Daughters of the Heart

by Caryl McAdoo

  “He can court you until he has to leave, that’s four months. Then upon his return, we will set a date any time after your birthday.”

  She scooted back and pressed into the chair. She hated it, but she could wait. That Elijah professed his love meant everything to her. She would be the happiest woman in the world and have the best life anyone possibly could.

  Her love for Elijah Eversole was true, and she loved her father, too. He was the best…well, after Elijah.

  Mama was smiling, too.

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  Bonnie pushed herself off the floor and threw the listening glass against Cecelia’s water closet’s wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces, but she didn’t care. She hated him! And CeCe!

  Tears filled her eyes.

  Bonnie Claire sank to her knees and wept.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gwen hefted the baby higher on her hip and opened the water closet door. Bonnie, who sat on the floor amidst a thousand shards of crystal, raised her head and stared at her with bloodshot eyes, her cheeks wet with tears.

  “Are you bleeding? Do I need to get Daddy?”

  She shook her head.

  “What happened?”

  “I…” She sniffed and swallowed twice. Her eyes narrowed and took on a horrible glare. “I hate them both.”

  What in the world was going on here? “Bonnie! Hate both of who? Then it hit her. “Is that CeCe’s listening glass on the floor?”

  She nodded. “I especially hate him. He’s such a liar.”

  “Who’s lying about what?”

  “Elijah! He just told them all he loved…her!” Tears flowed again, and the girl stifled a scream and hit her own head.

  Crockett leaned out toward his sister. “Want Bonnieeee.”

  She sniffed, wiped her runny nose on her sleeve, then held her hands out, trying her obvious best to smile at the boy. “You love Sissy, don’t you precious?”

  “No, Crockett, she’s sitting in glass.” Gwen hefted him higher. “Who were you eavesdropping on?”

  She flipped her hand like she was shooing a fly.

  “Bonnie, I asked you a question.”

  “I thought Daddy was about to send him home. But instead, he told them they could court! Daddy’s breaking his rule and letting him court Cecelia.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “It isn’t fair!”

  What news. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I heard it all plain as day with my own ear! But worse, I heard Elijah say he loved Cecelia, and she said she loves him.” More tears flowed.

  “Did he say anything about Clay or Braxton?”

  “No.” She started to get up.

  “No, no. Stay right there, and let me get a tow sack and the broom. We’ll pick up as many pieces as we can.”

  “What am I going to do, Gwen? I love him, and I thought he loved me. He sure acted like it.”

  “Bonnie Claire, how’d he give you that idea? Did he do something?”

  “No, well, yes. He kept winking at me all the time every day. And he saved me whenever you and CeCe were being mean. You know that, had to see it with your own eyes. And I just knew he would be willing to wait for me.” She wiped her nose again. “Jacob waited seven years for Rachel. Why couldn’t he wait two and half years for me?”

  “What? Your math is terrible, baby girl. You’re only twelve. Daddy would never –”

  “Don’t say never because he just did!”

  How could she argue with that? Hadn’t she just heard that he was allowing Cecelia to be courted ten months early? She agreed with Bonnie, it wasn’t fair.

  What if she’d chosen Elijah? She should march down there right this minute and give him a piece of her mind!

  “I never dreamed he’d really do it, but they’re in love.”

  The way the little girl said ‘in love’ almost made her burst out laughing. Praise the Lord she caught herself and bit her tongue. Going down there wouldn’t do any good.

  Once he decided on a thing…he was so….

  Then again though, he let Clay come back. “Did he say anything to you about being fifteen?’

  “No, but everyone can see how good a family life Judy Goldthwaite has with her Nate, and that’s the same age she was when they got married.”

  “Oh, sweet Bonnie, Judy shamed herself. She was with child. That’s the only reason they got married.” The second it came out of her mouth, she regretted the words.

  Dear, dear. What had she got herself into? She should never have told her sister that! What was she thinking? The girl’s expression screwed into puzzlement.

