Where the Heart Is Romance Collection

by Andrea Boeshaar

  Dillon smiled. Leave it to Penny to think up such a clever plan. He gazed down at the girl. “Tell Miss Penny I accept her invitation and that, after I fetch my fishing gear, I’ll head to the river posthaste.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell her.” With that, Martha ran in the direction of the Rogerses’ wagons.

  Wagging his head in her wake, Dillon thanked the Lord that the events of the day had suddenly taken a turn for the better.

  Chapter 5

  A safe distance away from camp and a ways downstream from where the men fished, women and young girls stripped to their chemises on the shore of the Salmon Creek and bathed. Penny filled a pail of water for Beth, who stayed ashore and washed up. But most of the others plunged right in, Penny included.

  Floating on her back, she gazed at the dusky sky. Only a couple of hours of light left and supper still had to be cooked. Even so, Penny couldn’t get herself to rush with her bath as the cool water felt delightful after a day on the hot, dusty trail.

  “Be careful, Penny,” Bethany warned from the bank.

  “I will.” She righted herself and smoothed her soaking wet hair back from her forehead. “Come on in, Beth. The current isn’t swift, and look how shallow the water is right here.”

  A few young girls splashed her and giggled, and Penny splashed them right back.

  “My guess is the men have returned to camp with the fish,” Bethany said, stepping into the water. She stopped when it reached her knees. “They’ll need to be cleaned….”

  “Who? The men or the fish?” Penny laughed at her jest and earned several chuckles from the women around her. Even timid Emma Harris—make that Emma Brewster, since she married the preacher—smiled at the quip. But seeing Bethany’s head shaking in disapproval, Penny made for the shoreline.

  “Oh, all right… but I’ll say this. Since you married Josh, you’ve grown much too serious.”

  “Perhaps I’ve just grown up,” Bethany retorted, handing Penny a towel and dry clothing. “And maybe it’s time you did the same.”

  Penny froze. Had those words really come from Bethany’s mouth? “You’re sounding more like Mrs. Throckmorton every day.”

  Bethany whirled around and walked into the makeshift dressing area, privatized by two sheets draped from one tree to another. She dressed in a hurry. Then before Penny had even donned a fresh calico, her friend marched off.

  Penny thought back on the day and tried to recall a time that she had offended Bethany, but no incident came to mind. Why did she act angry? Perhaps the heat had adversely affected her.

  Brushing out her long hair, Penny knotted it in a fat braid that fell to the middle of her back. Next she gathered her wet things.

  “There you are, Penny Rogers.”

  Looking over her shoulder, she saw Lavinia Millberg standing several feet away. Her too-wide mouth curved with condescension.

  “Would you mind helping me dress? I just loathe the fact that we couldn’t bring our maid. But it’s just as well, I suppose. She was the laziest woman on God’s green earth!”

  Surprised by the request, but deciding it was her Christian duty to help, Penny dropped her laundry. Stepping forward, she took the dress from Lavinia. It was all pink ribbons and white lace and the most impractical gown for their present circumstance— but so was the rest of Lavinia’s wardrobe.

  “I rode beside Dillon today,” she cooed as Penny began fastening the tiny pearl buttons in back of the dress. “He is such a charmer, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” Penny replied, thinking it’d be just like Lavinia to try and trick her into admitting her interest in Dillon. She would most likely go straight to her father with the report, and Dillon would lose his job.

  “Well, I know. That rascal had his hand on my knee for nearly a mile.”

  She’s lying, Penny thought, but she refused to speak her mind and give her heart away to this little conniver.

  “But don’t say a word, Penny Rogers, because if Daddy finds out, he’s liable to strangle Dillon with his bare hands!” Lavinia paused before adding, “Either that, or he’ll make Dillon marry me.”

  With only half the dress buttoned, Penny purposely gave the fabric a hard yank. “Why, Lavinia Millberg, I believe you’ve gained weight. I can’t fasten the rest of this dress for the life of me!”

  “What?” She pivoted. “That’s impossible.”

