Threads of Change

by Jodi Barrows

  Liz looked up as Pastor Parker rode up to the back of the house. He was a tall man with wide shoulders, wearing a white shirt tucked into dark trousers that covered his cowboy boots. A black string tie surrounded his neck and a dark cowboy hat was planted firmly on his head. His nicely groomed mustache and warm smile made the new arrivals comfortable immediately.

  He dismounted his horse and approached them with his jacket over his arm and a Bible in his hand. A leather holster on his left leg held a Colt revolver tucked down into it. He looked as if he could have been a gambler or a hired gun until the smile and worn Bible showed up. With wide steps from his long legs, he went straight to his wife and bent to give her a kiss and a one-armed hug before greeting his guests.

  “It doesn’t look like Lucas made this trip,” Parker said as he looked over the group. “These good folks must be starved for some of your fine cooking, Anna. Let’s sit and pray.”

  The pastor sat at the head of the table with his wife at his right side. Next to Anna were Liz and Thomas, then Luke, John, Blue, and Tex. Samuel sat at the other end of the table with Smithy, Colt, Chet, Jackson, Megan, Emma, and Abby at the end by Pastor Parker.

  Parker took Anna’s hand and laid his other open for Abby. “Let’s give thanks,” his rich, caramel voice began.

  Each one followed the pastor’s example and took the hand next to them. Even the rangers and millworkers followed suit. When Pastor Parker spoke, it was hard not to follow his command.

  “Our faithful God, we worship you and are grateful. Thank you for our safe journeys. Thank you for our new relationships, and we ask that you would bless this fine food that my dear wife has prepared.”

  Parker gave Anna’s hand a little squeeze. Liz and the other women at the table raised their heads slightly, watching this powerful, godly man. They had never seen or heard a preacher like this one before.

  Thomas broke Liz’s train of thought when he gave her hand a squeeze.

  “And thank you for bringing the Mailly family to us. Bless them, oh Lord. And all of God’s people said, ‘Amen.’”

  Amens sounded all around the table as each one lifted their head.

  Thomas continued to hold Liz’s hand until he had to start passing the heaping bowl of mashed potatoes and the platter overflowing with fried chicken.

  Liz noticed that Megan still held Jackson’s hand, her little hand swimming inside Jackson’s large one. He glanced at Megan and seemed satisfied to let her hand remain right there, too.

  After a moment, Megan jumped slightly, as if she’d just realized what she’d done. She slipped her hand away and giggled a little. “Sorry.”

  Pastor Parker started the conversation after all the food had gone around the table and justifiable praises had been given to Anna for all of her hard work preparing the meal. Luke teased his mother that her chickens had barely made it to Texas, and this gave him the idea that they would make a tasty supper! Laughter and good humored joking abounded around the table.

  “Miss Abby,” the pastor said, “the appointed men hired to oversee the school are here tonight at the table. Mr. Owen Smith, otherwise known as Smithy, his son Mr. Samuel Smith, and me, of course. They tell me that your wagons are unloaded and you’re almost settled in.”

  Parker took a bite of a chicken leg and smiled at his wife with approval. Anna blushed, and Liz could see that she appreciated the way her husband rewarded her with compliments, silent or spoken.

  “We want to welcome all of you to Fort Worth,” Parker said to Liz. “If there is anything we can do for you now or later, please let us know. You can talk to any of us and we will do our best to accommodate you. We want you all to settle here and plant some deep Texas roots. It is a wonderful place, and we are excited you are here!”

  Liz noticed Abby looking over the three governing men, and she thought her cousin appeared as surprised as she that there were only three, and that Samuel was one of them. Before, at Abby’s Mississippi placement, there had been five men, all of them older men with families. She didn’t know what to think about one board member being single and only a little older than Abby. But this was the West, where everything was different.

  Thomas addressed Parker. “You said earlier that if you could help in any way to just ask.”

  “Yes,” Pastor acknowledged the request. “What can I do for you, Thomas?”

  Liz’s heart fluttered slightly. She almost heard the words before they were spoken.

