Brides of Kansas

by Bateman, Tracey V. ;

  Anthony sent a wry grin around the room. “Bear with me, folks. I’m not crazy yet.”

  Nervous laughter made its way through the smattering of people present, and Tarah felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

  “Now let me ask an obvious question. What kind of seeds would you say are inside here?”

  “What kinda fool question is that?” Mr. Collins asked, earning him a firm elbow in his side from Mrs. Collins.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Collins. Don’t burn his dinner just to teach him a lesson. I did ask a silly question.”

  Mrs. Collins blushed as her husband chortled. “Thank you, Preacher,” he said. “She just mighta done that.”

  Again the congregation rumbled with laughter.

  A thrill passed over Tarah’s heart as she sat watching Anthony speak as though he were passing the day in Tucker’s store. For the first time ever, he was reaching his congregation.

  “Even the youngest among us,” Anthony continued, “understand that inside an apple are apple seeds.”

  He glanced around the room until his eyes lit on young Sally Hammond. “Sally, when your pa plants his hayseed, what grows?”

  The little girl blushed and ducked her head. “Aw, Preacher, you know.”

  “Answer the man’s question,” Mr. Hammond said sternly.

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Anthony’s features softened. “What grows from hayseeds?”

  “Hay,” she whispered, her face glowing bright red.

  “That’s right. Even a child knows that you get what you plant.”

  He held up the apple once more. “Although you may not know how many apples come from one seed, you can be assured of the kind of fruit it will produce.”

  Tarah drew a breath and waited for him to come to the point.

  “Galatians 6:7 says, ‘Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.’” He swallowed hard and walked around the pulpit to stand directly before the congregation.

  “For the past few weeks, I’ve sown seeds of judgment and criticism to the folks in this town. The fruit I reaped from those seeds were criticism of my preaching and division among the good Christian folks of Harper.”

  Tarah’s eyes moistened as his voice faltered, and she longed to throw her arms around him and reassure him. The silence in the room was deafening as the congregation watched. When he had composed himself, Anthony continued.

  “There are only a few weeks left in my trial period. Lord willing, I will preach a series of messages on living a godly life.” He swallowed hard. “To those of you who have come each week despite my shortcomings, I thank you for your support and prayers. And I’ll do my best to make amends to the folks who felt they had to leave.”

  The sounds of sniffling filled the room as ladies placed handkerchiefs to their noses and men cleared their throats.

  The sight of Anthony standing so vulnerable and open before his congregation tore at Tarah’s heart.

  “I know it’s a mite early, but this is all the Lord placed on my heart to share.”

  Tarah smiled through tears as he said a short closing prayer and moved down the aisle toward the doorway. She hung back, waiting for her chance to shake his hand.

  Her pulse quickened at Anthony’s bright smile as she approached.

  “You did well,” she murmured. He reached out and took her proffered hand, enveloping her with his warmth.

  “Thank you, Tarah.” His gaze penetrated her, snatching her breath away. “I was wondering—”

  Tarah stumbled forward as a flash of blue taffeta and lace brushed past. Louisa claimed her place next to Anthony and clutched his arm possessively. “Oh, Anthony. You were simply wonderful.”

  Tarah resisted the urge to stomp her foot. Why did Louisa always have to show up and ruin everything?

  “Thank you, Louisa,” Anthony said, keeping his gaze fixed on Tarah.

  Louisa followed his gaze, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Wasn’t that just the most clever illustration you’ve ever seen, Tarah?”

  “It was very inspired,” she murmured, unable to break Anthony’s hold on her.

  Louisa’s voice continued as though nothing were amiss. She tapped his arm with her closed fan. “I don’t know what you meant by apologizing though. You’ve always done a wonderful job. I think folks just don’t appreciate you.”

  Anthony cleared his throat and turned his attention to Louisa, a look of faint amusement covering his face.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Tarah said.

  “Wait.” Anthony reached forward and placed a restraining hand on her arm.

  “Oh Anthony. Don’t be rude,” Louisa said, tightening her grip on his arm. “Tarah needs to join her family. See, they’re all waiting in the wagon.”

