The remark brought a chuckle from Zachary’s father and a frown from Grandma.
Mr. Jacobs leaned forward and spoke to Ma. “It’s far better than my cooking, and that’s a fact. Thank you again for asking us.” He dabbed his mouth with the cloth napkin and placed it beside his plate.
Lucy caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Mr. Tucker was staring at Mr. Jacobs. She hadn’t decided if she cared for Mr. Tucker yet, though he appeared nice enough. In some ways he reminded her of Pa, with his love of books and all. But he asked too many questions and never told anyone why he’d come to town. She and Zachary had talked about it. They figured he could be a bank robber running from the law—or maybe a professor from some big city who’d been spurned by his wife and had come here to grieve. Lucy considered that last thought again. He didn’t look like he was pining for someone, so they could be wrong.
Mr. Tucker cleared his throat. “So, Mr. Jacobs, what brought you to Baker City? I understand you hail from Seattle. Have you always owned a livery?”
“No. For a time I worked in a mine but grew to dislike the dank air, so I returned to what my father taught me. Sometimes I miss it, though—the hunt for gold or silver and the hope of striking it rich.”
Lucy heard a quiet gasp from her mother. She knew exactly what she was thinking. Pa had taken a summer job in a mine and been killed in an accident. Ma hated anything to do with the trade. It was a wonder they’d stayed here after Pa’s death, but Ma didn’t have a skill and the boardinghouse promised to provide for their needs.
“Is that what brought you here, knowing it’s a mining town?” Mr. Tucker continued.
Mr. Jacobs lifted one shoulder. “Not really, although I’ll admit it’s crossed my mind once or twice.”
Great. Now Ma might never want to be friends with Mr. Jacobs.
Chapter Eight
Mama had managed to be rude again—and once more Katherine had barely slept. She rose early, not feeling a bit rested after a night spent tossing and turning. Micah Jacobs and his son excused themselves shortly after she’d served dessert, and she couldn’t blame them. Between her mother’s not-so-subtle comments about her cooking and her own coolness toward the pair, she was amazed they’d even agreed to stay for the meal.
She absently buttoned the front of her dress and pulled on her stockings, feeling horrible about letting her feelings toward Zachary color her behavior. Maybe if she hadn’t already been so irritated with Mama it wouldn’t have been such a struggle to keep her emotions hidden.
Breakfast wouldn’t get made on its own, though. It was time to get to work. After starting a fire in the cookstove, she mixed a pan of biscuit dough. Maybe she was worrying overly about the two children, but the notion of Zachary and Lucy together made her tense. She didn’t care for Lucy sneaking off to see the boy, nor did she approve of her inviting him for supper without her knowledge. Of course, nothing untoward happened last night, but she couldn’t let it go. Katherine had hoped to speak to Micah privately about their children, but she’d decided to let well enough alone for now. The poor man could only take so much in one evening.
As the heel of her hand flattened the dough on the floured work surface, she recalled the kindness in Micah’s voice when he’d complimented her cooking, and she gave her head a brisk shake. Feelings like this were not allowed. Besides, the man stated he’d been a miner in the past and admitted he’d consider returning to it.
Then there was Jeffery Tucker. It was interesting seeing the two men together. During her first meeting with Micah, she’d assumed him to be taciturn and utterly rough, but his manners had been excellent, and he’d even held a cordial conversation.
But Jeffery Tucker was a bit of an enigma. His polished demeanor and obvious education drew her, but she’d not given him permission to use her first name. Something to think about, but not right now. She must hurry if she was to finish serving breakfast and arrive on time to the quilting session at the church.
Katherine worried her lip. She supposed it only right to invite Mama to attend, but she hated the idea. The small gathering of women had become her safe place—her refuge of support and friendship since Daniel’s death. Allowing Mama to come would desecrate that somehow. Could she slip out of the house and not mention it? No. Her innate sense of honesty wouldn’t allow that. All she could do was pray Mama refused.
Jeffery Tucker sauntered down the main street, hoping he’d find the right person. So far he hadn’t turned up nearly as much information as he’d expected.
