by Heather Gray
Sitting up even straighter than she already was shouldn't have been possible, but Mary managed. "I'm listening."
"It's naïve to think you can support a family with nothing more than some eggs and a cellar's worth of vegetables .If something happens between now and next summer, if one of your brothers breaks a leg or, heaven forbid, something happens to both of them and no one is able to farm the land next year, you will be in dire straits. You need to build a business you can run yourself should such a need ever arise. To do otherwise is simply…naïve."
No one was prepared for Lizzie's reaction. Face flushed, she jumped up from her crate, fisted both hands, and planted them on her hips. "Naïve is nothing but a fancy word for telling someone you think they're too stupid to know better!"
Mary, shocked by Lizzie's outburst, felt her mouth drop open in a highly unladylike fashion. Before she could admonish Lizzie for the outburst, Samuel spoke up, "Lizzie, I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I don't think any of you are stupid. In fact, I think your sister has a good mind for business. However, there are a few things she still needs to learn. I was getting to that part, but I was doing a poor job of it."
Lizzie sat down, a blush furiously staining her cheeks, and, without making eye contact, said, "I'm sorry."
"Look at me Lizzie," Samuel said congenially. When the young girl finally raised her gaze, barely making eye contact, he gave her a kind smile. "It's okay that you spoke your mind with me. I won't take it personally. There might be times and places when that's not quite so okay. I'm not at all upset by it, though, and you shouldn't be either. All right?"
Lizzie nodded, still blushing. Samuel turned his attention back to Mary and said, "I think you have a good business plan, but you lack the capital to make it happen." At Mary's puzzled look he said, "You don't have enough money." When Mary nodded, he continued, "Like I said, I have a proposition. I would like to front you the money for two cows and the supplies you'll need to bring me the quality product I want. In turn, I would like you to spend your money on a horse and cart so you can bring your items into town with greater efficiency and safety."
Samuel could see he was losing Mary. She didn't want to accept his help. "Mary, I need someone to source milk for me. I'm going to make this offer to someone. It might as well be you. I will give you the money for the cows and supplies as a loan. We will agree on a fair price for the milk. Then I will pay you half of that price. The other half will be applied to repayment of the loan."
"Loan?" Mary asked.
Smiling, Samuel said, "I'm a businessman, Mary. While I believe in and support Christian charity, I also believe it's important to let people do for themselves when they can. You and your family are capable of turning this into a thriving business. I'm willing to make a small investment to help you get started, but I don't make investments that cost me money."
"So, you would loan us the money, and we would pay you back with milk? You would pay for half the milk we give you, and the other half would be applied as payment to the loan?"
"Yes."
"What if you don't need any milk?"
"Mary, if I don't need milk, then I've got bigger problems than a small loan to you. If I don't need milk, then that means my entire hotel is a bust. Let's not borrow trouble, if you don't mind."
"Can I think about this?" Mary asked.
"Of course you can, but first let me finish." When both Mary and Lizzie nodded, he continued, "You'll give me the milk at half price, and the other half of the cost will be applied to the loan. I'll keep record of it in my books and will give you a statement at the end of each month showing you the balance. You should keep your own records, too, so you can make sure I'm being accurate. I want you to get a horse because you're going to have a lot of things to bring into town, and I don't want my milk getting dropped or my eggs getting broken. And I don't want to be responsible for putting your brothers and sisters in danger delivering items to me in the dark in the dead of winter. My conscience won't allow it." Mary was listening and processing his words. Samuel continued, "In addition, I would like to negotiate a different price on the potatoes and onions. I'd like fifteen per cent below whatever the mercantile is selling them for. This money won't be applied to your loan. It's about you giving me a better deal because you want to keep my business."
"A good faith gesture?" Mary asked, leaning forward.
Smiling, Samuel said, "I haven't heard that phrase in a long time. Yes, a good faith gesture."
