Alfredo lifted out a Blue Willow platter and handed it to Peter while Angelo was bent on one knee digging into the crate. Peter crossed the few feet to Catharine, holding the large platter at waist level as if serving her a meal. “If you will let it, this Blue Willow platter can represent my promise to fill your life with my trust and love and a houseful of children.” He thrust the platter into her hands as Mario reached over and took the carpetbag from her. Surprise filled Catharine’s face as she held the platter, looking unsure of what to do with Peter’s apology and admission of love.
Peter turned, and Angelo handed him a teacup and saucer. “This is to replace the one that I accidentally broke. May your cup run over with goodness, mercy, and the plans we’ll make together.”
Peter enjoyed watching Catharine’s reaction, which looked to be something between disbelief and pleasure. Greta was speechless for once. Angelina held her hands together in rapt attention, while Anna watched the scene unfold with her wide, innocent eyes.
Catharine clutched the dishes to herself. No doubt she was wondering where he’d gotten them. Hopefully there would be plenty of time to tell her later.
“I . . . I . . .” she stuttered.
Peter noticed the softening of her face. He was making headway and was encouraged by the look in her beautiful eyes. He continued on, aware that some people had stopped to watch. Alfredo stepped up and handed Peter a beautiful soup tureen.
“This, my dearest Catharine, can represent all the family and friends that gather around our table to celebrate holidays and good times.”
She balanced the dishes stacked in her arms, but not a soul moved to assist. He saw the edge of her mouth quiver. Was she trying not to smile?
He wasn’t through yet. Angelo handed him the salt and pepper shakers. “This is the spice you have added to my life so far, and without it I don’t think I can exist.” Catharine blinked at his admission. She stared agape at his unconventional method of apology.
Peter wondered if he looked like a fool, but he pressed on. He stepped over to Greta, and Alfredo handed him something. “Greta, I know you’ve had a rough time since Bryan left, and I don’t know what the future holds for you, but I want you to take this Blue Willow cake server and slice your wedding cake with the groom God has for you.”
Greta looked completely caught off guard. “Peter, it’s beautiful. I promise you that I will use it for my own wedding.” She stared down at the knife in her hand, turning it over to admire the delicate blue pattern on the china handle.
Peter turned to Anna. “Anna, I want you to take this cup and saucer to build your own Blue Willow set, but I don’t want to see those puppies drinking out of the saucer.” He chuckled, and he heard Angelina, Mario, and Greta laugh.
“But . . .” Anna looked at him curiously.
Peter snapped his fingers, and the twins lifted the puppies’ box out of the crate, where he’d placed them before leaving for town. The boys placed the box of wiggling puppies at Anna’s feet. “Now don’t let the puppies out of the box here, but if each of you will come back home with me, you can keep all four puppies. I promise.” Peter looked at Anna and felt fatherly tenderness toward her. “The house is lonely and quiet without all of you.”
Anna’s tears of joy spilled down her cheeks, and she was in Peter’s arms instantly.
“Oh, Peter . . . I do hope we will,” she said. She turned to Catharine, who stood motionless, the Blue Willow dishes heaped high in her arms. Everyone held their breath, but Mario cleared his throat loudly, then nodded his head at Peter while the twins moved away. The train whistle blew, announcing its departure, and Catharine started.
“What’s it going to be?” Peter strolled closer to Catharine. “Are those getting heavy? You don’t have the bear the burden alone, Catharine. I’m sorry for all you’ve been through. Say you’ll come back home where you belong.”
“Oh, Peter,” Catharine murmured, and Peter saw her eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry for not telling you everything. Can we learn to trust again?” Catharine looked up at him, openness and honesty reflected in her eyes. “Are you sure you still want me—and my sisters—in your life?”
Peter could hear the twittering between the other three women. He reached out to take the dishes and handed them to Angelina and Mario. “We are family, aren’t we?”
Catharine gave a slight nod and sniffed into her hanky.
