Satisfied, Drew hurried back to the barnyard. Each of the girls lunged after a squirming piglet while Frieda tethered the skittish horse and Clem chased the dairy cow, who’d pranced off into the grass, as if it ran from the coyote. Diggory barked, but was now securely tethered to the pump, and Birdy beckoned Mama Pig with her hand, nodding. “Come on, Mama. We’ve got good slops for you tonight. Pie. You can have my piece.”
Drew chuckled. Oh, how he loved that woman.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clem go down, like his ankle had given out. He’d stumbled upon an uneven spot, perhaps—
Clem’s arm shot up. “Stay back!”
Frieda hurried toward him anyway. “Are you hurt?”
“Stay back, Frieda; I mean it. I disturbed a snake.” Clem’s authoritative tone couldn’t disguise the slight shaking in his voice.
Drew ran down the slope, considering the tools in the barn he could use as weapons, or to push the snake away long enough for Clem to retreat. The hoe might serve both purposes.
“Girls,” Frieda beckoned, her voice loud over Diggory’s barks.
“But the piggies!” Mary Ann clutched a miniature porker to her chest.
“Coyote’s gone,” Birdy insisted, coming alongside Clement, the hoe clutched in her hands like a sword. Her steps were so smooth, the bell of her skirt didn’t even wobble. “Hold still, Clement.”
Drew reached the yard, scooping a piglet on the way and handing its muddy little body to Polly without looking. “Excellent idea, Birdy. Give me the hoe.”
“Not enough time.” She gripped the business end of the hoe and lowered the handle to the ground, prodding the snake’s body, gently, gently.
A few more prods, and then she stepped closer to Clem. Then closer. Drew stepped behind her, slowly. “Is it a copperhead?”
“This fellow’s coloring is right, and copperheads can become nocturnal when the weather warms up, but I don’t want to kill a snake that doesn’t mean us any harm—and I could be wrong, but I think this is a harmless fellow. I don’t see venom pockets on either side of the head. Remember the shape of a venomous snake’s head, girls?”
“Triangle,” they said together.
“And nocturnal means what, Minnie?”
“Awake at night,” Minnie announced.
“Always the teacher.” Drew took her gently by the shoulders, surprised to feel them trembling under his hands. The snake slithered away into the grass. “I think you can stop now. It’s gone.”
He took the hoe from her shaking hands, wrapped his arm around her, and turned back to his brother—the brother Birdy jumped in to save from what could’ve been a venomous snake. “Do you need help?”
Frieda was already pulling him to his feet. “Did it twist? Let’s get you inside.”
“I’m fine.” Clement shook out his limbs.
“You could’ve been—”
“But I wasn’t. I’m fine. We’re all fine.” Clement’s look for Frieda was so tender, Drew had to look away. A glance assured him Birdy had seen it, too, because she stared at the ground.
Clement shifted beside Frieda. “Besides, we still have work to do. I’m guessing no one shut the door to the pigpen after putting the pigs back inside the barn.”
Drew gaped. Clem was right. Piglets snuffled around the barn doors and trotted in the grass. “Let’s get to work then.” He leaned down to Birdy. “Do you need to go in the house?”
“No, I need to work off some of these jitters.” With a tremulous smile, she slipped from his arm and strode after a piglet around the edge of the barn. “Where are you off to? Are you trying to get eaten by that coyote?”
A loud squish caught Drew’s attention. Mary Ann slipped and landed on her rump in the mud by the water trough. The pig she’d been reaching for skittered away.
Frieda burst into laughter. “I guess you won’t be wearing that to church tomorrow.”
“Me, neither.” Minnie pointed to her smeared bodice.
“I tried, Ma.” Polly’s Sunday dress was dotted with dirt, too, but she was laughing.
“Ah well.” Frieda tapped her muddy finger on Polly’s nose, leaving a streak of mud.
Polly shrieked. “Mother! I’m shocked at you!”
Frieda responded by flicking more mud on Polly, and somehow everyone started laughing and flicking mud while they worked.
