The Brides of Chance Collection

by Kelly Eileen Hake,Cathy Marie Hake,Tracey V. Bateman

  The musicians took a break, and people got up to stretch their legs. Logan went to get a drink of water and saw Hattie off to his right, cuddling a bundled baby. The smile on her face glowed brighter than the bonfire itself.

  “Such a shame,” Bethilda Cleary sidled up to his left.

  Serves you right for not keeping on guard, Logan chided himself ruefully.

  “What’s a shame?” he asked as he wondered how he could get away before her daughters joined them.

  “Hattie, of course.” Bethilda widened her eyes. “Oh, I thought you knew.” She made a tsk-tsk noise. “The way she’s been hogging you, and now you cain’t take yore eyes off her….” The woman’s voice trailed off as she shook her head.

  “Hattie Thales is a good woman.” Logan bristled. “She’s been kind enough to introduce me and Bryce to everyone around.”

  “So yore not castin’ glances at her?” Bethilda’s eyes narrowed in challenge.

  “I was just noticing how no matter where I go, women will always gather around a baby.” Logan shrugged.

  “True,” Bethilda said, smirking. “Especially ones who cain’t have their own.”

  Logan stalked away from the malicious woman and sank back down onto the bench, crossing his arms and scowling as Lily and Lark looked to come near.

  So that’s why Hattie hasn’t married again. She can’t have children. What’s wrong with the men in these parts? Don’t they have eyes to see that Hattie’s a prize in and of herself?

  Otis growled at them to name a song, and a few hesitant suggestions cropped up.

  “ ‘The Old Maid’s Song,’ ” Bethilda ordered, gazing directly at Hattie.

  Logan leaned close to Hattie to try to make out the words of the song. Was it his imagination, or did he see a flash of sadness in those beautiful blue eyes?

  The song moved through several verses about the type of man a maid wouldn’t marry. Only unmarried women sang these, with the rest of the town repeating the refrain. He watched Hattie without her noticing as she sang the last verse with a wistful smile.

  “But I will marry a man that’s kind,

  Who’s honest and wise

  And will always be mine….”

  Then the refrain answered back:

  “Then you’ll not marry at all, at all,

  Then you’ll not marry at all.”

  Logan frowned at the words, which seemed to imply that no such man existed, or that if he did, he wouldn’t want to marry the maid.

  Says who?

  As they walked home, Hattie stayed quiet. Too much was turning over in her mind— like the way the Cleary sisters made eyes at Logan and Bryce all evening. But she’d been expecting that. What she hadn’t expected was for Logan to be so attentive. It was thoughtful of him to bring Miz Willow and her some corn bread—it was her favorite. And how had he come to know her so well, anyway?

  She remembered the way the firelight lit his golden tan, playing on his strong fingers as he clapped his hands to the music he didn’t know. She wouldn’t even have that memory but for the fact he’d saved her seat. She saw the way he’d elbowed Bryce to move over and make room.

  He’d played the harmonica with more energy than accuracy that night and had a heap of fun trying out the washboard and spoons. The boy inside the thoughtful man came out and surprised her at times. Then he would look at her with a strange intensity, like when they sang “The Old Maid’s Song.” Why did it matter to her that he hadn’t joined in the chorus?

  You know very well why it matters, Hattie Thales. If he’d looked at you in the glow of the fire with his handsome blue eyes and ready smile and sang along, “Then you’ll not marry at all, at all, then you’ll not marry at all,” whatever is left of the girl you once were would’ve just shriveled up and died.

  The next two weeks rushed by more quickly as Hattie kept busy treating cuts, rashes, poison oak and ivy, turned ankles, and the run of typical summer maladies. Every time she was called away to some home or another, she was aware of an air of expectation before they realized Logan and Bryce weren’t with her.

  It wasn’t only the single girls who liked having them around, either. The Trevor twins, who at the advanced age of nineteen still provided an impressive number of the scrapes she treated, were always coming by looking for the Chance brothers to go fishing, hunting, trapping, or swimming. Edward Trevor swore Bryce could help him tame the orneriest hound dog alive, and Li’l Nate always stood ready to whip out his harmonica and teach them a few bars. At every house she visited, the children tugged on her skirts, begging for Uncle Logan and Uncle Bryce to give them horsie rides or play hide and seek. Even ole Otis Nye growled at her to bring the boys by for a game of checkers when she dropped off the tea for his rheumatism.

