by Jane Porter
The intensity of her feelings used to frighten her, as did the consuming nature of the attraction. She spent her nights worrying how to convince her father to accept Sinclair as a suitor, and then she worried that maybe Sinclair would not approach her father.
It was Sinclair who brought the topic up, just weeks before her high school graduation. “If I thought you were ready to marry, I’d approach your father next month, but you’re not ready.”
“You do want to marry me though, don’t you?”
“I love you.”
“Then promise me you’ll wait for me. Promise me you won’t marry anyone while I’m gone.”
“What about you? Will you fall in love with someone in New York?”
“Never. I love you.” She meant it, too. Her love burned within her. He had no idea how strongly he made her feel.
Chapter Seven
It was a week to day since the Hallowe’en party at the Brambles, and McKenna had visitors, and not just any visitors, but Johanna and Mrs. Douglas.
McKenna had been cleaning her fireplace—a task she’d put off for far too long—when she’d heard voices outside, feminine voices, and she grabbed a cloth, scrubbed at her soot-blackened hands, before opening her door.
“Johanna,” she exclaimed, stepping out on to the porch, shocked to see Sinclair’s sister and mother on her doorstep. “Mrs. Douglas. It’s so nice to see you. Come in, come in.”
She drew them into her home, suddenly nervous. She gestured towards the fireplace. “I’m sorry I don’t have a fire lit. I thought since its mild today I would do a bit of housekeeping.” McKenna knew she was talking too much but she felt embarrassed to be caught in an old work dress with soot on her hands and face. “Where should we sit? I haven’t done any entertaining yet. I have a stool and the rocking chair and I can sit on the side of my bed.”
“Don’t fuss on our account,” Mrs. Douglas said, placing a cloth covered pail on the table. “We brought you something for your supper, but we won’t be staying long. The days are getting shorter and shorter.”
“Oh, please don’t talk of leaving already. I’m glad you came. Would you like tea? Let me just finish and I’ll build a fire and put the kettle on—”
“Please don’t trouble yourself,” Johanna, exquisite in a tailored, blue afternoon dress with a matching cape, interrupted while peeling off her gloves. “Mother can sit here in the rocking chair, and I’ll take the stool, and you just relax. We didn’t come to create more work. We just wanted to welcome you properly to Marietta, and apologize for not coming sooner.”
McKenna sat down on her bed, truly surprised, but also wary because it had been years since she’d seen them. She wasn’t sure if they harbored ill will towards her, either. “No apology needed. I didn’t even know you were here until last weekend when I attended the party at Mrs. Bramble’s.” She drew a quick breath. “Which reminds me, thank you so much for the lovely bread and cake you sent with Sinclair on Sunday. That was much appreciated.”
McKenna caught Johanna and Mrs. Douglas’ swift exchange of glances but didn’t know what that meant.
Silence stretched.
She drew another breath and tried to keep her tone bright. “It really is lovely to see you both. It’s almost like being home.”
“How are you faring so far our of town, my dear?” Mrs. Douglas asked.
“Good,” McKenna said, choosing to ignore Johanna’s arched brow. “Of course, it’s different from what I knew before coming here and, as you can imagine, I’m learning a great deal. I spend a lot of my free time writing letters. My friends in New York think I should write a book, The Vassar Girl in Paradise Valley.” Her laughter faded as she realized they weren’t smiling with her.
She struggled to think of something to fill the uncomfortable quiet. “How is your business, Johanna? Your brother mentioned you have your own shop.”
“She’s doing very well,” Mrs. Douglas answered. “Johanna can barely keep up with the orders.”
“That’s wonderful,” McKenna said warmly.
“Yes, it is, but how are you getting on?” Mrs. Douglas glanced towards the hearth with the cast iron tripod. “I see you’ve been trying to cook over your fire. I did that many years ago.”
“It’s a challenge,” McKenna admitted. “But, fortunately, I’m just cooking for me, and I’m learning as I go.”
