Tomorrow's Garden

by Amanda Cabot

  “You didn’t have to be so mean to the mayor. He was only trying to help. Honestly, Harriet, sometimes I think you just don’t understand people.”

  Harriet sighed as her sister’s words registered. She didn’t need more aggravation, but it appeared she was going to get it. Though Ruth was invariably shy around strangers, she rarely hesitated to voice her opinion when she disapproved of something Harriet had done. Right now it was clear Ruth disapproved of the way her sister had handled the housing situation and the man who had pitied her. Oh, he’d tried to hide it, but Harriet recognized pity when she saw it. Pity was what the townspeople had displayed when they’d stood in the Fortune cemetery as two coffins were lowered into the ground. Pity was what she had heard in their voices when she had moved herself and the younger children into a house that was far too small for six people. And pity was what Mr. Lawrence Wood had shown when he’d seen her reaction to this house. Harriet didn’t want pity. She wanted a place where her siblings would be safe.

  “You weren’t supposed to be listening.” She tipped her head up ever so slightly as she chided her sister. Though five years younger, Ruth was a couple inches taller than Harriet and had inherited their mother’s beauty along with her golden hair and blue eyes. Harriet alone among the Kirk children had their father’s silvery hair and gray eyes. “I told you to keep the others occupied.”

  Ruth shrugged. “That’s hard to do when you get riled. You both raised your voices.”

  Grandma would have been appalled. When Harriet had been a child, her grandmother had insisted that a lady never raised her voice and that she never, ever made a spectacle of herself outdoors. “The Kirk name is a proud one,” she had announced, her eyes steely with disapproval when she had discovered Harriet climbing a tree. “You must never let it be disgraced.” Harriet, it appeared, had done exactly that this morning. So much for setting positive examples for the younger children.

  “I can’t undo the damage,” she said with another sigh, wondering whether the handsome blond man’s pity had been caused by her unmaidenly behavior. That had been one of Thomas’s complaints the day she refused his offer of marriage. He had claimed that, no matter how wealthy she was, Harriet would never catch a husband unless she adopted a more feminine demeanor. He had been wrong, of course. Not only was Harriet not wealthy, but she had no desire for a husband, if it meant one who turned out to be like Thomas Bruckner. Beauty, Grandma had claimed, was only skin deep. That had certainly been true of Thomas.

  “Let’s see what the inside of the house looks like.” Harriet turned toward the wagon. As she’d expected, her brothers were slouched against the back, refusing to let Mary climb down. “Enough of that. Boys, you can start unloading our trunks. Leave them on the front porch until Ruth and I decide where they’re going. But first, help Mary down and give her the food basket.” Harriet smiled at her youngest sister, knowing how much the eight-year-old craved feeling useful. “I’m trusting you to keep the basket safe. It’s very important you make sure no one sneaks any of our dinner.”

  Mary grasped the basket handle firmly before she flashed a warning look at her brothers. Though they wouldn’t be quiet, at least the four youngest children were occupied. That would give Harriet and Ruth a chance to explore the house’s interior.

  Five minutes later, Harriet was back on the first floor, studying the parlor. Considerably more spacious than the one where she and her siblings had spent the last seven years, it boasted two wing chairs, a horsehair settee, and half a dozen upholstered chairs, all clustered around a brightly colored floral rug. Chintz curtains hung at the windows, their green pattern coordinating with the rug. It was an attractive room, large enough to accommodate all of them but not so fussy that Harriet would worry if the boys began to tussle. They could use a gathering room like this. Unfortunately, it was not possible.

  “It’ll be a bit cramped,” she said with another sigh, “but if we move all the furniture out, there’ll be room for three beds. Daniel won’t be happy about sharing with Mary again, but it can’t be helped.”

  Ruth pursed her lips. “I think you’re being unreasonable. There are three perfectly good bedrooms on the second floor.”