In the quiet of the early morning not many people stirred. He figured most of the men were working the mines and the women caring for their homes. Maybe late afternoon or evening would be a better time to find a vociferous soul who wouldn’t be adverse to talking. He let his gaze sweep the boardwalk. A lone man sat outside the general store. Jeffery strode down the walk and stopped nearby. “I say, good morning, sir.” He tipped his hat and mustered the most genial smile he could command.
A pair of shrewd gray eyes lifted. The man lowered the stick he’d been whittling but kept the knife poised right above his belt. “Same t’you, mister.” He stared at Jeffery’s black bowler hat and scowled. “You a city man?”
“Back East, yes. What might you be working on?” He ventured a step closer and peered at the chunk of wood the man held.
“Nothin’ much. Just a play pretty fer my grandson. Cain’t work in the mines no more, ’count of my bum leg.” He gestured at the limb tucked under the bench.
“Ah, I see.” Jeffery sized the man up. He must be at least sixty years old, with steely gray hair, a mustache, and dusty clothes. From the looks of things, he’d been working somewhere recently, even if not in the mines. “Care to share the story of what happened to your leg?”
The man glared. “Not especially. ’Tain’t anyone’s business but mine.” He jerked his head in a semblance of a nod. “Have yerself a good day.” He bowed his head back over his knife.
Jeffery had heard that people in the West were warm and hospitable, but somehow that didn’t appear to extend to questions about their past or current business. At this rate, his mission here would stalemate, and he’d be stuck in this two-bit town forever. Of course, he could always move on to a city—back to the comforts he’d become accustomed to—but that wouldn’t serve his purpose like this close-knit community.
Maybe move on to another small town? He shook his head. The residents would likely act the same. He’d have to keep plugging away with his questions and hope he’d find someone who’d give him the information he needed.
Micah Jacobs. He was an outsider as well. Maybe Micah could add to Jeffery’s store of knowledge, limited though it was at the moment. He shouldn’t be as reticent to talk about the area—that is, if he knew much about it. Jeffery’s shoulders slumped. From what he understood, the man had lived here less than a month. He sauntered on down the street, keeping an eye open for any other likely candidates.
So far he hadn’t tried questioning Katherine Galloway. His pretty landlady seemed open when he’d first arrived, but since the arrival of her mother, she’d changed—become closed and reserved. Of course, with a mother like Frances Cooper, who could blame her? Jeffery had kept to himself as much as possible since the woman’s arrival, only taking meals at the house and spending the rest of his time in town or in his room. He’d looked forward to occupying the comfortable parlor of an evening, but butting heads with that strong-minded, sharp-tongued woman didn’t appeal. Not even if it meant gaining the information he sought more quickly.
Too bad. He’d have enjoyed getting to know Katherine better. Her two children were well behaved and obedient and didn’t lend stress to the atmosphere. Katherine appeared educated, and he missed discoursing on the great works of literature and poetry he so enjoyed. Maybe he’d stay around awhile this evening. Mrs. Cooper might retire early, and he’d have a chance to speak to his landlady. He smiled as he stepped up onto the boardwalk running the length of Front Street. That sound
ed like an excellent plan, and one he’d be happy to put into effect.
Katherine breathed a sigh of relief. The breakfast dishes were done, Mr. Tucker was out on an errand, the girls were in school. Once Lucy and Mandy had walked out the door, Mama had headed to her room, making it clear she wanted to read. All the better. Mama didn’t care to be disturbed while she read, so Katherine could feel at ease making her way to the church. She removed her apron and folded it carefully, laying it aside, then donned her hat and slipped out the door.
The path from her home to the church wound between the outskirts of town on one side and the flower-strewn field where Mandy had picked her bouquet on the other. Katherine inhaled the alluring scent of rain-washed air. The light shower that passed in the night had settled the dust and perked up the flowers. Katherine waved at a woman who was hanging clothes on the line at the far edge of a yard. Even Mama’s presence couldn’t weigh Katherine down when the sun shone on her face and friends waited at her destination.
