Hope (9781414341583)

by Copeland, Lori

  Grow up? Well! How dare he talk to her like that! Perhaps she had been careless, but nothing had happened.

  Harriet resumed her vigil beside Luther at the window, and Hope dumped the mix of greens and mushrooms in the sink and poured a little water into the basin. “You know, Luther, I think this feud would be over if you would stop retaliating. It won’t be easy, but if you’ll take the first step—apologize to your brother for stealing his pig—then maybe he’ll reciprocate and you can put this feud behind you.”

  “Lyndon steals from me.”

  “Two wrongs don’t make a right.” She picked up the cleaned greens and carried them to the stove.

  “Hope.” Dan’s eyes sent her a silent warning. “Luther and Harriet should settle their own problems.”

  They should, she agreed silently. But obviously they hadn’t.

  Harriet spent the afternoon sitting next to Luther, knitting. Dan paced the small cabin, occasionally stepping to the back door to look out. Hope held her breath. She could see he was contemplating leaving, and it couldn’t come soon enough for her.

  Luther praised the tasty greens during supper, and Hope shot a smug look at Dan. The old couple excused themselves right after the dishes were washed, saying the events of the past few days had plain tuckered them out.

  Soon they heard snores coming from the old couple’s room. Hope sat cross-legged on her bed pallet, brushing her hair. Harriet had come up with an extra brush for her; at least she could groom her hair now. Once she would have been preoccupied with her looks, but lately she praised God for a comb.

  “You’re used to dealing with men like Lyndon’s sons, aren’t you?”

  Dan sat at the table sharpening his knife. “I’ve met a few like them in my time. Hotheaded, single-minded.”

  “Is that why we haven’t tried to get away before now?”

  “No, I just don’t see any purpose in risking our lives until it’s necessary.”

  “We could have gotten away this morning when the Bennetts were eating breakfast.”

  “We could have, but that’s what they expect us to do. We’ll leave soon.”

  Dan wasn’t inclined to open up to her, and that bothered her at times. Sometimes she wondered if he even liked her anymore. He seldom addressed her personally, yet she caught him staring at her when he thought she wasn’t watching.

  “You’ve done this a lot, then?”

  “Been stranded in a cabin with an old couple, a pig, and a chatterbox?”

  She threw the brush at him. “Joined gangs, pretended to be someone you’re not, escorted women to fiancés.”

  He dodged the weapon, smiling at her. “Occasionally.”

  Occasionally, she silently mimicked. That was his standard answer when he didn’t want to address her questions.

  “How can you do that? Pretend you’re someone else for months at a time?”

  “That’s one of the reasons I’m retiring. I’m tired of violating my conscience.”

  “Apparently you’ve been successful at your work. Can you leave the service so easily?”

  “As easily as you can marry a man you’ve never met.”

  His mild accusation surprised her. Is that what he thought her marriage to John Jacobs would be—a loveless union between two strangers? It didn’t have to be that way … she hoped.

  “It isn’t the same thing.”

  “Really.”

  “No—it isn’t uncommon for a man, a lonely man, to send for a wife. My sisters are each marrying a fine man: Nicholas Shepherd is a rancher; Eli Messenger, a preacher.” She paused, gathering her confidence. “Are you married?”

  He shook his head.

  “Someone special waiting for you to come home?”

  “My dear Miss Kallahan, has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

  “No, the only thing they’ve said is ‘Grow up, Hope.’”

  He glanced up, and she made a face at him.

  Returning to his task, he said quietly, “When I leave the service, I’m going to buy a few acres of land in Virginia and farm it. No woman, no prior commitments, no prospects in sight.”

  “By chance?”

  “Nope, by choice.”

  “You sound as if you don’t want commitments. Or a wife.”

  “I don’t, at least not right now. Maybe never.”

  She got up and put a pan of oil on the stove. “Ever been in love, Dan Sullivan? Really, hopelessly, out-of-your-mind in love?”

  “Not in a long time.”

  Hope didn’t know why his admission pleased her—almost made her giddy with relief. Just because he wasn’t spoken for didn’t mean she could have him. He’d just said he wasn’t in the market for a wife.