Shortly, they gathered in the barn, and Birdy lowered the last of the piglets into the pen, which Clem latched with a loud click. He double checked it and nodded. “I’ll get the cow.”
“What happened?” Drew leaned against the pen, brushing dirt off his hands.
“I let ’em all out. They wanted to play.” Minnie shrugged.
“Oh, did they? Well, they’re going to play in their pens from now on. We keep them penned inside the barn to keep them safe until they’re larger, and now you understand why.” Frieda snorted. “If you could have seen yourselves, leaping over the yard like bullfrogs. I’ve never seen anything so funny in all my days.”
Polly giggled. “And Aunt Birdy, beckoning Mama Pig with the promise of pie—”
They turned their heads to look at Birdy, but she was gone.
Drew had a pretty good idea where she’d gone. He waited a minute before stepping outside.
Birdy and Clem stood with the cow about six yards away, their expressions serious. Then Birdy nodded and extended her hand to Clem. He took it and they shook, a businesslike transaction, but it was a start.
Drew leaned against the barn door, half indoors with the female conversation behind him, half outdoors, with Birdy and Clem in his sights, although he kept his gaze up at the sliver moon appearing in the darkening sky.
“Oh no, supper!” Frieda shrieked, hurrying past him out of the barn. “Wash up, everyone.”
“What about our dresses?” Mary Ann held out her skirt.
“Change and then, oh, I don’t know. Dunk the ones you have on under the pump. But you, Cooper brothers, can eat in your dirty shirts. Just wash your hands.”
“We will,” Clem answered. He nodded at Birdy and led the cow into the barn.
Birdy watched Drew, and a faint smile tipped her lips when he drew alongside her. Ever so slowly, they ambled to the house. He looked down at her dirt-streaked face. “Everything all right?”
“I apologized to Clement for holding a grudge. I want to forgive him for being a Confederate, and I want to forgive him for threatening you, but that doesn’t mean I should trust him if he’s violent. Do you truly think he’s changed?”
“He was never violent, beyond that threat. He was angry at me, broken by the war, and he lashed out in an inexcusable way. But I do think he’s different now. Some people say they’ve found God, but Clement means it. He came all this way to make peace, and what you saw tonight, his concern and affection for Frieda and the girls? That’s all real.”
She looked about to say more, but Frieda returned from the house. “You spoke to Clement?”
“I did. He accepted my apology, gave me his own, and said he truly wants Frieda’s best friend to approve of his suit.”
Frieda blinked back tears—happy ones, from the look of it. Drew’s heart swelled at the knowledge that his brother cared about Birdy’s opinion, knowing it would make Frieda and the girls happy.
Birdy nodded. “I’ll pray about it, all right?”
“I can’t ask for more. I’m so happy, Birdy. I don’t want anything between us when you leave for the job fair in Topeka.”
Drew stiffened. The pamphlet that was for Virginia from the restaurant … Birdy was going, too?
“Oh, you didn’t tell Drew?” Frieda’s fingers covered her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“Not yet.” Birdy’s furtive glance told him enough. She’d managed to change her mind when it came to giving Clement a chance, but she couldn’t give Drew one.
As he trudged in to supper, he couldn’t help wishing more had changed in her heart and mind than her resentment against Clement.
; Chapter 8
Birdy’s heart thumped hard and fast all through supper, all night long, and through the worship service the next morning, and it had nothing to do with the snake or the coyote, or even Clement.
She was afraid, plain and simple. Scared enough to gather her things and run off to Topeka tonight, and the job fair didn’t even start for a few weeks.
But you’re no coward, Roberta Green.
So after church, while the congregants gathered on the lawn and Clement hoisted Minnie in his arms and Frieda asked if they should have a picnic, Birdy moved to stand smack in front of Drew. “There’s something I need to attend to at the schoolhouse. Would you come with me, Drew?”
Drew stared, his eyes wide and blue. “I’m happy to help you.”
Polly pushed forward. “Me, too. What do you need?”
Frieda’s head shake at her oldest daughter was not in the least subtle.
“What?” Polly asked.
