Bluebonnet Belle

by Lori Copeland

He smiled down at her and her pulse accelerated. A “special” supper. Had the time finally come? Was he about to ask her to be his wife? Her mind whirled at the implication. Was that what she really wanted? She suddenly felt a trifle ill.

  Henry halted the carriage at the side of the mortuary, where a large mulberry tree grew. April insisted on it, for Grandpa wouldn’t be as likely to see them together here. His eyesight was failing dreadfully.

  “I wish—”

  “Don’t say it,” she interrupted. “I have to persuade Grandpa that I’m grown-up enough to make my own decisions.” And of course, tell him that she was seeing Henry. Seriously. “He still thinks of me as a little girl.”

  Henry’s eyes swept her slender figure. “You’re a lovely young woman now.”

  Her cheeks colored. Henry was so bold. So much more exciting than any of the other single men in Dignity.

  “He also still thinks of you as that hooligan who tied my sash to the school desk so my skirt would fall down around my ankles when I stood.”

  Henry’s grin was irresistibly devilish. “It was one of my better pranks.”

  “I was mortified!”

  The grin widened. “I know. But your cheeks turned pink and your eyes got so wide with surprise, I was captivated by you from that moment on.” Leaning forward, he stole a kiss.

  Henry was a godly man; his youthful pranks seemed uncharacteristic now. Not a foul word escaped his mouth these days except on rare occasions—which she promptly chastised him for. And Henry was always quick to beg her pardon.

  She glanced nervously toward the house. “I need to go.” She adored his affectionate gestures, but in private. Not here in public, where someone might catch a glimpse.

  Henry settled back with a wry smile. “I’ll see you when I get back from Austin.”

  For now she contented herself with the tightening of his hand on hers.

  Dignity’s apothecary was midblock between Main and Fallow Streets. The establishment had been there for over twenty years. The sign over the door was faded, the building comfortably weathered.

  Inside were shelves of medicinal concoctions, bandages, alcohol for cuts and scrapes, liniment for strained muscles. One corner of the room held potions for farm animals. A long wooden counter stretched along the back, with the pharmacist’s desk behind it, a step or two higher. This was Eldon Ludwig’s throne from early morning to nearly twilight. From it he dispensed medicine and advice for everything from boils to congestion to broken limbs.

  At the moment, Eldon’s seat was vacant, and a squarely built figure dressed in a butternut-brown dress stood behind the long counter, explaining the directions on a bottle of headache powders to Judge Petimount’s widow.

  April browsed through the store, reading labels on funny-looking bottles while she waited for Beulah to finish with her customer.

  Beulah was “Porky” to the town residents—an affectionate nickname she’d been given over the years. April didn’t approve of it, finding it hateful and hurtful. Beulah never complained. She’d smile when someone tossed the name in greeting, but in her large, serious brown eyes April detected pain. She herself would never, ever call her friend the name. Beulah was Beulah. Special—and with a heart the size of Texas.

  Mrs. Petimount made her purchase and left.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, Beulah grinned at April. “I thought you were busy selling Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound to the enlightened ladies of Dignity and surrounding areas.”

  “I’ll have none of your sass, Beulah Ludwig,” April bantered, resting her hands lightly on her hips. “Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound will cure what ails ya.”

  Giggling, she came around the corner and grabbed April’s wrists to pull her into a brief hug. “Now tell me, how is the sales job going?”

  April settled herself on a worn bench near the counter, and Beulah sat beside her. Beulah had been her friend forever. The daughter of Eldon Ludwig, she spoke with the thick German accent of her parents, who had emigrated to the States before she was born. When the other children had teased her, April had defended her, then taught her to speak with a Texas accent. Instead of “you all” she quickly learned to say “y’all,” which admittedly sounded a little strange with a German inflection.

  There was little else April could do to protect her friend from the other children’s cruel barbs. Beulah Ludwig, unfortunately, was the victim of her mother’s good cooking.

