by Reina Torres
“The men sew?”
Again, Mademoiselle made her opinion known and Tillie felt the uncomfortable pinch between her shoulder blades, which was quickly becoming a common occurrence in her ongoing relationship with the older woman.
“I hardly see why a working man would waste his time on such a pursuit. The division of labor between a man and woman must be strictly protected and adhered to.”
Mademoiselle started to expand on her explanation and Tillie could see what a struggle it was for the ladies to hide their feelings. So, she did what she could and interjected her own thoughts.
“I find it fascinating.”
Tillie heard the indrawn breath of her companion and saw the spark in Anna’s eyes.
“Wyeth’s hand is better than mine at stitching. Don’t you think so, Mama?”
Mrs. Hawkins nodded at her daughter before turning to look at Tillie. “If Anna were to take more interest in her stitches, they would vastly improve.”
“I am a good student,” Anna declared. “I read and write a good hand. I know my numbers and ‘rithmatic.”
“Hardly necessary for a young woman outside of the household accounts.” Mademoiselle was at least keeping her interest in the conversation.
Thankfully Anna didn’t seem to notice.
“But what I really love are horses!” She clasped her hands together as if she were sitting in a pew. “Papa said I have a good head for business and could own my own livery someday if that is what I decided upon.”
Tillie felt her heart swell again in her chest. “I love horses too!”
A soft cluck of dismay came from Mademoiselle’s vicinity. “Dirty, wretched things.”
Anna rolled her eyes before she could stop herself and Tillie had to stifle a laugh. She was thankful that Mademoiselle didn’t see the gesture. “Maybe the stage horses,” Anna volunteered, “but Papa has always said that a well-cared for horse is worth its weight in gold.”
Tillie felt her cheeks flush with a girlish glee. “How many horses do you have? Are they all the same color? Can you pet them like a puppy? I would so like to pet one.” And then she went silent. Silent enough to hear the clock ticking half a room away.
She kept her eyes level, avoiding Wyeth’s eyes. Heaven knows she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of him. While she had no hope of attracting a handsome man like him, she didn’t want to appear to be a complete ninny in his presence either. “I am sorry.” She caught Anna’s laughing eyes and knew that the other young woman wasn’t making fun of her. Her girlish features were full of joy. Perhaps they were more alike than she thought. “I didn’t mean to let my words get away from me.”
Mademoiselle’s support came in the form of a verbal comment, even as her tone held a note of reproach. “I’m sure Miss Weston is still exhausted from our travels.”
“If I may,” Wyeth turned his attention and his charm in the direction of the Station Mistress. “I’d like to make a peace offering of sorts.” Olivia nodded for him to continue. “When you ladies are done with tea, I’d be happy to take your guests to view the stables. I think they’d both be pleased to see the excellent care we take of our horses.”
Anna, of course, could be counted on to add her own encouragement. She may be just a year or two younger than Tillie herself, but Anna’s joy was a palpable thing. “Oh, please do say yes, Ottille… you’ll love the horses; I promise!”
“You don’t have to convince me,” Tillie reassured her. “I think horses are magnificent. I would love to tour the stables, that is,” Tillie sat back on the settee and turned her gaze to Mademoiselle. She waited to see what the other woman’s response would be. She’d already tested the boundaries by speaking first, but she was so very curious to see the horses in the stable. Turning to look at Mademoiselle she almost dreaded seeing the look on her face.
“I will not condone the idea of you disappearing with any young man for any length of time.”
Wyeth’s smile brightened the room. “My invitation was for both of you.”
“And me!” Anna shifted on the seat and grabbed at the arm of the settee. “You’ll take me too!”
“Anna!” Olivia gaped at her youngest. “Young lady, you don’t just invite yourself along!”
“It’s more than fine with me, Missus Hawkins. I imagine that the others will be jealous that I get to spend time with three ladies.”
Something suspiciously like a ‘harrumph’ came from Tillie’s companion.
