Little Rowena mewed in her sleep and nestled herself deeper into Dawn’s arms. Dawn stroked the child’s downy head, the fine baby strands of hair damp on her forehead like dewy spider webs. To want more from life was what she’d trained herself to deny. Those desires for intimacy she’d locked away believing they were not ordained for her. In time, acceptance had turned to peace, a peace she didn’t wish to disturb.
But all that had changed with the discovery of a stack of letters bound in ribbon. Her safe world was her yesterday and tomorrow stretched before her, a long uncertain road.
The question he posed she’d not pondered for years. What would she change? Her abnormality? No. Would anyone believe her? Probably not. But she’d often thought of that after the preacher had pronounced it a judgement on her father’s sin. She no longer saw it as a curse, for she could not accept that her good and loving father could be the author of anything unnatural or cruel. Were she to rail against how she’d been created, and shake her fist at God, she’d have denied not only her father’s goodness but that of God, as well.
What she had in exchange for something that set her apart from her peers, was a quality of resilience. She’d grown strong in other ways that compensated for her perceived weakness. Her compassion for others, those less fortunate, those afflicted by physical infirmities, had altered her definition of true charity. No, she would not change who she’d been created to be. But might she have been wrong about God’s will for the rest of her life? Did the road ahead include more than what she’d grown content to accept?
She met Luke’s questioning eyes and thought of Nate’s words this morning. ‘If the road is open, why not take it and see where it leads?’ Was there more to Luke’s questions than idle curiosity? But she’d made a fool of herself earlier, speaking her thoughts aloud. She’d not make that mistake again. “What would I change? Very little, I suppose. But what of you?” she asked brightly.
“Oh no, I’ll not answer that again.” He leaned back, his face losing the pensiveness of moments earlier. He grinned sheepishly. “The last time I walked away with a lecture, remember?”
She felt the sting of his words, but took his tone of humor as forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to make it appear a lecture. I suppose it’s my turn to apologize.” She very much wanted to avoid another cross exchange with the man.
Luke removed the pencil from Tommy’s mouth and refocused the boy’s attention on the pencil’s designed purpose. Tommy giggled.
“Unnecessary. I’ve given thought to what you said.” He looked up, serious again. “I have been making excuses. I’ve been avoiding the real issue.”
Tommy pulled on his hand and pointed to the page. Luke patted the child’s head and smiled. “What’s that you’ve drawn?”
“Stu,” The boy said.
“Stu?”
The child pointed to the cattle grazing on the long valley grasses. “Stu!”
Luke passed Dawn a questioning glance.
Dawn whispered, “Steer?”
“Stu!” Tommy repeated with growing frustration. “Stu!”
Luke laughed. “Yes, stew.” He threw a wink in Dawn’s direction. “The boy knows where dinner comes from. Bart appears to be growing himself a cattleman.”
The child began to draw furiously, one stu after the other, short lines scattered across the page.
“I like his style,” Luke said.
“What’s the issue, Luke, the one that’s kept you from taking the road your mother spoke of?”
He pulled the child into his lap and readjusted his position on the porch step. A moment passed before he met her eyes with his. “The one thing any man least wants to admit he lacks—courage.”
Chapter Sixteen
Aurora Diem
“The power of imagination makes us infinite.”
John Muir
July 3, 1890
Storm clouds lay heavy on the hills, as a cool north wind blew along the Wood River Valley. According to Evan, rain was sure to follow. On this, the morning of Ketchum’s celebration, the weather forecast was met with tight lips, and not a few, heavy sighs and anxious looks cast to the heavens. The Ladies’ Missionary Society called an emergency prayer meeting hoping to appeal to Providence for diverting the rain at least as far as Idaho Falls.
“What’s a little rain to Idahoans? Seems fitting to my way of thinking.” Bart shoveled a mouthful of eggs into his mouth, narrowly avoiding Tommy’s grabbing fingers on the fork’s way to his mouth.
