by Linda Ford
“Does she ever walk?” Isabelle asked with wonder.
Dawson laughed. “She usually runs. I’ll have to hurry to catch up.” He didn’t immediately leave as he searched for a way to let her know he hadn’t changed his mind about her. But to point out again that she would never belong while asking her for the favor of watching Mattie seemed extremely rude. So he thanked her and trotted after his daughter.
Chapter Five
Isabelle lay in bed enjoying a few minutes of laziness. It was Sunday. Time to get up and prepare for church. She looked forward to her first attendance here in Bella Creek. The church stood across the town square from the school and kitty-corner to the hotel. She’d studied it from several angles, liking the clean, simple lines of a clapboard church with a steeple and pebbled glass windows. Something about the building’s simplicity made her heart swell with anticipation.
Kate scrambled from bed and stretched. “I hope no one needs Father today. He should rest.”
Isabelle sat on the edge of her bed. “Let’s pray he gets the whole day.”
They did so, then dressed and prepared the meal together. Kate’s father joined them. He said little, obviously tired.
A little later the three of them walked down the street toward the church. Sadie joined them, linking her arm with Isabelle’s.
“Dawson has offered to take the four of us on a drive to see more of the country,” she told Sadie.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t go. I have already accepted an invitation to visit the home of two of my students—a sister and a brother.”
People came from every direction, the town people walking and those from farms and ranches arriving in wagons, buggies and on horseback. Most of them called out a greeting to the doctor and the ladies, making conversation between them impossible, but Isabelle wished she could convince Sadie to change her arrangements. She needed all the company and support she could muster if she were to spend the afternoon in Dawson’s presence.
Would he bring Mattie? Part of her said of course he would. The child would want to accompany her father. Another part—one with a more strident voice—said he would not, if only to keep the child from any more contact with Isabelle than necessary. She hadn’t missed the warning look on his face yesterday when he came for Mattie. No, he hadn’t changed his mind about her, and having to ask her for help only made it more difficult for him.
A wagon trundled past and pulled to a stop. Annie and Mattie hopped down and joined them, leaving their grandfather to ride on.
“Where’s Dawson?” Why did she blurt out the question? It didn’t matter to her if he’d forgotten the invitation to take them for a drive. In fact, she would be relieved. His very presence reminded her of how he viewed her and put her nerves on edge.
“Here he comes now,” Mattie said, waving to her father as he rode a horse down the street.
They wouldn’t be going anywhere with him on horseback. Her disappointment surprised her, and she would have denied it, but it was too real. It came only from a longing to see more of the town and country, she told herself.
She gladly let Annie usher them through the gate and up the steps into the church. Mattie skipped ahead of them until they entered the building and then she grew appropriately subdued as if she’d been taught to respect the house of God.
Isabelle would have slipped into one of the back pews so she could listen to the service without being observed, but Annie led them all forward to the pew fourth from the front and they slid in.
Mattie ended up between Annie and Isabelle, and she gave Isabelle a huge smile.
Isabelle rubbed the little one’s back.
Dawson escorted his grandfather inside and they sat beside Annie.
Three people sat between Isabelle and Dawson, and yet she felt crowded by him. Knowing he disapproved of her, solely on the basis of her being from the city, made her muscles tense.
Then the organist began to play and a dark, ruggedly handsome man stood behind the pulpit.
Annie leaned close to whisper, “Our new preacher, Hugh Arness. He’s only been here a month. He doesn’t like being called ‘reverend.’ Says that title belongs to God. We’re to call him ‘pastor’ or just plain ‘mister.’”
Pastor Arness announced the opening hymn and everyone reached for a hymnal. Annie and Isabelle shared one with Mattie between them, sitting so ladylike. The preacher had a deep, resonant voice and led them in song.
Isabelle joined her voice to those around her, smiling as Mattie did her best to sing the words. For the moment Isabelle felt like she belonged.