  “Such a shame, too,” Penny drawled, fingering the lace collar.

  Lavinia’s eyes narrowed dangerously before she slapped Penny’s hand away. “This dress fits me just fine!”

  Penny sighed. “I’m afraid it doesn’t. But perhaps you’ll get a chance to walk off your thick waistline tomorrow.”

  Lavinia gasped indignantly while Penny lifted her wet underthings from out of the long grass. She folded them up in the towel with which she’d dried off.

  “You’ll be sorry you insulted me so!”

  Penny replied with a nonchalant shrug.

  However, as she made her way back to camp, she didn’t feel good about her behavior. Not in the least. Instead of being a godly example, she had acted just as mean-spirited and callous as Lavinia.

  Heavenly Father, please forgive me, she prayed. I don’t know what You’re going to do with me. Maybe Beth is right. It’s time for me to grow up….

  Penny began climbing the dirt-packed bank, which, she soon discovered, had been easier to descend. A few more steps, and suddenly a large hand appeared before her. Intuitively, she took it; and when she glanced up, she found herself looking into Dillon’s brown eyes.

  “My hero!” Penny exclaimed blithely. She made it the rest of the way up the steep hill with little effort, thanks to his help.

  At the top of the bluff, Dillon proudly displayed the bluegills he’d caught. “Your brother hooked a passel as well.”

  “We’ll eat hearty tonight.”

  “Praise the Lord!”

  Penny smiled. She noticed then that Dillon’s clean, white cotton shirt was rolled to the elbows and that his dark slacks with their suspenders looked equally as crisp. His sandy-brown hair was wet, but parted and neatly combed. His overall appearance was a telltale sign that he’d also enjoyed a dip in the river.

  “That’s better,” he said.

  “What’s better?”

  “You’re smiling. I never did see such a dark frown as the one you wore climbing that hill.”

  “Oh, it’s Lavinia Millberg. Doesn’t she just rattle my cage, though?”

  Dillon laughed. “She rattles everyone’s cage,” he said as they began walking back to camp together.

  “She told me that you had your hand on her knee for a whole mile and that if her father finds out, he’ll make you marry her—a regular shotgun wedding.”

  Dillon shook his head. “He’d have to shoot me dead, that’s for sure.”

  Somehow Penny found the facetious remark comforting.

  “Well, I didn’t act like a proper young lady should,” she confessed. Penny chanced a peek at Dillon, hoping to gauge his reaction. He looked back at her from out of the corner of his eyes, his expression unreadable. “I insulted her. I insinuated that she’s fat.”

  He gave a tight-sounding little cough, and it occurred to Penny that he was doing his best not to laugh.

  “It’s not funny, Dillon.”

  “You’re right. My apologies.”

  “Accepted.” On that note Penny sighed audibly. “I guess it’s time for me to grow up and put childish things, like sparring with Lavinia, behind me. Papa says I’m a wildflower, but I suspect it’s high time I become a rose.”

  “I like you just the way you are, Miss Penny Rogers.”

  “Papa would say that’s because you don’t know me very well.”

  Dillon chuckled. “Well, we’re working on that, aren’t we?” He smiled so wide, a dimple appeared in his clean-shaven cheek. “I enjoyed your last letter.”

  Penny felt herself blush.

  They slowed their s
trides as they neared the wagons. “I’ll try to write one back tonight.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I reckon I oughta speak with your pa.”

  Penny nodded.

  An awkward moment passed between them.

  “I probably should, um, help Bethany with supper.”

  Dillon handed her the fish. “I already cleaned ’em.”

  “How thoughtful of you…”

  He shrugged.

  “Excuse me, Penny dear,” Bethany’s voice cut in.

  She turned and regarded her sister-in-law, who stood just a few feet away.

  “Could I have a word with you?”

  “Of course.” Looking back at Dillon, Penny smiled. “Please excuse me.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m so terribly sorry for the awful things I said,” Bethany blurted once they were out of earshot. “I don’t know what’s come over me lately.”

