may buck a little, but he’ll come around to it. Same as she will. You’ll see, Ned, you’ll see.

  Roxanne turned and fled silently back up the stairs, her heart beating trip-hammer blows.

  Now she understood. Somebody named Jimsey owed a note at the bank, and Mr. Witherspoon, who was president of the bank, had promised to cancel that note if she married him!

  Roxanne’s legs gave way beneath her and she sank down on the bed feeling dazed. Was it for this she’d been brought to Kansas? To marry Ned Witherspoon?

  She forgot about the torn dress, the white thread. Morning would be soon enough to mend it. She had to think. She sat staring out the window across the rolling moonlit prairies that stretched out lonely and far away.

  But no matter how she tried to soften it, it came out just one way: Aunt Ada was selling her—just as she might a cow or a horse or a bushel of corn! For four thousand dollars!

  Chapter 3

  After a nearly sleepless night on her narrow bed, Roxanne had made up her mind. She had to get Uncle Josh on her side. He’d have to stand up to Aunt Ada. Roxanne had no money, nowhere to go, no trade, and jobs were scarce. Uncle Josh was her only hope.

  Accordingly, when he announced he was taking the buckboard down to Creightons’ to get a wheel fixed, she asked—since the Smith place was on the way—if she couldn’t take some cookies to Julie Smith. Everybody knew Julie had had an attack at her own party and had been resting in bed ever since. Aunt Ada said that would be very nice, and Uncle Josh could pick Roxanne up on his way back from Creightons’. Roxanne had a feeling her aunt had assented because the only young people at the Smiths’ were Julie and Nadine; even the hired hands were over fifty. And Buck wasn’t likely to come calling in the daytime; he had work to do on his father’s farm.

  All week the weather had been hot, and today was the worst yet. Roxanne, dressed bravely in her yellow calico, climbed up on the bouncing buckboard. As they drove off, she asked, “Uncle Josh, who is Jimsey?”

  He looked uneasy. “I’m your Aunt Ada’s second husband, Roxanne. She had a son by her first, name of Jim, who lives way the other side of Wichita. We hardly ever see him. But,” he grimaced, “Jimsey has money troubles. He gambles. Ada bought him a farm over there, set him up, but he’s about to lose it. Got a note due at the bank.”

  “For four thousand dollars.” Roxanne’s voice was bleak.

  Uncle Josh looked startled. “How would you—”

  “I heard all about it,” said Roxanne. “Aunt Ada is trying to sell me to the banker so he’ll cancel out that note and Jimsey won’t have to pay it.”

  “Oh, come now, Roxanne,” said Uncle Josh, sounding shocked. “Your Aunt Ada thinks this is best for you. Ned Witherspoon is a very solid citizen. You’d five in a fine house—”

  “And sleep with him every night,” finished Roxanne. “No thank you.”

  He sighed. “I guess I was wrong to bring you out here to Kansas, Roxanne.” He paused, then said hopefully, “May-December marriages often work out. I remember a twenty-year-old girl who married a seventy-year-old man who—”

  “Maybe she loved him,” interrupted Roxanne. “I don’t love Mr. Witherspoon. I cannot learn to love him. He repels me.”

  Uncle Josh seemed to crumple. “Your Aunt Ada,” he began weakly, “is a very forceful woman.”

  You mean you’ve never stood up to her, thought Roxanne, her face mirroring the indignation she felt.

  His voice was humble. “This place we have—it’s her place, inherited from her folks. I never made any money, Roxanne. Not on my own. And we’d have gone under when corn went to ten cents a bushel except for Ada. And when Jimsey got in trouble, she arranged that loan for him at the bank.”

  Which I am supposed to pay off—with my body! thought Roxanne angrily. Why, that dress Aunt Ada had bought for her and for which she had been so humbly grateful was just the wrappings on a bed-warmer for old Mr. Witherspoon!

