Konrad Erickson practically leapt away without sparing even a glance at the spot. “I’ll be back for you.” He backed out the door. “I’ll be back, Annie. You belong to me.”
A second after the door slammed shut, Hope reached for Annie’s hand and drew her close. “You don’t belong to him. You don’t even belong with him. You belong to God, and you belong in this here house.”
“He’ll come back.” Fear thickened Annie’s voice.
“ ’Course he will. A snake don’t change his spots. But we got Almighty God on our side.” Hope continued to hold Annie’s hand as she sank to the floor. “That’s right, Annie. When your knees start a-shakin’, that’s the bestest time to kneel.”
“I don’t even know what to pray.”
“Let’s start with thankin’ the Lord for my rash. The Bible says in everything, give thanks. Well, turns out this bothersome rash was God’s way of protectin’ you today.”
In a matter of minutes, Johnny set to bawling. Hope didn’t want to leave Annie alone, so she suggested, “How’s about us movin’ to the parlor? You can suckle your son, and I might be rude and nod off on the settee.”
“I’ll take you upstairs.”
“Three days. I’ve been stuck in that room for three days. It’s a right fine room—don’t get me wrong—but I’m fixin’ to stay outta it for a while yet.”
As she curled up in the parlor, Hope watched Annie draw a shawl over her shoulder. “Reckon you and me could recite our psalm together?”
They started in unison, but Hope strategically let her voice die out when Annie’s special verses came up. Afterward, Annie said, “You did that to remind me of God’s promise to keep me.”
“I did that to remind us both. Far as I can tell, you can’t never hear too much of the Lord’s words.”
Hope didn’t want to fall asleep. Annie needed her. She felt herself fading. “It bein’ the Lord’s Day and us bein’ here, why don’t we sing a few hymns? Betcha little Johnny’d like that.”
“That is a nice idea, but I don’t much feel like singing.”
“Reckon that’s the bestest reason to sing.” Hope’s voice was unsteady, but she began, “O, for a thousand tongues to sing . . .”
Annie half hummed, half sang the first verse. Her voice cracked on the third stanza. “Jesus, the name that charms our fears—” She laid her head against the back of the rocking chair and started to weep.
Hope pushed herself off the settee and tottered over to her friend. She sang as she sank to the floor by the rocker. “ ’Tis life and health and peace.’ Didja hear that, Annie? There’s power and peace in the name of Jesus. You’re ascairt right now.” She patted Annie’s leg. “But Jakob and Phineas and me—we’re gonna pray for God to send a region of angels. No, wait. A lesion of angels . . . That still don’t sound right.”
“A legion of angels.”
“Exactly! See? You’re already agreein’ with me. When two or more gather and agree in Christ Jesus’ name, there’s power. Ain’t just you and me and little Johnny here. God and a big old legion of His angels are here, too. Good thing Jakob built a big parlor.”
Finally, Jakob got home. Just as expected, Velma was with him. She took one look at them and patted Emmy-Lou. “You go upstairs and change out of your Sunday dress.”
Once his daughter was out of earshot, Jakob came to the parlor and asked in a somber tone, “What is it?”
“Konrad—he came. He says he’s coming back to get me.”
“He’s wrong.” Jakob hunkered down and drew Hope’s arm around his neck. “Do you hear me, Annie? He’s wrong.” As he scooped Hope into his arms, he added, “Konrad doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Hope let her head sag on Jakob’s strong shoulder. “You couldn’t be more right. Konrad don’t know nothing.” Hope let out a small puff of a laugh. “He thinks you and me’re married and Johnny is our baby.”
Hope’s words abruptly shifted Jakob from wrath to disbelief.
“What did you say?”
She yawned, and her head moved ever so slightly to find a more comfortable spot. Lifting her a little, Jakob tilted his jaw to nudge her head closer. Holding her felt . . . right. Just as right as the notion of them being married and having children of their own.
“Konrad—he thought you and Hope were married.” Annie clutched her son. “He thinks Johnny is your child. Jakob—he will come back. He said he would. You must promise me that you will keep Johnny. Konrad won’t ever know. . . . ”
“It won’t come to that.” Angry with himself for underestimating Konrad, he vowed to set his plan into action as soon as Hope was in bed. “I’m carrying Hope upstairs.”
