Season Of Hope

by Cox, Carol

  All through cutting and stacking the stalks of corn, Rachel wrestled with the ache of loneliness. Even if they could get over this hump and hire some help next year, would she be able to go on shouldering the full load of responsibility?

  How she longed for someone to share the burden with. Someone who could help her bear it. Violet loved her dearly, but they didn’t have anything like the same kind of partnership she’d had with Pa. Not like she’d hoped to share with a husband someday.

  A heavy knot settled in the pit of her stomach. After what she’d been through in the past week, thoughts of matrimony ought to be the farthest thing from her mind. But her wayward thoughts had a will of their own, and images of Daniel flashed through her mind like scenes from a magic-lantern show. Daniel, with his strong arms hefting a load of firewood as easily as she could pick up Molly. The broad back muscles rippling under the taut fabric of his shirt. The concern in his eyes when she’d struck her head against the door frame.

  What would it be like if he had proposed for the right reasons? She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, berating her traitorous heart for daring to harbor such thoughts.

  She propped the shock she’d just tied upright, secured the barn for the night, and made her way to the house, hoping she’d be able to stay awake long enough to eat and undress before she tumbled into bed.

  nine

  Daniel rode onto the Canfield property just after daybreak, his mouth set in a determined line. How many ways could a man manage to make a fool of himself? He seemed bent on trying to figure them all out. If it hadn’t been bad enough to insult Rachel with his bright idea of marriage, skedaddling like a scolded pup only made him look like a bigger idiot.

  In the three days since his hasty departure, he’d had plenty of time to sort things out. At first, he’d headed straight for his claim, aiming to use his newfound time to catch up on all the work he’d let slide while helping Ike’s daughters. He’d aired out his roomy cabin and set about repairing a leak in the flume to his sluice box. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t escape the memory of Rachel’s face. She’d looked tired, so tired, and he hadn’t even given her a chance to freshen up before he launched into his brilliant plan.

  She’d wiped the dampness from her brow, and her hand had left a streak of dirt across her forehead that showed when she lifted her face to his. He remembered that and the way her clear brown eyes had clouded over when he made his inept attempt at solving her dilemma.

  “ ‘I think we should get married.’ ” The arrogance of the blunt statement made him squirm with embarrassment. Had he really thought her so desperate she’d jump at any lifeline thrown her way? What a way to spring a life-changing idea on a woman! Even coming as a strictly businesslike proposal, he should have given her some warning of what he intended to say.

  These thoughts and more had eaten at him so over the past three days that the time he should have spent digging out a new pile of ore had been taken up with self-recrimination. As clearly as if she stood before him now, he could see the confusion written on her countenance, followed closely by disbelief, then anger. And he had put them there. As if she hadn’t had enough to contend with, losing her pa, then working like a mule to make good on her loan payment.

  She deserved a helping hand, and he had only added to her heartache.

  Time alone with the Lord had given him a good opportunity to see his mistakes all too clearly. He’d learned something else during his absence. He missed Rachel. Missed her a lot, and that wasn’t something he’d ever expected. Respect had turned into something far more tender, filtering into the background of his thoughts without him being aware of it.

  His lack of experience in dealing with the fairer sex had never been more evident than when he spouted out his clever plan without ever thinking how it might sound to Rachel. If he had it to do all over again. . .but wishing wouldn’t change a thing.

  His biggest worry now—the one that drove away his appetite and kept him awake at night—was whether his colossal blunder had ruined any chance of ever regaining Rachel’s trust. At this point, he hardly dared to hope for more.

  Daniel unsaddled his horse and turned the gelding into the corral. Had he missed his one opportunity for happiness? He couldn’t blame Rachel a bit if she never wanted to set eyes on him again. In her place, he’d probably want to pull that Henry rifle down from the wall and run him off the farm. On the other hand, the harvest still needed to be brought in.

