“I remember.”
“I’m at my wit’s end as for knowing what to do.” Her emotional venting had brought tears to her eyes, and when the pearl she held blurred, she quickly wiped them away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil your moment of joy.”
“You haven’t.” Annie set down her work. “I have to ask you something. Are you sure you want a man who has dragged his feet for so long?”
Charmaine blinked. “Of course I want Wayne.”
Her cousin gave her a penetrating look. “Do you truly love him?”
Charmaine’s defenses were riled. “Or is he just the only man left? Is that what you mean?”
“Of course not.”
“It’s certainly not flattering, I can assure you, to have been picked over like the bruised apple in the bin. Why, Mary Lou Hollister even got a husband, and she’s mean and spoiled and—”
“I wanna apple!” Ruth called.
“I’ll slice you one at teatime,” her mother replied, then said in a low voice to Charmaine, “Now don’t be unkind—”
“I’m not being unkind, I’m being realistic. I’m being honest. And while I’m being honest, is there any reason why Wayne wouldn’t want to marry me? My features aren’t perfect, but I’ve never curdled the cream.”
“Dear one, you are lovely. Lovely, do you hear? Why, I always wanted to look like you, to have your poise and your gift of conversing. I envied you my whole childhood.”
Charmaine stared at her. “You did not.”
“Did so.”
“Why?”
“Well, for one thing your parents were always loving and accepting and treated you with respect. For another you were healthy and able to attend school and play croquet—even though you sat out many an activity to keep me company, and I loved you all the more for it. You treated me with dignity, and you were my best friend. You still are.”
Charmaine wiped another tear from her cheek. “And you’re my best friend. No one except a friend would tell me when I’m behaving like a fool. Remember when I used to affect that breathless Southern accent?”
“You did it yesterday.”
“I didn’t!”
“You did. When you spoke to Jack Easton. Ever so slightly, but it was there.”
“I shall continue to work on that. But the whole point is, Annie, that either I accept that there’s something wrong with me—that I’m incapable of endearing a man—or I believe that Wayne simply needs another nudge to be convinced.”
“What are you planning?” Annie asked, her tone skeptical.
“Nothing specific yet. I’ll figure it out.”
“Just think about my questions, okay?”
“I think about my plight day and night.”
Annie moved back to her seat and picked up the other sleeve. Her fingers moved deftly, threading the needle in and out of the fabric. “It’s nearly teatime.”
The cousins were sipping tea midmorning when Diana entered the shop. “Good morning, ladies.”
They greeted her, and the girls ran to hug their aunt.
“I’m in need of a favor,” Diana said.
“What can I do?” Annie asked.
“As you know, the Founder’s Day celebration is coming up in just a few weeks.”
The other two women nodded.
“I serve on the city council planning board, and we have weekly meetings for the next month.”
Diana was a forward-thinking female, and her husband, Annie’s brother, had always encouraged her. She was always involved in civic matters and was active in supporting political candidates.
“What do you need, a costume?” Annie asked. “I ordered a pattern for a dress with a jacket that will suit you perfectly.”
“That sounds lovely, but I’m afraid it’s another matter. The school needs assistance with their activities for Founder’s Day, especially with their float for the parade and the booths at the picnic. Burdell and I simply don’t have time, and each student is expected to have adult assistance.”
“That sounds too physically challenging for Annie,” Charmaine said, not really thinking of her cousin’s leg, but of the new life she carried.
“Of course it is.” Diana’s gaze was directed at Charmaine. “I was hoping I could count on you to fill in for me again. I know I’ve asked you several times and you’ve never declined, but this is especially important to Will.”
Charmaine often stood in for her cousin Burdy and his wife, and she didn’t mind doing so now. She didn’t have brothers and sisters of her own, so her Sweetwater cousins were her family. “I’ll be glad to do it.”
“Wonderful!” Diana swept forward and bent over Charmaine to give her a hug. “Thank you! There’s a meeting at seven tomorrow night. Will you be able to attend and learn your assignment?”
Charmaine nodded. “I will.”
Diana turned to Annie. “May I bring Elizabeth over to play with the girls tomorrow morning?”
“Rebecca and Ruth are always delighted to have their cousins over,” Annie said with a smile.
“It’s only Elizabeth, now that Will’s in school,” Diana clarified. “Thanks, I’ll see you in the morning. And thank you again, Charmaine.”
The door closed behind her and Annie and Charmaine released their breath, then grinned. “She’ll be running for office one of these days, wait and see,” Annie said.
Charmaine agreed. Some women seemed to have it all.
Chapter Three
Mort Renlow readied a team of horses and a rig for his daughter to take into town the following evening. It was still light, but the western sky was streaked with purple clouds. “You can leave them hitched in the schoolyard for a couple of hours,” he told Charmaine. “If you’ll be any longer than that, you take them to the stable.”
“I shouldn’t be longer than that,” she assured him. She’d been taking herself places since she was thirteen. Her father had taught her how to handle a team as well as a rifle, which was now lying loaded under the seat.
