A Love of Her Own

by Maggie Brendan

  Ed’s faced turned a mottled pink. “Please, Miss McBride, I wouldn’t joke about a thing like this, but I’m sure if you check back next week, there should be vacancies. September is a busy time for the hotel. You know, people wanting to get away from the big city of Billings to enjoy the mountains and the fall color.”

  “Is there a problem, here, Ed?” A tall woman with auburn hair piled high on her head walked over to them and propped an arm against the counter.

  “Er . . . no, ma’am,” Ed answered nervously. It was obvious that he was trying to be as polite as possible to her.

  The woman turned, and her hazel eyes swept over April’s appearance. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere? Oh yes, now I remember. You were at the wedding yesterday.” Ed scurried back to what he was doing, leaving the matter in the woman’s capable hands.

  “Yes, I was.” April extended her hand. “I’m April McBride, Josh’s sister, but I don’t believe we’ve met.” April could tell by the woman’s forward style that she could be someone to contend with.

  “Nice to meet you,” the woman replied. She quickly shook April’s hand, then took a step back, an odd look registering on her freckled face. “I’m Marion Stockton. My father owns the hotel. I am sorry, but I’m afraid that Ed is right. We are booked.”

  The odd look was not lost on April. “I see. Well then . . . I’m sorry to have troubled you. I guess it’s meant for me to stay at Miss Margaret’s boardinghouse until my brother returns.”

  Marion arched an eyebrow. “You could do worse. Miss Margaret is a very sweet old soul.” Her gaze flew to the wide double doors just as Billy carried a washtub into the foyer.

  April had her doubts about that but turned to Billy as he approached. “I’m sorry, Billy, but you’ll have to carry my things back to the wagon.”

  “How come?” he asked with an inquisitive look on his face.

  Marion answered for her. “The hotel is booked solid for now. From the looks of it, you need a trunk for your clothes, Miss McBride. What happened to your luggage?”

  April felt suddenly weary and dragged a loose hair across her forehead, tucking it behind one ear. “You’re right, Miss Stockton. I do need a trunk. But for now, this will have to suffice.” She chewed on her bottom lip, knowing full well that she didn’t have a lot of money left at the moment, and she almost laughed hysterically. The daughter of a wealthy cattle baron with little money, wearing a crumpled party dress, dragging around a tub filled with damp and wrinkled clothing, and living at a boardinghouse. How ludicrous she must look. No wonder Wes gave her a strange look. “Billy, just take me to Miss Margaret.”

  “Whatever you say, Miss April.” He lifted the tub with a groan while Marion opened the door for him and watched as he disappeared down the stairs.

  Marion turned to April. “I’m truly sorry for the inconvenience. And please, call me Marion—Miss Stockton sounds sooo old.”

  Guessing the fact that she was unmarried was a thorn in her flesh, April said nothing but nodded her head. “Agreed, if you will call me April.” She started to leave. “I need to go get changed. Nice to have met you, Marion.”

  “I’m sure we’ll run into each other around town. If there’s anything at all you need or if I can help in any way, let me know. Your brother Josh is a very special man.”

  Was April imagining it, or did her eyes mist up? She made a mental note about that. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, Marion. I’m a very resourceful person. Good day.” She lifted her skirts, then hurried outside and climbed back into the wagon with Billy. April couldn’t help but notice the disgusted looks cast her way from the same two ladies on the porch twittering behind gloved hands.

  Marion watched from the door with a curious look, but April paid her no mind as Billy led his horse and wagon away with a flick of the reins.

  8

  Margaret helped Louise set the table for supper and listened to Natalie happily humming a tune over the din of the rattling of pots coming from the kitchen. Tonight she and Natalie had a big pot of chicken and dumplings simmering, and she hoped that her daughter kept her mind on the task of dinner; otherwise the dumplings would stick to the bottom of the pan. Margaret was pleased that she had a couple of new boarders—a somewhat retiring young woman with a small baby, and an older couple. It was always better to have more at the table to ensure engaging conversation—and it was good for business.