  “But you were once.” Hope wasn’t going to like this part because she knew the answer before he said it.

  “Once. A long time ago.”

  Dumping kernels of dried corn into the pan, she added a handful of salt and put the lid on the pot. The smell of popped corn promptly scented the air.

  “Want to talk about her?”

  “No.”

  “But let’s do because we’re searching for something in common.”

  “You might be.” He motioned to the sow. “Me and the sow aren’t.”

  He seemed to enjoy teasing her, but she desperately wanted a serious conversation with him. She removed the pan from the burner, drizzled butter over the hot corn, and dumped it into a bowl. Carrying it to the table, she sat down and scooped up a handful. “What’s her name?”

  For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. Absently reaching his hand into the bowl, he met her eyes.

  “Katie Morris.”

  “And?”

  “And, nothing.”

  “Oh no. There was something.” She scooted her chair closer. “You loved her madly—out-of-your mind loved her.”

  “I thought so, at the time.”

  “But she didn’t love you back?” Hope couldn’t imagine a woman failing to return his affection. Why, if he loved her—it wouldn’t take any effort at all to love him back.

  “Katie wasn’t ready for marriage or family life. She went off to an eastern women’s college. We agreed to write—keep in touch—but after a few months I never heard from her again. Years later I heard that she married a professor.”

  Hope’s handful of popcorn paused at her mouth. “That must have hurt.”

  He shrugged. “Life hurts sometimes, Hope. You get used to it.”

  His answers were so simple, so to the point. If only life were that easy.

  “I hope to find love with John,” she admitted softly.

  Laying the knife aside, Dan met her gaze over the flickering candle. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and she told herself it was the sound of the wind making her insides feel jittery.

  “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

  “Oh … no. Maybe puppy love, once. A boy in our church—Milo Evans. Milo was nice and cute, but he married Ellie Thompson last year. They have twins already.”

  The old clock on the mantel chimed nine. Outside, the wind battered the shutters, but inside, in her heart, sitting with him in this room, snug and warm, the smell of popped corn pleasant in the air, she felt … happy. Content.

  “My sisters and I didn’t want to burden our elderly aunt after our father died,” she said, hoping to make him understand why she’d agreed to a mail-order husband. “We prayed a lot over the decision and felt that God was leading us. We did what we felt we had to do.”

  Of course, she wished she could have met a man and fallen in love, married in the normal manner. But she hadn’t. What had Dan just said? Sometimes life hurts?

  “There were no men in Michigan?” he asked gently.

  “Not where we lived—not suitable men. Dan … I’m sure Mr. Jacobs is a good man.” If that’s what he was concerned about, she could read him all of Mr. Jacobs’s letters—put his mind at ease.

  His thoughts, if he had any in particular, d
idn’t register on his face. Pushing the knife back into its sheath, he moved back from the table. “It’s late. Time we turned in.”

  “I guess so.” For some reason, she wanted to sit up and talk all night. About nothing, or about everything. The subject wouldn’t matter; being with him did.

  Reaching for the old Bible in the middle of the table, she opened it to Genesis. “I’m not sleepy yet. You’re right. I have been too lax with my studies. I’ll get started on memorizing a few verses tonight.”

  “You’re going to start with Genesis?” Dan asked. He glanced at the clock.

  She excused the incredulous note in his voice. She didn’t intend to memorize the whole thing tonight.

  “I’ll just read a few chapters—then go back and memorize those three verses a day you advocate.”

  “Genesis?” he repeated. “Couldn’t you start with something simpler—maybe the Beatitudes?”

  She thumbed to Genesis 1. “Oh … that’s all that ‘Blessed are’ stuff, isn’t it?”

  “Yes—”

  “I think I’ll just start with Genesis and work my way right up to that worrisome stuff.”

  “Revelation?”

  She nodded, smoothing the Bible’s worn, yellow pages into place. She read to chapter 5, her eyes widening. “My … there’re an awful lot of ‘begets’ in here, aren’t there?” She glanced at the clock.

