Herd the Music

by Lynn Donovan

  Rafe's eyes widened.

  "Why don't you come by the house when you can, later today... or when you can, and let me introduce you." This felt too much like meddling in the man's business, but then again, it was Redburn's business now. He would just have to get used to having these kinds of conversations. He swallowed.

  Rafe nodded. "I-I c-can c-come."

  "Okay, then. We'll see you in a bit."

  Rafe jerked a nod but remained silent.

  Yep. This man was a perfect match for that deaf girl. Redburn hurried onto the bench and looked around. Maybe he should go ahead and round up some more men, get these couples introduced, and start planning wedding ceremonies. Wouldn't it be efficient to have several weddings at once, just herd them through and be done with it? Satisfaction settled on his shoulders. He slapped Maude's back with the reins. This was going to work for sure.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dumpling rose on his hind end, flopping his paws toward the door. Myrakle looked out the window. Mr. Redburn pulled the mule into the yard with the supplies. Beans hurried to him and helped unload the wagon. The girls rushed to the kitchen, where the men were bringing the boxes of supplies Redburn had bought inside. Redburn pumped his hands, quieting the bombardment of questions. But there was a look about him, like he had a plan, whereas last night... well, last night he looked clueless. "I've got answers to your questions, ladies. Just let me get these supplies brought in and put away, then we can sit down and talk."

  The girls hustled to get the flour and baking goods put in the pantry. The soaps and toiletries were cooed over and distributed among them and put in their rooms. The two men put away other supplies in the barn. Soon the women were sitting in the parlor. Anxiety was palpable like a thick heavy fog. Even Dumpling repositioned himself on the floor only to get up and do it again. Redburn finally sauntered in with a pleased-with-himself look on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand. He held a measuring rope tied with a knot every six inches in the other fist.

  What did he have in mind?

  "Alright, ladies. I need to gather some information on you. Could you all stand?" He sat his cup down, took the leather-bound booklet from under his arm and licked the end of the pencil. He stepped up to Helena and grasped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her mouth open. He leaned his head down and peered into her mouth. She coughed and gagged, staggering back away from his rough handling. “Mr. Redburn!” He held the measuring stick in front of her and wrote down her height.

  "What are you doing?" Helena demanded.

  Violet rushed to Mr. Redburn and peeked over his arm at his list. "Oh Mr. Redburn—"

  "I'm writing down your information. This'll help me match you to your compatible suitor.”

  “Mr. Redburn." Helena stepped closer to him

  Alice's eyes popped open and her jaw went lax. "Wait a minute! You don't know who Miss Viola had us matched with?"

  Bert looked aggravated as always.

  Violet turned to Alice. "Well, she wouldn't have that information until she got to know you better, Miss Bowen."

  "I'm afraid my aunt took what information she had to her grave, along with her recipe for cat-head biscuits." He chuckled.

  The girls didn't even smile.

  Violet moved to stand next to Redburn, "Let's let Mr. Redburn speak."

  Most of them sat back down and crossed their arms over their chests, refusing to be measured.

  He casted an odd glance at Violet and continued. "Now, ladies... This is necessary, I assure you." He licked his pencil and held it over his booklet. "Now, tell me— how much do you weigh?"

  Mouths dropped open, including Violet's, and eyebrows rose in shock. Not one of them divulged their weight. "Ladies, please. I talked to potential grooms while I was up town and several of them have agreed to come by later to be introduced to you. I need to know your size and age in order to figure out which of you is a proper match for—"

  "Who's coming by later?" Myrakle lit up with excitement. Had Redburn talked to Joseph Penella? "I need to talk to you about that. I met a gentleman—"

  "Ladies, please." Redburn scratched his head with the pencil. "I've got a system all worked out. Let me record some information about you and later, when the men come over—"

  "We are not cattle, Mr. Redburn." Helena's foot swung at her hem with agitation.

  "No. I know you're not, but the principles—"

  "Mr. Redburn," Myrakle interjected. "I want to make a request. I already know who I want—"

  "Oh. Miss..." He paused, glaring at her. Did he forget her name?

  Myrakle stared at him, her mouth still open from the words that had been interrupted. He didn't even remember her name? "Estes. Myrakle Estes."

