Left in the middle of the room, Adela turned in a circle. That was it? Not only was Mrs. Calhoun not welcoming, Adela sensed hostility in the woman. Should she go find her, try to make conversation? Go to the room Byron indicated was to be hers? Since she couldn’t decide, she stayed rooted where she was.
Byron came back with her trunk hefted on his shoulder and carrying her carpetbag in his hand. She followed.
He set her luggage just inside the bedroom door and moved aside to allow her to enter. It was a comfortable room. Blue checkered curtains fluttered in a breeze at the open window. An oak frame bed stood in the middle with matching highboy and table with washbasin and pitcher. A rag rug lay beside the bed and a rocking chair at the window. A small bookshelf ran along the wall.
Byron looked decidedly uncomfortable, whether from being in a bedroom with the woman he planned to court, or because she wasn’t what he’d expected, she couldn’t tell.
His shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. “Well, I’ll let you get settled. Come back to the parlor when you’ve a mind. I expect Ma’s still in the kitchen. She’ll likely be starting supper soon. If you need anything, just let us know.” He backed out the door before she could say a word.
Chapter 6
Byron went in search of Ma, calling himself all sorts of stupid oafs. He’d wanted to say so much to Adela, things he’d waited all summer to say, and now he couldn’t get two words out that sounded half way intelligent. And Ma was no help, rushing off to the kitchen the minute she met Adela.
Ma was standing at the table with canisters of flour, sugar, and lard beside a large blue bowl. Peeling an apple, she didn’t look up. “Did Miss Mason get settled?”
“I guess she’s in the process. Couldn’t you have been a little more friendly? Seeing as how she’s going to be your daughter-in-law. I’ve seen you welcome stray cats with more warmth.”
Ma gave him a sharp glance. “I figured after a long journey a body would want to rest and get acquainted with her surroundings.”
Maybe that was true. Byron picked the dangling apple peel from the knife and popped it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for several seconds. “She’s very pretty, isn’t she?”
Ma continued paring. “Guess she’s right presentable, but I always thought the women around here to be pretty.”
Byron shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Having apple pie for supper?” At least they’d give Adela a good meal.
Ma swiped her nose with the back of her hand. “What’s that I smell? Did you fall in the pig sty?”
“Just as bad. I fell in a mud puddle in town. Ruined my pants. Hope you can get them cleaned up before Sunday.”
She put the apples aside and began measuring out the flour and lard. He wondered if Adela could cook. Her station in life was serving the high class, and maybe she’d be tired of that and wouldn’t even want to cook, but he hoped she’d take a hankering for it. He liked good food. Maybe Ma could teach her.
It occurred to him Adela didn’t have anything to occupy her during her visit. He reckoned she liked to visit folks, but she didn’t know anyone here—yet. “When do you guess we can hold the shucking and taffy pull?”
“Too early yet and too hot. Don’t we usually have it after the hog killing, near Thanksgiving, if I recollect.”
That would be too late. Adela needed to meet folks…but there was church. “Don’t guess there’s any reason we couldn’t have the shucking and taffy pull early this year, though.”
Ma started rolling out the pie crust. “Don’t guess so. We can ask Hilda Jane what she thinks. She’s joining us for supper.”
A lump formed in his throat and fell clear to his stomach. “Hilda Jane’s coming for supper tonight? You didn’t tell me that. I saw her in town, and she didn’t mention it.”
“I’m telling you now. She’s coming to pick up the extra milk tonight anyway.” Since the Lynstrums’ cow went dry, they’d been getting their milk from Byron. He had two milk cows and they produced enough to spare.
Ma sifted sugar over the apples. “I thought it’d be a good time to introduce her to our houseguest. What was her name? You didn’t tell me until last week, and I forget.”
“Adela Mason. Why did you invite Hilda Jane?” Yes, he wanted Adela to meet some people, but Hilda Jane wasn’t one of them. “Just Hilda Jane? Her pa’s not coming?”
“No, he’s working late with the corn crop. Hilda Jane’s going to take him a basket.” Ma sprinkled in cinnamon and laid the top crust on the pie. “You better get to your chores too, hadn’t you?”