Mary, who would have been willing to go all the way down to the price they were giving the mercantile, wasn't bothered by the fifteen per cent. She wasn't sure about the rest, though. Going forward with something of this magnitude required careful consideration. "Can I think this over and get back to you next week?"
Winking at Lizzie again, Samuel said, "I knew your sister was a smart businesswoman." Then, turning to Mary he said, "Absolutely. I would be a bit worried if you accepted the offer without thinking it over."
****
When they walked past their own farm, Lizzie kept quiet. Mary had never gone to the Wilkes farm without being made to. Lizzie really wanted Mary to like Mrs. Wilkes as much as she did, so she kept her mouth closed, afraid anything she said might make Mary change her mind and take them home.
They were approaching the yard in front of the main house, when Mrs. Wilkes called out to them. She was out on the porch airing some rugs. "Well hello Mary, Lizzie! It's great to see you! Is everything all right at home?"
"I need to discuss a matter with Mr. Wilkes if he's around." Mary's words sounded awkward to her own ears. She was not a woman accustomed to asking for help.
"Of course, dear, right this way." Mrs. Wilkes showed Mary in to the study where Mr. Wilkes was sitting at his desk with a pile of ledgers in front of him.
When the older man saw Mary, he jumped up from his chair, "Mary, it's great to see you! Come in, come in. Have a seat. Can I get you anything?"
Startled by Mr. Wilkes' enthusiasm, Mary's gaze flew to that of his wife. Laugher danced and twinkled there. "He hates doing the books, Mary. Any interruption, even if it was a barn fire, would be welcome."
Still a bit nonplussed, Mary sat down in a comfortable chair, accepted the offer of lemonade, and began to tell Mr. Wilkes about her conversation that morning with Samuel Livingston.
"Is he going to charge you interest?" Mr. Wilkes asked.
"He didn't mention it, and I didn't think to ask."
Mr. Wilkes was taking some notes on a scrap of paper. "How much do you have to spend on a horse?"
Mary told him how much she could spare but added, "That has to pay for the cart, too, or whatever conveyance we find."
Mr. Wilkes waved that away, "I can take care of your conveyance. I've got an old broken down buggy someone gave us, a half-size wagon and a bunch of spare parts. Me and the boys can build something that will do the job for you. It might not be pretty, but it'll be safe and sturdy."
When Mary began to protest, he held up his hand. "I'll work that part out with the boys. If I end up having to buy some parts or pay the blacksmith for some metalwork, then I'll let the boys work it off, but it'll be between me and them. Man to man, you understand."
Mary, who had been learning all summer that she could no longer treat her brothers like boys, sat back in her chair without arguing. She remembered something Grady had said to her once, "If you want them to act like men, then at some point you're going to have to start treating them like men."
Mr. Wilkes made a few more scribbles on his paper and then said, "I have a friend in Montana. Runs a dairy farm. Probably has some cows to spare. I could write him if you want. He'd give you a fair price. It's hard to get livestock into this part of the state. A train would make a lot of difference, but that's years away still. We'd have to pay him to bring the cows down, but he'd likely also have all the supplies Samuel mentioned. It would be ideal if he could bring everything with him when he brings the cows so he can show you how to use it all."
; "That's asking an awful lot."
"He's an old friend. We go way back. His son runs the place now, so he's got time on his hands. Might even be able to show you how to make some good cheese from the curds." Warming up to the idea, Mr. Wilkes continued, "It'd be great to see him again. Maybe he could stay for a month or two, we could catch up. We used to be quite the pair back in the day before I got married and settled down."
"How much money are we talking?"
Mr. Wilkes considered Mary with a keen expression. "Want to know how much you'll have to pay back with yer milk, eh?" When she nodded, he said, "I don't rightly know what a good producing milk cow goes for these days. Most of the milk cows people have around here aren't bred for making milk. These cows will be more expensive, but they'll give you greater output. Maybe enough you won't need another cow in a year." Reaching into his desk and pulling out a fresh sheet of paper, he began to write.
