Lone Star Trail

by Darlene Franklin

  She waved away her concerns. “You were busy making us a special treat. And I needed to cook. We have a saying here, about getting back on the horse. When something bad happens, you have to go back and do it again, so you don’t get scared. I have to cook, Wande. I can’t let this silly old stove make me afraid.”

  “You will let Jud carry the soup to the table.” Wande removed the biscuits from the baking sheet and used it again for the strudel.

  “Of course.” Mrs. Morgan winked. “Jud must be allowed to take care of me.”

  “It smells good in here.” A grinning Jud came in. His coat was open at the neck, his golden hair windblown. He smelled of fresh air and sunshine.

  “We want the men to judge our peach dessert contest.” Mrs. Morgan grinned at Wande.

  “I’ll be happy to oblige.” Jud rubbed his belly. “Whatever that is, it smells mighty good.”

  Marion and Tom came in together. “Oh, Wande, you’ll have to see him. He’s adorable!” She had gone to see the new calf, born a month earlier than the normal birthing season.

  “Now we’ll have milk and cream and butter again.” Mrs. Morgan’s eyes lit up.

  “Is the soup ready?” Jud sniffed. “Vegetable. My favorite.”

  Wande set the table while Marion and Tom cleaned up. Jud carried the pot to the table and set it in the middle before sitting down to return thanks.

  Georg joined them. “Do I smell strudel?”

  Wande nodded. “But I had to use peaches. There is also peach cobbler.”

  The six of them made short work of the soup and biscuits. Wande was relieved that her strudel had browned by the time they finished.

  Mrs. Morgan stood and clapped her hands. “And now, today, for your special enjoyment, we are having a peach baking contest. I have made peach cobbler. Wande, why don’t you tell us about your dish.”

  “We call it strudel. I don’t know how to describe it. You will try it?”

  “Of course they will.” Mrs. Morgan cut a small piece of each and placed it on their plates. “You are welcome to seconds.”

  Wande tried the cobbler first. “This is very good.”

  Jud cut into the strudel first. He brought the fork to his mouth, bit into it, then dived for a second bite. “This is delicious.”

  Wande tried not to giggle at the sight of the drop of filling caught on his chin.

  “Tom, wait until you try this,” Marion said.

  Tom ate the cobbler first. When he had finished the last crumb, he said, “I’ll want seconds, for sure.” Then he stared at the strudel like some alien creature. He looked apologetically at Wande. “I’ve never been much for trying anything new.”

  “That’s true.” Marion had finished her strudel and was enjoying her cobbler. “We couldn’t get him to eat frijoles for weeks. But you must try this, Tom. It’s like a peach pie with a crust on all four sides. Only better.” She shared a smile with Wande.

  With four pairs of eyes staring at him, Tom gave in and dug his fork into the strudel. “It’s good.” With his second bite, a frown crossed his face. “I’d like it better without the raisins.”

  “Alvie says the same thing. I used to feel the same way, when I was younger.” Wande paused. Had she just called him childish?

  “I used to think oatmeal raisin cookies were good if you left out the raisins.” Marion giggled. “But I like the raisins in this. It makes it special.”

  “How about you, Georg?” Wande wanted him to praise Mrs. Morgan’s baking.

  “Peaches are good, however you eat them. I like the cobbler and the strudel.”

  “And you, Jud?” Mrs. Morgan’s eyes bore into her son.

  He smacked his lips. “I’ll never pass up a chance for one of Ma’s cobblers.” He hesitated. “But this strudel is something mighty special. Mighty good indeed.”

  Wande blushed.

  Ma and Wande might think they had hidden the truth, but Jud knew Ma had fixed the meal. That bit of chili powder Ma always used to season her soup gave it away. Wande didn’t use the spice so foreign to her.

  In the weeks since Ma’s accident, Wande had become indispensable. Each morning, Jud left with her cheery singing of one Martin Luther’s many hymns ringing in his ears. He returned at suppertime to her happy chatter. Ma was a mother hen, always ready to take an extra chick under her wing, but she and Wande shared something special.

  In the evenings, Marion continued her English lessons with the two Germans. Wande picked up the language with amazing speed, although his name still came out “Yood” more often than “Jud.” Georg lagged behind, although he had no problem caring for the animals.

  But once Ma was well again … they had no reason to keep Wande around the house.

  And that thought made Jud sad.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  What makes you so happy this morning?” Marion hesitated in the middle of changing the dressing on the last of Ma’s burns. All but a couple of patches had healed. “Are you in pain? I can get you some laudanum.” She had stopped taking the medicine except at night.

  “No. But you’re all smiles and singing as brightly as Wande usually does.” Ma winced as Marion lifted off the last bandage, tearing a tiny pinch of skin. “Could it be because today is Valentine’s Day?”

  “Oh, Ma. It’s just another day.” Marion blushed when she thought of the card she had labored over. She hoped Tom would like it, and not think it too feminine. Since the holiday fell on a Saturday, she hoped they could go into town to celebrate.

