Debbie tucked her chin in, hiding her face. “Only because you were preparing the beans for dinner tomorrow.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Zack’s smile radiated from somewhere deep within. He might be bone tired, but his mind seemed to be far, far away. From what Debbie could tell, he was strong enough to withstand the trials life would hurl at them.
After dinner, Papa reached for their family Bible, one of five treasured books, sitting on a shelf next to the kitchen. He opened to the eighth chapter of John.
“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” Zack’s voice echoed the familiar verse. “That’s one of my favorites. I thought on it a lot during the war.”
“But what is truth? During the war it didn’t seem as clear,” Debbie said.
Zack brightened. “You’re quoting Pilate.”
Debbie reviewed the accounts of Jesus’ trials. “I guess I am.”
Zack drummed his fingers on the table. “Jesus didn’t answer, so take my answer with a grain of salt. Here’s the easy answer: Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. Jesus, the truth, will set us free. We’re to speak the truth. Don’t tell lies. Honesty.”
Papa nodded his head, and Debbie basked in his approval.
“But other times we are told to live the truth, to be true,” Zack continued. “Or God makes us true. That’s when I scratch my head.” He took another helping of potatoes.
Debbie liked what she heard. “Integrity.” She had wanted a man who loved God, a deep thinker.
Zack nodded as he ladled gravy onto his potatoes. “What I claim to be should match what I do. The war turned everything upside down. Christian men on both sides believed they were doing God’s will, but we disagreed about what that truth was.”
“Traitorous slave holders.” Papa had no patience for the enemy, who’d caused the death of his son.
Zack said no more. A wise move, but Debbie was sorry for the discussion to end.
After dinner, Zack scrubbed his hands clean, and Debbie brought out the bag balm. The more dirt disappeared, the more she saw of his swollen, angry fingers and palms. Tears pushed against the back of her eyelids. “How did you get through the afternoon?” She kept her voice to a whisper. From their spot near the fireplace with the fire crackling and the noise of Mama washing dishes, she doubted they could be heard. Still, Papa had the hearing of an owl when he chose to listen.
Debbie rubbed balm over the center of Zack’s right palm.
“By thinking about the meaning of truth?” His lips turned into a grin. “It helped when I remembered the pretty strawberry blond I happened to meet at the audition.”
Her finger slipped across his hands, laying a strip of balm on his shirt cuff. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” He bent his head near her ears and whispered, “I meant what I said.”
A tall shadow loomed over them and they sprang apart. “Do you think we’ll start plowing under tomorrow?”
Debbie’s lips formed a protest, but Zack spoke first. “There’s a good chance we will.” He pulled his gloves over his tell-tale hands. “I don’t know much about farming, but I do know the planting season waits for no man.”
“Now, Papa. Zack traveled all the way to Turtle Springs to meet Debbie at the audition. Give them some time together.” Mama joined them by the fireplace. “Zack, you should see a Kansas sunset. Nothing beats sunrise over the ocean, but sunset here gives it a run for the money. Check it out.” She pushed the young couple out the door.
Debbie swallowed a giggle, but Zack seemed at ease. He meandered around the yard. “Without the sun or a compass, I’m not sure if I could tell directions.” He spoke loud enough for Papa to hear. “Let’s check out that sunset.”
Grabbing her hand, Zack led her farther away from the soddy. “I wondered if we could talk for longer than five minutes without an audience.”
Debbie giggled. “Perhaps I should have warned you yesterday, but other things seemed more important.”
“And I could say, you deserve someone who doesn’t need instructions in every step of growing crops. But here we are, and I’m not sorry.” A grin flit around his face. “Not yet.”
Debbie laughed again. Something about Zack helped her to laugh. “Then I will work twice as hard, so you won’t change your mind.”
His hand tightened over hers as they watched the sunset. The bare soil he and Papa had uncovered shivered beneath its halo, a tiny piece of the vast prairie before them.
“Did you ever want to be a farmer?” Debbie hoped and prayed he’d say yes.