After a couple minutes of silence, Mr. Wilkes looked up and realized Mary was still in the room. He looked startled, then smiled and said, "I forgot you, didn't I?" Not sure how to respond, Mary nodded. The older man chuckled at his own behavior, "I have to admit, I hope Bert can bring the cows down. I haven't seen him in years. Guess I got distracted." Indicating the paper in front of him, Mr. Wilkes said, "I'll write him, find out the cost and see if he can bring us two cows and supplies. Find out from Samuel if he's planning on charging you interest and if he has a deadline for when you need to have these cows in your possession. You also need to know what he'll do if you stop delivering milk. How will he recoup his investment? I'll let you know as soon as I hear back from Bert, and then we'll make a plan."
"So, you think this is a good idea?" Mary asked, still a little confused.
"If the man don't charge you interest, Mary, this is the best deal you can get. Even if he does charge you interest, depending on how much, it's still a great deal."
Her mind still catching up with his words, Mary asked, "Why would I ever stop delivering milk?"
"Lots of things happen. Illness, death in the family, etc. I don't think you'll ever default on the loan, but if you do, you need to know what he's going to do. Is he going to come after your farm? You've got to understand the risks."
Nodding her understanding, Mary excused herself and left Mr. Wilkes to his letter-writing. She found Mrs. Wilkes and Lizzie in the kitchen, baking cookies. "It smells wonderful in here." They stayed and chatted with the older woman while the cookies baked. Then she and Lizzie made their way home, a dozen fresh cookies in hand, along with an unexpected letter from Grady.
"Grady asked me to give you this after he'd gone," Mrs. Wilkes had said as she'd covertly handed the missive to her. When Mary, her stomach fluttering, viewed her with confusion, the woman added, "I don't know what's in it, and I didn't want to upset Lizzie." Mary had nodded, hands numb, as she slipped the letter into her pocket.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Once the kids were settled for the night, Mary took a lamp with her out onto the front porch. The nights were getting brisk now, but for reasons she didn't know how to articulate, she did not want to be in the house when she read Grady's letter. She wanted to be alone, but even in her own room, aloneness remained elusive.
Allowing herself a moment to remember, she saw his grey eyes snapping with mirth and his untamed blond hair moving in the afternoon breeze. She saw the way he'd looked at different times, strong like a bull and soft like a lamb depending on the situation. She remembered the way he'd threatened Pa and the way he'd held and comforted the girls when they'd gone to see the body. As she began reading Grady's letter, she heard his voice resonating in her heart, rich with texture like a triple layered chocolate cake she'd once seen. Closely guarding her secret, she'd tried not to let any of the kids know she missed him just as much as they did, probably more.
Dearest Mary,
Please forgive me for taking the cowardly way out and writing these words to you rather than saying them. You and I have known each other for many years now, but lately it seems we disagree more than we agree. I need you to listen to my words, and I was afraid if I tried to say them to you myself, you would be too busy getting mad at me to hear me out.
You've allowed your life to be controlled by fear. You were afraid of your pa for such a long time; I think maybe fear became a habit to you. Like other bad habits – drinking, cursing, the like – I think you have found the habit of fear to somehow be comforting to you. When things around us seem to be out of control, we reach for what is familiar and comfortable. For you, I think that familiar thing is fear.
I could be completely wrong – I admit that. Please give it some thought.
It took me a long time to figure this out, but you are afraid of losing your brothers and sisters, and I think that's why you don't want them going to church or being around church folk. Church folk are like everybody else – there are good ones and bad ones. Chaining the kids to your side won't ensure they love you forever. Being who you are, taking care of them, protecting them, loving them – those are the reasons they all love you as much as they do. Those are the reasons they will always love you.
You are a fine woman, and you've done right by your brothers and sisters. I am proud of you and the way you stuck with them. Lots of young girls might have run off or tried to find a way to escape, leaving the young'uns to fend for themselves. Not you, though. You are honorable and good, with a fine character. Clive, Bobby, Lizzie, and Gigi are all blessed to have you, and each one of them knows it.
