“He’s moved in already and rebuilding the barn. I know he’s been looking for a place. Guess he found one. Probably for the best. Nobody there to work it anyway.” The heavyset man dropped his knife against the plate edge.
Her legs trembled. Pete was trying to steal the farm. Her nervous stomach tumbled. The air thinned.
While she struggled to take a breath, Penny pushed past her. “What’s burning?”
Smoke billowed from the kitchen. A fire. Not again. The room spun. She grasped and found nothing to keep her from hitting the floor.
The rumble of wheels came down the lane. It didn’t sound like Roy’s wagon. The wheels weren’t squeaking. Too light for a delivery wagon. Pete stepped away from the barn to look.
Dr. Pickens pulled up with Katie on the bench next to him, her face the color of ash.
Pete ran to the carriage. “What happened? Is she all right?”
“Too much excitement at the diner. There was a fire and Katie passed out. Stew Rutherford caught her before she hit the floor.”
With great care, Pete lifted Katie from the carriage and held her in his arms.
“You smell nice.” She rested her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t think so, but thank you anyways.”
“Take her inside and put her to bed. I gave her a dose of laudanum to calm her down,” Dr. Pickens said. “She was crying and shrieking. I don’t think she ought to be working there. It’s too much for her. I admire her for trying, but there’s always a chance of a fire in the kitchen. Her father wouldn’t approve.”
“Maybe not, but she’s trying hard to make the farm work. I’m proud of her, given she has trouble talking to people. Yet she hasn’t once complained.” He shifted her in his arms, causing her eyes to open wide. “Shh. It’s okay. I’m taking you inside, and your grandmother will take care of you.”
She reached up and stroked his cheek.
Dr. Pickens coughed. “Best get her inside to her grandmother before she does something you’ll both regret.”
“Thank you for bringing her home. You’d be welcome, if you care to stay.”
“I’m on my way to Alma’s, but maybe next time.”
Pete propped pillows around Katie’s head and stepped back from the couch. “Time for you to take a nap. I bet you’ll have some sweet dreams.”
“I’m dreaming of what it would be like to have you kiss me.” Her head fell back. Her eyes closed. A tiny snore escaped from her nose, making him smile. Someday he was going to kiss the tip of that perfect nose.
“Oma, what am I to do? I don’t want to sell the farm.” Katie held her head between her hands. The stabbing pain didn’t want to let up.
“Drink tea. The more you do, the better you’ll feel. About this other matter, I do not know.” Oma patted Katie’s arm. “God does and He has a plan. You’ll see.”
A knock on the door sent lightening through her head. “Come in, but quietly, please.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to see how you were feeling this morning.” Pete held his hat in his hand.
He was so tall, and she remembered thinking how comforting it was to lay her head on his shoulder. She felt her face flush. Was he thinking about that, too? “I’ll be fine. Though I don’t know what I’ll do to pay you.” She stood, her chair screeching against the pine floor. “Are you planning on buying this farm? I heard that yesterday, and I want to know now if you’re here to help or hurt us.”
Pete looked at the floor then back at her, with the softest brown eyes she’d ever seen. “No. I’m looking for a place of my own, that’s true, but this is Henry’s farm.”
“So you’re leaving as soon as we get the barn built and the crops harvested?”
Henry popped through the door. “You can’t leave. You promised to help me with the—”
“And I will, Henry. I can’t stay here. You’re the—”
“Help him with what?” Katie crossed the kitchen floor and poked Pete in the chest. “What are you teaching him that you don’t want me to know about?”
“Uhm, nothing. Girls, maybe.” Pete’s face turned red. He tugged on his ear. “I promised I’d show him how to ask a girl out. Henry, are you watching?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Miss Tucker, would you please go with me to the Fourth of July fireworks?”
“That’s it? You just say her name? What if she says no?”
“Ah, but Henry, what if she says—”
“Yes, Mr. Dent. I’d enjoy being escorted to the big doings at the park.”
