Heaven Sent (Small Town Swains)

by Pamela Morsi

  Because Hannah had never allowed any man to sit with her in church or walk out with her in the evenings, her father believed her to be one of those women fulfilled by spinsterhood. It had never occurred to him that her lack of a husband was due to his overburdening her as a daughter.

  Hannah might have been content if her father hadn't remarried. But now it was Violet's house and hearth. And Hannah felt in the way.

  Of course, it wasn't only for her father and Violet that Hannah had come up with her plan. She wanted a family and a man of her own. At her age, it wasn't easy to go husband-hunting, although she knew that she would make an excellent wife. She was capable, diligent, used to hard work, and of an even temperament. She needed a man who would accept her for those practical qualities, but that kind of usefulness didn't generally catch the eye of young men.

  As Hannah headed back into the house, her father continued to gaze at the top of the rise. He'd named it Plainview Church because you could see nothing from that rise but just plain view.

  Hannah's eyes, however, did not linger on the church that was going to be, but on the house that was, and had been, her home for so long. If her plan worked, and she was sure it would, this would be one of the last mornings of her life here. Would her new home be as loving and peaceful as this one? Surely with a man like Will, it would be.

  Will Sample had moved to the area over a year ago, setting up a dry goods store down near Pearson's Creek. For Hannah it had not been love at first sight, or even the nearest thing to it. Will was not the kind of man to set a woman's heart aflutter. Most women would have said he was big, and shy, and homely. But Hannah thought he was much like her. Hardworking and eminently practical, he was a man of few words, and though he had few friends not many would have stated that they disliked the man.

  Almost from the day he moved to the area, he had latched on to Hannah's family. He was there most Saturday nights for supper. He never missed a Sunday service. If there was anything extra to be done, if a man's hand was needed, he was available, right along with her brothers.

  For a while, Hannah was puzzled by this. People had reasons for the things they did, and at first, she couldn't fathom Will's. Then she realized that he must be coming around to see her, and she was flattered, and mildly amused. After her father married Violet, she became interested.

  Hannah was certain that she could make him a good wife. She didn't love him, of course. But that would come in time, she knew. A good marriage should be based on comparable purpose and ambition. Hannah knew that she had good business sense and could be a help to him in making his store prosper. Both of them being matter-of-fact and sensible, they would work well together.

  But that had been several months earlier. With each passing week it had become more difficult to wait for Will to work up the courage to begin a courtship. It had become increasingly obvious to Hannah that he was so shy he could only rarely manage even a few words for her. She tried to give him opportunities to see her at her best, to be alone with her for as long as was proper, and to try to make him as comfortable as possible in her presence.

  Hannah had maintained her patience as long as possible, and finally she knew something had to be done. Then suddenly the perfect plan was right before her eyes. Now all that was needed was the doing of it . . . .

  The morning was a busy one for Hannah. She expected to feed close to a hundred people, counting the children. She knew that every woman would be bringing food, but it was still the responsibility of the preacher's family to see that everyone had plenty to eat.

  As she sat on the wash bench under the blackjack tree snapping beans, Myrtie and Violet came over to join her.

  Her sister stood before her, smoothing her hair and preening as she admired her ruffled skirts.

  “What do you think of this dress, Hannah? I do look all right, don't I?"

  “You're a vain child, Myrtie," Hannah answered, but there was a smile on her face. “If you do as well as you look, then you'll be doing all right."

  Violet laughed. "Oh Hannah, Myrtie always does what she is supposed to do, and when you are especially pretty you can't help but be a little vain about it."

  Hannah didn't know that she truly agreed with that, but she held her tongue. Violet was such a cheerful person she was difficult to scold.

  Hannah and Myrtie settled themselves under the tree and began the process of snapping the beans and transferring the snapped portions to another saucepan. Myrtie's help was halfhearted this morning and her talk inevitably turned to boys. Hannah listened as she always had. She wished she could share her own excitement and nervous anxiety about the events coming up in her life. But telling Myrtie would be like advertising in the Gazette. This was something that Hannah would have to keep to herself, at least until tomorrow, when everyone would know anyway.

