Grace (War Brides Book 4)

by Linda Ford

  “That’ll be sufficient,” Willow said, as the crate grew crowded.

  She led the way back between the crowded buildings, picked up a knife, tested it on her thumb then bent over the pail. With a deft cut, she opened the bottom end of the chicken, shoved in her hand, and scooped out the entrails.

  Grace knew her mouth had fallen open.

  Willow scrubbed the carcass in the water, shook it, and held it out. “Ya might as well enjoy this. I got plenty more for us.”

  Grace shook her head. “No need for that.” In truth she couldn’t bear the thought of eating it.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Welty,” Billy said, “It will be a welcome change for us. We haven’t been able to get much meat yet.”

  She nodded. “Figured as much. Didn’t take you for a hunter.”

  Grace shuddered. She longed for a good joint of meat, but preferred to go to the butcher and select it oven ready.

  Billy and Zeke carried the squawking, feathered cage to the car and tied it to the back.

  For the first time, Mr. Welty dropped his chair to all fours, shifted the still sleeping child into the crook of his arm, and ambled to the car. He was a tall, loose-framed man. “See you folks have one of them new-fangled automobiles.”

  Billy patted the car. “A good, solid Model T Ford. Couldn’t ask for anything more practical. Much more sensible than a horse. No hay to put up. No need to clean out a stall. All ready to go at a moment’s notice. Unlike having to harness a horse.”

  There was a gleam in Johns Welty’s eyes. Grace suspected not having to feed a horse appealed strongly to him.

  “Hard to learn to operate one of these things?”

  “Not at all. Grace will be learning to drive this one.”

  Again, Grace felt a shiver of apprehension. She’d hoped he’d forgotten.

  The whole family clustered around the car. The boys circled it, touching it here and there. Mary and Willow peered inside, then stepped back. Two cats meowed over and joined them, wrapping around Mary’s ankles

  “How you fixed for cats?” Willow asked.

  “Need a cat to keep the mice down,” Johns agreed.

  Grace shot Billy a look. Every night they heard mice scratching in the walls. She lived in dread of encountering one when she opened the cellar door.

  Billy smiled. “We do have mice, and Grace is not at all fond of them.”

  “Mary, run and get the momma cat.” She turned to Grace. “You take home this cat and soon there be no more mice.”

  Mary returned with a calico cat and two half-grown kittens.

  Willow explained. “If you take her kittens as well, she won’t be wanting to come back home.”

  It made sense, so Grace found herself sitting in the car with a cat and two kittens in her lap. The naked carcass of the chicken wrapped in brown paper rested between her feet.

  “Them young hens will do fine by you. Let them forage for theyselves and feed them a bit of grain and yer vegetable scraps. Give them a day or two to settle, and then ye’ll have eggs a plenty.”

  The entire family watched as Billy gave the crank a turn or two; the engine coughed, and started. He got behind the wheel, released the brake, and turned around slowly, having to wait while the family parted before him.

  Grace waited until they were a distance from the house before she demanded, “What am I supposed to do with this?” She jerked her head toward the offending chicken.

  “Cook it, I suppose. No doubt there are instructions in that book you have.”

  She shuddered. “I don’t think I can.”

  “Don’t be silly. Where do you think all those roast chickens you love so much come from?”

  “The butcher shop.”

  He chuckled. “At one time they wore feathers and a beak.”

  “Yuk. I don’t want to think about it.”

  “I hear rabbit is as good as chicken. I’ve been thinking maybe I’d shoot some. You could skin and clean one for supper some night. I think I’ll do that.”

  She practically gagged.

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t look a gift chicken in the mouth.”

  She groaned. “Sometimes your jokes are horrible.”

  “I’m hurt.”

  Dust swirled around them. She waved it from her face before she answered. “I don’t see how you could be. You intend them to be as horrible as they are.”

  He chuckled. “Poor Gracie. Just think, you’ll have to put up with it the rest of your life.”

  She thought about that for awhile. The rest of her life to get used to Billy and his teasing and his carefree attitude. The rest of her life to persuade herself he loved her despite her inabilities. A whole lifetime to prove to him she was worthy of love.

  He slanted a look at her, his brown eyes warm and merry. “Well, hey. I didn’t think it was that bad.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Having to put up with me for the rest of your life?”

  “Oh no.” She laughed. “I was thinking it works both ways. You’ll have to put up with me as well.”

  His smile deepened, sending warmth into his eyes. “Know something, Gracie? I don’t think it’s going to be that hard.”

  He drove on. “In fact, I quite look forward to it.”

  “Me too,” she murmured, pleased at his remark. She longed to hear his confession of love again, but she comforted herself that it was implied in his words.

  5

  At the sound of a wagon pulling into the yard, Grace set aside her book and hurried outside. Old Len from the livery barn and another man, a stranger to Grace, pulled to a halt in a swirl of dust.

  Grace wiped the sweat from her brow. The sun beat down as hot as the fire in the stove. Today of all days, when she had decided to bake cookies from the receipt Willow had given her, had to be extra hot.

  Billy stepped from the shadowed doorway of the barn, looking cool and content.