Zack twisted a blade of grass between his fingers. “Part of me thought a life surrounded by animals, along with a troop of boys to wrangle with, might be fun. But farming as a career? I didn’t really consider it, no.”
A troop of boys. So like a man to want sons. “What do you think of farming after one day?”
“I don’t judge anything after only twenty-four hours. Even pretty girls can be ugly inside.” His eyes slid in her direction. “Although, so far you keep getting prettier.”
Heat like the slanting rays of the sun rose in her cheeks. “Be serious.”
“I am serious.” He pointed in the distance. “That patch of land represents a new beginning. Everywhere I’ve been since the war started, things got changed around. Fields and houses burned to the ground. Factories and businesses abandoned. Some had it better, some had it worse. After all that, growing crops and raising cattle—putting food on the table—seems like a good place to start.”
Zack plucked a sunflower and handed it to her. “And what about you? Did you ever want to try city life?”
Debbie accepted the flower—tall and sturdy like the grass, a splash of yellow against the green carpet. “I can’t imagine not having a garden. Every summer, we gathered bouquets of wildflowers, arrowheads and asters, doll’s eyes and bluebells, and so many more. I don’t know the names of the flowers here, and they don’t seem as pretty, at least not to me.” What a petty thing to complain about. “We’ll have a garden here, if we can get Maine’s flowers to take root. Maybe next year.” She gestured across the fields. “Or maybe not until we’ve proved up the homestead.” A garden, a few rows of fleeting beauty, for no other reason than to bring joy and celebrate God’s creation.
“You’ll have that garden before then.” Zack’s face was set in grim lines. “I promise you that. If I do nothing else for you during this audition.” He pulled Debbie close. She laid her head against his shoulder, their hearts beating as one, until the first stars appeared in the sky.
Zack woke before sunrise in the morning. He meant to start on his promise to Debbie immediately. Hopefully he could squeeze out a few minutes before Charles wanted to leave.
During the war Zack had nailed the art of moving silently. No one heard as he stepped outside and checked the stall for a rake and hoe. He didn’t rightly know the best place for a garden. His mother had groomed a vegetable patch on the south side of the house, near the kitchen door. Of course, the soddy only had one door, but the land on the other side of the stove faced the growing clearing. They had their laundry equipment on that side, since it was closest to the river. They might eventually plant a vegetable garden on that side, but not flowers.
In front, traffic would trample anything underfoot. That left the sleeping end of the soddy or the back. The beds, he decided. What point was a flower garden where Debbie would rarely see it?
“There you are.” Charles sounded irritated. “Come inside. Breakfast is ready.”
Zack stood in the doorway for a brief second, studying the angle of the sunrise. Unless the clouds deceived him, Charles had arisen earlier today than yesterday. Disappointment took hold, but Zack held his tongue.
Zack loved watching Debbie. He did more looking than eating during breakfast, spooning food in mindlessly.
Debbie caught him staring at her and blushed lightly. “It’s simple fare today.” Flapjacks and sausage didn’t weigh down the table like
yesterday, but a bowl filled with a heap of fluffy, scrambled eggs more than made up for it. “We’ve packed some ham biscuits for you to take with you.” A lunch basket waited for them. “But I thought you might enjoy a buttered biscuit with blueberry jam before you leave.”
The dark purple jar tempted Zack like a saloon to a cowhand at the end of the trail. “Don’t tell me they have blueberry bushes in Kansas.”
Debbie giggled. “I haven’t found any. They have something called elderberries. We brought two jars of blueberry jam with us, but we’ll run out soon enough.”
Maine was famous for blueberries, strawberries, and other fruits. Zack took a bite of the biscuit and closed his eyes. That single taste carried him back to a time before the war, when he’d spent a day picking raspberries. The sweet aromas of fruit and sugar simmering down to jam had teased him all day long. A small piece of home encouraged him to start the new day. “It’s perfect. Don’t waste any more on me today. That’s enough to keep me going until sunset.”
