by Diane Darcy
Something glinted in the sunlight, and Melissa leaned down and picked up a piece of metal, partially buried in the dirt. “Look at this.”
Jeremy came back to study her find. “Huh. An old horseshoe.”
Jessica crowded in to examine the rusty, wrinkled, U-shaped piece of iron. “Maybe it’s lucky.”
“I doubt that. It’s too ugly.” Melissa went to toss it, but realized Richard might like to have it. Perhaps she should start collecting old junk for him and see if she could find a way to get it back to the 21st century. He’d love that.
They started walking again.
“You got your hand dirty, Mom,” Jessica teased. “I thought you hated to get messy.”
Melissa looked down at the streaks of orange grime from the horseshoe and had to chuckle. “Well maybe you don’t know everything about me that you think you know.” A memory surfaced and she smiled. “Watch this.”
The kids stopped and watched her expectantly.
She straightened, cleared her throat, used her clean hand to pushed her hair behind her ears, and concentrated for a moment.
She wiggled her ears.
The kids laughed like it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.
Melissa grinned, glad she could still do the trick.
“I didn’t know you could do that!” said Jeremy.
Melissa looked down her nose at him. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, mister.” As she said the words, she realized how true they were. She didn’t share a lot of herself with her family. They knew next to nothing about her childhood. She’d always focused on the future and never looked back. For some reason, the thought suddenly made her sad.
Jeremy started walking again, then broke into a run. “Here it is!”
They led her down a not-very-well defined path, through the grass, to the stream below.
Jessica flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and grinned. “You gotta see this!”
On the side of the stream, out of the current, a small school of fish swam about.
Jeremy grinned. “Cool, huh?”
Melissa smiled and touched first his hair, then Jessica’s shoulder, warmth filling her chest. “Yes. It is cool.”
Jeremy stood up. “But wait ‘til you see this over here.” He tramped down the grass, walking down the side of the stream, stopping beside a slower, muckier section in the water.
Melissa followed behind Jessica. There were tadpoles swimming frantically in the shallows.
Jessica pointed. “Do you see them? The tadpoles?”
Melissa nodded, then from their grinning faces, realized that this was the amazing thing they wanted to show her. “Wow! How truly amazing!”
They glowed.
Jeremy took a smashed piece of bread out of his pocket and dropped tiny pieces in the water.
Jessica took a piece from him and did the same.
Melissa made a mental note to turn his pockets inside out on laundry day.
The tadpoles went crazy, flipping over each other, fighting for the food, and the children giggled.
Melissa sat down on the side of the hill, set the horseshoe aside, wiped her hand on the long grass, then wrapped her arms around her knees.
Jeremy stepped in the mud and splashed muck on his jeans.
“Hey, watch the sludge there, buddy.” Melissa scolded. “Laundry’s not for three more days. Thank goodness.”
Her children were both smiling and she realized they seemed happier than she’d ever seen them, which was wonderful, but strange. Here they were in the past, they had so little in the way of possessions--no toys, no Play Station, no clothing to speak of. They were worked hard for a good portion of each day, yet seemed so happy. They were wonderful.
She took a deep breath of the late summer air and a fierce, consuming love for her children filled her. “Jeremy, Jessica, you know I love you, don’t you?”
They turned, Jessica eyes widening, and Jeremy’s grin fading.
Melissa swallowed, her throat closing. “I do.” Her voice broke and she sucked in a quick breath. “I love you both so much,” her throat tight, she barely got the words out.
Jeremy rushed forward, knelt in the grass beside her and hugged her, his face pressing into her neck.
She clung to him.
Jessica wavered beside the stream, her eyes filling with tears.
Melissa’s own eyes filled with moisture. She held an arm out to Jessica.
Jessica charged forward, and threw herself at Melissa, almost knocking her and Jeremy backward.
Melissa held them both tightly. Kissed them both on the head as they clung to her. She was so glad she’d come today.
