by Linda Ford
What did she mean? She was the heiress Isabelle Redfield. According to her lawyer, who was trustee of the funds, she had a lot of money and taking care of it took a lot of work. But somehow her lawyer had done it without her input for years. She saw no reason he couldn’t continue to do so. She wouldn’t have access to the money she’d inherited until she turned twenty-five or married. But being in charge of a vast amount of money meant nothing to her.
She wanted to do something that had meaning for her.
She managed to make a satisfying lunch…again because of the food supplied by others. It didn’t take long to sweep the floors and dust the shelves. As she worked, she tried to think what she would make for the next meal. If only she had a book…
That gave her an idea. Surely there would be one at the store. With money in her pocket, she headed across the street to the Marshall Mercantile store and stepped inside. At once, a myriad of smells assaulted her. Most of them she couldn’t identify but they carried hints of men at work. Her gaze lit on an array of hammers, shovels and axes.
Immediately she pictured Dawson swinging an ax as he deftly chopped wood. Had he been the one, or one of those, who’d filled the woodshed at the doctor’s house? Maybe he would come by again to replenish their supply. No. She was certain he wouldn’t. At least, not if he thought she’d be there. He’d made his opinion of her quite evident. She shook her head, trying to drive away those foolish thoughts, and shifted her gaze to a different display. Several oil lamps and, farther along, tins that would be used to carry the coal oil.
“May I help you?” A man’s voice drew her attention to the other side of the store where household items filled the shelves. She knew him to be Dawson’s uncle George. They’d been introduced yesterday. He was another big man.
She made her way to the counter. “I expect my request is rather odd.” After all, the women out here would know how to prepare meals and baked goods. “Is it possible you have a book to help me learn how to cook and bake and all those other things I need to know?”
The man gave her a kindly look. “Your mother didn’t teach you?”
“No. She died when I was young and my cousin gave me a home.” No need to add that neither home saw the need for her to learn such skills. Instead, her lessons had included doing fancy needlework, reading the classics, proper etiquette and learning to be a refined young lady. Of course, those lessons were of value, but they left her ill-equipped to manage a household on her own, and she was determined to run the house for Kate and her father.
“I’m sorry about your mother but I might have a book that will help you. If I can just remember where I put it.” He ducked down to paw through the contents of the cupboard beneath the counter. “Never thought I’d be able to sell the book, so I stuck it away somewhere.” His voice echoed as he dug further into the shelves. “Ah, yes. Here it is.” He straightened, turned to one side to blow dust from the book. “A Guide to Practical Housewifery. Think that will do?” He handed her the volume.
She opened it to the index and read some of the chapter headings. Soup. Fish. Oysters. Meat. Several kinds of cakes. Food for the Sick. Remedies. Other Practical Matters. She flipped through a few pages. The instructions looked easy to follow, as if written for someone in her situation. “It’s perfect. I’ll take it. How much?”
He named a sum that she found more than satisfactory, and she counted out the coins to pay him.
From the back room, Isabelle heard the murmur of Sadie’s voice. Sadie had convinced everyone that a temporary classroom could be set up in the back room of the store and within a couple of hours the transformation had been wrought.
“Did all the expected students come for classes?” Isabelle asked.
“Only a few showed up this morning but she has a full house this afternoon. It’s rather pleasant to have the children traipse through the store and to hear their voices.”
A child’s voice reached them and Isabelle cocked her head toward the sound. “Is that Mattie?”
Mr. Marshall nodded. “She’s a special little girl.” He studied the door leading to the temporary classroom. “We’ve all done our best to give her a good life but the child needs a mother.”
“Doesn’t she have Annie?”
“Don’t get me wrong. Annie does well. But doesn’t she deserve a life of her own? That girl is barely more than a child herself and has spent four years taking care of her father and brothers, not to mention Grandfather. And Mattie on top of it.”
He shook his head. “You know, a number of unmarried women have tried to earn Dawson’s interest but he rebuffs them. That man needs to forget how his wife treated him and realize not all women are like that. But then, I shouldn’t be gossiping like an old woman, should I?” He turned his attention back to her purchase. “Would you like this wrapped?”
She started to say no, but a horse rode by and she automatically glanced out the window. She didn’t care to have everyone in town know what she’d bought. “Yes, please.” It took but a moment for Mr. Marshall to wrap the book and hand it to her.
“I wish you all the best,” he said with a kindly smile.
As she made her way across the street, she mulled over the storekeeper’s words. What did he mean about Dawson’s wife?
Not that it was any of her concern. She had other things to occupy her mind, and she hurried into the house, where she went immediately to the kitchen, sat down and began to study her new book.
Thankfully, the kitchen windows faced the alley, so she couldn’t see Dawson and the other man working on the school.
But with every ring of a hammer, every shush-hushing of a saw cutting through wood, with every muted sound of one man talking to the other, she thought of him and wondered about his marriage.
Forcing her attention back to the book before her, she chose what she meant to make and gathered together the ingredients.
