by Judith Pella
Mrs. Stoddard’s eye arched at Maggie’s indelicate words.
Maggie hurried away toward the outhouse. She didn’t really have to use it, but she couldn’t bear to sit quilting another moment. She had to get away, if only for a few minutes. After visiting the outhouse she started back toward the quilt frames but with an ambivalent step. Then she stopped dead in her tracks. From where she stood, she could see that Mrs. Stoddard had scooted into the chair Maggie had occupied, and she was taking out Maggie’s stitches!
Why weren’t Mama or Ellie stopping her? And though she could tell both of them were occupied elsewhere and unable to see what was happening, Maggie knew they would be happy someone was repairing her rotten work. Tears sprang to her eyes.
She hated to cry, and she hated herself for it and the weakness it indicated. But she couldn’t help herself. She’d tried so hard to do her best work. And to have Mrs. Stoddard be the one to note and fix her work was the worst kind of insult. At least no one had seen her return from the privy, so she spun around and quickly headed to the barn. She wished she could have instead gone to the house and locked herself in her room with a book, but to do so she’d have to walk right by the women. There’d be little to do in the barn, but it was her only safe retreat.
She spent the rest of the afternoon there, alternately crying and fuming over the fact that no one came looking for her. They hadn’t even noticed she was gone!
She brushed down the horses and doled out hay. Several of the guests’ horses were housed in the barn, so fussing over them kept her busy and helped divert some of her dismay. The horses also presented amiable sounding boards for the venting of her ire.
“The nerve of that woman ripping out my work!” she told the family saddle horse, Buster. “Without even asking me! I hate that woman!” she declared, then suddenly realized the full implication of her words. If she wanted Colby, he came with a mother. If she won Colby, that woman would be her mother-in-law! Maggie groaned.
“Buster, be thankful you are a horse. It simply stinks to be a girl thinking about marriage. But the hard fact is, I’ll have to go through her to get to Colby. He’s not really a mama’s boy, but everyone in his mama’s life is under her thumb. He may try to fight it, but that is still the cold, hard fact.”
Maggie plopped down on a mound of hay. “Oh, what’s the use! I think I’ll just be an old maid like Iris Fergus. Maybe I’ll go to the big city and work in an office.” She had visited an office in Portland once with her father and had been impressed by the female secretaries in their starched, white, high-collared blouses and trim dark skirts, sitting with refined postures at their desks and primly typing. Maybe that’s what she would be good at, typing on those fascinating machines. How quickly those ladies’ fingers flew over the keys, just like—Maggie grimaced—just like the quilters’ fingers flew in their stitching.
Okay, so that might not be for her. She couldn’t stand wearing a starched white blouse, either. Though it scandalized her mother, Maggie usually wore her brother’s overalls, except for church and other special occasions. She was wearing them now, having slipped past her mother’s scrutiny.
There had to be something out there to give meaning to Maggie’s life. Mama promised!
Only when Maggie began to hear male voices outside did she realize just how long she had been hiding in the barn. It must be close to suppertime if the men were beginning to arrive. Glancing up at the loft opening, she saw the afternoon sunlight had dimmed, and it was pushing on toward evening. Now someone would come looking for her because they would need help getting supper on. That’s all she was good for—slave labor.
TWO
“There you are, Maggie!” Mama exclaimed the moment Maggie came into view. “It’s time for supper.”
Maggie looked around. The quilt frames had been taken down, replaced by tables—well, actually boards set over sawhorses. They were covered with tablecloths and lined with benches Mama had borrowed from the school. The ladies had been joined by several men. There were at least thirty folks in the yard now. The men were standing in knots talking to one another. No doubt they had done the heavy work of removing the quilt frames and setting up the tables. The women were busy carrying out food and dishes and all that was needed for supper. No wonder no one had looked for Maggie. They hadn’t needed her labor—for a change.