  Anthony released his hold on Tarah’s arm. “I guess it can wait,” he mumbled.

  Louisa gave a bright laugh that Tarah didn’t quite believe. “Besides, I have our picnic all packed and ready to go.”

  A frown furrowed Anthony’s brow as he turned back to Louisa. “Picnic?”

  “Why of course. We were interrupted last time.” She glanced pointedly at Tarah. “And last week it was raining.”

  “Don’t let me keep you from your picnic.” Tarah sent Anthony and Louisa as bright a smile as she could muster and hoped they didn’t notice the tremble of her lips. “Good day.”

  Without waiting for a response, she hurried to the wagon.

  Tarah jammed the needle through the cloth and made yet another crooked stitch in the banner draped in a circle across four laps. Why she had to participate in making the decorations for the end-of-school dance just because she was the teacher, she’d never know. Sewing had always been somewhat of a mystery to her, despite Cassidy’s attempts to help her learn.

  Listening to Louisa prattle on about how excited she was that Anthony would be escorting her to the silly dance grated on Tarah’s nerves like the sound of a squeaky wagon wheel. And the nods of approval from the two matrons present sent Tarah into a tizzy of emotions. She figured she must be the only person in Harper Township except Laney who could see right through Louisa’s manipulations. To Tarah’s way of thinking, there was nothing worse than knowing what a mistake Anthony was about to make and being unable to stop him without sounding like a jealous schoolgirl.

  “Don’t you think so, Tarah?”

  Tarah started, jamming the needle painfully into her finger. She jerked her hand away, pulling the banner with her. As it billowed to the floor, she felt the disapproval from Louisa’s mother. Heat crept to her cheeks, and she quickly snatched up her end of the material. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I—I pricked my finger.”

  “Well, whatever you do, don’t get blood on the material,” Louisa squealed. “It’ll be ruined.”

  “Oh, honestly. It isn’t bleeding that badly.” Tarah hastened to assure the women, whose worried frowns revealed they weren’t happy with the threat of being forced to remake the almost-finished banner. She grabbed her handkerchief from the reticule at her feet and wiped away the dot of blood on the tip of her finger, then resumed her sewing.

  “Back to what I was saying,” Louisa said, as though Tarah’s finger weren’t throbbing. “Don’t you think so, Tarah?”

  Oh, don’t I think what? Tarah thought tersely.

  She would have asked Louisa to repeat the question, but from the way the women stared at her, obviously awaiting her response, she couldn’t bring herself to admit her mind had been a million miles away.

  She cleared her throat and slid her tongue over her lips. “Yes, I suppose so,” she murmured, returning her gaze to her crooked stitches.

  “You see, I told you if anyone would know, it would be Tarah. Her pa being on the town council and all.” The triumph in Louisa’s voice caused Tarah’s stomach to do a flip-flop.

  What on earth had she just confirmed?

  “Do you really think so, Tarah?” asked Louisa’s ma. “It would be wonderful if Anthony w
ere kept on as preacher after his trial is over. He’s been preaching so beautifully the past few weeks. And now that everyone has started coming to services again, I’d be mighty surprised if the town council didn’t approve him as the permanent preacher.”

  “Oh.” How did they expect her to know whether Anthony was to be kept on or not? “It certainly would be wonderful. But I suppose we’ll have to wait and see with everyone else.”

  “But I thought you just said he would be,” Louisa challenged, her green eyes narrowing. “Really, Tarah, if you didn’t know, you should have just said so.”

  “I–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest I knew for sure.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Hannah Simpson, the doctor’s wife, said soothingly. “Tarah was speculating just like the rest of us.”

  Tarah could have kissed the woman. She glanced up to give her a grateful smile and caught her breath at the look of sympathy in Hannah’s eyes.

  “Well,” Louisa said haughtily. “One would certainly think the daughter of the most prominent member of the town council would know something. I certainly would if my father had ever been elected to the council.”

