“This is a nice spot,” he said.
“Yes.”
They were silent for a few minutes. Sam took another swallow from his cup.
“The boys will miss you,” she said.
“They’re good boys.”
“Yes.”
Sam smiled. This conversation needed a boost. He looked over at her and said slowly, “What about this mail-order husband thing? Are all the widows in town supporting it?”
Her chin rose. “Some. I’m not sure about it. I just don’t want to risk getting some no-good man. My boys …”
“Yes.” Sam knew what she meant, even though she didn’t finish. She didn’t want some bounder in charge of her boys, teaching them bad ways or being mean to them. And what if she got a lazy man who wouldn’t haul and split plenty of wood for her? Who wouldn’t do the careful work Rodney had to build this snug little house and the barn and the masonry wall around the well?
All sorts of things ran through his mind, but no matter how he looked at it, he needed to get a job and earn some money.
“They told me in town to check at the Russell ranch and the Therron place. Do you know about them?”
Maggie nodded. “You might hire on at one of those.”
“I guess I’ll try. If they don’t take me, I reckon I’ll head for Dodge City.”
“They’d be foolish not to take you.”
Sam eyed her carefully. “That right?”
“I think so. You’re honest, and you don’t lose your temper easily. You can see what needs to be done, and you do it.”
“Thank you.” He grinned. “I feel as though I ought to ask you for a reference.”
Maggie gave a little chuckle that warmed him. “If they need help, they’ll hire you.”
“That gives me hope.” He drained the coffee mug. “And I hope … I hope things work out for you and the boys, Maggie.” He held out the mug to her.
She took it. “Thank you. I’d like to know what happens to you—if you get work in these parts or not. I guess that’s asking a lot.”
“No, I could drop you a line. Does Turtle Springs have a post office?”
“Yes. Send a postcard to Margaret Piner, Turtle Springs, Kansas, if you can spare the penny.”
“I’ll find one somewhere,” Sam said, and he meant every word.
They sat for a few more minutes, not talking, looking at the stars and the pasture, rippling in the light breeze. Sam wanted to look at Maggie, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want her to feel as though he was staring at her, but he would if he could.
Finally, she stirred. “I’d best go in.”
He stood and offered her a hand, pulling her up. Her hand was warm in his, and he hated to let it go.
“Thank you,” he said. “It was nice being with a family again.”
She smiled in the starlight. “We enjoyed it. Good night.”
She went inside and shut the door. Sam took a deep breath and turned toward the barn. It was going to be hard, riding out of here in the morning.
Chapter 6
Maggie heard the boys rustling around in the loft before full daylight. She rose, wishing she had risen before them. She wanted time to prepare a full breakfast for Sam before he left.
Just thinking about it made her sad, which was silly. He’d been here for less than a day, and already he’d found a place in their hearts. She would miss him, and she knew the boys would, too.
Benjy had seemed scared of him at first, but after riding to Reverend Smith’s and the doctor’s with him, and then home again, he seemed to have grown attached to Sam. He’d told her how he’d helped get the preacher the help he needed and how he’d let Benjy take care of his horse.
Fred had wanted Sam for his new daddy from the start, only because he was handy. But the more time he spent in Sam’s company, the more that desire seemed to grow.
Yes, they were all going to miss him.
She dressed quickly, in the blue cotton dress she usually reserved for Sundays in summer. She owned three dresses—a warm woolen one for winter, a drab calico for everyday, and the blue one, which was only in slightly better condition than the black-and-gray striped one, but made her feel better. When she pulled the blue dress over her head, she felt this was going to be a good day, which was odd, since Sam was leaving today.
In the kitchen, she swiftly built up the fire in the stove. Thanks to Sam, she had plenty of wood this morning. The coffee was next. That had to be ready when Sam was. Pancakes and eggs for the meal, she decided. She didn’t have any more meat.
Fred came down the ladder backward.
“Good morning,” Maggie called. “Can you check for eggs, please?”