“Please, Mademoiselle.” She waited a moment and decided to offer the one inducement that she knew the other woman couldn’t turn down. “If you agree to tour the barn, I promise you that I will whole-heartedly practice my French tonight for an entire hour.” She could see a spark of interest in her eyes but it wasn’t enough, yet. “And tomorrow?”
“Je suis d’accord.” Mademoiselle nodded and turned to look at Wyeth. “You’ll let us finish our tea first? I’ll need to fortify myself for this horrific undertaking.”
Tillie saw Wyeth’s expression ease into a relaxed grin as he met her eyes. She picked up her fan and let it fall open before she fluttered it lightly before her. Goodness, she smiled back, he is a prepossessing man.
“Wyeth?”
He turned to look at Olivia, his eyes shining. “Yes, ma’am?”
“You know where my sewing basket is. Go get a needle and thread and secure your button while we finish tea.”
He placed his hand over his heart. “Yes, ma’am.”
And then he was gone and Tillie found she could breathe again.
Chapter 3
Wyeth was still trying to catch his breath.
Miss Weston. Ottille Weston. His mind struggled to wrap itself around her name, but he was certainly willing to try. And try. And try, as long as it took to be able to say it without stumbling.
Absently he tugged on his sleeve, giving the button a forlorn look. It was handily done if he did say so himself. He’d even done the stitching with the shirt on. He didn’t want to chance walking back to the bunkhouse to change and miss the chance to see her again.
He tried to think of things to say that even the lady in gray would think decent or permissible.
Goodness.
She looked at him as if he was a speck of something on her sleeve, but no matter how she glared or stared, Wyeth was determined to outlast her cold regard. It was worth facing her, or anything or anyone else, to spend a few more minutes in Miss Weston’s company.
A nagging thought tried to push through his poetic musings, but he ignored it.
He liked his life the way it was, full of action and fun. He liked his friends and he liked the food served up at the station.
He had enough of a challenge to keep him busy and tamp down the pangs of sorrow at missing his family.
And now, there was Ottille, whose pretty smile and dark coloring was the near opposite to his. What an odd picture they’d make walking together down the street.
Dark and light, woman and man-
The front door opened and Wyeth was suddenly on his feet, dusting off his clothing with a quick series of short smacks of his palm on sleeves and legs.
He opened his mouth to offer a greeting and was dismayed to have his voice stuck in his throat.
“Well, hello there, Wyeth.”
He was given a reprieve as Anna swung open the door. She gave him a quick look from head to toe and gave him a nod of approval.
One worry gone.
Voices followed after her, and Ottille emerged from the house. Her blue skirt billowed and pushed against the shorter length of Anna’s and before she could say anything, Anna took her hand and tugged her toward the stairs.
They stopped at the edge and looked down on him. Her hair caught the golden sunlight and showed its color to be midnight black instead of a darker brown, and he wondered how he might find some jeweled clips and see if they would sparkle like stars against the backdrop of her hair. It would certainly be worth the expense.
Wy
eth smiled up at the two ladies and let out a sigh of relief at the sight. “Lovely.”
Ottille blushed and Anna beamed down at him. “See?” Anna proclaimed in an almost-hush. “I told you he was smart.”
“I have excellent sight as well,” he reminded the young woman who was a sister of his heart. “Are we ready to tour the barn?”
A soft groan of sound behind the ladies had the three biting back laughs.
“Let us see this… barn before I come to my senses.” Mademoiselle stepped up to the edge of the porch and squinted out into the sunlight. “It’s not far, is it?”
Olivia stepped up beside her and gave her an encouraging smile. “Just to that building there.”
Pressing her hand to her tightly-corseted middle, the companion paled. “Mon dieu! How many floors does it have?”
Wyeth saw the pointed look on Olivia’s face and stepped forward to offer an arm to the older woman. “Just the main floor, Madame, and then the hay loft.” He felt her fingers dig into his arm in reflex. “Don’t fret, ladies. The ladder is no place for your fine shoes, and I’d worry that you’d catch your hem and tumble down, so the bottom floor is all you’ll see today.”