Three buggies were parked in front of the one-story white church. The townspeople were proud of their building, which sported a bell tower and didn’t have to double as a school. The miners and businessmen, generous in their giving, had erected this fine house of worship.
Daniel had helped raise the walls, although he’d struggled with the work. He was more a man of letters than one to swing a hammer, but he’d wanted to do his part. She’d never understood why he’d felt it necessary to take summer work in a mine. It wasn’t like they were poor. But he’d wanted more for their girls than what he’d had as a boy….
She pushed the memories back. No time for grief—she’d had enough of that in recent years. Today she planned to enjoy the two hours away from home. As the Good Book said, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” And, with Mama, Katherine knew trouble was one thing she could count on.
A voice rang out as her foot landed on the bottom step and Katherine turned. A tall, willowy young woman with flaming red hair stepped away from the hitching rail, grasped her calico skirt, and hurried across to where Katherine stood. “So glad I caught you before you went in.” She drew Katherine into a fierce hug. “I heard your mother arrived last week, and I wasn’t sure I’d see you today. Is everything all right?”
Katherine gripped her friend’s arms and blinked back moisture. “Leah, you have no idea how much I needed that hug. Let’s go in, and I’ll fill in everyone at once.” She opened the door, allowed Leah Carlson to enter ahead of her, then shut the door behind her.
A trio of voices greeted the two as they made their way across the sanctuary and over to a side room where the quilting frame waited.
Virginia Lewis waved a wrinkled hand, her weathered face breaking into a grin. “We hoped you ladies would make it today. Welcome!”
Twenty-year-old Ella Farnsworth raised her head and gave a timid smile. “Good mornin’.” She shifted her weight to her other foot and laid a hand on her protruding belly.
Katherine moved close and gave her a gentle hug. “Is your little one causing discomfort, dear?”
A rosy flush colored the girl’s face. “He’s a bit cantankerous this mornin’. I think he’s ready to see the world.” She sighed. “But not near as ready as I am to see him.”
Virginia laughed. “Why do you think it’s a boy, Ella?”
She pursed her lips. “Guess the way he kicks and uses his knees and elbows all at the same time. ’Sides, Matt wants a son powerful bad.”
Hester Sue Masters poked Ella with her elbow. “After birthin’ four sons and two daughters, I’d have to say I agree with your Matt. Boys are easy to raise, compared to girls.”
Katherine chuckled. “Guess I’ll never find out, since the Lord blessed me with two daughters.” She took her place behind the quilting frame, gazing at the colorful yellow, red, and white sunburst-patterned quilt they planned on sending to an orphanage. All the blocks were set, and the intricate stitching came next. She threaded her needle and admired the artful handiwork. “It’s certainly coming together nicely.”
Virginia straightened her spine and rubbed the small of her back. “I’m glad. Guess I’m not as spry as I used to be, and bending over this quilt for an hour feels like two. Not that I’m complaining. I love the fellowship with you ladies. But for the next quilt, I’m going to talk one of my granddaughters into helping so we’ll finish more in the same amount of time. This fine stitching takes a toll on my eyesight.”
Katherine patted the older woman’s arm. “Your work is some of the best I’ve ever seen. Why, I don’t think my mother could quilt any finer, and she was known for her exquisite creations back home.”
Hester Sue drew the thread through a quilt square and narrowed her eyes. “I heard tell your mama has come to pay you a visit. She all settled in?”
“Oh yes. Settled and determined to stay.” Instantly Katherine was appalled at the angry tone that colored her words. “I’m sorry. That was disrespectful.”
Hester Sue snorted. “Not to my mind. You’re speakin’ from your heart. Nothin’ wrong with that.”
Virginia met the other woman’s gaze. “I agree there’s nothing wrong with a woman sharing her heart to her friends, but I also understand what Katherine means. The Good Book says we should honor our parents.”
“I know it does, Virginia. But doesn’t it also say someplace that parents aren’t supposed to rile their children without reason? I don’t rightly remember the whole verse, but I do know it’s not all one-sided.” Hester Sue drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My pa riled us kids all the time when he got liquored up. Whipped us and hit our ma for no reason a’tall. A mean drunk, that’s what he was, till the day he died. Not sure how you honor someone like that.”
