Calico Brides

by Darlene Franklin

  Laughing, Haydn refilled his grandfather’s bowl. “Do you want me to heat it up for you?”

  “Nah.” The word scraped the bottom of Grandfather’s throat. He spooned more stew into his mouth. “Her stew is good even when it’s cold.”

  Haydn sat down across from his grandfather. Questions spun through his mind, ones he didn’t know how to ask.

  Grandfather took longer on the second bowl. Haydn pushed a piece of pie across the table. “Help me eat the pie she sent over yesterday.”

  Grandfather lifted the plate and stared at the filling. “This calls for some cream.” His eyes gleamed with pleasure, and he went to the icebox. He brought out a small bottle of cream. “Betcha thought I didn’t know where to find it.”

  “You sound like you’ve had her pie before.”

  Grandfather set down his fork. “She kept the house going when your grandmother was sick.” The bleak expression on his face told Haydn not to intrude on his memories. Sure enough, he changed the subject. “Keep going to the diner. That place is gossip central. A good place for a newspaperman to pick up on local news.”

  Haydn hadn’t accepted his grandfather’s offer to start a newspaper—yet. But it wouldn’t hurt to learn more about the town. Gladys had occupied so much of Haydn’s attention that he hadn’t noticed much happening around him. The next time he returned, he would have to open his eyes and ears.

  Grandfather began to cough in midbite, spitting out crumbs of pie in the process. He gestured wildly. Haydn poured him a glass of water, and he gulped it down. “More.” The word came out as a croak. Haydn emptied the pitcher before the coughs subsided.

  Grandfather pushed away the plate, the slice of pie half-eaten. “That teaches me to accept handouts.”

  “You can’t blame your cold on the stew.” Haydn bit his tongue to keep from saying any more. If Grandfather got worse, he would send for a doctor. For now, he heated water. Tea with honey and lemon should help.

  Grandfather scowled. “Maybe not. But it didn’t make it any better either.”

  Chapter 5

  Confidence bolstered Gladys as she prepared for her second visit to the Keller mansion. Knowing that Mr. Keller was probably resting and that she had an ally in Haydn made the afternoon’s task less like a siege and more like a social call.

  “I’ve used all the baskets. I need to get some more with my next pay.” The only basket left in the pantry was the one Ma used for summer picnics.

  Ma waved away her concern. “Go ahead and use the picnic basket, I can get another one before summer. Now get the sachets out of here before our lunch smells like cedar.”

  Laughing, Gladys carried the first two baskets to the wagon. As she packed them in, Haydn came up behind her. “I thought you might need help carrying your pretty baskets, but I see you have it all organized.”

  “You can help me bring things out from the kitchen.” She walked with a light step as Haydn held the door open for her.

  Ma greeted Haydn with a bright smile. “You must be Mr. Johnson.”

  “And you must be Gladys’s sister.”

  Ma colored prettily at that bit of flattery. “That’s kind of you to say, Mr. Johnson, even if it is a bit of foolishness. Gladys is our eldest.”

  Gladys handed Haydn the heavier baskets with glass jars and then lifted more greenery baskets.

  “You’ll have to come for dinner one night while you’re in town. You and Mr. Keller must take a break from your business discussions from time to time. Can you make it Saturday evening? Or perhaps Sunday after church?”

  Ma was clever to give Haydn a couple of choices and make it harder for him to say no.

  But then Gladys had another thought, and her face grew warm. With such an impromptu invitation, Haydn might feel like they viewed him as a potential suitor.

  But Haydn took the offer in stride. “Provided it’s acceptable to Mr. Keller, I’ll come over after church.” Tipping his hat, he took the baskets outside, and Gladys followed him.

  Haydn placed his baskets in the wagon then helped Gladys with hers. After they finished loading the wagon, and as she lifted her leg to get up, he slipped his arms around her and whisked her onto the passenger’s seat. Never before had her spine tingled at the courteous gesture in all the times Pa had done the exact same thing.

  By the time the momentary surprise had passed, Hayden had swung onto the driver’s seat. “Are you ready?”