  When Dan rolled up in his blanket, she was sitting at the table trying to memorize Genesis 1:1-3. Muttering under her breath, she squeezed her eyes shut, whispering, “‘In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.’ Verse 2: ‘And the earth …’”

  Pause.

  “Verse 1: ‘In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.’ Verse 2: ‘And the earth …’”

  Pause.

  “‘Was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep,’” Dan muttered sleepily from the other side of the stove. He pulled his pillow over his head.

  “Thank you. ‘And the earth …’”

  Pause.

  “Verse 1: ‘In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth… .’”

  “Hope, you have company.”

  Hope looked up at Dan’s soft announcement. It was still so early that the sun was barely visible through the broken windowpane. Luther’s intermittent snores resonated from behind his and Harriet’s closed door. “Me?”

  Parting the curtain a fraction more, Dan said softly. “It’s a young girl.”

  “It must be Fawn, the youngest Bennett girl. I spoke with her yesterday. Maybe she’s talked to her parents.” Quickly brushing her hair, Hope slipped into one of Harriet’s oversize coats and headed for the door.

  Dan was waiting for her, arms crossed. Wearing his coat now, he blocked her path. “You’re not going out there.”

  “But she wants to talk to me—she isn’t a threat.”

  “You’re not going out there alone.”

  Hope opened the door a fraction, and the pig squeezed around her. Dan lunged for the animal, but its fat backside was already waddling toward the open pen.

  Hurriedly stepping outside, Hope watched the old porker settle into the mudhole with a satisfied grunt. Dan trailed her onto the porch.

  “She won’t talk with you here,” Hope protested. “You’ll only intimidate her. Stay here.”

  Grasping her shoulders, he turned her toward the stand of cottonwoods. “What do you see over there?”

  “The Bennett boys.”

  “Holding what?”

  Hope squinted. “Rifles.”

  She turned to look at Fawn. The girl must have talked to her parents; otherwise she wouldn’t present herself so openly.

  Fawn waved, friendly-like. “It’s all right, ma’am! My brothers ain’t gonna shoot!”

  “What do you think?” Hope whispered. She followed Dan’s eyes back to the stand of trees. Four of Luther’s offspring stood leaning on their rifles, keeping an eye on the exchange.

  Dan’s voice brooked no nonsense. “I don’t trust them. Come back into the house.”

  Hope continued to study the situation. She didn’t trust them, either, but someone had to show a little faith, or the standoff would go on forever.

  “I’m going out there.”

  “Hope,” he warned, “you’re not to go out there.”

  Now the Bible says, “Wives, obey your husbands.” It doesn’t say a thing about women obeying government agents—leastwise not flat out. “Keep an eye on that pig,” she murmured. “If anything happens to her, we’re sunk.”

  Right now that old sow was the only thing standing between Luther and Lyndon and all-out war.

  Taking a deep breath, Hope walked to the edge of the yard where Fawn was huddled deep in a bedraggled jacket that might once have been red. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Fawn said as Hope approached. “Need to do some serious jawin’.”

  “All right.” Hope waited for the girl to put her thoughts in order.

  “Pa’s a knucklehead.”

  Hope felt a twinge of compassion. “You tried to talk to him about the feud?”

  “Yes’um. But he’s shore nuff a knucklehead.” Fawn shoved her hands deeper into the coat pockets. “He won’t listen to nary a word about a truce. Keeps jawin’ ’bout ‘an eye for an eye’ or somethin’ like that.”

  “He won’t even talk to his brother?”

  “No, ma’am. Says Uncle Luther’s an even bigger knucklehead than he is, and he don’t want nothin’ to do with that Nut Muffin.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  The girl brightened. “Did you have any better luck with Uncle Luther?”

  “No, your uncle’s an even bigger Nut Muffin—won’t even hear of a cease-fire.” She planned to broach the subject again at breakfast, but her expectation was slim that Luther had changed his mind overnight. “We’ll just have to pray about it. Papa always said God would supply our needs.”

