by Lucy Evanson
Cora tried to pay attention, but her gaze drifted down from the pastor to her cousin, sitting there up front where nobody could miss her. Cora could almost feel her stomach churn, and this time at least she was sure it had nothing to do with the whiskey she’d had the night before. There was something more to it than that, something that was building up inside as she watched Emma’s head bob in agreement with the pastor as he spoke. She couldn’t lie to herself; there was a bit of jealousy that she was feeling as she watched Emma with her family. Emma’s husband reminded her of nothing so much as a meek gray mouse, and the kids had always been little demons, but she was jealous all the same.
More than that, though, was the feeling that things just weren’t fair. So what if she weren’t married? Why should that have mattered as much as it did? Why was it too late for her?
Too late. The thought rushed through her like a cold wind. There was nothing she could do regarding her uncle’s estate. After yesterday, that much was obvious. But even beyond that, she could suddenly envision the path that the rest of her life would take, and it was a slow, solitary descent. Every year would be harder, every winter colder, every failure more bitter, and she had only her own bad choices to blame. It was too late for her.
She felt her eyes sting as tears built up, and she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. What am I even doing here? It was so silly, really. She had come for guidance, when she already knew that things were hopeless. She had come hoping for a miracle, but miracles didn’t happen for women like her.
She spent the next hour desperately trying to maintain her composure, wiping away the occasional tear, and hoping that nobody would notice. Her attention had drifted again when a chorus of “Amen” erupted around her, and she looked up to see Pastor Marshall walking down the aisle to say goodbye to the parishioners as they departed. Cora stood up quickly, hoping to make an early exit, but the aisle had been flooded with people eager to begin the potluck. She turned to go the other way and found the way blocked as well by the many women hovering over the potluck dishes, preparing things for the lunch. Cora let out a sigh and sat down again; there was no reason to try and rush out of the pew just to stand in the crowd.
By the time the others had finally cleared out and Cora got to her feet again, she was the last person to leave the church. As she neared the door, the pastor’s face split open in a wide grin.
“Why, Cora Rice, this is a wonderful surprise,” he said, shaking her hand. “I’m so happy to see you here today.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Yeah, it was nice. I’ll have to come back again next week.”
Still holding her hand, he looked at her closely. “You know, you don’t have to wait until Sunday. I’m always here if you need somebody to talk to.”
“I know, thanks.”
“I’m serious,” he said. His voice dropped and he leaned a bit closer. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were upset. Now, my sermons have been known to bore people to tears, but I hope that wasn’t the case for you this morning.”
She smiled slightly, hoping that her eyes weren’t still as red as she suspected. “Not at all. I just have some…some personal problems.”
He nodded. “Okay, I won’t pry,” he said. “Just remember, I’m always available. Now let’s go have some lunch.”
“Oh, I think I’ll just head back home,” she said. “I didn’t even bring anything.”
“Nonsense,” he said, taking her by the elbow and steering her around the corner. “We’ve got everything all set up out back; you just help yourself and don’t worry about a thing. There’s plenty for everybody,” he said, pointing to the long tables set up behind the church.
He wasn’t kidding. If there was one thing that the parishioners knew how to do, it was cook. Every square inch of the tables had been covered with platters and bowls, and it didn’t take much doing to convince Cora to fix herself a plate. She took a piece of fried chicken, some potato salad, and two buttermilk biscuits slathered with butter. She decided not to try Emma’s cornbread.
Taking a seat at one of the empty tables, she had barely taken her first bite when a shadow fell over her.
“How are you doing this morning, Cora?”
She looked up and saw a man about her age standing there, holding a plate of food. He was a handsome young man, if a bit on the thin side, with black hair and dark eyes, and he was smiling as if he knew her.
“I’m fine,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m doing all right,” he said. “Do you remember me?”
“Honestly, no,” she said. “Have we met?”
“No, not formally.” He set down his plate and stuck out his hand. “I’m Nathan Larrimore. I was in the bar last night; I tried to help you up, but, uh…you didn’t need it.”
“Oh, of course,” she said, quickly shaking hands. Just great. Now my cheeks are probably bright red. Oh well, at least they match my eyes.
“Do you mind if I join you?” The question was a bit late, as he had swung his leg over the bench and was sitting down already. “I was actually sitting over there but then I saw you sitting all alone.”
“Well, I’m not what you’d call a regular parishioner here,” she said. “I don’t know many people.”
“Yeah, it’s actually my first time here,” he said. “I really just came for the food,” he added, lowering his voice. “Have you tried the mashed potatoes?” He dug in and shoveled a forkful into his mouth. “They’re terrific!”
“Look, I’m sorry if I snapped at you last night,” Cora said, picking at her own plate. “I’m normally a much nicer person than that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I could see you had a lot going on. Mmm, cornbread,” he murmured, and Cora watched as he took a big bite. As he chewed, his eyes dimmed and his smile faded. “Good Lord, that’s dry,” he said, putting the rest off to the side. “Anyway, when I saw you this morning, I knew I had to come over to say hello. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again after last night, but I’d almost consider it an omen, running into you again. After all, I’m leaving town today. Excuse me for a second,” he said, and he stood up.