  At her nod, he snapped the reins over the horse’s head.

  During the short ride to the mansion, Gladys glanced at Haydn’s profile out of the corner of her eye. Brown hair streaked with lighter colors, strong, handsome, clean cut—a man who would look right at home in a city. She couldn’t imagine him settling down in a small town the size of Calico.

  Where had that thought come from? Haydn had no intention of staying in Calico. As soon as he finished his business with Mr. Keller, he would leave. She mustn’t expect any romance from that corner.

  Her spirits sank at that thought, but there was no reason she couldn’t enjoy an afternoon in his company. He rushed, however. When she dawdled with every basket, he sped up, and they finished the project faster than Gladys thought possible.

  Haydn dusted his hands on his Levis, flecks of snow melting on the denim. “After all that work, we’ve earned a warm beverage, don’t you agree?” He opened the door and swept her inside before she could say no.

  He settled her in the front parlor before heading to the kitchen. When she rose out of the chair to follow, he shook a finger at her. “You are not to help me. This kitchen is a man’s domain.” He smiled his devastating smile and disappeared.

  Gladys took advantage of the reprieve to explore. Tinkling noises confirmed Haydn’s presence in the kitchen, and she scooted out of her chair. The personality of the parlor should reveal something about its owner. She almost hoped Mr. Keller would wake up so they could visit some more. Their verbal sparring had given her pleasure, and she suspected Mr. Keller enjoyed it as well. Besides, he was the man God called her to reach with His love, not his more-than-amiable guest.

  The room was considerably warmer than it had been on her last visit, thanks to the cheery fire in the grate. Mr. Keller’s wife had probably provided the homey touches. Two samplers took pride of place on one wall. In addition to a wedding design, a birth sampler included a verse about the blessing of a quiver full of children. Maybe they had hoped for a large family. As far as Gladys knew, the Kellers only had the one child. And he had moved away before his mother had died. No wonder Mr. Keller seemed so sad, angry even.

  More surprising than the samplers was the collection of whittled creatures on the mantel. Birds and rabbits, a train car or two. She ran her hands over the smooth wood, thinking how much her little brother would enjoy them.

  “I used to play with those when I was little.” Haydn had returned with a tea tray.

  Gladys swiveled, embarrassed at being caught snooping. “You were here as a child?” She wondered about the exact nature of the business between the two families. The question was hovering on the tip of her tongue when one of the rabbits fell on the floor with a clattering sound. Swooping down to pick it up, she discovered a tiny piece of his ear was broken off.

  “So it’s you back here, bothering my peace and quiet.”

  Mr. Keller stood at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the railing, the other on a sturdy walnut walking cane. In his brown-eyed glare, humor gleamed. But Gladys couldn’t return his banter. She felt like a naughty child, holding the mutilated rabbit behind her back.

  “Caught!” Smiling, Haydn reached for the creature she was holding. “Are you worried about that little broken place? I did that when I was a boy.”

  “That he did,” Mr. Keller grumbled. “He threw those things every which way and that. I made a bunch more of them, but those are the sturdy ones that survived a boy’s hard play.” He crossed the room, his cane tapping the floor. He took the rabbit from Haydn and examined it before setting it ba
ck in its place on the shelf. “Silly thing for me to spend my time on.”

  After that brief glimpse into a happier time, Mr. Keller sat down. As he pulled a blanket over his lap, a cough seized him, knocking the cover to the floor. Gladys and Haydn sprang forward at the same time, their hands brushing. Haydn draped the blanket over the older man’s shoulders while Gladys poured a cup of tea and added enough cream to cool it. She held it to Mr. Keller’s lips. “Drink this. It should help.”

  He slowly drained the cup, and the coughing subsided. She glanced at Haydn, worry written on her features.

  “Mr. Keller, you really need to see a doctor.”

  Haydn read the signs of the coming explosion even as his grandfather coughed into his handkerchief. “Nonsense. Just because my—Mr. Johnson—has brought you into my house, doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do.”

