by Regina Scott
“Huzzah!” one of the boys cheered, and the other children nodded agreement while their parents exchanged glances and smiled.
John smiled at his nieces and nephews, too. “Good news indeed. And do you know that the boy began to heal the exact hour that Jesus spoke to the father?”
All of the children regarded him with wide eyes.
“The Bible calls that a miracle,” John told them, raising his head to look at his family and friends, even as he closed the book. “But sometimes it seems as if the only miracles are in the Bible. We look around us and just see everyday life, nothing special. But you know what I see when I look around?”
The children shook their heads, and even Dottie found herself waiting for his answer.
“I notice the wonders of God’s creation,” he told them. “Have you ever seen anything taller than Mount Rainier?”
Again they shook their heads.
“Ever hear anything louder than thunder rolling down the lake?”
One of the boys rubbed his ears as if hearing the rumble even now.
“Ever smell anything sweeter than the honeysuckle Catherine grows along the fence?”
“Mama’s apple pie,” one of them offered.
John smiled. “It smells pretty good, too, I’ll give you that. But I think those are all special, and so are the people God puts in our lives—our family, our friends.”
His gaze met Dottie’s, and warmth spread through her. He had a unique way of looking at the world. She felt as if she’d been groping in the dark for so long, feeling alone. Perhaps the light, and God, had been there all along. Perhaps He had been working on her behalf, bringing her someplace she could make a future.
Perhaps all she had to do was start looking.
* * *
John stepped aside and returned to his seat to let Drew lead them in the concluding prayer. He liked the pattern of their services. Each of the adults took turns at explaining the reading for that week. He’d been part of the rotation since he’d turned eighteen. He remembered how nervous he’d felt the first time, sure he’d stutter or mumble.
Today had been the best he’d ever read.
Though he was used to comments from the children, he’d never been so aware of the members of his audience as he was with Dottie. He noticed when her golden brows drew together. He heard the sigh escape her near the end. Her smile was almost as rewarding as sharing his thoughts on the Word.
Of course, he should probably have skipped ahead rather than read that section about a deathly sick child. He’d seen her clutch Peter close for a moment. And likely every mother and father in the room had felt the same way.
So did he. He’d spelled Drew when little Mary had had pneumonia, walking back and forth across the wooden planks with the feverish girl in his arms, keeping her upright to ease her breathing. He’d ridden hard to Seattle to fetch the medicine Catherine had said would save James’s son Seth from whooping cough. Nothing tore at the heart more than a child in danger.
He glanced at Peter now, where the baby dozed in Dottie’s arms. He seemed a sturdy little fellow, with chubby pink cheeks and bright blue eyes. He grasped a finger with strength. But what would Dottie do if he sickened one night, and there was no one there to help her?
Drew concluded the prayer, and his family and friends rose, began gathering up belongings, children, spouses. James and Simon returned the chairs and benches to their usual places. Tom seemed in no hurry to leave, although Dickie remained hiding in the kitchen. Harry glanced their way.
Beth hurried over. “Stay and visit awhile, Dottie. I know Catherine and Rina would love a chance to hold Peter.” She glanced at John. “I’m sure you could find something else to do while you wait to escort her home.”
Very likely he could. Already James was nodding in his direction as if looking for a private word, and Drew glanced his way, arms full of children, as if hoping John might be amenable to helping.
Dottie drew herself up. “Your brother was very kind to escort Peter and me to church, Beth. I wouldn’t want to keep him from his other plans for the day.”
John couldn’t help his smile. He never minded helping, but it was rather gratifying to have someone consider his plans for once.
Beth had no such thoughts. She waved a hand. “Oh, John won’t mind. Besides, it’s Sunday. Our family only does what’s absolutely necessary on Sunday. It’s supposed to be a day of reflection, of family gatherings.”
“Then I shouldn’t intrude,” Dottie said with a look to John.
“No intrusion,” he assured her. “I’m sure the ladies would love to talk with you.”
Dottie smiled at him. “And you’ll join us, of course.”
With that look in her eye, he refused to be anywhere else.
Beth shook her head, but she suffered him to come over to where his sisters-in-law were gathering at the table. John didn’t realize Harry had followed them until he attempted to slide onto the bench next to Dottie.
Beth held up a finger. “Oh, no, Mr. Yeager. This gathering is for women only.”
“Except John, of course,” Dottie added with a smile John’s way.
Harry laughed, straightening. “I think Miss Beth had the right of it. Enjoy your little get-together, ladies.”
John willed himself not to respond.
Catherine slid in next to Dottie, so John went around to the other side, back to the window, where he could see Dottie. Rina seated herself next to him. Beth sat in Drew’s old chair at the head of the table, and Nora took Ma’s spot at the foot.
Catherine peered over Dottie’s arm at the sleeping Peter.
“Dottie,” Beth began, “have you had encouraging interest from any of the local gentlemen since a certain fellow could not be brought up to snuff?”
