“Now, why do you want me to marry your momma, Michael?”
“Because if you don’t, another man may come along and marry her. I don’t want another man for my dad.”
“Why me?” Joseph asked, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline with the thought of Esther marrying another man.
Over my dead body.
“Because you are everything my father should be,” Michael explained. Joseph gave him a puzzled look.
“What do you mean?”
Michael looked impatient that Joseph was not understanding the urgency of the matter. “You are who momma described,” Michael whispered loudly and then he grinned sheepishly. “Momma is always telling me what my dad will be like… and it is just like you. Also, Teacher says you have a ranch. Do you have horses, too?”
“Michael!” Esther suddenly said sternly. Both Joseph and Michael jumped while maintaining an earnest expression of innocence. Esther eyed both of them suspiciously, “What are you talking about?” Michael looked at Joseph pleadingly, begging for secrecy. Joseph gave him a knowing nod of assurance. “We were talking about the Harvest Festival. I overheard some of the parents discussing it today and was asking Michael about it.”
Michael giggled and nodded eagerly.
Esther looked unconvinced, but then decided to shrug it off. “I am glad you brought that up,” she said, turning to Abby. “You see, the Mayor’s daughter is expecting—only two months along—anyway, I stopped by the other day and her mother who was visiting asked me to place these flyers in the schoolhouse so that the parents would get them. It informs them about the auction.”
“Auction?” Joseph asked.
“Yes. Women put their name on a basket and then men bid for their baskets. The winner is promised a picnic with that woman.”
Abby squealed and clapped her hands. “Oh, we have had those in Texas with our church. The husbands always bid on their wives and boys always bid on the girl they like.”
Joseph instantly turned his attention to Esther. “Are you going to be putting your name on a basket, Miss Esther?”
She nodded. “I sure am, and then Michael will bid on it. We’ve already discussed it.” She smiled at Michael excitedly as if they shared a secret.
“We’ve been practicing my bidding skills,” Michael told Joseph. “Then Mom and me will go to our special place and have lunch.”
“A special place?” Joseph asked.
“It’s just a pretty spot by a stream,” she explained with a careless wave of her hand. “Anyway, we need to inform all the women of Tall Pine. Eliza is putting up flyers in her shop window and around town. I will let people know on my visits, and I was wondering if you could let all the parents know when they drop off their children.”
Abby nodded with another handclap. “Oh, yes I will! I am so excited. It has seemed like forever since there has been anything social in my life.” She took a bite of her food with flushed cheeks. There was now so much to think about. What to wear? Would Will come? Would there be dancing?
Esther smiled remembering the time when dances and social events held such excitement. She still enjoyed them. She liked talking to other women, observing families and couples, but there was not the same thrill of anticipation equated with youth and being single.
Will Joseph go? The thought entered her head without her permission. She looked at him briefly. He was telling Michael a funny story and had her son crying with laughter. He was especially tall and broad for a man, handsome in a rugged sort of way. He would be a fine catch for any woman—just not her.
The rest of dinner went by smoothly. Esther was pleased by how much everyone ate. Michael always ate a lot. Abby, who was still living off simple dinners and probably not near enough what she needed, ate like a miner, and Joseph refilled his plate several times.
“Miss Esther, that was by far the best food I have ever tasted. How did you get to be such a good cook?” he asked, taking one more bite before pushing away his empty plate.
Esther laughed. “Ahh, you should have seen me when I first started to cook for myself and Michael: burnt meat, rock hard biscuits, and bland soup. It was through practice and a love of food that I learned.” She walked over and took his plate, her trim waist next to him. Joseph fought the desire to wrap his arms around that waist and pull her close. Instead he stood up briskly, almost knocking into her.
“Well,” he announced, “the sun is fixin’ to set. Why don’t I take Michael out on Sampson while we still got some light.”
Esther put down the dishes with a small clatter. “All right, but I am coming with you.” She turned to Abby, “Do you need a shawl Abby?” she asked, inviting her to come along.
