by Vivi Holt
“I think I’ve got it now.” She tried again and this time the udder released a short burst of liquid. “I did it! Did you see that? I did it! I can milk a cow!” Christy beamed and she tried again. “I’m doing it!”
Brent chuckled and released his grip on her hands. She continued the movement, concentrating hard, but after a few minutes she leaned back against Brent and stopped. “I don’t think I can do any more. My hands are cramping.”
“I think you’ll get the hang of it. You’re a natural.” He reached up and stroked her face, and she suddenly became very aware of how close they were, his legs on either side of her and his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She turned her head toward his with a half-smile playing on her lips.
“Christy …” She saw his eyes turn dark and he leaned toward her, his lips finding hers. The sweetness of the kiss made her shiver and she melted into his embrace, her head spinning.
Suddenly, something scratchy and damp hit her hard in the back of the head. She cried out in surprise and slipped from the stool onto the dirty barn floor with a thud. She looked up at Brent with wide eyes, wondering what on Earth had happened.
He burst out laughing, and tears soon streaked down his cheeks.
“What is so funny?” she demanded, standing to her feet and dusting her skirts.
“It was her tail … she got you in the head with her tail. I’m sorry, Christy, truly I am …” He attempted to hold in his laughter but couldn’t, and soon the two of them were doubled over together.
“Excuse me, folks? Sounds to me like you’re having a mite too much fun in here for common decency.”
The man’s voice made them both spin around to face the open barn door. Then Brent smiled. “Clive! Good to see you.” He walked over to the man and shook his hand.
Clive’s eyes sparkled and he grinned at Christy. “You must be the new little lady.” He went over, holding out his hand.
Christy curtsied quickly and took it. “Yes, I’m Christy Hancock … I mean, Christy Taylor. Sorry, it’s still so new – I haven’t introduced myself as Mrs. Taylor to anyone before now.”
“Pleased to meet you. Name’s Clive Harris – Kip’s pa.”
“Oh, of course. Kip is such a lovely boy. I’ve so enjoyed getting to know him.”
“Well, I hope you folks don’t mind, but we’ve come over to get acquainted with the new missus and help out around here a bit.”
“We?” asked Christy, looking out the barn door – and gasping when she saw three wagons full of people in the driveway.
Clive walked out to them, and Brent and Christy followed. “This is my wife, Emily and my children – you know Kip,” Clive began. “Over there are the Hattons – Joe and Henny and their younguns. And yonder are Ed and Mary Connelly with baby Edward. We’re your nearest neighbors.”
“Pleased to meet all of you.” Christy curtsied and nodded to the group.
The Harrises, Hattons and Connellys bundled from the wagons and milled around her asking questions, giving compliments and marveling over her red curls. Before long, the women had dragged her inside and the men had disappeared back into the barn together.
Mary Connelly was the biggest talker, with a trace of an Irish brogue not dissimilar from Christy’s. “I told Ed, that poor woman is stuck in that run-down house over there. We have to go and help her clean it up. It’s a travesty the way Brent let it go over the past few months. Though now that I see it, it’s not so run-down after all. I love what you’ve done with the place, dearie!”
“Not to mention what you’ve done for his poor broken heart,” chimed in Henny. The women all nodded and tut-tutted together.
“But if there’s any way we can help, we’d love to,” added Emily.
“You’re all too kind,” responded Christy.
“Not at all, not at all,” Mary insisted. “You just tell us if we’re overstepping, but I think we should start in that garden. What do you think?”
“That sounds fine,” said Christy. “I’ve been picking away at it, but I know I have a long way to go.”
They bustled Christy out the front door, where she saw the children had carried buckets, shovels, stakes, and seedling plants in clay pots from the wagon beds and laid them out beside the garden. The women and older children began weeding the rows, replanting the seedlings, and staking and trimming back the tomato and pumpkin vines and bean runners. The younger children hauled away the cut vegetable matter and occasional rocks.
After an hour, they had a garden of freshly turned, dark, moist earth and straight rows of seeds and plants. “That would have taken me forever to do on my own,” said Christy, overcome with the kindness of her new neighbors.
“You’re welcome,” said a smiling Henny. “That’s what neighbors are for ‘round these parts.”
“It’s not how things were in Philadelphia, that’s for sure.”
“Welcome to the frontier,” Emily said with a chuckle. She folded her hands in front of her dress, her eyes full of concern. “Brent told us you lost your parents, is that right?”
“Yes,” Christy whispered. She still had trouble talking about it, the pain was too fresh.
“I’m sorry to hear that. But Brent is a wonderful man and between him and us, you’re not alone in the world, don’t you worry.”
Christy wiped away a tear that slipped from her eyes unbidden. “Thank you.”
“Now then, let’s tackle the inside of the house,” said Emily, wiping her hands on her gardening apron.
Christy glanced around and saw the men and boys scattered around the ranch – fixing broken fence palings, scrubbing the outside of the house. One older boy was nailing down loose floorboards on the verandah.