“Um, let’s check the piglets and make sure that latch is secure before we have our picnic.” Clement tipped his head toward the wagon, but his gaze was on Polly. “If Aunt Birdy and Drew are finished in time, they can meet us. He and I found the perfect spot on his new land for a picnic, where the cottonwoods give just the right amount of shade on a fine day like this.”
Birdy nodded at him. He winked at her.
Drew’s brows pulled low as they walked the short distance to the schoolhouse. “Did the board do a surprise inspection after all?”
“No.” Oh, this was horribly scary. When they climbed the steps to the schoolhouse, she reached into her bag and handed him the key with trembling fingers “Would you get the door for me?”
“It’s stuck again?” He frowned and used far more force than was necessary for a perfectly working door.
The schoolhouse smelled of chalk, paper, and familiarity. It was her home, in a way, a place where she felt safe among well-ordered items. She strode to her desk, where the pamphlet for the Topeka fair lay, inanimate but practically screaming at her. She turned her back on it. “Thanks for coming with me, Drew. The truth is, the matter I wished to attend to is you. Last night, there was too much going on for us to have any privacy.”
Exuberant girls. Five dresses to scrub so the mud stains wouldn’t set. The fierce, loud pattering of her heartbeat in her ears and her thoughts swirling in a confusing jumble.
Drew stood still as a signpost in the center of the schoolhouse. “Talking to Clement couldn’t have been easy for you.”
“It wasn’t, but you were right. I wasn’t just protecting Frieda. I was angry at him for threatening you and for his part in the war.”
His gaze rested on the pamphlet on her desk. “I don’t like how we left things Friday night. Or last night either. The truth is, I care about you. Enough that I want you to be fulfilled and happy and whole. So I think your trip to Topeka is a good idea. Learn some new things, make friends.”
“I’m not going to Topeka after all.”
“Why not?” Rather than sounding happy about it, he seemed frustrated. “You should do something for yourself, Birdy. You should get a clean slate if you want one, just like the rest of us.”
“The clean slate I need is within me, not outside of me.” Birdy’s palms dampened. “Since my family died—including Emory—I’ve been stuck in a pit of grief. Fear, too. I’ve struggled to forgive the soldiers responsible for killing Lemuel and Emory, but my father wouldn’t have forgiven them either. He held a grudge, and I doubt he would have shown any kindness to a Confederate. I feel like I’m disappointing him by just listening to Clement. But making peace with him? I know Pa wouldn’t have liked it. But you’re right, God calls us to something different.”
“I’m glad you’re closer to peace, Birdy. But Topeka—”
“Yesterday I spontaneously decided to go because I wanted to escape my feelings. Leaving town seemed the best way to do it. I don’t want to escape anymore.” Although her pulse contradicted her, so fast it could probably keep time with a hummingbird’s. “My father wanted me to have a worthy man who’d earned my family’s approval. I have that man.”
His brows knit in confusion.
“Last night, somewhere between you chasing off the coyote and me getting up this morning, I saw the truth, and I couldn’t believe my blindness. How could I not see that you proved time and again that you are diligent, hardworking, fair, righteous, and kind? You repaired the schoolhouse and my home. You’ve demonstrated the sort of man you are, Drew, and I can trust my feelings. If I’m afraid to, though, I can look to my family.”
“But I never met your family, Birdy.”
She smiled. “Not Pa or Lemuel, no, but I realized last night that I have a new family now. Frieda and the girls. They don’t just approve of you, Drew. They think you hung the waxing moon.”
Still, Drew didn’t move. Didn’t he understand what she was telling him?
Then her thoughts hopped backward to his words just now. He’d said it was a good idea for her to go to Topeka.
Last night, while she was realizing the Lomaxes and Coopers were her family and she could trust her heart, Drew must have realized something, too. He didn’t care for her like that anymore.
Birdy’s mouth went dry.
Drew thawed from his frozen pose and hurried toward her—no, her desk. “I need a slate.”
“Did you lose the other one?” Her voice was thick with embarrassment and shame.