He did. Mucking out the stalls, feeding the horses, milking the cows. Lem was still in the fields and would be given out when he came in. Besides Byron still had to bathe and dress in clean clothes before supper. But no need to do that until after chores.
Chapter 7
Adela couldn’t find a closet or wardrobe, but she hung several dresses on the pegs driven into the wall. Her clothes were too fancy for the country. She didn’t miss the difference in her attire and the way women dressed out here.
There was little she could do about it. When she’d join the Annex group, Lady Gaylenshire, their sponsor, had insisted the ladies dress professionally. That meant rich fabrics in the styles featured in Harper’s Bazaar. Adela wondered if she might buy some calico and sew herself a couple of everyday dresses. What she wouldn’t give for Ramee’s help. Ramee designed and sewed all their dresses. She had dreams of selling her designs one day.
Adela had helped Ramee and knew she could manage to sew a simple frock for herself. It occurred to her Byron would be busy much of the day, and it would be up to her to occupy herself. She intended to learn how to cook and do the chores expected of a farm woman.
After she’d finished her unpacking, she left her room and walked back into the parlor. The smell of baking drew her through the closed door of what she suspected must be the kitchen.
Mrs. Calhoun was alone, chopping carrots and onions. She glanced up at the soft thud of the closing door. “You find everything you needed, Miss Mason?”
“Oh, yes ma’am, but could you call me Adela? I’d much prefer it.”
“All right.” She didn’t give Adela any preferences for her name, so Mrs. Calhoun it would be.
“Can I help you with anything?”
“No, I’ve about got everything going.”
“The pie smells delicious.”
“It’s middling, I guess. Apples not tart enough for my liking.”
“Apple pie is one of my favorites. Which does By…Mr. Calhoun like?”
“He likes all of them, I’d say.” Mrs. Calhoun dumped the vegetables in a stew pot and hustled about making coffee. She didn’t look like she had everything going, but was obviously one of those women who didn’t like another in her kitchen. That didn’t bode well for Adela learning how to cook Byron’s favorite dishes. She stood by the kitchen table with her hands clasped in front of her, feeling in the way.
Mrs. Calhoun put the coffee pot on and took her pie out. “Why don’t you go on back in the parlor and rest until supper. Hilda Jane Lynstrum will be here soon. She’s about your age, so I expect you gals will find a lot to talk about.”
Adela’s rival. “Miss Lynstrum is dining with us?”
“That’s right. I thought it’d be a good idea for you two to get to know each other.”
Adela didn’t know what to say to that. If Mrs. Calhoun knew her son had been interested in this Hilda Jane Lynstrum yet had advertised for a bride, then she must know he’d lost interest in Hilda Jane. Or at least Adela hoped so.
Before she could think of some retort, a knock sounded on the back door. Adela hoped that was Byron, though he’d not likely need to knock.
Mrs. Calhoun opened the door, and a young blonde woman ambled in, carrying a pail filled with milk. “I decided to stop by the barn and get my milk. Don’t let me forget it when I leave.”
“Come in, dearie. I’ll put it in the icebox for you.” After Mrs. Calhoun had put t
he milk away, she gave Hilda Jane a hug. “Let me introduce you to Miss Mason. She’ll be staying with us for a spell.”
A touch of malice showed in Hilda Jane’s striking amber eyes, but her smile seemed genuine. She nodded her golden head. “Delighted to meet you, Miss Mason. Bertha told me you’re from Massachusetts. What could possibly bring you out here to little ole Crabapple, Kansas?”
Adela flushed. She was pretty certain Mrs. Calhoun had told Hilda Jane why she was here. If Hilda Jane had broken a courtship with Byron, was she having second thoughts? Adela had known girls to reject suitors, then try to wrest them from another girl just for spite. Since she didn’t know what the situation was, she decided to be noncommittal. “I wanted to see the prairie. I’ve read so much about it and its lovely farming communities. I grew up on a farm, you see.” Half-way grown up, anyway.
“Well, I hope you have time to visit with Pa and me before you leave.” The way she said it, she had no doubt Adela would be leaving.