Pete winked at Henry. “That’s how it’s done. Now let’s get back to putting the barn together.”
Katie had a feeling she’d been left out of something else. But she didn’t care. Her headache had flown away. She had a fellow. A mighty fine one at that.
CHAPTER 9
Sweaty and hot, Katie pushed her sleeves to her elbows and walked through a grove of trees, trying to follow a bee. At a distance. She’d seen one fly this way and knew from reading they often built hives in trunk hollows. If she could locate at least one hive, maybe with Henry’s help they could harvest and sell the honey. It was going for a good price, and like she’d told Papa, it was a good investment.
Still, they were bees and they stung. She slowed her search. If she wasn’t willing to be stung, why did she want her brother to be? She sniffled. Something about this time of year made her head hurt and nose twitch. She sneezed. Fearing a headache, she turned back to the house. She’d search another day.
This afternoon she’d rather be deciding what to wear to the Fourth of July celebration than looking for bees.
She wanted to wear the blue taffeta dress. Papa bought it for her when he’d traveled to St. Louis to visit Doc Pickens in April, when he was there studying. She’d yet to wear it, not finding an occasion worthy of the way it made her feel. Beautiful, tall, and almost courageous.
Silly. Courage comes from God, not a dress. But maybe He used it to show her? Sometimes when she tried to figure out what God was all about, she came away more confused than when she started. But Papa always said, Go back to the beginning and what you know.
She knew God loved her, that He sent His Son to die for her sins, and He wanted His children to be happy. Well the dress made her happy, so it must have come from God. Pete made her happy, too—she wanted to stretch her arms wide and turn like a five year old until she could no longer stand up. But she was much too old for that behavior and, besides, her head was beginning to hurt.
Bassler Park dressed with kerosene lamps made the night feel like a fairy tale, and she a princess. The wavy light highlighted the golden tones in Pete’s brown eyes. Would he be her first kiss? Katie didn’t know what to do with the feelings piling up inside, like logs in a dam. Pete held on to her elbow as if it were treasure. The night air was soft, not too sticky. The fireworks popped, cracked, and sizzled; lighting up the sky with their sparks. At first the smoky smell and bright light twisted her stomach enough to make her feel faint. Then the beauty of it struck Katie. Papa would want her to enjoy this, and to enjoy Pete. He’d be happy she’d caught someone’s eye. Probably relieved that she might not end up alone after all.
Soon the sky exploded with the bright zigzagging streams of fireworks and then grew dark.
“Did you like it?” Pete squeezed her hand. “The smoke didn’t bother you, did it? I should have considered that it might.”
“I enjoyed it, very much.” His consideration of her feelings increased her desire to love him.
“Katie, we need to find Henry and get back.”
And then she turned back into the farm girl who lived in Trenton. “Isn’t he supposed to meet us at the buggy when the fireworks ended?”
“He might not think it’s over until he and his friends inspect for those that didn’t go off.”
“Henry’s not like that. You’ll see. He’ll be there.” He’d better be there. She’d hate for Pete to think Henry would be disrespectful.
They strolled up
the sparsely lit path, passing the brewery. From the shadows, a man stepped in front of them.
Katie gasped then settled when she recognized W.D.
“Miss Tucker, when am I gettin’ paid?” W.D. stood, arms crossed, blocking the path.
Katie sought Pete’s arm.
“You know the deal, W.D. You get money later. Right now you get a place to sleep and food to eat.”
“Says you, Dent. I bet you’re getting paid in other ways. How’s those lips of hers? Soft as a—”
Pete lunged forward. “Don’t talk about her like that. Have you been drinking?”
“What if I am?”
“I’m not fighting a drunk.” He stepped away. “Find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Tomorrow come and get your things. You’re done at the Tucker place.”
“I’m sorry, Katie. I shouldn’t have fought with him at all.” Pete helped her into the carriage.
Henry came panting up to them. “I heard there was a fight and Pete walloped W.D. Why’d you do that? Sure wish I hadn’t of missed that. That’s more exciting than looking for dead fireworks.”