“No, but I need to know how to spell something.” He reached to the blackboard for a stick of chalk.
Now? Couldn’t he leave her to wallow in private? “Just tell me what the word is. You don’t have to write it—”
“My teacher taught me that writing helps me retain knowledge better, and I don’t want to forget this.”
He scrawled. Then turned the slate around.
Thou art more lovely and more temperate than a summer’s day. A reference to Shakespeare’s 33rd Sonnet, the first thing they studied. Her insides swooped low. “Drew.”
“Did I misspell temperate?”
“No, it’s correct, but—”
“I’m not done.” Tugging his handkerchief from his pocket, he snapped it open and erased what he’d written. The words disappeared into white particles of chalk dust. He scribbled again and then turned the slate.
I know I can’t replace Emery.
She wouldn’t dare correct his misspelling. Her hand went to her mouth. His hanky went to good use erasing the slate again, and he wrote.
But if there’s any room left in your heart …
Her eyes prickled with wet heat.
Even though I’m no Shakespeare …
She chuckled, which was clearly what he’d intended, because he laughed and, oh, his eyes were crinkled with something that looked suspiciously like delight. Since he was being funny, she fisted her hands on her hips to tease him. “This is a very long sentence.”
“Almost done.” He was still grinning, but when he turned the slate around, there was fear in his eyes.
I will love you with all I am and all I have for all my days.
He was as scared as she was. Somehow, that gave her more strength. She held out her hand. “Chalk, please.”
“What did I misspell?” He said it like a joke.
“Nothing.” She took the slate, wiped it properly with an eraser, and wrote on it, producing the squeaky sounds chalk always made. Then she turned the slate.
You are correct: you are not Shakespeare.
He burst into laughter. “Yep, that’s for sure.”
She wrote, took a breath, and turned the slate around.
I don’t want Mr. Shakespeare, however. I want you.
He waited for two heartbeats, maybe three, before removing the chalk and slate from her hands and setting them on the desk. “But?”
“There’s no but. I ended my sentence with a period, not a conjunction.”
His hands took hers, and he stood before her, lowering his head until his forehea
d rested on hers. “That would be grammatically incorrect, I s’pose.”
“It would.” Her pulse skittered, but no longer from fear. Drew’s breath was warm against her cheeks.
“I don’t want you to miss out on teacher training in Topeka. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Her head shook against his. “I don’t want to go. I’m staying here because this is my home, and I—I love you, too. I fought it, but I didn’t need to.”
“We’re both finding our way. Starting over is never easy.” Then his lips brushed hers. He pulled back to look at her, and then—oh, he was kissing her. Soft at first, but then something changed. He let go of her hands to take her waist, and she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.
Starting over might not be easy, but this was as simple as her ABCs and 123s. Kissing Drew was bliss.
Too soon, he pulled back and enveloped her in an embrace. “It hasn’t been long, but you need to know, I aim to marry you.”
She smiled into his chest. “You want to get married? Wait, why am I the one asking?”
“Because I didn’t raise my hand?” He laughed and kissed her forehead.
“Very funny, Mr. Cooper.”
He took her hands again and dropped to his knee. “I don’t have a ring for you yet. All I have is my heart and the ranch next door to your family. I’ll love you every day God gives us together. Roberta Green, my darling Birdy, will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Her voice was as clear as the school bell.
He rose to his feet and sealed their engagement with a kiss.
The late August morning was hot and sultry, but Birdy shivered as Polly, Mary Ann, and Minnie left her and Frieda in the vestibule to precede them up the church aisle. After waiting a few seconds, Birdy nodded at Frieda.
“Ready?”
“Almost.” Frieda, pretty in her new apple-green dress, bent to kiss Birdy’s cheek. “Thank you for getting to know Clement these past few months. I’m so glad you’ve seen that he’s changed.”
“And next week, you’ll be the bride.” Birdy squeezed Frieda’s hand.
Grinning, Frieda slipped from Birdy’s hold and took her turn up the aisle.
Seven Brides for Seven Mail-Order Husbands Romance Collection Page 23
