Instead, Dorrie discovered she really loved spending time in the garden. A week of weather in the mid-eighties made the garden explode with growth almost overnight. Plus, Taylor had given her a bit of advice about using mulch that cut back on the weeds. He’d advised using clean straw, but she credited her mixture of clean and soiled straw from the stable with the rapid growth. The more she worked, the more she remembered her mother’s methods. And, oddly, the softer her memories of her family became. Although she couldn’t get bone meal like her mother used, Dorrie figured any type of nutrient helped growth. Despite Valerik’s teasing, she still talked to the plants.
Hefting the watering can, she stretched out her arm and gave the middle row one last drink. Then she carried the basket into Cinnia’s kitchen, and set a big bowl into the sink. Soaking for a few minutes always helped loosen the clinging dirt from the vegetables.
“Listen to this.” Cinnia walked into the room and waved a note. She glanced at the sink and frowned. “More broccoli? Oh, Dorrie, they look wonderful and wholesome. But I don’t think I can stomach another mouthful.” She slumped into the chair.
“I know, I miss beans and corn, too. But they don’t grow here. Peas will be ready in a couple of weeks.” She glanced at the fresh produce. “You really can’t eat more?”
With a hand resting over her mounded stomach, Cinnia bit her lip. “Maybe in a couple days? Someone else might like them.”
“That’s a great idea.” Dorrie set to work scrubbing the vegetables clean. “I’ll take them to the mercantile.”
“You can show off the gardening trousers I made.”
“I don’t know.” She glanced at Cinnia with an arched eyebrow. “You think Morgan’s Crossing is ready for two women wearing men’s clothing?” A giggle escaped. “Alas, I was born too late to take part in the bloomer movement from thirty years ago. But this style makes crawling around on my knees so much easier.”
Cinnia waved the note card. “I’ve been invited to visit Prudence to discuss a new mother’s wardrobe.”
“Interesting. Maybe you can get more details about Michael’s cousin who I heard is arriving soon to manage the hotel.” The next question was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back. When would Valerik return from his mysterious trip? He’d already been gone a week, leaving the day after his job ended. She hadn’t realized how much she’d depended on seeing him at the end of each day. “Tonight, can we discuss the decorations for this month’s dance?”
“All right, but not at supper. I don’t want to overwhelm Nicolai, although the sweet man would never say a word.”
Dorrie set the cleaned vegetables into the basket. “Wish me luck. I’m off to peddle my produce.” She smiled. “I like the ring to that job—produce peddler.”
*
One afternoon, Dorrie was in the garden when she heard the jingle of a harness and the clomp of horse hooves. She mounded dirt at the base of the row of potato plants, only looking from the corner of her eye to verify the rider was Valerik. What nerve he had, showing up the day before the monthly dance.
“Afternoon, Dorrie. Boy, am I glad to be back.”
“Huh.” She dug the trowel deep and flung the dirt a bit too hard. With quick movements, she brushed the dirt from the leaves.
Leading Levka on a loose rein, he walked close. “Is there a problem?”
Jumping to her feet, she jammed her hands on her hips. “You bet I have a problem. The dance is tomorrow, and you’re just now returning. Gone for days and days, doing who know what. You let me worry and stew about having to revert to the phonograph for the entertainment.”
He stared, his gaze moving up and down her body. “When did you start wearing those?”
She spared her trousers a brief glance and then looked back at him. “That’s not an answer, Mister Andrusha.”
The corner of his mouth twitched a moment before he stalked across the yard and swept her into his arms. He kissed her hard—his lips moving, possessing, tasting—then he set her away from his body. Whistling, he walked away. “I missed you, too, Dorrie.”
“Oh.” She raised a trembling hand and touched her still-tingling lips. Warmth from his mouth remained and she wondered if she could taste him. But a tongue swipe only gathered dirt which gritted in her mouth. After glancing around to make sure no one saw them, she stomped into the kitchen for a drink of water. That man.
Irritation still ruled her emotions when everyone sat to dinner that night. She’d promised herself she would not be the one to bring up the reason for his trip. Much to her chagrin, no one else did either. Something was being kept from her, but she couldn’t figure out what. Cinnia was in on it because she couldn’t hold Dorrie’s gaze for more than a second.
