“And I’m here,” she added with a false confidence.
“Exactly,” he said. “I know how much your mother has taught you about cooking and gardening, and that will be of great help to all of us.”
She chewed on her lip. There was no way she could lie. “She’s tried to teach me, you mean. I haven’t been the best student.”
He laughed. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Uh-oh. This was not going well.
Fortunately, he redirected her attention to the garden, and they walked over to see it. It was at the side of the house, and from what she could see, they were growing a great crop of dried stalks and faded bushes. She leaned over a row of shriveled fern-like tops.
“Carrots, I presume?”
“That’s what we hope.”
She dug around the top of one and pulled out a rather withered orange root. “When were these last watered?”
He shook his head. “Last week, maybe?”
A droplet of perspiration dripped from the end of her nose. “I don’t think that’s enough. Where’s the well?”
He pointed to the pump near the back of the house. “It’s pretty good. There’s an aquifer we’ve tapped into.”
She sagged in relief. “Good. We’ll get to that this afternoon then. And how about the farming itself? What are you growing?”
She was surprised at how knowledgeable she sounded. Maybe some of her mother’s efforts had taken root. She grinned to herself at the pun.
“We’re making an effort at wheat, but I haven’t had much time to focus on it lately.” He nodded toward the field, the husks rustling in the wind.
“We’ll work on that, too.” If I have any idea what to do, that is, she said to herself. “Let’s go back in and see if Winnie and Annylee are ready for us. This sun is a scorcher, isn’t it? This is one time when the wind actually seems welcome.”
Suzette took one last look at the pitiful garden and followed him into the house.
Winnie was singing softly to Annylee. Suzette recognized the melody. It was the hymn “Children of the Heavenly Father.” They’d learned it in church school as children themselves.
“Would you like to hold her again?” Winnie asked, and Suzette took the adorable infant from her arms.
“She smells so good,” she said.
“She doesn’t always,” Winnie retorted with a chortle.
“I imagine,” Suzette said, burying her face in Annylee’s hair.
“So,” Winnie said, “tell me what’s going on. How is your mother doing?”
Gladly on the safe topic of her family, Suzette told them of her mother’s new interest, the solarium, and her father’s solid dedication to his work.
“And others?” Winnie asked with a sly wink.
“Others?” Suzette asked blankly.
“Well, look at you, holding that baby and looking for all the world like a little mother yourself. When are you and Harrison going to marry and start your own family?”
Suzette froze in place. “Marry? I’m not—Harrison and I aren’t—why would you say such a thing?”
Tom cleared his throat. “I think I’ll make us some tea while you two chat. Suzette, how do you like it? With sugar? It’s so warm, but a nice hot drink might cool us off.”
Winnie waved him away. “Quit trying to change the subject, Tom. Suzette and I are talking about Harrison and when Suzette is going to marry him and have babies.”
“We were not!” Suzette protested. “I’m not going to marry him!”
“Admit it. He has a place in your heart. You’re going to have to acknowledge it.”
“He doesn’t.” Suzette shook her head vigorously, but there was something catching at her, something that she dismissed. He was just a friend.
“You two are destined to be together. Your parents began planning it when you two were cradled in the same nursery at church. Everybody knows you’re going to marry him.”
“Everybody except me, apparently.” Suzette smoothed the hair back from Annylee’s forehead, marveling at the texture of her skin, and driving away the memory of the way his hair had fallen across his brow, the way he had held her, the way he spoke her name.
“Take my word on it,” Winnie said. “You two will be married within a year.”
“I don’t think so. For one thing, he’s not here, is he? And for another thing, I don’t love him.”
“Give it time. Things come in time. Or, the realization comes in time—the realization of what’s been in your heart but you were too stubborn to see.”
Suzette snorted. “There’s nothing in my heart right now for Harrison. And I don’t want to talk about him anyway.”
“You’d rather talk about tea, wouldn’t you?” Tom interjected smoothly. “It’s all ready for you.”
As the three of them sipped tea and Annylee gurgled happily in her bassinet, Tom and Winnie took turns telling her about living on the prairie, their words tumbling over each other in their still new excitement about the beauty around them.
“What about winter?” Suzette asked. “Is it as bad as I hear it is?”
Tom looked grim. “It’s really cold, for sure. Of course, we’ve only been here for one winter, and we were told it wasn’t bad, but nevertheless it was deadly cold. We spent most of the time in here, reading and rereading the books we have.”
Winnie motioned toward the sparse shelf beside the rocking chair that held a few volumes. “Tom and I took to reading Shakespeare’s plays out loud. I have to say, he makes a fantastic Richard II.”
They smiled at each other, and the love telegraphed between them, still as bright and vivid as the day they were married.
“It’s not all bad. Everything has something good in it if you’ll just open your mind to it,” Tom said philosophically. “Like spring here.”
“The spring—oh, the spring, Suzette! It happens almost overnight!” Winnie’s face glowed as she drew pictures in the air with her fingers. “The trees burst out with pale green buds, and here and there little flowers pop up, and you want to kiss each and every one because you’re so glad to see them!”