Abby shook her head. “No, I’m fine, but I will come watch.” She stood up, wiping a few crumbs from her skirt. The four of them went outside onto the porch.
Joseph turned to Esther. “I put Sampson in the barn with your Lancelot—hold on, and I will go get him.” He started to walk away. Esther watched his back for just a second before turning to Abby and Michael.
“You two wait here. I will go with him. I don’t want Lancelot getting spooked with it getting dark and having a stranger in the stables,” she explained needlessly.
Abby nodded, saying that she and Michael would play a little game while they waited. Esther walked quickly after Joseph, running a little to catch up with his long stride.
“Mr. Silver—Joseph,” she called out. Joseph stopped suddenly and then spun around with a wide grin on his face.
“You accompanying me, Miss Esther?” he asked with a slightly arrogant tilt of his chin.
Esther caught up with him. “I need to talk to you,” she said simply. Joseph’s grin grew even wider; he took a small step closer. “You want to go talk in the barn?” His left eye twitched as if fighting back the flirtatious instinct to wink. “It will be quiet in there.”
Unable to help herself Esther sighed with a shake of the head. “It’s not about us.”
“Us?” Joseph asked. “You thought about us?”
Esther lifted her eyebrows and folded her arms across her chest. “Mr. Silver, there is no us. I want to talk about Michael.”
Joseph’s grin fell and he turned towards the barn. “What about Michael?” he asked, continuing ahead.
Esther fell alongside him. “I need to know your intentions,” she said sternly. “It is obvious that Michael has developed some sort of crush on you, and you in turn are being very,” overbearing and inappropriate, “generous to Michael and me. I need to know as a mother why you are being so attentive to my son, and I need to know the truth.”
Joseph stopped walking. They were in front of the barn now. He turned towards, her looking down at her beautiful face and full lips. The sun had cast a golden glaze on everything, including her. She looked unworldly, seeming to belong in some portrait of mythology more than in front of a barn. How much he wanted to grab her and kiss her till her lips were bruised. He wanted to feel her arms around his neck, have the smell of sugar cookies wash over him and feel her hands tangled in his hair.
“Mr. Silver?” Esther asked again tilting her head, “I need to know your intentions, please,” she added with a polite smile that failed to mask a disapproving look.
Joseph chuckled. Her politeness didn’t subtract from her strength.
“Do you really not know my intentions, Miss Esther?” he asked quietly. He needed to gauge her reaction, measure it in order to know how to pursue her.
Esther looked away, the color fading from her face and her proud shoulders slightly dropping. “Mr. Silver,” she began.
“Joseph.”
Esther breathed out a shaky laugh. “Joseph,” she paused biting her lip, “Joseph, if your intentions are toward me then I regret to inform you that you are wasting your time. I do not mean to be harsh. The truth is that you seem like a fine man; handsome, hardworking, and fun.” She swallowed hard. “And it is because you are a decent man that I need to be honest with you: nothing will ever
come about with you and me. So if you are being kind to my son out of hopes that it will spark some interest in me, then please stop. I don’t need Michael thinking his prayers for a father have been answered only to have you leave without sparing him a backwards glance because your efforts towards me have been in vain. So please, if you want to court me, then let me tell you with conviction that it cannot happen, and with that being the case, please leave Michael alone. No more presents, no more stories, no more telling him about how wonderful Texas is.” She inhaled, steadying herself. “I can’t see him hurt, you understand. I will protect him at all costs—even if it means robbing him of temporary joy so he does not have scars on his heart.”
Joseph looked at Esther for a long minute. His jaw was clenched with the left cheek muscle ticking. He didn’t like what she said. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should give up. What could he say to that? What should he say? The truth? Should he tell her that from the moment he saw her he knew with his heart and soul that he was meant to be with her? Should he tell her that he longed to have her, hold her, provide for her and her son? He wanted Michael as his own son. He would care for him as his own. But was she right? Was he wasting his time and hurting an innocent boy? Joseph looked away and took a long breath. He should just leave—tell her what his intentions were, apologize like a gentleman, and leave.