Maggie also noted that the girls her age had been busy doing something else. They must have brought clothes to change into for dancing, because now they were dressed in pretty party frocks. All the girls, with the exception of Sarah Stoddard, were decked out in their finest. The husband hunting never seemed to end. Even Ellie had on her pretty yellow-and-blue sundress, but that was for Zack. Sarah had worn a dress to the quilting, just a drab everyday dress. She was not interested in finding a husband, though, more likely, she was scared stiff at the prospect and was trying her hardest to remain invisible. Maggie envied her.
At this moment Maggie was painfully aware of her own garb. She was in her usual overalls and shirt. Mama had argued with her that morning about wearing something more “presentable” because they were having company. Maggie said she’d change before the ladies arrived but kept putting it off until Mama was so busy she either didn’t notice or didn’t have time to argue further. Now Maggie regretted her stubbornness. If she had changed, at least now she would have had on a decent everyday dress.
Well, it wasn’t too late. Glancing quickly around, she noted Colby hadn’t arrived yet. She started toward the house.
“Where are you going?” Mama asked.
“I’m going to change.”
“But we are about to start supper.”
“I’ll just be a minute.”
Mama looked on the verge of giving Maggie a much deserved “I told you so.” Then she paused, sighed, and said, “All right. We’ll wait for you.”
Maggie realized that would be worse than being the only girl in overalls—having everyone waiting on her! She’d have to make some grand entrance with everyone seeing she’d made a desperate bid to make up for her earlier bad taste. And they would know, at least Mabel, Iris, and Mrs. Stoddard would know, she had changed for the benefit of the young men, placing her in league with the husband hunters.
She gave a shrug. She was who she was, and if they didn’t like that, she didn’t care.
“Never mind, Mama,” she said. “Let’s just eat.”
“There’s time,” Mama said. “And you’ll want a dress on for the dancing later, won’t you?”
“Do I need a dress, Mama?” she snapped angrily. “You think that will help me?” Her voice shook, and she felt tears sting her eyes once again. Fortunately she and Mama were standing apart from the crowd, so she hoped no one heard her outburst. With an embarrassed scowl, Maggie added, “I’m not hungry anyway, and I’ve got a stomachache. I’m just going to go to my room to lie down—”
“Oh no, you are not!” Mama’s former gentleness turned suddenly to steel. “You are not going to ruin Ellie’s day by acting like a child. You will join us for supper and the party afterward. You can do so in overalls or a dress, but you will be sitting at a table in ten minutes. That is that!”
Maggie could feel herself pouting, even though she knew her mother was right. What was wrong with her?
“And you will smile!” Mama added.
Maggie wanted to retort in protest, but it wouldn’t help. She thought if she ran into the house and up to her room, Mama might let her go rather than cause a scene in front of company. But it would still ruin Ellie’s party, not to mention that it would make Maggie look worse than ever.
So plastering a smile on her face, she turned, went to a table, and plopped down on a bench. It was just for show because, as the daughter of the hostess, she couldn’t be the first to sit. She waited until her mother got busy with something else, then rose and went to the kitchen to help with the food. As it turned out, she could have changed her clothes—it was fifteen or twenty minutes before the meal was actually ser
ved—but she didn’t, probably out of sheer orneriness, as her dad would say. Let them accept her as she was or not at all.
She wavered in this resolve when Colby showed up. She had wondered if he would come to what might be construed as an “old folks” gathering. But he rode in with three other Main-town eligible bachelors—Elisha Cook, Able Jenkins, and Stew Weatherby. They must have heard there would be unattached women present and decided it would be worth a visit.
Of the four young men, Colby stood out for his remarkable good looks. In Maggie’s estimation, he was practically perfect. The fact that he was twenty and still single was merely because he’d had eyes only for Ellie for so long. Most everyone assumed they would marry eventually. How did he feel about being spurned for another man? He didn’t look brokenhearted. He was laughing with his companions as they dismounted and tied their horses at the watering trough. Maybe he was hiding his feelings; maybe he was just relieved not to have to make a marriage commitment.