They sang two more hymns and then Pastor Arness opened his Bible and read a passage.
Annie shifted about as the man spoke, but Mattie sat very still, her hands folded neatly in her lap just as Isabelle folded hers. Isabelle smoothed her skirt. Mattie did the same. Isabelle’s throat tightened and tears pressed at the backs of her eyes as she realized Mattie imitated her every move. Never before had anyone wanted to be like her. What an awesome privilege and responsibility.
On the other side of Grandfather Marshall, Dawson’s long legs almost touched the back of the pew in front of them.
Isabelle pressed hard against the wooden seat. Not that he could see her unless he turned sideways, but she didn’t want him to notice Mattie’s behavior. Somehow she knew he would object and she had no intention of letting him take this honor from her.
She concentrated on the sermon, blessed by the exhortation to do one’s best, the preacher’s text being, “I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it.”
She needed those words. She was here because of God’s leading and she would use every opportunity He put before her. Thank You for Your direction, Lord.
It took a long time to get out of the church as people crowded around them for introductions and to welcome them. Dawson and his grandfather exited several minutes before Isabelle and the others made it to the door.
She fully expected he would have ridden away and blinked in surprise to see him waiting at the gate by his horse, Mattie beside him. Grandfather sat in the wagon.
“Who’s coming with me?” Grandfather asked.
“I’m going with Carly,” Annie said. “Enjoy your outing.” She grinned at Dawson as if she knew something Isabelle didn’t. “Make the most of every opportunity.”
If Isabelle wasn’t mistaken, Dawson’s face darkened and he scowled at his sister. “You stay out of trouble.”
“Always do.” She waved and followed Carly and a tall, angular man who had been introduced as Carly’s father, Mr. Morrison.
“I’ll be by with a buggy in an hour for the rest of you,” Dawson said.
“Thank you,” Kate said.
Dawson didn’t move. It took a moment for Isabelle to realize he waited for her response.
“Thank you,” she managed.
“Later, then.” He swung into the saddle, lifted Mattie up behind him and rode away.
*
Dawson took Mattie and Grandfather to Uncle George and Aunt Mary’s home for dinner. Their children were all grown and moved on, so only they remained and were always glad to have any of the other Marshalls join them.
Twice, during the meal, he warned Mattie to slow down. “What’s your hurry?” As if he didn’t know. What was he going to do about his daughter’s fascination with Isabelle? He couldn’t see anything but hurt in store for her.
“We’re taking Miss Isabelle for a drive in the country,” Mattie informed their aunt and uncle.
“Don’t forget the doctor and Miss Kate and Miss Sadie.”
Mattie nodded. “They’re coming, too. Papa says we’ll take them to see the falls. Isn’t that right, Papa?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Aren’t you done yet, Papa?” Mattie’s plate was clean clear down to the pattern.
“I said we’d be an hour.” He sipped from his cup of coffee.
“But we need to get a buggy from the livery man.”
“Th
at’s true.” Still, he didn’t move as he fought an internal war. If only he could find some excuse to cancel the afternoon. But that would disappoint Mattie and he didn’t care to do that.
A pain in the left side of his jaw made him realize how tense he’d become.
Mattie pulled on his sleeve. She looked at him, correctly interpreting the way he pulled his lips in, and her voice quivered. “Papa, aren’t we going?”
Grandfather grunted. “What does the Good Book say about a child leading? Listen to the child and stop branding certain young ladies.” He headed for the big overstuffed armchair where Dawson knew he would soon fall asleep.
Mattie blinked hard. “You’re gonna brand someone? Why?”
Aunt Mary chuckled. “He’s not going to brand anyone. Your grandfather simply means…well, he means…” She tossed her hands in the air. “I suppose he means your father should give everyone a chance to prove their worth based on their actions.”
“Oh.” Mattie shrugged. “Guess I don’t know what that means.” She grabbed Dawson’s hand. “Come on.”