  In response to April’s friendship, Beulah had appointed herself April’s protector. In grade school, Bud Grady had taken a shine to April, but she hadn’t shared his feelings. Every recess he waited for her by the swings, trying to grab her for a kiss. Once he’d managed to smear his lips across her cheek, and her stomach had rolled.

  The day before summer vacation, Bud had apparently sensed that his opportunity to make any headway with April was almost past. He’d waited for her by the water pump and, when she came out, had grabbed her, nearly knocking her to the ground. She’d managed one shrill screech before Bud planted his lips on hers.

  Beulah had been waiting for April beneath the big oak in front of the schoolhouse. When she saw Bud pounce, she started running. Before he could get in a second kiss, she’d grabbed him by the collar, whirled him around and tossed him facedown into the dirt.

  Turning to April, she’d dusted her hands triumphantly. “There. We’re even.”

  The two girls had been inseparable ever since.

  Beulah had begun helping her father in the apothecary when she was barely old enough to see over the counter. She’d cleaned the shop at first, then gradually worked her way into sales when she was old enough to make correct change. April, meanwhile, became mistress of her grandfather’s house. She helped at the funeral parlor when needed, making sure the services moved along smoothly, that overwrought family members were comforted, even filling in when a vocalist failed to arrive in time.

  April’s slim, delicate frame and light features were a stark contrast to Beulah’s dark features and five-foot, two-hundred-pound frame. Beulah had inherited her father’s stockiness, and April knew it had long ago ceased to concern her. She was happy with her lot, eating cinnamon rolls without apology, while April was still trying to find her purpose in life.

  “So, how’s the job?” her friend repeated.

  “I wasn’t sure at first how I was going to like it, but I do. I feel I’m doing something important, and I like that.”

  “Your grandpa find out what you’re up to yet?”

  April shrugged. “No. You know he wouldn’t understand.”

  “Your mother was his daughter. He knows she didn’t have to die.”

  “I’ll grant you that if men had the same problems as women, there’d be no unnecessary surgeries without some very serious deliberation.”

  “Oh, hogwash! You’re getting radical.”

  Beulah got up and dusted a shelf of medical supplies as they talked. “I do think you ought to tell your grandpa you’re selling Mrs. Pinkham’s compound. If he finds out what you’re doing—”

  Not wanting to hear any more about the subject, April abruptly switched topics. “I’m not going to the Founders Hall event.”

  Glancing up, Beulah frowned. “You’re not?”

  “No, Henry has to go to Austin on business.”

  “Oh.” Her friend’s face fell. “And you bought that lovely blue dress.”

  “I know, but I can use it another time. Henry’s work comes first.”

  Resuming her dusting, Beulah muttered, “Rather thoughtless of him to plan a business trip at this time.”

  “It couldn’t be helped, Beulah.”

  “Mmm, maybe.”

  “Are you going to the dance?” April asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Wonderful. With anyone I know?”

  “Papa. Mother is still away tending to Aunt Mary.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t sound so disappointed. You know no man is going to ask me to a danc
e.”

  “Beulah Ludwig, you stop that!” Crossing the room, April gently took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Don’t ever say that again in my presence. If the men in this town are so blind they can’t see anything but a woman’s dress size, then I say shame on them! Their loss!”

  “Dash it all, I don’t care,” Beulah said as the two hugged each other. “My life is full. I don’t need any man to boss me around. Not one like Henry, that’s for sure.”

  “I know you don’t like Henry, but you don’t know him like I do,” April whispered.

  “I’ve known him as long as you have.”

  “He’s so…charming, attentive,” April argued. “Do you know what he calls me?”

  “Slave?”

  “No, be serious.”

  Eyeing her warily, Beulah said, “What?”

  “Bluebonnet belle. Isn’t that just the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard!”

  “Simply ducky.”

  Just then the bell over the door rang, and aged, nearly deaf Mrs. Faith hobbled in.

  “Good day to you, Mrs. Faith.” Beulah greeted the elderly lady loudly. “What can I do for you?”

  “Eh?”

  “What can I do for you?”

