Kate opened one eye. “The Bible says the Lord loves a cheerful giver. It doesn’t say He favors a cheerful riser.”
“Sleep in. I’ll help with breakfast today.” Laurel set down her art supplies.
“I’m not ashamed to accept that offer.” Kate rolled to her other side and dragged her quilt over her head.
Johnna grabbed her clothes and swiftly dressed. In the dim light of the tent, she squinted at Laurel. “Might be a good notion for you to wear your laces a bit loose today. Yore cinched in within an inch of yore life.”
“Nonsense. Look. My dress fits the same as it always does.”
Johnna shook her head. “For true, you look bitty as cain be. Plenty of men like that to look at; but when hit comes to gettin’ serious, a man wants a woman whose shape says she’s a healthy ’un.”
“I’m healthy as a horse.” Laurel hoped the conversation would end there.
April propped her head up on one hand and whispered loudly, “Did you notice she didn’t say anything about a man getting serious? I know her too well, Johnna. She’s getting tenderhearted over a certain man.”
“I thunk so, too.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Laurel turned to leave the tent.
“He didn’t wish any of the rest of us sweet dreams,” Johnna said.
“He was worried about me after the bee stings is all.”
“She ain’t foolin’ us. Think she’s foolin’ herself, April?”
April’s giggles filled the tent. Laurel would have gladly dashed out, but if she did, she’d have to explain why her face was so red.
The sound of a horse leaving camp at a trot came through the canvas. Kate sat up and flung off her blankets. “Nobody’s letting me sleep. Even the boys are up and rustling around.”
“I only heard one horse,” Johnna said as she reached for the tent flap. “Hope we don’t have us a horse thief.”
They bolted out of the tent in time to see Gabe riding away. Johnna shook her head. “Silly man’s gonna miss out on biscuits ’n’ gravy. Shoulda waited.”
Laurel’s heart dropped to her knees. What if he heard what they said in the tent?
A few minutes later, Laurel dropped the spoon in the gravy as she stirred it. She burned her hand on the coffeepot. How could she ever face Gabriel Rutlidge again after what he’d overheard this morning? After breakfast, she gathered her tablet and charcoals and escaped to the relative privacy of a nearby stand of trees. It didn’t help distract her. When the second of her charcoals broke under the pressure she exerted, Laurel slammed the tablet shut and let her head drop back against the trunk of the tree she’d been leaning against.
Lord, I don’t know what to do. Back home when boys came to call, it was so easy. I knew them from school and church. But compared to Gabe, they are all such. . .boys. With them, I knew exactly what to expect. Gabe is so different, so wonderful. He understands how I feel about this place. No one else ever looked past the pictures I paint and saw the emotions behind them, but he did. Yesterday, he was so good to me when I got hurt. I didn’t want my brother’s strength or help; I wanted Gabe’s. But Gabe rode off this morning. Did he hear what the girls said in the tent? Will I ever have a chance to get to know him better, or did they scare him off? Was he just being kind yesterday, and I’m making a ninny of myself? I’m so confused, Father.
“Laurel!”
She scrambled to her feet. “Yes?”
Caleb sauntered toward her. “You gals wanted to go for a walk yesterday. You feelin’ up to it now, or do you wanna stay here and draw?”
“Oh, I’d love to come along.”
“Johnna’s hoping you’ll take that camera.”
She stooped to pick up her supplies. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”
“Yup.”
Smothering a smile at the immediacy of his answer, she rose. “Gabe said there are one hundred exposures in the roll. I’m sure we’ll all snap a few pictures.”
“I’d like that.” The light in his eyes tattled that’s what he’d been hoping for. “It’d be good to have pictures of the places we’ve climbed.”
“Absolutely. It’ll be a nice keepsake, and we can show them to everyone back home so they’ll be able to anticipate their trip here next summer.”
He bobbed his head affirmatively. “Go shove your stuff in the tent, and we’ll get going.”
“I made a picnic lunch,” April announced as Laurel came into sight.
“How fun!”
Caleb snorted. “We’re eating outside for every meal. What difference does it make?”
