“Don’t you start up again.” Hattie shook a finger at her before enveloping her in a hug. “Else you’ll git me goin’, too.” She pulled back and smiled. “Besides, we have this here parcel from yore sister to open.” She tapped the package. “Why don’t you have a look?”
Nessie carefully untied the string and pushed back the blue calico fabric as though it were made of gold. She had to unwind it a few times before she was finished.
“It’s so beautiful. There’s enough here to make me a new dress.” Nessie stroked a length of the material before picking up the note inside. “Lovejoy knows I cain’t read, so I s’pose she reckoned on me gittin’ some holp. How’ve yore letters been comin’ along, Hattie?”
“Just fine. I’d be tickled to read it to you.” Hattie accepted the envelope and read Nessie the entire letter; Lovejoy wrote that she missed her and hoped she was well, that she was doing fine and so were Daniel, Polly, Ginny Mae, and all the others. She said she hoped the things she sent would come in useful and finished off by giving her love and prayers.
“It does my heart good to hear from her.” Nessie smiled and returned her attention to the package lying open on her lap. She pulled out a pack of needles, a pair of ribbons the same shade of blue as the calico, and a fawn-colored hooded cloak just like Hattie’s rose one, Miz Willow’s purple one, and Silk’s buttercup yellow one. When she unfolded the cloak, she found French-milled soap, two pairs of stockings, and a new hairbrush, exactly like the other three had. They’d just not held them up in front of the menfolk.
“Mercy. Lovejoy weren’t foolin’ when she said she’s livin’ fine.” Nessie couldn’t stop smiling as she refolded the package. “There’s not a thing here I cain’t use—and so many luxuries, I’ll feel like a queen.” She stood up. “ ’Tween yore prayer and Lovejoy’s package, I feel so loved and blessed, I cain hardly stand it.”
“S’pose we ought to join the menfolk. I’ve still got to check on Abigail Rucker this afternoon.” Hattie stopped to give Nessie one last hug. “Remember how yore feeling now and know yore never without holp. The Lord takes care of His own.”
Chapter 12
Hattie heard the cock crow and snuggled under the covers for a mite longer. Logan and Bryce had gone off to Hawk’s Fall to visit Abner MacPherson, whose three boys had married Tempy, Eunice, and Lois. They’d set out yesterday morning and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night—just in time for church on Sunday.
She and Miz Willow were happy with some boiled oats and brown sugar, so she could afford to snuggle in for a little bit this morning. When the flames in the hearth began to gutter, she got up to lay on some more wood. No matter what the season, evening through morning in the mountains could put a chill in a body. She slipped into her clothes and set water to boil for the oatmeal before she went to milk the cow and bring in fresh cream to add to their breakfast.
“Mornin’.” Miz Willow was up and stirring the oats when she got back in, her pretty new shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“Mornin’.” Hattie nodded toward the pot. “Have I got time for a quick barn muckin’ afore it’s ready?” In addition to their milk cow and Blossom, who was on the mend, they still housed the two packhorses Bryce and Logan had left behind since they’d only had one or two packets for Abner.
“I reckon you’ll be done by the time it’s cool.”
Hattie went back to the barn and got straight to work. After breakfast, she and the widow planned to do the wash while the brothers weren’t around. Miz Willow had told the men to leave out anything they needed cleaned before they left, and Hattie found a neat bundle of shirts and britches in the barn.
She finished lickety-split and went back to the bowl of creamed oats and brown sugar Miz Willow had already served up for her. It was perfect with cool milk. The widow favored hers with tart cranberries; she said it woke her up. Hattie remembered her mama saying each bowl of oatmeal was special to the person who ate it.
I wonder why Lovejoy warned us that Logan hates oatmeal. It’s one of my favorites. There’s so much you cain do with it—add honey, raisins, preserves, cinnamon, maple syrup, berries.…Oh well. I’ll jist enjoy it today and tomorra, seein’ as how we won’t make it for what’s left of spring—or most of the summer.
After breakfast, she started heating water and hauling it to the washtub outside while Miz Willow cleaned the dishes. Soon enough, the scent of strong lye tinged the mountain air as Hattie put the washboard to work. Then she let the clothes soak in the washer before rinsing them in clean water. It took all morning to finish the clothes.
