"I'm almost done," she said as she began brushing her again.
"There can't be that much there. I wasn't on the ground that long."
"How did you get on the ground?" Becky asked.
"I...fell over when I backed away from the corral."
Becky giggled and Hannah turned and glared at her.
"And I suppose Adam was watching."
"Why would you ask that?"
"Why don't you admit you like him?"
"I do not!" Hannah cried.
"Oh, yes you do. Everyone -- your ma, your Uncle James, knows it but the two of you."
"And you're all talking about it?"
"We don't have to. We all got eyes."
"And you all think I'm sweet on Adam?"
"What's wrong with that? He's a kind, decent man. He'd make a good, sturdy husband."
But I don't want a good, sturdy husband, Hannah thought. I want someone who will share my dreams.
"Am I clean enough to go inside?" she said.
Becky put her hands on Hannah's shoulders.
"Hannah, don't let something real, something that would last, pass you by. It's hard being alone in the world. If a good man wants to be with you for the rest of your life, don't let some fool notion of a white knight cost you the one thing that will truly bring you happiness."
Hannah looked into Becky's eyes. She could see the sadness there, and wondered if Becky had let someone pass by.
"I won't," she said. "But do you truly think that Adam is that man?"
"What does your heart tell you?" Becky put her arm around Hannah's shoulders. "Come. Lunch is on the table."
Hannah looked over Becky's shoulder. Adam was still standing where she had left him. He was watching her as she and Becky went inside the house.
Chapter 43
The city of Denver was still recovering from the massive flood of 1896. Some of the shops on 16th Avenue were lost. Yvette had come to Denver with her husband shortly after the flood. She had been working for a dress designer in France when he met her and they married soon after.
He was a speculator who had struck it rich in silver. When he bought his young bride to the states, he said she would never have to work again. One day Yvette woke up and he was dead. The doctor performed an autopsy and said he had died of a stroke.
They had been married less than six months, and he hadn't changed his will. His relatives looked down on her, claiming she had been too much for the fifty-year-old Horace and his couplings with her had killed him. They turned her out of the house with one bag and one trunk, in which she had concealed a coin purse Horace had kept in his top dresser drawer. It contained two hundred silver dollars. It was enough to rent the abandoned pickle shop, clean it up, and create a ladies dress shop.
Yvette was a talented seamstress. She understood the ladies she catered to for she had worked as a ladies maid in France. She attended to Madam Renault, the mother of Jean-Pierre Renault. Yvette was twenty when she received the promotion from upstairs maid and was overjoyed. She hadn't counted on falling in love with Madam's handsome son, but when he began to pay attention to her, she soon found herself passionately in love with him. She became pregnant and when Madam Renault found out, she ordered Yvette to leave. She wouldn't give Yvette a reference and refused to give her her last week's wages. With nowhere to go and no money, Yvette threw herself off a bridge over the Seine. She survived the plunge but lost the baby.
She woke up in a hospital and was told her baby was gone. The nurse took pity on her and bought her clothes to wear and gave her the name of a friend who was looking for an apprentice for her dress shop. Yvette went to see the friend and was hired, and soon she discovered she had a flair for sewing. She stayed in the shop for six years, until the day Horace walked into the shop and swept her off her feet, Yvette thought she would be there forever.
Now, in the back room of her shop, waiting for Mrs. Dawes to pick up her new corset, she thought about Jean-Pierre. Even with a mustache and beard, she had recognized him. He hadn't recognized her, though. She was angry and hurt. She wanted to hurt him, too, but she didn't know how.
"Hello," Marian called from the front of the store.
Yvette pulled herself together and went to greet Marian.
"Mrs. Dawes, how nice to see you."
"Is it ready, Yvette?"
"Yes, I have it right here."
She turned and opened a drawer in the cabinet behind the display case. She brought out the corset and laid it on the counter. Marian appraised her stitches with envy.
"I've tried to sew like this, but I can never get them so even," she said.
"I have worked at it for many years," Yvette said. "I like to be perfect."
She smiled. There wasn't a hint of arrogance in her voice and Marian smiled in return.
"How much do I owe you?"
"Two dollars," Yvette said. She saw the look on Marian's face. Marian dressed like a lady, but she was biting her lower lip. "Is that too much?"
"No, of course not," Marian said. "I...haven't bought one in a long time and had forgotten how dear they are."
She pulled two dollars from her purse and gave them to Yvette.
"Thank you, Madam," Yvette said.
Marian smiled as she picked up the bag with the corset and looked at Yvette.
"Thank you, dear," she said.
"Please come again."
"I most certainly will."
Jean had spent a week in his room out of fear someone would recognize him. He knew he was being foolish; he had a beard now and didn't look anything like the picture on the poster. He was sick of being cooped up and decided to visit the lovely Frenchwoman he'd met a week before. He would avoid the drug store.
He was strolling down 16th Avenue when he saw Marian Dawes exiting the shop. He changed his plans and began to follow Marian. He saw her stop in front of the dry goods store, where a man was waiting for her. He had a full mustache and his hair was streaked with gray. Marian put her arm through his and they walked to the train station.