* * *
While Jeremy and Jessica started pancakes for dinner, Melissa headed over to her assigned section of the garden to weed. She hadn’t done the chore for at least a week, and wanted to get the work over as soon as possible, have dinner with her family and perhaps get a chance to sketch again before bedtime. Settling on her knees in the dirt, she got started. The weeds had flourished since the last time she’d done the chore, and soon her hands, arms, and back ached from the repetitive grasping and pulling motion. The work was hard, but she had to admit there was something soothing about gardening.
Granted, the labor also made her realize she needed a bath, and there were nasty bugs crawling in the dirt and the smell of dinner coming from the bunkhouse had her stomach clenching in hunger. But overall, she was actually having a good time.
Footsteps approached, making a slapping noise on the hard-packed dirt of the path leading to the ranch house. Melissa glanced up to see the widow MacPherson closing in.
Melissa bit back a groan. Great. The last person she wanted to see when she was in a good mood was the widow. Too late, she considered she might have started weeding in a less visible section of the huge garden.
The widow stopped a few feet away. “I need to discuss something with you.”
Oh goodie. Melissa kept pulling weeds. “All right. Discuss away.”
The widow hesitated, shifted her weight from one leg to the other, took a breath, let it out, and took another. “How are you managing? Is everything going well for you?”
Melissa raised a brow, and sat back on her heels. From their previous encounters, and the widow’s cross-armed stance, Melissa sincerely doubted the widow wanted to inquire after her well being. “Everything is fine.”
The widow nodded. “Good, good.”
She obviously had something on her mind. The fact that she seemed hesitant to address the subject made Melissa nervous. Did she want to fire Richard? She quickly discarded the notion as doubtful. Everyone liked him and he was a hard worker. And while the widow might not like Melissa personally, Melissa doubted she’d fire Richard to get rid of her, or approach Melissa about it.
And if she dared complain that Melissa wasn’t working hard enough, she’d get an earful. Melissa went back to pulling weeds. Some were tough to pull out, and her hands were sore. They were also orange from carrying the horseshoe and now a bit green and brown besides. The nice layer of dirt under her nails didn’t help their appearance.
One word. Just one word of criticism and Melissa would let her have it.
The widow leaned down and pulled a few weeds. “Your children seem to have settled in well.”
“Yes. They have.” Melissa watched her pull a well entrenched weed. Was she trying to make Melissa feel inadequate? Melissa quickly stifled a laugh at her own paranoia. Since when did she feel possessive over weeds? Let the old bat pull as many as she liked. The woman just had a way of making her feel ill-at-ease.
The widow seemed just as uncomfortable which was making Melissa even more nervous as the minutes went by. What could she want? Perhaps a favor? A new dress or something? A lightbulb went off in Melissa’s head. Of course! No doubt she’d seen Jessica’s nice dress and wanted one too, but since they’d had such harsh encounters between them, was probably embarrassed to ask.
Melissa consi
dered it. Yes, she’d be willing to make her an outfit. Suddenly she felt quite benevolent. Perhaps she could use one of the new designs she was working on.
“Was there something in particular you needed?” Melissa tried to sound as pleasant as possible. She wouldn’t make Mrs. MacPherson grovel.
It would be fun to design some new clothes. Perhaps something in a lighter color to get her away from the navy and brown she favored. With her white hair and olive skin she’d look stunning in a jade or ruby color.
If the widow paid her, Melissa could get some material for herself and perhaps even pick up a little more business from referrals. Melissa smiled.
The widow sighed and stood up. “Your overtures toward Hannah are confusing to me. I’m not sure what you want from her.”
Melissa blinked, the comment so unexpected, it took a moment to understand the insult; to understand that new clothes were no longer on the horizon. “Why do I have to want something? Hannah’s my age. Why wouldn’t I gravitate toward her?”
“But you’re nothing alike, are you?” She sounded worried, and her eyes searched Melissa’s face.
