CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
At the knock on the door Manda glanced up from the rawhide she was braiding. Who could it be this late in the evening?
“You want to get that?” Mary Martha called from the kitchen.
“All right.” Manda untangled herself from the lengths of latigo and went to the door. “Baptiste!”
“May we come in?” At his we she realized Thorliff was with him.
“Ah . . . a’course.” Ma would wonder where my manners went. But he’s never come to the door like this before. I usually just go out my win-dow when he whistles. Her thoughts must have registered on her face because Baptiste motioned to the door again.
“Sorry.” Manda held the door open for them to enter. “Is . . . is anything wrong?” Someone hurt? What? Tell me what?
“Is Pastor here?”
“In the other room.”
Thorliff shifted from one foot to the other.
Something was wrong, Manda knew for certain. Both of them acted like cats on a hot stove. None of the normal laughing and funny pokes.
“Could you get him please?” Now it was Thorliff sounding all polite.
“What’s wrong?” Manda kept her voice low.
Baptiste shook his head so slightly she’d have missed it if she hadn’t been studying him.
“Who was it?” Mary Martha followed her bulging apron into the room. “Why, Baptiste, Thorliff, how good to see you. Is something wrong?”
“No, ma’am. I—we’d like to speak with Pastor, and Mr. MacCallister too, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Manda, your pa is out to the barn. John is . . .” She started to leave, then turned back, gesturing toward the sofa and chairs. “Please, make yourselves to home.”
“What is going on?” The words came out hissed because Manda couldn’t get her teeth to unclench.
“Just wait.” Baptiste’s voice wore the tone of command he used when they were out hunting and he’d seen the quarry long before she had.
Manda crossed to the chair where she had all her supplies and gathered up the yards of rawhide strips and the already braided latigo. “I was trying to get a new lariat done for Pa before he leaves in the mornin’. Thought he could use an extra.”
Both young men nodded.
Talk to me! What in tarnation is going on?
“Good evening. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” John Solberg gestured toward the chairs. “Sit down. The coffee will be hot in a few minutes, or would you rather have something cold?” Pastor Solberg’s entire face smiled.
“Neither right now, sir.” Baptiste glanced from the pastor to Manda.
“Please go get your pa.”
“Well, of all the—” While Manda rarely flounced, this time she managed with aplomb. The screen door closed behind her with a satisfactory clap. She leaped off the porch and charged down to the barn, where Zeb was checking the shoes on his horse and the two pack animals.
“They want you up to the house.”
He released the front hoof and straightened. “Who?”
“Thorliff and Baptiste.” She knew she sounded abrupt even for her, but by now she wanted to skin her two best friends. Flay them head to foot.
“Okay, but . . .” At her shrug, he headed for the house, then stopped. “Are you coming?”
“Don’t know why. No one ever tells me nothin’.”
“Quit pouting and come on along. Perhaps we can have some more of that raspberry swizzle you made. It was right good.”
“We drank it all.”
Zeb sighed. “It’s not like you couldn’t make more.”
Manda left off digging a hole to China with her boot toe and, at the crooking of his finger, walked beside him to the friendly lit windows and open door.
“This house sure does cast a welcome, don’t it?”
Then why don’t you stay here? But this time she kept her words to herself. At least he was speaking to her again.
Zeb paused just inside the door. “Good evenin’. This looks to be a mighty important meetin’.”
“Yes, sir.” Thorliff nodded. Baptiste did the same.
Pastor Solberg motioned toward a chair. “Have a seat. Manda, you want to help your ma get the refreshments ready?”
No, I’d far rather stay here and find out what’s going on. But with only the slightest flaring of her nostrils, she did as requested. Until she got around the door. She held her breath so she could hear better. When Mary Martha frowned at her, Manda shook her head. Please don’t make me come help.
“So, boys, what can we do for you?” Pastor Solberg’s voice could be easily heard.
