by Jillian Hart
He snapped the reins and headed home.
* * *
“Seth, is Jamie out here with you?”
“He sure is.” Seth asked his nephew to hand him the small mallet.
“I’m helpin’, Mama!”
“I see that.” Ginny’s face softened when she looked upon her son. “I bet you’re a wonderful helper.”
“The best I’ve ever seen,” Seth agreed.
Jamie beamed, pleased as he fished the mallet from the toolbox. Dark locks fell across his brow and reminded Seth of another little boy, one who hadn’t lived to reach his fifth birthday.
It was a sorrow and always would be. Seth swallowed hard as he accepted the mallet from the boy. “Thanks, Jamie.”
“Sure thing.”
He showed his nephew how to hit the spoke just right—not too hard and yet firm enough to drive it into place in the rim. “There. That’s one wagon wheel repaired.”
“Jamie, it’s time to take your bath. I’ve got your wash water ready.”
“Aw, Ma, I’m bein’ a help.”
“Yes, you are, but your uncle Seth is done.”
“Go take your bath, Jamie. I’m done and heading in myself.” He snapped the box closed. “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome.”
The boy stood, small for his age. He had to be the littlest boy in his class in town, Seth figured. A sick child Jimmy McIntyre hadn’t wanted to be responsible for.
Some men were fools.
He grabbed his tools and carried them to the back of the barn, head pounding.
“Seth?”
He hoisted the box into place on the back shelf and kept his back to her. He didn’t want her to see how upset he was.
“Do you think we’ll get a good price if I want to sell the hay?”
“I don’t know, Ginny. I figured I’d worry about that when I knew how much extra hay I had to sell.”
“You didn’t see my father-in-law like I hoped you would, did you?”
He heard the faintly accusing tone and closed his eyes. Tension knotted his muscles. “No, I took Linnea for a buggy ride. But you knew that, didn’t you? I didn’t know gossip traveled so fast.”
“You drove around with her in your buggy. People noticed.”
“They should mind their own business. Just like you should.”
“You are my business.”
“Then you should be damn glad that I’ve found someone who makes me feel again.” He pushed past her, anger growing with each step. “Not a word against her, Ginny.”
“Fine.” Her reply came tight-lipped and rang of censure. “Then at least let me ask you about the land. Do you think you can convince my father-in-law to deed it over to me?”
“I won’t have time to find out until after the haying. You’ll have to wait.”
“A few weeks? Fine.” She breathed her disapproval. “Whatever you think is right.”
“Linnea offered to help you with the cooking come Friday.”
“I don’t need her help.”
“That’s what I figured you’d say. Remember, twenty men will be at your kitchen door as hungry as oxen.”
Ginny paled, but her chin went up a notch. “I can handle the cooking. I helped your ma when I was little and the threshers came.”
“Good. I can count on you?”
She nodded but refused to meet his gaze. “I’d better go check on Jamie’s bath.”
He nodded, watching her go, wondering if she had any idea what she was doing with her anger. Wasting precious time with her child. He wanted to shake her, but he doubted it would do a lick of good.
Some lessons in life had to be learned the hard way.
The ache in his heart seemed cavernous. He sat in the glow of a flickering lamp deep into the night, staring at the small tintype of his family. Studying with sweet painful memory each detail of his wife’s face, of his son’s and tiny daughter’s. How proud he looked seated with them, Angelina on his lap, his arm around his gentle wife.
He would always miss them. But one day soon, the loneliness would end. He would have the chance to have a family again. And he would cherish every moment, every day.
* * *
“Mama, are you sleeping?” Linnea whispered. Lamplight tossed a dark glow across the page of her book and the corner of the bed.
No answer. Linnea closed the Dickens novel and set it on the night table. Her mother didn’t move, her gray locks fanning the embroidered pillow slip, her pretty face relaxed. She was so frail she hardly appeared to breathe.
Linnea smoothed the sheet and stood. The bed ropes squeaked and the feather tick shifted. Warm air puffed in through the open window, fluttering the ruffled curtains.
Love warmed her heart and she bent to brush Mama’s papery cheek. The older woman didn’t stir, lost in dreams, and so she turned out the light and left the room.
The house was silent, the perfect time for dreaming. She lifted the kitten from the cushion of her rocking chair. The calico purred, and the only other sound in the room was the wall clock ticking the seconds by, measuring time.
She didn’t feel much like working. Her sewing lay in a stack on the bookcase, pieced squares for the new quilt Mrs. Jance had commissioned. She didn’t feel like reading, either. Too many thoughts raced through her mind—and too many worries.
Seth was courting her. In spite of her past. In spite of what others said about her.
It felt too good to be true. But the sewing gifts he’d given her were right there in her sewing box. The golden crown of a thimble reflected the lamplight.
She remembered Seth’s kiss. A deep happiness filled her, a feeling that softened the shadows in the room and drove the loneliness from the night.
Chapter Eleven
Linnea skidded to a halt in front of Mrs. Jance’s sewing shop. That was her quilt. Sunlight glinted on the glass panes caressing her Double Irish Chain made of pinks and greens. A simple pattern, but it looked almost elegant next to the veiled straw hat and a pearl-beaded summer dress.
She couldn’t believe her good fortune. Her neck ached from sewing into the late hours of the night, but it was worth it. Her luck had changed.
Feeling a little more confident, she turned the brass door handle and stepped inside. The bell above her chimed and the women sipping tea at the pattern book table turned to stare at her.
Let them think what they wished. She wasn’t going to let them affect her. Not on such a beautiful summer’s day when her past no longer branded her. Seth was courting her and that knowledge gave her strength. She smiled at the women, recognizing Ginny McIntyre among them, and headed to the back counter.