Melissa felt a sting of anger. “What is it, exactly, that you’re concerned about?”
“I don’t want Hannah upset. Someone like you can’t understand what it’s like to be hurt, but Hannah has a good life here and I don’t want you disturbing her. Leave her alone.”
Someone like her? Leave her alone? She made it sound as if Melissa were an unfeeling, diseased pest that might contaminate those around her? She swallowed, her breath caught, and just that fast she felt ten years old again.
She wasn’t good enough. She was shut out. A destitute, skinny, unwanted kid, always on the outside looking in. No friends, no parties, and no clothes. A reject.
She didn’t cry. The lesson she’d learned long ago had stuck. Even when they stab you in the heart, never let them see you cry.
The widow watched her with a slight look of concern.
Melissa’s spine straightened, she sat back on her heels and smiled for all she was worth. She saw no reason not to confirm the widow’s bad impression of her. “So, you want me to stay away from Hannah. What’s it worth to you?”
The widow’s expression hardened. “What do you want? Money? Sorry, but I’m unwilling to be coerced. If you like your new residence, I’d suggest you leave Hannah alone.”
After one more searching glance, Mrs. MacPherson turned and quickly left.
Dry-eyed, Melissa viciously yanked at a weed. Threaten her, would she? Threaten to turn Melissa’s family out, would she? Mrs. MacPherson had just messed with the wrong woman. She’d get hers. Somehow. If it was the last thing Melissa did, she’d make sure of it.
* * *
Later that night, alone in the darkness, Melissa sat on the cabin steps, listening to the crickets and studying the incandescent full moon.
She took a deep breath, tilted her head back, and raised her arms up into the air. “Beam me up, Scottie.”
Nothing happened.
She lowered her limbs and studied the white orb. The moon, still and distant, seemed to taunt her with its indifference.
She sighed. They’d been here an entire month now, but it seemed like an eternity. Leaning back, she braced her elbows on the rough wood of the step behind her. Her nightgown snagged on a sliver, and freeing the sleeve, she grimaced. The rough wood of the steps mirrored the roughness of life here. She hated this place and didn’t belong.
An owl flew overhead, and she shivered and followed the bird’s progress through the dark night air as it flew past her and over the widow’s place.
She quickly looked away, but it was too late. Her face crumpled. Tears that hadn’t fallen earlier burned behind her nose and eyes, finally spilling onto her cheeks. Melissa wiped at her face and bit back a sob.
Why was she crying? Why was she feeling so fragile? What did she care what others thought? She hadn’t cared for a long time.
She pressed her eyelids into her nightgown. It was this place. This horrible place had opened something; some part inside herself she didn’t want to look at. And now that part lay open, vulnerable, like when she’d been a child.
She quickly tried to push the unwelcome thought away. Her childhood was a closed book and that was how she wanted it. What good did it do to dwell on the past?
She wanted to be back in that place where nothing could hurt her anymore; where she didn’t think of things that hurt. She’d worked hard to become...well, if not happy, at least impervious and untouched by pain. It was a much better place to be, and now she wanted to get back to that place. She muffled her sobs the best she could.
She wanted to go home.
Chapter Nineteen
Richard stood at the end of the line of men, used to his position as ‘new guy’. With his fingertips, he wiped sweat off his brow and brushed the moisture onto his jeans. The day was shaping up to be another hot one.
He was glad it was payday. He needed the money. His family hadn’t had one cent to spend in the month they’d been there. He wasn’t sure how much he’d get since the widow had provided necessities for his family, but any amount would be welcome.
John, the foreman, looked up from his position under the big willow tree where a table and chair had been set up in front of the ranch house. He paid each man in turn, marking a notation in a ledger, then angling the book around for every man to sign.
Richard envied him the shade.
“Next.”
Willie, James, Merrill, Tex, David, and the others moved forward, and Richard followed.
Willie turned to Richard. “What ya gonna to do with your money?”
Merrill interrupted. “I’m getting something to drink.”