  Facing her, Bonnie tilted her head. “How could that happen before they got married?”

  She turned around and spied the broom leaning against the corner. She grabbed it and held it out. “Here. Start sweeping the pieces together, and I’ll get that sack and the dustpan.”

  Soon as her sister took it, Gwendolyn hurried toward the opened door. “We’ll clean this mess up, then you can come to my room. It’s about morning nap time for Crockett. We can talk about Elijah and Cecelia while I rock him.”

  “What if I cut myself?”

  “Just be careful.”

  The quill’s neat compact letters always reminded Braxton of his school days with Sister Jocelynn. He glanced at his knuckles.

  The scars had healed, and he did have a legible hand. Bless the old biddy’s cold-blooded heart. He finished the missive, blew on the ink until sufficiently dry, then read it again.

  May 17, 1853

  Claude,

  Tell the old man none of Buckmeyer’s land is for sale, but have located several nice blocks of timber that if purchased right would bring a tidy profit. Let me know yours and our benefactor’s pleasure in that matter. None of it borders Buckmeyer’s vast holdings, but close enough.

  Like he figured, the man is interested in running in ’60,

  I’ve thought of an angle we can work there.

  A new wrinkle, Henry’s oldest daughter still lives at

  home and appears to be quite smitten with me. As much as

  I am with her father’s wealth and the obvious inheritance.

  She’d definitely be a good catch. Very handsome young

  woman. Not sure I’d ever do better, and she might just be

  the highest prize anyway!

  I’m staying at the Buckmeyer’s, so no boarding expenses, but my cash is dwindling fast. A fresh influx would be appreciated, as there are no saloons or card parlors in this one-horse town. Return post in my name, general deliver

  As always,

  Braxton

  Post Script.

  To maintain my growing relations with Mister

  Buckmeyer, I attended a Methodist Church with the family

  yesterday. Nothing like the mass. I actually rather

  enjoyed myself, especially the singing. The homily was

  long, but at least I could understand what was said.

  He waved it gently several more times then folded it into thirds and slipped it into the envelope he’d already labeled. That got stuffed in his inside coat pocket where it would remain until he got back to town.

  Best see if Miss Jewel saved any cutbacks from breakfast. He’d hate having to spend any of his remaining coin on dinner. But he needed to post the letter. Didn’t dare entrust it to Chester or anyone else who might already be going.

  Cecelia had heard the stifled scream coming from the general direction of her room, but instead of looking up, glanced at the window then turned back.

  Seemed her daddy had thought it came from the children outside. His one bad ear sometimes made it difficult for him to know where a sound really came from.

  “Want me to go check on them?”

  “No, let’s get back to you two.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What it comes down to is can I trust you, Cecelia Carol?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir. I promise, Daddy. Now that’s it settled we can get married next year, I’d
never do anything out of line. You have my word.”

  Elijah glanced at her then back to her father. “And mine, sir. We’ll never be alone again, I promise.”

  She extended her hand, and Elijah took it. Without moving her gaze from the young man’s eyes, she said it one more time. “Thank you again, Daddy.” Finally she turned and smiled her best and biggest.

  He nodded toward their outstretched hands. “That’s it. No other contact. Ever. Agreed?”

  Her ‘yes sir’ followed a masculine ‘yes sir,’ and though he had started it, her words echoed almost in unison. Just like she’d be for the rest of her born days. One with her love. The two shall become one.

  Dropping Elijah’s hand, she hurried to her father. Wrapping her arms around him, she squeezed him tight. “Thank you so much, Daddy.”

  “Good, fine, and you’re welcome. Elijah has work to do now, and you have a chore of your own.”

  “Yes, sir. Monday’s wash day. I’ll go find Gwen and Bonnie Claire.” She started toward the door, eyes glued again to Mister Eversole’s then stopped and turned. “Can I take dinner to him today?”

