The corners of Pamela's lips twitched with a smile, and she shook her head.
Elizabeth tilted her head and tapped her finger alongside her mouth. "Let's just say that your mama sounds an awful lot like her mama this morning." She leaned over, hugged her friend, and they both laughed.
Lifting her hat from the chair, she placed it securely on her head and tied the blue ribbons under her chin. "I'm off to gather flowers."
#
In the garden, Elizabeth snipped the long stems of larkspur and laid each stalk in the basket, carried in the crook of her arm. Pamela always grew a large selection of larkspurs in colors varying from pale lavender, to blue, to purple, just for Lizzy's birthday.
How lucky Lizzy was to have such beautiful blooms for her July birthday. Elizabeth's January birthday flower was the snowdrop. It had always been difficult to gather enough of the tiny white blossoms to make the wreaths and decorations so important to a child's celebration.
Pamela and Elizabeth had spent days preparing, determined to celebrate this special birthday with all the hoopla a child's celebration in Boston received. Even the children had helped. Mark and Sara had addressed the birthday invitations given to all the children in town and nearby ranches and homesteads.
Nick would soon take the carriage to gather some of the children. The Camerons would bring more, and the rest would ride over.
She stooped to smell one of her favorite pink roses and inhaled its spicy-sweet scent. A smile played at her mouth. Last Sunday, Caleb had brought her a bouquet of these pink beauties. One of those roses still hung upside down in her room, a flower she'd plucked from the bouquet and dried to preserve as a special memory.
They'd invited Caleb to the party. He'd ordered a special doll from Boston for Lizzy, with brown curls and blue eyes. Elizabeth had commissioned a larkspur-blue silk dress from her dressmaker for her goddaughter, and also had the woman make a doll's dress in the same material. Caleb's doll, dressed in birthday blue, lay swathed in tissue paper and ruby ribbons on the bottom of Elizabeth's armoire.
She gave the rose another dreamy sniff. The doll was an extravagant gift for a non-family member to give a child--rather a message to Elizabeth that sometime soon he expected to become one of the family. Her body tingled at the thought. She hummed a dance tune, swaying as she strolled among the flowerbeds.
Carefully stuffing the last of the larkspur stalks into her overflowing basket, Elizabeth paused by the edge of the kitchen garden. In her first weeks at the ranch, she'd assisted Pamela and the children in planting the vegetables. Now she felt a proprietary interest in their progress. She'd enjoyed watching the tiny shoots push through the rich earth and ripen into plants. Eating produce she'd grown herself surpassed anything she'd eaten from the greengrocers in Boston.
The plants in the section of the garden assigned to little Lizzy straggled in uneven, crooked rows. The child loved her garden. Elizabeth often watched her happily playing in the dirt, and pulling up shoots to discover what was happening "underearth." It amazed Elizabeth that given Lizzy's ministrations, anything still managed to grow.
She stooped to straighten a green stem listing to the right, tucking the dirt firmly around the plant's roots. She brushed her fingers against her apron, uncaring of the earthen stain they left behind.
Straightening, she lifted her face to the sun. Like the plants, Elizabeth knew she had blossomed this spring, bursting forth like a flower from the hard, brown bulb she'd grown around herself. Day by day, her soul rooted into the Montana soil. From hothouse flower to Western wildflower... well she didn't think she'd actually ever become a wildflower. She touched a pink rose petal. Perhaps a Western rose.
Glancing at the sun, Elizabeth retraced her steps. She still had the flowers to arrange and wreaths to make. She wanted to have plenty of time left to bathe and dress. After all, even though it was Lizzy's birthday, Caleb would be here, and Elizabeth wanted to look her best.
#
Pamela set the cardboard crown covered with blossoms plucked from the larkspur stalks on Lizzy's dark curls. The children circling around them on the porch burst out clapping.
Pamela stepped back, proudly eyed her youngest daughter, then glanced around at the other guests. Each wore a paper cap and a larkspur boutonniere. "Now," Pamela said, "everyone line up in rows of four, and follow Lizzy down to the river." She motioned to Mark. "You and Sara go in the first row."