  “Well, this morning I asked Liz to marry me and she said yes. We would like to be married in a few weeks after we get settled. Lucas should be here by then.”

  Cheers and congratulations were heard from everyone around the table. Thomas smiled at Liz, and she forced a smile back while willing the chicken in her belly to be tamed.

  “This is such wonderful news,” Anna exclaimed. “Anything I can do to help you plan the nuptials, Liz, don’t hesitate to ask me. All right?”

  Liz nodded, forcing a smile to work its way around her gloomy attitude.

  I’m suddenly not feeling so matrimonial, she thought. How dare he simply make an announcement of this kind without discussing it with me first!

  After everyone finished the peach cobbler made with sweet, ripe Texas peaches, the Mailly women pitched in to help with the cleanup. The men stayed seated around the table, chatting about the recent relocation of the county records that would ensure Fort Worth as the county registrar.

  Tex leaned into the table and said to Pastor Parker, “So, you’re saying that a group from here went to Birdville and stole the county records?”

  “Yes, as I was riding back from a visit just south of here, I came across ol’ man Jeb, who told me he saw several men riding back with all the records from Birdville. Now that the Maillys are here, the townsfolk think this should be the place for Tarrant County records instead of Birdville. The county seat will bring growth and life to our area, which we’ll need if we are going to prosper.”

  Tex leaned back in his seat and looked to Jackson and Colt.

  “Guess it’s a good thing we’re here. We’ll take a day’s ride out at daybreak and see what we can find out. Maybe Birdville won’t put up a fuss. We’ll tell them we’re Texas Rangers are aware of the issue and will be handling it appropriately.”

  “Hopefully, it will stay calm,” Jackson chimed in. “But if they do choose to make an issue, we’ll be prepared.”

  “I think they’re right about the records,” Tex said. “I feel strongly they should be kept here. I’ll send word back to the authorities and see where we stand legally. Do you know where the records are now?”

  Parker raised his shoulders. “I’ll see what I can find out in the morning.”

  “Good,” Tex said. “See if you can get them to your house for safekeeping until we can get this straightened out.”

  Thomas followed Liz to the kitchen when she carried out away the last pile of dishes. “You look bone-weary, Liz,” he said. “I don’t think anyone would be offended if you let me see you home.”

  “I want to finish the cleanup, Thomas. And there’s no need to see me home. I’ll just see you in the morning.”

  No need to get into the whole wedding announcement argument in someone else’s home. Especially when she felt so tired she might drop at any moment.

  But Thomas hadn’t been dissuaded, and he insisted upon seeing Liz to the front door of her new home. When they reached the house, he kissed her on the forehead. She leaned against his chest. He felt strong and solid. Even though she knew he wasn’t Caleb, it felt good to be held at the end of a long day.

  Thomas put both arms around her and said, “I love you, Liz. I can’t believe I can finally say that to you. I know a lot has happened today. Get some rest and we can talk about our plans later.”

  Liz watched after him as Thomas strolled to the back door of the mercantile. She went into the house, found her nightgown, and returned to the bathhouse. As Liz removed her worn dress and folded it on the wooden stool by the tub
, she sighed as she thought about all the garment had been through.

  She stepped into the tub and let the warmth caress her skin. The water smelled like lilacs. She slipped down into it until her shoulders submerged, combing the braid from her hair with her fingers. She held her breath and slid quietly under the water, soaking every inch of her aching body, even over the top of her head.

  What a wonderful feeling to surrender mind and body to the warm tub of water. She surfaced and reached for a bottle of thick, pearly soap and poured a small amount into her hand, and then coaxed luxurious lather from her hair. Afterward, she used a pitcher to rinse her hair until it felt squeaky clean and satiny soft to the touch.

  After a time, her fingers began to wrinkle like a piece of dried fruit. The fluffy cotton towel just within her reach soothed her skin as she stepped out of the tub. She thought again about how pampered the captain’s wife must have been to have such a fancy, expensive bath sheet to use out here in this rugged part of the country!

  Liz dropped the nightgown over her head for the first time since she’d driven the wagon out of the flood. She had decided on that day that a wet nightgown was not what a lady needed to wear when driving a rain-soaked team. She would just sleep in her clothing, like it or not.

