Amon (Prairie Grooms, Book Seven)

by Kit Morgan

  The note! Amon stopped and searched his pockets. He found it and pulled it out. He needed to get it to Seth or his brother, and to do that he’d have to go into town –

  An image of a church flashed before him, he and Nettie standing before Preacher Jo, taking their vows. But for some reason, it didn’t seem right. Something was missing. But what? He let his mind wander in hopes the image would come again, and tried to memorize the scene before it disappeared …

  … oh, that was it. In his mind's eye there were no other people – only he and Nettie – and it wasn’t Preacher Jo officiating. He couldn’t see the preacher’s face, but his clothes were in tatters, his skin dark. “What?” he said aloud.

  He rubbed his eyes to erase the image, but it wouldn’t go away. “What did I eat?” he muttered. Maybe something at breakfast had affected his mind – either that or this love business was driving him around the bend. He shook his head again, then went up the porch steps and into the cabin.

  “Sit down, Amon,” Jasper instructed. “Just took the bread out of the oven a few minutes ago.”

  Amon sat and watched as Cutty slathered butter over a hot slice. He took a generous bite, smiled, closed his eyes and shivered with pleasure. The man did like his food.

  He watched as Nettie and her brother each took a slice and did the same, sans the shaking. He picked one for himself as Jasper sat. “Well?” the old man asked. “What do ya think?”

  Cutty smacked his lips. “It ain’t the same as that harpy Dunnigan’s. Different flavor. But I like it better. Heavy on the cinnamon.”

  “It’s quite good,” Newton said with a smile. “You’ll have to give Nettie the recipe.”

  Nettie froze, her hand halfway to her mouth to take a bite. “Me?”

  “You can handle cinnamon bread, I’m sure,” he said.

  Amon stared at her, wondering if he’d be able to look at anything else. “I thought she didn’t bake.”

  “I bake a little,” she told him haltingly. “I can hold my own.”

  “She can do more than hold her own,” Newton said and reached for his coffee cup. “Ow!”

  Nettie sent her brother a glare along with a tiny shake of her head. “Let me do it in my own time,” she whispered.

  What was she talking about? Amon wondered. She’d obviously just kicked her brother under the table, but why? And what did bread have to do with it?

  “Very well, but I suggest you do it soon,” Newton told her then took another slice.

  “Do what?” Amon asked.

  “Nothing,” she was quick to say. “At least, nothing to discuss this very moment. Let’s enjoy our bread and coffee while we can.”

  Cutty looked up as he licked his fingers. “While we can? Ya mean there ain’t no more?”

  “Sure there’s more,” Jasper informed him. “Stop your bellyachin’.”

  “That’s just it,” Cutty said. “Your bread keeps my belly from achin’. Heck, I’d like to learn how you make it.”

  “I’d teach ya just so ya’d stop bothering me!”

  Nettie giggled. “I never thought I’d see two men arguing over bread baking.”

  “Well, now you have,” Cutty said.

  “Maybe you should have Mrs. Dunnigan and Mrs. Upton teach you a recipe or two,” Amon suggested.

  “When I’m done with this chaperonin’ business I might just do that.”

  “And,” Nettie said, drumming her fingers on the table, “when will that be?” She gave Amon a pointed look.

  Amon was caught off-guard. “Well … when would you like it to be?”

  “I …” Nettie looked down at her lap. “I apologize. I did not mean to rush us.”

  “There’s no rush.”

  “Of course not,” she said nervously. “Why would there be?”

  Amon sat back in his chair and stared at her a moment. “Would you care to go for a walk?”

  “I thought that was what we were doing earlier,” she said, then looked at Cutty. “Before we were interrupted.”

  “Well, ya did get to try some of the best bread in the state, didn’t ya?” Cutty countered.

  Nettie smiled and nodded, then turned to Amon. “I’d love to go for a walk.”

  He got up, took a deep breath, then went around to her side of the table and offered her his hand. As soon as she touched it, a shiver ran through him, and he had a sense that something deep down inside of him was coming to life. He noticed it was stronger this time, and wondered if that would be the case each time he touched her. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling by any means – but it certainly was when the contact was broken. I am in so much trouble, he thought to himself as he escorted her toward the door. What if he was in love?

