by Carla Kelly
Papa Brown stood and held out his arms. “Susannah! How good to see you. Are you all right? You’re a little peaked.” He smiled with his familiar stooped shoulders and his kind, lined face.
After the frustrations of her morning and long walk, her father-in-law’s welcome felt like a safe harbor after a storm. She walked to him and lay her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes at the comfort of his embrace and the smell of the familiar odor of horses and hay. She sighed, but when his arms tightened on a tender spot, she flinched.
“Ouch.” She pulled away.
“What’s wrong?” Papa’s voice held concern.
“She tangled with a calf out on the road,” Douglas said. “Which reminds me— I’ve got your milk.” He walked past them to the back door.
Mama Brown’s dark eyes moved from Susannah to Douglas’s retreating form. “What’s he talking about?”
“I met him on the road to town just after Sweetie kicked me.”
Both Mama and Papa Brown simply stared, so Susannah explained. “I fixed up a saddlebag so Lady’s calf could carry the milk. It must have slipped back to her flanks.” She touched her ribs under her right breast. “She kicked me right here.”
Her mother-in-law got to her feet. Tall and slim, she wore her black hair braided forward with the long plaits pinned like a crown on top of her head. It gave her a regal, no-nonsense air that was somehow comforting. “Come into the spare room and let me see it.”
When Susannah had stayed in that room during the first six months of her widowhood, she’d thought of it as the spare tomb. She followed her mother-in-law and closed the door behind her. “I thought maybe a dose of your willow-bark tea would help with the pain.”
“I’ll brew some, but first unbutton your dress.”
Susannah did as she was bidden, stripping off her bodice, corset and chemise. She found herself looking at her nude torso in the mirror, and she blushed as she remembered Wesley cupping her breast and murmuring, “Your stature is like a palm tree, and your breasts are like its clusters.” He said he was quoting from the Bible, but the words sounded more like something from his book of poems.
“Let’s see now. Where did… never mind. I see the bruise.” Mama Brown probed the area with gentle fingertips, apologizing whenever Susannah winced. Then she helped her back on with her chemise and picked up the corset. “I don’t think you’ve broken a rib. It will probably be sore for a few days, but that’s all.”
Susannah raised her arms so her mother-in-law could hook the fasteners. “Mama Brown, who is that man out there?”
“What man? You mean Douglas? He’s my son.”
Susannah blinked. She would have been less surprised if Mama Brown had said the man in the kitchen was Billy the Kid. “But he said his last name was Cooper.”
“It is. His father’s name was Adam Cooper.”
Susannah was too stunned to say anything.
Mama Brown hooked the last fastener. “Adam died of smallpox when Douglas was two.”
“Smallpox? But they’ve had a vaccination for that forever. It’s compulsory in Boston. Has been since 1843.”
“Adam didn’t hold with vaccinations.”
Susannah pulled on her bodice. “Wesley said he had a brother named Sonny.” The notorious Sonny who had to leave town suddenly after almost killing a man in a barroom fight. All of a sudden, Billy the Kid seemed not so far-fetched.
“We always called him Sonny, but he goes by Douglas now.”
As she buttoned her dress, Susannah remembered the scene in the Browns’ kitchen last week when her in-laws said it was time for her to go back to her own place at Hidden Spring. Cringing at the memory of how she had acted, she blurted, “I’m sorry for what I said to you last week.”
“What was that?”
“I said you didn’t know how it feels to lose someone, to be left alone.”
Mama Brown took her by the shoulders. “Then remember this, Susannah. You can love again. You will love again.”
Susannah closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Let’s get you some willow-bark tea.” Mama Brown opened the door to the kitchen, and they went out.
Douglas was back again, coffee cup in hand. “I put the milk in the spring house.”
“Thank you, son.” Mama Brown took a tin out of the cupboard and shook some of the contents into a cup. She poured in hot water from the kettle and handed it to Susannah. “Let it steep for a few moments. Sugar’s on the table.”
