A Groom's Promise

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  She nodded. “He’s – He’s …”

  “He’s what?”

  “A man who could take-” A baby’s cry interrupted the rest of her sentence.

  “She’s tired. I’m going to have to rock her to sleep. But I’ll not forget to finish this conversation with you,” Opal said in a stern, low voice.

  “I’ll leave you two alone then.” Winifred released a long breath. Nothing was more delightful than watching a mother hold her child. Would her child look like Hugh with his dark hair and strong chin or me with my red hair and fair skin? She shook her head, wondering where those thoughts came from then she tiptoed to the door and closed it to inch her way to the staircase.

  ***

  Sunday evening, Hugh pulled off his boots. They thumped to the floor. Jack sat down in his bunk beside him. He lit the lantern, which sat on a table between them, before leaning toward Hugh.

  “When are you going to confront Archie?” Jack asked in an impatient tone.

  Hugh sure did not want to face his boss, but he was left with no choice. Taking off his outer clothes, he gazed at his brother. “I’ll do it in the morning right after breakfast.”

  “Are you really going to do it? I thought you’d done that today?”

  “I couldn’t with church and all.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to ruffle any feathers on God’s day.”

  “All right. But you’re really going to do it tomorrow, right?”

  “Yes, I promise.” He wondered how to approach Archie. Should he mention he had fallen for Winifred? How his daughter cared for Jack? Jack’s love for Maybell? Lifting up a prayer for guidance, he hoped answers would come with the new day. Pulling back his covers, he slipped under them and rested his head against his pillow. He wanted to ponder the problem a little more, but the weariness of the last few days did him in. His eyes drooped, and within minutes, sleep overtook him.

  ***

  The rooster crowed. Hugh’s eyes sprung open. It took him a minute to digest his surroundings since his dream about Winifred lingered. But as he scanned the bunkhouse’s interior, the cobwebs left, and his memory returned to him. He jumped to his feet.

  Jack stared at his brother a second then yawned. “You’re up?”

  “Yes, I’ve got to cut those flowers.”

  “I don’t want you giving Maybell any more flowers,” Jack said in a stern voice. His face contorted into a frown.

  “I have to, Jack. I’ve got to stay in Archie’s good graces if I’m going to get him to see things our way.”

  “Alright.” Jack scooted out of bed and stood up.

  Hugh put on his checkered black-and-white flannel shirt before pulling on his dungarees.

  “I’ll be right back.” He picked the blooms, set the bouquet on the table then rushed out the door.

  He squeaked the bunkhouse door open to rays of sunlight coming in from an upper window. The light shone around Jack. Hugh approached his brother.

  Jack looked Hugh squarely in the eye and said in an expectant tone, “You ready?”

  “Yes.” They stepped toward the house. Hugh wondered what the day had in store for him. Could he convince Archie he was not the right man for Maybell? He hoped so. A cow mooed in the distance. He sniffed the repugnant smell of fresh cow pies as they passed. Besides the usual chores, picking the rest of the produce and stacking the hay for winter would make this a busy week.

  Jack cleared his throat. “Do you know what you’re going to say?”

  “No. I tried to come up with ideas but I’m lost.” They picked up the pace as they came closer to the house.

  “Sometimes it’s best to just blurt it out.”

  “You’re probably right.” I just hope I can do that. A gander honked and strutted in front of him. He maneuvered around it. Jack reached the house first and opened the door. Hugh followed.

  Maybell stood at the stove, flipping flapjacks. She turned to Jack. Her eyes danced with delight. “Thought some pancakes would do the trick this morning. After all, you’re going to need those stomachs full with harvest upon us.” She smiled.

  “Looking forward to them.” Jack returned her smile.

  Jack and Hugh hurried into the dining room. Archie sat at the head of the table. Hugh settled into a seat at his left with Jack pulling out a chair beside him.

  “No, Jack. Sit there.” He pointed to the right side of the table. “Hugh and Maybell must sit beside each other.”