  "Yes. Miss Estes. I have a fine gentleman in mind for you. He'll be here later for sure."

  "Joseph Penella? Is it Joseph Penella?" She scooted to the edge of her seat. Dumpling sat up.

  "Penella? ... No." He looked at the other girls and back to Myrakle. "Rafe Adams. You and he are perfect." Redburn looked at his chart. "Yeah, he'll be by later."

  "But I've already talked to Mr. Penella..." Tears pooled in Myrakle's eyes. "In fact, he came by after lunch and said he'd be back to discuss it with you."

  Redburn stared at her. "Joseph Penella? Hmm."

  He looked at his list again, and tapped the page. Myrakle held back the panic. Did he have Penella written down? Or his brothers? Joseph had said their father had asked Miss Viola to find the three boys a bride. What would happen if Mr. Redburn didn't have the Penella boys written down?

  Redburn's mouth opened. "Look. Let's give Rafe Adams a chance. I spoke to him today and I got a good feeling— Let me introduce the two of you and see if any sparks fly. What do you say?" He forced a smile.

  Myrakle's lip trembled. Why wouldn't he listen to her? She had already met the man who made her sparks fly. "But, Mr. Redburn—"

  The other's pressed in on Mr. Redburn, questions were being hurled at him like rocks. He actually cringed as if he were being pelted. Finally, he backed away. "Look, lades. I'm doing the best I can here. Aunt Viola didn't leave me much to go on."

  The girls backed away in tears.

  "I've worked out a system! Let's give my way a try first! Please trust me here!"

  Tears streamed down most of the faces, Myrakle's included. Other's just looked infuriated. Violet peered at Redburn in an odd way that Myrakle couldn't decipher. And right now, she just didn't care to. All of the girls backed away from Redburn and one by one they made their way to their bedroom. Jasmine put her arm around Myrakle as they entered their room together. What were they going to do? Mr. Redburn had no idea how to match up brides with grooms. He, himself, was a single man. He knew nothing about compatibility, personality, attraction. He knew nothing about matchmaking!

  Myrakle fell across her bed. She wanted Joseph Penella, and he wanted her. He was a man she could fall deeply in love with. Those eyes already had her under a spell. It would be such a short walk to falling in love. She had no idea who this Rafe Adams was. Dumpling licked her cheek. She sat up and drew the dog into her arms. She cried into his soft, tan coat. She could feel a whimper in his chest. Dumpling liked Mr. Penella, too. Anybody else would just not do. She stood from the bed. Jasmine lifted sad eyes and watched her leave the room.

  Mr. Redburn was going to listen to her... or else.

  Or else what? She had nothing to go home to. She had no money until she married. And only if she married in less than six months. Suddenly she realized just how vulnerable she had become since her papa died. She really had to do whatever Mr. Redburn wanted her to do. Fear gripped her heart. She crept into the parlor. Dumpling trotted beside her. Beans crossed the parlor and glanced at her with smiling eyes. Something looked different about him, but she couldn't place what it was. He opened the front door. A man stood waiting.

  Myrakle gasped. "Maybe-Joseph!"

  He chuckled and pulled his hat from his head. Beans opened the screen and st
ood back for Mr. Penella to enter. They exchanged pleasantries. Myrakle wanted to run to him and cry about Mr. Redburn's ridiculous ideas about matchmaking. She held herself back. In truth, she hardly knew this man. What would he think of her being so forward as to throw herself into his arms and cry like a school girl?

  Redburn came from the office and shook Joseph's hand. Joseph now looked nervous and kept darting a glance at Myrakle. Helena and Jasmine wandered up behind Myrakle, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Beans jumped and rushed to the door. Another man had arrived. Then another. Soon the parlor was filled with strangers and Mr. Redburn called all the girls into the parlor by placing his second finger and thumb in his mouth. Jasmine had described it as a "rude and high-shrilled whistle."

  As if he were setting couples together for a do-si-do, he looked the women over, sizing them up, Myrakle assumed, then he took a girl's hand and pulled her to stand next to the gentleman he had assessed to be a good match. He introduced them by name and moved to the next twosome. The girls all stood in tears. The men looked just as disgruntled. What a disaster this was.

