Vow Unbroken

by Caryl McAdoo

  “Yes, Ma.” The young woman’s staring was downright embarrassing. The object of her foolishness flashed a dazzling smile every now and again. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, Sue guessed. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Well, he shouldn’t encourage the girl like that. But then, maybe, that’s exactly what this stop was all about. After all, he obviously knew the family well. Lizbeth squeezed by her pa and blatantly brushed Henry on her way to the well.

  For no reason, Sue’s breath caught in her throat, and her face suddenly burned.

  “Now come on in and rest a spell. It’s been ages since I had another woman to visit with.” Martha turned and ducked back into the shadows of the house.

  Sue glanced over at Henry. Why hadn’t she noticed how blue his eyes were before? She followed the older woman inside, leaving her hired man to be tempted by the wiles of that shameless girl. Made her uncomfortable for some reason, but it would have been rude not to accept the invitation inside.

  He opened the door for Lizbeth on her return. She sloshed water from a wooden pail, grinning up at him her whole way through the door. “Thank you, Henry.”

  Oh, dear, did she bat her lashes? Did sparkles twinkle in the girl’s eyes, or was Sue only seeing things?

  Lizbeth poured two cups of water, handing one to her mother and the other to Sue, who gulped it down without a breath. A drop escaped and ran down her chin. She wiped it, closed her eyes, and smiled. “Thank you so much. That’s the sweetest water I’ve drank in a long time.”

  Martha adjusted the baby and opened her blouse. As the little one latched on, she threw an apron corner over its head and laughed. “Oh, you’s probably extra thirsty like my sweet little Maggie here. I’ll get her fed, then we’ll see to dinner for all the rest.”

  The daughter refilled Sue’s cup, then sat the bucket in the washtub. She skedaddled back out without another word. Martha chatted on about the heat, her goats, baby Maggie, and the Methodist circuit rider who came through last month, but Sue found she had trouble concentrating. Standing to fill her cup again, she peeked out the window.

  The men had the mules unhitched and jawed beside one of the wagons; the children played kick the can with Blue Dog on Becky’s heels, and Lizbeth shadowed Henry like a lovesick puppy.

  “He buried Sister Buckmeyer and baptized my Lizbeth all in the same day. If only she could have lived to see her son saved.”

  Aha! So she was right. “Sister Buckmeyer? So Henry isn’t saved?”

  “I’m afeared not.”

  “I wasn’t sure. I asked, and he sounded a bit angry at God over his mother’s suffering, but he never did give me an answer really.”

  “His mother sure prayed hard enough, but— Oh well, there’s still time yet, I suppose. I always wondered—”

  “Excuse me, Martha, I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need to tell Henry something real quick. Be back directly.”

  “Oh sure, you go ahead.” She gestured at little Maggie. “Baby girl’s asleep. I’ll go put her down, and we can start dinner.”

  Sue hurried out and trotted toward the wagons. She walked straight up to Henry, blocking the younger woman’s access. She spoke in a low tone meant only for him. “Mister Buckmeyer, I thought I made myself clear.”

  “About what?”

  “Not unhitching those mules.”

  “Did you?” He leaned over, almost touching her ear with his lips. “I don’t mean any disrespect, ma’am, and I am not trying to usurp your authority, but either these animals rest, or they’re goners, and we’ll never get your cotton to Jefferson.”

  She stood there, blood boiling under the blazing sun. Unfamiliar butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She wiped her forehead on her sleeve and bought herself a few extra seconds to settle the blood and the butterflies. “Is it ever going to be cool again?”

  Making a spectacle would only serve to embarrass her—and him as well. The animals were already unhitched, so she caved and nodded. “Fine, we’ll stay, but not for long. Please tell me now that you do not plan on spending the night here.”

  He smiled. “I’m not planning on spending the night here.” He raised one eyebrow. “But it wouldn’t be a bad idea either.”

  “Mister Buckmeyer.”

  He held his hands up. “Only joshing. An hour, two at most.”

  She didn’t smile. “One hour. Were you going to graze them, too?”

  He gave her one nod and an aggravated expression. “Figured to after I grain ’em.”