“In that case, we can work through anything,” he said, bracketing her face between his hands. He tenderly brushed a single tear from her cheek and felt love flow into his heart until every vein in his body tingled. “I love you, and I guess I did right from the start.” She was his lovely, devoted Catharine, always concerned for others.
Catharine fell into his embrace, crying, and he showered her face and eyes with kisses. She whispered “I love you” in his ear.
The small group around them echoed their agreement with soft ahh’s until finally Peter and Catharine pulled apart, but he didn’t let go, and he promised himself that he never would. They stood leaning against each other, her head resting against his shoulder, overcome with emotion.
The twins expressed their feelings above the yapping of the puppies. “Yippee!” they yelled almost in unison. “Now can we go home?”
Everyone laughed, and Mario and Angelina carried the dishes back to the crate to pack them back up. Angelina wiped a tear or two from her eyes and sighed. “Ahh . . . so romantic, don’t you think, Mario?” She gazed at Mario, who simply smiled at her and winked at Peter.
Anna knelt down to soothe the puppies clamoring to get out of the box. She lifted Prince and hugged him tightly to her chest while he nuzzled her with his nose. She stood and turned to them and said, “It’s time to feed the puppies. Let’s go home.”
A happier group didn’t exist, Catharine thought as the chatter and laughter spilled from the Andersens’ wagons rumbling down the road. They had waved goodbye to the Cristinis with promises to have lunch after church on Sunday. Greta drove the wagon they’d taken to town, three of the puppies piled in the back and one in Anna’s arms. Catharine pressed close to Peter’s side on the wagon bench they shared, not wanting one inch to separate them. Her heart was full of gratitude and love that God had seen her through the defining exposure of her and Peter’s wounded hearts. She remembered her mother saying once, “What man meant for evil, God meant for good.” From now on, when she faced a difficult problem—and without a doubt there would be a few—she’d claim that promise.
She stole a glance at her husband’s lean and handsome profile, letting her eyes slide down to his square, strong hands and nicely shaped nail beds. She remembered the way those hands had caressed her with tenderness and fervor. Catharine felt sudden desire surge through her, and her face grew warm at the thought. She would tell him about the baby when they got home, praying silently that he would be pleased about his new role as a father.
Peter took his eyes off the road a moment to smile back at her, a mischievous look in his eye. Blushing, she looked out across the field to enjoy the common yellow dandelions dotting the landscape. Purple pasture thistles nodded their heads at the tall yucca plants loaded with white blooms. The gentle motion of the wagon after a while made her eyes droop, and she struggled to keep them open. Besides the pregnancy making her tired, she was behind in the sleep department. Catharine felt like she could sleep an entire week.
“What are you thinking? Are you happy?” Peter broke her reverie.
She laid her hand on his knee. “Yes, Peter. I’m very happy and can hardly wait to get home. I’ve so much to do.”
“Mmm . . .” He gave her a sly gaze. “Most of it can wait. It’ll all be there tomorrow. If you’re like me, you didn’t get much sleep, so we can make up for that.”
Catharine got his meaning and smiled shyly, patting his knee. “Yes, we can.”
In a short while they were driving down the lane lined with maple and ash trees. “Those trees will be a scarlet red in the fall,” he t
old Catharine.
“I’m really beginning to appreciate the unique beauty of Wyoming. It would have been hard to leave it.”
He reached down and squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad you didn’t.”
“Peter, I should tell you more about my first marriage,” Catharine said softly.
“There will be plenty of time to talk later on. I should explain a few things myself.” He patted her knee. “But let’s just celebrate our love for now.”
Catharine lifted her eyes to meet his. “That, Mr. Andersen, will be fine with me.”
When they arrived, Peter set the brake on the wagon, then assisted Catharine down, holding her in his arms to give a welcome-home kiss, which lasted a little longer than was proper in the yard. They unloaded the dishes with Greta’s help, and Anna let the puppies loose. They bounded from the wagon and ran around the yard chasing each other, happy not to be confined. Anna’s laughter was music to Catharine’s ears.