“We eat outside at home a good deal of the time, too,” Paxton tacked on.
“But this will be in a different place,” Kate said. “We don’t want you boys dragging us back to camp after we’ve only been out a little while because you’ve gotten hungry.”
“I need someone to hang the food for me.” April finished knotting the top of a sack. She looked at Ulysses. “If a bear gets to this, you boys’ll have to make your own lunch.”
“Whoa. I got it.” He snatched the bag and headed for the rope dangling from a high branch.
Laurel tucked her tablet and charcoals into the crate in the tent, then grabbed the camera. Turning the black device over in her hands, she wondered how to operate it. Gabe was supposed to stay here today and take us on this hike. He would have shown me how to take photographs.
April ducked into the tent and whispered, “It’s getting hot. I’m shucking one of my petticoats.”
“You are not, April. That’s indecent.”
“Mama lets me wear just two at home in the summertime.”
Shaking her finger, Laurel whispered, “That’s at home. This is out where someone might see you!”
“Like who?” April started to shimmy out of a row of white cotton ruffles.
“Yesterday Mr. Rutlidge showed up.”
“He couldn’t tear his gaze off of you and your pictures long enough to notice anything else in the world.” April opened her trunk and shoved the petticoat inside. “And don’t bother to deny it. I’d give up dessert for a month to have a man look at me that way.”
Kate romped in. “Did you do it?” She stopped cold as a guilty expression crossed her face.
“Laurel told me not to, but I did anyway. Your skirt is dark. The sun won’t shine through it, even if you’re only wearing two. Go ahead,” April urged.
“Kathryn Louise Chance,” Laurel said, “when your mother was your age, she wore all three petticoats and every other proper layer even in the unbearable heat of the tropics.”
“She was a missionary’s daughter and had to serve as an example. I don’t have to be an example. Besides, that was in the olden days.”
Johnna tromped into the tent. “What’s the hold up? Sun’s gonna set afore we ever walk away from this here campsite.”
“I don’t want these girls out there unless they’re decently attired.”
Johnna pursed her lips. “I don’t see nuthin’ wrong.”
“Laurel wants us to wear all three petticoats,” Kate complained.
“Land o’ Goshen.” Johnna’s eyes widened.
Oh, good. She’ll talk sense into April and Kate.
“I’ve only been wearin’ two the whole livelong trip. Ain’t nobody seen anythin’ wicked ’bout it, so I don’t get what the fuss is about. Just shake a leg, else our brothers ain’t gonna set aside any more days to take us on hikes!”
Shoulders drooping, Laurel waited for her cousins, then left the tent. How can everything have gone so topsy-turvy?
Nine
“Hey, Rutlidge!”
Gabe halted Nessie and turned in the saddle. Dust churned under the hooves of the cavalry horses as the men rode across the distance to join him.
“Where’s your packhorse? You camped nearby?”
“Not too far.” Gabe hesitated for a moment. He’d already mentioned the cavalry to the Chances. They’d been more than clear about the welcome th
e men would receive. Then again, Gabe didn’t exactly want these men around Laurel. The girls. I mean the girls, he quickly corrected himself.
“Thing have been quiet,” Captain Wood said. He stretched in the saddle. “I’m going to veer us up toward the pastureland and oust the sheep again. Thousands of those dumb animals, and they’re eating all the vegetation the indigenous animals need.”
“Shore could tolerate a good mutton roast.” One of the soldiers yanked on his uniform coat. “Need somethin’ to keep my slats apart.”
“I think we can do something about that,” Gabe said.
“Oh?” Captain Wood grinned. “Did you go get provisions?”
Gabe shook his head. “Met up with some folks who are camping out here.”
“They got extra grub?” The soldier perked up.
Gabe directed his words to the captain. “They’re good people. You and your men can count on plenty to eat tonight.”
“Lead on,” Captain Wood ordered.
An empty campsite lay before them when they arrived. Gabe looked around, and the only signs of life were some squirrels frisking through the branches and pesky blue jays pecking at crumbs beneath the table. All of the horses were gone, and not a soul stirred. Thinking the girls might be in the tent, he called out, “Hello!”