Cora watched as he returned to the buffet, refilling his plate with ham, green beans and a huge scoop of apple Brown Betty. He was fairly well-dressed, though his clothes showed signs of wear. Not that I’m anybody to judge, she thought. He had first struck her as thin, but looking again, he seemed simply lean. Tall and in good shape. Nothing wrong with that.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you were here for the food,” she said when he had returned to the table.
“I’ve got a long way to go,” he said. “I’m headed back home to Plainfield. How about you? Are you from around here?”
“Yeah, I’m from Mineral Point. Born and raised here,” she said. They fell quiet for a moment as they ate. Almost an omen, he had said. “So, do you have a wife waiting for you back home?”
A green bean hung out of his mouth, dangling in midair like a cigarette. Nathan chewed slowly, drawing it in until the end disappeared between his lips and he swallowed it down. “Uh, no, I’m not married,” he said.
Cora glanced around. There was nobody close enough to hear, but she still lowered her voice and leaned over the table. “Look, there’s no good way for me to ask this except straight out. Would you get married to me?”
Nathan stared at her as if she were a crazy woman.
“Come again?”
“Married. I need to get married as soon as possible, and I want you to be my husband.”
Nathan looked down at his plate and stabbed a thick piece of ham, forcing the entire thing into his mouth. “Look, Cora,” he mumbled through the food. “You seem like a real nice girl. Even last night, the first time I saw you, I thought you were beautiful. I’m sure you’ll get married someday.” He scooped up a forkful of Brown Betty. “But I can’t marry a girl I only just met.” He stood up and stepped back from the table. “You have a good day now,” he said, and he tur
ned to go.
“I can pay you,” she called.
He stopped, standing motionless for a long moment before he turned back to her. “What did you say?”
“I can pay you if you help me out,” she said.
Nathan returned to the bench and sat down again. “How much?”
Cora swallowed hard. “Five thousand dollars.”
He couldn’t keep his eyes from growing wide. “You can’t be serious,” he said. “You have five thousand dollars?”
“Not yet,” she said. “But I’m going to get it. I need to show up at a lawyer’s office in Dodgeville on Tuesday morning with a husband. If I do, then I get an inheritance. A big one. I’ll pay you as soon as I get the money.”
“So you want me to be your husband…on credit?”
“Pretty much.”
Nathan sat back a bit, then seemed to remember that there was a half-finished plate of food in front of him. He took another bite of ham and rubbed his eyes.
“How long would we be married?”
“Just until I get my money,” she said.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It doesn’t seem right, getting married just for money like that.”
“Believe me, I wasn’t looking to get hitched either. But this could do us both some good. We get married, I pay you, we get a divorce, then we both live happily ever after. Separately,” she said.
“Five thousand?”
“Five thousand,” Cora said.
He looked down and studied his fraying shirt cuffs for a long moment, then raised his face to hers. “Miss Cora, will you marry me?”
She was flooded with relief, like a drowning woman who bobs to the surface when all hope had seemed lost. “Oh, thank God,” she said, jumping to her feet. “You’ll be glad you did this. Now I’ve got to go find Joe Tibbs; he’s a justice of the peace and he owes me a favor. I’m going to see if he can marry us tomorrow.”
“All right,” Nathan said. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to hang back here and finish this ham.”
“You do whatever you want,” she said. “Just keep your mouth shut, don’t say anything about our arrangement, and meet me at ten o’clock tomorrow morning in front of the town hall. You got that?”
“Ten o’clock.”
“Good.” Cora turned and headed for the road, then stopped in her tracks. She turned back and made her way through the parishioners until she arrived at the table where Emma and her family were sitting.
“I’m leaving now, Emma,” she said. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Now isn’t that sweet,” Emma said. “Well, you have a good day, Cora. By the way, I saw you sitting with a man over there. Who is he?”
Cora looked over her shoulder to where Nathan was making his way through the buffet line for the third time. “Him? Oh, he’s my husband.” She watched the color drain from Emma’s face as her jaw dropped to her chest. “You have a good day too.”
And with that, Cora turned and quickly walked off, making her way to the road and heading back toward town.
Chapter 4
For once, Nathan woke up even before Mrs. Grady was in the hall with her cowbell. Five thousand dollars. It was almost too much to believe, and he had fallen asleep the night before thinking about all the things he could do with that much money. It would be life-changing, no doubt about it.
For now, however, he still didn’t have it, and nothing at all had changed. He was still in his tiny room with the drafty window and scratchy wool blanket, and he counted himself lucky to be there. He had had a hell of a time convincing Mrs. Grady to let him stay a few more days for free until he got his money, and that was without any meals included. He patted his belly. Good thing he’d been to the potluck; between what he’d eaten there and what he’d stuffed into his pockets, he’d finally gone to bed with a full stomach, and he still wasn’t hungry in the slightest.