  “Mother, I’m going to go check on dessert. Back in a few moments.” Louise pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen and disappeared.

  Margaret watched her daughter hurry into the kitchen and marveled at how conscientious she was. Everything she did must be perfect, whether it was her sewing, helping at church, or helping to run the boardinghouse. Natalie and Louise were entirely opposite in their manner and attitude. Margaret wished she could get Louise to relax and enjoy living more than worrying about every little detail. She knew that Louise could come across as overbearing, but her daughter only desired to please others, to the point of not caring for herself. I wonder how I can get her to soften her approach and get her to dress a little less matronly, so some nice man could penetrate that austere exterior of hers . . .

  The front door rattled open and the bell overhead chimed, so Margaret laid down the handful of forks and made her way to the entryway as fast as she was able with the aid of her cane. It was April, looking a little the worse for wear, along with the lad Billy. April’s hair was a mess, and her dress was torn and dirty.

  “April! Are you all right?” Margaret touched the sleeve of April’s dress.

  April giggled. “Oh, hi, Miss Margaret. Excuse my appearance. I had a little washing to attend to today.” She turned to Billy. “Just set that tub at the door of my room, number 6, at the top of the stairs on the left.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Billy hoisted the tub to his shoulder and started up the stairs.

  April turned back to Margaret. “What time is supper? I’ll need to get changed.”

  “Indeed you will. We’ll eat at 5:30 sharp. We have several new boarders joining us tonight and I don’t want to keep them waiting, so you’d better hurry on up if you intend to eat with us.” Margaret saw April’s brows knit together in a frown on her pretty face.

  “Hmm . . . I guess I may as well. It’d be fun to meet some new people in town, and I have no one else to have dinner with tonight.”

  “Yes, I can see that, but I’m sure that will change soon, my dear, when the word gets out that there is a pretty and available young lady in town.”

  April stared back at her as though she thoroughly agreed with Margaret’s assessment. “You’re probably right. It’ll be a week before my brother returns.”

  Billy came back downstairs, taking the steps two at time. He nodded to Margaret and turned to April. “If you decide that you want to go over to Wes’s and pick out a horse, I’d like to go with you. I know a little about horses myself. Just let me know. I’m going on back to the stage depot now.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

  April fished around in her coat pocket, and Margaret saw her distress. Margaret reached into her dress pocket, handed Billy a quarter, and winked at April, who looked relieved.

  Margaret wondered if Billy had found a job and a place to sleep, so she decided to just ask him. “Billy, where are you staying?”

  He smiled. “Miss Margaret, thanks for asking. Mr. Kincaid is letting me bunk at his place and gave me a job too.” His voice cracked a little with a high pitch, then returned to normal, but he didn’t seem embarrassed by it.

  “Ah, that’s wonderful. He will treat you fairly while you’re in his employ, and you’ll learn a lot from him.” Billy was bursting with youthful eagerness, and Margaret was eager to find out more about him but refrained from plying him with too many questions.

  “Yes, ma’am! I think he will. I’d love to learn how to drive that team of horses, but he won’t let me . . . at least not yet.” Billy shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, Miss April, if you won’t be n
eedin’ anything else . . .”

  April crooked her arm through his and walked him to the door. “Thanks for all your help this afternoon, Billy. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t stepped in to assist me.”

  Margaret watched Billy’s face light up as he gazed up at April.

  “Shucks, anything you need, Miss April, just let me know. I’d better get back over to the depot now and see what else needs to be done before dark.” He turned, flashing a smile at Margaret. “This is a job that I intend to keep. Good-bye, ladies.” Billy turned to go and winked at Margaret.

  “Good-bye, and stop back by anytime, Billy,” she answered, leaning forward on her cane. “Anyone who’s new in our town is entitled to a free supper at the boardinghouse.”