“I’ll help tuck her in.” Velma waited by the stairs.
Hope fell asleep in the brief moments he held her. Was she that weak, or did she trust him that completely? Jakob pushed aside his selfish musings. He slipped her onto the cot he’d built for her weeks ago, but letting go wasn’t easy. He wanted to hold her close and savor how her trust let her rely on him. It took all of his self-discipline to turn loose of her, then step back. I struggled to let go now. How will I send her away at all? God, give me strength.
Emmy-Lou’s hand slid into his. “Daddy, can you please button my dress?” Without waiting for his reply, she changed her grip to only one of his fingers and twirled like a ballerina to give him her back.
He’d never had trouble buttoning her dresses, but his fingers fumbled.
Annie had ascended the stairs, too. “I’ll see to her, Jakob. I’ll make Sunday supper, too.”
Taking in his sister’s tear-ravaged face, he shook his head.
“Stay up here and rest with Hope and Johnny.”
Bless her soul, Velma waggled her finger at Annie. “He’s right. You need to get more shut-eye. I’ll feed Emmy-Lou; then she can take her nap, too.” Quickly fastening Emmy-Lou’s buttons, Velma said, “I’ll be down in just a minute. You’re going to help me make Sunday supper, so go on downstairs, stand on the stool by the washbowl, and scrub your hands real good.”
“Okay!” Blissfully oblivious, his daughter left. Her little feet pattered down the stairs.
“Phineas and I”—Jakob strove to choose his words carefully— “we will talk.”
“Good. The sooner, the better.” Velma pushed him toward the door. “When I get back to Forsaken, I’m fixin’ to tell Big Tim. You can use all the help you can get.”
Jakob looked from her to Annie and back. Had Annie told her? Only Annie looked bewildered.
“It wasn’t my business, and I didn’t poke my nose into it.
The day Annie swooned and I told you she was with child, I saw bruises. She had a crop of ’em—all different colors. That only means one thing.” The ample cook from Forsaken Ranch turned to Annie and enveloped her in a hug. “As long as you were safe here, I kept my mouth shut. You’re in danger, so I’m speaking up. That varmint isn’t going to drag you back.”
“You knew?” Annie’s voice wavered.
Velma gave her a squeeze and stepped back. “Some folks think it’s family business. Well, we’re family. You’re my sister in Christ. It’s your man’s shame that he thumped on you. He lost any right to have you by his side.”
“So.” Jakob looked down at Hope. She looked darling all bundled up in his robe. She didn’t have one of her own, so he’d loaned her his. “Annie, you will stay up here and take care of Johnny and Hope.” He couldn’t resist making contact, so he feathered a few golden curls from Hope’s temple. “Velma will take care of Emmy-Lou, and Phineas and I—”
“He—” Annie hung her head and bit her lip. “Phineas . . . you are going to tell him?”
“He knows, Annie. He guessed the very same day I brought you here. When Leopold Volkner showed up, Phineas helped keep him away. See? All around you, God has placed people to safeguard you. He’ll be faithful. Lie down and rest. Remember the psalm you’ve claimed? ‘He that keepeth thee will not slumber.’ You can sleep because Almighty
God always watches over you.”
“Amen!” Velma declared.
“Huh?” Hope roused and half sat up.
“You go on now.” Velma gave him a shove. “Annie and I can take care of her. Hope, I may as well check you out. Glory, gal, this rash must itch like the dickens. We’ll use some baking soda—”
“I’m thankful for my rash.”
Jakob turned in the doorway at Hope’s sleepy comment.
“Scared that coward away, didn’t it, Annie? I told him two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Jakob repeated. That kind of time was a huge boon. Hope had bought him two weeks to put his plans into motion. Not only that, she’d have a chance to recover before he sent her away.
“Hope said we’d probably be in quarantine for that long.”