  “No, he can take something with him.”

  She pouted. “Tomorrow?”

  “We’ll let tomorrow take care of itself.”

  “Yes, sir.” She smiled at Elijah then beamed all around and floated out and upstairs. Gwen’s door was closed, so she eased on to her room. Nothing looked amiss. But something had happened for certain. She strolled into her water closet.

  A crunch underfoot stopped her. Stepping back, she raised her shoe and extracted a piece of what looked to be cut crystal from its sole. Oh, no.

  She checked, and sure enough, her listening glass had disappeared. She marched straight to Gwen’s room, filling her lungs on the way to calm herself. No need to get into a fuss with her big sister.

  Though Gwen had no right listening, it surely must have infuriated her that Cecelia’s marriage had been blessed before hers…her being older and all.

  But this day needed no arguments, being an entirely too perfect one to ruin.

  She eased the door ajar. As suspected, a Crockett-sized lump lay in the middle of the bed. Her sister sat in the rocker working her needle and thread.

  Cecelia held out the shard then whispered. “You know about this?”

  She nodded then looked toward her water closet and mouthed. “Bonnie.”

  The tap backed Bonnie away from the door. Gwen must have snitched her out.

  “Open it now.”

  She glanced to the ceiling, but retreating to the attic wasn’t a possibility. The few times she’d been up there, either Charley or CeCe herself had helped her get through the hatch.

  “Come on, Bonnie. Open up.”

  She didn’t sound too mad. “You going to hurt me?”

  “Of course not. Now unlock the door.”

  “Promise?”

  “Bonnie Claire, if you don’t do it now....”

  Smoothing her dress, she lifted her chin then flipped the lock with every intention of marching out, but Cecelia blocked her way.

  Her sister leaned in close. “Why were you in my room?”

  “Because you can’t hear good enough from mine. Plus your crystal is the…oh well, it was the best….”

  “Exactly. Why did you break it?”

  “I was mad.”

  “Why?”

  How could she ever tell her? She shook her head. Cecelia didn’t need to know anything. “What difference does it make? I’m not mad anymore, and I’m sorry.”

  CeCe glanced at Gwen who just smiled then turned back. “That glass cost me two dollars and sixty-five cents.”

  “Fine. I’ll go get your money.”

  “No, ma’am. You’re working it off. Ten cents a day. I’m getting married, and between now and then, I’m going to need me a chaperone.”

  Oh well, even though she didn’t like it, that sounded better than having to give up over half her coin horde. She hated not having money when she did get to go to town of a Saturday.

  “Fine, but I heard Pa talking to Miss Laura about starting school back up once planting is over, and that’s going to be pretty soon.”

  “Not a problem. Elijah and I will help you with your lessons.”

  Bonnie looked past CeCe to Gwen who smiled, raised her brows, and nodded. “I’ll do it, but I want fifteen cents a day credit.”

  “How about we ask Daddy? Let him decide.”

  Oooo, she hated being the youngest sister and them always getting the best of her. She pursed her lips. “No. Nevermind. A dime will be fine.” She smiled real big.

  A lot can happen between now and next March.

  Chapter Twelve

  The trip to Clarksville produced two boons for Braxton. When posting his letter at the stage office located inside the Donoho’s lobby, he overheard an interesting conversation about a nice block of timberland north of town only about seven miles.

  That gave him a reason to be out and about, but the second bit of news warmed his heart. Seemed there was an out of the way saloon in these parts after all. And darkening the door of the Methodist meeting hall is exactly what got him an invite.

  That afternoon, he spent a rather pleasant time playing poker with gents who seemed to love giving him their coin. As was his custom first time at a game, he gave back almost all of it, right before he figured he needed to leave to make supper.

  Wouldn’t do to get marked as a sharp before time.

  As calculated, he stuck his boots under Henry’s table with a quarter hour to spare. Shortly, the beauties began bringing in the feast. Heaven forbid, he’d marry either of them just for grazing rights.