Ella raised her hand as though asking permission to speak. “I don’t think the Bible says we’re supposed to agree with what they do or even like it, but my mama always taught me we should respect our elders and forgive wrongs done to us.”
Virginia poked her needle into the quilt and left it there. “You have the right idea, Ella. And it’s not always an easy thing, especially when they don’t deserve it. We’ve all met people who are hard to live with and get more crotchety in their old age.” She patted the sides of her silver hair, which was swept back into a knot at the back of her head. “I have a head full of gray now, but when I was young, I always declared I’d not be one of those mean old ladies.”
Katherine sank onto the stool behind her. “I wish Mama had made that decision.” She almost hated herself for saying the words out loud, but if she didn’t let them out in this safe place, she knew something worse would tumble out at home. “I don’t know why Mama dislikes me so much.”
Leah had been silent, listening to the other ladies share. Now she tapped her toe on the hardwood floor. “Are you sure it’s you she dislikes?”
Katherine’s head shot up. “What do you mean? I’m the one she criticizes.”
“I was thinking …” Leah’s head tipped to the side, her red hair glinting in the sun that streamed through the stained glass windows. “Maybe she’s angry at someone else and takes it out on you. Was she a happy child? Do you know if she had a good marriage?” She pushed a wayward tendril out of her face. “I don’t mean to pry, but sometimes when people have been hurt, it comes out as anger toward others.”
Hester Sue shrugged. “Pa was downright mean. I don’t think it’s ’cause he was hidin’ any hurts.”
“But you never know, Hester Sue. Maybe his pa beat him, too.” Virginia’s calm tone flowed across the ripples of tension starting to form in the room. “Leah might be right, Katherine. Do you know much about your mother’s past?”
“Not a lot. I know she worshipped her first husband, and it crushed her when he died. And my pa …” She clenched her jaw and hesitated. How much could she tell these women? Yes, she’d come to love and trust them, but would it do any good to air her family’s dirty laundry? Yet she’d been carrying the burden for so long, and she longed
to find a reasonable explanation for her mother’s behavior—something that didn’t point back at her, if possible. “I think she married my pa so she wouldn’t be alone while raising my older sister, June. Then, after she found out Pa had a gambling problem and couldn’t hold on to money, she lost all respect for him.” She remembered something she’d heard her mother say years ago. “I don’t think she got along with her own father either. I’m not sure, but I think he broke my grandmother’s heart more than once.”
A chorus of clucks and sympathetic voices surrounded Katherine, wrapping her in a cocoon of comfort.
“I see what you all are saying,” she said slowly, “but I’m not sure Mama’s past has much to do with how she treats me. From what I can tell, I’ve just never measured up to what she expected me to be—at least, not like June did.”
Virginia slipped a slender arm around Katherine’s shoulders. “We love you, child, and I’m guessing your mother does too. Maybe she has a hard time showing it, but you keep on praying and seeking the Lord, and He’ll give you the key to unlocking her heart in His own time.”
“That’s right, Katherine.” Hester Sue’s brown eyes snapped. “Keep on prayin’, but you mustn’t feel you don’t have friends. Anytime you need to talk, you come runnin’ to us, you hear?”
Katherine smiled and nodded. “I’m so thankful for each of you.” She leaned back over the quilt and stabbed at the fabric, trying to see through the tears clouding her vision. What she wouldn’t give to have Virginia as her mother, or even Hester Sue with all her rough edges. She’d keep on praying, but somehow she couldn’t imagine Mama’s heart changing anytime soon.
Frances watched at the window as Katherine sauntered off the road and up the path toward the house. Frances had been puttering in the kitchen for close to an hour, making a special dish for their luncheon. Obviously her daughter hadn’t cared to hurry home to her domestic chores, but they still needed tending. Another example of Katherine’s flibbertigibbet ways—she needed to think things through before dashing off to wherever she had been all morning.
Blowing on Dandelions: A Novel (Love Blossoms in Oregon Series) Page 5