Sixty Acres and a Bride

by Regina Jennings

  Glad to wear her loose-fitting camisa, she wondered again at the clothes the ladies chose to wear in this heat. True, on the farm Louise and Aunt Mary wore shirtwaists that were thinner and looser than those they wore to town, but they still had fitted sleeves. She was so careful not to sweat while working on her dress, but what would she do when she wore it in the heat? She sighed. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t wear it until winter. What occasion would be grand enough to warrant such a beautiful gown?

  The scissors sliced through the material effortlessly, like water bugs across the river, the excess fabric sliding silently off the table and making a puddle of pink on the floor. The window was open, but the cool morning air had vanished. She should take a moment to shut up the house, preserving the temperature as long as possible, but she didn’t want to leave her work. She’d dreamt about her dress while she fed the chickens, weeded the garden, and stitched the pillowcases.

  But those tasks had priority. Her vanity couldn’t derail the slow progress they were making toward their goal.

  Louise did what she could. That very morning, she’d left early to help Aunt Mary can tomatoes, expecting a few jars to bring home and a few coins if they sold well in town. It wouldn’t be much, but every order for linens, every blossom on the stalks, every chance to help Aunt Mary was a blessing from God. Rosa had learned that lesson at Eli’s table: You can sit around and wait for gifts to fall off the tree into your lap, or you can climb the tree and get your gifts yourself. Over time you’ll find God leaves most of His gifts in the tree. The chickens, the sheep, and the garden all meant a few more bills to stuff in the crockery pot that sat in the sparse pantry.

  According to Aunt Mary, they could replant in the fall and have a winter crop too, but that wouldn’t help when the taxes were due. As she spun the material around to start cutting from the other side, Rosa tried to calculate their progress. The sheep were an unexpected boon, but she couldn’t guess their market value. Maybe she shouldn’t worry. Louise seemed content.

  Rosa hated to be negative in the face of Louise’s optimism. Louise was proud of all they’d accomplished. Getting her house cleaned out, repairing it, and even planting a garden were more than the older lady had thought possible without the help of her husband and son. Daily she seemed surprised at how well they were doing, and perhaps they would be if it weren’t for the taxes crouching at their door waiting to wolf down their hard-earned money.

  Less than two months! Rosa sighed and dropped the scissors into her basket. Why did Louise refuse to face the future? She ignored Rosa’s and Mary’s reminders of the amount they’d have by August—an amount that fell well short of what they needed.

  “God has plans for us,” she’d said, squeezing Rosa’s shoulder. “He takes special care of widows and orphans. He won’t forget us.”

  But what were those plans? Rosa never forgot her sheep, either, but she wouldn’t want to share the fate that awaited them.

  Perhaps Louise had options she wasn’t disclosing. Rosa dearly hoped so. She couldn’t see any way their feeble efforts could amass such a sum. She folded the taffeta and wrapped it with the protective brown paper. Standing, she put her hands on her hips and stretched her back. Her worries had distracted her—she’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t stopped for dinner.

  Not wanting Louise to be upset when she got back from Mary’s and found the house sweltering, Rosa went from room to room, closing the windows and pulling the shades. She was in the kitchen when she heard a familiar sound, reminiscent of her childhood. It was Conejo braying like burros do, whether in English, Spanish, or Nahuatl. He sounded like he was just on the other side of the barn. Would something stalk the sheep that close to the house?

  Rosa grabbed the rifle from behind the kitchen door. Down the porch steps she rushed and across the yard, hoping she wouldn’t need the gun. She didn’t know how to fire it, but bringing it along seemed wise.

  She rounded the barn to find the sheep grazing calmly. Good. She opened the gate before she realized there were two burros in the pasture. No, not two. One was a horse with a man on it. Rosa’s arms dropped to her sides in relief, but as he drew closer she recognized the drooping moustache, the sloped shoulders, and the sardonic grin. Jay Tillerton! She tightened her grip on the rifle, holding it across her chest, and prayed she had the correct hand on the trigger.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked cautiously. No use getting him riled if he had no devilry in mind.