“Hilda Jane, would you stir the stew while I get the bread going?” Mrs. Calhoun asked. Apparently now that Hilda Jane was here, Mrs. Calhoun decided she could use help.
Like someone who knew her way around the kitchen, Hilda Jane went to a cupboard drawer and pulled out a wooden spoon. “I got my new dress almost finished. You are coming over to help me pin it, aren’t you?”
“Of course, honey. Anytime.” Mrs. Calhoun started ladling out cornmeal from a canister. “Would you bring me that pot of bacon grease? I thought I’d make cornbread tonight.”
“I’ve always loved cornbread with stew.” Adela tried to enter the conversation.
Both women ignored her. Hilda Jane put the bacon grease on the table and held a spoon in midair. “Don’t be surprised if Pa pops in while we’re working on the dress. I told you he’s sweet on you.”
Mrs. Calhoun laughed. “Go on with you. You know me and Clint are both too set in our ways.”
Now Adela was interested in the interchange. Would she be losing a new mother before she even gained one? Is that why Byron needed a wife? Just to keep house when his mother left.
Hilda Jane turned her attention back to the stew. “I know my pa and I know you pretty well. You’ll be married before Christmas.”
“Stop that and move out of my way.” Mrs. Calhoun playfully slapped Hilda Jane’s arm. “Let me get this cornbread in the oven.”
Adela hadn’t felt as much like a wallflower since her first social. She backed out of the kitchen, knowing the women wouldn’t miss her. She hoped Byron would come in by way of the parlor so she could get a few words alone with him.
She was disappointed. Byron came in the back way and appeared only to escort her in to supper. Before they were seated, Byron introduced her to an older man dressed in overalls and plaid shirt. “Miss Mason, this is Lem. He helps out around the place.”
“Pleased to meet you, little lady.” Lem nodded as they all found their seats. Byron held Adela’s chair. Both Hilda Jane and Mrs. Calhoun were already seated.
Byron took his seat at the head and delivered the grace. Even before they were all served, Hilda Jane dominated the conversation. She questioned Lem about the corn crop then moved easily into a discussion with Mrs. Calhoun about the sewing circle.
It seemed to Adela each time Byron opened his mouth to speak, Hilda Jane had something else to say. Maybe that’s why he’d ended his courtship with her. The young woman couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
The stew was delicious, but Adela had lost her appetite, if she had one to begin with. Not one thing had happened yet that made her feel welcome or comfortable. She sat pondering her situation and was surprised when Hilda Jane directed a comment to her. “Your dress is striking, Miss Mason. What color is it? I saw Sadie Jenkins in that same color the other day.”
Surely Hilda Jane was joking. No one could mistake the color of her dress. “It’s pink. Is Sadie Jenkins a friend of yours?” Adela hoped she might have something in common with at least one woman in this town.
“I should say not. Sadie deals cards in back of the Watering Hole Saloon.”
Heat burned Adela’s face until she knew it must be at least two shades darker than a poppy. Finding some calico to make herself a few everyday frocks became her top priority. A lump formed in her throat, and she felt moisture gathering in her eyes. She grabbed her water glass as if it were a lifeline and gulped as Hilda Jane went off into another description of the dress she was making for the church social.
Adela hazarded a glimpse to Byron, and their eyes met. “I think your dress is lovely,” he said so low no one else would have heard him over Hilda Jane drivel.
The look and the compliment warmed her all the way to her fingertips, and her lips wobbled into a smile. “Thank you.” If they had been alone, she could think of so much more to say. Instead, she turned her attention back to her food and let her mind go over the situation.
She wasn’t concerned about Hilda Jane. The woman was as transparent as a newly washed window pane. As a rival, a woman scorned posed no danger.
Byron’s mother was another matter entirely. How could Adela live with someone who held such obvious dislike? She would not only have to win Byron’s affection, she’d have to win over Mrs. Calhoun as well.
“I couldn’t eat another bite.” Lem’s chair scrapped the wood floor as he pushed back.
“Oh, I bet you could find room for some pie,” Mrs. Calhoun said. “Hilda Jane, be a dear, and get the pie out of the safe…oh, and grab the knife.”