  It was enough to make a gal feel about as wanted as a tagalong younger sister who followed after the boys. Hattie wondered whether the Chance brothers knew how much they’d come to mean to Salt Lick Holler. She’d gladly tell them, but they were hardly ever home, and when they were, they kept her laughing too hard to remember. When they left, they’d take a piece of the holler with them and leave behind a gap in the lives of everyone they knew.

  “We want to leave something behind that’ll really change things around here.” Logan paced in the loft—sort of. He managed about four steps one way before having to turn back around because of the slope of the roof.

  “I thought we’d already gotten that far.” Bryce stretched out on his pallet. “Hey, would ya quit walkin’ over me?”

  “Sure.” Logan sat on the bench. “I’m edgy because we haven’t gotten any further in deciding what to do with the money.”

  “Yep.” Bryce nodded. “We’ve been kept pretty busy these past weeks.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Logan agreed. He’d hardly seen Hattie all week, with her out treating people and him and Bryce invited to so many houses.

  “I like to think we’re still doing some good,” Bryce mused. “Those hound dogs of Ed’s are shaping up to be a great bunch. He ought to fetch a fine price for them.”

  “True. I’ve never seen a dog obey so well as those pups.” Logan raised his brows. “Ed vows it’s all ’cuz of you, you know.”

  “I heard him say something like that.” Bryce shrugged. “He’s still the one who trains them. All I did was show him that rewarding the good behavior was a better track to take than punishing the bad. Dogs are like people—compliments over criticism.”

  “Only you could say something like that and make it sound right.” Logan shook his head. “Well, you and maybe Otis Nye.”

  “Grumpy old geezer.” Bryce smiled. “I think his carved owls are looking a lot better lately, since he doesn’t make ’em tilted in the head anymore.”

  “And you’ve gotten a lot better at checkers.” Logan winked at his brother. “Someday you might even beat me at it.”

  “Don’t be so proud about how wily you are. It’s not always a good thing to be so sly,” Bryce warned. “But I don’t mind losing. It’s almost more fun to look at the game than to play it.”

  “Only because Otis is a craftsman with those checkers of his. Did you get a gander at the latest ones with the circles carved on the bottom?” Logan gave an appreciative whistle. “I don’t know how he does it with that rheumatism of his.”

  “Hattie’s tea helps a lot,” Bryce thought aloud, “but I think it’s mostly his legs that bother him. His knees crack and pop something awful.”

  “True. His hands are as quick as his tongue—just not as sharp!”

  “Yeah.” Bryce snorted. “Speaking of sharp, did you notice how often he has to put his whittling knife to the whetstone?”

  “Now that you mention it”—Logan scratched his jaw—“I reckon that’s because he puts it to such use.”

  “And has for some time.” Bryce was quiet for a minute. “Do you think he whittles so much because he’s alone a good portion of the time?”

  “Could be.” Logan frowned. “I wonder if he knows that Asa
Pleasant has taken up whittling, too. They could sit together.”

  “That’d be a good idea. Asa’s swan-necked towel pegs are sturdy and a little fancy,” Bryce said, “but I’m most impressed by those nativities he hides in his shed.”

  “The detail on those figures is incredible,” Logan added. “I was thinking of asking him to make a set to bring home for the mantel.”

  “That’s a pretty tall order.” Bryce shook his head.

  “True.” Logan remembered how detailed the sets had been. “And baby Jesus can actually come out of the manger and fit in Mary’s arms! It must take him a long time to make all that—especially since he does it so perfectly.”

  “You can see the fur on the animals and expressions on the faces of the people,” Bryce pointed out. “You should offer to pay him.”

  “Of course!” Logan couldn’t believe Bryce thought he hadn’t meant to pay Asa. “But I’m not sure how much would be appropriate. I don’t want to suggest too little— it’s his art—but if I offer too much money, he’ll think I’m showing off or want to give him charity. Either way it’ll sting his pride.”