  Keeping his eyes on the reins, her uncle spoke again. “Your Aunt Ada only means well for you, Roxanne,” he said placatingly, reaching out and patting her hand in a distracted way. “Give it time, child. Maybe you can learn to—”

  She snatched her hand away.

  “Uncle Josh,” she said between clenched teeth, “how could you do this to me?”

  On that unhappy note they arrived at the Smiths’ road gate, and Roxanne tumbled out of the buckboard while her uncle said a grim giddap to the horses and moved on down the road.

  Her mind was a tumble of emotions as she stepped onto the Smiths’ front porch. Julie, out of bed and looking lovely and frail, came to the door to meet her. Julie was wearing a checked blue gingham dress that hung on her wasted frame, and her eyes were feverishly bright. She hugged Roxanne warmly and urged her inside.

  Immediately Nadine came into the front hall, swinging her hips. “We hear you’ve got a fella!” she taunted. And burst into laughter.

  Roxanne reddened with vexation. But Julie said, “Scat!” to her younger sister and took Roxanne into the comfortable living room.

  “Oh, my,” Roxanne remembered. “I was bringing you some cookies, Julie. That was my excuse for coming over here, but I forgot them. They’re sitting on the seat beside Uncle Josh, and he’s a long way down the road by now.”

  “Never mind,” said Julie. “Can you stay to supper tonight?”

  Roxanne shook her head. “Uncle Josh dropped me off on his way to get a wagon wheel fixed. He’ll be picking me up when it’s ready. I’ll remember about the cookies then.” She gave Julie a keen look. “How’ve you been, Julie?”

  Julie avoided her eyes. “Oh, as well as can be expected, I guess. I got tired of staying in bed in this hot weather, so I got up. But I don’t really feel strong, you know.” She waved Roxanne to a chair and proffered a cardboard fan, bright with advertisements.

  Roxanne took the fan and studied it. It displayed a buxom woman wearing a tightly laced corset.

  “Stifling, isn’t it?” Julie pushed back a lock of her dark hair that had come loose from its upswept pompadour.

  Roxanne nodded, so depressed she could hardly respond.

  Julie studied her friend and asked quietly, “What’s wrong, Roxanne?”

  “Aunt Ada wants me to marry that old Witherspoon man,” said Roxanne. “She’s going to lock me in my room to starve if I won’t.”

  Julie looked shocked. “And we thought—”

  “You thought I’d lost my mind and was trying to marry money,” said Roxanne grimly. “I guess everyone thought that.”

  “No!” cried Julie. “I mean—well, yes, I guess we did,
Roxanne. When Nadine said you pretended not to notice anybody, but you were all dressed up riding around town with the president of the bank . . .”

  “I felt like a fool, Julie. Oh, Julie, it’s awful. Aunt Ada’s son Jimsey owes the bank four thousand dollars—and if I marry Mr. Witherspoon, he’ll cancel the note! She’s selling me to him, Julie!”

  Julie looked shocked. “That’s terrible, Roxanne,” she said quietly. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know! I haven’t any money. Uncle Josh won’t take my part. If only I could get a job—work somewhere.”

  “There just aren’t any jobs around here, Roxanne. You know that.”

  Roxanne swallowed. She did indeed know that. From the front porch Nadine suddenly screeched, “It’s Buck! He’s coming down the road. I wonder what he’s doing not working this time of day?”

  They ran to the front porch to greet him. He came into the house, running a hand through his damp brown hair. He had two farmhands off sick, Buck told them, and he’d been checking the neighboring farms to see if anybody could be spared. Julie said eagerly her father could probably spare someone—tomorrow maybe. Her father was taking a nap, but he’d be up in an hour or so. Why didn’t Buck just sit down and wait for him?

  Buck said he’d do that. It was so hot out there and muggy, it like to roasted a man just coming down the road. He looked speculatively at Roxanne, obviously wondering why she was there.

  “Roxanne came over to bring me some cookies,” smiled Julie. “Only she forgot them.”