  Maybell entered the room, carrying a tray of pancakes, bacon, and biscuits. Slamming the food on the table, she put her hands on her hips in defiance. “I’m not sitting with Hugh, Pa. I want to sit with Jack.”

  “Young lady, are you disrespecting me?”

  She glared at her father before setting the items on the table. Grabbing the coffeepot, she strode to each cup, poured the hot liquid into them, then faced her father. “No, I’m not. I’ve already told you how I feel about this. I can’t enjoy a meal when you won’t listen to me. If anyone is disrespecting anyone, you’re disrespecting me. You’re trying to force me to do something I don’t want to do, and that’s not fair.”

  Archie shook his head in protest.

  She let out an irritated huff before she marched from the room.

  “We’ve been over this, Archie,” Jack exclaimed. “It isn’t right what you’re doing. I can’t stay and eat with you treating Maybell like this.” Jack’s attention shifted to his brother. “Hugh, this is the perfect time for you to talk with him.” Jack jumped to his feet and left.

  Archie stroked his chin. He glanced at Hugh but kept silent for several seconds. “I apologize for my daughter.”

  “There’s no need to apologize.” What’s wrong with him? Why doesn’t he put her happiness ahead of this concocted idea that I’m the man for Maybell?

  “She’s not showing you respect.” Archie took a sip of his coffee.

  Hugh didn’t want to make him mad, but he had to defend Maybell and his brother. Archie could not understand. People can’t be forced into love. It just comes, like with Winifred. Hugh cleared his throat. “I don’t think she’s trying to be disrespectful. Archie, Jack’s smart, and he desperately loves Maybell. Have you noticed he isn’t stuttering like he used to?” He studied his boss’ countenance before he put his cup to his lips to swallow some of the dark brew.

  “No, I haven’t.” Archie turned to the platter beside him and heaped a pile of hotcakes, bacon, and a couple of biscuits on his plate.

  Hugh’s stomach growled. He did the same. Plate full, he dug his fork into the cakes and took several bites. “Archie, they’re in love. Let’s forget about this agreement and give them the happiness they deserve.” He wiped his hands on his napkin and grasped the cloth tightly a moment. “Besides, Archie, I’m in love – ”

  “Yes. I know. You’re in love with my daughter, and that’s why this deal of ours will work.”

  “But, I don’t …” He could not finish the sentence. How could he tell Archie his daughter did not appeal to him? He bit into his bacon and chewed it. “Please give them a chance. My brother is a hard worker and will make Maybell happier than I could.”

  Archie’s eyes flashed in anger. “Nope. It’s been settled, and Jack’s disrespect proves that our agreement stands.”

  Hugh knew he was not getting anywhere with Archie right now. His mind was made up, and Jack’s abrupt leaving sure put a kink in it. For the sake of Winifred and his brother, he would try again, especially with Friday’s square dance approaching.

  Chapter Fourteen

  On the night of the square dance, butterflies whirled in Winifred’s stomach. As she kneeled before the trunk to examine her clothes, she picked through a pile of evening dresses. She grasped the peach and taffeta gown and pushed it aside. Reaching beneath that one, she spied the cream gauze and silk gown hemmed with blue-satin bows. I’ve always loved this one. She shook her head. But it’s not right for a square dance with its tight, fantail skirt. I want something that will sway as I move. She searche
d some more until she came to a lime-green dress. Did she dare wear this with its low-scoop neckline? She lifted the gown from the metal trunk. Standing up, she held the dress in front of her. While she caressed the cotton gown with its wide waistband, her fingers trembled. She slipped the dress over her petticoats. Rocking back and forth, the fabric swished around her feet. She smiled. Closing the door, she stepped to her sister’s room and knocked.

  “Come on in.” Opal glanced at her sister. “Why you look absolutely stunning. I’m sure a certain someone is going to approve.”

  Winifred’s cheeks grew warm. “I – I …” Taking a deep breath, she continued. “Do you think the neckline is too low? I mean would people think it’s proper?”

  “Oh, you’re fine but it does need –”

  “What?” Winifred bit her bottom lip a minute.

