As she lifted the dress and held it up to herself, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. In bold handwriting the note said:
I’m sorry for what I know I’m about to do, but you’ll understand by the time you read this.
With regards,
Wes
April was so shocked that she thought she was going to swoon. How did he manage to do this? He couldn’t have slipped in here before she got back. Or could he? She had spent awhile at the creek just thinking . . .
Dare she wear the dress? Would everyone know? How did he get in?
Well, she’d worry about all that later or she’d miss the light supper in the parlor. She decided she would wear the dress, so she hurriedly took off her shirt and undergarments and got dressed. It was just a tad big in the bosom but fit her in the waist and lengthwise. It really was a pretty everyday dress, the kind her mother would wear.
April rubbed her hair dry with a towel and pinned it up. She walked over to the cheval mirror, did a quarter turn before the mirror, and was satisfied with her appearance. She’d have to talk with Wes about sending her gifts. It just wouldn’t do. But maybe no one knew but her and Wes. Her face burned at the thought of him buying undergarments. She put a hand to her midriff to calm her stomach, then inhaled deeply and started for the parlor.
“Oh, hello there, April,” Natalie said when April walked into the parlor. “You look lovely and fresh as a primrose in the meadow.”
“Hello, everyone,” April said, tilting her head to May andWil–lard, who sat in the settee across from Miss Margaret. Louise was bent over a small table slicing lemon cake. Beth was sitting on the floor with baby Anne, who played with a stack of blocks, cooing in pure enjoyment. This was the quietest the child had been since April had been around her.
“We’re glad you could join us this evening.” Louise straightened, holding the knife in one hand with her other hand cupped beneath to keep the crumbs from falling to the floor. “We do things informal on Sundays. We only cook one meal on the Sabbath.”
“Yes, so I heard. Can I help you serve the cake and sandwiches?” April surprised herself in asking, but the question suddenly rolled off her tongue.
Louise’s face showed surprise as well. “Thank you. Natalie is so engrossed in the book she has her head stuck in.” Louise glanced at her sister with a frown, who poked her tongue out at Louise, then smiled impishly. Louise just shook her head. “You can start with the egg sandwiches, April.” She indicated the plate next to the cake. “If you could just put one on each of the plates stacked there and hand them out, that would be a help.”
April moved toward the platter and began picking up the sandwiches, trying to be mindful of the egg filling that oozed out when she lifted each one. She was tempted to lick her fingers but refrained.
“How was your afternoon?” Miss Margaret asked, taking the offered plate from April.
She hesitated, wondering how she should answer without telling about the scene with Wes. Finally, she said, “Good. I just went for a ride with Billy in the countryside.”
“That’s nice. It was a good day for that,” Louise remarked and continued cutting the cake.
“You look lovely in that shade of rose, April.” May smiled up at her in her engaging way.
Miss Margaret agreed. “It becomes you.” April noticed Miss Margaret’s soft, wrinkly face held just a hint of a tease, and her gray eyes danced.
“Well, thank you, Mrs. Wingate. It’s very comfortable, which is a lot for me to say about a dress.”
“Please just call me May, and I’m sure Willard would be just as happy if you’d call him by his first name, right, dear?”
“By all means. Mr. Wingate sounds old and stuffy!” His breathing labored as though he had just run a foot race. April watched him take another bite, leaning over a well-formed belly that seemed to perch on his lap.
May tilted her head at him and teased, “Which is exactly what you are!”
Willard wiped his perspiring brow with his handkerchief and winked at his wife. “Watch out, woman, or I’ll have to haul you upstairs and take you upon my knee! Now pass me a nice thick slice of Miss Margaret’s lemon cake.”
There he goes again with his innuendoes, April thought. Do married people really talk to each other like that? Her parents certainly didn’t.
“How about you, Beth? Care for an egg salad sandwich?” Natalie left her novel to assist April.