“Not for me, Pastor, but for Baptiste here.” Thorliff was speaking.
“You know, Mr. MacCallister, that Manda wants to go to Montana with you.” Baptiste could be heard easily, his voice carrying a new tone of assurance that she’d not heard before.
“Yes, I know that. I told her no.” Zeb sounded puzzled.
Puzzled didn’t begin to cover what Manda felt. But at the same time a thrill of pride for Baptiste made her shiver.
“Well . . .”
A slight pause. Manda wet her lips.
“Manda and I would like to be married and go with you, sir.” The words came in a rush.
Manda felt as if she’d just been poleaxed. She leaned against the wall, fighting to regain her breath.
The silence in the other room thundered in her ears.
“I see.” Pastor Solberg finally said. “You love Manda, son?”
“Always have—since the day Thorliff drug her to school.”
Manda shivered again, this time with the thrill of his words. He’d never said “I love you” to her. He loves me. He really does. She clasped both hands over her heart. Surely they could hear it thundering. She turned at the hand on her shoulder to see Mary Martha smiling at her. Manda went into her ma’s arms like a lost child coming home.
“You know that some folks around here wouldn’t take kindly to this union,” they heard from the other room.
“I know. But no one will care in Montana. If we can’t go with you, Zeb, we will go on our own. Maybe even on to Wyoming. I can provide for her. You know that.”
And I have my hundred dollars. Surely that would go some to buy land or to pay off a homestead.
Mary Martha stroked her daughter’s hair. Manda felt a drop of moisture on her hand and took her ma’s hand in her own. “Don’t cry,” she whispered. “Please don’t cry.”
Mary Martha sniffed. “I’m trying not to, but you know tears are for joy too.”
Manda turned back to listening.
“Will you marry us?”
Manda could feel the looks going between Zeb and the pastor.
“You’d best ask her pa first, son.”
“Mr. MacCallister, could I please marry Manda? We do want your blessing.”
Manda could hear Zeb’s sigh. She leaned into her ma’s arms.
“Baptiste, I reckon I have no trouble with tellin’ you yes. Are you sure that is what Manda wants?”
“Yes, but I knew I had to ask you first.”
Of course that’s what I want. I been waitin’ forever. Manda gripped Mary Martha’s hand and clenched her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Then, if you all agree, I must say that I will be happy to perform this marriage. You best go ask your intended, but I have a feeling she and my wife are hiding right behind that door and didn’t miss a thing.”
Manda and Mary Martha looked at each other, unable to stopper the giggles that burst forth like the bubbles on apple cider kept a mite too long.
“You go on out back with that man of yours, and I’ll serve the others.” Mary Martha gave the girl a push.
Her face feeling as if she’d been toasting in front of a roaring fire, Manda accepted the hand Baptiste held out to her, and together they walked past the others and let the screen door slam behind them.
Mary Martha picked up the tray and carried the glasses of raspberry swizzle,
along with cookies, into the other room.
Manda and Baptiste sank down on the rear porch that pretty much matched the front one. He took her shaking hands in his and leaned forward.
“Do you want to marry me, Manda?”
“You know I do. We been over that already. What made you change your mind?”
“Thorliff and Grand-mère. They both said I was two kinds of fool to let you get away.” His eyes glimmered like sun-struck obsidian.
Manda waited for words she’d been longing to hear. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Ain’t you got something else to say to me?”
Baptiste wrinkled his forehead. “You’re going to marry me.” He thought. “When?”
She shook her head. For as smart as he was, he sure needed leading. “You told Pastor and Pa that you loved me. Don’t you s’pose you oughta tell me?”
Laughter burst from Baptiste as though she’d just told a worldclass joke.
Manda tried to withdraw her hands, but he only clenched them more firmly.
“Not funny.”
“Yes, it is. All right. Manda MacCallister, I love you. There now, how’s that?” He waited. “Well?”
“Well, what now?”