  For a wild, terrible moment Roxanne envied Julie. Julie who was dying. At least while she lived Julie had love—a man’s love, Buck’s love . . . and a family who cared for her. Even foolish, temperamental Nadine loved her. Nadine was just young and envious of her older sister’s beauty and handsome beau. At that moment Roxanne felt she would have given anything to be loved as Julie was.

  Nadine came in and sat down so close to Buck that he grew nervous. She hung on his words until Julie gave her an irritated look. Somehow the conversation came around to the old Hatter place next door. It had been up for sale ever since the bank had foreclosed on it, Julie told them, but nobody wanted an old soddy.

  “What’s a soddy?” asked Roxanne.

  Laughing, they told her that in many parts of Kansas the settlers had found building materials scarce. No stone, just some scrubby cottonwoods and a few willows along the streams. So their first houses were dugouts.

  “Dugouts?”

  “Sod-covered holes,” explained Buck. “And some real sod houses.”

  “I bet Roxanne’s never seen anything like that!” crowed Nadine maliciously. “Bankers live better’n that!”

  Julie’s mouth tightened. She smoothed her dark hair with thin fingers. Roxanne thought there was something desperate about her friend today, but she put it down to annoyance with Nadine. “Why don’t you walk Roxanne over to the old Hatter place, Buck, and show her the soddy?” Julie suggested. “It isn’t so far, and I can fix us a snack while you’re gone.”

  Buck shrugged. “The sky looks bad. Might be a storm coming.” Plainly, he meant, I don't like to leave you here.

  Julie’s hands clenched, as if with inner struggle. “I’ve seen lots of soddies,” Julie said steadily. “Roxanne hasn’t. It’s only a little way across the fields. No, Nadine, you may not go! You promised to help Nance with the ironing today and there’s a heap of it. It isn’t fair for her to have to do it all by herself.”

  Nadine pouted. And Roxanne, worn out with her worries over being forced to marry Ned Witherspoon, and torn with a desire to be alone with Buck—to be alone with any man who wasn’t old enough to be her grandfather—got up and said she’d love to see the soddy at the old Hatter place.

  Julie’s eyes were hungry as she watched them go. Roxanne saw that look and her heart ached for her friend.

  “I hear you’ve been riding around the countryside with Ned Witherspoon,” said Buck as they crossed the yard and went through the gate into the kitchen garden.

  “Seems everybody’s heard that,” said Roxanne. “Isn’t he kind of old for you?”

  “Aunt Ada doesn’t think so.”

  “It’s what you think that’s important, Roxanne.”

  “Is it?” She turned and faced him. They had gone through another gate and now stood in a cornfield. Ahead of them in the big Kansas sky rose a high bank of clouds moving rapidly from the southwest. As Roxanne turned, she saw from the corner of her eye another cloud mass moving from the northwest, on a collision path with those just ahead.

  “You need someone younger,” Buck said, his voice growing rich. “More my age.”

  Her heart was pounding as they moved on through the corn. Buck’s meaning was clear. Thinking about that, Roxanne was distracted, as her toe caught in a tangle of morning glories rioting through the corn. As she stumbled Buck reached out to steady her, seizing her slender arm in his big brown hand. His touch seemed to burn her, and she sprang away from the contact, watching her footing carefully, trying to keep a safe distance between them. Cornstalks brushed her and weeds scraped her ankles.

  When they came to a barbed wire fence, covered with brambles, Roxanne hesitated.

  “Here, I’ll help you.” Buck reached down and swept her up in his arms. One brawny arm was around her slender waist and the other under the back of her knees, making her legs feel as if they’d turned to butter. He held her that way in the sultry breathless hush, gazing down at her with dark intense eyes, and she could hear the beating of her heart and feel the pressure of her soft hip against his hard stomach muscles and belt buckle. For a wild moment she thought he was going to kiss her; then he swung her up and over the fence, depositing her lightly on the other side.

  Back on her feet, she swayed dizzily, then straightened and, with pounding heart, looked away from Buck as he lightly vaulted the fence and strode forward.