  “And you know why we can’t use them.” It was a shame. If the exterior had been stone, the house would have been perfect. The first floor held a well-appointed kitchen along with a spacious dining room and the parlor. The second story, as Ruth had pointed out, boasted three large bedrooms. But nothing changed the fact that the second story was timber.

  The sounds of raucous laughter followed by an ominous splintering of wood drifted in from the porch. When Harriet turned to learn what her brothers had broken, Ruth laid a hand on her arm. “There’s no reason to think this house will burn,” she said. “Besides, you saw the second stairway.”

  Harriet hadn’t expected that. In addition to the interior stairway in the back of the house, there was another set of stairs, this one on the exterior of the house. Because it was outside, it would provide a faster and safer egress from the second floor than relying on the main staircase.

  “If something happened,” Ruth continued, “we could get out easily. I know you’re going to be busy getting everything ready for school, but I’ll make sure we all practice leaving. I’ll even wake the children up in the middle of the night the way you used to do.”

  Everyone had hated that, but Harriet had had no choice. She had to ensure that her family knew what to do if their house caught fire. She couldn’t let them die the way Mother and Father had.

  “I still don’t like the idea.” But, she admitted, it would be more comfortable for everyone if they used both the bedrooms and the parlor for their normally designated purposes.

  “Please, Harriet.” Ruth tightened her grip on Harriet’s arm, keeping her from investigating the boys’ activity, despite Daniel’s nervous laugh and Jake’s clearly audible shushing. Whatever was happening on the porch was not good, and yet Ruth believed their sleeping arrangements to be more important than the damage the boys were wreaking. “I’ll share the back room with Mary,” she volunteered. “You can have the one in front for yourself.”

  That was a major concession, for shy Ruth hated having others around her, even her younger sister. When they’d been crowded into the small house that had once been their grandparents’, she had slept on the floor in the dining room because it was the only place where she had had even a modicum of privacy.

  Ignoring the boys’ hoots and the ominous silence that followed them, Harriet considered her sister’s proposition. If Ruth was willing to make what was for her a huge sacrifice, she must feel strongly about the safety of the second story. Perhaps it wasn’t as dangerous as Harriet feared. The family would be less inclined to complain if they had more room, and there was no doubt about it: Harriet would enjoy having a room of her own. She knew from experience that it would be a welcome refuge after a day of teaching.

  “All right, but we’ll practice our exit before we go to supper today.”

  Ruth had the good sense to merely nod rather than grin triumphantly.

  An hour later, the trunks had been dragged upstairs and everyone was gathered around the dining room table, acting as if it had been weeks rather than hours since their last meal. Mary preened over the fact that she’d kept the food safe, while the boys feigned ignorance of the broken crates. Fortunately, though the wood had been splintered, Harriet’s precious books had suffered no damage, and so she had not scolded her brothers for their carelessness.

  “I like this town,” Mary said between bites of hard-boiled egg. “It’s pretty.”

  Indeed it was. The half-timbered houses with flower-filled window boxes made it look like a scene from a storybook. That had been a pleasant surprise. Though Michel Ladre had touted the virtues of the town he’d founded, pointing out that it had French settlers as well as the Germans who were common in this part of Texas, he had neglected to mention Ladreville’s charming architecture.

  “The settle
rs came from Alsace. That’s the area on the French and German border,” Harriet said in her best schoolmarm manner. “That’s why the houses are so different from the ones in Fortune.” With the exception of the house that her grandparents had constructed of stone to remind them of their home in England, Fortune’s other buildings were timber. “That’s also why the streets have unusual names.”

  The settlers, apparently paying tribute to both their past and their present, had named the east-west streets after rivers: Rhinestrasse, rue de la Seine, and Potomac Street, while the north-south streets were called Hochstrasse and rue du Marché. As they’d ridden down Hochstrasse, the German version of High Street, on their entry into Ladreville, Harriet had been impressed with the cleanliness and prosperity of the town as well as the fanciful buildings that made her heart sing with joy. Looking at them, she felt as if she’d been transported inside the pages of one of her favorite books. That was more than she’d expected when she’d accepted the offer to teach here, for she had sought nothing more than a chance to start over in a town that knew nothing of the Kirk family history.