  Cutty wiped his mouth, stood and grabbed one last slice of bread. “I’m a-comin’, I’m a-comin’ – don’t leave without me.” Amon, already on the porch with Nettie, waited for him to catch up. “Okay, you two, let’s go!”

  Amon began to walk, not caring where they went so long as Nettie’s hand was in his. The odd sensation he was somehow merging with the beautiful creature next to him began to grow. Somewhere in his mind he thought it impossible, but it felt so natural. He had so many questions, and no experience with women to answer them - what was he going to do?

  * * *

  They strolled across the prairie, the trail barely noticeable. Amon led the way, Nettie alongside him, still holding his hand. His pace was quick and it would probably be easier if he’d let go, but she didn’t really want him to, so she did her best not to stumble. She wondered if he was trying not to look at her.

  Cutty shuffled along several yards behind them, happily munching his cinnamon bread. She made a mental note to at some point cook their chaperone an enormous dinner one day, just to see if he could eat it all. Or at least a few loaves of her own cinnamon bread recipe. Jasper and the cooking matrons of Clear Creek weren’t the only ones who could turn out a good batch of the stuff …

  But that led back to her greatest dilemma. She knew she was going to have to tell Amon about her past and what she’d been. But she felt better about it after seeing Cutty’s reaction and hoped Amon, like Cutty, would be surprised rather than appalled.

  “It’s not much further,” Amon informed her.

  “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a tree I’d like to show you. I’m considering it for a piece.”

  “A tree?” She practically panted as he picked up his pace even more. “If it’s a tree, then it’s not going anywhere, is it? Do you have to walk so fast?”

  He stopped, yanking her back. “It’s not just any tree. I can tell it’s special.”

  Her brows rose at that. She gazed past him at the landscape. “They all look alike to me. What makes this one so special?”

  He smiled. “You’ll see.” He continued on, at a slightly slower pace, but by the time he stopped again she was still gasping for breath. “There it is!” he said proudly, waving toward it like it was some priceless Greek sculpture.

  Nettie stared at it for a moment before she looked around again. “I don’t understand. It looks like all the rest.”

  “Oh, but it isn’t,” he said and finally, carefully let go of her hand.

  She studied him, caught the faraway gleam in his eyes and noted he was looking at the tree much the same way he’d been looking at her out behind the barn. She wondered which he was more attracted to – her or the prickly shrub in front of them. He fingered the branches, touching them almost lovingly. Why was he acting so strangely? “What kind of a tree is it?” she asked cautiously.

  “Juniper,” he sighed.

  She looked at the tree, then him. “It’s rather small, isn’t it? What can you possibly make out of it?”

  He turned to her, one hand still on a branch. “Nothing now, but in ten years it will be a beauty. Who knows what can be created from it then?”

  She glanced around again. “Amon, the trees all look the same to me. What makes this one different?”

&
nbsp; He caressed another branch just as Cutty joined them. “I can just … feel it. This one wants to be made into something.”

  Nettie’s brows rose again. She swallowed hard and took a step back toward Cutty. “I see.”

  “Whatcha lookin’ at?” Cutty asked.

  “Amon is admiring this tree,” she said, her voice weak.

  Cutty noted the way Amon touched the branches and quickly looked between the tree and Nettie. “Do tell?”

  Nettie took another step away. “Yes,” she said worriedly.

  Cutty caught her tone. “Shouldn’t he, uh, be admirin’ somethin’ else?” he asked.

  Nettie drew even with Cutty. “Amon is quite … attracted to this tree.”

  Cutty nodded numbly. “I can see that.”

  She turned to him. “I’d like to return to the cabin. Would you escort me?”

  “I can do that.”

  She watched Amon circle around to the other side of the tree. “I’m going back, but I will return momentarily.”

  “Go ahead,” Amon called from the other side.