  “She’s right, you know.” Later, when the Old Man had settled down, Haydn would slip out and ask a doctor’s advice. For now, all he could do was sit and watch. And pray.

  Gladys fixed a second cup of tea. “Did you add any honey? It always helps me when my throat hurts.” When Haydn shook his head, Gladys held the cup for Mr. Keller to drink.

  The Old Man brushed it away. “I’m not so helpless that I can’t feed myself. Why don’t you leave a man alone to enjoy his privacy?”

  “You know better than to treat a lady that way,” Haydn said. Every unkind word Grandfather spoke diminished his chances of seeing Gladys again. Even if Haydn met someone he might marry and he chose to remain in Calico, who would want to stay around a man who could change his mood at the drop of a hat?

  Grandfather rose out of his chair, shaking his cane at Gladys. “And don’t bother coming back.”

  With a final desperate look at Haydn, Gladys stumbled toward the door.

  Haydn dashed across the floor in two giant steps and held her cloak for her. Leaning close enough to whisper, he said, “I would still like to join you for Sunday dinner. If that is acceptable after today. I’ll bring the dishes Aunt Kate sent over. You might not believe it, but he ate every bite of the stew.”

  She nodded. “Get him to see a doctor if you can, will you?”

  He opened the door for her. “I’ll let you know on Sunday. I’m so sorry things turned out this way today.” He helped her in the wagon and watched her drive away, disappearing down the street. Her departure leached some of the color from the brightly colored baskets hanging on the porch.

  “Shut the door, boy, before you let all the heat out.”

  All the warmth had fled the room with Grandfather’s outburst, but Haydn did as requested. He crossed the room and climbed the stairs.

  When Grandfather coughed this time, it sounded forced, a plea for sympathy. Haydn made himself turn around and return to the living room. Grandfather picked up his teacup. “Get me some honey, will you? You’ll find it behind the jams on the shelf underneath the counter at the back of the pantry.”

  Haydn smelled the chicken soup he had left steaming on the stove. Bless Aunt Kate. This was perfect for Grandfather. Deciding to risk his anger, Haydn dished out a deep bowl and brought it out on a tray along with the honey.

  “Here’s the honey. And something extra you don’t deserve, not after the way you treated Gladys today.” He opened the jar of honey and poured a bit into Grandfather’s tea.

  “Tea with milk tastes like child’s pabulum.” In spite of his complaint, Grandfather drank it. “I suppose Kate sent over the soup. She seems to think she can cure every ill in the world with some chicken soup.”

  “A lot of women agree with her. Including my mother.” Haydn itched to get away, to go upstairs, but he made himself wait. This was a time to prove Paul’s statement that “love is patient, love is kind” and to continue helping when everything in him wanted to run.

  The heated red of Grandfather’s cheeks subsided, and he didn’t cough again while he downed the bowl of soup. Neither one of them spoke until he finished.

  Now that the immediate danger had passed, Haydn spoke his mind. “I’m ashamed of you, for the way you treated Gladys. All she’s done is offer friendship, and you attacked her.”

  Grandfather threw back his head and laughed. “That’s the spirit.”

  Haydn stared.

  “I was waiting for you to show some backbone, something to light your fire about that young thing. I guess I did it, didn’t I?”

  It was Haydn’s turn to frown. “You frightened her so bad, she may never return.”

  “No worry about that.” Grandfather chased a final chunk of chicken around his bowl. “She’s too much like Kate to give up easy.” He placed the bowl back on the tray. “When are you seeing her again?”

  “Sunday. Her mother invited me to join them for dinner.”

  “Excellent.” Grandfather rubbed his hands together. “Time to meet the family.”

  The remainder of the week passed quietly enough. Occasionally Grandfather’s coughing woke both of them up in the middle of the night. Haydn had taken to leaving a mug of tea with milk and honey on Grandfather’s dressing table when he went to bed. Downstairs, hot water simmered in a teapot over low heat for the night, in case he needed more. If he needed help, he had a bell he could ring to call Haydn. He didn’t get any worse, and although he didn’t get any better either, Haydn decided the doctor could wait for now.