Elizabeth helped Pamela shepherd the children into the proper order. Then, while Nick played a merry march on his violin, Lizzy started out, hand-in-hand with her mother and father, to lead her birthday procession down to the river. As the children passed, the adults fell in line behind them.
Elizabeth, escorted by Caleb, a folded fan dangling from her wrist, held up the hem of her rose-colored silk dress so it wouldn't trail in the dirt.
Caleb smiled down at her. "I remember having parties like this with my cousins, but we didn't march in such orderly rows. There usually was quite a bit of scuffling and a jabbed elbow or two."
Elizabeth shook her head in mock disapproval. "Boys! Pamela's brothers and Lawrence did the same thing at parties." She smiled at the flower-crowned little figure, clad in her new blue silk dress, marching at the head of her parade. "Something about Lizzy makes everyone more gentle around her." She pointed with her chin. "Look, even the boys are behaving."
"You're right." His eyebrows lifted. "She's a special child." He glanced down and laid his other hand over hers. "I have become quite attached to her."
"Yes, I know. She's going to love the doll you bought." Elizabeth exhaled a blissful breath. She'd never felt happier. The pinpricks of worry over Lizzy's health had vanished, and she enjoyed the attention of handsome Caleb Livingston.
And, like her Richard who'd adored children, Caleb loved her goddaughter. She restrained herself from taking waltz steps. A few months ago she'd been miserable. How things had changed. Life in Montana was wonderful!
"I do believe Lizzy's Aunt Elizabeth loves that doll too." Caleb, his brown eyes warm with laughter, smiled down at her.
She gave an extravagant sigh. "Yes, I wish I'd known you when I was a little girl. I'd have adored a doll like that."
"Actually, you probably wouldn't have liked me. I'd have teased you just as much as your brother did. And I certainly wouldn't have given you a doll. Or if I did, I'd probably have chopped its head off first."
Stopping mid-step, she looked up at him, half in laughter, half in exasperation. "You boys! Once, when I was younger than Lizzy, Lawrence pulled all the arms and legs off my favorite doll, Gretchen." She resumed their walk.
Brandishing his arm like a sword, Caleb said, "I'll make sure to zealously guard Lizzy's doll from all masculine marauders--at least for today."
She squeezed his arm. "Then she's sure to be safe."
By this time they'd arrived at the river. There, on the rug taken from the dining room, stood a long trestle table covered with a white cloth and decorated with larkspurs. Wooden benches flanked each side. White linen sheets pinned with blue ribbons hung from the trees, and blue draperies covered the shrubs encircling the area--creating an enchanted outdoor bower.
After breakfast, John and Nick had sweated over moving the heavy dining room table and chairs in order to slide out the rug. They'd grumbled and teased the two women about "Boston" notions of a child's birthday party. But both Elizabeth and Pamela had been adamant--even though the party took place by the water where it would be cooler, the area still needed to look like a "room."
On the table, the white-frosted birthday cake, with Lizzy's name in blue icing and four white candles in the middle, held the place of honor. A few minutes earlier, Annie had carried down dainty sandwiches cut in triangles, tiny biscuits, individual molds of jelly, and small spice cakes with the name of each guest written on them in icing. Bonbons arranged in tiny wicker baskets nestled at each place.
Even though Pamela had fretted that a party without ice cream would be like breakfast w
ithout bread, they'd had to give up on the notion of fancy molded ice cream bombe; it would have melted long before the dessert reached the table. But John had assured her that with all the other goodies, the children would never know the difference.
With much oohing and ahing, the young guests found their places. The adults sat clustered together at one end of the table, Caleb next to Elizabeth and the Camerons on the other side of the Carters. Nick stood, playing tunes on his violin.
Amid the children's giggles, everyone quickly consumed the food. Pamela brought out Lizzy's cake, complete with lit candles. The child hesitated, puffed her cheeks with air, then blew out all four. Everyone clapped.
John reached over and hugged his wife, his face beaming with pride. Elizabeth exchanged glances with Pamela, and saw the same relief in her friend's eyes. They could stop worrying. Unlike Mary, Lizzy had survived to her fourth birthday.