Hilda Jane cut and served the pie, then sat down to another round of discussing the merits of apple versus cherry pie.
Adela toyed with her overly large piece. Then something Hilda Jane said caught her attention. “I should be getting on back home with Pa’s supper. He’s probably hungry as a bear by now. Byron, could you bring the milk out to the buckboard. I have to carry the basket.”
Mrs. Calhoun began gathering the dishes. “Byron, you’ll have to escort her home. It’s full dark out by now. I declare the days are getting shorter and shorter.”
Adela sighed. She wouldn’t get a chance to speak to Byron alone tonight. “Let me help you with the dishes, Mrs. Calhoun.”
“No, that’s all right.” Mrs. Calhoun dismissed that with a wag of her dishcloth. “You’d ruin your dress. If I was you, I’d run along to bed. Mornings come early on the farm.”
Lem rose from his chair and snapped his overall straps. “Mighty fine meal, Mrs. C.” He looked Byron’s way. “I’d be glad to see Miss Hilda Jane home. ‘Spect you’d like a little time with Miss Adela before retiring for the night.”
Everyone sent searching glances to Byron whose face showed bewilderment before breaking into a wide grin. “Thank you, Lem. I appreciate it.”
Lem placed his worn hat on his head and took the milk pail from Byron. “I’ll be waiting for you by your buckboard, Miss Hilda Jane. See the rest of you in the morning.” As he passed Adela, he winked.
Surprised, she sent the rugged farm hand a shy smile. She’d found at least one advocate here.
Chapter 8
Byron pulled Adela’s chair out. “Would you like to join me on the porch for some fresh air?” He said it loud enough for Ma to hear. As he expected, she let the dishes soak and followed them into the parlor. She’d sit in her chair by the open window so she could hear everything that was said on the porch.
He didn’t object to that. Nothing untoward must happen while Adela was visiting. Knowing Ma, nothing would.
They stepped onto the porch’s wooden planks, and Adela went to hold onto the railing. He followed her gaze up at the sky. All the clouds had dissolved, and the sky was a black velvet blanket spangled with a million stars.
“Oh how beautiful.” She breathed the words as he watched the lovely slope of her neck.
He leaned a hip against the railing and pulled his glance from her to scan the sky. Both she and the heavens were beautiful. “We have a lot of nights like this in the autumn. It is a little nippy
, though. Are you cold?” She hadn’t taken a wrap.
She hugged herself. “No, I find it exhilarating. Strange—I know this same sky hangs over Cambridge, but I’ve hardly noticed it before now.”
“Might be because we don’t have many trees to obstruct the view.”
Sending him a sidelong glance, she smiled. “I believe you’re right.”
Byron looked back to the window, not finding Ma’s shadow in view. Good. There was something he had to say, and it should be private. “I apologize for Hilda Jane’s behavior tonight. I should have warned you.”
“Did you court her at one time?”
He was a little surprised at her bold question but glad he could set her mind at ease. “No, never. I’m not the only fellow Hilda Jane goes after. She’s—” A shadow fell over the light coming through the curtain-less window, and he knew he’d said enough for now. “Let’s sit a spell. I’d like to hear about the farm you grew up on.”
They took the two rocking chairs on either side of the window. Adela nudged her chair into a gentle sway. “I probably only remember the good things—calves and chicks in the spring, freshly plowed earth, swinging from an oak tree, making a playhouse under the elderberry bushes. But as I wrote, I was only ten when my parents died. That’s when I had to go live with my aunt and uncle.”
“I remember all those things from my childhood,” Byron said, then added, “except for the playhouse, but my pals and I played like we were cowboys on a cattle drive.”
Adela sounded a delightful little laugh. “Even boys in the city pretend to be cowboys. At least you had real cows to drive.”
“A few. If Pa hadn’t passed on, I was going to start a small ranch for wayward boys.”
This interested Adela enough so that she stopped rocking. Something made him want to tell her his dreams. “We have a few troublesome lads the church has been trying to help. Pastor Reinhart says it’s the church’s first duty to care for the widows and orphans, and these boys are orphans of a sort.”
The Annex Mail-Order Brides: Preque (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 0) Page 4