He could not disappoint his daughter and he pushed to his feet. “Let’s go get a buggy.”
She rewarded him with a wide smile and skipped along beside him as they headed down the street toward the livery barn.
In a few minutes they sat in a buggy and returned up the street to stop in front of the doctor’s house. He didn’t jump down, too confused to know whether to go to the door or drive away. Not normally an indecisive man, today his thoughts warred with each other. He didn’t know how long he would have sat trying to make up his mind if Mattie hadn’t jumped up.
“I’ll go get them.”
“No, that’s my job.”
She sat back with a pleased smile on her face. “That’s what I thought.”
He climbed down and made his determined way to the door. This was not a good idea. He knew he would regret it but he was trapped. He sighed and knocked. Might as well make the best of it. All he had to do was show them the town and take them to the falls. If he felt a little trickle of excitement it was only because he would be out in the open and this would be the first time to see the falls this spring. What if Isabelle thought them ordinary and wondered why he chose to take her there? No doubt she would. Why should he care either way? The others would surely enjoy the drive.
He rearranged his expression to reveal nothing just as Isabelle opened the door. Her gaze darted past him to the buggy and Mattie, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she looked relieved, even pleased to see his daughter.
He didn’t care for her reaction. How was he to keep them apart?
“Are the doctor and Miss Kate ready?” He saw no sign of them.
“They got called away and Sadie had a prior invitation.”
He stared. “Just you and me and Mattie?”
She took a step back. “Is that a problem?”
Yes. He’d counted on the presence of the others to ease his unwelcome awareness of Isabelle.
She backed up farther and began to unbutton her coat. “I understand if you’ve changed your mind.” Her cool voice revealed nothing. Giving him no indication as to whether she felt relief or regret.
“I haven’t changed my mind.” His confused feelings caused him to say things he regretted as soon as he spoke. “But if you don’t wish to go, I understand.”
Her fingers stilled on the second button. Her gaze went past him. Her fingers left the button and returned to the first and pushed it through the buttonhole. “I’d like to see more of the country.”
Just the three of them. He could hardly ask her to sit in the back. They would have to share the front bench. He could sit in the middle and keep that much distance between her and Mattie but Mattie wouldn’t like that, and the thought of rubbing elbows with Isabelle for the duration of the trip caused him to swallow hard.
She wore a questioning look. “Make up your mind.”
“I have. Shall we be on our way?”
He helped her into the buggy, climbed up with Mattie in the middle and then released the brake. With a flick of the reins to start the horse moving, they drove down the street. “I expect you’ve seen the main street, but what you can’t see and won’t until spring is how the trees in the center square provide shade. The ladies usually plant flowers. Grandfather insisted on the benches so people can relax or visit or have their lunch in a pleasant spot.” Why did he ramble on about a town square that was nothing more than a wide spot at the intersection of two streets? Hardly worthy of comment in comparison to the things Isabelle must have seen in St. Louis.
Isabelle looked from side to side. “I noticed the benches, of course, and thought them a very pleasant addition. I imagined people sitting and visiting, catching up on news from friends and neighbors, but I can hardly wait to see the trees leafed out and flowers blossoming. Maybe I can help with the flowers.”
He stared at her. He hadn’t expected she’d pay any heed to his description, dismissing it as unworthy of notice, yet she’d already considered the very things Grandfather hoped to encourage—neighborliness.
She noticed his study and her smile flattened. “Did I say something wrong? Are only certain people allowed to tend the flowers?”
He shook his head. “Any and all help is welcome.”
She nodded, a pleased look in her eyes. “Then I look forward to it.”
Did she really plan to be around long enough to plant flowers? Or would she tire of country life before then? His thoughts all muddled by her eagerness to be involved, he turned onto Silver Street. “Once past the school and church we begin to enter the residential area.” He pointed out the houses and told her who lived in each. She studied each house with interest.
“What do these people do?”
“Some work at the mines but prefer to live in a better place than Wolf Hollow. Some work in the various businesses in town.”