Sooner or later, however, he’d have to eat. That could be a problem. Cora had lent him a few coins, so he might be able to just wait and buy himself a late lunch somewhere that could tide him over until the next day and he got his money. Of course, then there might be other problems that could crop up along the way; he didn’t know for sure, but if marriage were perfect then they wouldn’t have invented divorce. He hadn’t really spent much time thinking about things before telling Cora that he’d marry her, and lying there in his chilly room, he suddenly wondered if he’d made a huge mistake.
If he had, there was plenty of time to correct his error. He could just pack his bag and set out for the highway. He could be out of Mineral Point by nine, out of Iowa County by three, and home to Plainfield in only a couple of days, avoiding any sort of entanglement from the get-go.
But then, what kind of reception was he going to get arriving home empty-handed like that? After shooting his mouth off about how he was going to make his fortune, it certainly wouldn’t do to come home with nothing to show for his journey but blistered feet. And it wasn’t like Plainfield would be able to offer him anything more than it had before he’d left. He’d either have to go back to work on his family’s farm or go to work for one of the neighbors, and he didn’t see the sense of trudging all the way over to the next farm to milk their cows when he had plenty of those right there at home. Thus returning now would tie him to the family farm, probably forever.
But if he had five thousand dollars in his pocket, well, that would be quite another thing. That would be enough to buy his own property. Maybe the old Steiner place; the grandkids had been trying to sell that for months. He’d have his own land—a lot of land, with room for horses. Maybe he’d even buy that stallion and ride home to Plainfield.
The memory of the horse he’d seen a few weeks earlier still brought a smile to his face. It had been on one of his typically fruitless days searching for a job, and he had hit the western edge of town and just kept walking, thinking that at least he’d get some exercise out of the day.
The stables were set out quite a way from Mineral Point proper, and he had told himself that he was going to turn around and head back as soon as he reached the top of the slope that rose like the lip of a bowl, keeping the town from spilling out that way. From the top, however, he saw the vast fenced-in fields of the stables, and there galloping across the grass, kicking up dew that glittered in the morning sun, was a blindingly white horse. Nathan had never seen anything like it before, and like a magnet, it drew him down the hill until the fence barred him from approaching any closer.
Nathan stepped up onto the fence and watched as the horse galloped back and forth across the field, crossing the wide swath of grass in only a few seconds before slowing to a trot, turning around and racing back the other way. Its muscles were in bold relief, working like a perfectly designed machine, as if the horse had been built expressly for the purpose of running free on a crisp, clear morning with a pale blue sky overhead.
As it returned across the field toward Nathan, he stepped down from the fence and walked along, hoping to get a better view as the horse approached. This was no draft animal, like so many you could find on any farm you liked. This was a horse that was lean and strong, but somehow…elegant. Of course, it helped that its coat was entirely white. Looks like something out of a fairy tale, Nathan thought as it neared the fence, gave him a quick glance and a snort, and took off again for the other side of the field.
He must have watched that horse for nearly an hour before one of the stable hands took note of him and walked out to see what he was doing.
“Morning,” the man said. He was tall and lanky, with a handlebar mustache that drooped down on both sides of his mouth, and he studied Nathan for a moment before going on. “Help you with something?”
“No, I was just admiring your horse there,” Nathan said, nodding in the direction of the stallion as it again thundered away across the grass. “That’s quite an animal.”
“Yeah, he is, isn’t he? We just got that boy a few weeks ago.”
“Is that an Andalusia
n?”
The stable hand threw him a quick glance, as if surprised. “It is,” he said, and his eyes narrowed. “Most people around here wouldn’t know an Andalusian if it stepped on them.”
“Well, I’ve read quite a bit about them,” Nathan said. “I just never expected to see one in Wisconsin.”
“Far as we know, this is the first one,” the man said. “Had to order it special.”
“How much would a horse like that cost?”
The man looked Nathan up and down again, his eyes lingering on Nathan’s worn shoes. “More than most people can pay, that’s for sure,” he said.
“Well, how much is that?”
The man turned and watched as the stallion made another turn. His eyes softened, almost like a father watching his child. “We were going to get twelve hundred dollars for that one.”
“Two hundred dollars?” Nathan felt a little thrill run through him. He didn’t have that much, but perhaps he could borrow it from somebody.
“Twelve,” the man repeated more clearly. “Twelve hundred dollars.”
The thrill dissipated. “Oh, that’s…that’s a lot of money.”
“Yeah, it would’ve been, but the sale fell through,” the man said. “So you save your pennies and come on back here later on then. I’m sure he’ll be around for a while. Anything else I can do for you?”
“No, I guess I’ll be getting back to town,” Nathan said, stepping down from the fence. He turned and started walking, turning only when he was at the top of the hill, taking one last glance at the Andalusian as it floated like a spirit across the field. He hadn’t been back to see it since.
Nathan rolled over, pulled back the blanket and got up. That horse, any land, any home of his own would remain unreachable forever if he went home now. It was settled. He was going to get hitched.
He dressed quickly in the cold room; it wasn’t quite to the point where he could see his breath inside, but it was getting close. He was going to have to either find another rooming house or insist that Mrs. Grady give him a different room with a window that closed properly, even if it was more expensive. If nothing else, getting married was at least going to keep him from freezing to death over the winter.