“If you have questions, I’m happy to help if I can, but I’ll be honest, I’ll never give up my stove. It’s my favorite thing in the house. I can cook on it, and bake and I love how quickly I can make a cup of tea now.”
“I certainly will never take a cup of tea for granted again,” McKenna said firmly. “But do tell me about Marietta. I’ve only been to town a couple times. Are you happy there? Do you ever miss Butte?”
“It’s not Butte,” Johanna said, “but no place is.”
“True,” Mrs. Douglas added. “Yet we like Marietta. It’s not a fancy place, but our circumstances are so much improved from Dublin Gulch. I’d never go back there.”
“Your Butte was very different from others.” Johanna unhooked her dark blue cape, revealing the elegant navy ruffle at the throat of her dress. “We don’t live with the mining community. We are in town, and every day it seems as if there is something happening. The train changed everything and they’ve just put in street lights on Main Street. Soon all the houses on Bramble will have electricity, too.”
“Oh, that’s lovely. I’m envious.” McKenna said, and it was true. She did not love her lanterns. It made reading and needlework harder, tiring her eyes. “Sinclair mentioned your dress shop. He said your business is quite successful.”
“It’s growing, and its almost always word of mouth. I have all the latest magazines and so if someone needs a new dress, or a wedding gown, they come to me. I will order fabric for them, too. I enjoy my work very much.” Johanna glanced around the small cabin. “And you? Do you enjoy your work?”
McKenna nodded. “I like teaching, yes.”
“You spent enough time in school,” Johanna said, nose wrinkling. “But it seems disappointing that even with all your education you ended up here. This is so very… rustic.”
McKenna heard the criticism but let it go, determined to keep things light. “When I’m not sure I’m happy here I pretend I traveled a great distance in a Conestoga wagon and have arrived after many months in the wilderness and thank God for my snug cabin with its lovely stone hearth.” She smiled. “Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t.”
Johanna wasn’t smiling. “You’re not afraid living alone out here? You don’t have any neighbors close by.”
“I have a good deadbolt on my door.”
Mrs. Douglas frowned. “My dear, but where is all your firewood? Where are your provisions? We’ve had good weather but it won’t be long before the first hard storm hits, and I worry you’re not prepared.”
“I’m low on firewood now but, in general, the boys at school have been very good at keeping my woodpile stocked, and one my students’ families, they have dairy cows, and we’ve worked out an agreement where I write letters for them and help keep their books and in return once a week they bring me fresh milk and eggs and cheese—and every two weeks a bit of butter. It’s very good butter, too.”
“And bread? Do you make it yourself?” Mrs. Douglas asked.
“I’ve tried.” McKenna grimaced. “It’s nothing like yours, so I mostly make biscuits or cornbread, but it works when I’m hungry.”
“Oh, McKenna,” Johanna sighed. “If only you’d been more careful in New York! I’m so sorry to see you like this.”
McKenna’s cheeks went hot. She couldn’t bear the pity. “I should have, yes. You’re absolutely right. But, I’m surprisingly content in my cabin, teaching at the school. On weekends I walk to the store in Emigrant and mail my letters and chat with Mr. Bottler’s clerk and I’m happy. Maybe I’ll feel differently when I’m snowed in, but right now I feel blessed.”
“Blessed?”<
br />
She nodded. “Compared to many women I am in a most enviable position.”
Johanna looked perplexed. “How can you possibly believe that?”
McKenna gestured to the door and beyond. “I’m independent. I have a job, a home. My superintendent, Mr. Egan, said he’s quite pleased with my work. My students respect me. Their parents are grateful I am here. All in all, I would consider myself most fortunate.”
“But you don’t know how to do this!” Johanna’s voice sharpened. “You’re not at all equipped to live out here, in a rustic cabin, on your own.”
