Prairie Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Mel cleared his throat. “Before we go out,” he said, “let’s take a minute to pray.”

  Amanda and Pamela spent the next hour cleaning. That included bathing and changing clothes. They sat down to dinner alone, but before they’d finished, homeless neighbors began to arrive. Her pa and the sheriff were directing people to their door. By supper, the Kotchkis farmhouse sheltered women and children from three houses torn apart by the tornado.

  Amanda bustled about the house as a born hostess, making sure the visitors had drink and food and a comfortable place to rest. Never shy, she addressed adults and children alike and carried messages to Pamela, who worked in the kitchen.

  “We’re going to have a dance,” Amanda announced as she brought in an empty plate from the parlor.

  “A dance?” Pamela put the hot pan of muffins down on the kitchen table. “When?”

  “Saturday night,” said Amanda, crawling up into the chair beside the table and watching as Pamela carefully plucked out the fresh muffins.

  Pamela sank into the chair beside her and leaned on her elbows.

  “I can’t imagine why people are talking of a dance,” Pamela said. She poured a glass of milk for herself and a smaller one for Amanda and put a muffin before the child. “It seems a mighty poor time for frivolity.”

  “People are going to bring things for the people who lost everything. The dance will be a place to collect and dis…distri…”

  “Distribute?” Pamela supplied a word.

  Amanda nodded, her blond curls bouncing.

  “I suppose that’s a good idea.” Pamela took her glass of milk and went to the window over the sink. She looked out toward the road. Another family limped toward the house. It was Gladys Sence and her children.

  “Why are you smiling?” asked Amanda.

  “I see the lady who owns the teacup coming down the lane,” answered Pamela.

  “I thought you saw Sheriff Moore coming.”

  Pamela turned to look at Amanda with a puzzled frown wrinkling her brow. “Why would you think that?”

  “My sister Augusta smiles when she sees her husband, Mr. Jenkins, coming. Mr. Jenkins is a ne’er-do-well,” said Amanda before taking a bigger-than-polite bite of muffin. Pamela grinned. Amanda’s city manners were dropping away. Perhaps the softer, more comfortable clothes allowed the little girl to be less stiff. Perhaps just being surrounded by more casual adults made the difference.

  “Do you like Mr. Jenkins?” asked Pamela.

  Amanda’s head jerked up, and she studied Pamela’s friendly face. After a moment she nodded cautiously, still examining Pamela’s expression. The little girl chewed slowly and swallowed before making any comment.

  “Mr. Jenkins tells stories,” she said, the tone of her voice condemning such a practice.

  Again Pamela felt her face wrinkle as she tried to decipher the statement. “He tells lies?” she asked.

  Amanda vigorously shook her head, sending the curls wildly dancing. “No, real stories,” she explained. “About fairies.”

  “Where do the Jenkinses live, Amanda?”

  “In St. Louis, Kansas,” answered Amanda. “They don’t live on the right side of the river.”

  “The Missouri side is the right side?” Pamela raised her eyebrows at this petty prejudice.

  Amanda nodded. “We live on the Missouri side.”

  “Of course,” observed Pamela, trying to remember that Amanda was merely repeating what she’d been told.

  Gladys Sence bustled into the room, coming directly over to Pamela and giving her a hearty hug. She then sank into a table chair and removed her bonnet.

  “Such a day!” she exclaimed. “Such a day! What wonders I have seen. Pamela, three of your silly-looking banty chickens are sitting at the very top of the post oak tree down by the river. Probably scared to death, never been up so high in their lives. Certainly didn’t fly up there.”

  “Oh dear, my banties,” moaned Pamela.

  “Well, don’t carry on,” admonished Gladys, her usual smile brightening her face. “That father of yours and the sheriff are trying to get them down. All the work that needs to be done and they’re taking time out to fool with some plaything chickens.”

  Pamela laughed at Gladys’s good-natured fussing. No one in all of Lawrence had a bigger heart than Gladys. Her face sobered as she remembered the teacup.