“Fitting? In what way is it fitting, Mr. Long?” Jessie steamed, holding the coffeepot hovering above his empty mug. “Do you know how many days of planning have gone into this day?” Fire flared in her blue eyes, and the room grew still. Considering the tension she’d brought upon the household with her ambitious baking plans, no one wished to become the spark that set the kitchen ablaze this morning.
“I’m sure Bart meant nothing offensive.” Lena skewered Bart with a warning glance as she set a plate of sausage before him, the plate hitting the table with a resounding clunk.
Bart swallowed down his eggs and gave his wife a sheepish grin. “All I meant was that we wouldn’t let any rainstorm, no matter how much thunder came with it, dampen our spirits today.”
Lena smiled her approval. It was a good recovery and hopefully sufficient to put out the ember that smoldered in her friend, Jessie.
“Besides, we need a good soaking.” He reached for his coffee, narrowly dodging Tommy’s hand along the way.
Lena rolled her eyes. Some men didn’t know when to quit when they were ahead.
Jessie huffed and stomped back to the stove.
“The ranch hands will trade off coming into town today. I didn’t want them to miss out,” Evan said. He passed Lena a wink. “Did you pass the word this morning, Bart?”
Bless that man’s heart, he was as sharp as a tack when it came to relationships. It was one more aspect of his personality that made him distinct from most men, and one that she found particularly endearing. She leaned down and kissed his cheek, whispering, “I love you, Mr. Hartmann.”
Bart lifted his mug and said, “Already done.”
“Think we can have the wagon packed in an hour?” Evan asked.
“I’ll get right on it.” Bart wiped his mouth with his napkin and passed Tommy into Lena’s arms.
“I’ll let our guests know. The Fairburn’s are finishing their breakfast on the porch. Since Luke left just after daybreak, we’ll meet up with him later.” Lena refilled the coffeepot and headed for the porch. She turned back at the door. “It will be a wonderful day, no matter what the weather.”
Bart, Jessie and Evan turned their heads to gape at her.
“Just think what this means to all of us! Statehood! We’re a part of a grand beginning!” Lena whirled, leaving them with little doubt to her meaning.
***
By the time the Hartmann party arrived in town, the sky had not yet made its forecast clear. Relieved as they were not to be enduring a torrential downpour, the pandemonium that greeted them created its own torrent of anxiety.
Jessie exclaimed, “Oh, Land’s sake, where’s their teacher! Those children should already be in costume and secured inside the train depot not dancing in the dust. I told her to hogtie them if necessary.”
She jumped from the wagon without waiting for Bart’s help, and took off at a trot, flinging out her arms, shooing the children like chickens. “Maggie, John, grab the younger children’s hands and follow me.”
Lena released a shaky sigh. “I hope we all survive this.” She turned to Dawn with a look of appeal. “I know you’re our guest, but could you—”
“Of course.” Dawn reached out and took Rowena from Lena’s arms. She looked anxiously at Tommy, who was still sitting uncharacteristically quiet on his father’s lap.
Bart caught her anxious expression and chuckled. “Don’t worry. I got this one. Jessie already made me swear to keep him in tow all day.” He grinned mischievously, giving him an
uncanny resemblance to the impish child on his lap, red hair and all. “Besides, it gives me an excuse not to get dragged into all that.” He nodded to the half-dozen, wild-eyed men setting up tables under the exuberant direction of a dozen women.
“I’ll just unload the wagon.” Bart said as he propped Tommy on the bench seat.
“But I thought you were staying with him?” Just over her horizon, panic raised its head. “I’m not sure I can handle them both.” Her voice squeaked unnaturally high.
“Oh, I’m not going out of sight. Just going to lay everything out right over there.” He pointed to a table already loaded with boxes and baskets of what Dawn presumed to be baked goods, since the sign tied to the front proclaimed “Muffins, Rolls, Pies & Cookies” in large red letters.
Dawn eyed Tommy, who seemed quite mesmerized by the multi-colored banners and bunting lining the street, draped on balconies, posts and even animals. She wrapped her arm around him and said, “Daddy will be right back.”
“Hands full again, I see.”