Susannah took the cup and sat, stirring the wood chips and watching the water take on a yellowish hue. She looked up to find Douglas’s eyes on her and quickly returned her gaze to the tea. What was he looking at? Didn’t he know it was impolite to stare?
No one spoke for a moment, and then Papa Brown broke the silence. “Has Lady started giving more milk now that she’s on better pasture?”
“She has. I may have to get more milk pails.”
“And more customers,” added Mama Brown. “You’ll have a tidy little business if all goes well.”
Douglas took a sip of his coffee. “And if Sweetie cooperates.”
Papa Brown stood. “I think that’s mighty clever of you to make that calf into a pack animal. I’d like to see the saddlebags you made. Come on out and show them to me.”
Susannah was shy about having her father-in-law see her handiwork, but she followed him out the back door and through the porch. The erstwhile quilt hung on the top rail of the backyard pen, a bright splash of color in a sepia landscape.
Mama Brown had followed them out. “Wasn’t that Ivy Patterson’s wedding present?”
Susannah smiled. “It was, but Ivy was so mad at me for stealing Wesley from her that she gave us something she found in the attic. I doubt she would even remember it.” She fingered the quilt. “It gave me the idea of calling my business Patchwork Dairy. I like the colors. I think it’ll draw attention.”
“It’ll draw attention, all right.” Douglas came to stand by his mother. “Especially when it’s slung over that calf and you’ve got the halter on sideways.”
“Do I? I thought it looked strange.”
Papa Brown let himself into the pen, caught the calf, and fixed the halter so the rope was tied in the right place and the odd-looking loop was gone.
“Thank you, Papa Brown. You’re such a gentleman.” Susannah threw a meaningful glance at Douglas, but he had his hands in his pockets and was concentrating on grinding a dirt clod to powder with the toe of his boot.
Papa Brown put the saddlebags on Sweetie and stood back. “If you’ll fix a strap to come around front and keep the whole outfit from shifting back, I think you’ll be fine.”
“I’ve already got something figured out,” Susannah said. She looked up at the approaching thunderheads. “I’d better be getting back home. Do you have your empty milk can?”
“I’ll get it.” Mama Brown headed for the house. “And I’ll get you some willow bark to take with you.”
Half an hour later, Susannah was on her way home. The rain loomed closer, and a cooling breeze had sprung up. The dull throb in her ribcage was gone, the saddlebags held two extra milk jugs Papa Brown had found on a shelf in the spring house. Mama Brown’s comment about a tidy business started wheels in Susannah’s brain churning ideas all the way home.
When she arrived, the rest of the day was spent in chores. She braved pounding rain to bring Lady up from the lower pasture then braved it again to carry the evening’s milk to the cave that hid the frigid spring. When she finally made it back to the house with two buckets of water to do the washing up, she was dismayed to find the roof leaking. Sighing, she found the vase Wesley had brought home after they’d discovered the hole in the roof. Back then, sitting on the settee with his arm around her, she had thought the sound of water dripping into the blue ceramic urn was magical. Now she wished he had spent the money on tar to fix the roof. She plopped the vase on the floor and went to make a fire to heat the kettle.
After washing
the strainer and buckets, she brewed a cup of willow-bark tea and drank it with a piece of bread and butter for supper. Then she spread Ivy Patterson’s quilt on the table and began working on alterations, adding a sash that would tie in front and hold the quilt from slipping back. When she was finished, she put on her nightgown and braided her hair. Then she got in bed and blew out the lamp.
She lay there listening to night sounds as she waited for the sheets to warm. The rain had stopped, but the plink-plink-plink of water dripping in the living room continued. She heard the plaintive cry of a night owl and then the reassuring sound of Sweetie moving about in the pen next to the lean-to. Pulling the blanket up around her ear, she curled up on her side, looking forward to having Wesley with her again in dreams that seemed so real she hated to wake each morning.
