“Oh yes, fill your plate, Holly, and Nolan,” Polly said now that she turned away from visiting with someone.
“Ladies first,” Nolan handed Holly a plate from the stack at the end of the table, and then picked up another one for himself.
“Anything to avoid?” Nolan leaned close to Holly to ask.
Holly quickly turned around to stare at him but understood the meaning of his quiet question seeing his smirk. She turned back to the table laden with bowls and platters of food and quickly glanced at the food. Holly would know who brought what since she helped put the food on the table.
“Beans in the white bowl, pickles in the first jar,” she said under her breath. Nolan liked her quiet warning.
“Thank you,” he whispered before raising his voice. “All this looks delicious, so I’ll have to go through the line twice to try everything.” He nodded to the line of women watching him.
Nolan’s hand paused over each dish before reaching spoons or forks to scoop a portion on his plate. He’d been to enough church potluck dinners to know what to do to make all the cooks happy. Nolan had swallowed his fill of bad food while smiling, too.
Nolan chuckled at a memory. He’d been about eleven or twelve, standing at the end of the dessert line with his friends at the summer picnic after church. Mrs. Reagan appeared, looked each of the boys in the eye, and quietly said. “You boys take a slice of that cake which hadn’t been touched, and you will enjoy it, every bite. And you will thank the baker...sometime today, not all of you at once...that you appreciated her making it.”
Old Mrs. Jimston might have been a good baker at one time, but her white cake was deflated, lop-sided, and skimpy on the frosting. They dutifully took a slice each—except Mack Reagan who always took two of everything—and ate every bite. Already knowing how to bake, Nolan knew she’d forgotten to put in the baking powder, and then baked it too long, making the whole cake dry to the point of tasting burnt.
And the frosting was made with sugar, butter, and unfortunately, curdled milk.
But Nolan did go over to Mrs. Jimston later and had a good visit with her. She played the piano in the church until her eyesight and arthritis made her give it up. Mrs. Jimston probably knew what Mrs. Reagan had done, but never said anything, just enjoyed the attention the boys had given her that day. After that day, Nolan made a point of always saying hello to her in the church until she passed.
“Shall I sit with you, or do you want to sit with the ladies? I assume everyone will divide up like they do at most potlucks?” Nolan asked as they walked away from the serving table.
“You’ve been to a few community functions in your day, haven’t you?” Holly teased.
“Yep, and there is a protocol to follow.”
“Then you better go talk to the men.” Holly turned toward the table where Myrtle was already seated and walked that direction.
Nolan enjoyed the next couple of hours of visiting the Miller Springs community. It seemed like a tight-knit community and one he might have been tempted to settle into if not for the fact he needed to go home.
People finally started saying their farewells, gathering their dishes and heading for their homes. Nolan dreaded the news Sheriff Matters was waiting to tell Myrtle, but at least he was able to wait until the company was gone. It was sure to be the talk in church next week, but the women were spared the gossip today.
He noticed Holly starting upstairs and stopped her.
“Can I help you get something?”
“I was just going upstairs to get our wraps. We need to go outside to the necessary.”
“I laid them on the settee,” Nolan said before stepping back, hoping that’s the only room she’d go in for now. He hoped he’d straightened up Holly’s room back to normal, but he wasn’t sure.
Nolan took the wraps from her when she descended the stairs and helped Holly on with hers. “I’ll walk out with you to be sure Myrtle gets safely there and back. Don’t want her to fall again before she leaves.” And he wanted to be with them when they saw the outside door when they walked back to the café.
“What happened, Nolan?” Holly asked as he ushered them back into the café after a few minutes outside.
“Sheriff Matters will explain what he knows.”
“I’m sorry, ladies, but I didn’t want to ruin your party. Your apartment was broken into during church, and the robbers left town with a couple of the livery’s horses.”
“Oh, my word! What did they do upstairs?” Myrtle had her hand on her chest as if she was about to have a heart attack.