“Yes’m.” Fred grabbed the egg basket and went out, shutting the door none too softly. Maybe he hoped Sam would hear it and come find him. Sam was different from Rodney, she mused. Taller, for one thing, and their features were nothing alike. She had noticed, too, that Sam was left-handed. She wondered if that made some things harder for him, but she hadn’t thought it polite to ask. He seemed to do all right with his reins, tools, and the shotgun.
Benjy appeared at the top of the ladder, yawning. He sat down with his feet dangling over the edge, toward the top rung.
“Mama, I can’t find my socks.”
“Well they’re not down here. You had them on when you went up last night, so look again.” She took stock of her cupboard. She had a few jars of applesauce and plums left from last fall. She chose one of plums. The boys loved them, canned in a sweet sugar syrup. Maybe Sam would like them, too. And she had no sugar left for his coffee, so they would add a little sweetening.
“Morning.”
She whirled around at the deep voice. Sam stood in the doorway with the sun behind him. He wore the same clothes he had the day before, and his chin was nearly covered in whiskers. She wondered if he had a razor. She could offer to let him use Rodney’s. Or would that insult him? With or without the beginnings of a beard, he was a handsome man.
“Morning. The coffee will be ready directly.”
“Thank you. Can I get anything for you?”
“Uh no, I don’t think so.” Maggie brushed back a wisp of hair. “I sent Fred out for eggs, and I have plenty of water.”
He nodded. “I’ll just go help Fred then.”
“Mama,” Benjy called, with frustration filling his voice. “I still can’t find my socks.”
Sam grinned. “Or maybe I’ll climb up and help Benjamin.”
“Oh, would you?” Maggie asked. “That would be wonderful, and it would save me climbing the ladder.” She hated climbing up there in her unwieldy skirts.
“Surely.” Sam moved to the ladder and climbed it like a cat.
She made herself look away and take out the flour and baking powder for the pancake batter.
Fred came in with his basket. “I only got one egg today.”
Maggie frowned. “Are you sure that’s all?”
“Pretty sure.”
She sighed. “I’ll put it in the pancakes, then. We’ll just have to eat more pancakes.”
“Where’s Sam?” Fred asked.
“Helping Benjy find his socks.” She looked up at the loft.
Fred dashed to the ladder and scaled it. She heard Sam’s cordial greeting and the boys’ lower voices then a shrill laugh from Benjy. She hoped that meant the socks were found.
An hour later, Sam saddled his horse, wishing he could put off the parting longer. But it wouldn’t be fair to Maggie—she had work to do. He wondered if Rutherford Grant would ride out here again tomorrow if he didn’t go into the bank and make a payment.
He had to quit thinking about that. Maggie’s situation was no worse than it had been before he came, and he had held the banker off for a couple more days. That was about all he could do for Maggie.
Once Rocker was ready to go, he turned to the forlorn little group waiting by the stoop. Benjy reached up to him, and Sam bent down to hug him.
“You be good, Benjy.
Help your ma.”
“I will,” Benjy said.
“Fred.” Sam straightened and eyed the older boy, searching for a clue to what he wanted out of the farewell.
Fred stuck out his hand, and Sam shook it solemnly, like he would a man’s.
“Take care.”
Fred nodded. “You, too. Ride easy.”
Sam smiled and looked at Maggie. Was that a sheen of tears in her eyes? He knew his own heart was aching at having to leave her and the boys behind. That wasn’t right. He barely knew them. And yet, he felt like he knew them well. This parting was a bereavement.
“I’ll let you know,” he said softly.
Maggie nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. There was no need to say more. Talking would just prolong the pain. The sooner he left, the sooner the boys would forget about him and stop thinking he could help them.
Sam held her gaze for a moment longer then turned away. He swung up on Rocker’s back. The three dollars remaining in his pocket seemed to burn. He wanted to give it to them. But that was all he had left, and if he didn’t find a job today, he’d need to pay for his food while he prolonged his quest. He tried not to think about what Maggie and the kids would eat tomorrow.