She finally drifted off to sleep, but it wasn’t Wesley who came to see her. It was a dark haired man with a rough patch above the black stubble along his jaw line. He watched her over the rim of his coffee cup and assured her that he was a gentleman.
Chapter Four
Susannah woke to sun streaming in the window and the sound of Lady bawling next door. The Jersey had spent the night in the milking parlor, since it had seemed cruel to send her out into the pouring rain. Susannah would have to face cleanup for that bit of kindness, but she didn’t mind. She was anxious to get the morning chores done so she could get to town to start implementing her new ideas.
Not pausing to fix her hair, she pulled on a work dress and the stout shoes she wore around the farm. She built up the fire and put the kettle on before going out to put Sweetie in the upper pasture. “Eat quickly,” she called as she closed the gate. “We’re going to town today.”
She took time to open the middle pasture gate for Lady before trotting back to the house. By the time she got there, the water in the kettle was warm. She poured it in a basin and picked up a rag. “You’ll like this, Lady,” she murmured. “No cold water for you.”
The Jersey was standing at the trough when Susannah opened the double doors, and it only took a moment to throw some grain into the manger and lock her in the stanchion. Grabbing a bucket, she sat on the stool and rested her forehead against the cow’s warm, silky side. She dipped the cloth into the water, washed the udder, and then reached for the two back teats.
“I’ve gotten pretty good at this,” she said as milk streamed into the bucket. “You wouldn’t know that I’ve only been milking for two weeks, would you?” She paused to consider a moment without breaking rhythm. “Actually, you would know, but I think anyone else would think I’m an old hand.”
Lady shifted her weight and sighed, and Susannah chuckled. “Is that a comment? Hold on. I won’t be too much longer.”
She worked silently, watching the bucket fill. When she had stripped the last of the milk into the pail, she set it aside and undid the stanchion. Lady backed up, turned, and sauntered out into the sunshine, heading down the lane toward the middle pasture where the gate stood open for her.
Susannah fed the chickens before she carried the milk outside, glancing to see if Lady had turned into the pasture. The sight of a rider atop a sorrel horse at the middle gate caused a fluttering in her chest and then dismay because her hair was still in braids, and she wore old work clothes. She ground her teeth at the thought. Why should she care if he saw her like this? It was just Douglas Cooper. She would be polite for the sake of Mama Brown.
She watched him close the gate and turn the sorrel in her direction. Tossing her head, she continued on into the house. Politeness didn’t mean she had to wait on the doorstep.
Inside, she strained the milk and poured it into gallon jugs, ready to go to the spring. She set the dishpan on the table and was busy washing the milking things when Douglas knocked at the door.
“Come in.” As she turned away to hang the strainer on a nail, she heard the screen open, and a flutter returned to her chest. She frowned as she turned around to face him.
Neither of them spoke. His eyes raked her over from head to toe, and her chin came up as she met his gaze. “Good morning, Mr. Cooper. Thank you for closing the gate.”
“Don’t mention it.” Still he stared.
“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Why are you here?” She picked up the kettle and began to scald the milk bucket.
Finally he looked away. Casting his eyes around the room, he apparently spied a straight-back chair and moved toward it. Unfortunately, the blue vase sat in his path, and he kicked it over. “What the devil?” He watched water spreading across the floorboards. “What’s that doing on the floor?”
Nettled, Susannah set down the kettle, crossed over to pick up the vase. “Is that any of your business?”
He didn’t answer but stood, hands on hips, examining the ceiling. “Got a leak in the roof?”
“I repeat, is that any of your business?”
“Could be.” He walked to the chair and sat.
“Won’t you sit down?” Susannah set the vase on top of the cupboard.
He leaned back and smiled. “Thanks for the reminder that my manners need improving. I’ll not argue with you there. In fact, that’s why I’m here.” He gestured toward the other chair. “Will you please sit too?”
Susannah glanced at the clock on the shelf. Her morning was slipping away.