  “Is that a fact, Miss Margaret?” Billy paused. Margaret’s eyes flicked over his thin frame. Yes, he could surely use a good home-cooked meal and a haircut!

  “Of course, my dear boy.” Margaret touched his arm briefly, peering over her spectacles into his warm brown eyes. She noticed fine peach fuzz along his upper lip and jawline. Soon to be a man, she thought. “Supper’s always at 5:30.”

  “I promise to take you up on that real soon. It sure smells good!” He pulled open the oak door with its lace-curtained window and skipped on down the sidewalk, whistling a tune as April stood on the porch and waved good-bye.

  What a sweet attitude he has, Margaret thought. He reminded her of Albert growing up—a hard worker and full of energy.

  “Miss Margaret, I’ll need an iron to press my dress for dinner. Where might I find one?” April asked. She knew better than to ask if there was someone else who could do the ironing for her, since Natalie had already informed her that they were merely a boardinghouse and not a hotel with extra services. She would have to figure some things out on her own. But there was no need to let them know that.

  “You’ll find one in the closet at the end of the hallway on the second floor, right down the hall from your room.” Miss Margaret turned to go back to the dining room. “See you at supper, April. I must go finish setting the table.”

  April watched the older lady as she tapped her cane against the hardwood floor toward the other side of the house. She must have arthritis like her own grandmother had in her old age. She had to admire that it didn’t appear to slow Miss Margaret down at all. From what she could tell, Miss Margaret was definitely a strong, feisty old lady.

  April took out her key and unlocked her door, then dragged her tub of clothes into her room. After several frustrating attempts, she was able to strike a match on the hearthstone and start a decent fire in the fireplace. After retrieving the iron, she set it on the grate to heat while she stripped off her ruined dress down to her chemise. Then she started working on her tangled hair. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. What a sight she was! She’d never looked worse. She quickly lifted her mass of hair, and after giving it a swift brushing, she pulled it up into a chignon with the use of her tortoise hair combs. She poured cold water from the pitcher into the bowl on the sink table and splashed her face. The fire radiated nicely, and her skin felt warm.

  The iron should be hot now. It looked simple enough. She’d observed her maid ironing before, but she had never really paid much attention to how she actually did it. It couldn’t be that hard, could it?

  She draped the striped percale dress over the ironing board and touched the fabric with the hot iron, running it up and down along the skirt material, but she wasn’t sure what to do about the folds gathered at the waist. Every time she pressed one fold out, it seemed that she only made matters worse and wrinkled the other folds gathered closely together, causing long creases down the front. How was she going to keep from having so many creases with all those pleats? She had no idea, so she paused to contemplate the problem. Suddenly she smelled scorching fabric and quickly removed the iron to reveal its outline transferred nice and brown onto the blue material.

  April muttered an oath. “It’s like trying to saw sawdust—next to impossible!” She decided that it wasn’t too noticeable since it was in the back fullness of the dress. She had never liked women’s work and didn’t suppose she would start now. Oh well, I won’t be meeting royalty.

  She glanced at the clock and realized she had only minutes to spare. She flicked the hot iron over the worst of the wrinkles and slipped the dress over her head, being careful not to muss her hair. It would have to do. It was too much folderol for her to care one way or the other. She splashed a tiny bit of rose water on her neck and wrists, then stepped back to admire her slender figure with an appraising smile.

  Delicious smells led her to the dining room, where the sound of chattering voices greeted her. She was looking forward to meeting the new boarders. But after entering the dining room, April tried to hide her disappointment when she saw who the boarders were.

  Seated left of Louise were Willard and May Wingate, the boorish older couple who had traveled with her on the stage. The shy Beth sat next to Miss Margaret.

  Willard stood as she approached the table. “What a nice surprise, Miss McBride!” he said, hooking his thumbs into his worsted vest. Its buttons threatened to fly off in all directions at any given moment from the taut pressure on the fabric.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Wingate. So we meet again.” April took the seat next to Natalie in a chair that Willard pulled out for her. “I thought you would be staying with your family.”