No one answered.
Gabe didn’t want to dismount. He’d not think to enter someone’s home when they didn’t answer the door, and tramping through an empty campsite felt like the same invasion. The fact that he’d brought ten uninvited guests only added to the strain.
“Hey. Ain’t just men campin’ here,” one of the soldiers said. “Men don’t bother with clotheslines or fancy stitched dish towels.”
“They’re ladies,” Gabe gritted. “And you’ll treat them accordingly.”
“My men wouldn’t think to do otherwise,” Captain Wood said. He then ordered, “Dismount.”
In short order, two men set up a rope corral a ways off from the one the Chance men had established. Gabe still hadn’t dismounted. “River’s that way. I’m going to water my horse.”
The cavalrymen were in the process of mounting up when Ulysses came riding up with a long string of horses behind him. “Howdy!”
“Ulysses.”
“Fine looking horses. I’m Captain Wood.”
“Good to meet you. Ulysses MacPherson. They’re Chance horses. None finer.”
Gabe dismounted and helped Ulysses get the wet horses into the corral. “Looks like they played as much as they drank.”
“That’s a fact. Hot as it is, I reckoned they might like a swim in addition to a drink.” Ulysses grinned. “Kept me from havin’ to haul any water, too.”
“Where are the others?”
“Most of ’em went on a hike. They’re itchin’ to try out that camera. Couple of the boys and me—we lazed around today. I left ’em at the river to swim off some dirt. Johnna told me afore they left this mornin’ that iff’n the boys didn’t clean up today, they wouldn’t get fed tonight.”
Gabe nodded. “I can hear her saying that. About dinner tonight. . .”
Ulysses squinted as he surveyed the soldiers. “I reckon these men are ready for decent vittles. Livin’ in the saddle don’t allow for carryin’ any extras.”
“You said it,” one of the men agreed.
“Why don’t y’all unsaddle and take yore horses for a swim?”
Captain Wood didn’t crack a smile, but his voice took on an entertained tone, “Are you inviting our horses or us to supper?”
“Horses cain take care of ’emselves.” Ulysses folded his arms across his chest. “But I ain’t a-gonna account for what my sis’ll say ’bout me lettin’ scruffy men come to the table when she made that threat afore she left.”
Gabe saw to his horse and made good use of a bar of soap. He hurried at the river, not wanting any of the men to get back to camp before he was there to watch out for Laurel and the girls. When he reached camp, Tanner and Paxton were hiking in from the other side. “You’re back,” he said.
Tanner nodded. “I could say the same thing. You took off early this morning.”
“Yeah, I did.” Gabe shrugged. He wasn’t accustomed to informing others as to his whereabouts. “Where are the girls?”
“Driving Packard, Caleb, and Peter crazy, lollygagging along.”
“Are they tired? Do I need to take horses to them?”
“Nah. They’ve gotta stop every five minutes to gawk.” He caught sight of the new rope corral and saddles heaped by it.
“I met up with the cavalry.”
“I wondered when we’d cross paths.”
Tanner’s bland acceptance left Gabe feeling better. If the women took the dinner guests half as well as the men did, things would be fine. Then again, the men don’t have to do the cooking. . .
Gabe went to the fire pit. The park allowed visitors to chop and use deadwood, and someone had a good-sized stack of wood available. Kindling, logs, and his flint, and he started a fire. “Tanner, where are the coffeepots?”
“Couldn’t say. Suppose I could dig ’round for ’em.”
Ulysses pointed toward one of the buckboards. “They’ve been keepin’ dishes and such in the crates on the back of that ’un. Tanner, why don’t you tote some buckets down to the river. Send the boys back with ’em, and we’ll start up a few pots.”
A short time later, Kate’s voice sounded from a distance. “Oh, I smell coffee!”
The men had been sitting around, jawing. Gabe and the cavalry all shot to their feet.
As soon as they rounded a bend in the path, Peter said, “Gals, looks like we got us some visitors.”
“Really? Who?” April wiggled up beside him.
“United States Cavalry, miss,” Captain Wood announced.