He saw them board a train and Jean asked the ticket clerk where the train was going.
The man looked up and said, "High Bend."
Chapter 44
Tom Beasley had taught Hannah how to drive the carriage, but James wouldn't let her go alone. There was a rough, wooded stretch between the ranch and High Bend, and James didn't like the idea of a young woman, or any woman for that matter, riding through it alone. Ruffians had been known to lie in wait for unsuspecting travelers there, so, James would accompany her when she went to town. Hannah resented being treated that way, but she also understood the rules of society. Even if the road had been safe, James still would have accompanied his unmarried niece to town.
It was getting harder for Hannah to accept the restrictions placed upon her by society. She didn't blame James for adhering to them, nor did she feel animosity toward her mother when she told Hannah that once she married, she would have to put her painting aside to raise children. Marian told her a man expected certain things from his wife, and while painting was a nice hobby for wealthy women with servants, a girl in Hannah's position didn't have hobbies. More than likely, Hannah would have the sole responsibility of caring for her children and keeping her house. Before Mr. Ross lost her money, Marian had felt differently. Hannah would have come out in Philadelphia and met a man suited to a girl in her situation.
As Marian resigned herself to Hannah's station in life, she asked Becky to teach her the womanly arts in preparation for that day when she would marry. Hannah had been raised by Becky and had heard her women's suffrage speeches all her life. She had spent hours in Becky's kitchen watching her cook, clean, can, and organize. During those long days of summer when she wasn't at the beach with John Liberty, Hannah stayed in the kitchen helping Becky. She believed she would marry John one day, and his parents were not rich.
"You'll be raising your own children if you marry that man," Becky told her when young Hannah boasted she would ma
rry him even if she had to ask him herself. "You'll be doing just what I'm doing, so you might as well do it right. I want you to know, though, you don't have to marry at all. A woman is perfectly capable of taking care of herself."
This news contradicted everything the girl had been taught since birth. Women who took care of themselves were usually prostitutes or spinsters. They were poor women who were looked down upon by society, or were ridiculed and abused by men. Hannah was expected to marry, and at eleven, she was eager to be John's wife.
At eighteen, however, she saw things differently. She wasn't going to marry unless the man shared her dreams. He would have to be educated and understand that her painting was important to her. She would have a child, of course, but Louise, who had been introduced by Margaret Mason to some bohemian artists living in a Point Pleasant, New Jersey artists' colony, told Hannah that one of the women, a free spirit named Sylvia, had told her it was possible to prevent a child from being conceived. Hannah had been shocked. It was scandalous to discuss such things, but Louise had been exposed to people who lived the way they chose, and it had changed her. She laughed at Hannah's astonishment and assured her it didn't make her a fallen woman just to hear about conjugal relations.
Now, with time passed and the reality of her situation settling in, she was glad she knew there was a way to limit her family to one child. She could devote herself to them by showing them they could be anything they wanted to be and by teaching them to paint, draw, sculpt -- whatever they wanted to learn. They would paint together on the little hill and she would tell them of her life in New Jersey and of making sand castles on the beach. They would visit the museums in Denver and stare in wonder at the magnificent colors the artists used to bring their paintings to life. She didn't notice that her "husband" seemed absent when she daydreamed this way.
It was harder for Hannah to imagine a man she would want to marry. The ranch was full of men, but none of them, save one, made her heart soar. Becky had come right out and asked her if she liked Adam, and Hannah had balked at the idea. Then she went to her room and watched him from her bedroom window as he stood by the pump and took off his shirt, washed himself, then went to James' for supper. She hadn't meant to stare, but he looked good. She felt disappointed when he walked away.
That was the moment she understood that she was attracted to him and now her interactions with him had grown awkward. After that, she had to admit to herself that she had felt superior toward him, that his comments had annoyed her because she felt he was beneath her. One day following the understanding, as she stood in Becky's kitchen pulling the gizzards out of a chicken, she realized she and Adam were equals. When he came to dinner and ate that chicken, she noticed how he looked at her across the table and knew that he felt awkward, too.
But Adam was a simple man. He was content to be what he was and had no ambition to be anything else. A man like that would expect her to obey him and conform to the role of "wife." He would make her give up her dreams as if being his mate fulfilled her. She knew all this even though she'd never had a conversation with Adam that didn't end with her stomping off in indignation.
Sometime during the last week or so, Hannah had concluded that even though she found him attractive, Adam wasn't the man for her. He was kind, yes, and she believed he'd be true, but she had bound herself to a man she didn't feel passionate about once before and she wouldn't settle for less again.
When she walked outside to leave for town, Adam was standing by the wagon. He had hitched James' horse, Ulysses, to the front and was holding the reins. Hannah hadn't expected to see him and was taken aback by his presence. She stood on the porch and looked at him. She couldn't think of anything to say. She didn't understand her reaction because she had decided he wasn't the man for her. Why did he continue to affect her this way?
"Mornin'," he said.
"Morning," she replied.
The word caught in her throat. Why was her throat so dry? She turned and went back into the house. She went to the kitchen and poured water from the pitcher Becky kept full into a glass and drank it.