  Ladreville was larger than Fortune, and, if Michel Ladre, the former mayor who had left so suddenly that he had not taken the time to notify her, had not exaggerated, was a more progressive community. Why, he had announced with pride in one of his letters, Ladreville had two churches, and as the town’s teacher, Harriet was expected to attend services at both, alternating between them. Though she would have preferred that her family have only one congregation, she had not told the mayor that lest it influence his decision. There were some things he did not need to know. Now that mayor was gone, replaced by Lawrence Wood, the big man who did not understand why this house was less than perfect.

  “I don’t like the town,” Jake announced. It was a predictable reaction. At fourteen, Jake was convinced he was an adult and did not require Harriet in his life. That meant that anything his oldest sister did was wrong. “I don’t see why we had to leave Fortune.”

  “You already know why. We had no future there. Besides,” she said with a stern look at Jake, “I’ll earn more money teaching here.” Ladreville offered its schoolteacher more than twice what she had been paid in Fortune. Perhaps more importantly, Jake would be away from the boys she had considered a pernicious influence.

  “Money isn’t everything.”

  “It is if you want to eat and have a roof over your head.” Though she had planned to wait a day or two before making her announcement, Jake’s belligerence goaded her into saying, “That’s the reason everyone’s going to work until school starts.”

  Twelve-year-old Sam grinned. “I like to work.”

  “Well, I don’t.” Once again, Jake’s response was predictable.

  Ruth laid down her fork and looked at Harriet, a question in her eyes. “It depends on what you mean by work.”

  “It’s simple. Everyone is going to contribute to this family.” No one would grow up like Father, believing that work was beneath his dignity. Harriet gave Jake a stern look before turning her attention to Sam and Daniel. “I imagine one of the farmers will hire you boys. There’s plenty to do in the fields.” And, unlike the people in Fortune, no one would look askance if the Kirk children took jobs. No one in Ladreville believed they were wealthy. Fortunately, there were no expectations—false or otherwise—here.

  When Jake groaned, Daniel grinned as he said, “Maybe we can play with the animals. I liked those goats we saw.”

  His brother shot him a scornful look. “Dummy. You don’t know anything. No one pays you to play with goats.”

  Though Harriet had been refilling the children’s glasses, she plunked the pitcher on the table and fixed her gaze on Jake. “That’s quite enough, Jake. There’s no reason to upset your brother.” At ten, Daniel idolized his oldest brother, and the harsh words had brought a flush to his cheeks.

  Harriet tried not to sigh. This was one of the problems she hoped their new home would resolve. Surely here Jake would revert to his former amiable self. The transformation, it appeared, would not be immediate.

  “Why shouldn’t I upset him?” Jake demanded. “You upset me. First you drag me away from my friends, then you announce you’re selling me into slavery.”

  On another day she might have been more patient, but today Harriet was tired and frustrated. It was one thing for Jake to be discontented, quite another for him to poison the others’ minds. “Not one more word out of you. Do you hear?”

  Though his expression was sullen, Jake nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What about me?” Mary asked, her little face contorted with confusion. “What am I going to do?”

  “You and Ruth will take care of the house and cook the meals.”

  The frown vanished, replaced by a brilliant smile. “Goody. Ruth can teach me to cook.”

  It appeared that Mary was the only member of the Kirk family who liked Harriet’s plan, for worry lines appeared between Ruth’s eyes. “You mean I have to go to the market?”

  Harriet had coddled Ruth, coddled all of them, for that matter, but it had to stop. “It’s about time you did. Staying inside isn’t good for you.” Or for the rest of the family. Though Harriet knew her sister was only shy, someone in Fortune had started the rumor that Ruth was touched in the head, the result of which had been that the majority of Fortune’s youngsters would no longer play with the Kirk children, lest they contract some unspeakable disease.