Inside, the women and girls got back to work – polishing, mending, sorting through the unpacked boxes in one of the unused rooms. The men came in as well once they’d finished outside, and began fixing anything broken. By the end of the day, the house looked like new and Christy found herself choking on unshed tears as she thanked the exhausted party. They clambered into their wagons and left with arms waving, calling out heartfelt goodbyes.
17
Brent tapped his pipe out on the ashtray and puffed one last breath of smoke into the still night. The wooden horse in his hands was almost finished, and he snapped closed his whittling knife and slid it into his pants pocket. Christy had retired for the evening. It had been a long October day of weeding and preparing for harvest, and his body ached from it. Livestock is so much easier, he thought as he stood and stretched.
The lowing of the cattle in the yard by the barn – he’d agreed to buy the cow, which Christy had named Bo for some reason – filled the silence, and contentment settled over his spirit. It felt good to have Christy in the house. She’d made a hearty casserole for supper, and apple cobbler with apples from the big old tree on the edge of the garden for dessert. It had been a good day.
He walked inside and locked the door. Turning down the lanterns in the living room and kitchen, he stopped to stare down the hall at Christy’s closed bedroom door. Although they were officially married, they still hadn’t slept in the same room, and he wondered when they might take that next step. The longing inside him seemed to grow every day, but he didn’t want to push her. If she wasn’t ready, he’d wait … but for how long? Likely until the three months they’d agreed to were over, which was sensible. If that was the case, it would only be a few more weeks.
It was hard to believe she’d been there for over two months already. The time had flown by, and already he couldn’t imagine being here without her. The thought that she might still decide to move back to Topeka – or Philadelphia – made his heart clench with fear. The house would be so quiet and lonely without her. He couldn’t go back to living like that again.
A piece of paper on the dining table caught his attention. He picked it up to read by the moonlight coming through the kitchen window. It looked like a letter from a law firm in Philadelphia, addressed to Christy – something ab
out her inheritance from a Mr. Hancock (her father?) being challenged. It stated that the case was expected to be resolved within the next month. It was dated a few weeks earlier.
Brent felt guilt wash over him. He shouldn’t have read it – and if he’d known it was a private letter to Christy, he wouldn’t have. But now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t help feeling curious. Was she due an inheritance from her parents? She hadn’t mentioned one. If that were the case, perhaps she was only staying with him until it came through and she’d be able to take care of herself.
He’d gotten the sense that Christy was warming to him and the idea of living with him at the ranch. At first, he’d been concerned she’d never be able to adjust to country life, but she’d adapted quickly and even seemed to be enjoying it. She had certainly made fast friendships with the other farmers’ wives, especially Emily Harris. But what if she was just biding her time until her inheritance came through and she was able to afford a ticket elsewhere? She’d mentioned when she first arrived that she couldn’t manage a train ticket back to Pennsylvania. Maybe that’s all she was waiting for.
Brent walked to one of the otherwise empty bedrooms, where he’d finally set up a cot, and sat on it to remove his boots. He set his hat on a nearby box and lay back on top of the blankets, still dressed. God, I don’t want her to leave, he prayed. I don’t want to live without her. I can’t go back to being all alone out here. She doesn’t know how I feel about her. Help me to show her.
Christy woke with a start. A noise had wakened her. She listened for it in case it came again.
There it was – a knock at her door. “Christy!” Brent called quietly through it.
“Yes.”
“Did you still wish to go to church with me this morning?”
“Oh, that’s right. Yes, I do.”
“Well, we’ll need to leave in about a half-hour.”
“Thank you.” Christy pushed back the covers and climbed from the still-warm bed. The chill of the dark morning air made her want to snuggle back in, but she forced herself to get up, light a lantern and wash and dress quickly. When she opened the curtains, she could see the sun rising over the prairie behind the barn, bringing the birds out to carol and twitter in the yard. She joined Brent in the kitchen for a quick breakfast of hot coffee and bread. While she cleaned up, he hurried outside to hitch Patty to the wagon.
Christy was excited to see the church. They hadn’t attended since she’d been there, since Brent had wanted her to settle in before introducing her around Newton. She was anxious to meet more people and reacquaint herself with the whirl of society. But Brent seemed quieter than usual as they rode, so she took the time to enjoy the beautiful scenery. And the proximity – she rarely got the chance to sit so close to Brent. His tall frame dwarfed hers, and she felt safe beside him.
The church building was a small white chapel on a hill outside the town. As they drew close, she could see wagons and buggies winding up the long driveway and parking on the hillside around the building. Their wagon soon joined the throng.
They pulled to a halt beside the chapel and Brent climbed down, offering her his arm. She’d worn her best green muslin gown with the thin black cross-hatch pattern, and a matching green-and-black hat. Her red hair was piled on top of her head and spilled out in ringlets. Brent smiled up at her as she descended, a gleam of approval in his blue eyes. She waited patiently while Brent tended to his horse, then they walked into the church together.
“Christy, Brent, hello!” called Emily, hurrying toward them with her blonde curls bouncing. “So glad you two made it. Come and sit with Clive and me.” She led the way and they found Clive, Kip and the other children in a pew near the front of the church.
The service was enjoyable and Christy found herself reveling in being around people again, even those she didn’t know. She’d never been as isolated from society as she was living on the ranch, and was glad there were other women here she could relate to. Emily introduced her around, and she was happy to see Henny and Mary there as well.