“I figgur we’d best stop for some dinner.” Hattie hung the last few items on the clothesline with the clothespins Asa Pleasant had fashioned for them. It would do Miz Willow good to sit a spell before they tackled the towels, sheets, and rags. Everything in the healers’ house had to be kept clean as a whistle.
“Sounds good to me.”
They retrieved some salted fish from the smokehouse and used the last of the bread they’d baked the day before, washing it all down with lots of water.
“Warshin’s a thirst work.” Miz Willow poured her another cupful of water. “Always seems like the smell of the lye gets caught in yore throat.”
“But it feels powerful nice to sleep on fresh sheets and put on a crisp, clean dress.” Hattie wiped off the table and set more water on to boil.
She was bringing out a kettleful of piping hot water when she saw the Clearys opening Miz Willow’s garden gate. “Seems we have us some visitors,” she muttered to Miz Willow, who straightened up as best she could.
“Good afternoon, Bethilda.”
“Afternoon, Miz Willow. Hattie.” She sailed toward them across the yard, Lily and Lark in tow.
Hattie could see the tight lines around Bethilda’s mouth. Suddenly, working over a vat of hot lye water seemed like a fine way to spend the afternoon. She took a deep breath and pasted on a smile. “What seems to be the trouble?” Hattie knew the problem wouldn’t be medicinal.
“Silly girl.” Bethilda gave a forced laugh. “This be a social call.”
“Well, in that case I s’pose we’d best set in the shade awhile. I cain make us some tea.” Miz Willow ushered them to the porch, but Bethilda followed her inside.
“We went to visit Abigail Rucker t’other day.” Bethilda sat down at the table, and her daughters followed suit. “Bless her heart, poor thing’s bigger’n a bear. She mentioned as how Hattie’d been to see her jist the day afore, and how nice it’d been for Hattie’s visitors to wait outside like gentlemen while they talked ’bout the babe to come.”
Hattie closed her eyes for a moment. Bethilda Cleary knew she’d been up her way and hadn’t stopped by to introduce the Chance brothers. Hattie reached for the chamomile—anything soothing couldn’t hurt. Upset, Bethilda Cleary resembled a riled polecat—the stink she raised would cover everyone around.
“And I asked myself, how was it we hadn’t seen you or yore new friends?” Bethilda’s tone sounded sticky as honey but held none of the natural goodness.
“To tell the truth, Bethilda, we counted on stoppin’ by but owed it to Rooster and Nessie to see them first, seein’ as how he’s their brother’s father-in-law.” Hattie saw Miz Willow nodding in support. “Took a mite longer’n we reckoned, and it were dark when I’d finished lookin’ in on Abigail.” She wouldn’t mention how she’d taken Logan and Bryce through the meadow instead. “We wouldn’t want to impose on you—and with no warning whatsoever!”
“I’m shore I done made it clear as a mountain stream that we was anxious to meet the bachelors.” Bethilda’s eyes narrowed. “Lily and Lark are bound to get along with ’em like peas and carrots. That bein’ the case, I’ve got to ask why yore keepin’ ’em away.”
“Fiddlesticks, Bethilda Cleary,” Miz Willow broke in. “You know better. Hattie cain’t control the sun, and happens right now, the boys went to Hawk’s Fall.”
“Aw,” Lily groaned, “you didn’t scare them off, d
id yer, Hattie?”
“We was itchin’ to meet ’em.” Lark sounded downright mournful.
“They went to visit Abner MacPherson and take him word from his sons back in Californy.” Hattie poured the tea into five cups. “That’s all.”
“I heard they brung more’n words.” Bethilda peered around. “Caught wind that Lovejoy and the MacPhersons done sent gifts to everybody in the holler.”
“They brought things for kin and such,” Hattie clarified. Clearer than a cloudless night, the Cleary’s were hopin’ for something from Californy in addition to husbands.
“Oh?” Bethilda glanced slyly at the two cloaks hanging by the door before nodding at the copper teakettle. “Didn’t realize you was kin.”
“Lovejoy an’ Hattie is kindred spirits. All healers are. ’Sides, Hattie’s the one what’s takin’ care of her brothers.”