  How can I write this day in my journal? she wondered as she dried her hair in the towel. It has gone on for an eternity.

  Liz pulled the wrapper around her and tied it at the waist. Her clean, damp hair fell over her shoulders. She stepped out of the bathhouse door and looked around the yard. The sounds of the night hummed a slow song and a coyote yodeled in the distance. She paused to admire the moon that hung lazily in the big Texas sky.

  “Thank You, God,” she silently prayed. “You are good.”

  Liz cranked the handle of the back door and slipped into the kitchen. She walked toward the two bedrooms and tried to remember which one she now shared with her sister. It seemed like days rather than hours ago that she had chosen her room. Her soft and familiar quilt was a welcome sight. As she turned down her bed, her journal fell to the wood floor with a thump.

  “I’ll write it in the morning,” she mumbled as she pulled Granny’s quilt over her legs.

  As she drifted off to sleep, Liz’s thoughts meandered across the tradition of every new homestead receiving a star quilt for good luck. The women of the community would make one and send it in the settlers’ wagon on their way to a new home.

  She thought about the hardships of the wagon trail endured by so many, and now she knew what it meant to have the support and prayers of a family as you suffered through the long, tireless days.

  That’s what I will write in my journal tomorrow, she thought as she snuggled into the cozy quilt.

  She hardly heard the whispers from the hallway as Megan, Abby, and Emma prepared for bed, and she thought she might be dreaming when Tex’s low baritone voice rounded up the men and they headed to the old military bunkhouse.

  Her very last thought as she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep: Even an army bed will be a treat for them tonight.

  Thomas hadn’t ridden very long before he caught a glimpse of that for which he’d set out searching that morning.

  “Hello, anyone there?” he called out as he approached the peddler’s wagon.

  “Mr. Skelly here,” someone returned through a thick Irish brogue. “Friend or foe?”

  “Oh, friend for sure, Mr ….”

  “Skelly. Just peddler Skelly,” the little man sang as he appeared from behind the wagon. “What might I do ya for?”

  “I wasn’t sure I’d find you,” Thomas said as he dismounted. “I was told you were due this morning.”

  “Ah, so I was, laddy. So I was,” Skelly said as he adjusted his strange little suit. “Just taking a quick break, I was. I stopped at a few ranches and farms on my way to Fort Worth. Made me some nice trades, too. Is that where you’re from, boy? Came from Fort Worth, did ya now?”

  “Yes,” Thomas replied. “Thomas Bratcher. I’m new to the area.”

  “Oh,” he said, lifting a hopeful eyebrow, “are you a married man now, Thomas Bratcher? With a family? Do you need something for them? I have some lovely things. Yes, I do Mr. Bratcher. Would you like to see?”

  Thomas smiled at the round little peddler. He had to listen carefully to understand what he was saying over his thick accent.

  “Yes.” Thomas paused. “Well, they’ll be my family soon anyway. I’m traveling with the Maillys from Louisiana and I’ve recently become betrothed to—”

  The peddler’s eyes ignited like a torch, and he squealed with glee as he took one hop off the ground, launching into a little jig as he landed.

  Thomas wondered how the peddler could get all of his weight off the ground like that and had to hide his amusement at the Irishman’s dance.

  “The Mailly family, you say? Imagine that! The luck o’ the Irish holds true.” He talked excitedly as he searched the inside of his vest pocket until he produced a letter. “I have something for them, you know. This letter is from Captain Sewell’s wife back in Fort Polk and it is to be hand delivered from me personally. Can you show me the way to the ladies?”

  “Yes, I can. I’m going that way now. But first I thought I might need to purchase something from you. Elizabeth Bromont is to be my wife, and I would like to buy her a special gift. Would you have anything in your wagon for my future bride?” Thomas asked with anticipation.

  The peddler put his finger up as he asked, “Could your bride be the same as the fair Liz Mailly?”

  “Well, yes, the very same. She is the granddaughter of Lucas Mailly and the widow of Caleb Bromont.”