  “It’s the heat,” Penny said. “And we’re all so weary from this journey.”

  Bethany nodded, but there were tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Here, now, Beth, don’t cry. I forgive you. All is well.” With an arm around her friend’s shoulders, Penny lifted the bluegills with her other hand. “We’ve got fish to fry.”

  Bethany nodded once more.

  “Besides, when you hear of what I told that haughty Lavinia Millberg, you’ll laugh till your sides ache. That is, after you reprimand me for my audacity.”

  “Oh, no, Penny, what have you done now?”

  She grinned. “I’ll tell you while we prepare supper….”

  Chapter 6

  After a satisfying supper, Isaiah Rogers took hold of his daughter’s hand and fairly dragged her into the center of their camp.

  “It’s time, Penny.”

  “Oh, Papa, not tonight,” she protested, but her objections went no further than those first few words. Her father seemed adamant about performing a Shakespearean classic. “I refuse to play the role of Ophelia again,” she managed, loud enough for Papa to hear. “I don’t feel like dying tonight.”

  “Very well. How about a scene from Twelfth Night?”

  “How about Romeo and Juliet instead?”

  “I thought you said you didn’t feel like dying.”

  “Oh, for pity sakes, Papa, we don’t have to do that tragic scene in which Juliet kills herself. How about one of the more, um… romantic scenes?”

  “Hmm. I can’t imagine who you would choose to play Romeo,” Papa teased with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

  Penny gave him an impish grin.

  Papa sighed. “All right. A monologue it will be.” He faced the rapidly growing crowd. “Ladies and gentleman,” he began, “my lovely daughter has agreed to perform a short presentation of William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.” Leaning over, he whispered to Penny, “Which portion of the play?”

  “Act three, scene two.”

  Isaiah nodded. Then, to his audience, he began to deliver a brief synopsis of the play. “Romeo and Juliet have fallen in love, but their families are bitter enemies. In secret, the couple marry; however, one of Juliet’s relatives finds out that Romeo had attended a feast that he was not invited to. The two men get into an awful argument, and Romeo ends up killing the fellow—in self-defense, of course. Nevertheless, he is banished from the kingdom and Juliet is set to marry another man.

  “But the night before the wedding, someone gives her a potion that will render her lifeless for forty-two hours. Unfortunately, there’s a misunderstanding and word gets to Romeo that his dear, sweet Juliet is dead. Of course this is not true; she had only pretended death in order to avoid marriage to Count Paris.

  “Devastated, Romeo kills himself. Then, when she awakens from her imposed slumber and discovers her beloved is dead, Juliet, too, commits suicide—”

  “And all that tragedy could have been avoided,” Reverend Brewster cut in, standing outside the circle of onlookers with his arm around his lovely wife, “if only Romeo and Juliet had obeyed God’s fifth commandment and honored their parents.”

  A hearty “Amen!” sounded from several in the audience, while others chuckled.

  “Those are words fitly spoken, Preacher,” Isaiah affirmed, nodding to the man. “And now my daughter will perform a scene from Shakespeare’s play in which Juliet is pining for her beloved Romeo…,” Papa glanced in Pastor Brewster’s direction, “… in spite of her parent’s wishes, the disgraceful girl!”

  “Thank you very much, Papa,” Penny quipped, and more laughter emanated from the crowd.

  Papa gave her an affectionate wink, and Penny laughed softly. They played well off each other and always to the delight of their audiences.

  “I’d be obliged to play Romeo,” John Wentworth called out. “You’re more than welcome to pine over me, Miss Penny.”

  “I’m afraid Romeo isn’t in this scene, my man,” Papa said quickly. Then he bowed to Penny and stepped off to the side.

  “Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,” she began. “Towards Phoebus’ lodging: such a wagoner….”