  “Knock knock. May I come in?”

  She heard Tom’s voice and smiled. “Give us a minute.” She placed the fresh bandage over the burn, and Ma pulled down her blouse. “All right, you can come in.”

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Tom ducked into the room, holding a bouquet of purple wildflowers, from the lavender and white petals of the Carolina Anemone to the rich colors of the Wine Cup.

  “Tom, they’re beautiful. Look, Ma.”

  Ma sniffed the flowers and sighed. “Use my glass to hold them. It’s time I got a clean one.” She poured water into it from the pitcher, and Marion arranged the posies.

  “I’ll bring this right down to the table.” Marion lifted her face and kissed Tom on the cheek. “Thank you.” She traipsed down the stairs with Tom in tow.

  “I have something for you too.” Marion kept her gaze from the parlor, where her card lay in a drawer. “But you’ll have to wait.”

  “Then you’ll want to bring it with you.” Tom grinned. “Since it’s my half day, I’m going to take us to town tonight.”

  Marion took a second look at him. He had not only scrubbed his face and shaved, but he had also washed his hair and spruced up for the occasion. “Look at you. I’m still wearing my everyday dress.”

  “You look fine to me. But if you want to change, we have time. Wear that pretty yellow dress with the purple sprigs. Then you can pin a flower to your dress and it will match.” The way his eyes gleamed when he looked at her made her blush.

  She headed for the stairs … and ran into Jud’s broad chest.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” Jud looked from Marion to Tom, and his jaw clenched. “Let me guess. Valentine’s Day.”

  “The day for young lovers.” Marion swirled around. “Tom brought me the flowers on the table. Isn’t it romantic?” She dashed to the table and selected a Stork’s Bill bloom before heading upstairs. Though she hadn’t worn the “pretty yellow dress” since last summer, Tom remembered it. She would take it out of storage and wear it with a wrap. She ran a brush through her golden hair, parted it in the middle, and made two braids. She reached behind to hook the braids in a coil at the back of her neck. She tucked the flower behind her ear and headed downstairs.

  She paused at the top of the landing. Raised voices came from below.

  “—save the money you’re going to spend today on dinner?”

  “—have the money.”

  “—never save enough to marry my sister.” Marion’s
hand went to her throat.

  Wande came out of her room, her valise in hand, ready to ride into town with Georg.

  Marion put her finger to her lips.

  The men’s voices had risen enough that Marion could hear each word.

  “Valentine’s Day is only one day out of the year,” Tom said. “And it’s my day off. I’m going to town with your sister.”

  Tom didn’t often stand up to Jud like that. Marion felt a surge of pride.

  “And I have a question for you,” Tom said. “If you’re so keen on saving money, why is Wande still working here? Your ma is doing her housework again. There’s not enough work here to keep three women busy.”

  Wande gasped, loud enough that Ma called out from the bedroom. “What’s wrong?”

  Jud heard the gasp and lifted his eyes to see Wande at the head of the stairs, as pale as a quarter moon. Their gazes locked on each other. Then she turned and went back to her bedroom.

  Jud saw the smirk on Tom’s face and wanted to bash it with his fist. “I’ll deal with you later.” He turned his back on Tom and looked up the stairs. Part of him wanted to run after her. But that was foolishness.

  Jud grabbed his hat from the coat rack. “If anyone asks, tell ’em I’ve gone to the barn.” He didn’t know if Tom was listening. He didn’t care.

  Within the family, “going to the barn” had become Jud’s code for “I need some time alone.” When the house buzzed with too much noise from his family, he’d escape to the barn and talk things over with JM. At least the horse always listened. Sometimes Jud would escape to the hayloft and sit where the sounds were muted.

  Marmalade ran between Jud’s legs, meowing. Jud didn’t know how many problems he had talked over with the animals—and with God.

  He opened the door and gazed into the barn’s dark interior. He heard someone moving about, although it should be empty. Tom and Georg worked only a half day.

  It was Georg. He was talking to the new calf in the silly talk he heard Marion use sometimes when she petted Marmalade. “Gute kuh.”

  Jud cleared his throat. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

  “I am waiting for Wande, then we can leave.”

  Jud’s mind flashed back to the look on Wande’s face. “I’m not sure how soon that will be.”

  “I can wait. I like this cow and her calf. She gives good milk. Already she grows so big.” Georg spread his hands wide. “Soon we will buy two cows. Mr. Grenville at the store says he will buy our extra cream and butter. Mama is going to make cheese, too—to sell later.”

  Tom could learn a lesson from the Fleischers. All of them except Alvie had found work, already saving enough money to buy one cow. But would they have enough for a second if Wande wasn’t working?

  “But our cow won’t be as good as this mutter here.” Georg scratched a spot on the cow’s nose. He had a feel for not only the cows, but also the horses.

  “How much are you willing to pay for the cows?”