Beth rose from the floor and took the plate. “Don’t mind if I do. It looks delicious and so does the cake, Natalie.”
Natalie rolled her eyes toward Louise. “I can’t take credit for the cake. Louise made it.”
Miss Margaret laid her needlework aside and picked up her sandwich. “Louise has become sort of an expert when it comes to cake baking.” She beamed at her daughter. “In fact, she made Josh and Juliana’s wedding cake.”
April watched as Louise’s face burned pink. “Really? Then I’m very impressed. I’m afraid I don’t cook and I have no creative talent.”
“I’ll bet you there is something you’re good at and just haven’t developed,” May said, turning to Willard, who suddenly had become very still and quiet. “Don’t you agree—Willard, are you all right?” May suddenly shoved her plate aside and leaned over him. She grabbed his hand and slapped it. His face had gone from its normal pink to a pale gray hue, and he seemed short of breath, unable to say a word and looking fixedly at his wife.
Beth rushed to Willard’s side, leaned down, and unbuttoned the collar that was restricting his throat. She turned to April. “Quick, grab my handbag on the coatrack under my cape. Hurry!”
May was frantic. “What can I do? What’s wrong with him?” The others crowded around.
“Give me some space.” Beth motioned to Natalie. “Help me lay him down, please.” Quickly the two of them gently laid Willard back, and Beth placed a pillow under his head while May removed his shoes. April was back with the handbag, and Beth quickly reached inside for a bottle of liquid. She twisted the cap off and held it under his nose. After a few seconds, he blinked and looked around, appearing very disoriented.
“Willard, can you hear me?” Beth was certainly in command of the situation, and she seemed at ease and was a calming presence. Willard mumbled something inaudible and tried to sit up, but he was too weak. “You just rest easy there, Willard. Everything’s going to be all right.”
He closed his eyes and leaned back onto the pillow as though grateful he didn’t have to get up. May’s eyes were filled with tears, and she wrung her hands in panic. Beth took her elbow and walked her to the doorway, motioning for the other ladies to follow. “It’s best we don’t move him, May. We need to send for the doctor. I’m afraid he may have had a heart attack.”
“I’ll go after the doctor,” April offered.
Natalie took her arm. “I’ll go with you.”
“Please just be quick about it,” May cried.
Miss Margaret put her arm around May’s shoulders. “Come sit down, May. There’s nothing you can do until we see what the doctor says.” She guided May to the chair nearest the settee. May reluctantly sat down, gazing teary-eyed at her husband. She held his limp hand in one of hers and clutched a hanky to her mouth.
April and Natalie rushed out of the house and down the sidewalk in the direction of Mark’s home and office. Though it was dark now, gas lamps lit their way through the quiet Sunday night. Most people were already in for the evening or dining at the hotel or one of the local cafés.
“I hope Willard will be okay,” Natalie said, trying to keep up with April’s long strides. “May adores him and they’re a devoted couple.”
“Me too. I wonder how Beth knew what to do.” April could see that Natalie was having trouble keeping up with her, although April had no clue where Mark’s place was.
“Mark’s office is beyond the sheriff’s sign and just past the saloon there,” Natalie said, as though she’d read April’s mind. She picked up her pace to match Apri
l’s.
Tinkling music could be heard from the saloon as they drew closer, and April saw a familiar lanky cowboy heading toward its door. Was that Wes? She hoped her eyes were deceiving her. As they neared, he paused with his hand draped across the swinging doors and looked right at her.
“Good evening, Wes,” Natalie said, slowing her steps just a bit.
Wes tipped his hat, looking at Natalie and then April. “You ladies seem to be in a hurry to put a fire out.” His hazel eyes lingered a moment longer on April than was decent. She fought the queasiness that rose when she realized he was visiting a saloon. Just the thing she figured Wes would do. Why did the fact bother her? It wasn’t any of her business what he did. But she halfheartedly wished he wasn’t going in there.
