Before church, upon setting eyes on the beautiful opera singer, Rose had taken an immediate dislike to her, for the woman clung to Andre’s arm, displaying too much lush bosom—especially for a Sunday. Her laughter rang out like bells, eliciting chuckles from Andre.
Even scolding herself for such ill-natured sentiments didn’t do anything except make Rose feel guilty. Deep down in a place she didn’t want to acknowledge, she envied the woman. I’m sure when I become acquainted with Miss Maxwell, I’ll feel differently.
Not quite ready to do so, Rose lingered between two clusters of women, wondering if she should brave the one containing Mrs. Cobb and work on convincing the shopkeeper of the benefits of reading, or instead join the group around Edith Grayson and Maggie Baxter, talking about the fast-approaching Baxter-Livingston wedding.
Before Rose could make up her mind, two women in expensive outfits approached. One was lovely, blonde, and blue-eyed. The other had brown hair and eyes, and plump, plain features. Although she tried, their names slid away from her grasp.
As if reading her mind, the blonde held out a hand. “Don’t even try to remember us, Miss Collier. There are far too many ladies here to keep track of. I’m Elizabeth Sanders, and this is Pamela Carter. Please use our given names, for you’ll find we aren’t very formal in Sweetwater Springs.”
Now Rose’s list came to her rescue. Elizabeth Sanders is the one who married a cowboy younger than herself and has one daughter. Pamela Carter married into one of Sweetwater Spring’s founding families. Both are originally from Boston.
The women’s warm smiles made Rose feel welcomed into their feminine community, and the tightness in her chest loosened. “Then I’m Rose.” She paused, reconsidering. “Except when I’ll be working at the library.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said in a teasing tone. “There you must display a starchy air of dignity.”
They all chuckled.
“If you’re having a hard time remembering everyone, you wouldn’t think too many ladies attending this tea party is a blessing.” Pamela pushed a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “Our social scene has considerably grown since my arrival here in 1883. Women, especially unmarried women, were scarce back then, which is why my husband John traveled to Boston to find a wife.”
Elizabeth’s lips turned up, and she leaned to touch shoulders with her friend. “And why five years ago, I came out to visit my dear friend, not looking for a husband at all, but found myself falling in love with Nick.”
“Men still considerably outnumber women,” Pamela added, glancing over at Cora and Elsie. “Perhaps your niece….”
Thinking of Cora’s attitude toward marriage, Rose almost laughed. “I’m not ready to part with her just yet.”
Pamela reached out to touch Rose’s sleeve. “By the way, Miss Collier, I wanted to discuss something with you. My husband’s grandparents were among the first settlers in the area, and they drove all the way from Boston in a covered wagon. No train in those days. His grandmother kept extensive diaries about her life—five volumes in all. I’ve found them quite interesting. I’ve talked with my husband, and John agrees that instead of keeping them to ourselves, we should donate them to the library. What do you think?”
Rose’s thoughts raced. What historical treasures those diaries must be. “I’d love that. We could have a shelf of pioneer memoirs. Do you know if anyone else has kept accounts of his or her life and would like to donate them?”
Pamela flushed. “I keep a diary, of course, although I’m not good about writing every day. But I’d hardly want my diaries available for public consumption.”
Rose gave her an understanding smile. “The library will be here for a long time. Someday, perhaps your adult grandchildren will donate your diaries to the library.”
“Well…” Pamela pursed her lips. “I suppose after I’m dead, what I’ve written won’t matter. It’s not as if anything scandalous has happened to me. There are some…intimate passages. Nothing too improper, though.” She nodded, causing some tendrils to slip around her face. “Yes, when I’m dead and gone, the library can have them. I’ll put a clause in my will.” She held up her hands. “Not that I have a will. But I suppose John and I should.” She looked at her friend. “What about you, Beth?”
“I do keep diaries and have a will,” Elizabeth told Rose. “Nick insisted upon having agreements in place before we married to protect me and our children. But I can surely add an additional clause for donating my diaries. Maybe something like thirty years after my death.”
Her forehead scrunched. “Nick stores a trunk in the attic containing his parents’ belongings. They died when he was thirteen, and he went to live with John. I’ll look through the contents to see if either of his parents left anything the library can use.”