“Don’t you have to say the same?”
“Oh.” Manda swallowed a snicker. She leaned her head into his shoulder. “I love you, Baptiste LeCrue, now and always.”
“Now that’s taken care of, we need to go ask your pa again if we can go with him. And if he would give us a couple of days to get married and get ready.”
“I can be ready in an hour or so.”
“Don’t you want to say good-bye to people here?”
Yes, but if they make remarks about you, I might have to bust ’em one. “Not too many.”
“Ah.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead first, then her nose, and finally her mouth.
“Hmm,” Manda whispered when he pulled back. “I like that.”
“Me too.” He stood and pulled her up with him. “Come on, squirt, let’s get on with this.”
“Name’s Manda.” She playfully punched him on the shoulder. “You big brave.”
She wanted to hold a finger to her lips to keep the warmth of the kiss in place but followed him back into the kitchen instead.
“We are gathered here in the presence of God and this company to celebrate the marriage of Baptiste LeCrue and Manda Norton Mac-Callister.” Pastor John Solberg’s strong voice rang clear and true.
Manda’s knees were shaking so bad she thought everyone clear to Grand Forks could hear them rattle. No matter how many times she tried to swallow, her mouth only dried up more. If she hadn’t been hanging on to Baptiste’s arm, she knew for certain she would’ve melted down into a puddle right in front of the altar. But when he covered her hand with his, strength flowed back into her backbone, and she straightened right up.
Behind her feet shuffled and a throat was cleared. Not that there were very many people in attendance. She hadn’t wanted any more. Just the Bjorklunds and Metiz. Thorliff was standing up for Baptiste, and Deborah, who hadn’t quit crying since they told her the news, stood beside her.
“Marriage is a holy institution.”
Thank you, God, we didn’t just run off like I wanted. But this dress sure itches. I don’t never want to wear anything starched again. She glanced down at the yellow lawn skirt. She’d never worn anything so pretty in all her life. Maybe if it just wasn’t starched . . .
Baptiste squeezed her hand, and his smile set her stomach to fluttering. Did he go from boy to man overnight, or did she miss out on something?
Where had her mind gone? Surely she ought to be paying attention. After all, this was her wedding day. The thought made her shiver. Was she ready for this?
The amen drew her back from her rolling thoughts. She glanced up to see Pastor Solberg gazing at her and then at Baptiste. Was his mind going like hers? Was he wishing he could run to the river or ride off on a horse?
Pastor’s smile held all the reassurance of the noonday sun. He turned to Baptiste. “Do you, Baptiste LeCrue, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”
Baptiste’s “I do” rang with total conviction.
She drowned in the look he gave her. With each word either of them spoke, she grew more certain. This surely was the way life was supposed to be. God, you know I don’t ask for much. I told you once that if you’d not bother me, I’d leave you alone too. If you remember, could you now forget I said that? If it would be all right, that is. I’m sorry for doubting you, and I sure have enough to be grateful for now. Thank you for Baptiste and . . . and this. Her amen that sang with the others carried all the commitment she could surrender.
When Baptiste turned her toward him to kiss her, her neck and face burned like a prairie fire blown by a hard west wind.
But the kiss—ah, the meeting of lips, hearts, and souls—lasted an eternity, but the seconds were far too short.
She laid her hand on her chest to suck in enough breath to live. The look she gave Baptiste made chuckles pass over the gathering that sounded like a mother hen tucking her chicks under her for the night.
Baptiste pulled her hand through the crook of his arm, and they walked down the church aisle to the music of Uncle Olaf ’s guitar.
“You’re crying.” Baptiste touched her cheek.
“No, I ain’t.” Manda sniffed but didn’t dare wipe her eyes. “It was just so pretty and all.” A sigh caught her unaware.
“What?”
“Leaving is going to be far harder than I thought.”
“Manda, you look so pretty.” Deborah put both arms around her sister’s waist. The “I don’t want you to go” was muffled in the ruffles down the front of Manda’s dress, loaned to her by Anji.