“It will only take a minute. Please.”
She sat.
He clasped his hands in his lap and looked down at them. He cleared his throat.
Susannah looked at the clock again. “Mr. Cooper…”
He held up one hand, still not looking at her. “This is harder than I thought.”
She waited. She could see a pulse beating at his temple.
Finally he lifted his eyes. His face was pale and his expression very serious. “I’m sorry.” He spread his hands. “I should have fixed the halter for that calf instead of making fun of how you had it.”
Susannah frowned. “You came all the way out here for that? Why?”
He turned around to look out the door as if checking for a getaway route, then rubbed his hand along his jaw. “I spent sixteen years fighting against everything Nathan Brown tried to teach me, and I’ve spent the last five learning that I shouldn’ta been fighting. I shoulda been listening and learning.” He shrugged. “Yesterday, he fixed the halter for you. I shoulda done that.”
Susannah didn’t know what to say. It was her turn to look at her hands.
He cleared his throat again. “I’d like to fix your roof.”
She shook her head. Then she met his eyes, softening her refusal with a small smile. “There’s too much to do around here. If I let you do that, you’d find something else and ask to do that, all to atone for a wretched halter.” She stood. “Besides, Wesley’s folks— your folks— want me to be able to take care of myself.”
He stood as well, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Then hire me to do it.”
She laughed. “I don’t have money to pay someone to fix it. If I did, it wouldn’t be leaking.”
“Feed me supper,” he said. “I’m staying at Gertie’s Boarding House. I don’t think I can face another meal there today.”
“You’ll repair the roof if I feed you supper? Isn’t that like buying a pig in a poke? You don’t know what kind of a cook I am.”
“You couldn’t be worse than Gertie. Is it a deal?” He put out his hand.
She was going to refuse, but the look in those dark eyes wouldn’t let her. She shook on it.
He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Well, that went better than I expected.”
“Am I such an ogre?”
He cocked his head. “I’m not sure what that means.”
“A monster. Am I a monster?”
His dark eyes were serious. “No. You’re not a monster. You’re—” He paused, then shrugged. “I’ve never been good with words.” Turning, he walked to the door. “Five o’clock? Six o’clock?”
“For supper? How about half past five?”
He nodded and lifted his hand in farewell. When he’d gone out the door, she moved to the screen and watched him walk to his sorrel and mount, noting again the straight back and broad shoulders.
She turned away to finish washing the milk things, her mind busy with ideas for supper. As she considered the merits of noodles compared to dumplings, she became aware that he was whistling as he rode away. She recognized the tune.
It was “Oh, Susannah.”
Chapter Five
Two o’clock that afternoon found Susannah and Sweetie in front of the office of Archie Patterson, Attorney at Law. As she stood in the street gathering her courage, Ivy Patterson stepped out and closed the door behind her. Dressed in a pink dress with leg-o-mutton sleeves and a slight bustle, she carried a pink parasol.
“Good afternoon.” Ivy’s lips moved into the straight line that Susannah had learned was her rendition of a smile.
“Hello, Ivy.”
“Making your rounds, I see.” Her former employer’s daughter came down the steps and paused a moment to finger the fabric of the quilt. She examined the pink taffeta flowers Susannah had snipped off a party dress and attached to Sweetie’s halter. Only when Ivy touched the matching taffeta sash, sewn to the quilt and tied in front in a huge bow, did Susannah remember that the dress had been a hand-me-down from the Pattersons when she worked for them.
“Very clever.” Again the straight-lined smile before Ivy continued across the street.
Watching her go, Susannah realized she had been holding her breath. She exhaled, tied Sweetie to the hitching post, and pulled a copy of Wesley’s book out her apron pocket. Straightening her shoulders, she climbed the two steps to the boardwalk that ran through the two-block business district, and she opened the door of the law office.
As she came in, a balding, middle-aged clerk sat at his desk behind the railing and looked over his spectacles. “Hello, Mrs. Brown. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