Debbie smiled. “I’m going to pick some of those elderberries when they’re ripe. A new home, new flavors. I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”
Charles had remained quiet, quickly devouring the food. “Finish up so we can get started.”
Debbie’s lips straightened in a thin line. “Zack’s going to finish eating a proper breakfast and then I’ll take care of his hands. The sun’s barely over the horizon. You continue what you’re doing. Zack will be ready in a bee’s minute.”
Zack might have protested—he did have his pride, after all. But he loved Debbie’s spunk. After her outburst, he chewed his biscuit slowly before plowing through a second helping of eggs. He reached for his hat.
“Not so fast.” Debbie guided him to the fireplace. She went to work quickly, drawing in her breath when she peeled off his gloves.
“Are you going to get high-handed with me, the way you did with your father?” Zack managed to keep his tone light.
Her head popped up so fast that her fingers pressed down hard on one of his blisters. “Only if you’re as stubborn as he is.” When she returned to the task at hand, her touch softened. Hand in hand, she looked him straight in the eye. “Do you want a quiet wife who always says ‘yes sir, no sir’?”
“Maybe you should’ve asked that question at the audition.” His eyebrow lifted and he grinned.
A small smile lifted her lips. “That’s all I can do.” She handed him the gloves, words hovering on her lips. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.” Her eyes flickered toward the door. “Or him.”
He pulled on his gloves. “Maybe I have to prove it to myself. Can I homestead, make a home for my wife? Don’t worry, I’m tough.” He reached the door in two strides. He closed his eyes to recall the blueberry jam then looked to burn Debbie’s image into his memory to get him through the day.
Charles didn’t speak as they walked to the field, content to keep up with Zack’s pace, but his shoulders sagged. Maybe Debbie should’ve used some liniment on her father.
“We should’ve celebrated last night, since we finished breaking the sod,” Zack said. “It takes a strong man to accomplish everything you have this year.”
“You sped up the process. Thank you for your help. But let’s wait to celebrate until we can start planting the seeds.”
If Charles kept postponing celebration, would Zack still be there? He hoped so. The more time he spent with Debbie, the more he liked her. A woman like her could adapt to life anywhere. But he didn’t have any other life to offer her. If he couldn’t make it as a farmer, he didn’t know what he’d do instead.
Ladies willing to audition for grooms might not wait for a groom who dragged his feet. And Debbie shouldn’t have to wait. She was a woman, full grown, ready to create a home away from her parents.
They tore through the soil with rakes, dragging up rocks. They’d have enough to build a wall, maybe even a house. German settlers in Texas had built half-timbered houses, but had anyone in Kansas tried it? Might as well try. He placed the smoothest rocks in the wagon.
Charles watched the growing pile with interest. “What are you doing with the rocks?”
Zack shrugged. “A wall, maybe? A fireplace, part of a house?” He loosened the dirt around another rock he’d run into.
His partner looked at him, sharply. “A house? Have you already made up your mind?”
Zack wanted to bite his tongue. “Charles, Mr. Barker, sir, that question lies between your daughter and me.”
It was a good thing Charles couldn’t read Zack’s mind, couldn’t see the image in his brain, of two figures sitting in front of a cheery fireplace—himself and Debbie.
Chapter 5
Saturday, eight days after the audition, Debbie and Zack rode in the back of the wagon while her father drove them into town. She welcomed the chance for a private conversation.
“What are your plans for the day?” Zack asked.
Debbie tucked a few stray hairs into her braid. She hoped to see at least a few of the other brides, and maybe the mayor, who had helped put the audition together. How was everyone doing with their grooms? Did anyone else feel as strange about the experience as she did? “I’d like to see some of the other brides.” Her cheeks grew warm. “What about you?”
Zack scratched his head. “I don’t care about the other brides.”
Debbie laughed in response. “I should hope not.”
“I was hoping you’d show me around town. Maybe I could meet your friends?” His eyebrow lifted.