  “You must secure the reins of that horse of yours, Mr. Bratcher, and come see what I have for you. It’s your lucky day, Thomas Bratcher! Your new bride will love you even more when I show you what I have!”

  “Show me,” Thomas said as he quickly wrapped the reins of his horse around the wooden bar at the back of the peddler’s wagon.

  The little man scurried up into the back of the wagon rather quickly considering his girth, and he began moving things around inside. Finally, he appeared with a large cloth bag and began the story of the quilt inside it.

  “Mrs. Sewell, the precious lady, has a new wee one and was in need of many things, and she wanted to buy a special gift for her husband, the captain. He is a lucky man to have the love of that woman … yes, indeed … and she wanted to buy the gift for him and trade for the baby things.”

  Mr. Skelly untied the knot at the end of the bag as he told Thomas his story. Thomas couldn’t imagine what the peddler could have in that bag, or why it had him so elated, but he continued to insist that the contents would make the perfect gift for Liz.

  The peddler pulled the quilt from the bag and continued telling the story as he opened it wide for Thomas to see.

  “The captain’s wife makes quilts,” the round man continued as he yanked one out of the bag. “And she has them stacked up and folded neatly in a cabinet. She told how the Mailly women were so inspired by her quilts, in fact, that they could hardly think of anything else during their trip. Miss Mailly … er … Liz,” the peddler stumbled over her name, “really wanted this one. She tried to buy it from her on that day, in fact, but the captain’s wife wasn’t ready to let it go just then. When she was ready, she traded it to me with strict instructions to only sell it to Miss Liz Mailly. So you see why I must be certain, Mr. Bratcher. Are you sure your bride is the right Mailly lady? I wouldn’t want to disappoint the captain’s wife by mistaking one Liz for another one. Ah, if your Elizabeth Bromont is the Liz Mailly as you claim, then you are a lucky man! Yes indeed, the luck o’ the Irish is upon you today, Mr. Bratcher!”

  When the peddler finally stopped talking, Thomas wasn’t entirely sure he’d followed all the way through. But as he peered down at the quilt in the peddler’s stubby arms, he instinctively knew Liz would love such a gift. The pattern—a circle, like a ring … like a wedding ring—combined many beaut
iful colors and prints.

  “It’s perfect,” he told the peddler, and the little man cackled with excitement. “I will take it, and one more thing. Do you have a gold wedding ring?” Thomas asked, hoping that the Irish luck the man had spoken about still smiled down on him.

  “No, but I do have a sterling silver one I think you will like. It’s a very unique design,” the peddler said as he retrieved a small box that held the ring and a few other pieces of jewelry.

  Amazed at the inventory the man had tucked away and hanging in every nook and cranny of his wagon, Thomas’s heart thumped out the seconds while Skelly plucked out the ring and placed it in his palm. When he displayed it dramatically in his outstretched hand, Thomas pondered its intricate design. It wasn’t quite what he had in mind, but the ring was very pretty and Thomas thought it would fit Liz’s small finger. He took it from the peddler cautiously and placed it on his own pinkie finger for a closer look.

  “Looks like I owe you some money, Mr. Skelly. How much am I in for?” Thomas asked as he admired the ring.

  “Are you trading or buying today?”

  Thomas placed the ring into his vest pocket and pulled out a shiny gold coin. “Will this be fair?” he asked as the sun glinted off the piece of gold.

  “More than fair, Mr. Bratcher. It has been an honor to do business with you.”

  “Load up and I will take you into town to meet the women where you can deliver the letter personally. I bet they might even invite you to stay for supper,” Thomas told the old Irishman. “And remember … what I bought today is a secret … no telling.”

  The man, happy as a leprechaun—and looking a little like one too in that odd green suit—climbed up to his wagon and placed his finger over his mouth to let Thomas know that he wouldn’t tell the secret.

  Thomas folded the quilt carefully and put it back inside the bag, tying it to the horn of his saddle. After securing the horse’s reins, he climbed up to the wagon and sat beside Skelly. With the quilt secure and the ring tucked inside his pocket, they were ready to go. Thomas gave a quick pat to the pocket that hid the ring.