“I see.” Bethilda stood up. “Well, you’ll be shore and let us know when they’re back from Hawk’s Fall. We wouldn’t want Hattie to take all that carin’ on herself.”
Hattie bit her lip as the Clearys left, tamping down a surge of anger at Bethilda’s implications. She emptied the teakettle and went outside to rinse the cups clean. Miz Willow followed her.
“Don’t you let Bethilda Cleary direct her pointed words and pierce yore heart, Hattie. It reflects on her, not on you.” Miz Willow waited until she nodded in response. “Now let’s finish up this warshing. Bethilda’s visit set us back.”
“Shore did.”
Logan and Bryce arrived at Hawk’s Fall after dark and made their way to the MacPherson farm. Abner ushered them to the barn, where they saw to the horses, then bedded down in the loft.
Logan could scarcely believe this was the selfsame loft shared by Obadiah, Hezekiah, and Micah McPherson before they came out to California. He and Bryce barely fit in the space when they lay down. How three grown men had slept here was beyond him. Especially since Obie and Hezzy were absolutely mammoth. Logan now knew they’d gotten their height and girth from their father. It seemed as though Micah had inherited his mama’s stature and his pa’s smarts.
They got to know Abner better the next day when he showed them around. “You already seen the barn. Ain’t as grand as the Peasleys’ up yonder—they breed mules—but it serves.” Abner puffed out his chest with pride. “M’ boys set up in Californy and then sent me money for a new one.”
“Sturdy animal.” Bryce praised a nearby mule. “I’ll bet he’s good at pulling a plow.”
“Right you are.” Abner took them out to a shed behind the barn. “This here’s the fancy plow m’ boys wanted me to have.” He took off his hat. “The Lord blessed us with fine sons. We raised ’em right in the sight of God, and now they share their blessings. Look ’round. We’ll have us a bumper crop this year.”
“Good to hear,” Logan affirmed. “Obie, Hezzy, and Mike are well-liked back in Reliable. They got fine brides in Eunice, Lois, and Tempy, too. Done quite well out there.”
“Knew they would.” Abner gave a decisive nod. “Micah writes ’bout how holpful you Chance boys have bin.” He slapped them each on the shoulder and pulled them close for a moment. “Yore like family to them. I cain’t tell you how beholden I am to you an’ yourn.”
As quick as the emotion came on, it was over. Abner clapped his hat back on and took them inside for some dinner.
Logan and Bryce grinned. They’d made the right choice in coming.
Chapter 13
Y’all come back now, ya hear?” Abner MacPherson waved them off after an early breakfast the next morning.
“Yes, sir,” Logan and Bryce answered dutifully as they rode out of the yard and turned onto the road. They’d decided to make an early start so they could stop by the Hawk’s Fall General Store. Hattie had asked them to check to see if they had any messages. Logan hoped they did—he wanted to know about the mysterious “matter” they’d written to Lovejoy about.
“Abner’s a good man,” Bryce mused.
“True.” Logan couldn’t argue with that. “I’m glad we came, but it’s nice to be getting back.”
“Funny how quick Miz Willow’s place feels kinda like home.” Bryce gave him a slanted look. “I reckon Hattie has a lot to do with it.”
“They both do.” Logan wasn’t sure what Bryce was getting at, but something warned him not to probe. Hattie was an upstanding woman, considerate hostess, devoted healer, kind spirit, and good friend. She couldn’t help being pretty, so he wouldn’t let that dampen his appreciation of her fine qualities one bit. He shot Bryce a smile. “Speaking of Miz Willow and Hattie, I have an idea.”
“Cut it out!” Bryce cracked one eye open to glower at him.
“Sure.” Logan watched his brother close his eye again and try to burrow under the covers. He flicked more water. “Soon as you get up!”
“You can’t blame a guy for wanting to prolong the best night’s sleep he’s had in three days.” Bryce flung back his blankets. “After all, I had to sleep with your feet in my face in that loft!”
“And your feet were in mine. It was the only way we could both lie down without one of us running the risk of rollin’ off.” Logan started to shave. “We’ve got church this morning, so we’ll meet the rest of the people from the holler. You’d best get going.”
