Prairie Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Now the wiggly ball of fur was wrapped in an old quilt John’s mother had given him when he moved from North Dakota. He had used it to wrap some of the things that could break easily. Since he had been at the boardinghouse, it had remained in the corner where he dropped it after unwrapping the framed photos of his family that spread across the top of the bureau in his room. Sometimes when he undressed, his shoes landed on the quilt, transferring dirt and mud to the surface of the coverlet. He was sure this dog didn’t care if the quilt wasn’t too clean. Besides, by the time they arrived at the farm, the puppy might have soiled it, anyway.

  Maggie carried a bowl of stew to the table. After she set it down, she heard a horse ride up. Although she was lonely in the house by herself, she wasn’t sure she wanted unannounced company this late in the evening. On most days, she would have already been through eating and washing the dishes by now, but she had spent extra time in the barn with Stormy. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to come in the house, but she felt less lonely when she could talk to her horse. She set a pan of hot corn bread on the table and covered it with a tea towel to keep it piping hot. Then she went to the door to peek out between the curtains on the window.

  It was so dark that she could see only shapes and shadows. A man was having a little trouble dismounting from the horse. He carried some kind of bundle that moved a lot. Finally, both feet were planted on the ground, but he stood there a minute, looking down. From the soft murmur of a masculine voice she could hear through the door, the man was talking to the bundle.

  Maggie hoped he wasn’t some kind of lunatic. Her door had a lock on it, but she seldom used it. However, she reached for the skeleton key and inserted it into the lock. Before she had time to turn it, the man started toward the house. His gait looked familiar. Just before he stepped up on the porch, Maggie caught a glimpse of his face in the moonlight. It was John Collins!

  She placed her hand on her chest to try to quell the rapid beating of her heart. Lately, every time he came near, she went hot all over and her knees felt weak. She tried to convince herself that she was only responding to his kindness, but she knew that didn’t completely explain what she felt.

  Maggie took the key out of the lock and hung it on the hook between the door and the window before pulling the door open.

  “Mr. Collins, what are you doing here this time of night?”

  A smile lit his face. “I brought you a present.”

  Maggie shook her head. “I can’t accept anything else from you.”

  John pulled the edge of the dirty quilt away from a squirmy mass of fur in his arms. The cutest puppy face she had ever seen peeked over the fabric.

  “Maggie, I wanted to replace what I took from you. Please don’t say no.” He was able to get a good hold on the bundle with one arm, so he removed his hat. “I know it won’t be the same as the dog you lost, but he could be a real friend to you if you let him.”

  Maggie opened the door farther and moved back to give him room to enter. “Please, come in.” After he stepped through the opening, she shut the door to keep the cool air out.

  How did the man know that a puppy was just what she needed? Maggie guessed it had to be John who came to the barn so early every morning. Yesterday she had tried to get there while he was still working, but when she arrived, he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Mr. Collins, you do too much for me as it is.”

  His eyes twinkled before he answered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  No matter how hard he tried to sound sincere, Maggie knew different.

  As if he just that moment realized he still held the wiggling puppy, he looked down and pulled the quilt away some more. He held the little animal out to her.

  If Maggie hadn’t already fallen in love with it, she would have now. The big brown eyes were full of mischief and affection as the puppy squirmed, trying to reach her face with its tongue.

  “If you’ll hold him for me, I’ll get something to make him a bed.” She dropped a quick kiss on the furry head before she deposited the warm puppy back into John’s arms.

  She went into the room that had been Vally’s and returned with a wooden crate. She set it near the fireplace and turned to go get something to line the box to keep him warm. All the time, John played with the puppy, talking nonsense to him. She grinned as she looked at them.

  “Why don’t you use this old quilt in the box?” John pulled the puppy under one arm and reached down to pick up the cover that now lay on the floor.

  “I can probably find something. You need to keep that.”

  John shook his head. “No, I’m not using it anyway. It’s just one of Mother’s old quilts.”

  After Maggie finished making the bed, she asked John if he had eaten supper. When he said he hadn’t had time, she offered to share her stew and corn bread with him.

  After he was seated at the table, John glanced at Maggie. “Would it be all right if I say grace before we eat?”

  Maggie liked the way he talked to God as if He were a friend.

  John smiled when she passed the hot bread to him. “I really like corn bread with stew. My father says Mother makes the best corn bread in the whole church.”

  Maggie handed him the butter and watched him slather it on. “Does she?”

  He looked up almost as if he didn’t know what she meant then laughed. “She has as long as I remember.” He took a bite and smiled while he chewed it. “This is as good as hers is.” He reached for his spoon and dipped it into the fragrant broth. “She always laughs when he says she is a good cook. Evidently, she didn’t know how when they married.”

  Maggie liked the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his parents. “Where are you from?”

  “North Dakota. My father is a pastor there, but he also lives on the farm that belonged to my grandfather.”

  Quiet fell around the table as they continued to enjoy the food, and Maggie tried to think of what else to ask him. “Why did you come to Wayzata?”