  “Fine then. I’ll help get dinner ready.” She turned to her nephew. “Would you please fetch the flour sack Aunt Elaine sent along? We don’t want to be a burden to the Aikins.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sue turned toward the house and hollered without looking back. “Give it to Miss Lizbeth to bring in, Levi.”

  The young woman protested. “But, but—”

  Sue kept walking. “We’ll get dinner ready, sweetie. Your mama’s caring for the baby.”

  Many stories and hearty laughs later, Sue settled on the shaded quilt in the yard with her plate in her lap. Becky squatted cross-legged beside her. Blue Dog came onto the pallet and tried to lie by her daughter, but she shooed him off. The eldest Aikin daughter hovered, obviously waiting for Henry to sit so she could position herself as close as possible to him.

  The sought-after man sauntered up, laughing with the girl’s daddy. “Sue, William here had an extra set of hobbles and a few other things we might need. Told him we’d settle up before we leave—if that suits you.”

  “And I told your man if you agreed, I’d gladly take a bolt of good cloth for these gals of mine to make some purty new dresses. If you was of a mind to be obliged for the shopping, that is. I figure you’d be a good un to pick something out they’d really like. Purty hard for Mama to get away, and I ain’t much good at it.” He laughed and took a place in the grass just off the pallet and smiled at his wife. “That suit you, Martha mine?”

  She grinned and looked like she might blush. After handing him the plate she’d piled high with pork ribs, corn on the cob, purple hull peas, carrots, and corn bread, she stroked his cheek. “You’re too good to me, my darlin’ dear.”

  They were so cute, even after being together all those years. Sue wondered: had Andy lived . . . ? No. That train of thought served no good purpose. Pointless dreaming about how things might have been. She hurried back to the present.

  “It would be my pleasure if that will cover the cost of everything, Mister Aikin. Maybe I should pick out two?” She turned to her new friend. “What color do you cotton to, Martha?”

  “Well, I’ve always been a mite partial to blue, and it draws out my girls’ sky blue eyes.”

  “I’m fond of purples, most all shades,” Lizbeth offered. “You like purple, Henry?”

  He shrugged. “Well enough.”

  Another one of the girls frowned. “Well, red’s my favorite.”

  And the one who’d taken up with Becky, she looked to be about five or six, swatted at her sister. “Yellow’s best.” She faced Sue, nodding. “Get yellow, bright, shiny, happy yellow.” She giggled.

  Sue joined her, laughing. “Sounds to me like a rainbow fabric would work to please everyone.” She smiled at Martha. “Perhaps a delicate floral print?”

  “Whatever you find would be perfect, I’m sure.”

  She turned to the man of the house. “All right then, you have yourself a deal. Thank you, sir, I’ll gladly shop for you, but I’m afraid I could never repay you for all your hospitality and the good company of your family. Especially since it looks like we’re about to eat you out of house and home.” She looked back to Martha. “It’s been a true pleasure.”

  “Oh, dear, the pleasure’s all mine. You’re such a blessing.”

  “Blessings all around, I’d say.” Aikin patted Henry’s shoulder and bowed his head. “Lord, thank You for the grub. Help it keep us strong and healthy to do Your will. Amen.”

  Henry finally lighted and took his
hat off, sitting with his back against a tree, and just as Sue figured, the young woman settled next to him where their knees almost touched. Sue tried not to notice but she kept losing Martha’s conversation for paying too much attention to the girl and the man’s reaction to her flirtatious goings-on. Once Lizbeth burst out laughing at something he must have said and slapped his bicep.

  It seemed she just had to keep touching him. Sue glanced at Martha, who appeared oblivious to her daughter’s shameful behavior. Lizbeth got up once to get Henry more ribs, and when she sat back down, she put herself even closer. Sue couldn’t believe it and willed herself to look away. Why should it bother her?

  Only a few minutes passed before Henry’s laughing drew her attention back. He leaned into the young girl leaning into him. He caught Sue looking at him, and held her eye too long before she was able to glance away. He cleared his throat, and, in her peripheral vision, she saw him sit back fully against the tree again.