  “Gladys, was your house hit?” she asked.

  Gladys nodded her head in amazement. “That twister aimed for my house, and that’s God’s own truth. But God did like He did to Job and said, ‘Go ahead and take those boards, every pillar and post, but you can’t have my servant Gladys Sence!’ “Gladys clapped her hands together. “Fred hadn’t even gone out to the fields yet ‘cause he was working on the old plow harness that needed repairing. He came charging in the house, gathered us all up, and rushed us out to the banks of the river. I wanted to go down into the cellar, and he said, ‘No!’ And he can’t tell me why he knew to go to the river instead of down in the cellar, but it’s a good thing. What pieces of our house that didn’t scatter all over the fields fell into the cellar.”

  “Oh, Gladys, praise God,” Pamela whispered, and her hand moved to her throat as she realized what a close call it had been for her neighbors.

  “You’re right about that, Pamela,” answered the older woman. “And I’m thanking Him that Fred is such a put-it-off-till-tomorrow man.”

  Pamela nodded and then giggled at the look of pure mischief in Gladys’s eyes.

  “If he had built that extra bedroom like I’ve been after him to do for two years, I would have been vexed to see it blown up like that.” She shrugged. “Now he’ll be building a whole house, and it can’t be too much trouble to put in another bedroom for my girls.”

  They laughed together. Gladys jumped to her feet.

  “Well, Pamela, tell me what you want me to do.” She gestured toward the other room where people gathered to talk. “You’ll be feeding that whole crew tonight, and probably tomorrow. Do you want me to mix up some biscuits?”

  While the women worked together, Gladys told all the bits of news she had gathered, whose farms had been hit and what people had been injured. She talked of who was out helping people and where the injured had been taken.

  Pamela vacillated between the blue dress that brought out the blue in her eyes and her favorite yellow dress. When she tried the yellow dress on for Amanda and did a twirl in her bedroom, Amanda clapped her hands with enthusiasm over the way the skirt swung out.

  “That one’s the prettiest,” she said, “and it matches Sheriff Moore’s dancing shirt.”

  The two young ladies dug around in the attic trunks and found another party dress for Amanda to wear.

  Mel escorted them to the dance on Saturday night and then left them to their own devices as he took up his fiddle and helped provide the music.

  Pamela politely asked Amanda for the first dance, remembering when her older sisters would partner her at the community dances. Pamela guided her little friend over to the square where adults and children laughed together. Amanda curtsied with skill but then just stood there as if she knew none of the steps. Everyone in the square took pleasure in helping her through the formations. Three dances passed before Pamela insisted they go get some punch.

  The refreshment table sat under a huge sweet gum tree. Amanda drank her punch quickly, leaving a red mustache across her upper lip. Pamela laughed as she watched the little girl scurry off to join some other children playing nearby.

  Pamela took her cup of punch and sat on one of the wooden benches along the outside wall of the town meeting hall, away from the small crowd around the refreshment table. She picked up one of the large star-shaped leaves of the sweet gum tree and gently crushed it between her fingers. It released the pleasant fragrance that gave it the “sweet” part of its name. Pamela inhaled deeply, enjoying the essence of the beautiful night.

  A breeze riffled the leaves above her, and she saw stars peeking t
hrough the branches of the tree. A three-quarter moon gave some silvery light, adding to the golden glow shining from the windows of the well-lit hall. The magical night hummed with the life of people coming together to help one another. Pamela thanked God for the farmers and townspeople willing to give of themselves in a time of need. The tornado had reminded her how generous her neighbors could be.

  Pamela leaned back against the building, her head resting against the boards but her foot tapping on the dirt. She could feel the wood vibrate with the strong beat of the hoedown and the rhythmic movement of the dancers within. She imagined the building itself would like to join the dancing, just as her feet couldn’t seem to keep still.

  Amanda skipped back to her side and proudly displayed a ribbon one of the older girls had fastened in her hair.