Mademoiselle eased her hold on his arm, and she followed his lead down the steps.
At the base, he held out his other arm to Ottille. “Miss Weston?”
Her pale skin flushed with color, giving her a rather becoming blush to the roots of her hair. “Shouldn’t you offer your arm to Anna first?”
Anna shuddered visibly. “I love him like a brother, but Wyeth walks too slowly for me. I’ll be an old woman before we get to the end of the first row.” Anna leaned forward to look at Mademoiselle. “No offense, ma’am.”
Her complexion seemed to match the color of her gown as Mademoiselle pried her lips apart to reply. “None taken, Miss Hawkins.”
Sensing the tension between them, Wyeth let loose his brightest smile, as he once again offered his arm to Ottille. When she took it, sliding her hand around the inside of his elbow, he struggled not to grin like a mad man and scare the women, but with just a little bitty touch through the thick cotton shirting, he was feeling mighty fine. Mighty fine indeed.
Tillie wondered if she looked like a simpleton. Since they’d stepped inside the barn, all she had done was stare at her surroundings taking it all in.
“Miss Weston,” came the reminder, “close your mouth, please.”
Goodness. How embarrassing.
“Pardon, Mademoiselle.”
“Manners,” the woman reminded her in perfect English, making Tillie’s shame a more palpable thing.
Tillie felt Wyeth shrug, drawing her attention to him.
“I know the feeling,” his voice was soft, his smile was earnest, and she felt the soft brush of his shirt under her palm. “The first time I walked into the livery barn I nearly fell over with shock! Back home,” his voice rose a bit in volume even though his tone said he was imparting something that was as dear as a secret, “we had a lean-to that William and I helped our Papa put up. We had a horse in there at first and then when Papa passed away, we traded the horse for a donkey.”
Anna skipped ahead and stopped to turn and give him a curious look. “Why would you do that?”
Beside her, Wyeth shrugged, but Tillie could have sworn she saw the smile on his lips dim just the littlest bit.
“It was the right thing to do at the time. I was the only one who could ride the horse and Mama needed to take the cart to the store for supplies while I was working. The donkey pulled the cart and kept her arms free to tend to Willa.”
She heard the way his voice softened and smiled. “Your sister?”
He nodded and Tillie leaned a little closer. “She’s the baby of the family. I have an older sister, Elizabeth. She’ll make me an uncle before the new year.” His smile softened again. “I’ll need to find a suitable gift for the baby and send it to her, but I’ve little taste in such matters.”
Tillie spoke before she thought her words through. “I would be more than happy to help you.”
Wyeth seemed shocked for a moment and then quickly sputtered out his agreement. “That would be such a help. I doubt I have any concept of what a baby would need.”
“And I doubt,” Mademoiselle leaned forward to engage her charge with a pointed look, “it would be seemly for a young woman to help a young man make such a personal purchase, if they were not affianced. Most people would find it a declaration unsuitable for-” on an indrawn breath, Mademoiselle ceased speaking. Her complexion turned a pale greenish-white as she fished through her reticule to remove her handkerchief and hold it tight to her nose. “It’s certainly… pungent.”
The nearest horse pushed against the stall door and tossed its head.
“Aww,” Wyeth chuckled, “I think you hurt her feelings.”
It was Mademoiselle’s turn to balk. “Her? I hardly think that a horse would have feelings.”
Something banged against the other side of the stall door and Ottille leaned closer to Wyeth. It took her a second to realize that she had clutched his arm tightly against her chest. She started in shock and pulled away slightly. Wyeth was watching her intently through the haphazard fall of his hair. “Oh, goodness,” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry, “I am sorry for clutching at you.”
His smile was immediate, but it was the way he looked at her that commanded her attention. “Don’t think I would stop you if you did it again, Miss Weston. If you’re afraid, don’t be. Sassafras here just doesn’t like folks thinking she’s not the sharpest horse in the string.”
The pony tossed her head and pulled her lips back to show her teeth.