  “Papa said he heard of a man who offered for a cow 1,000 acres of the land from the Verein. But that was a long time ago. Here Papa is talking with a farmer who wants nine dollars for a cow and her calf.”

  Jud scratched his chin. He had four cows, the other three still pregnant. They supplied the ranch with more than enough milk and butter. They kept the steers mostly to raise beef for their own use. “I’ll sell you this one for the same price, as soon as one of our others gives birth and starts producing milk again.”

  The delight on Georg’s face rivaled the candles they lit on that ridiculous Christmas tree. “I will have to ask Papa, ja? But I am sure he will be pleased.” He looked at the floor. “I will tell you a secret. I have named them.”

  Jud laughed. “I do that myself. So what is this little heifer’s name?”

  “She is Karlina. She is strong.” He pointed to where the calf butted her mother’s side. “She is looking for her food, but later, she will be a good, strong kuh.”

  Jud extended his hand to Georg and they shook. “I’ll consider it a done deal, then—as soon as you talk with your father.”

  “It will not be long before you have another calf.” Georg pointed to the cow in the next stall. “Heidi will give birth soon. Maybe even tonight.”

  Jud went into the stall and checked the cow. Alice—Jud’s name for her—mooed low, in pain, and her sides heaved. Georg was right; her labor had started. Jud scratched his head. “So old John Bull got to you, too. Or else you’re a month early.”

  The door opened, admitting a shaft of sunlight. Jud saw Wande silhouetted in the doorway, holding two valises. She walked toward them, dragging her feet.

  “Wande, good news.” Georg bounded toward her. “Jud says we can buy this cow.”

  Wande looked at Jud, more reserve in her expression than he had seen since their first meeting. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan, but we do not need your charity.”

  “You’ve got both your bags, Wande. Why?”

  She lifted her chin. “Since Mrs. Morgan has recovered, I will not come back on Monday.”

  Her glare dared him to disagree.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Come, Georg. Let us leave this place.” Wande trembled with the effort it took to stand still. She felt equal parts anger and humiliation. Her brother patted the cow’s neck, the one Jud wanted to “sell” to them. “I have decided to stay here. Heidi will give birth tonight. I want to help her.” He nodded at the next stall. Jud ran his hands along the cow’s sides while staring at Wande openmouthed.

  She clutched a satchel in each hand and turned her back on them before speaking. “Then I will go into town with Tom and Marion.”

  “But what is wrong?”

  Wande heard the confusion in Georg’s voice. “Ask Mr. Morgan to explain.” She took a step toward the door. “Wande, wait.”

  Wande glanced at Jud’s dark face, then searched for the wagon, expecting to find it in front of the house with the horses hitched. But it was still beside the barn. Why was nothing going right on this day? She waited, gathering her courage to go back into the barn to fetch the horses, when she heard Marion’s soft laughter and the neighing of a horse.

  Marion and Tom sat together in the ranch’s carriage, a two-person conveyance that gleamed from a fresh cleaning. Marion wore a yellow dress more suitable for summer than for February, a purple flower tucked behind her right ear. She smiled, a young woman in love. Wande remembered her friend’s chatter about Valentine’s Day, when couples celebrated their love for each other. Tom and Marion’s plans must not include taking either Wande or Georg into town.

  The carriage slowed, and Marion leaned out the side. “Tom is taking me to dinner in town.” She glanced at the bags in Wande’s hands. “Please don’t leave until I get back.”

  Tom’s face told Wande nothing, and she wondered if she had misplaced her anger. Tom had accused her of not doing her share of the work—not Jud. She should listen to Jud’s side of the story. “Very well. I will stay tonight and go with you to church tomorrow.”

  Wande forced a smile and waved as Tom and Marion left. She would stay one more night, but she could not think of anything that would make her stay a day longer. She would return home, back to Mama and Papa, Drud, Alvie, and … her empty room. This day when Amerikaners celebrated love mocked her. Konrad also deserved some of her anger.

  The sun hung low, reminding her not to let it go down on her anger. She shook herself and headed back to the house. She would not let anger rule her world, but neither would she remain in a position that humiliated her and brought shame to her family.

  “Jud, is that you?” Mrs. Morgan said after Wande climbed the stairs to her room.

  Wande took stock of her appearance in the mirror. Her cheeks had paled, and shadows darkened her eyes. She splashed water on her face, added an ecru lace collar to her dress, and practiced a smile. “Peace and love, not anger, Lord. May they see You in me.” She left the room. “It is I, Frau Morgan.”

  “Oh, good. Yo
u left in such a hurry, I was worried.”

  Wande hung back at the top of the stairs, but Mrs. Morgan motioned to her from the parlor. “Come down, we need to talk.”

  Wande joined Mrs. Morgan at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Come in the kitchen and sit a spell with me. I’ve brewed some fresh coffee.” Mrs. Morgan took care to balance the pot before she moved it, but someone would have to know about the accident to notice. Only a small, angry puckering on the right side of her face evidenced the injury she had endured. She grimaced as she sat down, deepening the lines on her face.