“Valerik, I’ve got a question.” Nicolai set down his knife.
Now, this is it. Dorrie scooted forward on her chair.
“Should the house I build be a log cabin or clapboard?”
What? Her stomach clenched. “You’re moving?” Dorrie put down the fork topped with cooked carrots.
Frowning, Nicolai gestured toward the wall ladder in the corner. “Cinnia can’t be climbing up and down that to get to bed. Once she increases more than she has, the ladder won’t be safe. And how is she to relocate the child between floors? In the same crate we use for Sacha?”
At the sound of her name, the dog raised her head and the fluffy tail thumped on the floor.
He shook his head. “A house is the proper place for a family.”
Valerik scratched his chin, his fingers rasping against beard stubble. “Logs would be faster, but not all women like the look. Based on my experience with the hotel, placing orders for lumber on a consistent basis means you shouldn’t run out of supplies.”
“This town needs a sawmill.” Shaking his head, Nicolai cut off a slice of roast and chewed.
“Don’t I know that.”
Dorrie looked to her side to gauge Valerik’s expression. What did he mean by that comment? Was this the secret?
Cinnia raised a hand. “I prefer clapboard if I have an opinion.”
Nicolai placed his hand over hers. “Of course, you have an say about your own house.”
“Where…” Her word croaked, and Dorrie cleared her throat. “Where are you building?”
“Negotiations are ongoing, but the location’s not far.”
Leaning forward, Cinnia smiled. “And, of course, we’ll have room for you.”
That statement haunted Dorrie as she prepared for bed. Is that who she was destined to be? The third wheel, the favorite auntie, even if not related by blood?
On Saturday, Dorrie woke to a sunny day—the day of another community dance. If she concentrated on the preparations, she could not think about Valerik’s sudden mysterious statements. Asking Cinnia to help with the decorations ignited a latent spark. Although the orator vowed she never wanted to step on a stage again, she’d created a grand tableau. The painted backdrop with the Grecian columns from her vaudeville performances was hauled out from the storeroom and erected behind the small stage she begged Nicolai to build. The rise was only a foot tall, but she contended Valerik needed the added height.
“Don’t you think calling the town dance a Terpsichore is a bit overstated?” Dorrie wrapped a satin ribbon around the stems of her bouquet of purple mountain larkspur, blue phlox, daisies, pink beardtongues, and yellow sunflowers. Sweet and pungent scents filled the room, and the dressmaker’s work table had disappeared under a riot of color.
“Not at all. The name for the Greek god of dancing and song is perfectly appropriate.” Cinnia measured and cut another length of ribbon. “Oh, no, no. Remove the sunflowers. They off-balance the others. Those we’ll put in vases.”
Dorrie laughed. “You mean pickle jars?”
“Have you forgotten how Mister Thomas taught us to always create an illusion of a better state?” Smiling, she spread her arms to encompass the table. “We’re creating magnificence out of everyday stuff.”
“Boy, I could have used your enthusiasm at the first dance.”
“Ah, was it horrible?” Cinnia rested a hand on the corner of the table, her brows wrinkled.
“No, just very basic.” She really didn’t want to share how ill-planned the first event was.
A grin stole over her mouth. “Well, I have a surprise. Are you ready?”
“More than what you’ve already done?”
Cinnia walked to the shelf where finished customer orders were stored and picked up a cloth-wrapped bundle. Glancing around for a place to put it, she approached Dorrie. “Hold out your arms.”
Curious, she did as instructed and waited with bated breath as Cinnia unpinned the folds and revealed a dress of pale cotton sprigged with tiny sky-blue flowers. A swath of solid blue gathered across the neckline and swooped up to form the over-the-shoulder cap sleeves. “It’s so beautiful. When did you…how did you…?” She gaped, knowing she looked silly.
“You’ve been spending more time in that garden than you think. Besides, this is my thanks for taking care of Sacha and the shops.”
“But, Nicolai already—”
Laughing, she stepped away, waving her hands. “You can’t give it back, because I’ll never fit into it. At least, not for a long time.”