  Mrs. Faith leaned on her cane and waved a piece of paper. “Got this prescription, Porky. That young doctor gave it to me and told me to bring it over here and give it to you.”

  “Let me see what you have,” Beulah said, reading the prescription. “Yes, we can fill this for you.”

  “Eh?”

  “We have this!” Beulah shouted toward her less-deaf ear.

  “You sure? I wouldn’t want to get the wrong thing. Doctor says it would help my gout.”

  “I’m sure it will. It’ll only take a minute.”

  “Well, hurry up. It’s been paining me something awful lately.”

  April motioned to Beulah, who excused herself from her customer, saying she’d be right back.

  “Give her some of Mrs. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound.”

  “What?” Beulah demanded in a hushed whisper.

  “Give Mrs. Faith some of the compound.”

  “Are you out of your mind? She’s got the gout, not the monthlies!” Glancing at her customer, Beulah smiled. “Just take a minute, Mrs. Faith!”

  “Eh?”

  “Some of the compound, Beulah. Pour some in a bottle and tell her to use it in addition to the prescribed medicine.”

  “Never. The compound is not going to help her gout, and Papa would have a fit. Do you know the consequences of dispensing medicine without the proper authority?”

  “It isn’t medicine. It’s just an herbal compound. But it will really perk her up. You’ll see.”

  It was the perfect answer. April had been trying to think of a way to boost sales and get the word out about the compound, and the solution was right under her nose!

  “The compound is for female problems,” Beulah argued in a quiet tone, glancing at Mrs. Faith again.

  “Oh, come on, do the woman a good deed and give her some of the compound.”

  When Mrs. Faith glowered toward them again, Beulah waved. “Be right with you, ma’am.”

  “You do have some, don’t you? You didn’t pour it out?” April had brought her friend a sizable jugful a few weeks ago, thinking she might use it.

  “I have it,” Beulah snapped. “I intended to throw it away, but Papa’s always around when I think of it.”

  “Then do it.” April took her arm, urging her toward the back room. Mrs. Faith looked up again, glowering.

  April and Beulah waved, grinning.

  “I can’t tamper with Papa’s prescriptions,” Beulah whispered.

  April made sure she kept smiling as she led her friend to the back room. “What tampering? There’s nothing in the compound to hurt her. I want to see if it really does what Lydia says it will.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Come on, come on, please. I need to know how good this tonic really is.”

  It would make her decision to help Lydia Pinkham in her endeavor to improve women’s health so much easier if she knew for certain the compound worked. Not to mention make her feel less guilty about keeping her activities from Grandpa.

  “Then take it yourself.”

  “I don’t have any problems—except the wicked monthlies.”

  “Mrs. Faith doesn’t even have the wicked monthlies. She’s got the gout!”

  “And female problems, I bet. She has to. She’s old as dirt. At least offer her some, and see if she agrees to take it.”

  Dragging a chair to the shelf, Beulah climbed up on it, balancing her bulk as she reached for a gallon jug well hidden behind a row of bottles. “If Papa ever gets wind of this he’ll take a belt to me.”

  “Just tell him the truth. In addition to filling Mrs. Faith’s prescription, you suggested a mild tonic that one of your customers makes and uses herself.” April helped lower the gallon jug. “That isn’t a lie.”

  “Well…we do sell and ship a lot of nettle tea to Mrs. Pinkham.”

  Reaching for a funnel, Beulah poured some of the compound into a small brown medicine bottle. “See what you’re making me do?”

  “You’ll be glad you did it when you see how perky Mrs. Faith becomes.”

  When the bottle was full, Beulah stuck a cork in it and hurriedly shoved the jug of compound back on the shelf.

  The two young women emerged from the back room, smiling. “I’ll fill your prescription now, Mrs. Faith.”

  April browsed the small pharmacy, keeping an eye on her friend as she attended her duties.

  “Here you are, Mrs. Faith,” Beulah said a few moments later, as she came down the steps carrying the medicine.

  “Humph. High time,” Mrs. Faith grumbled. She dug in her purse for a coin. “How much, Porky?”