  Nettie knew he couldn’t see her, and let out her breath in exasperation. Cutty glanced at her, then shrugged. She ignored him and started walking.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, she stopped. “About Amon, he’s …” She waved a hand around, trying to find the right word. “… he’s not quite right, I’m afraid.”

  “Amon?” Cutty said. “Not right?

  “Yes, he’s … he’s …” She frowned at Amon in the distance. “What was that about?!”

  “I dunno. He does like his trees, though.”

  “That’s just it! He’s looking at a bloody tree like he’d rather be getting married to it! Only a moment ago he was so … attentive … out behind the barn …”

  “Just what happened behind the barn before I got there?” Cutty asked, crossing his arms in suspicion.

  “Nothing!” she said as she threw her hands in the air. “Everything.”

  “Ya ain’t makin’ sense.”

  “I know!”

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “What’s the matter with him?!”

  Cutty took her hand and started walking. “Maybe ya need a drink or somethin’.”

  “Spirits are not going to help the situation! Don’t you see? Amon Cotter is … well, I think he’s addled in the brain!”

  “Ya kinda already said that.”

  “I know … but … I can’t marry a man who isn’t himself.”

  Cutty stopped and looked her in the eye. “But what if he is?”

  “What?!”

  “You heard me. What if that’s just him? Ya still gonna marry him?”

  “I … well, but he’s … strange.”

  “And yer a scullery maid.”

  “You didn’t have to bring that up,” she grumbled.

  “Did it ever occur to ya that maybe there’s a reason Amon’s a little different?”

  Nettie stared at him. She hadn’t thought of that. “He seems so normal most of the time…”

  “’Til it comes to his work. Then he gets a little overzealous is all. That’s my reasonin’, ya can take it or leave it.”

  “But … but …”

  “No buts, just look at him. Get to know him. Everyone’s passionate about somethin’. For Amon, it’s wood. Would ya rather it was gamblin’ or whiskey or chasin’ skirts?”

  Nettie stared at him, speechless. Blunt as he was, Cutty did have a point – if one was to have a vice, woodcarving was a rather safe one. And there was another thing. Her life had been filled with so much drudgery over the last ten years that she’d lost much of her own passion for living. She certainly couldn’t have been accused of loving her work. But Amon loved his. How could she condemn him for that?

  She glanced at Amon in the distance, then back to Cutty. “What’s your passion?”

  He took a step back. “This ain’t about me. It’s about you and that tree-lovin’ … er, that craftsman. I don’t know him as well as I’d like, but I can tell he’s fallin’ for ya. I can see it in his eyes.”

  “You can?”

  “Sure I can. Now stop worryin’ and give him a chance. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “We went through enough adventure getting here,” she argued.

  “Well then, where’s your sense of peace? See if’n ya can’t find it in Amon.”

  She looked at the ground, unable to speak. His words struck a chord in her heart. She did feel at peace with Amon, a deep peace that went beyond her understanding. She nodded slowly, turned and continued down the trail.

  Nineteen

  The next day Nettie awoke with a strange empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. After she and Cutty returned to the cabin yesterday, Harrison Cooke had shown up, wanting to speak with Amon. Sensing Harrison would be a while, Newton suggested that Amon call on Nettie the following day. He agreed, and would be coming into town that afternoon. Good timing, in that another meeting of the ladies’ sewing circle was planned for the morning.

  Bad timing, in that Nettie wasn’t feeling well at all. “Oohhh,” she moaned as she got up from bed, wrapping her arms around her middle. Maybe she should send word with Eloise that she couldn’t attend the sewing circle. But if she was too ill to go to town, how could she see Amon?

  What was wrong with her? She’d felt fine yesterday – a bit too fine, truth be told – until she noticed the ardent admiration Amon gave to a tree. Ever since then she’d been tense, despite Cutty’s pleas to give the man a chance. She hadn’t said a word to Newton for fear he’d think that she was either loose in the head, or take her at her word and call the match off. She did want to give Amon a chance, really. But what if he really was, as the locals referred to it, plumb loco?

  A knock sounded on her door. Nettie forced herself out of bed, put on her robe and went to answer it. “Yes?”