Like family once again, they shared their evening meal together, enjoying thick slices of roast beef piled high on creamy whipped potatoes and smothered in onions as Peter liked it. “I do believe you are fast becoming a good cook, my dear wife!”
“I agree,” Greta said, wiping the last crumb from her mouth. “Either that or we’re starving. I don’t recall having lunch before we went to the railroad depot.”
“We didn’t,” Anna said. “Catharine was afraid that we’d miss the last train. I’m so glad you got there before we boarded, Peter.”
“And so am I, Anna,” Peter said, giving her a wink.
Catharine rose, taking her plate to the sink. “I’m thinking you had a little advice and help from Mario,” she teased.
“I’ll never tell.” Peter picked up his dish and walked over to caress Catharine on the nape of her neck, just below where her hair was pulled up into a chignon. “Why don’t we put the Blue Willow in the hutch while the girls clean up the kitchen? What do you say?”
“Okay . . . but what about your mother’s rose china?” Catharine wiped her hands on the dish towel, anxious to be alone with Peter to tell him about the baby.
“I’ll put it in the crate and she can have it back.”
“Then let’s get started. Greta, you and Anna don’t mind, do you?”
“’Course not. It won’t take long to clean up. Then I, for one, am headed to bed early.” Greta gave Anna a quick look and a nod.
Anna frowned, then, seeming to suddenly understand, replied, “Oh . . . yes . . . so am I.”
Catharine giggled and followed Peter to the dining room. She knew exactly how Greta’s mind worked and was grateful.
With the rose dishes packed into the crate and the Blue Willow gracing the dining room hutch, Peter and Catharine stood back to admire their work. “It’s so beautiful, isn’t it? I don’t think I told you thank you.” Catharine scooted up to him and threw her arms around his neck. She touched her lips to his, lingering against his mouth until he pulled her tightly against him, kissing her with all the passion he’d been holding back the last few weeks.
She pulled away, teasing him with a soft laugh. “My goodness, Mr. Andersen . . . I can barely breathe.”
“You can’t stop love, and I love you, Mrs. Andersen.” His eyes traveled to her throat, where her pulse beat rapidly. He stroked her arms, then pulled her against him again.
“Ahh . . . I love you too!” She led him toward the stairs, untying her apron and letting the ties trail behind her provocatively. She paused on the first step to remove the apron and laid it across the handrail, then grabbed his hand.
Peter looked thrilled at her open playfulness and followed her up the staircase. Halfway to the top, they paused to embrace again, and she laid her head on his shoulder as they continued up to the landing. Right before reaching their bedroom, Catharine paused in front of the attic door.
“Come with me,” she said, turning the knob.
“What?” He regarded her with a confused look.
Catharine crooked a finger, motioning for him to follow her up the dusty steps. Once in the attic, Catharine stopped and knelt down to remove the heavy cloth covering Peter’s baby cradle. “Would you carry this down to our room, please?”
“Well . . . er . . . sure. Are you planning on decorating our room with it? It’s really dirty and old.” Peter scratched his chin.
Catharine knew he didn’t have a clue. She stepped around the cradle and lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. “Peter, how does the name Willow sound if we have a little girl?” Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for his answer.
“Willow . . . a little girl?” A look of incredible delight lit up Peter’s face, which then softened with tenderness. “Do you mean that you—?”
Catharine nodded, barely able to breathe, tears welling up in her eyes. Peter lifted her, swinging her around wildly until they were breathless in the narrow space of the attic. Their eyes locked and held with their own special caress.
“Willow, huh? I like it. I like it a whole lot, my love.”
Epilogue
A few days later, Clara heard someone run up her porch steps and ring the doorbell. She peeked through the sheers, not sure she wanted company today, but was pleasantly surprised to see Anna. Swinging open the door, she immediately waved for Anna to come in before she noticed a puppy tucked under her arm. “Oh dear. You can’t bring that thing in here, Anna!” Clara quickly moved aside, but Anna thrust the puppy into her arms, and it started licking her hands and squirming.