“Just looked through your clothing trunks. Did you have any money hidden in there or anything else of value?” Nolan assured her.
The women looked at each other. “We talked about this before we went to church, being the two men had been hanging around. We kept all our money and jewelry on us, so they didn’t get anything then.” The sheriff looked relieved at Myrtle’s words. He still had to send word around about the horse thieves, but at least the women’s savings were safe.
“Holly, one of your portraits was damaged though, although I hope we can repair it,” Nolan hated to give her the news, but he didn’t want her to open the trunk and find them as they were.
“They were on the bottom of the trunk!”
“Your trunk had been dumped and the intruders...ripped a photograph in half. I put everything back in the trunk, so you need to repack it and see if anything else is missing.”
“My violin!”
“Luckily it was with you today,” Nolan laid his hand on her forearm to calm her down.
Holly shut her eyes and took a deep breath, then looked up at him with teary eyes. “Yes, it was safe today— because of you,” and awkwardly moved to hug his chest. Nolan wrapped his arms around her and gladly enjoyed her warmth until she pulled away. What would it feel like to have her hug him every day? He was starting to sense he’d like that.
“Nolan will stay with you tonight in case you need anything. I’ll be over here in the morning to help get your trunks to the depot. Good afternoon, ladies, Nolan.” They watched the sheriff walk out the door, leaving him with the upset women.
“Um, I’ll clean up the dining room and kitchen while you go upstairs.” He knew the women would go through everything they packed, checking to see if anything was missing.
“Whenever you want leftovers for supper, please come downstairs.”
“Nolan, about the walk to the cemetery…” Holly reminded him about Myrtle’s request to walk to her husband’s grave.
“Oh, we don’t have to...” although Nolan knew Myrtle would regret it later if she didn’t see Fred’s gave before leaving town.
“That’s right. I promised, Myrtle, so we will do it. After I clean up in the café, I’ll go shovel a path to where Holly pointed to the stone. I need some exercise after eating that good meal anyway. It won’t take long to shovel the path, and by then you’ll be ready to walk over.
“Anything else you want to do before we leave tomorrow?”
“The back door lock?” Myrtle was thinking of the damaged doorframe that must be fixed.
“Just minor damage the sheriff said he’ll take care of later. Just be sure to give Sheriff Matters the key to the front door before we leave town tomorrow.”
Nolan watched Holly walk behind Myrtle up the stairs, patiently guiding her up the stairs. He’d be glad when they arrived in Billings tomorrow. The older woman needed her daughter’s help and attention.
And what did Holly need? About everything, and why was Nolan wishing he could be the one to provide it for her?
Chapter 7
Holly tried to discretely wipe the tears, which kept streaking down her face. But Nolan still noticed them. His worried face showed he felt bad for her, but didn’t know what to do about it.
She had bit her lip constantly as they helped Myrtle to the depot and into a seat on the train this morning. The woman cried saying goodbye yesterday to her friends, and then about her late husba
nd as they walked to the grave and back. Holly could hear Myrtle crying on and off all night, but she didn’t change her mind this morning to stay.
Myrtle walked around the apartment and café this morning, touching and reminiscing, talking to herself as much as to her and Nolan. Her tears started again when Myrtle personally locked the front door of the café for the last time and didn’t stop as she hugged the sheriff and depot agent goodbye.
At least exhaustion and the swaying of the train car had lulled Myrtle into a nap. She’d be in a better state of mind, looking forward to seeing her family this afternoon when she awoke.
Holly didn’t feel like she should feel emotionally attached to Miller Springs since she’d only lived there a year. But the town, especially the café, was where she’d mourned the loss of her father and learned to live alone. Well not alone since she was with Myrtle. Now she’d be living alone in Billings, although she hoped she’d be welcome to visit Myrtle in her daughter’s home.