“Emigrant is five miles south. Marietta is ten miles north. I’m healthy and strong. Yes, I work hard, but my families keep an eye on me. And I have you, too, as friends, to offer me encouragement and support.” McKenna smoothed her skirt, flattening wrinkles from her dress, a light green that had turned to gray with repeated washings. “Are you truly concerned for me, or are you unhappy that I am here?”
Johanna leaned forward. “Wouldn’t you be happier in a city? Wouldn’t being somewhere with music and theatres and lots of social activities be preferable to… this?”
“I wasn’t offered a teaching position in a city. I was offered a position here.” McKenna’s gaze locked with Johanna’s. “And, forgive me, but I’m confused. Are you worried about my safety, or is there something else troubling you? Because I was here for two months before you came to call on me, which makes me think that perhaps we are not on such… friendly… terms anymore.”
“Surely, you’re not surprised.” Johanna’s lips curved, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “We were friendly because of my brother. He brought us together. I was there for you because he asked me to look after you.”
“We were friends before Sinclair.”
“But we wouldn’t have been as close if it were not for him.” Johanna seemed to struggle with the next words. “I just don’t understand. You had everything. Everything. And you threw it all away.”
“Would I like electricity and plumbing? Yes. But losing them isn’t the end of the world—”
“And Sinclair?” Johanna interrupted. “What about him?”
It was like a slap across her face. McKenna jerked backwards, stung. For a moment there was just silence, the silence heavy and suffocating.
Mrs. Douglas murmured something to Johanna. But Johanna’s chin jutted up, her expression hard.
“She had everything.” Johanna repeated, looking from her mother to McKenna. “Including Sinclair. And she threw him away, along with the rest of it.”
McKenna couldn’t defend herself. Johanna was right. McKenna had been spoiled and selfish and utterly self-absorbed, so willful and preoccupied that she never stopped to think how her actions would impact others.
She hadn’t just wounded Sinclair, she’d alienated his family, too. “I apologized to your brother when he drove me home last week, and I would like to apologize to you both as well. I am sorry, Mrs. Douglas, and I am sorry, Johanna, deeply sorry—”
“You don’t owe us an apology,” Mrs. Douglas interrupted. “Whatever was between you and my son is your affair, not ours. I do not wish to get in the middle, especially as he is doing quite well. I am just grateful he is out of the mines, and healthy, and happy. That is all I could wish for him. More health, and more happiness.”
“What my mother isn’t saying is that he is interested in someone,” Johanna said bluntly. “She is a good match for him, too. Mother and I are quite fond of her and we believe she will make my brother happy.”
McKenna exhaled, stunned. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, or think. She sat frozen until little spots danced before her eyes.
Mrs. Douglas spoke to her daughter in a low voice, the words unintelligible, but Johanna just shrugged her off. Mrs. Douglas looked away, expression pained.
McKenna shivered, suddenly chilled. She started to her feet to add a log to the fire when she remembered there was no fire, and frankly, now, when she had an audience, wasn’t the time to try to build one. “He didn’t mention her to me,” she said at length.
Mrs. Douglas’s voice dropped. “He is a private man.”
McKenna felt so much in that moment—surprise, disappointment, confusion—she didn’t know what to say. McKenna caught the way they exchanged glances.
She forced herself to speak. “So he is courting?”
Another glance between mother and daughter.
“We shouldn’t say too much.” Johanna ducked her head. “I don’t want to distress you.”
“Sinclair would never shame you,” Mrs. Douglas added. “He will always be protective of you.”
Johanna’s lips compressed. “Maybe too protective, because it’s important that he thinks of her now. I’m not saying this to hurt you, or punish you, but if his relationship is to progress, he must think of her. Not you.”
“Of course,” McKenna murmured, her pulse thumping hard. She could feel the intense drumming everywhere—in her veins, her heart, her head. “The relationship… it’s become quite serious?”
“They are not yet engaged, but it’s our hope it will happen soon. Maybe over the holidays,” Mrs. Douglas said.