“Some of the people go to school,” Mattie added. “Eric and Lisa live there. They have two little sisters.” She shifted and pointed to the house across the street. “Mary Jane lives in that house. She’s like me. She doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. Except she has a mama and a papa, though her papa is gone lots at the mines.” She let out a long sigh. “Mary Jane is sad sometimes. I suppose it’s because she misses her papa.” Another long dramatic sigh. “Like I miss my mama even though I don’t recall what she looks like.” She turned to Isabelle. “Will I always miss my mama?”
Dawson forgot to breathe. He’d never heard Mattie mention missing Violet. He hadn’t thought she could remember her at all.
Isabelle wrapped her arm about Mattie’s shoulders. “I don’t think you’ll ever get over missing your mama. I know I won’t. But the missing doesn’t always hurt. It can comfort us or encourage us or help us remember to do the right thing, knowing that’s what our mamas would want.”
Dawson couldn’t have been more surprised at Isabelle’s words even though he wondered if Violet would have cared what Mattie did. She’d shown little interest in the child. Far better for Mattie if she didn’t know that.
They turned down the cross street, passed more houses. “There are a few empty houses beyond here.”
“Empty? What happened to the occupants?” Her calm voice seemed to say she only made conversation, but whether she tried to hide it or not, he detected a slight tremor as if she feared personal pain or loss had driven them away.
This hint of tenderness brought a queer mingling of surprise and pleasure in his thoughts.
“A few moved away after the fire. Others never found the gold they dreamed of and gave up to return to their former lives.”
“I would think going back would be equally disappointing.”
He stared at her, knowing his eyes likely said far more than he intended. How could her words carry both regret and hope?
She met his gaze, her eyes shuttered.
He was convinced she knew how to hide her feelings.
“Look.” Mattie pointed to his lef
t and thankfully drew his attention from Isabelle and his irrational thoughts. “Pussy willows.” A tree in an abandoned yard hung heavy with the furry catkins. “Stop. I want to get some.”
Dawson pulled the horse to a halt. “Hang on,” he warned, as Mattie tried to edge past him while the wagon still rolled. He jumped to the ground and lifted her down.
She grabbed his hand and leaned away in an attempt to drag him across the street.
Dawson didn’t move and turned to Isabelle, who sat patiently on the bench, smiling widely at Mattie’s eagerness.
“Do you want to come with us?”
Her smile faltered as her gaze came to him and then it beamed from her eyes. “I’d love to see the pussy-willow tree.”
How could her simple response fuel such a pleased reaction in his heart? It was only a tree—a pussy willow, a simple reminder of spring.
She reached for his hand and carefully, elegantly, stepped to the ground.
Elegant! The word reminded him of the need for caution. No reason to read anything more into her words and reactions than simple good manners.
Mattie grabbed Isabelle’s hand on one side and Dawson’s on the other and urged them forward. “You ever seen a pussy-willow tree?” she asked Isabelle.
“I have in passing.”
They stopped under the sweeping branches.
Isabelle reached up and touched the catkins. “Soft as fur,” she murmured.
“Soft as kitten fur.” Mattie looked at Dawson as if to remind him it was how she’d described Isabelle’s scarf.
He didn’t need a reminder and dug his knife out of his pocket to cut off some of the branches—a handful for Mattie and another for Isabelle.
She bent over the willows, her eyes peeking at him from under the fringes of her dark eyelashes. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. I expect you get lots of bouquets of hothouse flowers. These are just cuttings from a tree in someone’s yard.” He meant to remind himself that she was a city girl, a rich one if he took into account her wool coat with attached hood. But at the way her eyes widened and then shuttered, at the way her smile fled and the slight tensing of her hands, he wished he could pull back every one of those words. He had no call, nor wish, to hurt her feelings. “Of course, many times, things of nature are superior to what man can produce.” It hardly made sense but he could think of nothing else.
