by Danni Roan
“I bet they do.” As they stood watching the plump mare munching her carrot, the leggy foal crept up to the rail stretched his fuzzy neck through the fence and nibbled at the boy’s clothes, making him giggle. Fiona watched that the animal didn’t actually nip and soon she and Eric were both stroking its soft nose.
“He’s really little just like me, in’t he?” Eric asked seriously.
“Yes he is, but like you he’s just a little boy and hasn’t grown up yet. Why some day I bet you’ll be as big as your pa.”
“Nah.” The boy scoffed. “My pa’s so big I’ll never be that big.”
“Well I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. You have a long time until you have to grow up.”
The heavy thump, thump, thump, thump of hooves approaching made both of them turn as the man himself arrived with his two massive horses. Fiona noticed how his dark woolen coat had split at the shoulder and how his boots were wet.
“Who’s growing up?” Hank asked, smiling at his son.
“Fona says someday I might be big as you” the tyke replied. “Didn’t ya? Fona.”
“I did, but I also said it would be a long time before we’d know.” She smiled up at Hank, noting the pensive look on his face and wondered if she’d done something wrong.
“I hope I haven’t done something wrong.” Fiona, now concerned, asked.
Hank stood, horses forgotten, looking at the scene before him. The pretty, dark haired woman stood holding the small hand of his little son.
She had been smiling until a moment ago and the curve of her lips brightened his whole day. Looking to Eric he wondered if the boy would ever grow up as big and strong as he was or if he’d take after his mother and be weak and frail.
He suddenly noticed the concerned look on his companions face and struggle to put together what she’d said. Wrong, something about wrong.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. As a matter of fact, I’d say you’ve done everything just right.”
His intense steely gaze swept over her, and she blushed prettily.
“I mean,” Hank continued, “You’ve been right fine to my son here and to me to and I appreciate it.”
At that moment one of the big horses, tired of waiting, nudged the man hard with his nose, causing him to stumble forward right into the girl before him, pinning her between his body and the rail fence.
A sudden warmth crept from his middle all the way up and down his body at the contact and he struggled to get his balance.
Finally righting himself he looked at the young woman, hoping he hadn’t hurt her. Instead he looked into bright storm green hazel eyes, and felt like he was drowning.
There hadn’t been a woman in his life since Sarah, and the nearness of Fiona was doing strange things to his head. He found himself staring at her, wishing to take a strand of her chestnut hair and wind it around his finger. Fiona hadn’t moved but stood, resting against the stall wall behind her, her eyes wide and her soft rose petal lips slightly parted.
A persistent tugging on his pant leg finally brought Hank back to his senses, and he looked down into the upturned face of his son.
“Eric?” he mumbled still feeling befuddled.
“Pa, I think Jack and Scott want their dinner.”
“Hm?” Hank asked again.
Rolling his eyes, the boy pulled the reins of the towering team from his father’s hands and began walking away. Both horses lowered their heads, shuffling their feet, matching their step to the small person before them.
He’d finally gotten them to the two large stalls in the middle of the barn when the nearest horse snorted loudly blasting his wet breath over the boy.
“Yuk!” Eric wailed, wiping a cheek with his sleeve. “Pa, Jack snotted me!”
It was too much for Hank and Fiona and together their laughter filled the barn with mirth.
Striding toward his son and the offending equine, he pulled a huge bandana from his back pocket and cleaned the boy’s face.
“Come on then,” the man finally said “You help me put them up for the night then we’ll go see what’s for our supper.”
He hefted the boy in one smooth motion onto his shoulders. Fiona smiled at the familial scene and watched as man and boy put one horse in each stall and began unbuckling harness.
The horses, happy to be done with the day’s work, waited patiently for their reward of corn, oats and hay. Once the tack had been stripped from one horse, Hank swung Eric onto the animal’s broad back, and began working on the other.