Johanna nodded. “There is no reason for him to wait. He’s financially stable. He has an excellent piece of land. He’s doing well with his cattle. There is nothing to prevent him from marrying and having children.” She gave McKenna a long look. “Nothing should come between him and his happiness.”
McKenna’s lips parted, closed. It was none of her business. She had no right to ask. They owed her no explanation, either.
But McKenna couldn’t remain silent. “Is she from here? Or from Butte?”
Mrs. Douglas looked at her daughter. Johanna shrugged.
Mrs. Douglas hesitantly asked, “Are you sure you want to know this, my dear? We don’t want to upset you.”
McKenna seriously doubted that. Her voice firmed. “I’d rather hear it from you than a stranger.”
“I would be the same.” Johanna lifted her gloves and began to pull one back on. “Mr. Burnett, Ellie’s father, is from Texas. He came north with one of the big cattle drives and then stayed, buying land around Emigrant. He sent for his family. They had some trouble after arriving, and Mrs. Burnett died, leaving Miss Burnett to manage her father’s household.”
McKenna could hear the admiration in Johanna’s voice. “You like her.”
“She’s a good match for Sin.” At first Johanna sounded apologetic, but then she added, more defiantly. “She respects him.”
“They’re equals in every way,” Mrs. Douglas added.
McKenna suddenly knew what they were saying. This wasn’t a friendly social call. They’d come to make sure she understood how things were in Marietta. They were letting her know this wasn’t her town, and were warning her away. She was to keep her distance from Sinclair.
*
After Johanna and Mrs. Douglas left, McKenna sat on her front porch and watched the sun drop, the long gold rays gilding the jagged peaks of the Absaroka range. She wouldn’t let herself think about Johanna and Mrs. Douglas’ visit. She wouldn’t let their words hurt. No, she’d enjoy the beautiful valley and appreciate everything God had given her.
A sense of humor. A love for adventure. A job. Friends.
She was going to be just fine.
She breathed in the crisp, autumn air. Winter was coming. And the fireplace wasn’t going to clean itself, either.
Suppressing a sigh, McKenna headed back into the cabin and finished cleaning the fireplace. She then carried in fresh wood, stacking the logs against the stone hearth, before heading back out to get more wood. She kept working, making each armful bigger and heavier than the last until she couldn’t carry one more load, and then she sat down on her stool and pressed her knuckles to her mouth finally able to admit that the visit this afternoon from Sinclair’s family had hurt.
And Johanna could say what she wanted, but they had been friends, hadn’t they?
McKenna
thought back, remembering studying together, and sitting side by side during choir. She’d had Johanna over to her house on numerous occasions, and yes, they’d talk about Sinclair, but that was because Johanna would mention him, sharing something funny, and just possibly outrageous, mentioning his work periodically, but never revealing anything negative, conscious that McKenna’s father owned the mine. Those brief mentions would tease and yet sustain McKenna for another week, with weeks turning into years. Of course there were the rare occasions when McKenna would glimpse Sinclair at a school concert or picnic. He couldn’t attend most due to work, but every now and then he’d appear at a school social, and her heart would beat faster, and she’d try to watch him without anyone knowing she watched him.
On those rare occasions, McKenna and Sinclair always managed to exchange a word or two. It was never anything serious or substantial, either, but just being near Sinclair filled McKenna with warmth and an almost unbearable longing. She didn’t know what she wanted from Sinclair. She just knew she wanted something more. She knew he could give her more.
But Johanna? Were they ever truly friends, or had she befriended Johanna for selfish reasons?
Years ago, just before Johanna had left school to work, McKenna confessed to Johanna that she hadn’t been a good enough friend.
Johanna made a face. “You mean, because you like my brother?”
McKenna had nodded, her face hot with embarrassment.
“I’ve always known you’re interested in my brother, just as he’s interested in you.” Johanna’s smile faded. “But we also know your father will never approve of Sinclair as a suitor—”
“We don’t know that!”
“Oh, we do. I do. Why would he approve Sinclair as a husband, if he wouldn’t even permit me to be your friend?”