Rose exhaled in delight. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”
Pamela sent her friend a thoughtful look. “We should encourage others to write down their own histories and keep diaries.”
“Wonderful idea.” Elizabeth’s eyes sparked with interest. “Although a diary, pen, ink might be luxuries some families can’t afford.”
They both glanced in Delia’s direction. “Christmas,” the two chorused, and then laughed.
Rose narrowed her eyes and bristled. Surely, they couldn’t mean for Andre to assume the expense of such gifts?
Elizabeth nodded in a decisive manner. “I’ll put in an order from Boston.”
Rose hid her sigh of relief.
A beautiful woman with auburn hair and cornflower blew eyes joined Pamela and Elizabeth—a close friend by the way she placed a hand on the small of their backs.
They shifted to let her fit between them.
Elizabeth tipped her head toward the newcomer. “Rose, surely you’ve heard of Samantha Thompson’s miniature horses? They are a favorite topic of conversation and create much longing among the children.”
“And plenty of adults,” Pamela chimed in. “As fast as one of her mares foals, the baby is snapped up.”
“I have, indeed, heard of your little ones,” Rose told Samantha. “The Falabellas. Andre took me to meet Micah’s pair yesterday. I found them quite captivating.”
Talking about the Falabellas made Rose remember how, after a visit to see the little black horses, she became uncomfortable with the intimacy stemming from the close confines of the dimly lit stable. Sam was nowhere in sight, and she was far too aware of Andre’s nearness.
She’d claimed fatigue, hurrying them out of the stable and into the house before he could offer to take her for a drive in the ridiculously tiny buggy pulled by the two adorable creatures. Once inside, claiming the need for a nap, she’d practically run to her bedroom. Even now, the memory made her squirm.
Cora approached their foursome, towing her new friend by the hand. “Aunt Rose, Elsie and I were just talking about the two men wounded by the robbers. She says they’re returning to Sweetwater Springs the day after tomorrow. Neither one of them is married or has relatives, so they must be alone with no one to take care of them.”
Rose could already see where Cora was steering the conversation. Oh, no. Don’t even think of suggesting you will step in and nurse them.
“Buck Skold is one of our ranch hands.” Samantha smiled at Cora. “I promise we’ll take very good care of him.” She nodded toward the twins chatting with the doctor’s wife. “Alana is the one in the blue, and her husband, Patrick, came for the Harvest Festival. She’s a nurse who’s studying to become a doctor. They’ve stayed on at our place in case her services were needed. We’ve also been grateful to have Patrick ride out with the our cowboys to make sure the ranch was well guarded until the outlaws were caught.”
Cora swept them all a triumphant smile. “Then if Buck Skold is in good hands, that leaves Brian Bly to me. I will nurse him. After all, that’s what I’ve been studying for.”
Elsie frowned, and her hands fluttered. “I don’t know, Cora. I haven’t been to Mr. Bly’s house, but Hank Canf
ield, who’s a neighbor—”
“And Elsie’s beau,” Cora added, with a smirk and knowing glance at her new friend.
Elsie blushed and elbowed Cora. “As I was saying, Hank tells me Mr. Bly has a small, one-room cabin, and the interior is rather sparse. I don’t think you’ll be comfortable.”
“I’ll manage,” Cora said breezily, with an airy wave of her hand.
Too bad she’s too old to spank. Rose settled for a disapproving frown. “Absolutely not! You will not go live with a man in a one-room cabin—” she ticked off one finger “—in the middle of nowhere—” a second tick “—without any chaperone.” She held up a third finger before closing her hand and lowering her arm.
Mrs. Cobb, who’d left her group to linger close by with her teacup and saucer, her ear so near she almost overbalanced, sidled up to them. “Miss Cora, I must agree with your aunt. Mr. Bly’s leg was injured. To nurse him, you’ll have to see his bare limbs, touching him unclothed. Quite out of the question.”
“That’s what nurses do.” Cora raised her chin. “If anyone is so evil-minded as to say otherwise—” she glared at Mrs. Cobb “—I don’t care about their malicious opinions.”
Rose wanted to shake some sense into her niece. Doesn’t Cora realize she’s on the brink of ruining her future?