  A slow smile spread across his face. He liked having a strong bargaining point. She had to let him stay long enough to see it through. He wanted her to know that he followed through on his promises. Had she thought him a quitter the day he’d ridden off in a huff? The idea made him choke. It hadn’t been like him to let his wounded feelings take over and goad him into deserting the sisters when they needed him.

  Well, he was back to stay. . .at least until the harvest had ended. After that, only the good Lord knew, and Daniel had been bombarding heaven with pleas for divine direction.

  His practiced eye scanned the fields, assessing what had been done in his absence. Rachel had been busy, he noted. She must have cleared another two acres. But then, had he expected anything less? She had shown him time and time again that she knew the meaning of hard work. The thought of her having to tackle it alone because he’d gone off to lick his wounds strengthened his resolve to stay. He would pitch in and finish the job, whether Rachel liked the idea or not.

  “Daniel!” Violet ran down the porch steps and hurried to meet him. “Where have you been? We missed you.”

  “I had to check on some things back at my claim,” he told her, flinching at the half truth. “But I’m back now and rarin’ to go. I need to make up for lost time.”

  “Come to the barn with me,” she said, tugging on his sleeve. “I want to show you what Molly’s been up to.”

  “Found her, did you?” He smiled and followed her into the shadowy interior. Violet, at least, didn’t mind his coming back. He began to relax a fraction.

  ❧

  Rachel heard Violet’s glad cry and pulled back the kitchen curtain. She saw her sister fly down the porch steps and run across the yard in the early morning gloom. Even in the dim light, Rachel recognized Daniel’s form at first glance.

  Violet pulled at his arm, then led him into the barn. “Those kittens!” Rachel muttered. Her sister was besotted with them. Daniel didn’t put up much protest, but why should she expect him to? Violet, with her captivating personality, could persuade almost anyone to whatever she wanted.

  Rachel twitched the curtain back again in time to see the two of them emerge from the barn, laughing and talking animatedly. Daniel had lost the set look she’d seen on his face the last time they talked. Or rather, the last time she’d shouted at him. A pang of remorse smote her at the memory. Today he seemed to be at ease, more like himself. At least one of the Canfield sisters knew how to treat a person de-cently, she thought moodily.

  She started to drop the curtain but caught sight of her reflection in the window glass and paused to stare at her image. A solemn face framed by light brown hair returned her gaze. Nutmeg-colored eyes looked back at her with sad awareness.

  Rachel turned impatiently and went back to kneading biscuits. No wonder she only received proposals when they were motivated by greed. Why would anyone take a second look at her with a beauty like Violet around? Violet, with her vivid blue eyes and glossy hair the color of an otter’s sleek coat, would capture any man’s attention. . .and his heart.

  Rachel knew she possessed pluck and determination, important traits for survival in this rugged land and things her pa had valued. But strength didn’t attract suitors. Violet would always be the belle of the family; Rachel would fill her role as the one born to the land. She might just as well accept that.

  ❧

  Daniel’s mind churned while he started shocking corn. It struck him as odd that he could know Rachel’s strength of character so well and still have so
little insight into the way her mind worked. If only there were some way to understand the way she thought.

  Over by the barn, Violet set out a pan of milk for Molly. A smile touched Daniel’s lips, remembering her excitement at showing off the cat and her new family. An idea started out like a wisp of smoke, then took shape in his mind.

  Who knew Rachel better than her sister? He’d always found Violet easy to talk to; maybe he should cultivate their friendship more diligently. A few well-placed questions ought to put him on the road to making some headway with Rachel.

  Understanding her was essential to the success of his newly formed plan. He fully intended to propose to Rachel again. And this time he wouldn’t be offering her a marriage of convenience.

  ten

  The clop clop of the horses’ hooves beat a steady rhythm on the hard-packed road, playing a counterpoint to the squeak of the wagon wheels. Rachel swayed in the wagon seat, her eyes drifting closed, then open again. The horses knew the way home and didn’t need her constant attention, she reminded herself, gathering the reins in her fist.