“You were supposed to come here after they ended.” Katie glanced at Pete. “It seems tonight no one is who I thought they were.” She pulled the hem of her dress close to her feet. “Get in, Henry, and be careful not to step—”
“On your most beautiful dress ever—that you’ve been saving for the perfect time. I know.” Henry climbed in.
Pete let that information sink in. She’d worn her best for him. Something loosened in his heart. Was God really listening to his prayers?
CHAPTER 10
After Pete had seen Katie and Henry home, and taken care of the horse and buggy, he couldn’t help but stare at the empty bunk where W.D. should be. Anger surged through him as he remembered the hateful words the man had shouted at Katie. He had better not show up here tonight, or Pete would finish what was started.
He yanked off his boots and tossed them on the floor at the foot of his bed. God had judged people when they were wrong, so why feel bad about his own indignation? Feeling righteous, he picked up his Bible and scooted close to the lamp.
Reading Judges would prove him right. He opened the book, intending to head straight there. Instead his hand stilled at Ephesians, Chapter four. He wanted to keep turning but feeling a push to read, he did so. “Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath.” The sun wasn’t even out when he ran into W.D. Did it mean he could go to sleep without worry?
He read further: “Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice: And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.”
No way he was going to sleep easy with those holy words running through his brain. He set the Bible on his bunk. Unease poked his shoulder. A walk, and a talk, with God was in order. He put on his shoes and grabbed the lamp. He might as well check on the bees while he was conversing.
Katie sat on Oma’s bed, tracking the tiny stitching of the Dresden Plate quilt with her finger while her grandmother brushed her hair. Something she hadn’t done in a long time. Tonight she longed for a mother, but grandmother was the closest she’d ever have. Did she experience the same kind of fluttery feelings when grandfather courted her? She wanted to ask but didn’t know if that would make Oma sad.
The brush pulled against Katie’s tangled, wavy locks. Maybe she shouldn’t have pinned it so well, but it was the only way she could get it under her hat.
“The singing was nice enough at the picnic, but nothing like the time they put on the opera.”
“The Pinafore? I can only imagine what that must have been like. I wish I could’ve seen it, Oma.” The performance had been given by locals talented enough that the older people still talked about it with great enthusiasm every time a concert was held at the park.
“The Trenton Brass Band was as good.” Oma stopped brushing. “What’s the matter, Schatzi? You not have a good time tonight?”
Katie whipped around and faced her grandmother. “It was—I can’t find the words! The lights in the park were like jewels, and being with Pete made me. . . .”
“Lit a fire in you, did he?” Sparkles danced in Oma’s eyes. “I knew he was a good man. Patient with you, not worried about your nervousness. I’ve been praying for God to send a man like him for you. I knew your father wasn’t right.”
“What are you saying?”
“He loved you, remember that. But he didn’t think you’d ever find a husband, with your condition. That’s why he wanted to make sure the bees were a success. If you could make the honey business work, he knew you’d be able to do anything you set your mind on. It was hard on him when you were so afraid. He was praying for God to send a man who could see past the skittishness.”
“And you think that’s Pete?”
“Would he make you happy?”
Katie wanted to say no, but the way her lips were stretching past the normal corners of her mouth would give her away.
“Good. Then we will pray Mr. Dent asks you to be his wife.” Oma wasted no time. Her head bent, hands folded, she began her plea to her Lord.
Should he have brought the smoker with him? Pete considered going back, but he didn’t plan on getting close to the hives. It was a destination, more than anything. He’d not go close. Besides, he had a nudge or a shove between his shoulder blades urging him to turn back and head to town. It had to be from God because the last thing he wanted to do was talk with W.D., especially if he had continued drinking.
Sticks broke underfoot. Something skittered off the path in front of him. He hadn’t brought his gun. Foolish mistake to come out after dark with it. Coyotes and other night critters—what was that?