"Don't drink too much or you'll have to visit the public privy," Becky said. She wrinkled her nose in disdain.
"I'll be fine," Hannah said. "I just had a frog in my throat."
As she left the kitchen, Jimmy bounded down the stairs.
"Uncle James said I could come," he said.
"Good. You need a haircut," she said.
"I do not," Jimmy said.
"But you'll get one anyway because I said so."
"You know what, Hannah? Since we moved here, you've become mean."
He stomped away, leaving her to ponder his words. Had she become mean? She went to the porch and saw Jimmy with Adam. He was playfully punching Adam. Adam was pretending to punch him back. Jimmy was laughing until he turned and saw Hannah. His smile faded and he climbed into the wagon. Adam's face looked sad, too, as though he had been caught stealing a cookie from his mother's pantry.
She smiled. She walked over and as she climbed into the wagon, Adam put out his hand to help her. The urge to tell him she could do it herself rose up inside, but she stifled it and took his hand.
"Thank you, Adam," she said.
"You're welcome," he replied.
She looked at him and saw a small smile creasing his lips. He truly was a nice man. She also felt a stirring in her stomach. He held his hat in his hand. In the bright sunlight, his hair had red highlights. She had never noticed it before.
He usually wears his hat, she thought. That must be why I didn't see it.
"I wanted to tell you," he said, "that I liked that painting in your Ma's parlor."
Marian had hung Jimmy's painting of the ocean in the parlor. Hannah didn't know Jimmy didn't want anyone to know he was a painter. Jimmy jumped up.
"Hannah paints good," he said.
"But it's not..."
"She's the best painter in the world," Jimmy said loudly.
Jimmy was standing behind her and she turned her head to look at him. His look said, please don't say anything.
"Yes, the parlor, I remember now," she said. "I'm glad you liked it."
"I felt like I was there," Adam said. "Is that what it's like in New Jersey?"
"It is where we lived," Hannah said. "We were right near the ocean."
"I've never seen the ocean," Adam said.
"It's big," Jimmy said.
"I'm sure it is, partner," Adam replied.
James came out of his house and walked to the wagon. He climbed in next to Hannah and took the reins.
"Anything more we need?" he asked Adam.
"Nope. You got the list?"
"Yup. We'll be back before supper."
Adam watched the wagon pull away and stayed until they were out of sight. He loved seeing Hannah's hair in the sunlight. He was glad she wasn't one of those girls who wore a hat all the time. She had such beautiful hair.
Chapter 45
High Bend was not a big town, but it had a train station. Goods came in from Denver regularly so if you needed something, you could order it from Healy's Dry Goods and have it within a week. Hannah had ordered some new paint brushes. Hers were starting to shed, leaving pieces of brush on her canvas. She also ordered some canvases.
A week ago, James had surprised Marian by giving her half the money he had inherited from their parents. He felt it was the right thing to do. Their father had arranged Marian's marriage to Randall Dawes, and both men had left her high and dry. Being with Marian again had revived James's affection for her. She was a decent, kind woman who didn't deserve her fate.
She had refused to take the money, saying it was his and she would be fine. She spoke out of pride, but James soon persuaded her to accept, if for no other reason than to provide for her children's needs.
"You can buy Hannah that dress for the Social," he said.
"How did you know about that?" Marian asked.
"I saw her looking at it in Healy's."
Marian
had set up an account with Healy's and now if the children went with James to town, they could buy what they needed without her presence. She trusted their judgment.
She also gave them each ten silver dollars for their pocket and purse. She gave Becky one hundred dollars, which she also politely refused.
"Put it aside for your old age," Marian told her, and Becky, seeing the wisdom of her words, finally accepted the money and put it under her mattress. She didn't trust banks.
Hannah loved to walk into Healy's because Mrs. Healy made scented soaps and displayed them at the front of the store. They smelled of roses, lavender, and vanilla. The scent was strong as you walked in the front door, and Hannah would rush to the display, pick one up, and hold it under her nose. Now she could afford to buy one, too!
"Good morning, Mr. Healy," she said as she approached the counter.
Mr. Healy was a tall, thin man. His face resembled that of a basset hound and he always looked sad. His eyes, however, belied his appearance and twinkled when he saw Hannah.
"I got them things you ordered," he said.
"Will you hold them here until we're done shopping?" she asked.
"Will do. You look real pretty today, Miss Hannah," he said.
She smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Healy."
"I bet you'll be going to the dance," he said. "My wife ordered new dresses for the gals in town."
"Are they in the back?" Hannah asked.
"Yup, straight back."
She smiled and turned away. She walked right into Mrs. Healy, who was glaring at her husband. He was a bit loose with the females who came into the store, and she always had to keep her eye on him.
"I'm sorry," Hannah said.
She went around Mrs. Healy and walked away. She could see the dresses and made a beeline for them. The one she had admired was still there -- an ivory cotton dress with yellow rosebuds and green leaves embroidered on fabric. It was a fine cotton and the fabric had a sheen that made it look like silk. James came up to her and put his hand on her shoulder.
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