  Maybe your father would have been voted to the town council if he hadn’t foreclosed on half of the farms in the township in the last four years. Tarah knew it was a sore topic for Louisa that her pa wasn’t directly involved in the town business. But the banker was ruthless, she had heard her pa comment. Never once had he extended mercy. If a person was late on a payment, the bank took the land—lock, stock, and barrel.

  Thankfully Pa had made a success of the St. John ranch before the area was heavily settled. He didn’t have to rely on good crops to make ends meet, and as long as the cattle and horses did well at auction, the ranch thrived.

  “My pa doesn’t share town business with me, Louisa. And I wouldn’t ask him to.”

  Louisa sniffed and resumed her delicate stitching. “Still, I’d find a way to make sure Anthony was kept on. But I guess that’s because he and I…” A delicate blush appeared on her cheeks as she slid her gaze to Tarah’s. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t say anything yet. Anthony wants to wait until he knows for sure he has a way to support us.”

  “Why, Louisa.” Mrs. Thomas stopped sewing and stared with delight at her daughter. “Why haven’t you told me?”

  “W–well,” Louisa’s voice faltered, and she glanced from Tarah to her mother. “We haven’t made any firm plans yet.”

  Tarah felt the high collar of her gown choking her. Her throat went suddenly dry, her palms grew damp, and she was almost sure she felt a faint coming on. She stared dumbly at Louisa as her mother wrapped her arms around her and squealed gleefully.

  “My baby, finally getting married. We’ll have to order a copy of the latest Godey’s Lady’s Book to see what is in fashion for wedding gowns. And of course we must order the finest silk and lace from Paris.” Her eyes widened with inspiration. “Your brother Caleb will be coming home from the university in a couple of weeks. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he stood up next to Anthony at the wedding?”

  “Well, I don’t know, Mother,” Louisa mumbled. “Anthony has brothers he might prefer.”

  Mrs. Thomas waved away Louisa’s comment. “And, oh Tarah,” she babbled on, as though Tarah’s heart weren’t nearly breaking in two, “do you think Cassidy would be available to make the gown? She did such a fine job on Louisa’s ball gown last year.”

  Choking back the tears, Tarah spoke around a lump in her throat. “Why, I don’t know. Pa doesn’t want her taking on too much with the new baby coming.”

  “Oh well, we don’t need to speak about such an indelicate topic, dear,” Mrs. Thomas reproved. “I’m sure Cassidy would be appalled by your manners.”

  Mrs. Simpson chuckled. “Around a doctor’s home, childbirth is hardly an indelicate subject.”

  Thankfully Mrs. Simpson had volunteered to head up the decorating committee.

  Mrs. Thomas’s lips thinned into a tight smile. “I never have quite gotten used to the crudities of life out here. In Charleston, we would never consider speaking of such things in the parlor.”

  “I do apologize, Mrs. Thomas,” Tarah said. “I don’t know what I was thinking to bring up such a subject.”

  Mollified, the older woman nodded and gave a delicate wave of her hand. “Oh well. I suppose I should expect such manners from a young lady raised in these parts,” she said charitably. “We can hardly fault you for your manners.”

  Tarah’s temper flared. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs. Simpson spoke up first. “How about some coffee and apple pie, ladies? I think we’re about finished for today. One more session, and the banner will be completed.” She laid the banner aside with care and turned to Tarah. “Will you help me bring in the refreshments, Tarah dear?”

  Grateful for the opportunity to escape, Tarah lifted the banner from her lap and fairly bolted from the room.

  Once inside the kitchen, Mrs. Simpson took hold of Tarah’s arms and fixed her with a firm gaze.

  “Now you listen to me, Tarah St. John. Don’t let them make you feel like you’re less than they are. You hear?”

  Hot tears sprang to Tarah’s eyes. Unable to utter a word, she nodded.

  “You come from the finest family I know, or I wouldn’t be allowing my Camilla to marry your brother, now, would I?”

  “M–marry?” Tarah croaked.

  Mrs. Simpson’s eyes grew wide, and she released Tarah’s arms. “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Know what?” Could this day bring any more bad news? Surely Mrs. Simpson was speaking of the future when Sam and Camilla would inevitably become betrothed.