  She braced her feet against the foot board, then rested her forearms on her knees and allowed her eyelids to fall once more. She’d catch a few minutes’ rest before she got back to the farm and resumed the endless cycle of cutting and tying the cornstalks into bundles.

  Her shoulders sagged, and her head nodded in time with the wagon’s rocking progress, but a tiny smile lifted the corners of her lips. Despite her weariness, the knowledge they’d made significant progress in recent days gave her reason to rejoice.

  Just an hour ago, she had sold the last of the garden vegetables to Jake Samson. Earlier that week, Daniel had added fodder to the items they could sell to Fort Whipple. Tonight, if she could stay awake long enough, she’d enter the latest sales figures in her ledger and see how much farther she had to go to reach her goal.

  Rachel dozed, rousing only when the horses slowed their pace at the turnoff to her property. She transferred the heavy reins to the other hand, flexing her stiff fingers and rubbing the sleep from her bleary eyes. As soon as she unhitched the horses and put the harness away, she could start clearing the old potato vines off the garden plot.

  She rolled her head from side to side to stretch the complaining muscles in her neck. If Violet had remembered to prepare supper instead of getting sidetracked by some flight of fancy, she could look forward to a hot meal in an hour or so. If only she could hold out that long, there would be a brief respite from her labor.

  But the next day would come, and the next day, and the next, each bringing with it an interminable list of jobs to be done. Rachel groaned aloud. Her former hopes for a break once the harvest was in had evaporated when she realized that in bending all her efforts to the task at hand, she had let any number of other chores go undone.

  Firewood needed to be cut. The fields and garden needed to be plowed. Food set aside for their own use had to be put up for the winter. All these tasks still waited for someone to do them. Waited for her.

  Would there ever again be a time when she could relax for more than a moment? A time to sit and plan and dream? The enormity of the job she had undertaken overwhelmed her. If she ever got caught up, perhaps she could sit and rest for awhile. Maybe until spring, when the ground thawed and the fields and garden were ready for planting. Maybe forever. Once she sat down in the rocker in front of the fire, she might never want to get up again.

  At the barn, she pulled off the collars and traces and turned the horses out into the corral, envying their freedom at having the rest of the day to themselves. She hung up the heavy harness and headed for the kitchen garden.

  On her way, she glanced toward the house, wondering what Violet had decided to cook. A stew would be nice, she decided. A stew rich with savory broth and fluffy biscuits on the side. She looked off toward the edge of the cornfield where Daniel worked to repair the deer fence and blinked. Her steps slowed while she tried to focus her tired eyes, un-willing to believe what she saw.

  Two figures, not one, stood at the fence line. Daniel leaned against a post and appeared to be listening intently while the second person spoke and fluttered her hands in lively gestures. Rachel’s eyes narrowed. She recognized the coat the other person wore. Violet. When she finished talking, Daniel threw back his head and laughed, then squeezed her shoulder. Violet gave him a playful swat on the arm in return and ran back to the house.

  Rachel stood motionless so long she thought she might take root, then forced her unwilling feet to move and resumed her walk to the garden, her emotions in turmoil. Didn’t she spend every waking hour working herself into the ground? How could these two take time to indulge in chitchat when the sun still shone and work cried out to be done? She just hoped Violet hadn’t let their supper scorch. That would be the final straw.

  This wasn’t the first time she had seen them together. More than once she’d spotted Violet tagging along behind Daniel when she had business of her own to attend to. Her frustration mounted until she thought she would explode. Didn’t either of them care about the looming deadline? Didn’t they care about her?

  She couldn’t expect Daniel to worry about anything but his debt to her father. After all, that was the reason he had come to them in the first place. Even after his proposal. . .but she wouldn’t think about that. Violet, though, ought to show some concern for what Rachel was enduring, especially since she did it not only for the two of them but for their father’s memory.