  “That’s the last thing you want. I guess you’ll have to think about it.” Bryce blew out the lantern, but Logan lay awake for a long while.

  Lord, There’s so much to think about. What do I offer Asa? How can I use the money to help the holler? They’re such good people, but the last thing I want to do is offend them. They should be appreciated for the things they do and the way they live their lives upright in Your sight. So how do I encourage them and help at the same time?

  Chapter 18

  Hattie! Hattie!”

  Hattie reined Legs in at the sound of someone calling her name. She was just returning from a visit to the Peasleys, where Grandma had felt a hitch in her chest and had been struggling for air. Hattie had made hot tea of black cohosh root and coltsfoot leaf to open the lungs and help stop the coughing. After she rubbed on some of Miz Willow’s eucalyptus and peppermint salve and had Grandma breathe in the vapors, the old lady was doing just fine.

  “I’m so glad I caught you!” Mary Pleasant rushed up. “I done heard some terrible news. Daisy Thales’s place burned down last night. Looks like Jamie knocked over a candle or sommat.”

  Hattie froze. Daisy was her sister-in-law—another Thales widow who lived in Hawk’s Fall. Her son, Jamie, suffered from palsy. They already had so little, and now their house had burned down?

  Why, Lord? Daisy tries so hard to be a good mama, staying up and tatting lace to make ends meet for her and her boy. I’ve wished they were closer, but this ain’t the way I’d hoped for it to happen. Please be with them, Lord, in this difficult time.

  “Was it just the house?” A cold fear seized Hattie’s heart.

  “Mostly. Daisy got Jamie out all right, but she went back to get her workbasket and Jamie’s favorite blanket. She got out, but one of her arms is burnt. I don’t know how bad. Nobody else was hurt, but a lot of folk pitched in to put out the fire and keep it from spreading.”

  “Thankee for tellin’ me, Mary.” Hattie couldn’t quite manage a smile. “I’ve gotta go right now, you understand.” She didn’t even wait for Mary’s assent as she urged Legs into a run.

  The morning was half over already, and she needed to get home before she could set out to Hawk’s Fall. It was usually almost a day’s ride, but if she rode hard, she’d make it just before nightfall. When she got to the barn, Bryce was sitting outside, practicing his harmonica.

  “Bryce!” Hattie slid off the horse. “There’s been an emergency in Hawk’s Fall, and I need to gather up some things and get there as fast as I cain.”

  “I’ll cool him down for you.” Bryce took Legs into the barn. “He’ll be ready when you are.”

  “Thankee.” Hattie’s throat felt thick. “And thankee for lettin’ me take him to Hawk’s Fall.”

  “No problem,” Bryce assured her.

  With that settled, Hattie sped to the house. She rushed right by Logan and Miz Willow, who were playing checkers, into the storeroom. She’d need marshmallow salve to soothe the burnt skin and lady slipper tea for the pain and to help Daisy sleep. Hattie just knew she’d been up all night fretting.

  The folks who’d helped put out the fire would’ve breathed in a lot of smoke. She’d need more of the eucalyptus and peppermint salve, along with the black cohosh and coltsfoot leaf tea. She’d bring along some stevia to sweeten the taste. Smoke had probably stung the eyes, too, so she’d need some eyebright to make a wash.

  “What’s wrong, Hattie?” Miz Willow leaned into the store-room doorway.

  “Fire at Daisy’s place. She and Jamie got out, but she’s got a burned arm and there’ll be plenty of folks who need to git the smoke outta their lungs.” Hattie took a deep breath. “There’s nothing left, Miz Willow.”

  “I see.” Miz Willow folded her into a hug. “Bring ’em back with you. I’ll be glad to have Jamie close by. We’ve got plenty of room.”

  “Thankee, Miz Willow.” Hattie’s eyes filled with tears. Miz Willow had known Hattie couldn’t ask her to take more people into her home, but it needed to happen. Miz Willow’s big heart made room.

  “I’ll go with you.” Logan put a hand on her arm as she went to the door. “You shouldn’t be riding alone all that way.”

  “I’ve done it before.” Hattie shrugged away his hand and the warmth it sent up her arm. “There’s no place to sleep for the night, and another body will be an imposition. Besides, iff ’n we traveled alone, tongues would wag.”