“All right, all right.” Bryce rummaged through the trunk to pull out their Sunday best.
“What’re you doin’?” Logan stopped him. “We’ve got to muck out the barn before we get dressed for church. Come on.”
While they worked, Hattie came out to gather eggs. Logan stopped for a minute to look at her. Something was different….
“What’d you do to your hair?” He blurted the question before he had a chance to stop himself. It was none of his business how she wore her hair. But it was all scraped back and pinned up so tight. Where was her long dancing braid the color of a sunrise?
“Hmmm?” Hattie shut the chicken coop and raised a hand to smooth back her hair. “Is it coming down?”
“No,” Logan muttered. “It just looks different, is all.”
“Of course it does!” She smiled at him and Bryce. “I cain’t go to the Lord’s house with my hair hangin’ down my back in a braid. That’s only passable for a young gal.” She went to get the pail of milk since Logan had made a habit of doing that chore for her.
“You are young.” Bryce joined the conversation.
“Kind of you to say so, but I’m no spring chicken.” Hattie picked up the pail. “I’m a widow.”
How did I manage to forget that she’s had a husband? Maybe because she’s like no widow I’ve ever met. I reckon scrapin’ back your crowning glory isn’t so awful when you’re of Miz Willow’s age, but Hattie? Now that’s a crime.
“You both come on inside when yore finished here. Breakfast’ll be on the table.” With that, she left.
Telling himself it was a good thing she was gone so he couldn’t stick his foot in his mouth again, Logan focused on the work at hand. He finished mucking out the stalls, then climbed the ladder to change. By the time he and Bryce left the barn, his stomach was growling.
As he filled up on country-fried potatoes and poached eggs, Logan reconsidered Hattie’s Sunday getup. Her green dress wasn’t faded like the yellow and blue he’d seen her wear for everyday, and it swirled a little at the bottom edge when she turned around. He still didn’t like her hair pinned up, but the style did show off her slender neck and little ears. He was just wondering whether or not she could still carry her knife when she caught him looking.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat and turned to Miz Willow. “Couldn’t help but notice how nice you ladies look this morning.” He smiled at both of them.
“Thankee, Logan.” Miz Willow beamed and smoothed the white wisps escaping her bun. “Nice of you to notice. I reckon everyone’ll be gussied up today. Hattie and me need to hold our own.”
Hattie shook her head but patted the old woman’s hand. “You’d shore give any fel
la a run for his money iff ’n he came sniffin’ around, Miz Willow. But I wouldn’t know what to do without you, so don’t be gettin’ any crazy notions.”
“Heh, heh.” The widow slapped her knee. “That I would, dearie. That I would.” She smiled fondly at Hattie. “But I won’t be batting my eyelashes at any whippersnapper who smiles my way.”
Logan couldn’t help but think Miz Willow wasn’t the widow he’d like to hear that promise from.
It was a fairly short walk to the schoolhouse where they held church every Sunday. Hattie walked beside Miz Willow, holding her arm to keep her steady on the uneven road. Logan and Bryce walked on each side of them.
They were looking mighty handsome this morning. Hattie wasn’t quite sure whether she’d forgotten how good-looking the brothers were while they were at Hawk’s Fall or if it was their Sunday clothes.
When they got to the schoolhouse, women would be swarming all around them. Logan and Bryce’s visit would be the high point of the year—whether or not they ended up hitched.
She knew they wouldn’t. She loved the holler and wouldn’t dream of leaving it, but Logan and Bryce were used to finer manners. She was well aware of how unpolished they all sounded, but these were her people. She knew Logan and Bryce were glad to visit, but the holler would never be home to them the way Chance Ranch was.
A crowd of people milled around the front of the building, and Hattie could tell when everybody caught sight of the Chance brothers. They stopped talking for a minute, then started whispering furiously.
Silk Trevor came up to them immediately, her husband and sons close on her heels. They exchanged a warm welcome—hugs for Hattie and Miz Willow from Silk and a lot of shoulder slapping and hand shaking among the men. Mary Pleasant came up to join them. Her husband, Asa, would be filling in for the circuit-riding parson today.
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