“We can’t stand here and chitchat.” April gave him a frosty stare, and a scowl flittered across his face. “We are going to fetch the doctor for Mr. Wingate.” She started to walk past him but he grabbed her arm. April looked down at him as though his hand was a snake. “Please let go.”
Releasing her arm, he said, “I’m sorry . . . I was just trying to find out if I could be of any help.”
“Not this time, Wes,” Natalie said, and they hurried on, leaving Wes looking after them.
Wes hit the saloon doors hard, his fist knocking them aside as he made his way into the saloon and strode straight up to the bar like he’d done long ago. Or at least it seemed that way. A few patrons looked around, the noise startling them from their card game or gabbing as they shared a drink. He put his hat on the counter and ordered a whiskey when Mel, the bartender, walked up. He wanted to get his mind off April in the rose dress, which was totally out of style for her but in near-perfect condition. He should know. He had taken it from his mother’s cedar chest. April looked delicate, fresh, and sweet as a mountain morning. Goodness! He wanted to pull her to his chest and breathe in the scent of her silky blonde hair. Yes, he reckoned a drink would help remove that image.
While he waited for Mel to fetch the drink, he turned and leaned against the bar’s counter, looking around for any familiar faces, but he didn’t see anyone he knew. Several ladies wearing low-necked satin dresses, their faces painted heavily, perched on the laps of several men, laughing and drinking as someone doled out a deck of cards. The piano player, cigar hanging out of his lips, pounded on the keys enthusiastically. Some men staggered toward the dance hall girls as they danced. Out of the corner of his eye, Wes watched a couple pair off and wander upstairs.
Suddenly he felt out of touch. This is how it must look to the person who wasn’t drinking—not a pretty sight. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin and decided he’d had enough. He’d seen that look of disgust in April’s eyes too. This wasn’t for him anymore, and he couldn’t step back into this life again. Not now, the good Lord willing.
Mel plopped the drink in front of him as Wes picked up his hat and turned to go.
“Aren’t you gonna have your drink, Wes?” Mel placed both hands on the counter and leaned over, staring at him.
“I changed my mind, Mel,” Wes said, flipping two coins onto the counter. “Be seeing you around.”
April was grateful for the soft feather bed as she sank down into it and pulled up the toile comforter. It had been a long day. The moonlight danced against the walls, creating shadows from the voile sheers that moved gently with the breeze. She’d left the window open slightly to cool off her upstairs room. Soon she wouldn’t be able to do that if the cold weather appeared before she left for Colorado.
Since leaving home, she had made some nice friends that made staying until Josh returned bearable. The weather was almost perfect, so she couldn’t complain about that either. And now she had a fabulous horse to ride. But she was beginning to miss her own bed and surroundings. She decided that once Josh and Juliana returned, she’d stay only a few more days.
The incident with Willard had been scary, but it had turned out better than April thought it would. Mark told them that Beth had been right. Willard had suffered a mild heart attack and would need to stay in bed for a few weeks. Since he was unable to climb the stairs, Miss Margaret made up a bed in a smaller downstairs bedroom to move the Wingates into. Everyone pitched in to help. May, still somewhat frazzled, thanked everyone for their help and Beth for her quick action. They discovered from the questions Mark asked of Beth that she used to work for her father as his nurse before her baby was born. April was surprised that they hadn’t discovered this bit of information on the long stagecoach ride. But then, she had never even tried to reach out to Beth.
April had enjoyed the rest of the evening with Miss Margaret and her daughters. She had to smile when she saw how the two sisters liked to tease each other unmercifully.
April stayed behind to talk to Miss Margaret. She was nervous about telling her what had happened at Wes’s and having to admit that he was right about her clothes.
Miss Margaret put her at ease and gently told her, “No one wanted to say anything to you to keep from hurting your feelings.”
“I don’t understand,” April said. “I would have wanted to know. As it was, Wes figured that he owed it to me to not only tell me but also throw me into the water trough with a bar of soap!”