  But first, he needed to get past Buckmeyer, and according to Clay Briggs, that proved no easy chore. He’d already sent the boy home once.

  Ten, twelve bites into the meal, Henry set his fork on the side of plate, as though the man had real manners. “How’d your day go, Braxton?”

  “Good, sir. Got a lead on a nice block of timber north of town. The Loveless place. You know of it?”

  “Yes, I do, but unless Pete has passed and I didn’t hear of it, you’ll not get that block for market. That old man only trades if he gets the best end plus ten percent.”

  “Don’t know for sure who’s offering it, better than a headright, though, if the rumor holds.”

  “True, and Pete hasn’t cleared more than a few hundred acres last I heard.”

  The creamed potatoes came round, and Braxton scooped three spoonfuls on his plate before passing them. “You interested in taking a look?”

  “No, not me. Might be a fool’s errand.”

  “Possible, but in my business, can’t leave any stones unturned.” This was perfect, give him another opportunity to liberate more coin from that game.

  “Understandable.” The man turned his attention to the far end of the dining table. “Chester, tell Braxton what you read in that newspaper you picked up for us today.”

  The ex-slave launched into a diatribe on politics, then offered a new piece of news.

  Gwen didn’t care one whit for politics, but she did appreciate the distraction that afforded her the opportunity to see how Clay reacted to her studying on the stranger in their midst. His return had thrilled her heart.

  Coming all the way back to beg Henry Buckmeyer for another chance took guts. Then even better that Daddy let him stay.

  No doubt Clay’s mama was plenty upset with him just getting home then lighting right back out again. Seeing how he was her baby. Gwen would hate being the youngest. Poor Bonnie.

  How did Mis’ess Briggs feel about her boy wanting to wed? He obviously loved his mother, talked about her a lot, and didn’t seem to mind her doting on him something awful at church.

  Surely she approved the match. Who might she possibly think was better suited?

  Braxton, on the other hand, hadn’t said anything about his family, well not to her anyway. Strange now that she thought of it. Clay stared at the timb
er man. She grinned. Was that flash of hate her beau was shooting at Mister Hightower?

  Oh, she loved it!

  Though the whole situation with her younger sister and Elijah was rather off-putting, there had not really been any true interest in Mister Eversole on her part. She had enjoyed the competition between the three men being centered on her.

  If one was going to drop out, though, she was glad it wasn’t Braxton Hightower…or Clay Briggs.

  Still, it wouldn’t be right for CeCe to get married before her.

  The Californian, if what she’d heard from Mary Rachael held true, was well off in his own right. Her older sister told her in the strictest of confidences that their gold mine made over a thousand dollars a month.

  Every month, even while Elijah worked on Daddy’s steam engine there in Texas.

  Though Clay’s family seemed financially fine, she suspected old man Briggs wouldn’t be tossing much of it his son’s way, not with seven older siblings. She had a right smart nest egg herself, but…would she ever touch that money?

  For sure she’d not make the same mistake as Mary Rachel.

  None of her suitors would have an inkling about the gold coins her daddy had put back for her and her brothers and sisters.

  “Oh, yes, sir. I believe you might be right about a war coming, but if one puts any stock in what Mister Greely claims, it can be avoided.”

  Giving her a quick glance as though to be certain she paid attention, Clay pointed his fork at Braxton. “Texas should never have joined the Union.”

  Hightower snickered. “With Santa Ana breathing down you Texans’ necks, itching for another fight…if you hadn’t joined the Union, then.…”

  For the next bit, the young men debated. Well, Elijah stayed out of it, but when their tone heated, her daddy stood. “Gentlemen.”

  One word—one not even that loud—and both men fell silent.

  “Perhaps we should refrain from politics until after supper.”

  “Yes, sir.” Clay spoke first, then looked at her. He knew how she disdained the topic.