  “I don’t care about that.” Logan’s eyes darkened.

  “We do,” Miz Willow stated. “Hattie’s reputation as a woman of the Lord is needed for people to welcome her into their homes and tell of their ailments. You and Bryce’ll be leaving Salt Lick Holler, but Hattie has to live with whatever people think.”

  “But she needs protection,” Logan insisted.

  “You’ll jist have to settle for protectin’ her reputation.” Miz Willow handed Hattie her cloak. “Godspeed, child.”

  “I’ll be back when I cain—prob’ly a couple of days.” She kissed Miz Willow on the cheek and turned to Logan. “Take good care of everybody while I’m gone.” She impulsively reached out to squeeze his hand. “I’m counting on you, Logan.”

  Logan could hardly believe it. Just that morning Hattie had been with them around the breakfast table, and in the twinkling of an eye, she was off. And she counted on him to hold down the fort while she wasn’t around.

  She’ll only be gone for a couple of days. That’s a drop in the bucket, Logan. Why are you so put out?

  “I don’ know what happened.” Daisy sniffed back tears. “Jamie crawled over to wake me up.”

  “He’s a hero,” Hattie praised, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “Now you drink up this tea, and then I’ll have you put some salve on yore chest. It’ll holp with the coughin’. You’ve grown so big since I saw you last, Jamie!”

  It was true. Hattie stifled a pang of guilt. Even if she’d visited more often, there wasn’t much she could do aside from giving Daisy the right yarbs to make sure Jamie slept well. She surely couldn’t have prevented the fire. It seemed as though a spark had jumped from the fire and lit up the hearth rug.

  “He saved our lives.” Daisy managed a genuine smile. “Yore my blessing, sweetheart.” She went to hug him but stopped short since he was drinking the tea.

  “How’s yore arm feelin’?” Hattie glanced at the bandages covering Daisy’s left wrist and forearm.

  “Better since that salve of yores, Hattie. It holped with the stingin’ after you cleaned it with that rinse you made.”

  “Good.” Hattie would check and rebandage it in a few hours. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it hadn’t gone deeper than the skin. So long as they warded off infection, Daisy would heal just fine.

  “You need to put some of that salve on, too,” Hattie admonished when Daisy tried to stifle a cough. “Otherwise I’ll have to give you sommat s
tronger to clear yore lungs. I may still have to, as a matter of fact.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Daisy opened the jar and saw to Jamie before using it on herself. “Ooh, that is better.”

  “You took too much of a risk going back in.” Hattie had to speak her mind. “You could’ve come out much worse for it.”

  “I know, but Jamie needs his blanket. He don’t ask for much, Hattie.” Daisy’s eyes glistened. “And if I didn’t get my tatting shuttle and thread, we’d have no way to feed ourselves.”

  “I ken what you mean, Daisy.” Hattie patted her good arm. “But yore more valuable than either of those things—to Jamie and to me.”

  “Thankee, Hattie. Yore a good sister-in-law and a better friend.”

  “Do you know where to go from here?” Hattie gestured around the small barn where she, Daisy, and Jamie had spent the night. Daisy’s mule was the only other occupant.

  “I don’t know.” Daisy’s head drooped. “We still have a roof o’er our heads, and I’ve got some lace I’ve already made that’ll see us through until I cain make more. Folks have been kind enough to drop off food and blankets they cain’t really spare. I reckon I’ll jist have to lean on the Lord. We’ll get by.”

  “Shore you will,” Hattie reassured. “But Miz Willow and I reckon you and Jamie should come stay with us. We’ve got plenty of room, and we’ve been wishin’ for a long while now you two was closer.” Hattie could see Daisy struggle with the idea for a moment.

  “My pride says no, but the truth of the matter is, yore invitation is a relief.” Daisy looked at her son. “I’ll be glad to have Jamie in a warm home.”

  “Good. I’m glad that’s settled.” Hattie stood up. “Fact is, Miz Willow’s rheumatiz is actin’ up. I’d hoped it’d improve after the cold season, but she ain’t doin’ so well as I’d like. I’m away from home most days. I’ll be glad to know yore there to keep an eye on her.”