Dawn pivoted, nearly propelling Rowena into Luke’s arms.
“Whoa, there.” He put out a steadying hand and pushed the child back on Dawn’s lap.
“Thank goodness, you’re here!” She inclined her head in Tommy’s direction. “Would you?”
Luke laughed and trotted to the other side of the wagon, lifting the boy out and settling the child in his arms.
“You’re a lifesaver, Luke.”
“Can’t leave a lady in distress.”
The tension lines marking his brow, that she’d seen deepen over the past few days, were gone. She wondered if it might be due to the absence of Nathan. No one could compare his illustrations now that Nate was assigned to Hailey. But would his publisher even look at Luke’s if they decided the Hailey celebration was more newsworthy? Still, he looked more at ease and the effect on his features was a vast improvement over the scowl. He appeared more approachable and far less prickly than two days ago.
“It’s nice to see so much of the community wrapped up in this. I’ve seen parades in New York, but this is special. They’ve taken it so personally.”
Along with the chaos of activity there was the constant ripple of laughter, loud excited voices and children’s gleeful cries. It was special. What would it be like to be a part of a community where you recognized neighbors and friends on every stroll through town? Where people recognized you—knew you?
“Have you already made some drawings this morning?”
“A few.”
He seemed to be less defensive even if he was less than loquacious in his response. Perhaps prudence would allow her to harness her desire to ask him to expound on his morning work. Those discussions between them hadn’t ended well.
Luke asked, “How will you entertain yourself while our hosts are setting up?” He swung his head around, searching the faces milling about. “Where’s your father? I didn’t see him when you rode in?”
“He said there was an elusive fish calling to him from the river. Evan left his saddle horse with him so he could join us later. I never realized just how much he missed fishing,” Dawn said.
A hopeful smile flashed across Luke’s face, touching her with its open honesty. “Then, would you allow me to escort you? I’ve already had a preview.”
“That would be nice.” She glanced down at Rowena. “But we might have to wait until we’re relieved of our charges.”
“I can do that immediately.” Lena stood on the opposite side of the wagon. She extended her hands for Tommy as Bart trotted up to relieve Dawn of Rowena’s care. “Now, you two take a stroll and enjoy the festivities. If you grow weary, just find me at the Ladies’ Aide booth just down the block in front of the church.”
Dawn stood and smoothed her skirts before turning to Luke who waited to assist her from the wagon.
“Would you rather we moved to the boardwalk? It would be easier walking.” Not waiting for her reply, he steered her to the steps in front of the bank.
Dawn moved more confidently along the flat sidewalk and smiled her gratitude to Luke. “That’s much better.” She glanced at his profile, thinking of the tactful manner in which he’d offered her assistance. When had he noticed her unnatural gait, her abnormality? Whenever he had, his attitude toward her seemed unchanged. She detected no shift to pity. A smile crossed her face. His natural defensiveness and stubbornness remained constants in his character. A fleeting thought turned her smile grim. Weren’t these characteristics they shared?
A jovial brick of a man wearing a starched white apron stood outside the Barber Shop. He was handing out hard sugar sticks to the passersby. “Here you go. Don’t matter your age. We’re all kids today.”
Luke accepted two, handing one to Dawn. “I think I could like it here,” he said.
Dawn turned to him, laying her hand on his arm. “Am I keeping you from working?”
“I have been, since early morning. I’m pleased with my work, and I’ll spend more time this afternoon when the parade begins and the politicians start their elocutions.”
He looked pleased, increasing her curiosity to see his drawings.
He steered their course around the corner onto a back street where wagons were bedecked in brightly painted signs. Girls in white dresses and white hats, wearing a rainbow of ribbons, were gathered in tight groups engaged in spirited gossip. Luke navigated their way through the droppings of dozens of horses equally outfitted with ribbons in their tails and tied to their saddles. Many had flower garlands woven into their manes.
“Let’s cross the street. I have something to show you.” He took her hand and led her around a freight wagon being used as a float for a small band.