Miss Margaret laughed and said, “So that’s why you had no belt or boots on. I wondered.”
“Well, I bartered the boots and belt for the horse,” April said. “He said he was going to give them to his lady friend. I’d rather he not tell me that part.”
Miss Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Does that matter to you?”
“Of course not! I hardly know him—and what I do know is he is not what my father would approve of at all.”
“Your father’s approval obviously means a lot to you—but does his approval mean more than how you may feel about someone? Remember, it’s not what a man possesses that shows you his heart.”
April sensed that Miss Margaret had taken Wes’s side. “Well, I’ve seen his place and he doesn’t seem concerned about taking care of it. Only his horses.”
“Wes cares about many things . . . but some men have to be shown what a woman likes. Could be he feels he’s never had anyone to care about him or about what he thought one way or another. Maybe he had little direction in his life. Your brother had some influence on him just in the last couple of months, and Wes is trying so hard.”
April knew that he and Josh were friends but was still doubtful.
Miss Margaret continued. “How do you think he was able to get that dress for you?”
“How did you know about the dress, and how does that have anything to do with what he’s like?” April asked, wanting to know more of the older lady’s wisdom. Her own mother had never talked with her like this.
“It has a lot to do with his character, April. When I saw him at church, he pulled me aside and asked me if I had talked to you about the peculiar smell on your clothes. When I said no, he said he had an idea that might solve it and would need my help. So I helped Wes by sneaking the dress in your room before you got back from the ranch today. It was his way of trying to help you without further embarrassment. I noticed that you seem to like the dress you’re wearing, even though it’s probably not the kind of dress you’d own.”
“You’re certainly right about that. It’s more like something my mother wears. Funny thing is, the fabric is very soft and the simplicity of it suits me,” she said. Then she confided in Miss Margaret that she’d seen Wes going into the saloon earlier and how it bothered her.
Miss Margaret said softly, “April, don’t judge a book by its cover. Look beyond what you see on the outside. Why don’t you think about what really matters to you?” Miss Margaret then leaned over and gave April a quick hug, much to April’s surprise, then bade her good night and left her wondering about the tall, lanky cowboy.
So here she lay in bed, ruminating about a man she thought was trying to humiliate her, and Miss Margaret told her just the opposite was true. Why get mixed up over someone with as tou
gh an exterior as Wes when her time here was short? Her parents would not approve at all! That she knew for certain. But Miss Margaret had gone right past that by asking what really mattered to her. What indeed? No one had ever cared enough to ask, and until now, April had never considered it either.
Now she was wide awake. Restless, she got out of bed and dug around in her valise for her Bible. She hadn’t spent a lot of time reading the Bible lately, and for a long time now she’d felt like God was far away from her. Tonight she wanted to look to Him for direction and comfort.
She kept thinking about what Miss Margaret said. What really matters to me? April wasn’t sure she even knew or had a purpose. She turned to Romans and started reading. After a while she landed on chapter 12, and when she got to verse 3, something about it spoke to her.
For I say, through the grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith.
April thought about that for a minute. Did that mean the only way she could really begin to understand herself was by learning who God is and what He could do in her life? She had to admit to herself she was not in the habit of putting anyone above herself on a regular basis. A lesson she realized now that she’d learned from her father. Though she loved him, April didn’t want to mirror his aloof attitude toward others. Could she change that habit?
No, but I can, a gentle voice reminded her.
April’s heart thumped as she bowed her head. Where do I start, Lord? I’ve not taken time for You in a long while. Will You forgive me? She paused, thinking. I’m a bit out of practice . . . and I guess that’s why I haven’t been very sensitive to others and say things without thinking how it might make them feel. You know I love my father, but there are things I see in him that I don’t want to become. Help me to see others through Your eyes, Lord, and not mine. Change my heart and help me be a better person. Amen.
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