  May jumped right in. “Oh heavens, no! They have a full house. It’s much easier to stay here and have a room all to ourselves, isn’t it?” She squeezed the top of her husband’s hand firmly and smiled sheepishly at him.

  “Yes, dear . . . unless you make my heart work overtime.” He winked at May, and her round face turned pink.

  “Since you’ve met the Wingates, you probably know Beth Reed,” Miss Margaret said as she lifted her napkin.

  Beth lifted her chin and, with a timorous look at April, said, “Good to see you again, April.”

  “And you, Beth. Where is little Anne?” April asked.

  “Sleeping well in my room. Thanks for asking.”

  Natalie said, “Since we all have met, why don’t we say grace and then we can converse as we eat?”

  “Excellent idea!” Willard said. “I confess I’m nearly starving.” “Then you’ll love Natalie’s chicken and dumplings,” Louise said. “She makes the best!”

  April frowned inwardly. Having had that meal for lunch, she didn’t find it appealing. What she really wanted was a steak or roast with potatoes and gravy.

  Miss Margaret said grace, and Louise served the steaming dumplings from a huge tureen in the center of the table while everyone passed their bowls to her. Louise passed warm rolls around the table. Ahh, hot bread . . . now that was April’s weakness. She could make a meal out of bread and strawberry jam. Surprisingly, the dumplings were light and fluffy and definitely better than what she had eaten at the café.

  Conversation flowed about the mining and the town’s activities, and April was enjoying the warmth of Miss Margaret’s home. Louise asked her if she would tell them a little about herself.

  April thought a moment before answering. “My father—and Josh’s father—raises the best cattle in Colorado. I guess you could say I’m a bit of a tomboy. I prefer riding horses and the outdoor range to being inside doing ordinary woman’s work.”

  “What’s wrong with being a woman and doing household chores?” May said, a tinge of pink staining her cheeks.

  “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. It just doesn’t hold my interest,” April answered. Natalie and Louise stared down the table, silent.

  “Well, I never—” May sputtered.

  Willard cleared his throat. “Doesn’t matter, dear, when she finds the right man, I’m sure she’ll settle down and become a wonderful housewife.”

  “Oh, Mr. Wingate, I hardly think that will happen.” April hurried to assure him of how she felt. “Training horses and running cattle are m
ore to my liking. I don’t need a husband to do that.”

  “But surely you want a husband and family.” Louise’s wide eyes showed surprise at April’s admission.

  “I wouldn’t say never, but I can’t see myself sitting home darning socks and washing clothes.” Suddenly April thought of earlier this afternoon as she and Billy had doused her clothes in the creek. She almost laughed out loud but hid her smile behind her napkin.

  Willard grunted his displeasure at her remarks. “It’ll happen to you, just like it does to every female I know who wants to take care of her man and make him happy and give him children. A woman’s place is in the home.”

  “That’s what I say too,” May said.

  April shook her head. “No, I don’t agree that every woman wants to become a slave to a man’s desires and stay home tied down with children, wiping noses and changing diapers—sorry, Beth. Why, some women even go to college and become doctors or nurses or work in offices. There are other things in life than a man’s ego!”

  “My! You just canned him like a cleaned peach, April.” Miss Margaret chuckled. “Perhaps we need to be clear that God wants each of us to aspire to our dreams and the abilities He has given each of us in order to have a good future. For some, that means family and children, and we are not to point fingers when someone else’s ideas don’t line up with what we think one should be doing.” She looked over at Beth, who was staring down into her plate with a face of stone.

  April was acutely aware that she shouldn’t have made the remark about children, despite her brief apology. “Again, Beth, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out sounding that way about children. I’m sure you are very happy being at home with your baby.”

  “You have no idea what it’s like.” Beth’s face showed little expression as she pushed her chair back. “If you don’t mind, everyone, I need to go check on Anne,” she murmured, then turned to Natalie. “Thank you for the delicious dumplings.” She quickly left the dining room.