Later in the day, a tray of oatmeal cookies cooled on the table and Isabelle smiled with satisfaction. She’d prepared vegetable soup for supper and it simmered on the stove.
If only she had someone to share her success with, but Kate and her father had gone out of town to attend an injured miner. A glance at the clock over the doorway showed the time had come for the children to be released from school, and she hurried to the window overlooking the street and watched as, one by one or in groups of two or more, the children ran from the store, laughing and calling to each other.
Mattie exited, chattering away to the girl at her side. Isabelle curled her hands. All these cookies should be enjoyed by a child returning from school.
She turned away and carefully put the cookies into containers. She tried not to think of Mattie and how much she’d enjoyed putting the child to bed, tucking her in just as her mother once tucked her in. For a moment she’d dreamed of spending more time with Mattie, but Dawson’s warning made that impossible. Isabelle was not the kind of woman he wanted Mattie to associate with. What had she done to make him judge her so harshly?
*
School was over and Mattie ran across the street to join Dawson.
When he rose this morning he had hoped he could escape to the hills but Grandfather had had other ideas.
“Miss Young suggested she start holding classes in the back room of the store. Seems a reasonable idea. Ride on in and let George know. Help him arrange things. And seeing as your brothers are away, get back to construction on the school.”
He’d protested, reminded his grandfather of the cow herd he needed to look after, pointed out that the work didn’t require the presence of a Marshall. He might as well have talked to one of the empty chairs. In the end he did as Grandfather said simply because he figured the sooner he did so, the sooner he could ride out to check on his cows. Mattie had demanded to go with him to town because she didn’t want to miss the opening of school.
Uncle George thought turning his storeroom into a classroom was a good idea. He, Dawson, Sadie and a couple of others hanging about the store had
the room cleaned out in less than an hour and set six tables and a dozen chairs in place. Uncle George had arranged some empty shelves and Sadie placed her books on them.
There hadn’t been time to notify everyone, but word got around, and after lunch the town children were all in attendance.
He should be pleased at the resumption of classes, but it meant Mattie would be in town, where she would see Isabelle Redfield far too often. His brows knotted. Why did that name seem familiar? He searched his memory but could think of no reason.
Dawson had spent the day working on the school, which, unfortunately, stood next door to the doctor’s house, allowing him plenty of opportunity to observe the coming and going of people seeking medical attention. Doc and Kate would be busy. How did Isabelle spend her time? His gaze went often to the wooden wall.
He’d pretended not to watch when she dumped wash water on the two bushes someone had planted to replace those destroyed by the fire. He told himself he needed to stretch his back when he straightened to observe her fetch some pieces of wood for the stove. He had to order his feet not to run over and offer to help. But when she went out the front door and crossed the street, his hands grew still. His eyes followed her every step. Did she look both ways to make sure no wagon or horse bore down on her? He eased out a sigh when she stepped into the store. Someone needed to keep an eye on her.
With a groan of frustration he realized he had been doing exactly that and bent over his work. But mentally he counted the moments until he heard the door across the street squeak open and had to check and see if Isabelle returned.
She’d stood on the steps of the store, smiling at the package in her hand. What had she purchased in Uncle George’s store that brought such a pleased look to her face? Not that he cared. He hoped he’d made himself clear on that matter.
Then she’d picked up her skirts and stepped into the street, pausing to let a wagon go by.
Dawson had waited until she disappeared into the house then measured the board for the schoolhouse wall. He measured again to be certain then turned to mark the piece of wood on the sawhorse. What were the measurements? He took the tape and again stretched it out. This time he promised himself he would not be distracted by wondering what Isabelle did all day long behind the walls of the house next door.
He cut the wood, more than a little relieved when it fit perfectly, and nailed it into place. Only one other man had joined him in the work and the sound of his hammer echoed Dawson’s. He let that thud drive all wayward thoughts from his head throughout the afternoon.
Now that school was out and Mattie with him, he would be able to concentrate better.
He swung Mattie in the air. “Hey, little one. How was school?”
“Fun. I like Miss Young. You know what she said?” Mattie rushed on with her own answer. “If I do my work well and keep my shelf tidy, there will be a surprise for me. Well, for all of us. She put a gold star on my printing. Said it was very neat. And she read us a real nice story about a crippled boy and his horse. She said she would read a chapter every day.” Mattie let out a long sigh as if she had been holding back this information for a long time.
“I’m pleased you had a good day. Now play out of the way while I finish work.” He could put in another two hours before it was time to go home and Mattie was good about amusing herself.
“Can I go over to the doctor’s house?”
She meant could she go see Isabelle. They’d had this discussion on the way to town. He did not want Mattie going there. He now reiterated what he had told her earlier.
“You haven’t been invited, so you have to stay here.”
With a little sigh, she went to the corner of the yard that butted up to the doctor’s yard and sat cross-legged on the scraped ground. Soon the grass would grow back but, for now, the ground was bare. Mattie would get dirty but he couldn’t expect her to keep clean while she played here.