He stood stone still. Buzzing. Loud buzzing. Buzzing that shouldn’t be coming his way this time of night. From the sound there had to be more than one bee headed right at him.
He turned to run.
The bees followed.
He held the light to his face, hoping the flame would scare them. It heightened their anger. As he ran he twisted the knob, extinguishing the light. But he couldn’t put out the fire on his skin.
He dropped the lantern and ran for the creek while slapping at his shirt trying to kill the bees that found a way into it. He bit back a yell as another one found his skin. It came out as a whimper. Wading into the water, the mud sucked at his feet and determined bees came at his head. He flopped forward, submerging his head, over and over, until the last bee had either died or returned to the hive.
Soaking, and shaking from the experience, he now understood Katie’s very real fear. He also got God’s message. Once he changed clothes, he’d be headed to town to find W.D.
CHAPTER 11
Pete turned Biscuit down Railroad Street and headed toward White’s Saloon, figuring it to be the most likely place to find W.D. Every movement on the horse made his chest ache. He wanted to be back on his cot, soaking the painful areas with baking soda, but he wasn’t about to argue with God. At least, he wasn’t taking a chance that God wasn’t the one sending him on the hunt for W. D.
He liked riding through town at night. Sometimes a curtain hadn’t been closed and the light inside gave him a peek of what he wanted his life to look like. A father hugging a little child, or a head bowed in prayer. He had quite a bit saved and wanted to ask Katie to marry him; but what would they do about the farm? It was Henry’s of course, but he was too young to leave alone with it.
The noise coming from inside White’s Saloon meant the celebration continued. He slowed Biscuit and whispered a prayer that he wouldn’t find W. D. inside and, if he did, the man would be reasonable about coming outside for a conversation. What that would be about, he wasn’t sure. He’d depend on God for those words. He tied Biscuit to the hitching post and went inside.
The kerosene lights turned the smoke-filled room into a thick yellow cloud. Glass mugs clinked against
the bar top, laughter thundered from the corner. Pete walked past tables until he found W. D. alone, hat resting next to an empty mug and spilled beer.
Pete slid the heavy wooden chair out and sat in front of W.D. “I came to talk.”
“Not interested.” He didn’t look up.
If only it were easy and he could say, “Me either.” But his heart felt heavy, and he couldn’t up and leave. “Truce? Let’s go outside and watch for the train, maybe talk instead of using fists?”
W.D. cocked his head. “Watch for the train? That brings back an old memory. Why not?” He picked up his hat and shoved it on.
The two of them stepped outside and found a quieter spot on the porch. Both of them leaned over and anchored their hands to the banister. Pete knew he held on, unsure of what he’d say. W.D. probably held on to steady himself or keep from swinging at him.
“Why’d you come looking for me? You don’t seem like someone to search out a fight.”
“I’m not. Just something I felt I needed to do. Let’s start over, you and me. Why don’t you tell me what W.D. stands for?” Somewhat relieved at coming up with an easy question, he let go of the banister.
“William Dentice. Dentice was my last name before I was adopted.”
Pete no longer noticed the bee stings. He couldn’t feel anything. He’d been searching for his brother for years, and now he was standing next to him.
In bed, Katie rolled one way, then the other. Her nightdress crawled past her hip and cinched her waist. She tugged it back in place.
The loan date circled in red was fast approaching, and the only money coming in came from the chickens. If they had another cow they could sell the milk. But they didn’t.
Maybe she could nail up a notice, offering to take in ironing. But then she’d be taking money away from the widow with seven kids.
If she could find a hive, there had to be honey. She could sell it and the wax quick enough to make a payment to the bank. But she had to face her fears. Did she know enough about beekeeping? She knew a lot from reading the book, like the bee that came after her on the porch the day Pete saved her was a worker bee. She sat up and scratched at a mosquito bite. The crickets sang outside her window. Had Papa bought the smoker and netted hat, too? Maybe even enough hives to build an apiary?
The 12 Brides Of Summer (Novella Collection Book 4) Page 9