  Ruth’s lips tightened. “I wish we hadn’t come here.”

  “Me too.” Jake seconded his sister’s declaration.

  Though the others said nothing, Harriet sensed they were siding with Jake and Ruth. Had she made a mistake in believing they could start over here? It couldn’t be a mistake. She wouldn’t let it be, for there was no turning back.

  2

  “The big man’s here.” Though Harriet was just inside the door, Mary shouted as if she needed to be heard at the far end of the house.

  “His name is Mr. Wood,” Harriet explained as she shooed the rest of the family outside. He was indeed big, although it was rude of Mary to say so. Harriet studied the man who stood next to his palomino, noticing how the horse’s coat was almost the same shade as the mayor’s hair and wondering if that was the reason he’d chosen this particular stallion.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Wood,” Harriet said, continuing her appraisal as she approached him. Her first impressions had not been wrong. He was tall—at least a foot taller than she—and the muscles of his arms and shoulders were scarcely hidden by his chambray shirt and loose-fitting jacket. From his freshly polished boots to the top of his hat, this was a man who demanded attention. It wasn’t anything he said or even his expression; it was simply the way he stood, the almost imperious angle of his head combined with the seemingly casual way his hand remained close to his hip, ready to draw the six-shooter at the slightest provocation. Every inch of this man announced that he was a formidable force.

  He wasn’t only formidable. He was also handsome. Harriet didn’t claim to be an expert on men, and her experience with Thomas had taught her to look beyond a pretty face, but there was no doubt that Lawrence Wood was handsome. While many men adorned themselves with facial hair, at least a moustache if not a full beard, Ladreville’s mayor was clean-shaven, leaving no doubt that his features were finely chiseled. His jaw was firm and square, his cheekbones were well sculpted, and his nose was perfectly straight. But the dominant feature in the close-to-perfect face was his deep blue eyes. Right now those eyes were fixed on her. Thank goodness she saw no sign of pity in them.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Kirk. I see that you believe in punctuality.”

  Had he thought she’d keep him waiting? Though Harriet had heard of women doing that, she had always considered it the height of rudeness. “Does that surprise you?”

  “No, ma’am. Not at all.”

  Though his words were polite, his eyes were sparkling with something . . . could it be laughter? That was absurd. There was not
hing humorous about punctuality. Biting back the tart response that tickled the tip of her tongue, Harriet climbed into the wagon with her siblings. Though she normally drove the team, she had agreed that Jake could take the reins this afternoon. Perhaps that would improve his mood.

  “We’re going to the other side of the river,” Mr. Wood said as he mounted his horse. “Follow me.”

  “Say, mister, that’s a nice horse you’ve got,” Sam called out.

  The mayor slowed his pace to come alongside the wagon. “His name is Snip,” he told Sam. “When I saw the white mark between his nostrils, I knew that would be his name.”

  “How come?” Mary appeared fascinated by either the horse or the story.

  “That kind of marking is called a snip,” Mr. Wood explained. Oddly, though Mary had asked the question, he directed his words to Sam. “If it extended all the way up his face, it would be a blaze.”

  “I see.” Sam nodded solemnly.

  Harriet bit back a smile as she realized Lawrence Wood had given her siblings a short lesson on equine terminology. Though they complained when she took the opportunity to teach them something, they appeared to relish the mayor’s tutelage. Only Jake remained sullen.

  When they reached the end of Rhinestrasse and approached the Medina River, Jake scowled. “This town’s so backward it doesn’t have a bridge.”

  Surely it was Harriet’s imagination that the mayor, who’d been riding next to them, cringed, just as it must have been her imagination that, although he looked at the others, he had averted his eyes from Mary. Harriet looked at the water, assessing the level. “There’s no need for a bridge. The water’s not very deep.”

  Lawrence Wood shook his head. “That’s true most of the time, but summer rain can swell the river by more than a foot in the space of an hour. There’s no crossing it then.”