He turned his attention back to the construction, glancing up often to check on Mattie. She collected an assortment of wood chips and charred wood and arranged them around her, then sat and stared at the doctor’s house. He studied her. Could she see in the kitchen window? Did she see Isabelle? He could hardly forbid her to watch the house…though he would if it was possible. Having to work beside the doctor’s house provided far too many opportunities for Mattie to hope for a glimpse of her.
Isabelle had been all Mattie talked about on their ride to town. “Miss Isabelle tucked me in real good. She pulled the covers to my chin and snuggled them tight to my side. She said I was like a little cocoon. She said her mama used to do that for her. She sounded sad when she said that because both her mama and papa are dead.” Mattie had grown quiet.
He hadn’t known that, and for a moment his feelings softened.
A lonely note filled Mattie’s voice when she spoke again. “I think she’s sad. She told me she never quit missing her mama. It’s like a little shadow that follows her everywhere.”
He wondered if Mattie had absorbed some of Isabelle’s sadness. His determination rebounded. He must make sure the woman never again got a chance to talk to Mattie alone, but before he could think how he would stop it, Mattie laughed. “She tickled me and made me giggle.”
He should never have let Isabelle put Mattie to bed and wouldn’t have except for the glowering presence of his grandfather.
He glanced up and stared. Mattie had disappeared.
His heart kicking into a gallop, he straightened and looked around. His lungs released suddenly as he saw her picking through the sack of nails. They tightened again when she put nails between her teeth.
“Mattie.” He kept his voice much calmer than he felt for fear she’d suck in a nail. “Please don’t put nails in your mouth.”
“Why? You do.”
“I’m an adult.”
She gave him a look he had not seen before. He could only describe it as disbelief laced with accusation. Then she stalked back to the corner, where she planted her arms over her chest with a little huff.
A minute later, when he again checked on her, she had again disappeared.
He circled the building and found her climbing on the stack of lumber. A board slipped and she teetered. He crossed the remaining few feet in seconds and caught her.
“Mattie, please stay off the wood. You could be hurt.” He set her on the ground.
She dusted herself off and, with head high, marched away to the far corner of the yard and he returned to his work.
He barely took his eyes off her before she was again out of sight. He closed his eyes and calmed his frustration before he went in search of her. He circled the school twice and didn’t see her. This was so unlike his daughter he didn’t know what to make of it.
“Have you seen Mattie?” he asked of the other man, who had nailed a whole lot more boards to his side of the building than Dawson had on his.
“Yeah, she just went by.” He nodded in the direction he meant.
Dawson continued circling the building. But Mattie stayed ahead of him or behind him, purposely avoiding him, causing him to waste time.
He changed direction and waited at a corner hoping to catch her. He heard a little giggle and tensed. As soon as she stepped into sight, he scooped her up.
She squealed. “You scared me.” But rather than laugh, she frowned.
“Mattie, I have work to do. Stop playing games.” He set her down and returned to the piece of wood he meant to saw into the proper length.
A few minutes later he wasn’t surprised to glance up and find her gone. Instead of looking for her, he put his tools away and went to speak to the other man.
“I’m headed home.”
The man looked at the sun. “Early, ain’t it?”
“Gotta take Mattie home.”
“We ain’t getting much help on this, are we?” He tipped his head to the partially finished building. “Teacher and kids deserve a schoolhouse, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m doing my best.” No rea
son he should feel he had to defend himself and yet he did.
“Maybe you could find someplace for your daughter to go after school.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He’d ask Annie to come to town and pick her up. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
He found Mattie hiding behind the lumber. “Come on. We’re going home.”
Without a word, she fell in at his side but shied away when he reached for her hand. “Mattie, it isn’t like you to act this way.” She didn’t answer and remained surprisingly quiet on the way home.
Over dinner, he asked Annie, “Could you ride into town and pick up Mattie after school so I don’t have to leave off work until later?”
She stared at him. “I could if I had nothing else to do but I’m rather busy that time of day. And every day,” she added softly.
Guilt stole up his insides, especially when Grandfather looked at him so accusingly.
Annie continued. “I’m sure there is someone in town who could help you out.”
Grandfather nodded. “Why not ask that nice Miss Isabelle? I like that gal. She’s got spunk. I could tell that the first time I saw her.”
“Why, that’s an excellent idea,” Annie said.
Dawson took note of the way she and Grandfather smiled at each other. Had they been conspiring together? He could tell them not to bother but what was the use? Neither would change their minds on his behalf.
“Oh, please, Papa. I’d like to stay with her.”
He hated that Mattie sounded so hopeful. “I’ll find someone in town. Maybe one of the older girls.” He returned to his meal.
“You know, Miss Isabelle reminds me of your grandmother.”
“So you said.” Dawson barely remembered his grandmother but had grown up listening to tales of her efficiency and bravery. How she raised the finest chickens in the country and butchered two every Saturday for Sunday dinner. He could not see a city girl like Isabelle doing that. Grandfather had told the boys how Grandmother had helped him put in the crop one year when he’d injured his hand badly and other stories, like— Well, never mind. “Grandmother was no city girl.”
