Prairie Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  She cocked her head as though to listen then nodded in agreement. But she hadn’t heard the robin’s song. The music she heard was the music of her own heart. Dora let the sweet melody swirl through her until she thought she could contain it no longer. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

  I must stop. My heart is running away from my head. He’ll soon be gone.

  She blinked, struggling to settle her emotions. Then a wayward thought surfaced. All the more reason to enjoy every precious moment we have left to share.

  They’d come to the corner, and he grasped her elbow, gently guiding her across the street.

  Her nerves tightened until she feared her heart would burst. She forced herself to stare straight ahead. Surely his behavior was typical, and it was her heightened awareness of him that now made his every word and every touch reverberate with shock waves.

  “I hope you don’t think I’m presumptuous.” He let her arm go as they reached the other side of the street. Suddenly, her legs went weak. To cover her confusion, she paused to smooth her skirt.

  “I ordered a picnic lunch,” he said. “I was hoping you’d share it with me in the park after the service.”

  “Why I’d like that very much.” Her throat tightened so that her words squeaked. Thankfully they met several others on their way to church and a round of greetings and introductions gave Dora’s breathing a chance to slow.

  Her senses remained razor-sharp throughout the service. The singing seemed richer and fuller than she remembered as Josh’s deep voice blended with hers. The light coming through the windows seemed to have a white quality about it, cleansing those in its path.

  Luke spoke of love, and every word dripped honey into Dora’s heart.

  Afterwards wrapped in a glow, Dora filed down the aisle until she stood before Mary and Luke.

  “I’d like you to meet Josh Rivers.” She tried to ignore Mary’s pleased expression as she made the introductions.

  When Mary hugged her, Dora whispered in her ear, “I’ve agreed to have lunch with Josh. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Mary snorted. “Mind. I guess not. I’m glad you’ve decided to open your eyes.”

  “It’s not that way.” But she knew her protests were wasted as Mary patted her cheek and nodded.

  “Dora, I’ve got eyes, too, and I know what I see.”

  Dora gave up and said good-bye.

  They walked to the hotel where Josh picked up the picnic lunch he had ordered. Then they sauntered to the center of town to the park burgeoning with spring.

  “The young preacher delivered a good sermon.” Josh spread a blanket on the grass and opened the basket.

  “He’s a good man.” She helped set out the jug of lemonade and glasses. “We’re blessed to have him.”

  Josh passed the plate of sandwiches to her, and she chose egg salad. He chose one with roast beef and leaned his back against a tree. “This seems a real nice little town.”

  “I think it is. We have all the essentials—school, church, stores—plus lots of nice extras.” She went on to tell about the social activities.

  “This park is really beautiful.” She followed his glance from the little footbridge to the gazebo nestled in the trees and to the winding path along the lake.

  “It began as someone’s yard. A lady from England. She loved flowers and gardens. Many of the flower gardens were made by her.” She pointed out the ones she was certain had been original. “Her husband built the footbridge. When she died, she left the land to the town with the stipulation that it be used as a park.” Josh nodded, his eyes warm with interest.

  Her tongue grew thick at the look on his face, and she ducked her head to finish her story. “That was Mrs. Free. The town was built on a piece of her husband’s land. Hence the name, Freebank.”

  “Gives the town a right nice feel. I can see why you like this place so much.”

  He didn’t know the half of it. And she couldn’t tell him.

  Neither of them spoke. Around them filtered the sounds of other people in the park, accompanied by the swelling songs of birds rejoicing in spring and love and building new nests.

  Josh cleared his throat, and Dora jerked her gaze to him.

  He watched her with a keenness that sent her heart into flight.

  “Doc says I’ll be able to go in a few more days.”

  She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. She knew this moment would come. Perhaps it was best to come sooner rather than later—before her heart led her where she could not go. Nevertheless, her insides plummeted like a rock.

  “I need to get going.”

  Again she nodded, well aware of how much work faced him.

  He pushed away from his backrest and leaned toward her. He was so close, she could have touched his face with her trembling fingertips. She squeezed her hands into a tight ball and buried them in her lap.

  “Dora.” His voice was low and intense. “I haven’t known you very long, but it’s long enough for me to realize that—er.” Josh stumbled on his words. “I—I… well, I can’t imagine never seeing you again.”

  Her heart pounded in her throat as, dumbstruck, she stared at him.

  “Dora, I’ve fallen madly and completely in love with you. Just seeing your face and hearing your voice makes my heart sing like these spring-crazed birds around us.”

  Every word dropped like gentle rain into her heart, adding to the emotion that she had been collecting there—emotion that now threatened to overflow the barriers she had erected.

  “Dora, I’m asking you to marry me and go with me to the foothills. We’ll find the prettiest spot in all the world and build our own little home, filled with love and laughter.”

  His words were a song of love—the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. And she almost succumbed. Almost. Then she forced herself to remember the years she’d spent on the farm with her parents. Homesteading held no allure for her. She knew all too well what it meant.

  She would never again make herself endure such suffering and hardship.

  “Josh, I’m flattered.” She avoided his gaze. “But I can’t.”