  Dillon scratched the back of his neck, feeling a mite confounded as he watched Penny’s dramatic interpretation. Tonight, like all the other times he’d seen her perform something from Shakespeare, he didn’t understand all she said. The plain truth was, Shakespeare’s writing ran deeper than he cared to fish. He had studied the bard’s masterpieces only briefly in school; and if he remembered correctly, he didn’t earn high marks in that particular class. But from the way Penny held her right hand over her heart, he could well believe she was “pining,” just as her pa said.

  Dillon exhaled a long, slow breath and continued to watch Penny’s theatrics. He had to admit, he took pleasure in watching her—the expression of longing reflected on her face as she looked up to the heavens, the graceful movements of her arms.

  Her gaze suddenly met his and for a good half minute she spoke to him as though he were Romeo and they were the only two in the whole universe. In that brief span of time, Dillon realized that if he hadn’t already fallen in love with Penny Rogers, he had now. What’s more, he didn’t see her single anyone else out, which told him all he wanted to know.

  Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against one of the covered wagons. He casually scanned the crowd, curious to see folks’ reactions to Penny’s recital. Most were smiling, especially the ladies. But the men…

  Dillon’s thoughts came to a hard stop when he found John Wentworth staring back at him. If looks could kill, Dillon figured he’d be maimed at best; but he held the other man’s gaze to make a point. Finally Wentworth slapped his hat on his head and left the crowd.

  Dillon grinned and returned his attention to Penny. Good, he thought, one less score to settle.

  “Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night,” Penny said, gazing at Dillon again. “For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night whiter than new snow on a raven’s back….”

  Penny finished her monologue and earned the applause from her onlookers. Clapping, Dillon pursed his lips and couldn’t help wondering if women really equated all those things to love… wings of night and new snow on a raven’s back? If they did, he sure had a lot to learn.

  He watched Penny curtsey and exit center stage, which was really no more than a place near the campfire. Then Professor Rogers reappeared and encouraged others to share their talent. A heavy-set woman with dark brown hair eagerly stood and announced that she’d recite a poem she’d written.

  “I wrote it while on this journey,” she informed the spectators. Clearing her throat, she began, “We are weary travelers on the Oregon Trail, with nothing in foresight but our oxen’s swishing tail….”

  Dillon stifled a yawn and decided to make for his bedroll. He’d had enough prose for one night. Pivoting, he stepped around a few other folks and headed for his tent. Halfway there, he met up with Penny.

  “What did you think of my performance?” she asked with a little smile.

&n
bsp; “You did fine. Just fine.”

  She tipped her head, and Dillon had a feeling he was supposed to say something more.

  “I’m afraid I’m not much of a fan of Shakespeare,” he blurted before she could ask. “All those words you said tonight didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, but I liked watching you say them.”

  “Well, thank you… but you don’t appreciate Shakespeare? I mean… I thought that was a very romantic scene.” She put her hands over her heart. “Couldn’t you just envision a young woman who’s so in love that she can’t wait for her beloved to return and hold her in his arms once more?”

  “Well, now, Miss Penny,” Dillon drawled, “if you’d said it like that, I wouldn’t have missed the point.”

  She laughed softly.

  “May I walk you back to your wagon or were you planning to rejoin the group?”

  “Are you planning to rejoin the group?” Penny countered with a hopeful expression, illuminated by tonight’s half moon.

  At that moment, Homer Green began playing a lively tune on his fiddle. Dillon thought about going back and making merry with the others if it meant he could stay in Penny’s company. However, the latter was not meant to be, since Old Man Millberg would be watching him like a hound dog.

  “Reckon I’m turning in for the night.”

  “Guess I’ll do the same.”

  Side by side, they ambled in the direction of the Rogerses’ wagons. As they passed the tent Dillon had pitched for himself, Orson Millberg’s voice thundered through the darkness.

  “Trier, I want to speak to you!”

  Penny gasped; and then, before he could even think, she ducked into his tent. Wide-eyed and suddenly imagining all sorts of implications, Dillon swallowed hard. What on earth was that girl thinking?

  “Trier?”

  “Yes, sir?” Moving slowly around, he could just barely make out the older man’s stout figure as he came closer.