The sight of the minute figure perched so high stole her breath and she briskly went to stand by the stall in case something happened, but as she got there she saw that Eric had already twined his hands into the horse’s ebony main, sitting up tall and proud.
“He’s alright,” Hanks soft voice came from behind.
He’d stripped off the team’s gear and now held not one but two heavy harnesses in his arms.
“He’s been doing that for a while now and you can’t believe how sensitive Jack is. Why, that boy’s safer on the back of that monster than he could be on his own pony. If I were to turn them out together now, Jack’d move like he was walking on egg shells.”
Fiona breathed, still watching the boy so far up off of the ground then shot her eyes toward the boy’s father. Hank’s quiet smile reassured her and she began to relax.
Jingling like Christmas, Hank hung the harness in the tack room then walked back to his team and lifted Eric back onto his shoulders.
“Shall we?” he asked Fiona, who fell into step with him.
Supper was the usual raucous endeavor at the Broken J. Everyone was talking about the work on Will and Katie’s house and how much they’d accomplished that day.
Most of the foundation was laid and mortared in but there was still plenty of work to do and if the weather held, a trip to the mountains for lumber would be in order.
Hank listened to the clammer but mostly kept quiet absorbing the essence of the conversations while enjoying a hearty meal of pasta with a sweet and tangy tomato sauce and fresh bread straight from the oven.
“We’ll just have to see how the weather holds,” He heard the old builder reply to something Katie had said.
“Don’t rush it,” Will said, smiling at his wife. “Everyone’s doing all they can but we knew it might be spring before we had a place of our own. It will be just fine.”
Gently he put his arm around the tall honey haired girl’s shoulders as she turned smiling Irish eyes on him.
It was nice to see so much affection between a young couple. In Chicago more often than not the couples Hank had seen were struggling to keep a-float with men working long days and woman often forced to take in laundry to help supplement an income that didn’t go as far as it should.
Tired and stressed they’d often snapped at each other out of impatience or worse, some men would turn to drink to drown some of their woes, only to have them resurface in the worst way when dealing with their families.
“Have you done much building before, Mr. Ballard?” one of the twins asked. He noted that the twins had much darker brown hair than Fiona, and that their eyes, a soft brown looked much like their grandmothers’.
“No ma’am. I’ve mostly worked with wood in other ways like making furniture or trim pieces, but I haven’t had much work with that for a while now.”
“Oh, why not?” the dark eyed girl said, her youth or perhaps her nature making her inquisitive.
“Well I’ve been working for a cooper mostly these past few years and delivering products to different establishments in between.”
“Do you like making furniture?” the girl continued.
“Yes ma’am. I do. It’s amazing to take something as plain as a piece of wood, or an old tree and turn it into something beautiful and useful. It’s seems that each time you pick up a block, or chunk, there’s something just wanting to get out.”
A hush had fallen over the table as Hank talked. The passion for his craft
evident in his tone and a spark in his stone gray eyes. Hank flushed as he realized that everyone at the table had been listening to him go on about a dumb old piece of wood. Then from the far end of the table the ancient Chinese man spoke.
“You take pride in what you do, it will make pride for you. Any job, you should do well.” His deep, brown eyes glinted from the folds around them and took on a faraway look.
“A craft-man, he sees the true spirit of a thing and helps to bring it out for all to see.” Chen Lou then fell silent, absorbed in his own thoughts.
A small, delicately formed hand reached out and wrapped itself around his thin, spotted one as Mae smiled up at her grandfather with understanding in her eyes.
“Grandfather was a jeweler in China.” Mae said softly, addressing Hank. “He came here with my mother to protect her against those who did not like her kind.” She looked at him, her eyes defiant. “I mean mixed race.” she added.
Hank looked at the old man and wondered for the first time just how old he was. The man was thin as a rake, but energetic in everything he did, so he never seemed old before. While Hank thought, Mae looked to her grandfather who nodded his head ever so slightly.