  Opal grasped her sister’s hand. “I’m not scolding you like I did when you were a child. I just wanted to suggest a gold locket to make everything complete.” Opal marched to her dresser and opened a drawer, reached for the jewelry and brought it to her sister.

  Winifred stared at the locket’s green background dotted with gold flowers. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh Opal, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yes, I know. It was our ma’s.”

  Her mouth opened wide a second. “Our ma’s? But – But I can’t wear it. What if I lose it? I can’t. I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. She would have wanted you to wear it on this special day.” Opal unlocked the clasp and draped it around Winifred’s neck before fastening it. She took a backward step. “It’s perfect.” Opal clasped her hands together. “Just perfect. Go over there.” Opal gestured to the full mirror beside her bed.

  Winifred examined her image. “It’s like wearing a garden. I bet Ma looked lovely in it.”

  Opal winked at her. “Just like you do tonight.”

  Winifred swirled around, her long skirt tickling her ankles. She strode to her sister and lowered her gaze. “I’ve got to admit I’m scared.”

  “Scared?”

  She nodded. “I’ve never been to a country dance.”

  “Oh, that?” Opal laughed. “Don’t be afraid. It’s just like those back home, except half the farmers don’t dance, unlike the Charles City men.” She placed her hand on her sister’s spine. “Remember I’m behind you.”

  Winifred laughed. “I know you are. Your hand rests on my back.” The lighthearted moment passed as the flip-flops in her stomach returned. Filled with anxiety about the dance and seeing her beau again, she fidgeted with her gown’s scalloped sleeves.

  ***

  Hugh heaved a long breath as he dumped the last of the wheat into the thresher. The machine grinded and the grain fell to the ground. Jack, Archie, and three other neighbors hurried over to shovel the grain into sacks. Sweat rolled down Hugh’s back and neck. He pulled out his kerchief and wiped his neck before replacing the cloth into one of his overall pockets. He dashed to the men and picked up his shovel. His heartbeat raced at the thought of Winifred’s beautiful face and that aristocratic chin of hers. He smiled. “Let’s get this done so we’re not late for that square dance.”

  “You’ve got that right. I can’t wait for me to dance with one of those pretty young ladies,” said a wiry-haired man who was missing two front teeth.

  “Yup. It’s going to be a grand night tonight. They always are,” added a wrinkled-faced neighbor. He pulled off his cap and rubbed his hand through his gray hair then replaced his hat.

  Each man continued to put his grain into his own bag. The sun began to set. Hugh’s jaw clenched. He did not know how they would get this done before the dance with a few piles of grain still lying on the ground. He glimpsed toward his boss, hoping he, too, saw the problem.

  Archie gazed up at him. “It’s going to get dark shortly and none of you should miss this dance.” He winked at Hugh then continued. “Since there’s little grain left, you go ahead and clean up. I’ll finish and come later. I don’t think there’s anyone eager to dance with me anyway.”

  “You sure?” asked Hugh.

  “Yes, and I sure don’t want Maybell to miss it. You and Jack take her, and I’ll catch up.” Archie reached for another sack.

  “Thanks,” said a man with a squeaky voice. Shovels fell to the soil. Heavy footsteps pounded the earth. Hugh and Jack rushed to the bunkhouse. Once there, Hugh took a minute to catch his breath. “Get out the tub, and I’ll pump water into this teakettle and bucket. We have time to heat the kettle but not the pail of water so we’ll be taking pretty cold baths.” He paused. “You take yours first.”

  “Alright. You got some scented cologne water?”

  Hugh chuckled. “You’re going all out for Maybell, aren’t you?”

  “You bet. I’m going to marry that girl.”

  Hugh’s voice became low. “It’s a shame I never had a chance to talk with Archie. The loss of a day with that rain put the harvesting behind, and Archie avoided me whenever I approached.”

  “Leaving the table in a huff did not help, but I needed to be there for her.” Jack hesitated a second, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t you worry. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  Hugh nodded. He hoped so since their futures depended upon it. Grasping the bucket and kettle, he then ran outside to fill the containers.