Delia touched Rose’s arm and leaned to speak in her ear. “I can see Cora’s set on the idea and won’t budge,” she said in a low tone. “Best mitigate the damage as much as possible.”
“How?” Rose was so agitated, she could barely keep her voice from rising.
“By changing the circumstances.” Delia turned toward the others and raised her voice. “We can certainly send a brigade to Three-Bend Lake to clean up Mr. Bly’s place and stock the pantry with food. If we build another room onto the cabin, then, at least, Cora would have separate sleeping quarters.”
Torn between exasperation and admiration, Rose wagged a finger at Delia. “You’re sounding like your father. Taking charge of everything and, in the process, flinging around a great deal of money.”
A slow smile bloomed on Delia’s face. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Of course you would,” Rose murmured, not hiding her sarcasm.
“Just a minute,” Elsie said softly, leaving their group and hurrying over to the shabbily dressed woman, perched on the sofa.
She held a plate with a sandwich in her lap and was chatting with Mary Norton, Delia’s mother-in-law, who sat next to her. In front of them, the laden dishes almost obscured the flowers painted on the top of the butler’s tray table.
Elsie paused, apparently waiting for a lull in the conversation to interrupt the two. She pinched a few inches of her skirt and moved the fabric to and fro.
Mrs. Norton used tongs to lift a petit fours from the tray and place the tiny treat on the woman’s plate, motioning for her to eat.
“That’s Anna Swensen,” Pamela said to Rose in an undertone, noticing her interest. “She’s married to a Swede, who’s a hunter-trapper. They have seven daughters and finally their eighth is a son.”
Seven daughters, oh my!
Mrs. Swensen took a bite of the petit fours. She half-closed her eyes, and her smile bloomed. She opened her eyes and finished the little pastry, obviously savoring each small bite.
In spite of her annoyance with Cora, Rose couldn’t help but smile at the woman’s pleasure in the food. By her thinness and the way the minister’s wife plied Mrs. Swensen with more sandwiches, she wasn’t accustomed to special fare.
Rose made a mental note to introduce herself before the tea party ended. She’d also ask Delia to send along the leftover sandwiches and cookies for the Swensen family. Although perhaps that was something the hostess normally did.
Elsie took a seat next to Mrs. Swensen and said something in her ear that made the woman stop eating, frown, and shake her head.
With concerned expressions, the two put their foreheads together, talking fast and casting anxious glances at Mrs. Norton and then at Cora and Rose.
Curious, Rose wanted to move closer. Since the topic probably concerned her niece, she had the right to eavesdrop. But she refused to act like Mrs. Cobb. From this distance all she heard of the conversation was “Jewel.” What could jewels possibly have to do with this situation?
By their nods, the two women seemed to come to an agreement. They pulled apart, said something to Mrs. Norton, and the three stood and came over to their group, Mrs. Swensen clutching her plate with both hands.
The minister’s wife introduced Anna Swensen to Rose and Cora, mentioning that the Swensens were neighbors of Brian Bly and Hank Canfield, although they lived higher on the mountain than the bachelors of Three-Bend Lake. Mrs. Norton gave the woman a gentle smile. “I’m delighted Mrs. Swensen is here today, for we don’t often see her family. With their small children, they cannot hike up and down the mountain.”
“It’s a rare treat to come to town, although my older daughters go to school as often as the weather permits.” Mrs. Swensen smiled at Pamela and Samantha before turning back to Rose. “Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Thompson have been kind enough to provide my girls with school clothes.”
“Anna, we’re using first names, remember?” Elizabeth tipped her head toward her friends. “Pamela and Samantha.”
“Yes, ma’am, uh, Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Swensen flushed with apparent pleasure. “Today, Torin Truesdale, our other neighbor, let us borrow his wagon, which is why we were able to attend church and I could come to this tea party. My husband is at the mercantile with Hank and the children, selling furs and buying supplies for the winter.”
Rose got the sense that Mrs. Swensen had very little contact with other women and thus had a lot of words stored up, which she wanted to share.