Wyeth cleared his throat. “Her smile does leave something to be desired, but it’s better than her trying to take a chunk out of me because she’s jealous.”
“Jealous?” Tillie felt something flutter inside her chest. “Why would she be jealous?”
Wyeth opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he intended to say was lost in a loud explosion of sound. Mademoiselle lurched away from him and the sudden pull on his arm threw him off balance.
“Oh, Mademoiselle!” Tillie also let go of Wyeth’s arm and rushed to her companion. “Are you-”
Before she could finish her question, the older woman sneezed again and Tillie’s concern was mixed in with a little sympathetic humor. Mademoiselle seemed to sneeze in French, just as well as she spoke the romantic language. Another quick succession of sneezes followed, and when they seemed to subside, Tillie reached for her arm.
“Made-”
Another loud sneeze seemed to echo in Tillie’s ears.
“Pardon,” the older woman wheezed in a shaking voice, “I do not quite understand why-”
A breeze kicked up and blew through the barn, flowing over a stack of hay by the other entrance.
Another round of sneezes shook the woman and made her press the back of her hand over her nose.
“I must go,” she turned to Tillie. “I should go inside.”
“Oh, I’ll take you!” Anna bounded up and took the older woman’s arm with one hand and gave her a few gentle pats on her back with the other. “You might just be sensitive to the hay. How horrible!”
Tillie’s companion gave the younger woman a long-suffering look. “I have no affinity for horses,” she divulged what none of the others in the barn would consider a secret. “I wish to clean my face and hands, s’il vous plait.”
As Anna’s brow furrowed, Tillie offered the translation. “If you please.”
“Ah,” she grinned, “I’ll have to remember that one for later. Come, Ma’am, we’ll get you seated up on the porch and in the shade. Perhaps you can close your eyes for a bit.” She easily guided Mademoiselle out of the barn as the older woman looked all too eager to leave behind the massive quantity of hay and more than a score of horses kept in the building.
It was a long moment after the two left, before Tillie turned to look at Wyeth. It wasn’t lost on her that she wa
s alone, with a handsome young man.
Alone and nervous. Nervous… or excited? Timid? Uneasy? Her mind kept offering suggestions, turning her thoughts into a jumble.
“You’re thinkin’ awful hard there, Miss Weston.”
“Better than hardly thinking, Mr. Bowles.” She turned with a smile and then felt it falter on her lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” He cocked his head to the side and looked at her with open curiosity. “Why would you be sorry?”
“I get a little distracted from time to time,” her smile faltered a bit, “it drives Mademoiselle to distraction.”
“You mean it makes her really angry.”
Tillie nodded. “It happens quite a bit.”
“Her being angry or you being distracted?”
She thought over the question and finally came up with the answer. She met his eyes and smiled. “Both.”
Wyeth nodded and she couldn’t help the way her smile lifted the corners of her mouth higher. He made it so easy to smile. “Then maybe I can distract you for a bit so you won’t think about us bein’ alone.”
Another flush colored her cheeks. “Oh, I’m not sure that you could get me to forget that.”
A mischievous light sparked in his eyes. “Ah, a challenge.” He leaned a hair closer, lowering his voice as if telling her a secret. “I like a challenge.” He took a step closer to the horse at the front of the barn and she settled a bit, leaning against the door, lowering her head.
Tillie stood in place, holding her breath. She didn’t think the horse would hurt Wyeth. She didn’t think anyone would try. He was just such a sweet person.
Wyeth stepped closer and dodged the horse’s mouth as she tried to nip at his hair. Shoving her long nose away, he laughed, and Tillie felt a light floating feeling that rose up into her throat.
Instead of stepping away, Wyeth put his back to the stall door and reached his arm up. He wrapped his arm around the broad jaw of the horse and threaded his fingers through the mane just below her ears. The horse obviously wanted him close as well, leaning down until her cheek lay lightly on the top of his head and her eyes closing slightly as if a scratch behind her ears was the greatest feeling in the world.