  A tight knot of despair formed in her chest, growing until it threatened to choke her. All the while she gathered up the withered vines, bitter thoughts ate at her spirit like an acid. By the time she walked back to the barn to put her tools away, she knew she had to resolve her angry feelings or burst.

  Perhaps she misread the scene she had witnessed earlier. Maybe Violet had a legitimate reason for going to the field. She would go to the house prepared to give them both the benefit of the doubt. But if she discovered her earlier assumptions had been correct. . .

  Lamplight streamed from the windows by the time she mounted the porch steps. Through the kitchen door came the sounds of lighthearted laughter. Rachel clenched her teeth, reminding herself not to jump to conclusions, and pushed open the door.

  Daniel leaned against the far wall, watching Violet pull a custard pie from the oven. “If that tastes as good as it smells, it’ll melt in your mouth.” He smiled. “But you probably put in salt instead of sugar or threw the eggshells in the pie by mistake.”

  “Ooh!” Violet set the pie on the windowsill to cool and threw the dish towel she’d used to pull it from the oven at Daniel in mock outrage. “You just sit down and mind your manners. If you behave yourself during supper, I might let you have a piece.” She turned to Rachel as if noticing her presence for the first time. “Have a seat. I’m ready to dish it up.”

  Rachel went to her room to wash, then settled into her chair at the end of the table. Violet set a steaming plate before her. The meal she had so anticipated slid down her throat unnoticed while she eyed her sister and Daniel.

  “Not bad.” Daniel patted his mouth with his napkin. “Even if I do hate to admit it.”

  Violet wrinkled her nose at him, then turned to Rachel. “Are you all right?” she asked, concern tingeing her voice. “You’re awfully quiet.”

  “I’m fine,” Rachel told her. “Just a little tired.” Like you two would be if you’d been working as hard as I have.

  Violet threw her a hurt look. “You didn’t even say anything about the chicken and dumplings. It’s your favorite.”

  Rachel glanced down at her plate. Was that what she’d eaten? She had been so busy watching the two of them, she hadn’t even noticed. A twinge of guilt pricked her conscience. How could she stand in judgment of their behavior when her own had been so thoughtless?

  “I’m sorry. It’s delicious.” She took another bite, just to be sure. It did taste good. What a pity she had been so absorbed with her resentful thoughts that she ha
d missed this wonderful meal.

  “I agree.” Daniel eyed the plate on the windowsill hungrily. “Now, that pie may be a whole different story. . . .”

  Violet narrowed her eyes at him. “If you’re so sure it’s going to taste awful, I’d hate to inflict any of it on you.”

  Daniel held up his hands. “Chivalry demands that I taste it first to protect you ladies from possible discomfort.”

  Violet sniffed but cut a slice of pie for each of them. Despite his teasing, Rachel noticed that Daniel received the biggest of the lot.

  After pronouncing the pie an unexpected success, Daniel moved to the chair he had claimed as his own and leaned back contentedly.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Violet called. “Just as soon as I clean the kitchen.” She looked at Rachel. “Didn’t you say you were going to tote up the ledger tonight?”

  Rachel hesitated, torn between the desire to know exactly where they stood financially and her body’s cry for rest. The need for sleep won out. “Not tonight,” she told her sister. The total wouldn’t change overnight, but she wouldn’t be able to function tomorrow if she didn’t get to bed.

  Her exhaustion notwithstanding, sleep eluded her. Moon-light washed through her window, casting strange shadows on the wall. She stared at the ceiling, thinking over the events that had so upset her. Had she overreacted to a friendly conversation? In her fatigued condition, it was possible; she had to admit that. Maybe she’d been wrought up over nothing.

  “Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice.” She could hear the words of the verse as clearly as when Pa had read them by the fireside. Had the seeds of bitterness sprouted and taken root in her heart? Lord, I’m sorry. It’s just so hard. Please forgive me and help me not to fall prey to the snare of the enemy.