  “I wanted to venture out on my own. The railroad had been looking for men to train as telegraphers. When I became proficient, the position of stationmaster came open here, and they offered it to me.” John put his spoon back into his bowl and trained his gaze on Maggie. “I’m really glad they did.”

  I am, too.

  Later as John started to leave, Maggie couldn’t believe that they had found so much to talk about. It almost felt as if they were old friends.

  John stopped just before he opened the door. “Thank you, Maggie, for the good food … and the congenial company.”

  Maggie glanced at the crate where her puppy snuggled into the quilt fast asleep. “Thank you for the puppy.”

  John looked toward the box. “What are you going to name him?”

  Maggie thought for a minute before answering. “With that mask on his face and his bright eyes, I think I’ll call him Rascal.”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me.” John settled his hat on his head and reached for the doorknob.

  “John, thank you for all the work you’ve done for me, too.” Maggie clasped her hands in front of her waist and gave him a tentative smile. “But you can stop. I can take care of things now.”

  She couldn’t interpret the expression on John’s face, but when he went out and the door shut behind him, she said to herself, “You’re a good man, John Collins. A very good man.”

  Chapter 4

  Before she went to bed, Maggie played with the puppy on the rug in front of the fireplace. Then she took him outside until he finally did his business in the yard behind the house. When they came back inside, she sat in the rocker and watched the fire as it died down, all the time rocking the puppy as it snuggled close against her heart. After she put him in the box and covered him with the quilt, Rascal slept.

  Maggie was surprised that she slept so peacefully that night. Since Rascal was in a strange place, she had expected him to wake her several times during the night, but it didn’t happen. Instead, Ma
ggie woke early and jumped out of bed, looking forward to taking care of her new puppy. He gave her an added purpose in life, a purpose that had been missing since she’d lost her brother a month ago.

  John Collins was a good man. But Maggie had already decided that, hadn’t she? How could any man understand what she needed and meet that need for her? Yet John had done that very thing. This puppy filled a void in her heart.

  Maggie needed to concentrate on something besides the never-ending work. Spring had arrived, and she didn’t like to think about what that meant. After growing up on the farm, she understood just how much work it involved. Since she was old enough to know what was going on, she had watched her parents fight the forces of nature to keep their land. Through good seasons and bad, Momma and Daddy had worked, and now the farm was something to be proud of.

  If only her parents hadn’t met their sad end. They had been traveling to Minneapolis to look at new homes. They planned to get rid of their snug cabin and purchase a two-story house. After the double funeral, it was all she and Vally could do just to keep the farm going. Now it was up to her, and she felt alone in the face of almost insurmountable odds. She didn’t want to think about the possibility of having to sell the farm until she tried her best to keep it. Just having Rascal to talk to gave Maggie the feeling that she could make it.

  After she took the dog back outside, she fixed breakfast for both of them. She pulled Rolf’s tin pans out of the bottom cabinet where she had put them after he died. She filled one with water and the other with bread soaked in milk and set them on the floor near the table. While she ate, she talked to the darling puppy. Every time she spoke, Rascal turned those big brown eyes toward her and looked as if he understood every word she said. By the size of his paws, Maggie knew he was going to be large when he grew up. Although his puppy fur was short, it was thick and wooly. She felt sure he would be a long-haired dog when he was grown.

  When she went out to the barn, Rascal darted around her, jumping and nipping playfully at her skirt until she found herself laughing into the fresh spring air. Maggie had forgotten how good it felt to laugh. Because she often went to see about the animals, the path was dry and packed down. At least the little dog wouldn’t pick up mud to track into the house.

  While Maggie checked on things, Rascal became acquainted with every nook and cranny of the building. He even made friends with all the livestock. She and Rascal didn’t stay very long, because, as usual, John must have taken care of the chores. Maggie decided that she would get up really early tomorrow so she could insist that he not come anymore. The thought caused an unhappy catch in her heart. She liked knowing he was around, even when she didn’t actually see him, but she felt odd about it. He had more than compensated for Rolf’s death. His constant penance made her feel guilty, as though she were taking advantage of his kindness.

  Maggie turned the animals out into the pasture to spend part of the day, but she returned before it got too cool and herded them into the shelter. The night wind was still sharp, and she didn’t see any reason to make the animals stay out when she had a warm barn for them. Every time she entered the barn, she pictured the man who often worked there. She was sure his dark curls fell across his forehead while he worked. She had seen them there on many occasions. Her hands itched to reach up and push them back so she could see the sparkle in his eyes, which were the color of the leaves on the trees in the pasture.

  The next morning, Maggie did awaken before dawn. Quietly, she stoked the fire and dressed in front of it, but Rascal woke anyway. She watched as he rose up on his front legs and stretched his neck. One eye opened and looked at her. Then he hopped up and gave a happy yip. Maggie decided to take him with her to meet John in the barn.

  This time she caught him. He didn’t hear her come in because he was singing:

  What a Friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear!

  What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer!