How lovely and sweet. She couldn’t say no. “I’ll ask Mama to make sure we have time to explore. There’s the church—we’ll be there tomorrow. And the school, although no one will be there today. Birdie Green is the teacher. As nice as can be. We’ll be at the mercantile, too.” Maybe she could chat with Chardy Stevens. She might know how things were working out with the other grooms.
“Maybe I could treat the family to a meal at the restaurant where they held the auditions,” Zack said. “To thank you for your hospitality this past week.”
Debbie’s stomach rumbled in response. “That would be lovely.” And Carolyn, the restaurant owner, would have heard gossip, too.
The town came into view. How quickly the trip had passed with someone to talk with.
Papa parked the wagon by the church. “Zack, I’ll leave you on your own until we’re ready to load our supplies. Does an hour give you enough time for your errands?”
Before Debbie had a chance to ask for more time, Zack spoke. “That sounds good. And I’m treating your family to a meal at the restaurant.”
“It’s not necessary.” Papa turned away.
Don’t worry. Zack mouthed the words to Debbie. “I insist. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done, and I can meet more of my neighbors.”
Debbie held back her grin. He had Papa in a corner.
“Thank you, Zack. That’s a kindly thought.” Mama put her arm through Pa’s, as if ready to keep it there until lunchtime. “We’ll meet you at the restaurant in an hour.”
Sixty minutes didn’t give them much time. For now, they’d stroll to the mercantile. Children played on a nearby lawn. A ball landed at her feet. Debbie picked it up, ready to lob it back, when a young boy came up to her. “Kin I have it?”
She looked at the ball, hefted its weight in her palm. “Go over there and get ready to catch it.”
“But, ma’am.”
Debbie drew her arm back, and the kid’s eyes opened wide. He ran to the others, managing to yell “Thanks” over his shoulder.
She waited a moment then threw the ball into the boy’s waiting hands. He whooped.
When Debbie turned around, Zack was grinning. He waved to the children across the street. “Maybe she can play on your team next time.”
They giggled and ran away.
“My secret is out,” Debbie whispered.
“I’m impressed,” Zack said. “Where did you learn to throw like that, with all those sisters?”
>
“That’s easy. My brother needed someone to play with, and I was the only one younger and smaller than he was. We played ball and went fishing and played hoops …” She stopped. “And I had two sisters ready to teach me how to be a girl, so I got the best of both worlds.”
They moved as if of one mind, strolling down the street. “You must miss him.”
“I did, terribly, especially when he first went away. Then I grew up. I miss the memory of him—but if he were alive today, our relationship would have changed.”
They nodded at passersby. “Did you pester your sister mercilessly? You do have a sister, right?”
He went still. “I had two sisters. Lanna died during childbirth during the war. I hadn’t seen her since she married. Dolores is happily married. I was able to see her before I came to Kansas.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged it off. “Things were so ugly by then, her death almost seemed like a blessing. Now I wish I had seen her again, to say good-bye, but someday, in heaven …”
They walked for a few minutes without speaking. “What did your other sister—Dolores?—think of your destination?”
Zack spread his hands apart. “The war came between us. She didn’t like my leaving, but she didn’t like all the other changes either. She closed her eyes to a lot of things. She’s not strong like you, Debbie. She could never come to Kansas and start over with a soddy for a home.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” No, that wasn’t true. Either of her sisters would have taken her in, and she could have grown into an old maid. She shivered.
He caught her reaction.
“At least not a choice I wanted. And here’s the mercantile.” She sped up. The conversation had become uncomfortable. “I love coming here. Every visit is like a trip to another world.”
He cocked his head, and she wondered if he doubted her. He’d seen so much more of the world than she had. Never matter. It was a fun place. “Let’s head inside.”
When the doorbell announced their arrival, a loud voice called, “Debbie Barker, come over here and let me meet your man.”
Seven Brides for Seven Mail-Order Husbands Romance Collection Page 26