This place was becoming more of a home to her than Philadelphia could be with her parents gone. She knew her feelings for Brent had grown in the time she’d spent there and that she didn’t want to leave him. But did he feel the same way? She looked at him, seated beside her, his rugged good looks sending a thrill through her. He turned to smile at her, and she felt her cheeks flush.
After the service closed, people stood up to mill around and fellowship. “Clive and Emily asked if we’d like to have lunch at their ranch,” Brent told her. “What do you think?”
“That sounds lovely. Only I didn’t bring anything …”
“Oh, that’s all right – Emily said we didn’t need to.”
“How kind.”
“Shall I tell them yes?”
“Yes, please do.”
Brent walked over to speak with Clive while Christy surveyed the room. It was only a small group, but they all seemed to know each other well. While she waited, several more women came by to introduce themselves and make her feel welcome.
He soon returned and helped Christy into the wagon. “What did you think of it?” he asked once they were on their way.
“I enjoyed it. The message was lively and the people are very friendly. I’m looking forward to getting to know them all.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’d hoped we might be able to attend every week, weather permitting.”
“That sounds fine.” She looped her hand through Brent’s arm and leaned against his shoulder. He grinned at her and clicked his tongue at Patty.
Christy didn’t know what her future might hold, but in that moment she was filled with deep contentment. And Brent’s plan for attending church – he’d said “we,” as if planning on having her around. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? She closed her eyes and listened to Patty’s hoofbeats and the turning of the wagon wheels along the dusty track.
18
“I thought we might go into town today.”
“Oh?” Christy took a bite of her oatmeal and chewed thoughtfully. She’d only been into Newton once if one didn’t count church – and that was the day she’d arrived. That had all been such a blur, she didn’t have much chance to see the sights. She’d like to see it now that she’d settled in. And it was a beautiful Saturday morning.
“There’s a dance at the meeting hall this afternoon. I thought you might like to go.” Brent bit into a thick slice of fresh bread and chewed thoughtfully as he watched her face for a reaction.
Her eyes grew wide and she clapped her hands together in glee. “A dance! Yes, please. I’d love to go to a dance. Will Emily, Henny and Mary be there?”
“I’d imagine so. We don’t have too many dances around here. Also, I’ve got a few errands to run in town, and you could take a look around the mercantile to see if there’s anything you need. What do you say?”
Christy squealed in response and jumped up to lean across the table and kiss Brent on the forehead. He laughed and pulled her down for a kiss on the mouth, upsetting her oatmeal in the process.
“Oh dear, what a mess,” said Christy, pulling away to hurry into the kitchen for a damp cloth. She felt the heat rising to her face. A dance – she hadn’t attended a dance since the New Year’s Ball in Philadelphia. And she knew just which dress she could wear. She couldn’t wait.
As she came back with the cloth, a thought struck her. “Do we have to bring anything?” She knew that married women usually brought food to community events.
“I suppose so. Not really sure, myself.”
“Well, I baked that raisin cake last night, so that should do well enough. Oh, how exciting! I’d better go and get ready – I assume we’ll be leaving soon?”
“Soon as we can,” Brent agreed. He left to prepare the horse and wagon.
Christy quickly cleaned up the breakfast things and packed up the cake, some lunch and other items they might need for the day. Then she went into the bedroom and changed into a forest-gree
n velvet dress with lace around the collars and cuffs, and a matching hat and parasol. She smoothed her hair back into a neat chignon and hurried outside to meet Brent, ready to enjoy her day on the town.
Newton was a small, dusty town, and on this Saturday a bustling one. Christy surveyed the main street – almost the only street – as they went trotting down it in their open wagon. There were a few stores on either side with swinging signs advertising their wares, a smithy, the sheriff’s office, a school, and a long saloon with a brightly painted sign right in the middle. Not bad for a town that hadn’t even existed six months before.
As they passed the saloon, Christy was horrified to see men with scantily-clad women leaning out of open windows, their drunken laughter and shouts echoing throughout the town. “Is it always like this?” she asked.
“What? Do you mean the saloon? Well, I suppose.”
Christy sniffed and tightened her mouth.
“Hello, Brent! Hi there, honey!” a brunette called from one of the windows, her long braid hanging over one exposed shoulder.
“Oh, uh … hello, Prissy.” Brent ducked his head in embarrassment.
“You know her?” asked Christy.
“Not really, no. I went in there a couple of times when I first got here, just to be around people, and she was serving drinks. But I haven’t been in since you arrived. Um …”
Christy wasn’t sure what to think. Brent did come to town on his own about once a week. Maybe he was going to the saloon to see Prissy – or do more than just see her. She shook her head in disbelief. After all they’d been through together, with how they were drawing closer to each other every day, surely he wouldn’t do that. But it reminded her once again that there was much she didn’t know about her new husband.
Smith’s Mercantile was a cluttered mess – products of various types scattered in bunches and piles in a seemingly random fashion throughout the floor space. Christy and Brent entered through the front door and a bell rang softly overhead to announce their arrival.