  Grace envied him the coolness of the barn interior.

  “Gotcha a customer,” Old Len hollered. “His car broke down, and he’s in a hurry. I told him you could go as fast as anything in that airplane of yours.”

  “Billy Marshall at your service, Sir. Where is it you’re wanting to go?” Billy asked the passenger.

  “Red Boushee.” The men shook hands. “I’m on my way to an important meeting at the oil fields of Turner Valley. Got to get there as soon as possible.”

  “I can do that.”

  “How long before we can be on our way?” The man jumped down.

  “How long will it take you to climb in?”

  “My sort of man. I’m on my way.” He strode toward the plane. “If you can get me there in time, you can name your price. This meeting is too important to miss.”

  “Wait a minute, will you be wanting a ride back?”

  “If you can wait until I’m through, I will certainly want a ride back.”

  “How long will your meeting take?” Billy strode after the man. “I’m only asking so I can let my wife know.”

  The man finally slowed down and turned around. “I’m sorry. I got in such a hurry, I forgot my manners.” He turned to Grace. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Marshall. The meeting could go late. Would you mind if your husband is away overnight?”

  Charmed by his sudden courtesy, Grace shook her head. “That’s quite fine.”

  “Then let’s be on our way.”

  Grace stood back as they prepared to leave.

  Old Len sat in his wagon. “I ain’t never seen one of these things take off.”

  Grace nodded and smiled. It was obvious he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

  A few minutes later the plane was airborne. Billy waved to Grace, then set a course to the southwest.

  She stared after him for several minutes. Already she missed him and wondered how she’d face the darkness without him.

  “I guess I best get back to town.” Len’s voice startled her. She’d forgotten he was still there. “You be wanting to go to town,” he added, “I
could give you a ride.”

  “Thank you. I’d like that if you can spare me a few minutes to collect my things.”

  “You go right ahead. I don’t mind waiting.”

  She raced indoors. The last of the cookies were done, and she dumped them on a cooling rack and threw a clean towel over them. She hurried about, gathering up her library books to exchange for new ones, considering for a moment whether to return Establishing a Pioneer Home. In the end, she set it down again. She’d keep it a few more days.

  Hurrying out to join Old Len, Grace was amazed at how quickly they arrived in town. He let her down in front of the library, and she hurried inside.

  “Back already so soon, Dear?” Mrs. Paige beamed as she hurried from between the shelves. “You must be one of those closet readers.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean.”

  Mrs. Paige giggled behind her hand. “Of course you don’t. It’s a term I made up. When I was younger I would crawl in behind the coats and hide so Mother wouldn’t find a chore for me to do instead of wasting my time reading.” She snorted. “Since then I’ve discovered people come up with lots of ways to hide their reading.”

  Grace began to grin.

  “One girl said she stuffed her book under the cushions on the sofa so she could pull it out every chance she got, then hide it quick if anyone came in.” Mrs. Paige chortled. “I’ve heard of hiding a book in your apron, behind a text book, even in a coffee canister.”

  Grace laughed. “Long trips to the loo. Hiding in a tree.”

  “Funny how we feel so guilty about such a wonderful pleasure.”

  “Isn’t it?” But Grace half suspected Billy would think she should be doing something more valuable with her time.

  Mrs. Paige talked as Grace poked through the books. “How are you folk settling in?”

  “We’re settling in fine. My husband is away today. He flew a man out to Turner Valley.”

  “How exciting. Imagine being able to fly. I bet it’s something.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been up.”

  “Really?”

  “One of us has to have our feet on the ground.”

  The librarian laughed. “Well put.”

  “We met the Weltys and got some hens from Willow. Now we have our own eggs.”

  “That’s best. How did you perceive the Welty family?”

  Grace recognized the bid for gossip. She wanted none of it. “They were most helpful. Even gave us an oven-ready chicken. It was good.”

  “She’s an industrious woman.”

  Grace turned away to hide a smile. Mrs. Paige’s lips pursed in such a way as to indicate Willow might be industrious, but as for her husband… .

  “The heat’s been hurting the gardens and crops some,” Mrs. Paige continued when Grace kept silent on the subject of the Weltys. “Your garden suffering?”

  “I don’t have one. At least not this year. It was too late when we got here.”

  “Of course it was. What was I thinking? I’m sure you’ll be able to find produce somewhere. Perhaps some of the neighbors. Seems to me Mrs. Welty grows a lot of vegetables. Guess she’d have to to feed that brood of hers.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “And I bet she grows some of those herbs she uses.”

  Interested, Grace asked, “Herbs?”

  “Yes, herbs. She’s a healer. An herbalist I guess you’d say.” The librarian brightened, pleased at having found something Grace was interested in. “By all reports, she really does have the gift.”

  “Or the knowledge.”

  “Yes. Whatever. There are folks round here who swear by her methods.”

  “What about the doctor?”

  “Doc Martin? I doubt he minds. He travels so many miles, he’s probably glad to know there’s someone here when he’s away.”

  Grace carried the books she’d selected to the desk and waited for Mrs. Paige to check them out and carefully mark the due date on the card glued inside the back cover.