  Grandfather shooed him away earlier than usual on Saturday night. “Stop fussing over me like an old mother hen. I’ve got my bell here if I need help.” He picked it up and shook it. “If you want to make a good impression on Gladys’s father, you’ll put on your best suit to go along with your fresh haircut. If you want to get her mother on your side, you’ll praise her cooking, even if it’s charred, and her wonderful children, even if they run on top of the tables.”

  Haydn had to smile at that. He’d never cared enough about a woman to worry about what impression he made on her family. But Gladys, she just might be different.

  Haydn didn’t know how Grandfather had guessed about his trip to the barbershop. His mustache was trimmed about a quarter of an inch, the hair at the back of his neck shaved, the irksome cowlick at the top of head cut short and tamed with pomade. Would it be obvious to Gladys as well? He shook the thought away. No need to dwell on it. Every man got his hair cut sooner or later.

  The season kept Haydn from taking flowers to offer his hostess, so instead he’d stopped by Finnegan’s Mercantile and asked the owner for any candies he carried. As he paid for the candy, he spotted a silver hair comb that had ruby-colored stones set in the handle. On an impulse, he added that to the purchase. He could imagine it holding Gladys’s dark curls in place.

  Sticking the items in his pocket the next morning as he prepared for church, Haydn debated the wisdom of giving Gladys the comb. He might as well ask her father for permission to court his daughter if he gave her such a personal gift. Despite Grandfather’s conditional promise to fund the newspaper, or maybe because of it, Haydn wasn’t ready to commit to courtship.

  When he saw Gladys enter the sanctuary in the company of Ruth and two other women he hadn’t met before, her hair sparkled in the light. He wanted to rush over and give the comb to her right then and there. The girls disappeared into the cloakroom before he caught up with them, and he caught himself. He waited, ready to greet Gladys as they came out.

  “—since he’s so rich.”

  Haydn thought it was the blond who said that. “Oh, Mr. Keller is rich enough to buy himself ten carriages if he wanted to,” Gladys said.

  The words hit Haydn like a slab of ice, and he stumbled away. Maybe Gladys Polson was nothing but a money-hungry schemer after all.

  Chapter 6

  Gladys wasn’t sure what she had said about Haydn that got her brothers so excited. The youngest, Georgie, in his first year at school, couldn’t wait to play trains with their guest. On Sunday morning he was pushing two small blocks of wood across the floor. “Choo-choo, chugga, chugga. Do you think
Mr. Johnson will bring his caboose with him?” He had latched onto Gladys’s mention of the carved toys.

  “I don’t think so. They belong to Mr. Keller, not Mr. Johnson.”

  Georgie shrugged. “I bet he’ll play with me. I’ll ask.”

  Whether he would or wouldn’t, Gladys didn’t know. “Maybe. Now put those away and stand up before you get your Sunday clothes dirty.”

  “He won’t want to play trains with you,” Glenda, the youngest girl in the family, huffed. “He’s going to come outside and throw snowballs with us.”

  Gordon, Glenda’s twin, told Georgie, “You can play with us if you want to.”

  “Why do you all think he’s going to play with you?” Gladys asked. “Maybe Ma invited him so she and Pa could visit with him.”

  “They’re all excited about meeting him because you haven’t stopped talking about him.” Grace, closest to Gladys in age at fifteen, grinned. “You start every other sentence with ‘Haydn.’ ‘Haydn caught me when I fell off the ladder,’ and ‘Haydn helped me hang the baskets.’ Ma only invited him so you could see him again.”

  After that too-close-to-home statement, Gladys didn’t ask any more questions. When she’d left the Keller mansion a few days ago, she could have sworn Haydn was every bit as upset as she was at Mr. Keller’s outburst. The way he asked if he was still welcome in their house had warmed her heart. His question hinted that he was eager to see her again, even to spend time with her family.

  If she’d thought her family was bad, the sewing circle was even worse. Annie wormed the story of Gladys’s last visit out of her in less than fifteen minutes.

  “He’s sounds mean as an ogre. I wouldn’t go back.” Annie shook her pretty blond curls.