John refused to rise to the bait. His sister was being difficult. She had seemed more annoyed than pleased when he’d returned the money she’d given Dottie earlier. Besides, Dottie had entirely too much interest, if the looks being directed her way from across the room were any indication. Tom was still glowering, Harry was watching the table openly and even Dickie had ventured outside the safety of the kitchen to cast a longing glance in Dottie’s direction.
Her back to the men, Dottie merely rocked Peter in her arms. “I’ve had the opportunity to converse with Mr. Yeager, Mr. Convers and Mr. Morgan. They seem honest and conscientious.”
He supposed they were. Across the way, Tom said something to Harry, and Dickie gave him a shove, earning them both a glare from Drew, who was busy shepherding his children out the door.
Rina’s lips thinned, as if she’d seen the display as well. “They have good hearts, but they seem too young to me to settle down as husbands and fathers. Or perhaps I am getting old.”
“Certainly not,” Catherine said. “We’ve simply been married long enough, and know what a marriage takes, that we can spot the characteristics in others. And I quite agree. Drew’s workers, while admirable fellows, are not what you need, Dottie.”
“A shame Scout isn’t here,” Rina said. “He knew how to be a gentleman.”
Their old family friend Scout had grown from a scrawny youth into a fine man, with none of his late father’s unsavory habits.
“A shame he and Levi felt it necessary to seek their fortunes elsewhere,” Catherine agreed.
Nora sighed. “I do miss them.”
“Be that as it may,” Beth said, “we must find a husband for Dottie.”
Dottie kept her gaze on her son. “Or perhaps permanent employment.”
Beth shook her head. “A husband who could provide would be better. Surely we know someone suitable.” She speared John with a look.
He shifted on the bench, finding the seat unaccountably hard. He certainly wasn’t going to suggest a fellow. Neither were his brothers.
James, Drew and Simon were already out the door. Across the room, Tom, Dickie and Harry were studying the floor and the ceiling as if wondering what other trouble they could get into on a Sunday.
“What about the younger Mr. Kellogg?” Nora suggested. “He’s ever so kind.”
Beth made a face. “And far too self-righteous.”
“Rolland Denny,” Rina suggested. “His family is very well connected.”
“But he has a reputation for not wanting to settle down,” Catherine argued.
Beth brightened. “Rupert Hollingsworth. He’s so handsome.”
“Engaged,” Rina reported. “To Caroline Crawford.”
John stiffened. It seemed Caroline had found her man with gumption. Hollingsworth certainly qualified. A recent immigrant from back east, he had immediately ingratiated himself with the Dennys and Borens, earning him a place in county government. His claim to the north, however, languished from lack of care. His family might, as well. Still, knowing Caroline had settled on another man ought to leave him devastated, depressed.
Instead, he felt relieved.
“I know the perfect man,” Nora proclaimed. “Deputy McCormick. He’s—”
“No,” Beth said, face reddening. “Not him.”
Odd. Beth had always been partial to the deputy, who was ten years her senior. Catherine must have been surprised by Beth’s refusal, too, for she peered at her.
“But, Beth, I was under the impression you thought Mr. McCormick the epitome of a gentleman.”
“The best and brightest of mankind, I believe you called him,” Rina added.
“And you sigh every time he rides into the clearing,” Nora reminded her.
Beth sat straighter. “Just trust me on this. I have reason to know that Hart McCormick is not the man we thought him. He will not do for Dottie at all.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Dottie said, glancing around. “But I must keep my own counsel when it comes to marrying. For now, I’m grateful for Nora’s patronage to begin earning my keep.”
Nora beamed at her.
Beth tapped her chin. “I wonder. An advertisement brought you out here. What if we were to put an advertisement in the Seattle paper? ‘Lovely lady with darling infant son seeks proper husband.’ I’d think we’d get quite a few responses.”
Dottie paled. “Oh, I couldn’t.”
“And you shouldn’t,” John told her. “Beth is right—you’d get more than your share of responses, but most of them would be from men you wouldn’t want as a husband.” He glanced at his sisters-in-law. “Don’t you remember what it was like when Mercer brought you to Seattle?”
Catherine, Rina and Nora turned varying shades of pink.
“Mercer?” Dottie asked.
“Asa Mercer, to be exact,” Beth explained. “He realized there were widows and orphans left after the War Between the States, but an even larger number of bachelors on the frontier searching for brides, so he went back east to fetch them some.”
Catherine raised her chin. “He told us that Seattle needed nurses...”
“And teachers,” Rina interjected.
“And seamstresses,” Nora added.
Catherine nodded. “He never mentioned that he’d taken money from lonely bachelors to bring them wives.”
“We were deluged,” Nora confided. “Surrounded the moment we hit the dock.” She sighed as if she remembered that time fondly.
Rina shivered instead. “It was dreadful. I’m simply grateful the bachelors were persuaded to act like gentlemen.”
“For the most part,” Catherine agreed. “So John is quite right that you wouldn’t want to start a fervor like that, Dottie.”
Beth deflated.
“There must be other ways to meet eligible gentlemen,” Nora mused.
“There is!” Beth hopped to her feet. “The May Day picnic! Everyone in town will be there to help build the railway.”
Dottie frowned. “Work on the railway? I’m not sure I’d be suited.”