She dabbed her checks again, wishing she’d run out of tears. What was wrong with her? She had some savings due to the generosity of Nolan and the biscuit contest. Sheriff Matters had even pressed a double eagle in her hand when she was about to board the train, so she wasn’t destitute, yet. She had no idea how large Billings was, but surely, she could find a job in a café or a washhouse. The only problem was her looks. Most places didn’t hire a woman who looked like she should be living on the reservation instead of among white folk.
“What’s your favorite Christmas carol? Holly?”
Holly looked across at Nolan, realizing he must have asked her something, but she was caught in her misery and hadn’t heard him.
She had been looking out the window, watching the white scenery go by. The train would travel through a wooded area, then across an open area before going through snow-covered pines again. She’d kept her cloak around her because of the cold seeping through the window against her shoulder, and trying to ignore the world around her.
He pointed to the end of the car, and she turned around to see a mother and two young children singing “Jingle Bells.” She’d been lost in her own world and hadn’t heard them.
“What’s your favorite Christmas carol?” Nolan asked again when she turned around.
“It has always been ‘Silent Night.’”
“I love to sing them all, but ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’ has always been my favorite. It might have been the first one I learned for our Christmas pageant in church back in Missouri. I barely remember having a cedar tree set up in our parlor, just for a few days, probably the twenty-fourth through the twenty-sixth or seventh.”
“And when you moved to Kansas?”
“No room in the dugout, but we started the tradition again once we had a house in Clear Creek.
“Did you celebrate Christmas since your mother was Cheyenne?”
Holly shut her eyes thinking back to when she was little. Their army quarters were small, so they didn’t have a tree, but there was one in the mess hall.
“There was a party in the mess hall each year, but I remember my mother talking more about the Winter Solstice than the birth of Jesus.”
“I hadn’t thought of it now, but I assume you speak the Cheyenne language, too?”
She nodded, knowing the language because of her parents, but she hadn’t said a word aloud in years.
“My father also spoke German. I loved when he sang ‘Silent Night’ in German.” That’s when she accompanied him on the violin, and probably why it was her favorite Christmas melody.
“Soldiers sang Christmas carols during the whole month of December, whether as a solo while being the sentinel at the fort gate or in the mess hall. Everyone was missing home and family, and singing favorite tunes made them feel a part of the celebrations at home,” Nolan reminisced.
“That’s how it was when we lived on the forts, too.”
“And we would have both been singing in ‘79 at that party in Fort Ellis.” Nolan cocked his head while smiling at her. He looked different in his new vest and trousers while sitting on the train. He’d laid his cavalry overcoat and hat on the bench beside him so that reminded her of the fort life they’d both experienced.
“I assume you can play all the Christmas carols on your violin?”
“Yes. I learned the tunes when I was young.” The last Christmas carol her father played was “It Came upon a Midnight Clear” when the miners were together for Christmas. Could she play it this year in memory of him without weeping? She knew she couldn’t, especially since she’d be alone this Christmas.
“Maybe you can attend the same church as Myrtle’s family and play there,” Nolan suggested.
Holly wiped her face again with her handkerchief. Her tears had stopped when talking about Christmas songs, but they filled her eyes again thinking of being alone this year.
“When was the last year you were with your family for Christmas, Nolan?” She wanted to pull the attention away from herself, and she knew Nolan loved to talk.
“Daisy and I were both home three years ago. It was strange coming back as adults after being out on our own, but slipping back into practically acting like kids again. We expected Grandma to have made fudge and divinity like she did every Christmas when we were growing up.”
“And did she?” Holly could imagine Nolan as a young boy snitching fudge from a plate when his elders weren’t looking.
“Of course! She’d heard the train whistle blowing announcing the train’s arrival, and met us at the door with a plate of sweets,” Nolan chuckled and shook his head. “How I’ve missed her.”
“You’re lucky to have a family,” Holly probably sounded like she felt sorry for herself, but now she was jealous.