  Fawn stood in the early morning light, tracing irregular patterns in the dew-covered grass with the tip of her scuffed boot. “Got me a plan.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes’um—iffen you’ll say it’s all right for me to try it.”

  It wasn’t Hope’s place to grant her permission to try anything, but she certainly wouldn’t stand in the way of progress.

  “I’m for peace at almost any cost.”

  Fawn broke into a wide grin. “Thank ya, ma’am! My plan ort to work—but iffen it shouldn’t, I want you to ’splain to the Lord that I done my best.”

  Smiling, Hope nodded. “I’ll tell him. What is this plan?” Would Fawn propose they trick the feuding brothers into meeting—make them sit down and talk about the situation like rational adults? Luther could be stubborn—and Lyndon … Her eyes shot to Fawn, who suddenly broke away and was now dashing headlong toward the pigpen. Lightning quick, the young girl released the wire hook and threw open the gate. Waving her arms and yelling at the top of her lungs, she charged the sow. “Sooooeeeee!”

  Startled, the old porker shot to its feet, making a beeline for the exit. Out of the pen it streaked, running faster than Hope thought her four squat legs could carry her.

  When the girl and the pig were halfway down the road, Fawn turned to yell over her shoulder. “Don’t be mad, ma’am! Now that Pa’s got his pig back, there ain’t no argument!”

  Hope’s jaw dropped when she realized that Fawn had outsmarted her!

  Bounding off the porch, Dan started after the pig. Shots sounded, and he turned in the middle of the yard and lunged toward Hope.

  Speechless, Hope watched the devious girl and the pig hightailing it toward home. Pig snorts gradually faded in the far distance; silence surrounded the barn lot.

  “Watch the pig, Dan,” Dan mimicked as he came to a skidding halt beside her.

  Hope slowly turned around to see the Bennett boys casually lift their rifles again and take aim.

  “Ohhh … ,” she murmured, “we are in so much trouble.”

  Chapte
r Eight

  John Jacobs glanced out the front window and groaned. There was that nosy Veda crossing the street toward the mercantile, carrying that infernal casserole basket. He set his jaw. This time, he was going to tell that woman to mind her own business. Whom he chose to marry was his doings, not the town’s, and certainly not Veda Fletcher’s.

  Why, the reason he’d placed that ad in the journal in the first place was so he could court a woman without the whole town knowing about it. As it was, he had had to woo Miss Kallahan by mail, and Megaline Harris, the postmistress, had told everyone in town that he was exchanging letters with some woman in Michigan.

  Some woman in Michigan. The very idea of referring to Miss Kallahan as “some woman.”

  Shouldering her way into the store, Veda set the basket on the counter. No doubt another gastric delight. John mentally cringed at the renewed determination in Veda’s eyes.

  “Afternoon, John.”

  “Afternoon, Veda.”

  “Looks like snow.”

  “Let’s think spring, Veda.”

  “Think it if you like, but we still get snow this late in the year. I’ve pulled tender young green onions out of snow many a time. Never took my stove down until first of June—ever.”

  Lord, forgive me for being so mean to poor Veda, but the woman gets on my nerves worse than chaffed thighs.

  But courtesy came first at the Jacobs Mercantile. The customer was always right, and Veda was a good customer—paid her bills on time and didn’t complain when a sugar shipment came in late.

  “I can’t stay long, John. Eudora and I are hanging new curtains this afternoon, but I had to see if you’d had any further news. Don’t think I’m nosy, now.”

  Veda nosy? Never.

  “News?”

  “Regarding your fiancée.”

  “No news—I’m expecting her any day now.” Even as he defended Hope Kallahan, he knew he was grasping at straws. If Hope were coming, she’d have been here by now. He had to face up to the fact that she’d gotten cold feet and wasn’t coming. Dear Lord. How could he face Veda and the town in his despair?

  “Oh. That’s a pity.” John could see it was all she could do to keep from turning handsprings. Veda tried to hide her joy. “Now, John. You wouldn’t be trying to fool the town, would you? You’ve told everyone that Miss Hope Kallahan is arriving any day, but we’ve not seen hide nor hair of her.”