“Her name is Baby and she’s already housebroken,” Anna said, setting down the luggage she held in her other hand. “I thought since Mac left, she’d be a great companion for you . . . you know, to take your mind off of him.”
Clara continued to hold the ball of fluff while Baby nipped at the pearls dangling from her neck. “Well . . . I’ve never had a dog of my own.” In spite of herself, Clara stroked the puppy’s back. It was so soft.
“She won’t hurt you. See there? She likes you.” Anna patted the puppy on the head. “She’s one of my favorites of the litter and she minds well, which I suppose you’d like. And we can fix her up a bed next to yours.”
Clara watched in total surprise as the young slip of a girl picked up her suitcase and started up the stairs, her luggage banging against her leg with each step. “Where are you going, Anna?”
“You did ask me to live with you when school started, right? Well, I thought we’d better get more acquainted the week before. Which room would you like me to use during the week?”
Clara stood holding the puppy and looked up at Anna’s bright blue eyes. “I . . . I guess you’re correct . . . I did. Use the second room on the left.”
“Well then, I guess it’s settled.”
“Will everyone else be coming over today, Anna?”
Anna turned at the top of the stairs and answered, “Oh, yes, ma’am. They’re outside right now. I ran on ahead of them.” She moved to the landing but paused to say, “Oh, and you’d better make room for grandkids, because one is already on the way.”
Clara snapped her head around with an audible gasp, but Anna had disappeared. In just a matter of the ringing of a doorbell, her life had suddenly, drastically, and wonderfully changed . . . for the better.
Author’s Note
Cheyenne, Wyoming, was aptly nicknamed the Magic City of the Plains and frequently referred to by its nickname in the local newspaper, the Cheyenne Daily Leader, as early as 1867. I was fascinated to learn that it was dubbed the Magic City because of its boom and rapid growth, after starting from a ramshackle city on the empty plains. Early on, bullwhackers, thousands of men, and a few hundred lewd women drank and gambled in the raw railroad town, bringing debauchery and violence, which left a stain on Cheyenne’s reputation. Thankfully, Rev. Joseph W. Cook, an Episcopalian, set about to institute order in the community with the aid of other urban pioneers, starting churches and schools and civilizing its inhabitants.
I was simply in heaven on th
is trip of research, because this was, after all, cowboy country. When I visited, the first thing that struck me about Wyoming was the windswept prairie and wildlife. Walking the historic district of Cheyenne ignited my desire to photograph and read about the old buildings and homes that are still intact today. With such rich history, I tried to give a glimpse of its details in my story, but there is so much more that could be told.
Mail-order brides were a huge part of settling the West. My heroine was from Holland and many Dutch brides settled in Minnesota, but I took the liberty of having her travel to Wyoming to marry a wheat farmer.
Grasshoppers, or locusts, were a severe problem, not only in Wyoming but in many parts of the West. For reasons unknown, the Rocky Mountain grasshopper or locust is extinct now, as a result not of pesticides but of habitat loss. They destroyed entire crops very quickly. In 1877, Congress created the United States Entomological Commission to deal with the plight of the farmers caused by major locust crises.
My first glimpse at the Union Pacific depot as I entered the city of Cheyenne left a lasting impression on me. With its multicolored sandstone and pitched roof resembling a castle, I decided it would be the starting point in my novel. I marveled at the details of the building and enjoyed the museum there. By the time my heroine arrives, the clock tower has not yet been erected and wouldn’t be until 1890. There was a beautiful park in front of the depot with trees, a bronze cannon, and a fountain, all of which is still there today.
Most of the government, commercial, and residential buildings owe their significant design to William Dubois, a prominent architect of Cheyenne. The Inter Ocean Hotel on Sixteenth and Capitol Street is the hotel where Peter arranged for Catharine to stay when she arrived. It was built by Barney Ford, a former slave, and was considered one of the finest in Cheyenne.
Laramie County courthouse on Eighteenth Street was built in 1872, with an adjoining structure in the rear that was the jail and sheriff’s residence. In 1903, Tom Horn, a notorious hired assassin, was hanged in the jail’s yard.
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