“It does seem to occur that quickly,” Tom added. “One day you’re so frozen and you’ve despaired of winter ever ending, and then the earth turns green. It’s wonderful.”
“Tell me about the town,” Suzette prompted.
“Hope?” Tom asked. “It’s small. It has the usual businesses, like a post office and a bank.”
“And the best church ever.” Winnie leaned forward. “We haven’t been there lately because it’s dreadfully hard to go anywhere right now. It’s simply called Hope Church, and it fits its name. We get so much encouragement from the services. The man who is our minister is also a farmer here, so he understands us.”
“There is a store there, too, but unfortunately it’s closing in a few weeks. The owners are going back to Wisconsin. I don’t know what will happen if someone doesn’t take it over before they leave.”
“How far would you have to go for supplies then?” Suzette asked.
He frowned. “Probably all the way to Fargo. You know what that’s like. In good weather, it’s not bad, but what we’ll do in winter, I have no idea. I know the present owners have advertised as far away as Minneapolis, so we do what we do best here in Hope—we hope.”
“We’ll be fine,” Winnie said reassuringly, patting her husband on the arm. “You’ll think of us this winter, sitting in your nice home, and be at ease knowing we’re just fine here.”
“About that,” Tom began, and cleared his throat. “About that. Winnie, Suzette is here for as long as we need her. She’s come to help us out for a while.”
“Really?” Winnie looked from Tom to Suzette and back again. “Really?”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Suzette said. “I really do want to be here for as long as you need me. You know I’ve always wanted to live out in the Wild West, and the wild Dakota Territory is just the ticket. So it would be good for both of us … if you
want.”
Winnie beamed. “Are you teasing me? Please tell me you’re not teasing me! Suzette, there’s nothing I’d like more! It’ll be just like old times—but with a baby and a husband.”
Suzette exhaled in relief. This was going to be all right.
“How long can you stay?” Winnie continued.
“As long as you need me. If it gets too cramped here, I can move into town, too. But first, let’s get things settled here,” Suzette said with a confidence she didn’t really feel.
“You’re welcome for as long as you want.” Winnie reached across the table and grasped Suzette’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
As Suzette laid across the makeshift bed that Tom had made for her in the tiny living room, she tossed and turned. This was not the same as her comfortable four-poster back in St. Paul, but she wouldn’t change it for the world.
This was her adventure, and best of all, she knew she’d be able to help Tom and Winnie and Annylee. It was what she had prayed for.
Yet she had many things to do here. Was she up to the task? Why hadn’t she paid more attention to the lessons her mother had tried to teach her? The garden was nearly dead. The house was in complete disrepair. Their furnishings were, at best, minimal.
They had so little—and yet they had so much.
She thought of Harrison—and her heart turned, just a bit. She missed him. It was an odd sensation, and she told herself she was just overtired.
And she hadn’t said her prayers yet. She closed her eyes and phrased the simplest plea she knew: Dearest God, I’m here, and I know You’re here, too. Will You help me? Will You help them? Please?
Outside she heard the low rumble of thunder and then the steady splat on the roof and the hard ground, as if a thousand tiny pebbles were falling.
She finally dozed off, listening to the blessed sound and knowing it was rain.
Harrison sat in his parents’ house and opened the newspaper.
The usual issues of crime, politics, and general mayhem filled the front page. He sighed. How could people take advantage of each other this way?
Aimlessly, he flipped through the pages, scanning the occasional humorous bit, looking at the advertisements for products he’d never use. There was an article about plans for the upcoming holiday festivities, if the funding could be found and if everything could be put into place. Christmas was so far away, and yet, as the mayor said, if they wanted to make it happen, the time was now to start.
It was a good point, but he couldn’t get interested in Christmas. He’d heard what Suzette had said. “Christmas, maybe.” It might be three months on the calendar, but it was an eternity in his heart.
Suddenly something caught his eye. Something—interesting. Something that had meaning. Something that could change his life.
He had to do this. He had one chance, and this was it. No matter how difficult it was going to be, he had to do it.
Resolutely, he stood up, tucking the newspaper under his arm. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom and sat in the chair in front of his desk. Taking the pen from the drawer of his desk, he leaned over a piece of paper from the stack beside him and began to write.
After a while, he took up his Bible again and reread the verse from Jeremiah. What he had to do, he had to do with all his heart. It was about time he started.
Chapter 3
The storm lashed against the tiny house, and the walls shook from its fury. The sky, even at midafternoon, was sunless and low with thick gray clouds. Bursts of lightning creased the iron-colored darkness, and thunder rumbled from one horizon to the other. Rain fell in heavy torrents, windblown to nearly horizontal sheets.
Annylee fretted constantly. She wanted to be held. She wanted to be put down. She wanted to be rocked. She wanted to be fed. She wanted to be sung to. She wanted to be played with. She wanted to be soothed.
“Basically,” Winnie said, her patience worn to a frazzle, “she wants this rain to stop.”
“I would, too,” Suzette said, “except it’s good for the garden—if it hasn’t washed away every single withered carrot and dried-up cucumber.”
She picked up Annylee and took her to the window. “Look, baby! God is watering the earth for us. Isn’t that nice of Him? And listen to Him! He’s saying, ‘Watch this, Annylee!’ Look at the pretty lights!”