  "Now. You all go take a walk or something. Get to know each other." He shooed them away, like he was trying to scatter chickens.

  "But, Mr. Redburn—" Myrakle looked at Rafe Adams at her side. The man looked nervous as a long tail cat on a porch full of rocking chairs. She swallowed her complaint and gave the man a pleasant smile. He gestured for her to walk ahead of him and out the front door. Her eyes met Joseph Penella's. She shrugged and walked outside. Surely he knew none of this was her fault. Redburn had matched him with Bertha Langston— Bert, but she looked as disinterested in him as she felt for this Mr. Adams. She sighed and crossed the threshold.

  Maybe she could explain the situation to Mr. Adams and exchange fellas in the yard. Would that be too brazen? She had no idea. This wasn't setting a table or ironing a shirt. This was something her momma had never taught her how to handle. Mr. Adams placed his hand at her back and directed her to walk around back toward the chicken coop. She complied. Maybe she should talk. Hopefully, he'd be offended by her flat voice like most people back home were and go tell Mr. Redburn he wanted someone else.

  "So. What do you do for a living, Mr. Adams?"

  He lifted terrified eyes. "I-I m-mae f-f-fu'ure."

  Did she read his lips right? "I'm sorry? I can't tell what you said." Myrakle resisted the eye roll that screamed to be released. "You see, I'm deaf. I read lips. But for some reason I can't tell what you are saying."

  A crimson tide of color filled his face. He shrugged. "Ahhh d-dun t-t-taw s-so goo."

  She stared at him with tightly drawn brows. Why couldn't she understand his lips? It was as if he wasn't speaking English. Embarrassment swamped her senses. How could this be so much worse than she ever imagined?

  "I don't know... what you're saying." She shook her head apologetically. "I'm... so sorry."

  He shrugged, jammed his hands into his pockets, and kicked an imaginary rock on the ground. What could she do? This was a terrible match. She didn't understand him and she had no idea if he understood her.

  "Look. I'm sure you're a very nice man. But... but I can't see your words." Tears filled her eyes. "I have to see your words." She hated being so rude to him. Obviously there was something... different about him. She had no idea what it was that made his lips so hard to read. But this was never going to work. "Please, excuse me."

  She trotted into the house and sought Mr. Redburn. He had settled in his office. She ran in, taking a deep breath to stay the tears. "Mr. Redburn, I can't marry Rafe Adams. I'm sure he's a very nice man. But..." tears tightened her throat. "I can't... I have to be able to read his lips."

  Redburn's eyes widened. "Oh. I figured because Adams was so quiet... I didn't think his stutter would cause— and you couldn't..." His eyebrows went so high on his forehead, his creeping hairline slid backward. "Well, I guess I figured wrong. I'm sorry. I didn't realize..." an odd look filled his eyes— shame or guilt, embarrassment?

  She couldn't assess what it was. "Mr. Redburn, I'd like to be matched with Mr. Penella. Joseph Penella. And... he'd like to be matched with me."

  Redburn frowned. "The two of you talked about this?" He rubbed the spot on his forehead where his cowboy hat usually sat. "He told you this?"

  She nodded, hope at last rising in her heart.

  "Well." Redburn looked at his records booklet. "Alright. I'll write that down."

  "Thank you." Myrakle wanted to leap in the air and hug him around his neck. "Thank you, Mr. Redburn."

  "Uh, one other thing, Miss Estes." He lifted tired eyes to meet hers. "Do you know of any other arrangements that have already been... discussed?"

  She smiled. "I'm not sure, but I bet if you call everybody back into the parlor, they can tell you themselves."

  "That's the best advice I've gotten all day."

  Myrakle turned to leave. Beans filled the doorway. "Hey!" he hollered. "I told you to let the girls see the fellers first and then match them up according to who showed interest in whom."

  Myrakle's eyes roved over the cook's face. What was different? "Beans!" She laughed. "I can see your lips!"

  He grinned wide as a nearly toothless opossum. "I trimmed my mustache so you can see what I say."

  "Thank you!" She fell onto his shoulder and hugged him soundly. "That's the kindest thing anybody's ever done for me."

  Beans flicked a tear from the crevice next to his eye. "Oh go on now. Go tell your man the good news."