Against all odds, you've raised those kids right. They won't turn their backs on you as they get older. I am worried, in your fear, you will try to force them to stay close to you. If you do that, they will rebel. Not because they don't love you, but because they need to stretch their wings. God has something wonderful in store for each of them, but they need a chance to discover it for themselves.
Think of them as colts and fillies. Don't hold the bit too tight. You've got to give them their head, and when you do, you'll find you have trained them well, and they will make you proud.
I know I don't have any right, but I want to ask a favor. Please go to church. Go for a month. Four Sundays. That's all I ask. I respect your position on God. I don't agree with it, but I respect it. I think part of the reason you want nothing to do with God is also out of fear. Fear of being let down or rejected or abandoned. It probably feels like God wasn't there for you during the tough years with your pa. He was there, though, in gift baskets and people buying your eggs and milk and in the fact your pa never discovered that cow and those hens. That alone is a divine miracle to my way of thinking. Give Him a chance. Four Sundays. If not for me, then for Bobby and Lizzie. Or better yet, for yourself.
I don't know when I'll be back to Larkspur. I wish I could come back every summer, but I doubt my job at the ranch will allow for that. We may never see each other again, Mary, but I want you to know I'm praying for you and the kids. I've given all the kids my address so they can write to me – I hope you don't mind. You all hold a special place in my heart.
Sincerely,
Grady Carlisle
Mary folded the letter back up and placed the pages into their envelope. She held it in her hand, torn between cradling and crumpling it. As she stared off into the distance, she considered Grady's words. She wasn't sure she liked all he'd had to say. She wasn't ready to think about what she didn't like, though, so she focused on the words she could handle right then.
Four Sundays. That's all I ask.
****
The next morning as everyone gathered around the breakfast table, Mary announced, "We are all going to church today."
"What?!" Clive yelled, shocked. Lizzie and Bobby remained quiet, but she could see the barely restrained joy on their faces. "Whatever for!?" Clive continued.
Mary held up her hand, palm out, silently telling Clive he needed to control his reaction. "We will go for four Sundays. It's a favor to Grady, and we're going. No arguments. After the four weeks,
we will decide whether or not we want to keep going." Lizzie, panic on her face, reached over and grabbed Bobby's arm. Mary saw the movement and said to Lizzie and Bobby, "I will not stop you from going, even if the rest of us decide we won't be returning. I give you my word."
Clive and Gigi were sent back up to change into more presentable clothes for church, and then the family of five made their way down the drive to where Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes normally picked up Bobby and Lizzie. The eggs and milk had already been delivered for the morning, and the rest of the day stretched out ahead of them. They had one more week before school started, and Mary needed to talk to Mrs. Wilkes about getting together to sew. All the kids needed clothes mended and fixed, and Mrs. Wilkes had offered to help with that. Mary wasn't particularly excited about where she was going to spend her morning, but even so, she found she had an odd little skip in her step as she walked down the drive.
Gigi, who had not carried on as Clive had at the breakfast table, was unusually quiet. Lizzie fell back from the others and took her younger sister's hand. "Is everything okay Gigi?" When Gigi shrugged, Lizzie asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Gigi said, kicking at a stone.
"Are you mad about going to church?" Lizzie tried again. Gigi shrugged. "It's not so bad, you know. I even kind of like it there," Lizzie said.
"I don't want to talk about it," Gigi finally said. "I'm not mad, but I don't want to talk about it."
Mary was stunned as she heard the conversation going on directly behind her. Gigi, who had become such a talkative and bright-eyed child over the summer, didn't want to talk about something. That couldn't be good. She heard Lizzie say, "Okay, we won't talk about it. But I love you, and that won't change, even if you don't like church." The two girls followed their older siblings in silence the rest of the way.
****