That night, Cinnia offered to collect the entry fees.
Dorrie insisted she take the chair. “Greeting everyone is part of my hostess duties. Plus, I get the advantage of a first look at what everyone is wearing.”
“This will be such fun. I’m close to the entertainment, but I’m not on stage.” Her green eyes caught the lantern light as she gazed around.
Voices sounded from just outside the door.
“And the evening starts.” Dorrie turned to greet the first arrival. “Welcome to the August Terpsichore.” That name does not flow out of my mouth. Over the next few minutes, she received as many compliments on her dress as she did on the vegetables people bought from the mercantile. For only one of those could she take credit, but knowing her efforts were acknowledged made her heart swell with pride.
May Tisdale leaned close with a hand to the side of her mouth. “You got something different in that garden of yours? Special soil or seeds sent from a relative in another state?”
Getting seeds from another state was an idea to be pursued. Dorrie kept her real secret to herself. “Just encouraging words and lots of water.”
As she walked away, the snowy haired woman chuckled. “Talking to plants, indeed.”
Tall Bill Simms stepped up. “Dorrie Sullivan, I’d like to introduce the hotel’s new manager, Laura Fitzhugh.”
Dorrie smiled and nodded at a woman who looked to be several years older than she with light brown hair and crystal-blue eyes. “Nice to meet you. Welcome to Morgan’s Crossing.”
“Evening, Miss Sullivan. I’ve been looking forward to this since I arrived.” She turned and nodded toward Cinnia. “Missus Andrusha.” The couple started to walk away, but then Laura turned back. “I wonder if you knew a very talented violinist is currently a resident at the hotel. Her name’s Magic Rose. I believe she planned to attend tonight.”
“I look forward to an introduction. Having variety in the performers will be a great addition, if she’s willing to play.” Now that she’d spoken the words, she hoped Valerik wouldn’t take offense at sharing the stage. Then the next arrivals took that concern out of her thoughts. Pennies clicked into the basket, and she exchanged greetings with people who were regular attendees.
Michael and Prudence stepped up to the table, smiling.
“Good evening. How’s the little guy doing?” Dorrie leaned far enough to see the chubby-cheeked baby was asleep. Probably not for long.
“Excuse me, Prudence.” Michael lifted a hand to acknowledge someone across the room.
“Yes, dear.” She bobbed her head and the feather on her hat dipped. “Cinnia, I can’t tell you how much easier feeding the baby is now that you made those alterations to my dresses.”
Cinnia smiled. “Your idea was a good one. I’m thinking of making up some dresses for myself. And I hear Bertha is getting married in a couple weeks.”
“That she is.” Prudence smiled. “Our little town will be busting at the seams.”
Dorrie couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Good pun, Prudence.”
She straightened and blinked, glancing wide-eyed between the two women. “I made one, didn’t I? Oh, I see Michael waving me over.”
“I need to make my welcoming speech. Are you all right to stay here?”
“Sure.” Cinnia nodded. “You’re right. Being at the entrance is a great spot.”
As she’d done before, Dorrie clapped to gather attention and then thanked everyone for coming. She barely got his name out of her mouth before Valerik started off the first tune, and the dance began.
As requested, Valerik started with a reel, and folks moved to form two lines from all sides of the room.
Underneath her feet, the floor vibrated from the shuffling and stomping. No matter how proud she was of his playing, she couldn’t deny the sadness at not sharing a dance with him, her supportive friend.
Several dances had been enjoyed by all based on the noise and the laughter when Dorrie felt a tug on her arm. She turned to spot Laura standing with another woman.
“Here’s the woman I mentioned. Magic, this is the dance hostess, Dorrie Sullivan.”
Dorrie smiled at the striking woman with long hair and hazel eyes. The off-white blouse she wore offset her wavy brown hair. “I’m glad to meet you. You have a promoter in Laura, and she said you might play tonight.”
With a frown, Magic glanced toward the dancers. “My violin music isn’t anything like this.”
“Now, don’t be modest.” Laura nudged Magic’s arm. “Her husband, Justin, returned to the hotel to get her violin and he should be back any moment.”