  A short time later, not a morsel remained, but it didn’t matter because Sue couldn’t take one more bite even if she wanted. While she had insisted on including their tucker, Martha proved equally insistent on throwing their own part into the midday feast. The hilarious yarns spun and sweet fellowship offered lifted her spirits more than she could ever have imagined.

  Even Lizbeth’s outrageous flirting failed to spoil the day, although Sue thought Henry certainly might have egged her on a little less. But maybe he liked her. That might be the biggest reason he wanted to spend so much time there. Maybe he considered her a prospect for marryin’—even if he was almost old enough to be her father. What difference could it possibly make to her?

  Sue shook her head and brought herself back to the day. Any attraction Henry Buckmeyer had to the young woman shouldn’t bother her in the least, but for some reason, it made her feel a bit old and tired all of a sudden. Comfortable, though; she was quite comfortable, even in her britches.

  She rose. “I hate to bring this wonderful time to an end, I do, and I truly look forward to when we can visit again, but we’re burning daylight, and we really should be getting back on the trace.”

  Martha jumped up, came over, and hugged her tight. “Absolutely. I don’t want you to lift a finger with these dishes either. Just do whatever you need to get back on the road.”

  “No, no. I didn’t mean— I’ll help.”

  “Won’t hear it.” Martha looked at Henry, who stood. “Now you fellows get those mules hitched up so y’all can get back on your way.”

  “Come on, Henry, ain’t no reason to argue with her.” William handed his empty plate to Lizbeth.

  She held her hand out for Henry’s, too. “It was so good to see you, Henry. Hope you’ll come back through once Mis’ess Baylor’s cotton is delivered.”

  Levi and the two oldest Aikin boys jumped up as well and headed for the barn.

  Henry tipped his hat to Lizbeth before putting it back on. “Can’t never get enough of good people and good food.” He held Lizbeth’s eye. “I’ll be back, but some handsome young man will probably have you wed in no time.” He grinned at Sue, then Martha. “You and William have a fine family, ma’am. Thank you for all your hospitality.” He turned and went after the boys.

  The girl started to follow, but her mama spoke up. “Lizbeth, gather up these dishes now and get ’em to the kitchen while I say my good-bye to my neighbor and new friend.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  The woman then turned to Sue. “Want you to know I’ll be remembering you in prayer every day until you come again.”

  “Why, thank you, Martha. Can’t ever have too many prayers going up. And I’ll surely be back, as I have some fabric to deliver.” She winked at the six-year-old.

  It pleased her that no one objected to leaving, and that in no time the men and boys had hitched the mules and her cotton was back on the trail. The midday rest seemed to have revived the mules; it looked like they pulled the load with less strain. Perhaps that the terrain steadily fell toward the Sulphur bottoms helped. Whatever the reason, the pace elated Sue.

  The second hour, when her turn came to walk, she fell back to speak with Henry. “Aren’t we moving along at a much better clip? Won’t we make Cuthand today at this rate?”

  He nodded. “I figure upwards to a mile and a half, maybe two an hour, but I still plan to stop and make camp in the next hour or so. We’ll put into Cuthand midmorning tomorrow.”

  “What? Why? Why would you think of quitting so early when we’re making such good time?”

  “We’ll have almost eleven miles behind us for the day, and that’s a good mark. It’ll be best to make camp this side of the trading post.”

  She stared up at him, but he never looked down.

  Who did he think he was? “Mister Buckmeyer, I’d count it a privilege to know why you think that you’re the one making all the decisions around here.” He looked down, but didn’t say a word. “Why is it that you act like you’re king of the world or something when I’m the one paying your wages?”

  He looked hurt and a bit shocked, then his eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. He appeared to steam, and she had no doubt he held his tongue for what seemed like an hour, though it was most likely only seconds. When he finally spoke, it was forced. “I apologize if I’ve offended you.”

  Without another word, she stopped in her tracks and let his wagon pull ahead. It was like the time when she was six years old and Daddy caught her playing with her mother’s face powder. Foolish and stupid and wrong! But Henry wasn’t supposed to be making the decisions. She was the boss, so how did he do it?