Velma chortled softly. “You sure are. Yep. That’s what I’m going to tell everyone. Of course I’m sure Big Tim won’t pay mind to my edict. Why . . . he’d show up here whenever you want, Jakob. Just to make some plans.”
“The sheriff and Pastor Bradle, too—can you arrange that?”
Velma started tugging the belt on Hope’s robe. “Easier than bakin’ a cake. Now get out of here.”
“Okay.” Hope started to shrug and wiggle. “What kind?”
Annie tenderly tucked Hope’s braid back over her shoulder.
“What do you mean, Hope?”
“I’ll get out of this and bake the cake.”
Annie’s eyes widened, and she let out a nervous giggle.
Jakob couldn’t help himself. He grinned, too—but at Hope.
She’d known exactly what she was saying and doing. He knew it, too, because she winked at him. Hope was some woman . . . and soon, he’d make her his.
Twenty-Five
Konrad sat with his back against the trunk of the peach tree and watched the farmhouse. Jakob had brought a middle-aged woman home with him, and she left after a little while. Konrad’s first impulse was to stop her and seek more information, but he didn’t. Waiting would be best. If Annie and her brother were playing him for a fool, they wouldn’t be able to keep up the ruse.
A few hours later, three men arrived. Instead of going in the house, they stayed out on the porch with Jakob and the farmhand. The preacher was still wearing his Sunday black suit. A metallic glint from the second man’s chest showed him to be the sheriff. The third man—he couldn’t possibly be the doctor. Doctors wore suits all the time and spent their time with books. That one was brawny, sun-bronzed, and in jeans.
“No!” Jakob half shouted. “You don’t understand!”
A thrill chased up Konrad’s spine. It was good to see someone bossing Jakob, telling him things he didn’t want to hear. Things he couldn’t control. Well, he’d better get used to it. The rest of the conversation rose and fell in rumbles too indistinct for Konrad to overhear.
The sheriff and parson left in about twenty minutes, but the third one stayed behind. He seemed busy at something, but Konrad couldn’t tell what until the man nailed up a sign on the porch. The paint was a little runny, but the warning was clear: Quarantine.
Konrad stayed out of sight and continued to observe Jakob’s farm. Jakob and his farmhand kept exchanging hostile looks. Well, well. The trip here didn’t result in his taking Annie home, but Konrad didn’t mind so much now. Just witnessing Jakob’s being thwarted was worth it all.
It wasn’t until sunset that he slinked back to town. The widow woman at the boardinghouse was playing her piano and singing with her little girl. As Konrad started up the stairs to his room, another woman came in. “Mrs. Orion, my husband just told me the Stauffer farm is under quarantine. I wondered if I could depend on you to make some soup.”
“Quarantine!”
“Yes. Velma’s declared it. I trust her judgment implicitly. Why, when I had the hives, she had Sydney use baking-soda compresses that—well, it’s not important, other than it just proved yet again that we’re blessed to have someone of Velma’s caliber. Anyway, the sheriff is willing to drop off a meal each day.”
“It’s the least I can do. Would you like it for tonight?”
“No, no. I already have things arranged through Thursday.
Would Friday work for you?”
Konrad stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to his room. His wife was minding Jakob’s wife and brats, and folks were delivering hot meals to them. In the meantime, he’d go home alone and have to survive on his own cooking for two more weeks. Even on his worst day, Jakob Stauffer still had folks helping him out. Anger had Konrad flexing his fists—but that only made things worse. The cuts and burn stung.
Pouring water from the pitcher over his hand and into the washbasin eased the pain. His left hand was plenty strong enough to handle a full pitcher. He set the pitcher aside and looked at the place where his two last fingers belonged. If anyone noticed the ugly little nubs, he said they’d been lost in a reaper. It was better than confessing he’d gotten caught cheating at cards and paid that horrible price.
Using just his right hand, he splashed the water on his face. A critical look in the mirror told him he ought to pay a visit to the barber—he was long overdue for a haircut, and he’d given up shaving months ago. It saved him a lot of time and trouble—but having the barber trim his beard would make a good impression. If it weren’t Sunday, he’d go have it done now. No. He’d wait another week and a half. A slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. It would be a good sign to everyone back home that he was going to fetch his wife.