  “Just checking on my neighbors. What’s the gun for?”

  Her memory of the cellar was too clear to dismiss. She didn’t have a gun in hand then, and she wouldn’t lay down arms now. She bluffed. “Protection.”

  Tillerton spat derisively, and raised his eyebrows. “I’ve got a gun myself.” He pushed his vest back, exposing the handle of his pistol. “And I use it when I have to.”

  “I’ll remember that before I trespass on your property.” She didn’t even blink. If he shot her in her own pasture, there wasn’t a jury in Texas that wouldn’t hang him. Even she knew that. But maybe he wanted to be civil this time. “How’s your wife?”

  “She has a hard time staying healthy, that’s for sure, but I’ll send her your regards.” He shifted in the saddle. “I just wanted to make a neighborly visit and see how things are going. Seems like I saw your mother-in-law headed over the creek toward George’s this morning. She’s not home yet, is she?”

  No point in lying. She allowed the barrel to droop toward the ground. “I don’t know when she’s coming home.”

  “Left you all alone? Don’t you think that’s kind of dangerous?”

  Rosa didn’t answer. She didn’t move an inch. Was he worried for her or threatening her? Either way, some instinct told her that she was safer here in the wide open prairie than she would be if he got her into the house.

  “I’ll tell you what’s dangerous,” he continued. “It’s two women living alone without any menfolk around. But you’re not going to have to worry for long, are you? In a month you’ll have to find somewhere more suitable to live—some little property two women can handle.”

  “We hope it won’t come to that.”

  He stroked his moustache. “Of course you do, but in the meantime it pays to be prepared. You see, I’ve been up to the courthouse. Just curious, I guess. I checked into what it took to buy a county lien, and it’s not complicated at all.”

  “Lien? What has our farm got to do with you?”

  “More than you might think. If someone, me for example, can come up with the delinquent taxes due on August fifteenth, the county deeds the property to that person. Simple as pie. Not that I’d want to do that, though. There should be a more neighborly way to handle this situation, don’t you think, Mrs. Garner?”

  Rosa’s stomach revolted. Bile rose in her throat as his words rang true. If they didn’t have the money, they’d not only lose the ranch, but they would lose it to him! He wasn’t just threatening her reputation, he was threatening Louise’s livelihood. At that moment she’d give everything she owned and everything she’d ever own to have the ground open up at his feet and swallow him alive.

  “I asked you a question.” He looked down at her from the heights of his horse’s back.

  She refused to answer.

  “I want to make a deal with you. Surely we can negotiate a solution that would be more acceptable to us both.” His lips spread in an evil leer. “Just because you lose your land doesn’t mean you have to move. You could stay here so we could see more of each other.” He perused her body from head to toe. “Of course, you’d need to allow calls of a more personal nature. Besides that moment in the cellar, you haven’t done much to recommend yourself.”

  The cellar hadn’t been an accident, and he wasn’t apologizing. Some ancient Aztec fury boiled over in her veins. From deep inside her gut she bellowed as she raised her rifle with both hands over her head and ran at him, intending to club him to death. His horse startled and trotted out o
f her range as she swung the weapon like an ax.

  “Get off my land!” She turned to run at him again, murder in her eyes. This time she aimed for the horse’s legs, hoping to unseat him.

  He retreated to a safe distance. “Obviously you don’t know how to use that thing. Something for me to keep in mind.”

  She didn’t know, but now was a good time to learn. Her temper pushed her beyond reasonable thought. Her heart raced and a white heat flooded over her body, giving her strength she didn’t know she possessed. She was facing evil. It smothered her, taunted her, and threatened to consume her. She raised the rifle to her shoulder and looked down the barrel, not even sure if it was loaded.

  “Don’t bother,” he called. “I’m leaving, but think it over. That’ll be the best offer you get. Besides, a woman like you must get lonely out here.”

  Chest heaving, she kept the rifle pointed in his direction. The gun was heavy, but she managed to hold it steady until he reached the far gully and hauled his lousy carcass off her land.