  She heard him sharply inhale a breath and hated herself for hurting him.

  “I guess I read you wrong.” His voice sounded strained. “I thought you might care about me.”

  Her heart shredded. “You weren’t wrong,” she whispered. “I do care about you.” She swallowed hard. “I love you.”

  His smile flashed, and he leaned forward eagerly.

  But she turned away. “But I would never go homesteading.”

  He jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “Why not?”

  Stung by his reaction, she faced him. “I spent two years of sheer torture living without enough of anything and never having one bit of luxury or enjoyment. Homesteading meant nothing but work and deprivation, and I vowed I would never do it again.”

  The light fled from his eyes, and for a moment she wished she could change her mind. But remembering those years, she stiffened.

  “I literally thought I would die.” Every nerve in her body ached just remembering. “My dad knew nothing of farming. He made every mistake in the book. We ran out of food the first winter and had to accept charity from some neighbors. My dad and brother built a house, but there wasn’t enough money for more than the shell. Snow came through the cracks. I woke up more than once with my toes numb from cold.” She choked back tears. “I didn’t get warm all winter.” Suddenly she couldn’t stop. “I outgrew my clothes and had to wear some of my grandmother’s old dresses, which made me feel dirt-ugly. Day in and day out, we did nothing but work. There was no church, no school, no nothing.” She caught her breath. “I didn’t know if we’d starve to death or freeze or simply die of exhaustion.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll never go through such torture again.”

  Josh stared at her, his eyes round. She turned away, not wanting his pity.

  “Oh, Dora, it sounds all horns and rattles. I’m sorry it was so bad.” He paused. �
�But homesteading isn’t always that way. I’ve talked to many—“

  “I’ve heard plenty of lies, too,” she hissed. “But I’ve been there. I know.”

  He nodded. “How are your folks now?”

  “They were fine when I saw them at Christmas.” She found it impossible to understand how the rest of her family could now be so content. She wouldn’t attempt to offer Josh an explanation.

  “Are things any better for them?”

  “I suppose.” The inside of the house had been finished, the oilcloth placed on the floors, and Mother had been given a new dress. Father talked about spring as if it held all the diamonds in the world.

  She felt, rather than saw, Josh nod. “They believed the dream and set out to realize it.”

  She flung around to face him. “What dream? More like a nightmare, if you ask me.” She swept her gaze over the park. “A dream would be beautiful like this—full of pleasure and enjoyment. Not pinched, barely alive torture.”

  He shrugged and held out his hands in surrender. “I can see you aren’t prepared to look at this any other way.”

  “What other way is there?”

  “There’s sacrifice in order to achieve a goal. You said your father wasn’t a farmer, yet many people have learned because they’re willing to learn. That’s what I meant when I asked how things are now. Did your father learn how to farm? Did your family have faith? Do they still?”

  “Faith?” She fairly spit the word out. “Faith is believing in what God promises, not what the government promises. Faith is using the good sense God gives us, not jumping in front of a train and expecting God to rescue us.”

  “You’re right as far as you go—but faith also includes venturing into the unknown and believing, even when we can’t see the end result.”

  She shook her head. “I guess you can use words any way you want, but it all boils down to one thing. It’s madness to try and build something out of nothing.”

  “Ah, but there’s where you’re wrong. It isn’t, as you say, ‘nothing.’ God has provided the best land in the world practically free. And I know about cattle and farming. I know how to make something out of the bounty God has offered.”

  She frowned. “What about grasshoppers, hail, frost? What about sickness? What about all the things over which you have no control?”

  He smiled sadly. “None of us can control the future whether we live in town or on a homestead. That’s where faith comes in. If you think you can guarantee a safe and predictable future by living in town and refusing to accept love or take risks, then I fear you are in for a dry-bones existence or a very harsh disappointment. Trusting God means leaving the future in His hands.”

  Rather than answer, Dora gathered up the leftover sandwiches and the untouched cake and returned them to the basket. Josh flung the blanket over his shoulder and scooped up the basket, waiting for Dora to draw abreast. Silently, they headed home, their steps quicker and more determined than they had been earlier. As they crossed Main Street, Josh drew in a sharp breath and ducked down a lane.

  Dora stared after him. He hurried to the shadow of a wood shed and pulled close to the building.

  “Josh?” She squinted, trying to see his face in the gloom.

  “Shush.”

  Hesitating, she tried to decide if she should follow or wait. Finally, deciding it would be best to join him, she turned into the alley. At the same time, he reappeared from the building’s shadows and stepped into the sunlight, his eyes searching behind her. “I’m dead certain that was Slim and Chester.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “Who?”

  “The varmints who stole my money and left me half-dead.” His eyes darkened and he frowned. “Bet they’d be surprised to see me.”

  Dora gaped at him.

  “In fact, I might just jump out of the shadows and scare the dickens out of them.”

  Her heart did a strange little flip-flop and her throat seemed suddenly too tight. “Do you suppose they’re looking for you?” She had visions of them hunting Josh down and finishing what they’d begun almost two weeks ago.

  “I’m guessing they think I’m dead.”