“You soldjer boys hungry?” Johnna asked.
“Yes’m.” The enthusiasm behind that male chorus left everyone grinning.
“If you’ll excuse us for a moment,” Laurel said, “we’ll freshen up and start cooking.” She slipped into the tent.
Gabe walked to his saddlebag, then headed toward the tent. “Laurel?”
She stuck her head out of the flap. After a day of hiking, her hairpins had all skidded around, leaving her bun loose. Wisps of dark hair spun in tiny curls, framing her face. “Yes?”
All of a sudden, Gabe felt ridiculous. He’d gotten up early this morning and ridden clear to Wawona and back to buy these for her. But she needed them. He shoved two bars of soap at her. “Here. Use this. It won’t attract insects like your other stuff.”
She reached out and accepted them. “Thank you.” Looking down at them, she said, “Ivory. Oh—I’ve heard of this. It’s supposed to be very mild! Thank you.”
He nodded. “It floats.” Why did I say that? I’m blathering like an idiot.
“How fascinating!”
April walked up. “Soon as we freshen up, we’ll have dinner going. I already put on the rice to boil. Hey—Ivory soap! I heard those bars don’t sink.”
“Let’s find out.” Laurel’s smile at him made the whole trip worthwhile. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
“It was nothing.”
❧
“Mmm. That was something,” one of the cavalrymen said.
“There’s plenty more,” April said. “Help yourself.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He rose.
The captain handed over his mess tin. “Seconds for me, too.” He turned back to April and Kate. “Best order I’ve given all week.”
“These women can cook.” Gabe’s arm brushed against Laurel’s.
The contact made her want to lean closer—as if it were possible. They were all crowded around the campfire. An enormous pot of rice sat on the table next to two other pots—one was empty now; the other soon would be, by the way the men ate with such gusto.
“April gets the credit.” Laurel set down her fork and patted her cousin. “She’s amazing in the kitchen.”
�
��You all worked on the meal,” Gabe said.
“It was nothing.” April stirred the food on her plate. “It all came from cans and boxes.”
“Nothing we ever make turns out like this,” one of the soldiers grumbled.
“It’s just canned chicken, a box of dehydrated vegetables, and Borden’s condensed milk.” April shrugged.
“And broth and seasonings,” Kate tacked on. “You just dump it over rice.”
Gabe forked up a bite. “Sure beats beef jerky.”
“Anything is better than that,” Laurel agreed.
“Somethin’ else is ticklin’ my nose,” one of the men said.
“Yeah. Here. Hang onto this, will ya?” Johnna shoved her plate into his hands and knelt by the fire. Using the hem of her skirt as a hot pad, she turned a Dutch oven halfway around.
“I’ll get this one.” Laurel rose, and Gabe reached out to take her plate. She smiled her thanks, handed it off, and rotated the second Dutch oven.
As she took her seat and accepted her plate, Gabe’s brows rose in silent question. “Dessert.”
The right corner of his mouth kicked up. “I figured that much out. You ladies wouldn’t let us near the table while you prepared it, so we’re all wondering what it is.”
“I say, we let ’em wonder awhile longer,” Johnna said. “Pa always put for the notion that a man ought to be happy with what’s on his plate and trust the Lord for whate’er would come next.”
“Your daddy must not have had to survive on his own cooking for any length of time,” one of the cavalrymen shot back.
Johnna wrinkled her sunburned nose. “Actually, my pa and two uncles et their own cookin’ for a handful of years.”
“Then when he said he trusted the Lord for whatever came next—assuming their cooking was anything like mine,” Gabe said, “he must have meant whether they’d wind up with food poisoning.”
While the others laughed, Laurel turned to him. “Your cooking is that abysmal?”
“Worse. I even manage to burn oatmeal and corn mush. I wouldn’t mind learning a thing or two.”
“I’d be happy to teach you.”
“Great.” He tilted his head toward the Dutch oven. “How about if we start with that stuff?”
“Mr. Rutlidge! Were you trying to play on my pity to make me reveal what’s cooking?”
Bridal Veil Page 7