  The sky had faded before Louise returned, escorted by Nicholas. Their carefree voices preceded them, chatting easily until they were thwarted by the locked door.

  “Land sakes!” Louise cried as Rosa unlocked the door and let them enter. “It’s cooler outside than in here. Why don’t you have the windows open?” She removed her bonnet and tossed it on the chair. Going to the window, she tugged it open. “That’s better. Is the upstairs closed up, too?”

  Rosa’s brow lowered. She nodded.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, sitting here pouting. I thought you wanted to stay and work on your dress.” Louise continued grumbling as her heels clicked on the wooden stairs, leaving Nicholas standing in the doorway.

  “I’d rather poke a bear with a stick than cross an angry woman.” He edged his way around her. “But do you mind if I help myself to a drink? It’s mighty dry out there.”

  She didn’t answer but followed him to the kitchen, where he filled a cup with water.

  “Well, since you aren’t talking I guess I better ask. What’s wrong?” He took a seat and peered at her over the edge of his tin cup.

  What could she tell Nicholas? Tax liens were public record. Surely her good name couldn’t be stained by that.

  “It’s that Mr. Tillerton.” She sank into a chair and studied her calloused palms. “He scares me.”

  “Pshaw.” Nicholas waved her concern away. “He’s not very scary. Puny, in fact. A jolly fellow, best I can tell, although not much of a rancher. If it weren’t for his shop burning up in the fire, he wouldn’t have a dime to his name. Nothing to fear.”

  “His shop burned?”

  “Yeah, in the big fire last year. It started at his shop, actually—right after he bought it. Smack dab among the other stores in Prairie Lea. Fortunately for him he had insurance. A lot, actually. Poor folks like Mr. Bradford didn’t have any and are still trying to recoup their losses.”

  “Do you know his wife?”

  “His wife? Don’t think much of her. If I remember correctly, Father said she used to be a student of Mr. Tillerton’s. She caused him to lose his job, some way or another.”

  “She didn’t say much when we met, almost to the point of rudeness.”

  He nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard, too, but you won’t meet a pleasanter man. Too bad he’s shackled to a disagreeable wife. Can’t say I blame him for leaving her on the farm.” He leaned back in his chair, which protested loudly. “What? Why are you glaring at me like that? What’s he done to get you riled?”

  Her stomach soured again at the memory. “He was here tonight. He says he’s going to get our farm if the lien isn’t paid on time.”

  Nicholas drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, he has an adjoining border, so it’s hardly a surprise that he wants it, but it’s bad form to boast about it.” He shook his head. “I thought he was courteous, but I guess he’s just another uncouth Yankee—no manners at all.”

  “Well, he’s not getting our farm, because I won’t—” Her hand covered her mouth. Uh-oh. But Nicholas forged ahead.

  “Well, I’m terribly sorry he offended you. He probably had no intention of doing so. Don’t let him get under your skin.”

  What about my skirt? But she couldn’t say that.

  He scooted his chair out and rose to his feet. “There’re plenty of good folks around here. You can’t let one blackguard ruin your evening.” Rosa followed him through the parlor. “But I did bring you some good news. I guess Mrs. Garner would tell you, but I’d rather you hear it from me.

  “You’re invited to our house for the Fourth of July. We’ll have fireworks and the Prairie Lea parade. It’ll be stupendous. And the best part . . . you’ll have Nick to show you the town.”

  Coming through the opposite doorway at the same moment, Louise drew up short.

  “Oh, Nicholas, you didn’t know . . . we’ve made other plans for Rosa. She isn’t going to Prairie Lea.”

  “Not going? And why not? It’d be just the thing for her.”

  Rosa ducked her head so they wouldn’t see the disappointment on her face. She pinched some dead leaves off the potted African violet and a few that weren’t quite dead yet.

  “Mary wants Rosa to come to their place. Weston won’t let the hands leave the ranch for the festivities, so they’re going to cook up something for them. Barbecue, music, and some fireworks, I think. Anyway, she asked if Rosa could come help her and Eliza get it all together. They need her help.”