  A shudder raced up her spine. Josh’s steps halted, and she was surprised to see that they had arrived at her house. Her glance jerked from her front door to Josh’s face and then past his shoulder. When she saw no approaching figures, she turned her concentration to Josh and what he was saying.

  “I wish you’d give my offer more thought. The future is not as frightening as you think—especially when you share it with someone you love.”

  She shook her head. The present was suddenly frightening enough. Never mind the future. But her anger had disappeared and she regretted saying all those things. “Josh, I really do love you. But I cannot possibly become a homesteader’s wife. I’m sorry.” Unable to bear the pain in his eyes, she fled indoors.

  Chapter 4

  Dora peered out from her bedcovers into the darkness and prayed for strength.

  She knew what was right for her, but as she reflected on her conversation with Josh, her choices seemed childish and fearful. Hadn’t God given her this place and this job? She wasn’t about to toss these blessings back in His face.

  In time Josh would forget her.

  She tossed about, seeking a comfortable position, trying desperately to avoid the truth.

  She would never forget him. Not if she lived to be a hundred years old. She tried in vain to ignore the ache in her heart.

  Abandoning the hope of sleep, she waited for morning and the moment that she could hurry across the street. Even as her pulse raced at the thought, she wondered how she would face him.

  The next morning, she hesitated before she opened the door and entered Doc’s house. Doc greeted Dora by saying, “Our young man is out.”

  “Josh?”

  “Aye, Josh. He was dressed and waiting when I got up. Said he was going for a ride. Time to test his strength, he said.” Doc shook his head. “Seemed mighty troubled about something in my opinion.” He studied Dora with questioning eyes.

  In no mood to match wits with Doc, she turned and hastened across the room to fling open the door to the bedroom. The bed was tossed, but Josh and his clothes were missing. She swallowed hard.

  Perhaps it was for the best. Then she saw his saddlebags hooked on the post, his books, and the picture of his family lying on the shelf. Relief flooded her.

  Doc had followed her, and she said to him, “He must have gone for a ride like you said. See, he’s left his things.”

  “Well, I didn’t think he’d leave without saying good-bye,” Doc gruffly replied. “I must be on my way.”

  She nodded. “And I have much to do.”

  But all the time she cleaned and dusted and prepared meals and helped Doc with patients, her ears were tuned to catch the sound of a horse riding into the yard or boots crossing the veranda.

  The day ended without hearing the sounds she strained to catch, and she returned home without seeing him.

  Her nerves tight as fence wire under a heavy frost, she paced her rooms for an hour; then, unable to endure the strain any longer, she grabbed a sweater and hurried out the door. Perhaps a visit to Mary would ease her mind.

  At the parsonage, Mary drew Dora quickly inside. “I’ve been longing for some company. Luke’s at the church.”

  Dora hid her relief at the news. Sometimes Luke seemed to see through her with startling clarity. He was often right, a fact which, she admitted wryly, did nothing to make her more comfortable. Smiling at Mary’s eagerness, she allowed herself to be led into the kitchen. She could always talk freely with Mary.

  “What brings you here so early in the week? I thought you’d be taking a stroll in the park with that handsome young man of yours.”

  “He’s not mine.”

  “Girl, you must be blind. I saw the way his eyes followed you. If that young man isn’t head over heels in love, than I’m—I’m an old fat hen.”

  Dora grinned, a
nd putting her hands in her armpits, she strutted around the room. “Cluck, cluck,” she said, flapping her elbows.

  Mary scowled. “You don’t fool me. I saw the two of you together.” She waited for Dora to return to her chair. “So what’s the problem?”

  Tossing her head, Dora asked, “Who says there’s a problem?”

  “Fine. Pretend you didn’t come to see me because something’s troubling you. We’ll simply have ourselves a nice cup of tea.” She filled the pot as she spoke. “And we’ll talk about something else.” She brought the pot to the table and set out two cups. “Did you see the new outfit Mrs. Mellon had on? Where does she get her clothes? There’s nothing like that in town, and I certainly didn’t see anything that special in the Eaton’s catalog. I think it was real fur on the collar of her dress.” Mary closed her eyes for a moment. “Don’t you think I’d look lovely in such a nice outfit?”

  She poured the tea and hurried on. “And where was Abigail? She hasn’t been to church for three weeks now. Have you heard if she’s ill or away?” She hesitated barely long enough to catch her breath. “No? Well, I was just wondering. And how’s Mrs. Mac? She’s such a nice lady. I hope she gets stronger now that spring is here. I shudder to think of Doc taking her away. What would we do without him?”

  Dora scowled at her friend, annoyed at her silly chatter. She’d come to tell her problems, not listen to a recital of what everyone else said or wore. Mary should know better.

  Then, again, Mary had offered to listen, but she had refused. As Mary’s incessant prattle continued, Dora felt a chuckle rising from within. Finally, she could contain her laughter no longer. “Enough. Of course I came here to talk. You don’t have to make a production out of it.”

  Mary grinned and leaned back. “So what’s the problem?”

  “Josh.”

  “No.” Mary pretended shock, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Dora shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid so.” Suddenly all the silliness was gone. “I love him.”