With a heavy heart Joseph opened his mouth to speak. Yet no apology came out. Before words were even spoken, an entire explanation of what he should say entered his head with such suddenness that Joseph’s heart sprouted a small testimony of divine intervention. He felt he knew what Esther needed to hear in order to keep her from shutting the door to her heart.
“Miss Esther,” he began, “I admire you for being such a good mother, and I in no way want to hurt Michael.” He looked back at the distant porch to where Michael and Abby were laughing. Then he nodded towards the barn, walking in with Esther following. “You see, Miss Esther, my father died when I was around ten years of age.” He smiled with a chuckle, “No doubt Abby has told you, considering that girl can barely keep a secret to save her life.”
Esther gave an amused side nod, clearly calmed by his calm reaction to her blunt rebuff.
“Anyway, I was fatherless for a while. My mother, although not as attentive as you are with Michael, worked hard and was good to me, but I still felt the absence of a father. I see a boy like Michael who, despite the lack of a father, is good and happy. It is a credit to you, Miss Esther.” Did she blush? “Michael reminds me much of myself. If I can, but for a brief moment, provide the feelings that come to a young boy when a respected man gives him a gift, teaches him how to ride, or how to build a campfire—well, I guess I would feel like I was doing some good in this world. Some tender good that didn’t just consist of catching fugitives or shooting criminals.”
Esther remained silent, looking at him with a compassion and softness that she had not shown earlier. It encouraged Joseph to go on, “So, Miss Esther, I ask that you let me befriend him. I will make it evident that I am not staying, that there will be an end to me being here. And as for you,” he stopped saddling the horse and looked squarely at her, “a man would be a fool to not find you beautiful and,” alluring, desirable, bewitching and stunning, “capable, but I only ask for your friendship. As a Texan I am loud, blunt, and obtrusive,” he teased.
Esther laughed. “I did not say you were any of those,” she told him with an amused shake of the head.
“No, you didn’t, but those catlike eyes of yours did,” he laughed, walking to remove Sampson from the stall. “So yes, I may seem flirtatious and overbearing, but I only ask and expect your friendship.” As well as a life together, your body and heart, and everything about you, “and nothing more.” He smiled with a finishing nod.
Esther squinted and tilted her head, examining him as she contemplated his words. Joseph held still, feeling very much like a man who had pleaded his case and was now awaiting the verdict. Finally Esther laughed and her face transformed. She had smiled before, even laughed, but everything about her seemed to be so guarded and tightly wound. This laughter was true, youthful, natural, and relaxed. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks grew even rosier.
“Only friendship?” she asked.
Joseph shrugged. “Miss Esther, there have been ninety-nine-year-old grandmothers who awaited my proposal with how I talked. Please do not take offense when I come across too strong.”
Esther looked down with her lips pressed together in a smile that was holding back laughter. “Well then, Joseph,” she looked up with a girlish nod towards the house, “let’s go teach my boy how to ride.”
Joseph nodded, giving a silent thanks to whoever deserved it. No doubt Esther’s walls would build back up, but for a brief moment he saw beyond them. She had room for love, his love. Perhaps with her not taking his eagerness so seriously she would be receptive to it. At least his foot was in the door—so he hoped.
Esther felt like she had swallowed rocks by the time Michael’s first riding lesson was done. She kept leaping forward, afraid he would fall, biting her nails when Joseph would walk away or let him hold the reigns by himself. Her nerves were jumping around watching her young son on such a large horse. Sampson as it turned out was a fine animal, calm and obedient. Joseph was a good teacher. Esther had never seen Michael laugh so much. She was glad that Michael had this experience and she hated to admit to herself that she could not have done half the fine job Joseph did. Joseph—now he was a dark horse. She was sure that he had been interested in her; maybe he was and was simply lying in saying that his kindness had only to do with Michael. He didn’t seem like the flirtatious type, and the few days she had seen him at the school he had given no attention to any of the other women. Of course, they all had husbands, but still. She needed to be careful. The last thing she wanted to do was string along a man. The thought of being close to any man, even close enough to where they thought there was a chance with her, made Esther very uncomfortable.