  “Oh honey. I can’t believe they haven’t told you yet. Your ma and pa gave their blessing a week ago.”

  “B–blessing?” she croaked. Panic welled up in Tarah, and dread knotted her stomach, making her suddenly ill. “Do you mean Sam and Camilla are…?”

  A worried frown creased Mrs. Simpson’s brow. “It never occurred to me you didn’t know. I can’t imagine why…” She studied Tarah’s face for a moment, then nodded. “You’re in love with Anthony, aren’t you?” Compassion filled her eyes. “I thought I saw it while we were sitting in there, but I wasn’t sure.”

  Unable to deny the statement, Tarah sank into a kitchen chair and rested her chin glumly in her palm. “I guess my family didn’t want to hurt me with the news my younger brother is getting married. Especially when the man I love is marrying someone else.”

  Mrs. Simpson snorted. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

  Tarah’s gaze darted to the older woman. “What do you mean?”

  “Well.” She glanced toward the kitchen door and dropped her voice a notch. “I’m not one to gossip, but did you notice how quiet Louisa got when her ma started talking about ordering silk from Paris?”

  Now that she mentioned it, Louisa had seemed a mite nervous.

  “You see? You noticed it, too.” Mrs. Simpson gave a quick nod and collected four plates, four cups, and a tray from the cabinet. She allowed Tarah to digest the hopeful news while she cut four generous slices of apple pie. “I’d bet my right arm Louisa was just trying to get under your skin and got herself dug into a hole instead.” She gave a quick laugh. “I’d love to see her try to scratch her way out.”

  Tarah shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Eventually he’ll ask her. And if I know Louisa, she’ll make it happen pretty quickly now that her ma thinks she’s already snagged him.”

  “If that day ever comes, I’ll be the most surprised woman in Harper,” Mrs. Simpson retorted. “I’ve watched him, and I’ll tell you, our young preacher’s in love. But not with Louisa.”

  Tarah groaned inwardly. Bad enough to lose him to Louisa, but at least she could console herself that he was being fooled. What other woman could possibly have won his affections without Tarah’s notice?

  “You really don’t see it, do you, honey?”

  “See what, Mrs. Simpson?”


  “Unless I miss my guess—and I rarely do—our preacher is head over heels in love with a certain Miss St. John.”

  “Oh Mrs. Simpson, you don’t have to say that. Anthony and I have become friends. But he’s smitten with Louisa.”

  Lifting the tray, Mrs. Simpson sent Tarah a confident smile. “Mark my words. Anthony may not know it yet, but you’re the woman for him. You just have to make him see it.”

  Tarah lifted her chin, remembering the humiliating experience of Anthony’s amusement the one time she had attempted to flirt. “I won’t resort to manipulating him like…well, like some people would. If Anthony can’t see the truth, then that’s his own misfortune.”

  Mrs. Simpson chuckled and walked to the door, then turned back to Tarah.

  “Anthony knows you’re not like Louisa. But do you have to be as bristly as a cat getting ready to pounce all the time?” she whispered. “He’s probably scared to death you’ll scratch his eyes out if he ever speaks his mind.” She opened the door before Tarah could reply.

  “Now who’s ready for some of my famous apple pie?”

  Chapter 11

  Anthony drove the last nail into place, then tested the shutter to see if it would swing properly.

  “Ya did it, Preacher,” Laney said, nodding in grudging approval. “Reckon Mr. Garner’s gonna be mighty glad we come out here to fix up the mess my pa made of the place.”

  “Reckon so,” Anthony replied. He knew Laney still thought he was courting Louisa, and it gave him no pleasure that he was unable to convince her otherwise. Even more embarrassing was the fact that this little urchin had doubts about his intelligence because of that belief.

  “Me an’ Ben finished puttin’ all the junk in a pile. Can I light it on fire?”

  “I think I’d better do that,” Anthony said. “But you can pour the kerosene over the pile.”

  She brightened at the idea. “Can I do it now?”

  “Yes, but don’t try to light it.”

  Flashing a quick grin, Laney took off across the yard.