  “Do you like it, Miss Kottis?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Yes, it’s very pretty.”

  “I got it from my friends.” Amanda’s eyes glowed with excitement, and she rushed back to join the square they were forming to dance under the trees.

  “What are you doing out here?” asked a familiar low voice from the shadows.

  Jake’s voice made her heart leap, and she felt her face flood with an expectant blush. She’d always been so careful to keep from falling under the sheriff’s spell. She’d kept her distance and thereby kept her dignity. She’d always felt contempt for those girls in town who blatantly flirted around Jake Moore. Now she hoped she could at least behave with some decorum, because her heart wanted to betray how she felt.

  Smiling cautiously, Pamela turned to greet the sheriff as he sat on the bench beside her.

  “We were hot, so we came outside.” Pamela nodded toward Amanda, who had joined hands with the other children and moved as the circle rotated with the music. “Amanda is playing. I didn’t want to leave her out here alone.”

  “She’s not quite the stuffy little city miss she was four days ago.” Pamela studied him as he watched the children. The girls in town made a point of being available as he finished each dance. She couldn’t blame them. He seemed to find pleasure when he danced with the homely, awkward gals as well as with the pretty ones. And he danced as easily as he walked. The joy and fun he expressed as he whirled one partner after another around the hardwood floor caused many a girl to swoon over him.

  She’d noted that where he carefully avoided the women when at church, he had no problem dancing with every female in sight at the community dances. He’d even taken the preacher’s wife to the floor and danced with the elderly sisters Mrs. Dobson and Mrs. Roper, both widows in their sixties.

  Pamela had never been his partner. Her careful adherence to the code of dignity had cost her that privilege. Pamela sighed, and the mournful sound on the night air caught his attention.

  Jake turned to see the soft light of the moon bathing her gentle face. She smiled at him, and he spotted the dimple that had on occasion bewitched him. The dance inside had ended, and the violin played the first notes of the next, more sedate tune.

  “Miss Pamela,” said Sheriff Moore, “may I have this dance?”

  Pamela nodded, and he took her hand. They stood and faced each other in the golden light spilling out of the open window. She put her hand on his shoulder. He put his on her waist, and they waltzed under the trees. Neither noticed the children pairing off to do an ungainly imitation of the dance. Pamela only knew she danced with the most wonderful man she’d ever met. Jake felt his heart surrender.

  Chapter 6

  The railroad crews settled into work, but a train wouldn’t run for at least a week. The telegraph lines still lay on the ground, but riders carried messages to the neighboring towns. Most folks had started their repairs or the clearing away of the debris for their new houses. Monday morning had brought enough regularity to the community that Jake felt he could now leave to return Miss Amanda to her sister in Big Springs.

  As he’d talked over his plans with Mel Kotchkis after church the day before, the farmer had offered his surrey for the trip.

  “It’s a fine rig,” he explained. “Got it for the girls when there were so many of them at home, always getting rigged up and prettified for the church socials and community shindigs. It has genuine leather seats, silly little fringe dangling off the roof, and yeller wheels. Miss Amanda will feel right comfortable in that fancy wagon.” Mel grinned at the mention of it. “And if you wouldn’t be opposed to it, my daughter Grace lives in Big Springs; you could take Pamela along to help you with Miss Amanda, and it’d give Pamela a chance to visit her big sister.”

  Jake, who at first had thought the surrey sounded like more trouble than putting Amanda across the front of his saddle on Dancer, suddenly took a hankering to driving the fancy rig and two charming ladies to Big Springs.

  Jake rode past the Kotchkis cornfields, headed once more for the farmhouse. This morning the sun kissed the corn, urging the battered plants to stand straight. The blue of the sky sparkled its hue over the meadow to one side of the road. Milking cows lumbered without hurry over the lush green grass. A warm, light breeze ruffled the hair on Jake’s neck, and he pulled his new hat firmly down to keep it from blowing off.