Maggie had always thought it was a terrible state of things that at nineteen or twenty a girl was considered an old maid if she wasn’t married. But a man could wait as long as he wanted. A man never had to face the shame of being an old maid. It wasn’t fair.
Maggie had always said she didn’t care about such things, but in truth she wasn’t as much against marriage as she often preached. Mama said that once she loved a man, she would understand the beauty of marriage and the joy of companionship it offered. And when she loved a man, she would find much pleasure in bearing his children and loving them, as well. That’s what Maggie wanted, what she hoped for.
Since supper was served almost immediately after the young men’s arrival and Ellie and Zack wanted Maggie to sit with them, she didn’t have a chance to say much to Colby. But the other girls certainly made up for her absence. With the eligible new preacher out of the picture, and with Ellie taken by that same ex-preacher, Colby was now fair game, and the girls wasted no time. They flocked to him like vultures on carrion. The other young men also received a good share of the attention. Even Mabel was still flirting, and rumor had it she had a new beau who lived in Astoria!
“Would you rather sit at the other table, sis?” Ellie asked, obviously noting Maggie’s gaze wandering in that direction.
“Good heavens, no!” Maggie replied. “I’m just feeling a little sorry for those poor young fellows. At least when you were available, Zack, they could breathe some.”
Zack laughed. “They don’t look like they are suffering much.”
“Well, anyway,” said Maggie, “I’ve had quite enough of all that. The last thing I want to do right now is throw myself at a man.”
Zack gave her a more careful appraisal.
“Don’t worry, Zack. Like I told you before, you didn’t break my heart. I didn’t really want you, and I meant it. I like you much better as a friend and soon-to-be brother-in-law.”
“Just so you know, you are the prettiest girl I ever turned down,” Zack said with a grin.
“And just how many girls have you turned down?” Ellie asked with playful indignation.
“A few,” Zack replied evasively. “But it is only the one I didn’t turn down that matters!”
Smiling, Ellie linked her arm around Zack’s and snuggled close to him. She seemed not at all aware of the discomfort that gesture caused Maggie. Maybe she was a bit jealous, not of Zack, but of what he and Ellie had together.
By the time dessert was served, Maggie had decided that she was her own worst enemy. She was stubborn and childish. And, as her mother always said, a pouty face isn’t pretty. She ate a few bites of cake, rose from her seat, and quietly slipped into the house, determined to rectify the situation.
When she stepped back into the yard fifteen minutes later, not only had her attitude changed but so had her appearance. She usually needed Ellie’s help getting dressed up, so she knew she didn’t look perfect. But neither was she unsightly. Her light green dress, which was her second-best dress, had a skirt that was fuller than the current fashion, and was ideal for dancing. The demurely scooped neckline was trimmed in ecru lace as were the short puffed sleeves. She had tied a burgundy ribbon around the fitted waist and a matching ribbon in her hair. She had left her brown curls loose except for the sides, which she tied at the back of her head with the bow. She’d pinched her cheeks good and hard to give them roses, wishing Mama would let her wear a touch of rouge like Mabel Parker sometimes did. Wearing the gold locket that Dad had given her for Christmas a couple years ago, she thought she looked quite fetching indeed.
Her stomach flipped a bit when she reentered the party. She feared everyone would notice her and think her silly for going to such trouble. It was quite natural for the other girls to don party dresses, but she knew she would stand out like a pig in a parade. However, it was too late now. To her surprise and relief, all heads didn’t turn toward her, and mouths didn’t gape with astonishment at her transformation. Unlike some girls, she didn’t care to be noticed . . . well, not much anyway.
The sun had set, making way for a lovely summer evening. Lanterns strung around the yard gave a warm, inviting light to the festivities. The tables had been cleared and pushed aside, though one table remained, laden with Mama’s good punch bowl and all the desserts Mama and the other ladies had made. Lewis Arlington, with his guitar, and Clyde and Kurt Lambert—father and son—with their fiddles were playing a lively turn. All the young people were lining up for a reel. Maggie realized that in her absence most appeared to have already paired up. Colby was with Mabel.
