by Caryl McAdoo
The baby dropped her hand and Cecelia’s then folded her arms across her chest. “I liked Clay.”
“Bonnie, promise.”
She wrinkled her nose. “But if Clay Briggs isn’t good enough, he’s never going to let any of us get married.”
Clarksville, seat of Red River County, Texas. Finally, the Belle skidded to a stop. Elijah shook his head. Jethro had not lied, couldn’t be a more bustling, quaint place tucked into the woods in all of the state.
He kept to his bench until the other two passengers disembarked, a drummer never at a lack for words and a man about his age who appeared military by his bearing, but refused the salesman’s attempt at conversation.
Good thing. If he’d been as big a talker as the drummer, Elijah would have had to ride with the driver.
Once the stage’s dust settled, he climbed down, retrieved his carpet bag, glanced around the busy square, then strolled into the hotel. What was a Donoho? Had to be someone’s sir name.
Again, he hung back until the other two men booked rooms then bellied up to the front desk. “Henry Buckmeyer. Could you tell me how I get to his place? Do you know?”
“Yeah, sure I know. You need a room?”
“Not unless Mister Buckmeyer’s home is too far to get to by dark. It’s my understanding his ranch is near town.”
“That’s right, only about five miles south of town as the crow flies.” The clerk nodded to his right. “Two blocks down is a livery. You can hire a buggy there and just tell your driver. Everyone knows the Buckmeyer place.”
Half an hour later, with a map drawn with coal on a burlap seed sack and his new rig—a well-built surrey and a nice little mare—Elijah headed south out of town. The whole trip from California, he hadn’t let himself think about Mary’s sisters.
But now, almost there, his heartbeat quickened and he could hardly get enough breath for the anticipation.
Jethro hadn’t stretched the truth about Clarksville. No reason to think he would varnish the reality of the abundance of Buckmeyer beauty. He could hardly wait to lay eyes on Gwendolyn or Cecelia.
The baby girl, too, except she’d not be old enough to wed for quite a few more years.
Each so beautiful, the sunsets were jealous. That’s what his partner claimed.
He’d take himself one for wife if they were half as pretty as their sister. And if cut from the same cloth as Mary Rachel. Besides intelligence, the only thing that surpassed her beauty was the size and sincerity of her sweet heart.
Cecelia handed her step-mother another split peg then chuckled. “A man may work from sun to sun –”
“But a woman’s work is never done.” May smiled then leaned in close. “How is our Gwendolyn doing?”
Cecelia did a slow three-sixty then shrugged. “She thought she loved Clay, but she won’t go against Daddy’s wishes. I don’t think she never will.”
“That’s good.” May held out her hand.
Cecelia handed over another peg. “Have you asked him yet?”
“No, I wanted to wait until after –”
“Mother. Three-quarters of the girls my age in the county are already married. The rest are so…so…undesirable, no one wants them. I’m almost seventeen. What if all the good ones guys get taken in the next year?”
“CeCe, I said I would talk to him. And I will. But you know how your father is.” She grinned. “If I can make it seem to be his idea, your chances go up considerably.”
Though she had to agree, she still hated that Mary Rachel had ruined it for her. Just because she ran off and married the wrong man, didn’t mean Cecelia would. Mercy—as the great Henry Buckmeyer would say—if he had his way, she and her sisters might never marry and grow up to be old maids.
The thought broke her heart.
Her bratty brother busted through the back door. “Rider coming! Pro’bly another suitor for Gwen.” Houston put his finger in his mouth and faked a gag. “Pro’bly another gold-digger like all the rest. Why else would someone want her?”
“Samuel Houston Buckmeyer! Watch your mouth, or I’ll hold you down and get Bonnie to give you what for.”
May leaned in close. “Leave him be. He’s just trying to get your goat.”
Well the spoiled little terror already had, but ignoring him did make sense. He only craved attention. When he wasn’t the center of everyone’s, he acted up something awful. She helped finish penning the wash, then decided she’d go see the new suitor.
Wow, word surely spread like a late summer grassfire in Red River County. Clay hadn’t been gone but a few hours.
“Where’s Crockett?” She handed the bag of clothespins to May. If that baby needed seeing to, CeCe loved seeing to it. She couldn’t get enough of that little booger. “Need any help with my baby brother?”
“No, Lacey Rose and Bart are playing blocks with him in the wash house.”
“Guess I’ll go see this new beau, then, before Daddy runs him off.”
“Certainly, you go on. I’ve only got one more load boiling.”
Cecelia leaned in close. “You do know we have folks who will do the laundry.”
“Of course, silly, but I like doing your father’s and Crockett’s. And well, to tell the truth, I’m having a bit of trouble with my latest story. I should never have told Houston and Bonnie I’d pen them a children’s book.”
Strolling through the kitchen, Cecelia snagged a gingersnap right under Mammy’s nose—um, rather, Miss Jewel’s; she loved the beloved cook’s new name—then eased on out into the hall.
Hmmm.
Empty and quiet. Plenty unusual.
And her father’s office door closed in the middle of the afternoon?
What was that about?
She hurried upstairs and tapped on her older sister’s door.
“Come in.”
She stuck her head through a narrow opening. “Who’s here?”
“I don’t know. Someone to see Daddy I guess.”
“Houston said the guy came calling on you.”
“That boy. Daddy needs to tan his hide. He’s all time spreading rumors. Maybe we ought to take things into our own hands and wash his mouth out with lye soap until he shuts his trap.”
“Now there’s an idea.” She stepped in and waved the door toward shut but never let go of it. “Come on. Let’s go see who it is.”
“No, I don’t much cotton to that idea. Not up to meeting someone new. You know how long I’ve been sweet on Clay.”
“I know. I do, but…” She turned toward the door and stopped before leaving. “Fine, but don’t be asking me any questions.”
Gwen shook her head then waved her off. Cecelia had to smile. She couldn’t help it if she hated keeping news to herself. Mercy, holding stuff in would hurt a body. Everyone knew that.
She eased on downstairs, loafed around the kitchen keeping out of Miss Jewel’s way, and only slipping one more snap until her father’s library door swung open. She took two steps then froze.
Sweet Lord above, have mercy on my soul!
The man’s sky blue eyes met hers, and for a heartbeat, she stared into the windows of his soul. Such an awesome sight! The urge to dive in almost overwhelmed her, but what a good thing she didn’t.
If she ever gave in, she may never come up for air again.
Her father stepped toward her. “Cecelia! Come here, sweetness, and meet Elijah Cunningham. He’s Jethro and Mary’s partner in the Mercantile and gold mine. He’s going to build me a stream engine for the mill.”
She blinked, and the man looked away. “Good to meet you, sir.” She smiled, but not too big. Hopefully, her father had not seen her make the fool of herself. Him and his stupid no-courting-until-you’re-eighteen rule.
And just that morning, she’d promised to abide by it.
Hope you’ll enjoy all Daughters of the Heart in September, 2015!
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Blessings, Caryl