  "Look, Hannah, someone is coming down the road already." Myrtie quickly grabbed the edges of her apron, forming a safe pouch for the beans she held in her lap, and stood on her tiptoes to get a better view.

  “Who is it?" Hannah asked.

  “I can't tell," her sister answered, shading her eyes against the sun.

  Hannah stood up and looked down the road at the wagon coming slowly toward them. Hannah noticed the driver's shiny black hair and her heart began beating quicker. Will Sample, the first to arrive. Hannah struggled to control her breathing and tried to remain unconcerned as her future rode toward her.

  "Oh, it's Henry Lee Watson!" Myrtie exclaimed.

  Hannah looked again and realized Myrtie was right. She guessed that she was so anxious to see Will that she saw him even when he wasn't there.

  "I can't imagine what he's doing here," Myrtie said. "Why, he doesn't even attend church."

  Hannah knew Watson lived out near Pearson's Creek just across the line in the Indian Territory. He'd been here long before the Washington policy that had offered any willing farmer one hundred and sixty acres just for tearing up the prairie grass and planting in the remaining dirt. The change had not been without incident, and cattlemen and farmers still weren't on the best of terms. But Henry Lee was neither farmer nor cattleman. He held a rather unique position in the community. Revered by some, despised by others, he refused to take the judgment of the community too seriously.

  Hannah knew little of him except that it was said that if more than two people were meeting together, Henry Lee Watson would soon be showing up. To Hannah, this meant that his interest was in trifling pursuits and idleness. Not the type of steady, hardworking man that she could respect.

  "He's here because I asked him," Papa said, as he came up behind them, "and don't you be making eyes at that one, little sugarplum. He's a grown man who's lived a full life, I've no doubt, and he's no match for the likes of you. But he is one good cabinetmaker. To my mind he ought to take up cabinetry full-time, but I guess it's his choice. Anyway, I want him for the finish work for the church."

  Henry Lee rode up into the yard and waved. Six foot two inches of lean, muscled man, he rarely went unnoticed by females of any community.

  "Reverend Farnam," he said, doffing his hat to the ladies with a handsome smile, "the devil must still be sleeping this morning, looks like a perfect day for building a church."

  "That it does, Henry Lee, and I hope you're feeling like working."

  "I will surely try, Reverend, but with pretty ladies like these around, why it nearly puts me out of the working mood altogether." His words and charming smile were directed at the women sitting on the wash bench.

  Myrtie giggled and covered her face with her hands. Violet laughed lightheartedly, as if flirtation with the preacher's wife and daughters was perfectly normal. Hannah just stared at him wondering how a grown man came to be so frivolous. Oh, she could see why Myrtie found him interesting, he was a fine-looking specimen, broad enough in the shoulders to make his height seem everyday. And the black hair that betrayed his distant native heritage was thick and straight and offset by the most amazing blue eyes that seemed perpetually
to be dancing with amusement.

  Hannah found him fascinating, almost like a rattlesnake. He was just the type of man she'd warned Myrtie to avoid.

  "What are you bringing us here, Henry Lee?" Hannah's father asked.

  "Venison," he replied unloading the contents of the wagon and hoisting the haunch of meat on his shoulder.

  "To tell you the God's truth, Reverend, I had this terrible nightmare last night." His eyes scanned Farnam and then the ladies, keeping everyone's attention.

  "I kept hearing something calling 'Help us! Help us! She is going to kill us all!' and do you know who was calling me? Why those fine laying hens of yours. I could just see Mrs. Bunch saying she was going to have to do away with every last one of them to feed this crew." He flashed a dazzling smile at Violet, causing her to blush prettily.

  "You could say," he teased her, "that I'm bringing this deer to insure the future of eggs in the territory."

  Everyone laughed.