“As Mama told it, her mother fell in love with an Englishman. She knew it was wrong but her heart overrode her head and soon she found herself with child.” No one at the table spoke.
They all knew the tale but waited as Mae explained. “Of course they couldn’t marry and soon the man returned to England, leaving my grandmother in poverty and shame. She returned to Yeye, who took her in but once the child was born and others realized that she was not Chinese but the result of a mixed relationship she was shunned. Grandmother could not bear the shame and took her life.”
The girl paused squeezing the old man’s hand again. “Yeye raised the child as his own, but she could never escape the scorn or harsh looks of others so he moved here, hoping for a new start.”
The soft hush of understanding hovered over the table as the tale continued. All of the members of the Broken J adrift in their own memories.
“You were very brave to come all the way to a new country like that,” Hank rumbled at the wizened Chinese man who sat quietly holding his great granddaughter’s hand. “It can’t have been easy.”
Chen Lou studied the huge young man who sat next to the little boy on the other end of the table.
“It not easy,” he finally said but smiled. “I come to California. I work in laundry. It good job, but as Lynn Sue grow, men come. They bother her so I take job with railroad. Doing laundry with them. I disguise my granddaughter as boy.”
The old man smiled, pleased with his ingenuity. “It work good for while then someone find out.” He shook his head making his long white braid waggle back and forth across his back. “Then I lose job.” The old man stopped his explanation, dropping his eyes to the table before him.
“That’s where I came in.” Joshua James spoke up from the head of the table. “I met them and they came to live here. But that’s a story for another time.” He finished his coffee and rose from the table.
“Hank,” he began again, standing and looking down the table. “You need to check your stock?”
“Meg, you want to see that he can find everything out there again? He’s new and we want him to feel welcome.”
Meg turned to her father, a surprised look on her face. “Oh, sure Pa. If you want.” Then she looked up at Hank. “I’ll be ready in a minute.” She turned and left the room.
Hank looked down at Fiona, a soft look in his eyes. “Would you mind looking after Eric a little longer?” he asked. His eyes were kind, his lips pulled into a slight curve.
“I’d be happy to,” Fiona said, smiling up and up at the man. “How’s that sound, Eric?” She wrapped an arm around the boy who slouched, tilting his head back and smiling into her face.
“OK,” his little voice replied cheerfully.
“And do you want to help wash the dishes, or help me with the mending?” She tapped the boy lightly on the nose with her index finger.
“Mm,” he said thoughtfully. “I never did mending, let’s try that.” Fiona laughed and took his hand as her older sister walked back into the kitchen.
“Ready Mr. Ballard,” Meg said, her voice light, lilting.
“Yes ma’am,” Hank replied, shrugging into his coat. Lifting his hat from a peg by the back door, he gestured with a large hand, allowing Meg to proceed him down the hall and out the door.
Hank felt weariness settle on him like a shroud as he walked toward the barn. He could have taken care of this chore on his own but it was kind of Mr. James to think of his situation and ask Meg to help out. She was a lively thing and full of dreams. He smiled to himself, a soft chuckle rolling from his throat.
“Did you say something?” Meg shot over her shoulder as they approached the double doors of the stable.
“No ma’am,” Hank replied, the grin still playing along his mouth. “Just thinkin’ I guess.”
“Oh. What were you thinking?”
Hank hesitated for a minute. Then reaching out to pull one of the heavy doors open, he ushered her into the barn with his words.
“I was just thinking how different all you James girls are. You must keep your pa on his toes.” She grinned back at him.
“I suppose we do, but he’s used to it.” Her smile was bright and friendly and set him at his ease.
“You should hear some of the stories. Why, just this summer Mae tried to bring home a pole cat.” Her eyes twinkled in the lamp light and Hank laughed.
He thought of his own son and wondered what sort of mischief he’d get up to before he was grown.