  She smiled. "I will." And skipped around him to scurry to the yard.

  "Joseph Penella!" she hollered. Dumpling leapt into the air and barked. She searched the yard. "Joseph!"

  He stood with Bert Langston. She pointed at the sky and was talking nonstop about something. Joseph appeared to be listening with polite interest. Myrakle wondered how he felt about calling her a boy's name. Bert! They both looked miserable. Myrakle slid to a halt beside him. Bert had wrapped her arms around her waist as if she felt sick to her stomach. As Myrakle approached, Bert's brow furrowed. Joseph looked up with relief. "Miss Estes!"

  Miss Langston looked relieved, too.

  "Mr. Redburn said he made a mistake. He said you and I can—" She glanced at her sister bride. "I'm sorry." Darting her eyes back to Joseph. "If you still want me, we can—"

  The girl flapped her hand. "No please, go on, take him. We don’t seem to have much in common anyway."

  "I don't mean to intrude." Suddenly Myrakle realized the gravity of just grabbing the gentleman from her. "If... you're sure."

  "Oh trust me." Bert looked relieved. "I'm sure." She turned and walked away.

  Myrakle smiled and put out her hand. Mr. Penella kissed her knuckle and placed her hand at the bend of his elbow. The sensation of his kiss remained on her skin and in her heart. She wanted to squeal, but held the excitement inside. They strolled toward the chicken coop. Remnants of the egg fiasco earlier laid scattered on the ground. Dumpling pushed the broken shells around with his snout and licked the interiors for good measure.

  She giggled. "Next time, I'll bring a basket."

  He chuckled. "That's a good idea." They walked in silence for a while. He tapped her arm and she turned her face to him. "Do you want chickens and goats? ... When we marry?"

  She shrugged. She hadn't thought that far ahead. "I suppose it depends on where we live." Her brow knitted. "Where do you live?"

  His hand touched hers as he laid it across the one at his elbow. "I live at my pa's ranch now. We can build us a house on his land, if you want. Or we can buy our own land and build on it. Whatever you want. You're my miracle and, as long as I got breath in me, I'll work hard to give you anything you want."

  She snuggled against his arm. "All I want is you, and Dumpling, and peace of mind."

  "And... children?"

  A rush of heat filled her cheeks. "Yes, ... and children."

  They reached Miss Viola's back porch. Beans shoved through the screen door holding a tr
ay with glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. "Ya'll come get ya something cool to drink. And I got cookies baking in the oven."

  He rushed back in. Myrakle laughed and led Mr. Penella onto the porch. They sat in wooden rockers and drank the tartly sweet lemonade. Myrakle placed her hand on Mr. Penella's arm and waited for him to look at her. "Would it be possible for us to have a piano?"

  His eyes widened and a sparkle appeared across the blue spheres. "You? Can play the piano?"

  Jasmine stepped onto the porch. Myrakle turned to her friend when she felt the vibration of boots on the wooden slats. "Can she ever! Wait until you hear this woman play the piano!"

  The other girls gathered at the porch, each chattering about Myrakle's surprise earlier today. Myrakle had never felt so centered in joy and respect. Moving to Bent, Colorado was the best thing to ever happen to her. She turned to Mr. Penella. "Would you like to hear me play?"

  "I would! But I need to go get my fiddle."

  "You play the fiddle?"

  "Actually, my pa and us boys make string instruments like violins, violas, and cellos."

  "Really?" Myrakle turned in her seat to face him. "I'd love to see your music."

  He tipped his head, pressing his eyebrows down over his eyes. "See? My music?"

  Myrakle lowered her eyes to her lap. Oh no! Had she slipped up? It was too soon to reveal such precious secrets about herself. But if she was going to marry this man, she'd better let him know now what she held dear to her heart. "Yes. I-when I had the scarlet fever and lost my hearing, God blessed me with a gift. That's what my momma called it anyway." She scanned the length of the porch, then lifted her eyes. Could he understand? Would he believe her? Would this cause him to get up and walk away, or ask Mr. Redburn for another bride? What seemed perfectly normal to her was very strange to others who couldn't see what she saw. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I... can... see... music."

  "What?"