She stretched on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and he stepped back as she made her own way up.
“You and Mother enjoy your evening alone.”
“We’ll just be waiting for you, daughter,” he laughed.
Charmaine drove the team toward town, and her mind wandered to all the times Annie had stayed with them. Smiling, she reminisced about the adventures they’d had. That part of her life had been missing ever since Annie had married Luke. They’d grown up. Annie had her own family now.
And Charmaine was still living with her parents. Her smile faded.
Several rigs and horses were already parked in the schoolyard when she arrived. She set the brake, tethered the animals and brushed dust from her gloves and hem before entering the schoolhouse.
Nothing ever changed. The inside of the schoolhouse looked as it had when she’d attended. She knew everyone, and spent a few minutes greeting the parents. Several children occupied benches at the back of the room. She took a seat at one of the smaller desks in the front, because she could fit and many of the adults couldn’t.
Walter Hutton was the teacher, and he and his wife were seated on a pair of chairs.
“Good evening, Miss Renlow,” Walter said. “Pleasure to see you. Are you representing your cousin?”
“I’m here with William Sweetwater,” she explained.
“We’re pleased to have you join us.”
She was sure they were pleased to have Will in their school. Burdy and her uncle Eldon owned the bank and probably made hefty contributions to school fund-raisers, even if Will’s parents didn’t always show up in person.
Additional parents arrived and the meeting was soon underway. One by one tasks were assigned, and though Charmaine offered to assist with the booths, her request was overlooked. The subject of the float was presented last.
Mary Chancelor spoke up then. “Charmaine has worked on floats for school and church in the past. She’d do a good job organizing that.”
Sever
al others seconded and Charmaine agreed. “As long as I have a committee to help and a good dry place to build the float.”
Several parents offered to help. Charmaine jotted down their names. “We still need a barn or a stable,” she said. “I’d offer ours, but it’s quite a ride from town. We need a convenient place so that the float remains nice on parade day.”
“I have space in my barn.”
All eyes turned to see who’d spoken. Jack Easton sat on a bench along one wall, his hat hooked on his knee. “My place is only a couple of miles to the east.”
“That will be perfect,” Walter Hutton said. “Put Mr. Easton’s barn down. Charmaine, you speak with your committee afterward and schedule work times.”
She nodded.
The committees divided off to discuss their plans, and Charmaine found herself leading a group of nine. “I’ve made enough crepe paper flowers to fill an ocean,” she told the assembly. “The Ladies Aid always does crepe paper roses, so let’s think of something else. Something more suited to school.”
“What do you suggest?” Darlene Redman asked.
Glenda Harper tossed out a few ideas, and her husband, Tom, countered with how impractical they were. “We can’t make a wagon look like a book. Or a lunch pail.”
“Maybe we could make it look like a schoolhouse,” Charmaine suggested.
“How?” Darlene asked.
“Build a miniature schoolhouse right on the back of a wagon,” Jack said, speaking up for the first time. “Paint on windows, but cut a real door.”
“And have a bell to ring!” Glenda added.
“Construction would be up to you men,” Charmaine told them.
The fathers voiced their amiability with the plan.
Glenda grinned and nudged her husband. “Let’s keep our float a secret.”
The committee members looked at each other and concurred.
Charmaine checked her list. “We need a wagon. My father has one to spare.”
“We’re all set then. When do you wanna start?” Tim asked.
“This Saturday?” Charmaine suggested.
Everyone agreed and a time was set.
A boy with black hair joined Jack at the back of the room, and Jack touched his shoulder, indicating the child should wait until Charmaine had gone through the doorway ahead of them.
It was full dark outside, and she tugged on her gloves and pulled her shawl around her shoulders.
“Do you have a ride home, Miss Renlow?”
She gestured to where all the horses and buggies were nestled in the darkness. “Over there. Is this your son?”
“This is Daniel. Daniel, say how do to Miss Renlow. She’s the one who sent the cookies home for you.”
“How do, ma’am. The cookies were almost too pretty to eat, but I ate ’em all.”
“Pleased to meet you, Daniel. Are you enjoying school?”
“Yes’m.”
“My nephew Will attends class with you.”
“Will’s my friend.”
She smiled, wishing she could see him in a better light. He stood close to his father. “I’m pleased to know that. Do you think I can be your friend, too?”
“You’re pretty big.”
She couldn’t resist a laugh. “Big people make good friends.”
In the darkness, the boy looked to his father. “I’ll have to ask my dad.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “Well, good night. I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Are you alone?” Jack asked as she turned.
“Pardon?”
“Is someone seeing you home?”
“I got myself here. I’ll get myself home.”
“We could ride alongside until you’re close to your place. My mount is right over here.”
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I’ll see you in a few days.”
He remained where he was, but watched as she untethered the horses and climbed up onto the seat of the wagon. It wasn’t a fancy enclosed rig like her aunt and uncle and cousins drove, but that had never bothered her.
What bothered her was that she was alone. And that this man was feeling protective of her. The attention was flattering, she couldn’t deny that. No one besides her father had ever expressed concern over the fact that she elected to take a team to town on her own. But he had taught her to handle the horses and protect herself and that was that.