John snorted. “No one is suited. It’s a ridiculous idea born of vanity.”
“I heard that.” Harry wandered closer once more. If he had been listening to the conversation, he couldn’t like Rina’s assessment of his maturity.
“Mrs. Tyrrell should come to the picnic,” he said now, gaze on Dottie. “It’s a grand civic gesture, and she’s sure to meet people who could help her.”
“A gesture is a good description,” John insisted, turning his look to Dottie. “Seattle was hoping to be the terminus of the Northern Pacific Railway, but Tacoma to the south was selected instead. Our leaders were so angry they decided to build their own railway from Seattle over the Cascade Mountains to the wheat fields in Eastern Washington.”
“To Walla Walla,” Harry confirmed. “All those mining riches, all that produce, pouring into Seattle while Tacoma cries on the tide flats. I call that a worthy cause.”
“Does that mean you’ll be volunteering on May Day, Mr. Yeager?” Dottie asked.
He puffed out his chest. “Yes, ma’am. Me and every other able-bodied man in Seattle. The ladies will cook for us to keep us strong for the work. You can learn a lot about a man by how hard he works.” He cast John a glance.
Once more, John refused to acknowledge the comment. “We’d be better served to put the labor into the church and library.”
Harry waved a hand. “The church and library will still need building. When do you get a chance to be part of history?”
“It does sound like an amazing feat,” Dottie said. She glanced at John. “I’d be willing to help the ladies cook. Will you be working that day, John?”
They were all watching him. His family knew where he stood on the issue. He’d just made it clear to Harry. Building a railroad to spite Tacoma was a fool’s quest.
But those lavender eyes were compelling.
“Certainly, Dottie,” he said. “If you’ll be there, I’ll be there, rain or shine.”
Chapter Twelve
The strangest feeling came over Dottie as she sat at the table talking about things with John and the Wallin women. It took her a moment to recognize the feeling as joy. After all, she still had no real lead on employment other than helping Nora. She wasn’t any too sure about Harry’s, Tom’s and Dickie’s potential as husbands, and the Wallin ladies had ruled out every other eligible man of their acquaintance. But for the first time in a long time, she felt like part of a family.
She didn’t know what they would all do next. They had said the day was for contemplation, so she was surprised when James ushered in an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a grizzled chin. At the sight of the ladies, he yanked off his tweed cap.
“You’re needed, John,” James announced. “And better you than me.”
John cast Dottie a smile before sliding off the bench. “Mr. Blaycock, how can I help?”
The man turned his cap in his hands as if well aware he was imposing. “My anchor’s snarled on the dock again. I told your brother that wasn’t the best place to build the dock. Too many water lilies.” He scowled at James.
James held up a hand. “I can’t stop them from growing. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“It’s just a matter of pulling them up from the roots,” John told them. “If you cut off the stalks, they just grow faster.”
Had he read that in a book? Peter, who had gone willingly to Rina a few moments ago, nodded as if he quite agreed with John’s assessment.
“Well, something’s snagged the anchor chain,” Mr. Blaycock complained. “I can’t mind the boat and fix the anchor at the same time, and my boy’s still too young to help.” He looked around the room as if seeking someone to take his son’s place, and Harry, Tom and Dickie quickly made themselves scarce.
“I’ll help you,” John
said. “It shouldn’t take long. Just give me a moment.”
She thought surely he’d go up the stairs and change out of his suit, but he returned to her side instead. “Will you be all right, Dottie?”
His family and neighbors relied on him, and yet he thought of her first. She didn’t remember anyone treating her that way.
She smiled at him. “I’ll be fine, John. Go where you’re needed.”
His face tightened, as if her words had somehow hurt him, but he nodded and headed for the stairs at last.
Beth slapped her hands down on the table, gaining her everyone’s attention. “Dinner in two hours. I have the venison simmering for stew.”
Nora rose as well. “I still have carrots and turnips.”
“I made an apple cobbler for dessert,” Catherine said.
The need to contribute was strong, yet what could she give? Everything she had John had given her.
“Dottie makes lovely biscuits,” Beth said as if she knew Dottie’s thoughts. “Almost as good as Levi’s.”
The other women sighed, as if that was high praise indeed.
“I’ll be happy to make some,” Dottie told them.
The plan agreed, Rina returned Peter to Dottie, and the women separated for their own homes. Only Beth remained behind, keeping up a steady conversation as she set the main house to rights. Dottie took the opportunity slip away to the rocker and nurse Peter, responding to Beth’s comments on the weather, the Wallins’ plans for the growing community and Beth’s apparent indecision about how best to use her claim. Then the two adjourned to the kitchen to bake the biscuits.
One look at the massive cast-iron stove across the back wall, and Dottie sighed with envy. Even Peter stared at it.
Beth ran a hand along the silver appointments on the upper warming drawers. “Isn’t she a beauty? Drew and John installed her when we opened the house to Drew’s crew. Six burners, two ovens and double warming drawers. I call her Mrs. Heatsworth.” She picked up a spoon and lifted the lid on the large pot on one of the back burners. A tangy scent rose with the steam.