  “But you’re coming with us?” Nicholas asked.

  Louise never stammered. True, she said things she shouldn’t, but words usually flowed effortlessly out of her mouth. Not this time.

  “I’m coming to Prairie Lea . . . your mother has offered me a room overnight . . . but I may not accompany you during the day.” She caught a stray tendril and wrapped it around her finger in the gesture of a woman twenty years her junior.

  “Why? What is it, Louise?” Rosa could be more direct than Nicholas, who shared the same skeptical look she had.

  Louise swung both hands in the air before dropping them at her side. Rosa fully expected her to flounce off and stomp to her room, but she kept a loose grip on her maturity.

  “Mr. Bradford asked if I would allow him to accompany me to the parade and picnic. I accepted. There. Eli has been dead for nearly a year, and Mr. Bradford is an old friend. Make of it what you will.”

  Nicholas’s substantial jaw dropped. Rosa covered her mouth with her hand.

  “What? I’m only stepping out with him. It’s not a grand occasion.”

  But was it? Until now it seemed Louise had wanted to recover the life she’d lost, not create a new future. She’d returned to the same house and surrounded herself with her old friends. Surely she didn’t think she could remarry and forget all that had happened in Mexico? No, it had to be just a friendly visit. Louise probably lacked male companionship, and Mr. Bradford was an old friend. Nothing to worry about. They hadn’t courted when they were young. Why would they now?

  “So you’d go out with your fellow and leave Rosa behind to do the work?” Nicholas asked.

  Louise’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “Excuse me, young man? Mr. Bradford is not my fellow. Besides, Rosa will have more fun at Mary’s than she would in town, where she’d have to sit on the sidelines in her black dress and watch the parade go by. At the ranch she can play with the kids, visit with Mary and Eliza, and play her flute.” Nicholas’s eyes grew wide when Louise whispered, “Don’t forget your dancing clothes. I remember how much you liked to kick up your heels in the mountains.”

  Rosa sparkled. Music, food, and dancing? Why hadn’t she said so? Independence Day, indeed.

  14

  ROSA’S STOMACH HURT—not from the delicious barbecue but from laughing so hard at the antics of the young men who, finding such an appreciative audience, tried to outdo one another in either wit or wildness.

  Seated at a long table littered with
greasy bones, the men grew louder and louder to draw the attention of the ladies’ table.

  “Now what are they doing?” Aunt Mary guffawed as Eliza gave her an account of the goings-on behind her back.

  “Looks like Bailey’s trying to catch a biscuit in his mouth. Willie is throwing it, and . . . oh my! They’ve picked the dreadful thing up off the ground three times and are still trying.”

  Even Eliza’s cook disapproved. Octavia shook her head and burrowed her creased brow further. “Don’t those fools realize we’re in a barnyard?”

  “Obviously they don’t care.” Eliza hid her face behind her hands. “I can’t watch or I’m going to get sick.”

  Mary looked to her husband for help. He was none. George, Weston, and Jake were daring, double daring, and double-dog daring the hapless cowboys to even greater indignities.

  “They claim they don’t want them to leave the ranch because they’ll get into trouble in town, but I think they like to keep them here for sport. George spends all year concocting foolishness to lead them into.”

  Eliza fanned herself. “I don’t think they take much convincing. I’m just glad Jake is finally content to be a spectator and not a participant. Last year he scared the daylights out of me when he jumped off the roof into the trough. He made it, but barely.”

  “Are you talking about me?” Jake sauntered to their table. “I know you are, because I’m all you can think about.”

  Eliza rolled her eyes and elbowed Rosa. “You caught me, Jake England. I was just telling Rosa here what a fine-looking, mature, and responsible man you are. At least this year.”

  “That’s what I figured.” He laced his thumbs behind his suspenders and stretched them away from his chest. “The boys sent me over to tell y’all that we’re going to run some foot races and wondered if you’d like to help.”