After she’d been on the road a few minutes, the sound of hoof-beats reached her. Knowing instinctively who it was, she looked over her shoulder to see the horse and rider approaching in the darkness. Her heart leaped in anticipation.
The horse drew alongside her wagon, and in the moonlight Jack was clearly visible, his son seated behind him. He said nothing.
“I told you I didn’t need an escort,” she said as the horses lumbered onward.
“Daniel wanted to take a ride.”
“This is out of your way, isn’t it?” She knew it was. He lived southeast of Copper Creek and she to the west.
“Not much.”
Charmaine couldn’t remember ever being at a loss for something to say before, but this situation felt awkward, and so far Jack Easton wasn’t much of a conversationalist.
They rode along in silence, an occasional raccoon scurrying out of their path. The creak of Jack’s saddle and the plodding of his horse’s hooves accompanied the sound of the wagon wheels. When they reached the fields that her father had tilled and planted, she said, “This is our farm.”
He rode another half mile, then reined in his horse. Over her shoulder, she observed them in the moonlight, his wide shoulders and the tilt of his hat, Daniel’s head peeking around his arm.
She gave a little wave, then faced forward. When she looked back minutes later, she could no longer see them, and the sense of loss was unexplainable.
Jack was an unusual man, indeed. A lot of men seemed uncomfortable around womenfolk, but with him it was something more. Almost as though he didn’t trust her…didn’t like her…. Now that thought was silly.
On Saturday, Charmaine helped her father hook up the team. She drove the spare wagon past Copper Creek to a fork in the road, and followed directions to the Easton house and stables.
A few of the parents were already there, and Glenda Harper greeted her. “Hello, Charmaine! I brought sandwiches and drinks for a lunch.”
Glenda was Mildred Sweetwater’s housekeeper, and Charmaine had eaten her delicious cooking more times than she could count while visiting Annie over the years. “How thoughtful of you. I should’ve thought of it.”
“I’m guessing this will be our longest work day, what with the men having to figure out how the structure will be built and getting the frame together.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
Glenda’s husband, Tom, joined them. “This is the wagon?”
“It is. Do you want me to take it into the barn?”
“Why don’t we leave it out here for now,” he replied. “We can move it inside when we’re finished for the day.”
She tied the reins and climbed down.
Jack had been standing to the side, but he walked forward now to unhitch the team. He spoke to the animals in a soothing low-pitched tone. The horse nearest him, nudged his chest in a friendly manner, and Jack scratched its forehead. He led both horses to one of his corrals and released them.
Isaac Redman, Darlene’s husband, had brought boards and scrap lumber in the bed of his wagon, so the men inventoried their supplies and got to work. They built the frame on the ground, then lifted it to the flatbed wagon before adding the sides, which would make it heavy.
Harry Stevenson had brought a partial bucket of red paint, and he assigned the women the chore of stirring it and readying the brushes.
Daniel Easton hung back from the Parker boys who were playing marbles on a hard patch of dirt. He was a slender child, with midnight-black hair and a wary look in his deep brown eyes. His eyes were like his father’s, Charmaine noted, shuttered eyes th
at made a person wonder what he was thinking.
She walked over to stand beside him. “Do you like to play marbles?”
He didn’t look at her, but shook his head.
“How about jacks?”
He shook his head again.
“What do you like to do?”
He glanced to where his father was working, then up at her. “I have a bow. I like to shoot arrows.”
Charmaine was fascinated. “I’ve never seen a real bow and arrow. Only pictures.”
He looked toward his father again, indecision on his young face. “I can show you.”
She checked and saw that Jack and the others were occupied. She could spare a moment or two. “Okay,” she said with a nod.
He grinned and gestured for her to follow.
Delighted, she ran after him. She’d made a new friend.
Chapter Four
Charmaine had worn her oldest dress and shoes, so she didn’t mind picking her way across the dusty ground to the rear of the barn. Nearly a dozen animals had been created out of burlap bags and set in various hiding positions beside clumps of buffalo grass and patches of weeds. Charmaine recognized a coyote, a raccoon, birds, rabbits, a squirrel and a fox. Each of them bore holes exposing their straw stuffing.
“Did your father make these for you?”
Daniel said he had. He walked to a chest set against the rear of the barn and took out a bow and a quiver of arrows.
She admired the quiver made of soft leather with intricate beadwork. “That’s beautiful.”
He slung it over his shoulder and proceeded to take a stand in the grass. Reaching back for an arrow, he placed the nock into the waxed string, drew the bow tight and squinted along its length.
With surprising agility, he released it, and the arrow soundly pierced the chest of the coyote target.
“That was amazing!” Charmaine had never seen anyone shoot an arrow before. “Can you do that every time?”
“It’s easy to hit a standing target,” he told her. “Harder to hit the real thing. Coyotes don’t stand there, still-like.”
“Have you ever actually hit a real animal?”
Wed Under Western Skies Page 13