Feeling a sudden wave of shyness, Maggie contented herself with standing on the sidelines, tapping her foot and clapping her hands in rhythm to the music. She didn’t want to be noticed too much, but she wouldn’t have dressed up if she hadn’t wanted to attract some attention. Even if Colby didn’t notice her, surely one of the other boys would! It didn’t help that all were already taken.
When the reel was over, the dancers stopped, out of breath and laughing. Zack came up to Maggie. He was breathing hard after dancing with Ellie.
He held out his hand gallantly. “Do me the honor of the next dance, Maggie.”
Maggie’s eyes shot quickly to Ellie standing a short distance away.
Ellie smiled and nodded. “I need a rest. Zack can dance nonstop all night if you let him.”
Maggie knew it was a pity invitation, but she accepted anyway. It was better than feeling foolish just standing there, and she had noticed her mother saying something to Georgie. Dancing a pity dance with Zack would be better than dancing with her little brother!
She quickly got over her self-consciousness as she became caught up in the dance. She began to laugh and enjoy herself. Then, when she took Zack’s hand and progressed down the line of dancers, she was relaxed and almost her old self again.
When the dance ended she was out of breath but smiling a real smile. She had barely thanked Zack when Stew Weatherby came up to her.
“Do you want some punch, Maggie?” he asked.
Surprised but suddenly aware that she was parched after the exertion, she nodded. He hurried away to the refreshment table.
Then Colby was there.
“Hi’ya, Maggie,” he said with his usual winning grin. “You sure do clean up pretty!”
“Thanks, Colby.” Her stomach fluttered, and her cheeks grew warm. He had noticed her!
“Why, I’d say you’re the prettiest girl here.”
She gave his arm a playful shove. “Oh, go on with you!”
“I would not lie about such a thing.”
Just then Stew returned with two cups of punch. Taking one, Maggie gulped down half—a pretty dress and a ribbon in her hair couldn’t completely refine her manners! But instead of worrying about that, she was noting a bit of a scowl on Stew’s face as he glanced at Colby. Stew was a nice fellow, two or three years older than Maggie. He had blond hair that seemed to always fall into his blue eyes. He was nice looking, or would have been if he were standing alone, bu
t in close proximity to Colby, he looked plain indeed.
“Maggie, would—?” Stew started.
Colby cut in. “I’ve just asked Maggie to dance. Hold this, Stew.” He thrust the cup Maggie had been holding into the hapless fellow’s hand, then grabbed Maggie’s hand and tugged her—though she didn’t resist—back to the dancing area.
Were two men competing for her? And was one of them actually Colby? It must be true, since here she was dancing with him. But he didn’t monopolize her for every dance. Stew finally asserted himself, and she danced with him and then with a couple of others. But Colby got her back for the last dance, a waltz, the only waltz of the evening because some of the older folks were old-fashioned and thought this pairing off of dance partners was scandalous. But Mama and Dad never saw the harm since the partners didn’t hold each other any closer than in a reel, though, of course, it was sustained for much longer. Mama thought it was a beautiful dance anyway and enjoyed watching it.
Ellie, who had learned to waltz at her finishing school, had taught the dance to her sister. But Maggie had never danced the waltz with a male partner before. She thought it was more than mere coincidence that her first real waltz should be with Colby. It must be a sign of things to come.
As they glided over the straw-covered ground, she felt his gaze upon her, and when she lifted her eyes and squarely met that gaze, he smiled with a warmth to melt her heart. There seemed to be a sincerity in his expression that she had seldom seen in him. Was he seeing her as if for the first time? And liking what he saw? Were all her dreams going to be realized sooner than she had ever thought possible?
Had she known all it would take was donning a frilly party dress and a ribbon in her hair, she would have done it much sooner.
The evening almost ended on this splendid note. Then Mrs. Stoddard made her presence known. Maggie was standing near Ellie with their parents, bidding the guests good-bye. Mrs. Stod-dard made a beeline right to Ellie, not only completely ignoring Maggie, but practically shouldering her out of the way.