“Do you have any family in Pennsylvania or Kansas that you know of?” Nolan leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, staring intently at her.
“I may have distant cousins in Pennsylvania, but Father never corresponded with anyone. My mother talked about her brothers and sister, but I’m not sure where they are now.”
“The Cheyennes moved down to the Oklahoma Territory, south of Kansas. Probably only a day’s train ride from my home.”
What would it be like to see her aunt after all these years? Would she look like her mother? If she were a full-bloodied Cheyenne staying with the tribe, she would be living on a reservation now.
“Would it be possible to track my Cheyenne relatives?”
“I don’t know, but I can find out when I’m home and write back to you if you’d like.”
“Next stop Billings!” The conductor called out as he walked down the aisle, causing Myrtle to awaken.
“Are we here? Already?”
“You slept most of the time, Myrtle. I think you were tired after all the packing and visiting you did the last few days.” Nolan smiled at the older woman. He treated all women with respect and a smile. Why couldn’t all men be like him?
“Nolan, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for us this week. I realize you’ll continue on after this stop, but I hope you can step off to meet my family.”
“I’d like to meet them. The conductor said we’ll be here for an hour.” Everyone turned to look out the window as the train’s brakes slowed the cars to a stop. The engineer had already blown the whistle when it was approaching Billings, so people were starting to gather on the train platform.
“There they are! They got your telegram, Nolan! There are my grandchildren!” Myrtle’s ample bosom was pressed against Holly as she leaned toward the window to wave at her family.
Holly saw the moment Myrtle’s daughter saw her mother and waved back in excitement. What would it feel like to see family again? Tears filled her eyes again.
“Ladies, it’s time to get off. You go on down the aisle, and I’ll get the things from the overhead shelf.”
Holly fastened her cape, straightened her hat, and pulled on her gloves before following Myrtle to the stairs. She glanced back to be sure Nolan was b
ehind them. Within the hour, he’d be back on this train and out of her life, and she’d be looking for a way to survive again.
“Delia! I’m here!” Myrtle was waving at the top of the car steps before the conductor helped her down to the ground. Holly watched the reunion before following. Her daughter, son-in-law, with a bundled baby in his arms, and two young children, a boy, and a girl, instantly surrounded Myrtle.
This time Myrtle’s tears were for joy. Why hadn’t she moved here sooner? Myrtle had the family she could have been living with instead of running a café practically by herself.
Holly felt when Nolan came to stand behind her, shielding her from the wind. She looked over her shoulder, surprised to see a sad, melancholy smile on his face.
“What’s wrong, Nolan?”
“I guess I hate to leave you here by yourself. I’ve gotten used to being with you.” Was it the cold or his embarrassing words that caused his cheeks to turn red? Either way, she liked his concern.
“Delia and George, I’d like you to meet Holly Brandt who worked for me, and Nolan Clancy who helped us in the café this last week and escorted us to Billings. He’s on his way to Kansas.”
“I’m George Cline. Nice to meet you,” George said as they shook hands.
“We need to get you out of the cold, Mama. Let’s go to the depot to wait while George loads your trunks into the wagon.”
“How many trunks do you have for me to pick up, Mother Randolph?” George asked as they walked toward the depot.
“I have four—I brought dishes and linens for you—and Holly has one trunk.”
“I’ll help you find their trunks since I know what they look like,” Nolan said as he started to walk with Myrtle’s son-in-law.
“Miss Brandt is stopping in Billings, too? Where do we drop off her trunk?” George stopped to ask Myrtle instead of herself.
Holly froze as Myrtle looked at her daughter and son-in-law. “She’ll be staying with us, of course. She doesn’t have anywhere else to go since I closed the café and left her homeless.”
The looks Delia and George exchanged told Holly she wouldn’t be staying with them as Myrtle planned.
Nolan's Vow (Grooms with Honor Book 8) Page 8