  "I trust that this is all you brought, Henry Lee." The preacher's tone was serious.

  "It is, Reverend," Henry Lee told him cheerfully. "Even I can forget about business for a couple of days to help build a church."

  The preacher seemed to like his answer. "Have you had your breakfast, Henry Lee?" he asked. "Seeing how you're here first, you'll have time to try some of those eggs you're so fond of and maybe some of my wife's biscuits. Light as air, they are. That's why I married her, for her biscuits."

  Henry Lee said something quietly under his breath to the preacher, who laughed heartily and clapped him on the back as they headed into the house.

  As the morning lengthened, others began arriving and the air of a festive occasion blossomed. The men all headed up to the rise with a wagon load of lumber brought by Mason Dillary. Will's arrival almost passed unnoticed by Hannah, who had finished up the beans and was shucking com.

  Will bypassed the house to go straight to the rise, and had someone not called out to him Hannah would not have known that he was there at all.

  She wanted to speak to him and set her plan in motion, but apparently that would have to wait until later.

  The sounds of shouts and hammers filled the air as the men began laying out the foundations for the church. By late morning the frame was up and it was possible to see at last that all the noise was really producing a building.

  Myrtie asked to carry water to the men, and Hannah was sorry that she hadn't thought of it. That would have been the perfect way to have a moment to speak with Will. Of course Myrtie would think of it. Hannah decided that she would just have to wait until she had dinner on the table and then confront him.

  The women had arrived with baskets of breads and jars of pickles and dressed hens for dinner. Just as Violet predicted, there was going to be plenty to feed everybody, not only for dinner, but more than enough left for those staying for supper as well.

  Many of the church members lived long distances away and would be staying the night, bunking down in the barn or out under the stars. It was perfect for Hannah's plan.

  Sawhorses were set up about twelve feet apart and planks were laid to make a temporary table. It took three of Hannah's mother's tablecloths to cover it. The food was laid out and everyone filled their plates. It was called having dinner on the ground because there wasn't enough room for everyone to sit at the table.

  Myrtie graciously volunteered to pour lemonade and Hannah was obliged to run back and forth to the kitchen to replenish her supply, along with a thousand other errands.

  The mood was happy and cheerful, with everyone in high spirits and children running wild. Hannah, however, was becoming more nervous by the minute, afraid that she would miss her opportunity to speak with Will.

  At the last possible moment, before the men went back to work, Hannah spotted him taking his plate back to the table and intercepted him.

  "I'll take that, Will," she offered with a smile. "Did you get enough to eat?"

  "Yes, ma'am," he replied, immediately becoming red-faced. "Your stepmama sure sets a fine table, Miss Hannah."

  Will was a goodly sized man, with large features and a round face. His complexion was naturally ruddy, but it had been Hannah's experience that anytime he spoke to her his face and neck were constantly flushed red.

  "Would you like another piece of pie or maybe some of that berry cobbler?"

  "No, ma'am, I'd better be helping the others," he said, turning to go.

  "Will!" Suddenly Hannah had his attention but didn't quite know what to do with it. "It sure is powerful hot out here today."

  "Yes, ma'am, a real scorcher." Will ran his hand through his thick black hair as if to relieve the weight of it.

  "I certainly feel sorry for you men coming here to do this good work and then having to try to sleep out in this heat." Hannah could feel her face burning as hot as the summer sun she was talking about.

  “Oh, it's no problem, ma'am."

  "Yes, well." She hesitated as her mind screamed have courage, Hannah. She couldn't look him in the eye, but gazed off into the distance. "I imagine the best place for sleeping tonight would be the wellhouse, it's always a mite cooler there." She watched his reaction closely to see if he read anything into her comment, but he didn't appear to.

  "Yes, ma'am, I suspect so."

  "If I were you, Will, I'd get that place for myself."

  "Sounds good, ma'am, thanks for the advice."