  “It was so nice to see you again,” she said, handing the books to Grace.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Grace promised as she left, turning toward the post office. There were two letters for Billy—she recognized the names of his soldier buddies—as well as a letter from Billy’s parents addressed to them both, and one from Irene. She slipped them in her pocket to read at home. With nothing else she wanted to do in town, she headed home.

  At the crossroads she turned left. With the whole afternoon ahead of her, she decided she would visit Nellie.

  Tom, bent over some piece of machinery, looked up and saw her as she drew close to the house. “Hello, there. We wondered how long before you’d get the time to come visit. Nellie’s inside. Go ahead.” He called out, “Nellie, Dear, you have company.”

  Nellie came to the door. “Grace. Come in. I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been wanting to show someone what I’ve been doing. How have you been?”

  Grace laughed at her exuberant welcome. “I’m fine. How about you?”

  Nellie rubbed her tummy. “Starting to feel a little big and awkward but otherwise healthy as a horse.”

  She led the way through the kitchen. “I’m almost ready for baby. See.” She waved at the little items laid out on the sofa.

  Grace stared. “You made all this?”

  “Everything.”

  “It’s lovely.” She picked up a lacy white shawl. “This must have taken ages.”

  “Not that long. I started as soon as I knew I was going to have a baby. There are so many things to get ready.” She touched the little nappies. “Do you think these will do?”

  Grace picked one up and saw that Nellie had handstitched each hem. “I don’t know anything about what babies need, but these look good enough for royalty.”

  Item by item, Nellie showed her what she’d done. “Four pairs of bootees. Two sweater sets. Little shirts.” She held one up. “Isn’t it tiny?”

  Grace touched the garment. “I can’t imagine something that small and yet completely human.” She studied Nellie’s glowing face. “Aren’t you a little afraid?”

  Nellie’s smile was serene. “Of what? Birthing?”

  Grace shook her head, looking away. “Of caring for a newborn baby,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’ve even held a brand new baby.”

  Nellie laughed. “You’ll catch on quick enough when it’s your turn.”

  “I suppose so.” Why did everyone assume she would automatically know what she needed to when the time was right? Somehow she didn’t think being handed a tiny infant would provide her with a sudden wealth of knowledge.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a pat answer.” Nellie touched her hand. “Tell you what. I’ll give you some lessons starting right now, and when my baby is born, I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

  Grace blinked back a stinging in her eyes. “I would really like that,” she whispered.

  “First, you need to prepare for a baby.” Nellie listed the many items needed. She stopped in the middle to explaining how to care for soiled nappies, a bemused expression on her face as she pressed her hands to her tummy. “Put your hands here,” she told Grace. “I want you to feel this.”

  When she saw Grace hesitate, she said it again. “You can feel the baby kicking.”

  Gingerly Grace touched Nellie’s swollen tummy.

  Nellie laughed and pressed Grace’s palm firmly to the roundness. “We won’t break.”

  At first Grace felt only the firmness of the tummy, surprised at how hard and compact it felt. And then she felt an unmistakable thud against her palm and then another, and she laughed. “That’s amazing.”

  “It’s wonderful. Every time I feel it, I thank God for this precious gift.”

  Grace studied Nellie’s serene expression. “I think I envy you.”

  “But why? You’re married to your handsome flying ace. You’re just beginning a new life together. And soon, no doubt, you’ll have babies o
f your own.”

  There was so much Grace didn’t know. “How did you know about the baby in the beginning?”

  “Morning sickness was my first clue. And then the other things.”

  Grace laughed. “Maybe I’m going to have a baby then. Every morning when I get a whiff of that mouse smell, my stomach recoils in the most violent way.” She almost gagged thinking about it. “At least it’s better now that we got a cat and she’s been catching mice by the bushel.”

  Nellie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure it’s the mouse smell?”

  “Yes.” But she wasn’t sure. How could she be? Her monthly cycle had always been so irregular.

  “I’ve been thinking of you,” Nellie continued.

  “Good thoughts, I hope.”

  “Very good. I know you don’t have a garden this year, so I’ve been wanting to give you some vegetables.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Of course it isn’t, but I have more than enough.”

  “If you’re sure?”

  “I am very sure. Now come with me.” She led the way to an immense garden.

  “This isn’t a garden.” Grace gulped. “It’s a farm.”

  Nellie laughed. “I like working here.”

  “Isn’t it a little hard with—” Grace nodded at Nellie’s swollen middle. “You know what?”

  “It’s getting harder as I get bigger, but Tom promised he’d help. Now how about some carrots?” She pulled some and put them in the basket she’d picked up as they left the house. She paused to scrub two clean on a corner of her apron. “Here, try one.” She handed one to Grace and bit down on the other.

  The carrot snapped between Grace’s teeth. “Umm. These are delicious.”

  Nellie gave her carrots, potatoes she stole from under the plant, enough peas and beans for a couple of meals, and beets.

  “This is wonderful. How can I ever thank you enough?”

  “By coming to visit me often.”

  “That’s a pleasure not a payment.”