Annylee was quiet, watching the lightning as Suzette rocked her back and forth, humming softly, until at last Annylee began to breathe evenly, and she knew that the baby had drifted off to sleep.
Gently, Suzette put Annylee in her cradle, and the three adults relaxed.
“I forgot to give you the gifts my parents sent!” she whispered, afraid to wake the slumbering Annylee. “They’re in my trunk.”
She knelt in front of her trunk and dug out a sewing kit and several yards of a pale yellow sprigged calico, a box of chocolates, a book of nursery rhymes, a bar of scented soap, and a packet of flower seeds. Winnie and Tom opened the candy immediately.
“This is such a treat,” Tom said. “It’s been ages since I’ve had a good piece of chocolate.”
Winnie nodded in agreement and pointed at the trunk. “What’s that?” she asked through a mouthful of dipped caramel.
“Promise you won’t laugh?” Suzette asked.
“Not a chance. You know us.” Winnie grinned. “Why? What is it?”
Suzette took out a carefully wrapped flat package and opened it.
“I don’t believe it!” Winnie leaned forward. “It’s the picture, isn’t it?” She explained to Tom, “For as long as I’ve known Suzette, she’s treasured this picture she cut out of a magazine. What was it, an advertisement for soap flakes?”
“I don’t even remember.” Suzette gazed at the image of the young woman on horseback. “I’ve had it for years.”
Tom tilted his head and looked at it. “She looks happy.”
“She looks free,” Suzette said.
“When we were little,” Winnie told Tom, “she’d pretend that she was this woman. She even got one of her father’s coats and cut the sleeves, trying to make fringe.”
Suzette chuckled. “I thought he’d go through the ceiling. He was so angry. I’d chosen his best jacket, and somehow, all I managed to do to it was ruin it.”
“Women,” was all Tom said, but he smiled as Winnie took the picture and put it on the bookcase.
The rain continued all day and into the next. Finally, there was a break, and the sun came back, and the land seemed to forget that there had ever been a storm. Instead, the grasses greened again, and even the garden seemed to perk up.
She waited for the earth to dry before venturing out into the garden. She’d been there almost two weeks, and so far she hadn’t done much except sit in the house, helping Winnie cut the new fabric into a dress. They’d discovered there would be enough for a matching dress for Annylee, and the two women had spent hours figuring out how to put in the sleeves.
Grateful to be outside at last, Suzette tucked her skirts up and walked through the caked mud of the garden, pulling weeds that were clearly weeds, and leaving alone those which she didn’t recognize. Time would tell if they were vegetables.
“It’s really lovely out here,” Winnie said, carrying Annylee with her good arm.
Suzette wiped her forehead with her hand, knowing that she was spreading dirt across her face but not caring.
She liked babies, as long as they were somebody else’s, but Annylee, with her corn silk hair and bright blue eyes, was special. “Are you a pretty one?” she cooed to her. “Do you love your auntie Suzette? Oh, look at the birdie!”
Winnie’s laugh behind her made her flush. “You’re ready for a baby of your own.”
“I think I might get married first,” she retorted before she realized that she’d opened the conversation about Harrison again.
“It won’t be long for you. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Well, your bones are wrong.”
Tom joined them. “I
have to go into town this afternoon to get a machine part. Would you three ladies like to join me?”
Winnie shook her head. “As much as I’d like to, I think Annylee and I will stay here and enjoy the sunshine. You two go ahead.”
Suzette almost skipped into the house to get her bonnet. Even though Hope was small, it was a town, and she couldn’t wait to see what it held.
The road to Hope was rutted after the rain, and she felt as if every bone in her body was jarred as the wagon rattled its way into town.
“Do you suppose I could ride Whirlwind?” she asked, her eyes on the horse as it plodded its way along.
“Sure. Tomorrow would be good. The ground should be dry enough by then for a safe ride. I don’t want him stepping in a soft spot and risk turning his leg.”
She sat back and smiled. Whirlwind wasn’t exactly a show pony, but he was a horse, and that was all that mattered.
The sun shone brightly and the air felt fresh and clean after the rain. She leaned back and let the warmth wash over her.
Soon he pointed ahead. “Look. There’s Hope.”
Ahead, a small knot of trees clustered together on the open plains—a prairie oasis. As they drew closer, she could make out the individual buildings.
Tom slowed down as they entered the town. “These are new,” he said, indicating the houses that were around the perimeter. “We have a lot of hope for Hope.” He chuckled at his own joke.
Most of the houses were recently painted, although a few were too new to have that amenity yet. They were neat and very small, and many of them displayed the pride the residents clearly felt about their community, with colorful curtains fluttering in open windows, and flowerpots along the entries, many of them with still-blooming plants.
“Here’s the church. We’ll get there this Sunday. We sure like it.”
It was the largest building, and the white steeple pointed heavenward, adorned with a black cross. Really, she thought, it was simply a smaller version of the one she went to in St. Paul, and that made her happy.
The WESTWARD Christmas BRIDES COLLECTION: 9 Historical Romances Answer the Call of the American West Page 42