  I don’t want to feel this way, she thought. I won’t feel this way! But she was achingly aware of him as they moved on through sticky heat over undulating prairie land, fallow land which hadn’t been tilled since the Hatters moved out. Drooping daisies and clover and thistle and clumps of tall grasses rasped against her legs. On distant fence lines she saw tall, straight sunflowers and tumbling masses of morning glories. A rabbit ran past her feet and disappeared into a tangle of weeds nearby. She turned her head from side to side in a fanning effort. She didn’t know if it was Buck’s nearness or the weather that made her feel so odd. Her legs felt heavy, and her clothes seemed to weigh her down. Even the meadowlarks and wrens were still. A breathless sort of day. The very earth seemed to be waiting for something to happen.

  “Roxanne . . .” Buck’s voice was caressing. A tremor went through her. She could feel his presence intensely.

  When she didn’t look up, he said, “There it is, just coming up over the next rise.” He pointed to a squat, dingy, boxlike structure. “That’s a sodhouse. It’s made of heavy slabs of topsoil, held together by roots of buffalo grass. It’s a lot better than those boxes covered with tarpaper my granddad lived in when he first came here.”

  Roxanne came to a shaky halt and drew a deep breath. She had come to a decision. “I didn’t come to see the soddy,” she announced. “I came out here to talk to you about something, Buck.”

  Staring at her, he loosened his collar and tossed back his damp hair. Suddenly, he looked up at the ominous sky. “We’d better get on,” he mumbled uneasily. “That sky is looking bad.”

  “Forget about the sky,” she said in a level voice, and it took great effort on her part to say it. “Tell me straight out, Buck. Do you love Julie?”

  He didn’t meet her eyes. “Of course I love her, Roxanne,” he mumbled. “I’ve always loved her. Since I was fourteen.”

  “You’re all she has, Buck—and she’s my friend.” Roxanne’s voice was strong, though her heart hurt to say it. “I came out here to tell you to stop fooling around me, Buck.”

  She watched h
im achingly as she delivered this ultimatum. A slight ripple went through his broad shoulders and he frowned, but aside from that his face was impassive.

  “That all you got to say?” he demanded, almost roughly.

  She opened her mouth to answer with a defiant yes, but her voice was drowned in a sudden terrific crash, as if several enormous freight trains had slammed into sach other at a crossing.

  Roxanne’s gaze flashed skyward in the direction of the sound. The two fast-moving cloud masses had met head on, and the thunder had come from that. As she stood rooted in fright, the clouds seemed to break up and roil around in turmoil.

  “Come on!” Buck seized her arm. “The Old Hatter Place has a storm cellar!”

  They ran forward, Buck almost dragging her. Out of the tumbling clouds snaked a long gray funnel, dangling down from the sky, perhaps a mile long. Leisurely it dipped to the ground and turned immediately black from the debris it scooped up. They could hear its thunderous roar as it sucked up everything in its path and flung its gleanings skyward into the huge roiling cloud that had spawned it.

  Onward it came, toward that bleak square building made of the prairie sod.

  So abruptly did Buck halt his advance that Roxanne almost catapulted past him, but his grip on her arm held her back.

  “Too late,” he shouted. “It’s coming this way. We’ll never make it.” He spun about and cut off at right angles to the swaying black tower that leaned toward them cobra-like as if to strike..

  Running madly beside Buck over the uneven ground, Roxanne cast a swift, horrified glance at the approaching tornado. It was much wider now, and denser, a looming black funnel of infinite height.

  “Hurry,” cried Buck desperately.

  But Roxanne was already running as fast as she could. Her breath sobbed in her lungs. Suddenly, Buck came to another skidding halt, so fast that she was swung in a half circle around him.

  Over the deafening noise of the approaching storm she heard him yell, “It’s turning!” on an anguished note. And as she followed his gaze she saw that the great black funnel had darted to the side, just as they had. As she watched, that greedy funnel attacked the soddy and the outbuildings of the Old Hatter Place and in an instant they had disappeared.