He needed Annie home to cook for the threshing. She’d been gone for reaping, but having her there for the threshing would make folks believe everything was fine. And it would be fine. In fact, Annie had missed him. He could tell, because when he’d told her to give Jakob’s wife the kid and come to him, she’d obeyed. The old saying proved true: Absence made her heart grow fonder.
Threshing followed anywhere from ten days to five weeks after reaping. Since the wheat had been mostly ripe, it was best to thresh it quickly, else he’d lose yield. Two weeks would be okay. No more than that, though. He’d come back in exactly two weeks. Annie would be expecting him, and she’d be packed and ready. They’d get home on Monday, and he’d arrange to have their farm threshed on Tuesday. No, Wednesday. That way she’d have a day to bake. Volkner made a point of saying how she’d baked for Jakob’s harvest hands. Well, folks would talk of how she’d returned and settled right in and done him proud.
Everyone loved it when the thresher arrived—its steam engine could be heard from far away and the loud chugging built up a sense of anticipation. It would be a good welcome for her. The pleasure on Annie’s face would put to rest any of his neighbors’ suspicions.
Twenty-Six
Creighton.” Jakob shook his neighbor’s hand.
Phineas inhaled deeply. “Something smells good!”
“Ribs. Barbecued them myself.” Tim hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and looked downright smug. “I’ve got news. Good news. You can scrap your plans.”
“Konrad’s dead?” Phineas looked delighted.
“No, but almost as good.” Tim nudged Jakob. “You gave me great information. It made all the difference. Instead of sending the women away, you’re going to be sending Konrad off. Permanently. Let me explain. . . .”
“You can stop hovering. I’m healthy as a mule.” Hope gave Jakob a wry look. Annie was in the parlor, nursing Johnny after she’d put Emmy-Lou to bed. A symphony of crickets had lured Hope out to the back porch, but Jakob insisted on escorting her as if she were a tottering old crone.
“What are you making?”
She pulled out her crochet and carefully held up the piece so she wouldn’t undo anything. “An apron. I’m almost done.”
“It’s not very practical. Not very big, either. Are you . . .” Jakob’s voice died out, and he clamped his jaw shut.
“It’s for Emmy-Lou.”
His eyes flashed. “How could you do this? She won’t be able to cook by hersel
f.”
“No child can. She’s good at dumping things in a bowl, stirring, and loves to lick the spoon afterward.”
Jakob shook his head slowly. Deep worry lines plowed his forehead. “It’s not right to do that to her, Hope. Emmy-Lou must learn that she’s different. If you let her think she can do these things, when the time comes that she can’t, it will be a bigger disappointment.”
They’d danced around this issue more than a few times. Lord, he’s worryin’ about his daughter not seein’, but he’s blind to the truth.
Can’t you open his eyes? Hope waited for a moment. Nothing within her warned her to stay silent. God, I’m takin’ that as a sign that it’s time to speak my piece.
“You and me—we’re lookin’ at it different. You don’t want her to have anything that might be taken away later. Me? I think the more she has now, the better she’ll be at livin’ life to the fullest later. Time might come when she goes blind—but because she knows her colors, you can paint her a picture with words, and she’ll see the sunrise anyway.”
“That’s different than cooking.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Hope leaned toward him. “I was thinking—the measuring spoons and cups. You could use a nail and tap dents on each of ’em so’s she’d know which was what. And she’ll know by the size of the canisters what’s inside. Thataway, she can do quite a bit in the kitchen.
“I was thinkin’ on it last night. I don’t look at my hands whilst I shell peas or beans. I look at Annie or at the sunset or watch one of the dogs chase Milky. If ’n you watch your sis when she rolls out pie dough, you’ll see she don’t stare at it.”
Her boss didn’t say anything. Then again, he didn’t argue with her. That had to be a good sign.
She let out a small laugh. “As a matter of fact, lookee here. We’ve been talkin’, and I didn’t even look down, but my crochet hook’s dippin’, twistin’, and loopin’.”
Jakob looked at the piece in her lap.
“Mr. Stauffer, sir—”
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