He tipped his hat. The boys waved, and Maggie nodded, standing behind Benjy and clutching his shoulders. That was the way he would remember them as he rode through Turtle Springs, toward the Russell ranch. From what Maggie and the man at the restaurant had told him, that sounded like the most likely outfit to hire him right away. He would not think about the odds of Maggie shedding tears for him as he rode away. He blinked hard. He was riding into the wind, and it sure did sting his eyes.
Maggie checked the boys’ hands and faces to make sure they were clean. Reverend Smith had agreed to let the boys wait for her at his house while Maggie went into town for the ladies’ meeting. He was home now, five days after his accident. He was starting to hobble about on crutches. The deacons’ wives went over by turns to check on him and take him prepared meals.
“Now, remember,” she told Fred sternly as they walked toward Reverend Smith’s house, “you have to be quiet. Mr. Smith needs to rest, and if he’s feeling up to it, he’ll be studying.”
“Is he going to preach next Sunday?” Fred asked.
“I don’t know. But if someone took him to church in their wagon, I guess he could. It might depend on how much pain his leg gives him.” She put her hand on Benjy’s shoulder. “So, either way, you boys need to be quiet and not disturb him. He said he has books you can look at. And you’ve got your marbles.”
Fred nodded. “We’ll be good, Mama. Don’t worry about us.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Are you bringing us home a new pa?” Benjy asked.
Maggie’s pulse quickened, and she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I don’t think so. Not today, anyhow. We’re just meeting the gentlemen who’ve applied. If one of them is interested in our family, I’ll probably arrange another meeting, so we can get to know each other better. But I hope to be back for you by five o’clock.” She almost added, “Can you be good that long?” but she didn’t want to imply she questioned their ability to behave.
One of the ladies was at the house when they arrived, and Maggie was glad.
“Hello, boys,” Mrs. Sills said. “Pastor Smith is eager to see you. Why don’t you go right through to his room?”
“Thank you,” Maggie said. “I’ll try not to be long.”
Mrs. Sills arched her eyebrows. “Well, I expect it might take a while to pick out a proper husband.”
An annoying flush crept into Maggie’s cheeks. She could feel it. “Well, I’m not sure about this method.”
Mrs. Sills patted her hand. “I hope you find someone nice, dear. I’ve been praying about it. The Lord knows we need some good, dependable men in this community.”
“Yes, that’s what we’re hoping for.”
Maggie left and headed for the inn, on edge because of the strangers she would be meeting, and because she wasn’t entirely sure the boys would be good. After that stunt they pulled on poor Sam Cayford, she wondered what they would be up to next.
When she came in sight of the Tumble Inn, where the meeting was to take place, several women were gathered outside, talking in small clusters. A few headed inside. Maggie decided she had time enough to dash in and check at Stevens Mercantile to see if she had any mail. If she did, it would be a wonder, as she almost never received anything, but she couldn’t help remembering Sam’s promise to drop her a line.
He’d been gone five days. If he’d found work nearby, surely she would have heard something by now. On the other hand, if he’d had to ride clear over to Dodge, it might take a while. And he might forget.
Chardy Stevens, the owner, was in the store, but she was taking off her big white apron. “Maggie.” She nodded. “Going to the auditions?”
“Yes.”
“So am I. I was just getting ready.” Chardy hung the apron on a hook behind the counter.
“I thought I’d pop in and see if I had any mail—if you have time, that is.”
“I sure do.” Chardy’s smile widened. “And I have something for you.” She stepped behind the post office counter. Hope rose in Maggie’s heart.
“Oh, thank you!” A sudden fear hit her. What if it was a threatening notice from the bank? But Chardy handed her a plain penny postcard, address side up, with her name and Turtle Springs, Kansas scrawled across it. Her heart pounded.