Michael was giggling now as Joseph pulled him off the horse and swung him over his shoulder, tickling his ribs. Esther fought back the urge to demand that he put her son down since only she was allowed to tickle him. Instead, she smiled. Although she was not fully comfortable with Joseph, his story and its relation to her son had softened her. Maybe it made her realize that he had hardships, trials, and hurts of his own that needed healing. Esther recognized that she had the weakness to erroneously picture men as impenetrable brutes who caused pain and never felt it. Yet Joseph now seemed more human, a human who was thinking of Michael’s best interest. Perhaps just this once she could control her deep etched scorn of men and have one as a friend. No, even friends felt a might too intimate.
“It’s cake time! It’s cake time!” Michael announced, his cheeks rosy with excitement and his eyes bright with exercise.
“You made cake, too?” Abby exclaimed with delight.
Esther shook her head and nodded at Michael. “No, it was Michael who made it. He wanted carrot cake and milk for tonight.”
“Carrot cake?” Joseph set Michael down, “Why that is my absolutely favorite cake in the world, and you made it?” he asked Michael.
The boy nodded with delight. “Yes I did—do you want a big piece or a little piece?”
“Boy, we Texas Rangers don’t eat little pieces. I need a big slice,” Joseph announced, glancing at Esther and hoping to find her looking pleased with him, but she seemed to be unaware of him as she ushered in Michael and Abby, not even looking back to see if he was coming. Well I had a start, Joseph thought encouragingly. Esther had just an hour ago agreed to friendship; he couldn’t expect her to suddenly change into an adoring woman, could he?
Dessert went smoothly with no awkward conversations or quick glances. The cake turned out better than any Esther had ever made. She wondered if Michael’s prayers that the cake would be extra delicious really had been answered. She smiled to herself. It had been her experience that God, as a loving father, was as in
terested in the silly things such as cake tasting good as he was in the soulful and heartfelt things.
Joseph told funny experiences such as chasing down a man who tried to hide by dressing up like a woman only to have some drunkard mistake him for a dead sister-in-law, whom he had hated, and run after him with an iron rod thinking her spirit had come to haunt him. The criminal practically ran to Joseph, begging for Joseph to save him from the drunkard. Esther actually found her sides hurting from laughing. She couldn’t remember when she had laughed this hard. Even with her uncle with whom she was close, their conversations were more intellectual. This easy, simple, fun conversation was new to her and it felt good, like honey to a sore throat.
After Joseph had finished his second helping of cake, Esther stood up announcing that Michael needed to go to bed.
“Please, can I stay up?” Michael begged dramatically.
Esther ruffled his hair. “Sweetheart, I am sorry, but you turn into a little beastie when you don’t get your sleep. Now, go get your pajamas on.”
Michael made a scrunched up face and planted his feet. Esther responded by raising an eyebrow and mouthing the count of: “One, two…” at three Michael threw his hands up in the air.
“Fine, I’ll go,” he whined and then quickly stifled a yawn, “even though I’m not tired.”
Abby smiled and stood up as well. “We best be going, too,” she politely said. She glanced at Joseph, jerking her head for him to stand up. “Joseph, shall we go? I still have to get up early for school tomorrow. With Halloween coming up we will be doing some fun crafts, but I need time to prepare them.”
“Halloween crafts?” Esther asked, clearly delighted. “Abby that is wonderful that you are having the children be creative. Many of these children do not get that chance even though it is very important.”
Abby beamed, her fair skin blushing. “Why, thank you, Esther. Halloween kind of snuck up on me. It’s hard to believe we’re nearing the end of October.” She walked towards the door, shivering as a cool breeze blew in when Joseph opened it. “When does it start snowing? I know there is no specific date as to when the fall session ends—or when the snow starts to fall,” she asked. The snow was certainly not something she was looking forward to. Pretty soon she would need to decide whether to use almost all her newly-saved money and travel back home for the winter or stay through until spring.
Beneath the Heavens Page 16