Dawn was caught up now in the excitement spiriting through the town. Something was astir that she couldn’t completely grasp. It wasn’t that she’d never experience the thrill of a political event. She’d seen and been intimately part of those with her father. But this was different, more innocent somehow. Fresh, like newly tilled earth, expectant for the life to come.
Luke squeezed her hand in warning as a team of horses pulling a fire wagon crossed in front of them. Dawn glanced down at his large hand firmly gripping her own, then up at his face as he kept his eyes trained on the bustling activity in the street. She felt nothing of her usual anxiety in uncertain surroundings. That fact amazed her. Luke shifted his focus and smiled at her. “Exciting, isn’t it?”
She gave a quick nod. “Wonderful.”
They’d walked beyond the city proper, along a road where the houses sat farther apart. If the town grew, the road would soon be lined with street lights. She wondered if that would be a good thing or a disappointment to those who liked the closeness of a smaller town.
Luke took a sharp turn and led them down a narrow lane. A small stable, built close to the road, looked cozy enough to take shelter from the storm if it broke above their heads. She glanced up at the dark clouds tumbling above them. She was about to ask if they shouldn’t return and take shelter in town, when he stopped and stepped onto the bottom rail of a corral.
He gave her a boyish, secret grin. “Look inside, behind the mare.”
Dawn stepped up beside him and leaned in, tipping her head to peer into the straw-filled stable.
“She’s just a few hours old,” he said.
Just beyond the shadows, a petite nose rested on an equally tiny hoof. The filly lifted her head and looked at them through large liquid eyes. Dawn gave a small gasp of pleasure. How dear!
“I talked to the owner this morning. They haven’t named her yet. The man was quite excited to claim he had a filly born on statehood day.”
Dawn wrinkled her nose. “I hope he doesn’t name the poor thing Idaho.”
Luke chuckled. “Funny thing is, his wife is a schoolteacher and has a fancy of giving her a name from the Latin. Do you know the words for dawn of a new day?”
She turned to see him wearing a wide grin. “That’s her name? Really?” she asked.
<
br /> “That’s why I thought seeing her might interest you. That and the fact that she’s a beautiful animal.” He pulled out his sketchbook and turned to the page of the newborn filly. Luke had captured the wonder of new life when she had first pulled her feet beneath her, still wet and trembling.
“How wonderful! It’s amazing. So much in such a simple sketch. How I’d love to see what you could do with this with more time.” She looked at him, with fresh appreciation. But were she to give him her honest opinion, he would probably deny its validity. She chose to say. “You have a gift.”
She sensed from his expression a struggle within to repudiate her opinion. To his credit, he held his tongue and simply closed the book and put it back in his satchel.
“So, do you recall your Latin well enough?” he asked.
Dawn drew back a few curtains of useless education until the name took form. She smiled as the words came to her. “It would be a lovely name.” She leaned over the rail and spoke to the filly. “Aurora Diem, how do you like your name? I hope they shorten it to Aurora.”
Chapter Seventeen
The Silence In Between
“The music is not in the notes, but in the silence in between.” Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
July 3, 1890
Dawn’s father arrived in time for the parade, allowing Luke the opportunity to excuse himself as her escort and return to his chosen vantage point. Dawn watched him go with a modicum of regret. He intrigued her now more than she’d like to admit. Where she’d earlier dismissed his eccentricity as the tendency for artists, she now believed the man to be something more. Perhaps this was what had brought him to the attention of his patron, his visual sagacity.
Along with a few other distinguished guests, the Hartmanns had arranged for Dawn and her father to view the parade from the hotel balcony. Dawn gratefully accepted because her legs urgently needed rest.
The actual parade turned out to be only a portion of the tableau arrayed below them. The audience brought their own color and enthusiasm, rivaling that of the floats, the marching musicians and dancing children. Men sat astride horses both in the parade and as spectators along the route. Children, who’d overindulged in free sweets, darted in and out of the crowd, around the legs of performers, wagons, and nervous horses. The parade evolved more than passed before them, a kaleidoscope of effervescent faces and enraptured voices.
A Portrait of Dawn Page 16