She managed to stay calm and chat for a moment then said, “Well, I’ll let you get ready. See you there!” She went out, holding the postcard against her skirt. She didn’t want to turn it over and read it unless she could find a private spot.
Outside the inn, she saw that most of the women had already entered. Maggie didn’t want to be the last one. Maybe she should wait for Chardy and they could go in together. She couldn’t wait to look at her postcard, though. She glanced around to make sure no one was near, paused at the edge of the yard, and turned the card over.
Dear Maggie, I didn’t get on with Russell or Therron, but I’ve found a place about 20 mi. west. It’s not too far. Thinking of you and the boys and hope all is well. S.C.
She felt warm all over. He hadn’t forgotten, and he’d found work. Not only that, he wished them well. If only a man like Sam was attending the audition today. She clutched the card to her chest for a moment and then tucked it carefully into her handbag. No one must see that this afternoon, but she could imagine Fred and Benjy’s joy when she showed it to them later. Of course, they would be disappointed that Sam had not included a return address, where they could send a reply.
She looked toward the inn. At least a dozen saddlehorses were tied up nearby. A group of four men lingered under a tree across the street. She didn’t recognize any of them, but one of them looked her way and seemed to be taking her measure. Maggie jerked her head around and stared straight at the inn’s door as she approached it. She wished she had waited for Chardy.
She pushed the door open, walked in, and gasped. There were so many of them! Would they outnumber the single women? What were they thinking when they agreed to do this?
Chapter 7
Abigail Melton, the mayor of Turtle Springs, had suggested the idea of advertising for grooms and had set up the audition meeting at the restaurant. Maggie watched, her heart skittering, as Abby took her place at the front of the dining room and smiled at the crowd.
“Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to thank you all for coming to this event.”
Maggie swallowed hard and found a seat after Abby indicated where she wanted the ladies to sit. Each man, it seemed, would sit down opposite a woman to talk. They would have fifteen minutes to get to know a bit about each other. Then the men would move on to the next lady and begin their spiels all over again. Extra men would have to wait.
How many of these men were prepared to marry a widow with children, Maggie wondered. Over a hundred men had responded to t
he advertisements. How many were serious about making a lifetime commitment to one of the women of Turtle Springs?
Josiah Ingram, the new sheriff, lounged in the doorway, his eyes scanning the full room as Abigail explained the guidelines she and the other women had hammered out in their meetings. The prospective brides’ safety was a major concern. They didn’t want any strangers playing up to a lady and then taking advantage of her.
Maggie was glad Sheriff Ingram was here, making the presence of the law felt. He had recently blown into town and been hired by Abby as the town’s sheriff. Maggie hadn’t met him formally, but she’d seen him around town and knew who he was. So far, she hadn’t heard any complaints about him except that he wasn’t available in the husband hunt. It seemed he had his eye on Abby.
Between him and Abby Melton, they would see that everything was done in an orderly manner. While Maggie didn’t know the sheriff personally, she did know Abby. Mayor Melton would not put up with any nonsense.
She flinched as the first man plunked down opposite her. He grinned at her, exposing tobacco-stained teeth and a gap where one incisor was missing.
“Afternoon.” His brown eyes swept over her critically.
“Hello.” Maggie felt her face go crimson. “I’m Margaret Piner.”
“Henry Swan, but folks call me Jug.” The large man’s grin, if possible, grew broader.
Maggie wanted to ask how he got his nickname but thought better of it. If it was because of the odd shape of his head, she didn’t want to embarrass him, and if it was because he was a hard drinker, she didn’t want to know.
“So, Mr. Swan, what made you decide to come to this event?” The women had discussed what to use as opening questions and had come up with a few to get the men talking and perhaps reveal details about their personalities and motives.
“Well, hey,” he said, leaning toward her over the table. “This is quite a sight, you know? All these ladies wanting husbands. I reckon some of ’em’s got houses already, maybe even some land.” He quirked an eyebrow expectantly.
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