“I’m going to see Stella,” James rubbed his hands together.
David, who usually didn’t say much, spoke up. “I’m saving it.”
Willie scowled. “You always save it.”
Tex gave Willie a slow grin. “Well at least he don’t waste it all on no girls.”
Merrill crossed his arms. “What about me? I’m not spending money on girls, either.”
Willie lifted his chin. “Not anymore anyway. But there was a time--”
Merrill’s fists clenched. “Shut your trap before I shut it for you.” He turned around, facing forward.
Willie hit James in the shoulder and pointed at Merrill’s back and they both tried unsuccessfully to stifle laughter.
Merrill turned to glare and looked ready to explode. “Next.”
The line moved up and it was Frank’s turn.
Nathan, already paid, stepped back in line to stand between Merrill and the two younger boys as if nothing were happening. “I don’t know what happens to my money. I turn it over to Amanda, and I never see it again.”
Joe nodded from his place next to the table. “I know what you mean. Sarah’s set on having new shoes for the kids.”
Merrill’s gaze turned triumphant and he lifted a finger. “See, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. I don’t have to turn my money over to no girl.”
Frank chuckled. “Don’t see me complaining. What about you, Richard?”
Richard shrugged and held back a grin. “No complaints.”
Merrill made a sound of disgust. “Yer all idiots. I’m glad I don’t have no petticoat telling me what to do.”
Richard realized Merrill would change places with any of them in a heartbeat and felt a little sorry for him. He was obviously still very bitter about his girlfriend leaving him to marry some other guy.
Tex, always the peacemaker, clapped Merrill on the shoulder. “I’m with Merrill. Women are nothin’ but trouble.” Tex probably meant it. His wife had left and, according to him, good riddance.
Actually, there were a few confirmed bachelors in the group. John, the foreman, smart and wily, always kept the men in line and acted like he’d be at the ranch forever. He’d never married and didn’t seem to want to. But perhaps there was a story there? And David, shor
ter, but strong as an ox, never said too much. Richard realized he had no idea where David stood on the issue of marriage.
Willie and James were still pretty young to be married. They just wanted a good time.
Joe, Frank, and Nathan were married, like himself.
They were a great group of guys: fun loving, dependable, and, above all, hardworking and worthy of respect. They were exactly the sort he liked to pal around with.
“Better save some money for the picnic,” said Willie.
“Good idea.” James nodded. “We might want something to drink besides punch.”
Willie grinned and leaned toward James. “Besides, there will be women there,” he whispered the word and glanced at Merrill.
David grinned. “And poker.”
Merrill glanced from Willie to Richard, a sudden grin lighting his face. “You ever play cowboy poker?”
Richard pushed his hat up a bit. “Sure. I’ve played poker before.”
Willie laughed. “No, what he means is--”
Merrill hit Willie in the chest. Hard.
Willie bent over, gasped for breath, and coughed.
Merrill smiled. “Well, perhaps we’ll get up a game at the picnic. What do you say, boys?”
Everyone smiled and nodded. Nathan, who loved practical jokes was grinning like a fool.
Somebody was going to be made to look the idiot, and Richard knew very well it was him. He shook his head. “Sorry, my wife has assured me that I’m not interested in playing poker. I can’t afford to lose any money.”
Merrill’s grin widened and he slapped Richard’s back. “Don’t you worry, we’ll figure something out.”
Richard glanced around into the grinning faces, sighed and shook his head. No doubt he’d eventually find out what this was all about. And no doubt it would be unpleasant, but he could handle anything they sent his way.
Nathan and Frank, pay in hand, went off to get the wagon hitched so they could take their wives into town. Some of the other men were going, as well. Since Richard had no seniority, he had to stay behind to work.
He wiped his brow again, and his shirt stuck to his back. He’d rather be working than standing in the sun. Waiting in line for pay was a lot different than receiving a check in the mail for services rendered. Or better yet, direct deposit.