  Jake lifted his hearty baritone voice, singing “Sunshine in My Soul.” With each verse his voice grew stronger, and when he reined Dancer to a halt before the Kotchkis hitching post, he heard Mel’s tenor and Pamela’s soprano join him in the chorus.

  Amanda danced out onto the porch, laughing at the grown-ups’ happy song.

  When they ended on a ringing chord, Mel standing in the door of the barn, Pamela on the porch, and Jake still sitting on his horse, the little girl doubled over with mirth.

  “I want to sing the words,” she chirped as soon as the laughter left her throat. “Teach me!”

  “We will,” said Jake, “on the way to Big Springs.”

  “We have a picnic basket,” Amanda squealed. “With tarts! I helped make them. Miss Kottis says we have to watch you because the knave of hearts steals the tarts!” She jumped up and down in her excitement.

  Jake leveled his gaze at his accuser. “So I am the knave of hearts.”

  “Yes, yes.” Amanda clapped her hands. “But Miss Kottis is not the queen.”

  “She’s not?”

  “No, ‘cause she doesn’t want to be married to the king, who beat the knave full sore.

  “Ah!” said Jake as he swung down from Dancer’s back. “She’s too softhearted.”

  “Yes,” answered Amanda. “Do you want to know what kind of tarts they are?”

  Jake came up the porch steps and swept Miss Amanda up in his arms for a big hug.

  “What kind?” he asked.

  “I won’t tell,” said Amanda. “You have to wait for our picnic.”

  “You’re a tease, Miss Amanda,” Jake protested, laughing.

  She giggled and squeezed his neck in a tight hug. “Let’s go. We’re ready. Miss Kottis and I packed two bags, one for her and one for me, and a big picnic basket.”

  “Whoa,” said Jake. “We’re going to have so much to tote, we won’t have room for one little girl, and if we don’t take the little girl, we don’t need to go.”

  Amanda laughed and squirmed to get down. She raced past Pamela and into the house.

  “Are you ready to go, too?” Jake asked Pamela, his hat in his hand, his eyes taking in the fresh beauty of her as she stood on the porch.

  She nodded, smiling with only a hint of her joy getting past the shyness that suddenly enveloped her.

  “I’ll get our things,” she said. “Pa’s coming with the surrey.”

  In a manner of minutes, Jake had turned Dancer out into the near pasture and had swung his saddlebags into the back of the surrey, putting them on the floor in front of the second seat. Two bay horses were harnessed to the rig, and they stamped their feet, seemingly as anxious to get started as Amanda. Amanda had set the bag of clothing Pamela had given her and her little square basket on the floor beside the saddlebags. She c
lutched her doll, waiting for the adults to finish with their good-byes. In the end, she gave Mr. Kotchkis one more big hug as he lifted her into the front seat.

  “You write me a letter,” he admonished her. “And when your sister’s foot gets better, you talk her into coming to visit us.”

  Amanda waved until they turned the corner, out of the farm lane and onto the main road heading west.

  “How long before we get there?” was her first question.

  Pamela laughed. “We just started. We won’t get there until late afternoon.”

  “Does Althea know I’m coming?”

  “She knows you’re coming this week,” said Jake. “I sent a letter with a fellow who was riding that way. But I sent it Saturday, before I knew just which day I’d be able to get away. She’ll be surprised to see you so soon.”

  Amanda chattered for a while and then remembered the hymn Jake had been singing when he arrived at the farmhouse. They spent an hour going over the words, and toward the end Pamela and Jake harmonized, making Amanda clap her hands with enthusiasm.

  When they took their first break to let the horses rest, Pamela took Amanda behind some bushes and introduced her to the reality of life without a privy. Amanda stamped back into the clearing, scowling as she marched up to where Jake sat on a log. She stood before him with her hands on her hips.

  “What’s the matter, little mite?” asked Jake.

  “I like traveling on a train better than this,” she said.

  Jake raised an eyebrow at her. “You do?”

  She nodded vigorously. “Except I do like the horses.”