  “It’s me, Mrs. Upton. Are you all right in there?”

  Nettie cocked her head and opened the door. “Of course … well, maybe a bit tired …”

  “You missed breakfast.”

  “I … what?” Nettie asked in surprise. She pushed past the woman and looked up and down the hall. “Why didn’t my brother wake me?”

  Mrs. Upton shrugged. “He was going to, but Cutty said you probably needed the rest and your brother agreed.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Nearly nine. The sewing circle is meeting at ten this morning.”

  “Oh … yes. Is that why you’re here?”

  “Of course. You don’t want to miss it, do you?”

  Nettie rubbed one bleary eye. “I must admit, I thought of it.”

  Mrs. Upton entered the room, giving her a gentle nudge to precede her. “Aren’t you feeling well, honey? You do look a little pale.”

  “I’ve felt better. I’m not sure what’s wrong.”

  “Where does it hurt? Your head, belly, what?”

  Nettie smiled at her concern. “None of those places, really. I do feel rather … well, it’s silly, really.”

  “Tell me,” Mrs. Upton urged.

  “I’m not sure how to explain it. I feel … like a hole is … growing inside me.”

  Mrs. Upton’s brows rose at that. “Sounds like you’re hungry.”

  Nettie closed her eyes at her own foolishness. It was almost nine – of course she’d be hungry. She was used to eating early. “You’re right, of course,” she said with a sigh. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be right down.”

  “I saved ya a plate. It’ll be in the kitchen waiting for ya.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Upton. You’re very kind.” Mrs. Upton smiled, then left her to dress.

  Nettie sighed again as she went to the armoire in the corner and examined the few frocks she owned. None were well made, all rather dull in color. She wondered why no one had said anything about the state of her clothes, or Newton’s for that matter. But then, her relatives had made the same journey to get here, most of them anyway. The
ir wardrobes probably hadn’t fared well either.

  But her cousins had left with nicer clothes, and had the time to sew new dresses since their arrival. She’d have to do the same if she wanted anything decent to wear. At least they didn’t know that the state her clothes were in now wasn’t much different from when she’d left England. She’d been smart and worn only two dresses during the long journey, then discarded those in Oregon City. The others, she’d saved for when she got to Clear Creek. Newton had done the same.

  She put on her blue (more grey at this point) day dress, washed her face, put up her hair and went downstairs. In the kitchen Mrs. Upton handed her a plate with some bacon and a slice of fresh-baked bread, then poured her a cup of coffee. “Are ya going to see Amon today?”

  Nettie stopped chewing. A lightning bolt went up her spine at the mention of his name. “I hope to. He said he’d call on me this afternoon.”

  “You’ll have a full day then, between that handsome Mr. Cotter and the sewing circle.”

  Nettie set her bread down. “Yes, about that …”

  “Oh, I understand if you don’t know a thing. I can help you learn.”

  Nettie gave her a half-smile. “It’s not that – I can sew … a little. Well, maybe more.”

  “Wonderful! Then you should be able to help out with the new project!”

  “Which is?”

  “You wedding dress, of course! Now that you and Amon are courting, it’s sure to be the next thing we do!”

  Now she shuddered. Maybe she was coming down with something. “Mr. Cotter and I haven’t come to an understanding as yet.”

  “Oh, but you will! Trust me, honey, that man has an eye for you!”

  Without warning, Nettie felt overwhelmed by sadness, and she had to grab the table to steady herself. Tears stung the back of her eyes and her mouth fell open at the sensation that the “hole” she’d sensed earlier was growing.

  “Nettie, are you all right?” Mrs. Upton asked with concern.

  “Yes, it’s … it’s nothing.” But it was definitely something, and she had no idea what.

  Then she had a thought, a tiny prick of an idea. She’d pondered Amon’s passion the previous day, and how her passion for life had been drained away by life under the thumb of the Baron. But … what if having a husband, a home and a family was her passion, one she’d buried so deep that it was hidden even from herself? What if this whole marriage business had awoken in her the desire of her heart of hearts?