Manda wrapped her arms around Deborah’s shaking shoulders. “I know. But I will come back to visit, and when you get bigger, you can come to Montana too.”
“I already am bigger,” Deborah said, wiping her eyes.
Manda kept one arm around Deborah and turned toward Pastor Solberg, who was trying to get everyone’s attention.
“Folks, Haakan and Ingeborg have invited us all to their house for dinner, so I suggest we get in the wagons and head right on over.” Pastor Solberg made shooing motions with his hands to the laughter of all.
Manda felt she’d never been hugged so many times in her life by the time the tables were cleared again. Everyone seemed to be standing around waiting for something. She and Baptiste looked at each other, both wondering the same.
When a wagon turned into the lane, Andrew threw his hat in the air. “Here it comes.”
“What comes?” Manda looked to her father, who appeared as confused as she. It was his two packhorses pulling a prairie schooner with white canvas stretched over hoops to create their new home.
“Well, I’ll be a . . .” Zeb took off his hat and smoothed back his hair before settling the flat-brimmed hat back in place with both hands. “I was glad to say you could come along, but I didn’t expect a wagon.”
“Something to get used to, all right, but you know women. When they get a bee in their bonnet, you never can tell what’s going to happen.” Haakan pushed back his hat with one finger.
“This is all we could manage in such a short time.” Ingeborg came to stand beside Manda and Baptiste.
“But . . . but, I thought . . . I mean Pa was all loaded. What more did we need?”
“There are blankets and a quilt in the trunk, pots and pans, flour, beans, and other basic supplies. I fixed you a medicine kit. Everyone donated what they could.”
Metiz stood on the other side of Baptiste. “Furs and skins too. I put in a knife for each of you.”
“There’s a cutting from that rosebush by the porch. It should root easily.” Ingeborg gave Manda another quick hug. “We weren’t sure if you were going to have your own house or live with Zeb, but either way, I’m sure you’ll have use for all these things.”
“
We can never say enough thanks.” Baptiste turned to Thorliff. “You knew?”
“Ja. Spent half the night helping Hjelmer set the hoops. That canvas has been patched some, but it should keep things dry for you.”
“I’m so sorry we didn’t have time to make a wedding ring quilt for you like we have the others.” Ingeborg shook her head. “But you can pick it up when you bring the horses back next summer.”
“Sure.” How do I thank you for all of this?
“We thought you and Baptiste might like to start out in the wagon this afternoon. Zeb will catch up with you tomorrow.”
“That would be good.” Baptiste let out a breath and nodded.
“All your things are packed.” Mary Martha came to give Manda another hug and to peel Deborah away from her sister’s side.
As Baptiste helped Manda up over the wagon wheel, ignoring her snort, he whispered something in her ear.
She nearly choked, sat herself on the seat, and turned to wave at those surrounding them. “Thank you all for . . . for everything.” She smoothed the skirt of the dress she still wore. Anji had said it was hers, another present. And if the look Baptiste gave her as they pulled out had anything to do with anything, perhaps she’d wear it again sometime.
“Where’s my hat?” She shaded her eyes against the westering sun.
Baptiste reached behind the seat and pulled up a sunbonnet, also yellow and trimmed with daisies. “This one?”
“No. My . . . perhaps so.” The wide brim did indeed shade her eyes. Who knew how life was going to change if her wearing a sunbonnet was any indication?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Dawn had yet to ribbon the horizon.
Thorliff slung his bag into the chest at the rear of the cook shack and slammed the lid. While he wouldn’t be along with the threshing crew for the entire harvest, he’d help out with a good part of it. That was his and Mor’s plan. Haakan still insisted that Thorliff didn’t need more schooling. Not that so many hands were needed, since the drought made the harvest both early and slim. They’d finished their own acres and those right around Blessing in little better than a week.
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