From experience, Dorrie knew some performers needed a bit more coaxing than others. “I will share that Valerik mentioned how tired his fingers were after the July Jamboree. He played for almost two hours with only a couple of breaks.”
“Well, maybe…to help a fellow musician.”
A dark hat bobbed through the crowd in their direction.
“Here you are, Magic.” A brown-haired man dressed in denims and tailored shirt held up a case.
“Thank you.” She dipped her head and took the handle. “Mister Justin McKay, this is Dorrie Sullivan. She’s who arranged the event tonight.”
“Pleasure, sir. Well, if everything’s set, let’s move to the front of the crowd so we can be ready when Valerik finishes the next song.” She started through the crowd then turned back for a last question. “Anything special I should say about your first number?”
Magic pressed her lips together before she shook her head. “Just say it’s a waltz.”
Dorrie positioned herself opposite Valerik so he’d see her when next he looked up. Sometimes that didn’t happen until the end of the song but she waited, ready to give him a signal.
Instead, when he stopped, he rested his palm across the strings while dancers clapped.
She hurried to join him on the stage and waved her hands above her head. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor of introducing a visitor to Morgan’s Crossing who is an experienced violinist. Missus Magic Rose McKay has agreed to share her talent by starting with a waltz.” Dorrie gestured toward the performer before starting the welcoming applause.
The woman carried herself with a regal air and then settled into the recently vacated chair.
Dorrie stepped to the long wall of the hall with Valerik at her side. She leaned close as Magic poised the bow over the instrument, obviously composing her thoughts. “Surprise guest that I couldn’t refuse.”
“I’m glad for the respite.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.
At first a few couples danced, but as the number progressed, everyone stopped and just listened to the beautiful notes created by the strings and bow.
With her eyes closed, Dorrie felt the vibrating notes of longing deep in her chest, like the performer had lost someone dear and the haunting music held the pain of that loss. The soloist played several other selections, but this one moved her the most.
By the time Valerik started the next jig, everyone was ready to congregate on the floor.
As she moved among the attendees, Dorrie realized she hadn’t heard a single word about a mystery or a calamity befalling any of the town’s residents. Hugh requested a partner for a reel, and she accepted one from Dean Tisdale, but the reach to his shoulder made a jig awkward.
Hours later, when the event ended, Dorrie blew out the lanterns then left the hall, startling at the sight of Valerik waiting. “Oh, I didn’t expect you to wait.” Suddenly alone with the man who’d been on her mind since that abrupt kiss yesterday made her as nervous as when they first met. “Wasn’t the soloist wonderful?”
“She had talent. Although, I couldn’t place her first tune.”
“A lovely waltz.” Dorrie scuffled her feet in three-quarter cadence then stopped. Heat invaded her cheeks, and she scrambled for anything to talk about to hide her embarrassment. “You know, these dances have been such a success, I’m thinking about saving money to buy a horse. That way, I can drive out to the neighboring towns of Buffalo Hollow and Honey Grove and do the same. Of course, I’d pick a different Saturday of the month.”
He shoved his free hand into his front pocket. “I don’t know about Honey Grove, but I passed through a town by the name of Buffalo Hollow on my southward travels. If it’s the one you mean, the place is half this size. You would be putting out a lot of energy for a very little return. Besides, a woman traveling alone is not a good idea.”
She scurried ahead so she could turn and face him, causing him to stop in the middle of the road. “But I’d be seeing new places and helping other people. I’d bring something to their lives they didn’t have before. Like how I used to do with my vaudeville act.”
Head down, Valerik walked a couple more steps.
Maybe their separation had drawn them closer. In the muted light of the night, she felt like she could share her deepest feelings. She threw out her hands to the side and spun in a circle, head thrown back. “What good is a performer who no longer has a stage? I feel like my years of being in the troupe have to count for something. This is what I’m trained to do.” Like a shooting star, an idea struck. “You have two horses, and I have the wagon. You could come with me so I wouldn’t be traveling alone.”
Montana Sky: Dance Toward The Light (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Entertainers of The West Book 3) Page 12