  ***

  Winifred and her sister’s family stood to the side of the barn. The jingling of spurs, the thump of boot heels, loud chatter, and laughter flowed around the barn. Winifred’s heartbeat pounded so forcefully inside her eardrums that it almost deafened her. She studied the room’s structure from its wooden boards, to a makeshift worktable covered with a linen cloth for the serving of punch, to the flickering lanterns hung from rafters around the barn. Lowering her head, her gaze took in the dirt floor topped with wheat. She swallowed the lump in her throat before turning to Opal. “It’s awfully warm in here with everyone this close together.”

  Opal nodded. “And it’s only going to get worse when the fiddler starts playing. You nervous?”

  “Yes. I hope I can dance the dos-a-dos with this dirt floor.”

  She giggled. “You’ll do fine. I’m glad Bonnie is watching Vivian Louise tonight.”

  Winifred nodded.

  Abigail piped in, “I don’t want to dance with Theodore, Ma.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because he looks funny in his fancy clothes.”

  Winifred laughed and glimpsed over at her niece. Abigail could say the cutest things at times. Winifred swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing she would love to have a child like Abigail.

  Opal chastised her daughter, “You’ll dance with your brother. He looks dapper.”

  “Dapper?”

  “It means he looks nice, Abigail.”

  The older women and men sat on chairs and benches so they could watch the festivities. A Master of Ceremonies stepped to the center of the room. He cleared his throat and spoke into the funnel-shaped cone. “Well, it’s seven o’clock, so let’s get this show on the road. Tonight we’re privileged to have Abe Brown from the town of Table Rock to play. I’m sure you’ll remember him from last year.”

  “Hey Abe! You got you a gal yet?” yelled a partially balding man in a frock coat.

  “Now, Chuck, let’s not start anything here. Are you ready for the fiddling?” Whoops and howls of approval permeated the barn. “Alright, folks, here we go.” He pointed to the fiddler.

  “Come on, Winifred!” Opal whispered to her sister.

  “But – ” She glanced at the entrance. Where is he? Her hands shook.

  Opal pulled her to the floor. Abigail followed. Teddy inched toward a little blonde-headed girl with red bows in her hair.

  Can I do this? Winifred clasped her hands together. The paired dancers of one gentleman and one lady formed a large circle. Winifred was partnered with an elderly baldheaded man when a young scrawny man squeezed in between them. Her former partner proce
eded forward to grab a new lady’s hand. She stood there as she attempted to grasp the awful creature before her. The bushy-haired man, clothed in a white shirt, cocoa-brown tie and tan suspenders, opened his mouth.

  “My name is Virgil Hoppenstopper,” he snorted.

  His foul breath penetrated her nostrils, and to make matters worse, his pear-shaped face reminded her of her beau back home. Will I have to be with him all night?

  Abe placed his bow against the strings, and the fiddler began to play the notes of “Turkey in the Straw.”

  Her partner’s wet palm grasped hers. He jerked her around the floor. They continued to dance and did the promenade. The fiddler played another tune. She scanned the room for Opal. She did not see her or her family. Her gaze darted toward the entrance. With no Hugh in sight, she wondered whether his affections for her were sincere.

  They clomped, hopped and lifted their feet in the air to the fast-paced melodies. Hopeless and tired, she searched the barn once more. Her partner raised his arm to twirl her. She gasped. Sweat stained his white shirt. Now she would not only have to tolerate his repugnant breath but his underarm sweat. Someone please save me. Her mind whirled.

  The floor stilled as the fiddler stopped to repair a string. This was her opportunity. Excuse yourself. You need to find your sister. She has your handkerchief. Something.

  Her partner grinned. He cleared his throat.

  She knew what was coming. He was going to want her to join him for a cup of punch. She couldn’t. She began to squeak out her excuse when something crashed to the floor. She closed her mouth and looked in the direction of the noise. A man bent over to pick up the chair. He scanned the room. Their eyes met. She released a deep breath. Hugh ran toward her, reached her side, and faced her male partner.

  “Excuse me. But she’s my lady, and she promised to dance only with me tonight.”