  “Twenty-five cents.”

  “Twenty-five cents! Where’s your gun? Does that young whippersnapper doctor think I’m made out of money?”

  “Papa’s working hard to get the prices down.”

  “Does he believe money grows on trees?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Handing her the coins, Mrs. Faith turned to leave.

  Shooting a warning look, April motioned to the bottle of compound Beulah was still holding. Her friend’s face screwed into a stubborn mask.

  April held her gaze, daring her to back down.

  “Oh, Mrs. Faith?”

  The old woman paused in the doorway. “What is it?”

  Clearing her throat, Beulah grinned. “Would you like to try some tonic?”

  She frowned. “Some what?”

  “Some tonic. It will give you get up and go.”

  The old woman glared indignantly. “Are you saying I don’t have get up and go?”

  “No, of course not. You’re in fine shape…for your age…”

  Mrs. Faith’s frown turned menacing.

  April quickly stepped in. “Oh, you mean that wonderful tonic everyone is talking about? Do you have some?”

  Beulah nodded halfheartedly. April could see she wasn’t in the spirit of the sale.

  “Well, I’d love to try some. Wouldn’t you, Mrs. Faith?”

  “Don’t need it.” She started out the door again.

  “Wait!” April hurried over to take the bottle out of Beulah’s grasp. Handing it to Mrs. Faith, she smiled. “Just take a couple of spoonfuls a day for the next week and see if you can tell any difference in how you feel.”

  “I feel fine.”

  “I know, but you’ll feel even better.” April confidently tucked the bottle into the small basket the woman habitually carried on her left arm.

  Mrs. Faith studied the bottle. “Don’t think I’m going to pay for it.”

  “Certainly not—you wouldn’t think of charging her for it, would you, Beulah?”

  Shaking her head, Beulah busied herself dusting the foot powders.

  “Well, guess it can’t hurt.” The old woman eyed the two
girls sternly. “Porky Ludwig, does your papa know you lollygag around, whispering and giggling, when he’s not here?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he does, and he’s warned me about it,” Beulah assured her. April held the front door open as the woman hobbled out.

  When the door closed, Beulah flew into her. “I hope you know what you’re doing, April Truitt!”

  April laughed. “She’ll be swinging from the rafters this time next week.”

  Returning to her dusting, Beulah fretted. “Dr. Fuller will tell Papa if he finds out I gave her Lydia Pinkham’s compound.

  “He won’t know it’s Lydia’s compound.”

  “Dr. Fuller caters to Mrs. Faith, you know. Tells her she’s beautiful. She laps it up—but then, most of the unmarried women in town and half the married women suddenly have a ‘problem’ now. Have you noticed?”

  “That he’s single?”

  “That he’s handsome, silly.”

  “I’ve noticed.” April brushed an imaginary speck of dust off the counter.

  “Now, there’s a man I’d like to kidnap.”

  “Well, he is nice-looking, but he isn’t my type.”

  “Meaning he doesn’t agree with your opinion of Mrs. Pinkham’s compound?”

  “You should have seen him at the rally the other day. I don’t know why he was there. Standing there in the midst of all those women, arms crossed, looking as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Spoke right up about how females should trust doctors. Nearly started a riot. He saw me, and if looks could kill, I’d be lying in Grandpa’s front parlor right now.”

  “Golly.” Beulah’s eyes widened. “Does he know who you are?”

  “No. He visits on the porch with Grandpa occasionally, but it’s dark and I keep well-hidden. He hasn’t seen me, I’m almost certain, or he would have told Grandpa about the compound. He’s a snitch.”

  “How do you know?”

  April shrugged. “He’s too good-looking to be honorable.”

  “Well, if the compound’s everything Mrs. Pinkham claims it is, the good doctor would be out of business in a week.”

  April snorted. “I don’t think he’s threatened either by the compound or by me.”

  Beulah paused, her dust cloth suspended in midair. “You didn’t make a scene.”

  “No…well, sort of. I fell over my table of elixir.”