“Mae keeps us all on our toes.” Meg continued, “A couple of years ago she got herself stuck in a badger den and we all had to go find her.”
Hank continued to check the horses. Despite what looked like heavy work all day, they’d not pulled nearly the weight they were used to so they looked fine. He hoped he’d be able to turn them out for a while soon and simply let them rest.
He leaned a heavy hand on Jack’s back as he looked toward the open stall and the mare dozing with her colt. Fiona’s face drifted back to him. There was something about the girl that pulled at him. The way she looked after Eric. Her smile. Her stormy eyes when he’d fallen against her.
“Mr. Ballard? Mr. Ballard?” Meg’s voice finally penetrated his thoughts. “Are you listening?”
He turned to find his companion glaring at him, hands on hips. “Sorry ma’am.” He stammered. “I was just thinking.”
“Well if you’re done thinking, could we go? It’s getting colder by the minute.” She smiled to take the bite out of her words.
“I’m all done,” he said giving Jack one more pat before turning to the doors. As they walked back to the house Meg told him about Mae’s recent adventures and they were both chuckling as they entered the front door, the sound of their mingled glee rolling like a wave into the parlor where the others sat.
Fiona’s needle stopped its work as if on its own and hovered, poised above the large plaid shirt in her hand. She’d been showing Eric how to sew on buttons, a job his father was obviously incapable of considering how many were missing from his shirt.
A sudden sadness cascaded over her at the sound of her sister and the big man’s laughter. Well, what had she expected, she reminded herself? With a sigh she turned back to her work, not noticing the sudden smirks on the faces of her father and grandparents.
A small soft hand touching her face startled her and she lifted her eyes from her work to see Eric’s tiny face studying her.
“Are you sad Fona?” the little boy asked, big blue eyes serious. She looked at him, feeling him twine even tighter around her heart.
“No,” she lied, “I’m just concentrating. I want this button to stay put this time.” She continued forcing a smile. The blue eyes never wavered as he slipped his little arms around her neck and squeezed.
“Eric?” The booming voice o
f his father echoed across the room as it proceeded the man. “I’m afraid it’s your bed time, young man.”
Hank stopped in the doorway, spellbound by the scene before him. Eric had wound his arms around Fiona’s neck and was squeezing her tight and she was squeezing him back as if she’d never let him go.
“You’d better go to your pa,” she finally whispered, releasing the boy. He kissed her cheek and jumped down from her lap before racing across the floor to be scooped up by his father.
Rising, her eyes still down- cast, Fiona said “good night,” then exited through the kitchen, Meg’s voice chattering away to the rest of her family ushering her out of the room.
Instead of walking through the main hall that would take her back past the parlor, Fiona turned and slipped through Nona and Grans Isadoro’s room and up the back stairs to her room.
As the house sat quiet around her, Fiona lay awake studying the familiar patterns on the wood ceiling above her bed. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised that Hank would find Meg appealing. That they would be laughing together. Meg was beautiful with her tall angular frame, her pale skin and fiery copper tinged hair. Meg had always had something about her, a sparkle.
Katie was always the serious one, at least until she married Will. She’d done nothing but worry and fret over her whole family but Will had made her believe in fun.
Meg, on the other hand, had always been full of the joy of life. She laughed easily, chatted readily and sang like an angel. Something dark growled in protest, deep down in Fiona. For a fleeting moment a glint of jealousy sparked at her sister, but she did love Meg and in the end realized that she truly wanted her to be happy.
The large handsome man had just been a dream to her, it was all he could ever have been. Besides, she’d only met the man, it was all such nonsense. Silently she climbed out of her bed and knelt her bare knees making contact with the cold plank floor. Lifting her eyes toward the window on the other side of the room she whispered a prayer.
“Lord, thank you for your many blessings and thank you for bringing Mr. Ballard and Eric to us.” She paused as her heart constricted in her chest, but smiled at the thought of the small boy who she already loved.