After the meal, Lizzy unwrapped her presents, inspecting each with bright-eyed, but silent, wonder. It was Pamela who, on Lizzy's behalf, thanked each guest for the gift they'd given. When she opened Caleb's gift, Lizzy's eyes grew big. She clasped the doll to her chest, rocking her new baby back and forth. The adults laughed.
"See," Elizabeth murmured to Caleb. "I told you."
John clapped Caleb on the shoulder. "That doll takes first prize, Livingston. Her mother and I are sure obliged to you."
Pamela nodded in agreement. "We appreciate such a generous gift, Mr. Livingston. And since that doll's dress matches Lizzy's birthday dress, you and Elizabeth must have been in cahoots."
Caleb sent Elizabeth a conspirator's smile.
Elizabeth laughed. "Perhaps."
Only one wrapped parcel remained, but Lizzy, involved with her doll, ignored the other children's urging her to open it. The restless children got up from the table to play, and the adults wandered after them. The men gathered to talk business, while Mrs. Cameron oversaw the children in a game.
Seeing Caleb engrossed in conversation, Elizabeth drifted over to Nick, who'd continued playing throughout the party. When he concluded the song she said, "It's so nice of you to play for us, Nick."
Over the violin, his green eyes met hers. "It's a special day. I'm not sure who's enjoying herself more, Lizzy or her mama."
They exchanged a smile of understanding. Elizabeth's heartbeat quickened, and heat stole into her cheeks. Sliding her fan into her hand, she snapped it open and waved it back and forth.
"Look at Lizzy," Nick said. "She's finally ready to open my gift." He set his violin on the bench.
Lizzy laid her doll down on the table and picked up the last present. Unwrapping the paper, she pulled out a carved wooden horse.
"My pony!" She held it out to her mother. "Look, Mama."
Pamela looked at Nick. "I'll bet Nick carved that for you."
Lizzy looked in inquiry at Nick, who nodded back at her. She jumped up, ran over, and hugged his legs. "Thank you, Nick." She looked up at him with a sunny smile. "My pony is my bestest present."
Nick laughed, swung Lizzy up in his arms, and gave her a squeeze. She squealed and clung to him. He whirled around, eliciting a gleeful giggle.
Elizabeth watched their interaction with pleasure, and her heart turned over. How she'd loved it when her father had picked her up in that same way when she was a child.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mark's friend, George, sneak up to the table and snatch the doll. "Oh, no. Nick." She pointed. "George has taken Lizzy's doll."
Flourishing his prize overhead, George ran over to the group of boys tossing stones in the river.
Her mouth rounded with distress, Lizzy stretched out her hand. Nick handed the child over to Elizabeth. "Don't worry, little bird. I'll save your baby."
As George dangled the doll over the water, Lizzy wailed and clung tightly to Elizabeth.
"Everything will be just fine," Elizabeth assured Lizzy. "Nick won't let your baby go for a swim."
Nick grabbed George by the shoulder, then forced his arm away from the water. Much to Elizabeth's surprise, he didn't immediately take possession of the doll. Instead, he stood in front of George, holding both the boy's shoulders, and quietly spoke with him.
George hung his head and scuffed a booted foot in the grass, then looked up and answered.
Nick smiled and dropping a casual arm around George's shoulder, guided him over to Elizabeth and Lizzy. The boy held out the doll.
Lizzy reached both hands out, embraced her baby, then protectively cuddled it between her body and Elizabeth's.
Nick gave George a prompting push forward. "I'm sorry, Lizzy," the boy apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you."
With a small smile and slight nod, Lizzy indicated her forgiveness.
Turning George around, Nick indicated the other boys. "Go play," he ordered. "And stay out of trouble." George ran and joined the other children. "See, darlin'," Nick said to Lizzy. "Everything's fine with your baby."
Lizzy held an arm out to Nick, and Elizabeth transferred her over. Nick stroked the child's hair, and she laid her head on his shoulder.
What a tender picture they make. With a feeling of wistfulness, she glanced over at Caleb, and some of the bliss seeped from her day. Engrossed in his conversation with John and Dr. Cameron, he'd never even noticed the doll had been in peril.
So much for the defender against masculine marauders!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
For the second straight week, the August sun's rays scorched the valley. Not a single cloud drifted across the intense turquoise sky.