  Will stood there waiting to see if she wanted to say anything else. Hannah wanted to, but she seemed to have lost her ability to speak. With a nod of her head she dismissed him and he headed back up the rise to the church.

  Hannah felt ill. She had never been so afraid in her life. She couldn't decide if she wanted to lie down or take off running. But the deed was done. Will would be in the wellhouse tonight.

  Hour by hour, the church seemed to take shape. The laughter involved in putting on the roof was unseemly to Hannah, who was getting more nervous by the minute.

  "They shouldn't be carrying on like that," she grumbled. "Laughing and joking while they work on the Lord's house."

  "Good heavens, Hannah," Violet said, "You are always far too serious for your own good. Don't be so sour. The Lord expects us to be happy, he'd never be insulted by a little laughter in his house." Then her stepmother looked at her more closely. "Are you all right, Hannah?" she asked.

  "Yes, Violet, I'm fine, just a little tired, I guess." Hannah rubbed the back of her neck to ease the tension that had settled there.

  Violet's eyes softened. "I'm sorry I wasn't more help at dinner. You never seem to mind doing it all so I just let you. I promise I'll do better at supper."

  "It's not you, Violet, truly," Hannah said. "I guess just have a few things on my mind."

  "Here," Violet said, handing her the water bucket "you take this up to the men and it will get your mind off your troubles."

  The last thing Hannah wanted to do was to stand around under the scrutiny of the men, and she certainly wasn't going to say another thing to Will, but she took the water bucket and headed up the rise.

  As she walked up to the first group of men she noticed that they were all gathered around Henry Lee Watson.

  "There were these two sisters from Cincinnati," Henry Lee was saying. "The fat one was named Ima and thee skinny one was name Ura. Well, when the brush salesman came to the door—"

  One of the men signaled to Henry Lee and he immediately stopped his story and turned to face Hannah.

  "Miss Hannah, you've brought us water!" he said loudly as if he were speaking for the benefit of everyone. "There's nothing more encouraging to a man hard at work than the sight of a pretty girl concerned with his comfort."

  All the men seemed to be looking at Hannah and she felt distinctly out of place. That was another thing about Henry Lee Watson that she truly didn't like. He made her feel uncomfortable. It was as if, when he was around, the differences between men and women were somehow more marked.

  He took the ladle from her a
nd drank deeply, then he poured a second ladleful over his face.

  "On a day as hot as today, ma'am, you could offer a man a drink like this and he would give you anything." He spoke the words in a stage whisper that seemed to insinuate some sort of intimacy between the two of them. It made her flustered and she searched for a scorching reply.

  As he drank another ladleful, she said as haughtily as she could manage, "It's only water, it's not as if I made it myself!"

  Henry Lee spewed the water out of his mouth nearly choking and laughter rang out all around them. Horrified, Hannah realized the implication of her words. The idea that she “made water" was the most humiliating thing she had ever said in mixed company. And he was laughing at her.

  "Here, take it." She handed him the bucket and, with blazing cheeks, headed back down the hill at a controlled and moderate pace, her back stiff with anger.

  He better not be interested in Myrtie, she thought to herself furiously. He was terrible, but a young girl like Myrtie wouldn't be able to see past that handsome face. Surely Papa would never allow a crass man like him to court little Myrtie.

  Supper was served late. The men wanted to use every last bit of daylight so they could finish early tomorrow. The high spirits of the afternoon had given way to an overall tiredness. Hard labor for ten hours made the supper table a quiet place.

  Hannah was quiet also. Time seemed to drag, and yet the hour for implementing her plan was almost upon her. She kept reminding herself that this was all in the good book, but she was beginning to have some doubts As the men got up to leave the table, she came out to clear it.

  She watched Will head toward the wellhouse and she reminded herself of the prize she sought. A good, hard working man to live her life with, to give her children and to grow old beside. Hannah finished her chores and returned to her room.

  Myrtie flounced into the bedroom and peered over her sister's shoulder as Hannah sat on the bed, poring over her Bible.