“My husband thinks he’ll have enough money left over from purchasing the supplies to buy me a dress length.” Mrs. Swensen ran a hand down her faded skirt. “Oh, my. I haven’t had a new outfit in ages.” She touched Elsie’s arm. “Elsie insists on making the dress for me, which will be far finer than anything I could have sewn by hand.”
“And faster.” Elsie gave the woman an affectionate sideways hug. “I can use the sewing machine after the store is closed.”
Mrs. Swensen reached out to take Rose’s hand, squeezing and releasing. “Miss Collins, my daughters are so excited about the library. We can’t even imagine a whole building filled with books. They’ve already borrowed all the ones at school. Their teacher allows my girls to bring them home. Sometimes in the evening, my oldest two read to us.”
The reverence in her tone made books sound like treasures. The thought made Rose smile. Perhaps that’s what Mrs. Swensen and Elsie meant by jewels.
Mrs. Swensen shifted her plate to one hand and gave Rose a shy look. “Elsie told me about your niece wanting to nurse Brian Bly, and that you have some concerns. Would it ease your mind if I checked on Cora every day?”
Only partially. “That would be kind. But we wouldn’t want to impose.”
With a sniff, Mrs. Cobb inserted herself into their midst. “A daily visit doesn’t settle the proprieties, though, Miss Collier. Who knows what mischief a young man and woman alone could get into.” She gave Rose a steely look. “The niece of our librarian must be respectable. After all, her actions reflect on you.”
Rose bristled. No one, not even the most unpleasant woman in town, will insult my niece! “Then I will appear in a most favorable light, considering Cora’s good-hearted willingness to be of service to a hero in misfortune.”
Mrs. Cobb scowled. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I predict no good will come of her doing this.”
Mary Norton drew herself up as far as her petite stature allowed. “Why, Hortense Cobb,” she scolded, her fierceness at odds with her gentle demeanor. “Those uncharitable sentiments are exactly what we hope to allay, and I expect you to do everything in your power to express support for Miss Cora’s dedication to what she sees as her duty to
our injured warrior.”
“I am concerned about Mr. Bly,” Mrs. Cobb said stiffly. “We must find someone else—someone more mature—to take care of him.”
“Who?” Delia asked bluntly. “Mrs. Murphy might normally be willing. But her boarding house is full of guests. You know what a busy time of year this is. Everyone who lives nearby and could possibly help out already has responsibilities and is also working hard to stock their larders for the winter.”
Mrs. Cobb looked taken aback. “Well!”
“That’s settled, then,” Delia said briskly, brushing her palms together. “Cora will nurse Brian. Now to strategize what’s needed.”
Elsie held up a tentative hand, as if asking for permission. “Perhaps it’s best if I go find Hank. He’ll know more about his friend’s situation than I do.”
Mrs. Swensen shifted her plate from one hand to another. “Torin sent money for us to buy supplies for Brian. My husband has the list.”
Delia’s brow wrinkled. “You mentioned Torin Truesdale before. But I don’t believe I know him.”
“He lives between Hank Canfield and Brian Bly at Three-Bend Lake.” Mrs. Swensen exchanged a hasty glance with Elsie. “No one else has a home near the lake. He has the nicest house and can afford to buy the extra supplies for Brian.”
Tilda stopped by to offer a tray of rainbow-colored petit fours.
Mrs. Swensen looked longingly at the tiny desserts, but when the other women declined, so did she.
Rose plucked two petit fours from the tray and placed the tiny cookies on Mrs. Swensen’s plate and one on her own to cover the kindness.
“That’s very generous of Mr. Truesdale.” Delia held up a finger. “However, I doubt he took a nurse into account when ordering supplies. Perhaps, when he comes here, Hank can bring the list, so we know what else to buy.”
Elsie made a sudden movement. “I’ll go get him right now. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“Elsie, dear.” Delia touched the girl’s arm. “I’ll send our coachman for Hank. Even with the time spent hitching up the surrey, Sam driving to the mercantile will be faster than you can walk there and back. I’ll have Sam tell Mr. Canfield my father has need of him. I’d best get Papa as well.” She cast the ladies a conspiratorial smile and headed out of the parlor, presumably to the kitchen to send Sam after Hank.
A Late-Blooming Rose: A Montana Sky Series Novel Page 14