  The cotton belonged to her, and this trip—her trip—was all about taking her crop to market. She’d hired him to help, not take over. She clearly remembered saying she needed help.

  The more she dwelt on his blatant egotism, the more her face burned with anger. Or was it shame? The earlier peace had slipped easily away, replaced by a desire to slap Mister Patrick Henry Buckmeyer right across his arrogant face.

  By the time he hollered “Ho” to the mules, she was the one steaming and fit to be tied.

  Had she been driving the front wagon, she never would have stopped it until dark. Then Mister High-and-Mighty would have had to keep going and keep up. Why hadn’t she thought of that and relieved Levi when the self-appointed czar first said something? Royalty, indeed! Did he think he was in Russia?

  And why did she always come up with the good ideas when it was too late to put them into motion? Stopping after barely more than two more hours on the trail! Ridiculous!

  “Levi, you get the mules hobbled, I’ll start a fire for supper.” Henry began scouting for wood. “Hey, Rebecca, you and Blue Dog can help me gather some kindling.” He noticed her coming around the corner. “If that’s fine with your mother.”

  And still he gives orders! Well! At least he didn’t bark any chores at her. She fumed inside. Men! Why did they automatically think that everything had to be done their way? Did they not think a woman ever had an intelligent thought?

  Did he not realize that she had plowed her field, planted the seed, chopped the cotton until her blisters had blisters, then helped to pick it in a timely manner, see to it that it got ginned and baled, then loaded into her wagons? Who did he think had carried it to the Sulphur Fork Trading Post, where she supposedly already had a buyer? She clenched both her fists.

  She went to the back of the wagon and laid her forehead against it. Pictures flashed across her mind’s eye of the lovely Miss Lizbeth and Henry laughing together. “Oh, stop it, Sue Baylor.” She took deep breaths. “Help me, Lord. Help me.”

  She remained there until her heartbeat slowed and her face cooled. Who wanted to start a big argument on their first day? And after such a sweet time at the Aikins’. There was a long trip ahead. Why had she said anything at all?

  Men. She was certainly glad she lived by herself and took care of her own business without the constant rule of a man.

  She went to the larder and fished
out the cornmeal and fatback, grabbed her Dutch oven, then made her way to where Henry nursed the fire. A pot already hung from a limb held over it by a sturdy forked branch on either side. He looked up.

  She pointed to her pot. “What’s that?”

  “Beans. Shouldn’t take too long. Already soaked ’em overnight at the Dawsons’.”

  “Well, of course you did.” She busied herself making corn bread, then sat the oven on the coals and scooted a couple of bigger ones onto the lid. “Mister Buckmeyer?”

  He looked up from stirring the beans.

  “I do not intend to be at odds with you the whole way.” She took a deep breath and shook her head slowly. “Eleven miles a day is unacceptable. We’ll never catch our neighbors, my friends, stopping midafternoon for two-hour dinners or making camp hours before sundown.”

  He shrugged. “With only five mules, we’ll do good to make eight or nine mile tomorrow.”

  She studied his face. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

  “Second day’s likely to be their worst, ma’am.”

  “I don’t understand why you would say that. The mules did fine today. We should’ve kept going! We could’ve easily made Cuthand.”

  “You ever been to the Cuthand Trading Post at night?”

  “No, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

  He glanced over to where Becky and Blue Dog played chase the stick, then sighed. “I have. Trust me. You don’t want to be anywhere near that place after dark.”

  She wanted to protest, make him understand that she had to get her cotton to Jefferson, but her aversion to exposing the children to a den of iniquity stopped her short. One more time, he was right. But why couldn’t he just have told her that the first time he said he wanted to stop early?

  “Fine, but tomorrow we have to pick up the pace. It’s absolutely imperative that I get my cotton to market before the buyers leave.”

  He nodded, then glanced again at the little girl and his dog. He loved simple, and Widow Baylor was anything but. What a contrast she was, so beautiful, yet so hardheaded—downright stubborn to a fault. He looked back and stared into her eyes; she met his gaze.