  O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear,

  All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.

  Have we trials and temptations? Is there trouble anywhere?

  We should never be discouraged; take it to the Lord in prayer.

  Can we find a friend so faithful who will all our sorrows share?

  Jesus knows our every weakness; take it to the Lord in prayer.

  The lyrics sung in his strong baritone resonated through the lofty structure. Maggie stood inside the door and listened, enjoying the texture he added to the words. When John paused before going on to the third verse, Rascal yipped and tumbled toward him, stirring up the straw on the floor as he went.

  John turned. “Maggie.” The sound of her name spoken in such a tender tone made her breath catch.

  His gaze sought hers, and they connected for a moment before the little puppy jumped up on his legs, seeking attention. For an instant, Maggie wished she was adorable like the puppy and could snuggle in John’s arms. While he knelt and picked up Rascal, Maggie shook her head, trying to clear it of the crazy thoughts.

  John stood with the puppy in his arms. Rascal pawed at him and tried to reach John’s face with his tongue. “What are you doing out here so early, Maggie?”

  She took a step closer. “I wanted to tell you that you don’t need to do my chores anymore, John. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but you don’t owe me anything.” She ended on a whisper.

  John’s gaze never wavered from her face. “I want to come, Maggie. Although my father was a pastor, I grew up on a farm. Since I live at the boardinghouse and work at the depot, I miss the physical labor. It’s a blessing for me to have a place to get all this exercise.” Rascal succeeded in reaching John’s chin with his tongue. John raised his head a little higher. “Besides, I need to check on this little mutt.” He gave the puppy a big hug while he scratched it behind the ears.

  A week later, the desire to do a thorough spring cleaning filled Maggie with restlessness. After going to the barn and letting the animals out into the sunshine, she headed toward the house. She pulled all the quilts off her bed then went into the room that had been Valter’s. There was no need to change his. Evidently Holly had washed the linens during the three weeks when she had stayed at the farm. Maggie hadn’t even realized that.

  While the water heated on the stove, Maggie glanced toward Rascal. The puppy slept on the rug in front of the fireplace. The quilt John had wrapped around the dog was pretty dirty, so she went to the box and lifted it out. She hadn’t paid much attention to it when she made the bed the night John brought Rascal to her. Maggie looked closer at the places on the quilt where it wasn’t soiled. This wasn’t just some old quilt as John said. Someone had worked hard to piece beautiful fabric together into a lovely pattern.

  Maggie spread the large cover on the floor. Running her fingertips over one clean area, she appreciated the predominantly light green pattern that made up the center section of the quilt. The fabric had a fine texture. Many patches were made of this color. The other patches were a variety of lovely hues that coordinated with the green. Strips of creamy fabric surrounded each block, framing it. The small squares on each corner of the frame were flannel with yellow dots. Maggie held up a corner of the coverlet. This quilt was a work of art.

  Maggie had learned to sew by helping her mother make many of the quilts her family used over the years. This quilt was not some haphazard job. It had been well planned. Did John realize how much work went into making this coverlet? Maggie hated to see it ruined or mistreated by a rambunctious puppy. She went to the cedar chest and searched for an old quilt that had seen better days. After putting it in the dog’s bed, she lovingly washed the one John had brought.

  As she finished washing each quilt, she hung it across the clothesline in the backyard to dry. Once John’s quilt was spread out in the bright sunlight, Maggie saw the exquisite beauty that had been hidden under all that soil. While she handled it, she noticed several places where the stitches h
ad pulled apart. Maggie decided to restore the quilt and return it to John. It should stay in his family. The idea of doing something nice for him filled her with a sense of excitement. After all he’d done for her, this was the least she could do.

  When she went back into the house, Maggie took out the sewing basket. It had been a while since she’d thought of replenishing these supplies. She needed more thread and needles. After lunch, she put Rascal in his box for a nap. The puppy had worn himself out chasing butterflies and grasshoppers around the yard while Maggie had washed the quilts.

  After Rascal fell asleep, Maggie saddled Stormy and headed into Wayzata. Each time she went into town, she noticed many changes. It amazed her how quickly they took place. Because of Lake Minnetonka, people from other places often came to their city. The streets bustled with activity. Today strangers in one of those new motorcars made their way down the main street. Maggie had to keep a tight rein on Stormy. Those noisy contraptions made the horse a little skittish. She tied the animal to a hitching post on a side street and walked to the mercantile. Maggie hoped those people would keep their vehicle on the main thoroughfare and not venture anywhere near her mare.

  While Maggie was choosing thread, Holly walked up behind her. “Maggie, it’s good to see you in town.”

  Maggie turned and gave her friend a hug. “I’m glad I ran into you, too.”

  “I’ve been planning to go out to the farm to see you.” Holly picked up a couple of spools of thread.

  “Why don’t you come tomorrow?” It would feel good to have company again. “I’ll fix lunch, and we can make a day of it. Hans can come over for lunch if he wants to. I’m restoring a quilt John Collins left at the house.”