John engaged Nick in worried conversations about grazing and fodder for the winter. In the early morning, Pamela, Elizabeth, and the children carried pails of water to the garden to nourish the wilting plants.
During the midday heat, the women and children languished on the porch. Even Mark and Sara played quietly in the shade, while Lizzy drooped like a withered violet.
Elizabeth tossed the shirt she'd been mending into a wicker basket overflowing with clothes. "That's the last one, thank goodness." She leaned back in her rocking chair, picked up her fan, and made a futile effort to cool herself.
Pamela looked up from her embroidery. "Thank you, Elizabeth. It's the first time since the winter that we're caught up with all the mending."
"Glad to help." She wafted the fan harder.
Pamela set another careful stitch into a purple pansy. "Knowing your dislike of sewing, I'd have thought mending might bore you."
"It does. I don't know how you can calmly sit there and embroider for hours."
Her friend gave her a serene smile. "Why don't you try it?"
"Pamela, you know I'm not good at embroidery."
"Of course I know that. Remember who secretly finished your sampler for you?"
Elizabeth scrunched a face at her.
"Then there was that same piece of embroidery which you'd take out and pretend to work on whenever you were supposed to be showing off your ladylike accomplishments."
"That horrible thing. I hated it."
"Did you ever finish it after I left?"
"I finally threw it away." She gave a rueful laugh. "That's the nice thing about being an adult. No one makes me embroider."
"Just don't tell Sara," Pamela said with a slight toss of her head toward the end of the porch, where Mark and Sara played a game of checkers. "It's difficult enough to get her to work on her sampler."
Elizabeth glanced at Sara, the rag doll cuddled on her lap. "Have her make a new dress for Catherine."
"Maybe that will work," Pamela said. "Clinging to that doll is about the only feminine behavior she exhibits."
"Well, I'm sure Lizzy will take after her mama."
Both women looked over at the child asleep on a cushion. Sweat dampened tendrils curled around a face flushed with heat. Even in slumber she clutched her wooden pony.
"I'm going to start teaching her next winter."
"Winter. It's hard to believe snow will be deeper than this porch."
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"Believe it," Pamela said with a tired sigh. "We'll be so cold that we'll reminisce about this unusual heat wave. I wish you had a better introduction to our regular summer weather." She scanned the brilliant sky, looking for any sign of a cloud. "I hope it breaks soon. John's afraid we'll have a drought."
"Here comes your husband now."
As John approached, dust puffed up with each step he took, powdering his tan pants a darker brown. Reaching the shelter of the porch, he paused to pull a blue bandana from his pocket, and wiped his face. "We've finally gotten all the cattle into the north pasture. With the increased shade and water there, they should be all right."
Lizzy had awakened at the sound of his voice. "Papa," she murmured, stretching a hand to him.
John sat down in the chair next to Lizzy, leaned over and brushed the damp hair off her face. "Would my little bird like to turn into a little fish?"
Lizzy gave him a puzzled look. He glanced over at his wife. "How about taking a picnic down to the swimming hole?"
"What a marvelous idea." Pamela straightened in her chair. "I've been wanting to, but I knew you and Nick were too busy."
"I've sent Nick to get his bathing things." He lifted an eyebrow. "What do you think, Elizabeth?"
"Just putting my feet in the water sounds heavenly."
John raised his voice. "Mark, Sara, shall we go for a swim?"
Both children scrambled up and hurried over.
"Now? Can we go now?" Mark asked, his expression pleading.
John laughed and ruffled his hair. "Soon as you're ready."
Both children charged off into the house.
Pamela folded her embroidery, placed it in the sewing basket, then stood up. "I'll go tell Annie to pack a picnic basket. Elizabeth, why don't you help me gather up some towels and blankets to sit on?" She stepped over and placed a loving hand on her husband's cheek. "We'll be ready in a few minutes."
#
At the sight of the swift green water bubbling over mossy rocks, Elizabeth sighed with relief. During the long hot walk, she had to force her tired feet to keep to the pace of the others. She shifted the bundle of blankets she held in her arms and tried to restrain her eagerness. The days since she'd come to Montana had flown by, and she'd not been back to the water as she'd promised herself the day she and Nick had ridden by the river.
Wild Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) Page 19