“Linnea.” Mrs. Jance’s greeting rang warm and sincere as she stepped out of the back room, a silvered tray filled with china cups and plates of sliced cake. “Let me serve my customers and I’ll be right with you. Oh good, you finished the quilt!”
Linnea laid the heavy wrapped bundle on the sparkling glass countertop and couldn’t resist inspecting the new shipment of threads. She rubbed her thumb across silk-woven strands. What fine quality.
“I’ll give you a discount on anything you decide to purchase for yourself. Or your wonderful mother.” Ellie returned and reached for the paper-wrapped bundle. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve done. The doctor’s wife bought your quilt in the window, but she’s letting me leave it on display.”
“The doctor’s wife bought my quilt?”
“She said it reminded her of the very quilt her grandmother patched for her, but it was lost on the trip from the East.” Ellie pushed away the paper and gasped when she saw the alternating blocks of appliquéd summer flowers and white squares of stitched hearts. “Perfect. I know just the lady who will buy this. How did you complete it so quickly?”
“I stitched on it every chance I got.”
“I haven’t seen better. You didn’t trace this, did you? This is a true art, Linnea. Have your pick of the place, anything you want. I have to admit I’m g
reedy for another. Take your time and browse. I’ll get your money and bring you a slice of cake. Be right back.”
It was better than Christmas. Hundreds of colors of embroidery floss vied for her attention on the display rack. How was she going to choose? First she would pick gifts for Mama. Then she would decide on the colors she needed for her next project.
In the middle of choosing a pretty fine thread for Mother, Linnea heard footsteps across the polished wood floor, drawing closer. Ginny McIntyre.
“It’s a shame when a woman has to work.” Ginny eased next to the rack and ran her gloved fingertips over the fanciful threads. “I may have fallen upon hard times, but I haven’t become a common laborer.”
“Good for you, Ginny.” Linnea’s hand shook as she tugged tiny skeins of gold floss from the stand.
“A woman in your circumstances with an old mother to feed tends to make eligible men shy away. What man wants to support a mother-in-law? Add that to the child you bore out of wedlock and no decent man is going to come within ten miles of you.”
“This is about Seth. I’m not going to talk about him with you.” Linnea began piling spooled white thread into her basket.
Ginny moved closer. “I know you’re desperate to get yourself a man to support you. But not my brother. He’s lonely and, as men tend to do, he’ll reach for the comfort of any woman willing to satisfy him.”
“You must not think very highly of your brother if you think him capable of that.”
“It’s you I don’t think highly of. I know my mother-in-law is no longer buying shirts from you, and a woman with no morals has to earn her rent money some way—”
“I’m not doing anything wrong and you know it.” Linnea said it loudly enough that the women at the counter, straining to hear, could get it straight when they began gossiping. “The only reason you care is that you need him to support you.”
“Damn right I do. I want you to stay away from him.”
Linnea’s jaw dropped at Ginny’s curse and her venom. “I never wanted to come between you and your brother. Courting me is his decision.”
“If that’s what you call it.” She looked docile and frail, but she was nothing of the sort. “Be careful, Linnea, or I’ll raise the rent on your pathetic little house so high you’ll have to move out. And good riddance it would be.”
“Seth wouldn’t let that happen.”
“Seth doesn’t know the truth about you, Linnea.” Ginny’s gaze narrowed, not caring that her voice traveled the length of the shop, where her friends listened on the edges of their seats. “He doesn’t know about the baby you bore without a ring on your finger. To a man who was planning to marry me.”
“Jimmy had broken things off with you, Ginny, and you know it. And of course Seth knows. I can’t imagine you haven’t told him—”
“He won’t hear a word against you, but that will change. My brother knows what decency is. Mark my words, he’ll not come courting you again.”
Visibly shaking, Ginny marched away, hands fisted, greeted with assenting voices from her friends.
“Ginny, I’m shocked at you. In a place of business!” Ellie Jance marched into the room, a package under one arm. Her face was flushed and her usually well-styled bangs mussed. She’d clearly come in from outside. “I cannot hear another unkind word in my shop. Please leave if you can’t respect my wishes.”
“Fine.” Ginny grabbed her reticule from the small table. “I’m not planning on shopping here again.”
Ellie set a small tray on the counter near Linnea. “Are you all right? I can’t help but think the woman is desperate.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Linnea couldn’t stop trembling. She felt as if the floor at her feet was bucking and spinning. Her vision blurred and she fought to sound calm, as if Ginny’s words hadn’t obliterated her. “I’ll take ten yards of the cream calico.”
“This right here? It’s lovely.” Ellie hurried to comply. She tugged the bulky bolt from the shelf and unrolled it with heavy thumps on her measuring counter. “What else? Did you want to give me your order and take the cake and tea into my office? It will be a quiet place to sit and recover, if you’d like.”
“Yes, thank you.” Linnea blushed, not knowing why Ellie’s kindness hurt the way it did. She rattled off her fabric order, enough for her next quilt even though she feared the seamstress would cancel their arrangement. Without thinking, she requested a few extra lengths of fabric and new silken thread for her mother.
She grabbed the small tray and fled to the back room, where the cozy office sat in the corner, windows and curtains drawn against the relentless summer sun. It was hot, but it was private, and she collapsed into the chair. Her mind reeled with Ginny’s words. Seth doesn’t know the truth about you.
How could it be? He’d said he didn’t care about rumors or gossip. Maybe that was true. Maybe he’d had too much integrity to listen to what everyone was saying. She still couldn’t believe it. It can’t be true. How can he not know? Everyone knew, or thought they knew, what happened. Just as they’d gossiped anytime she was seen within six yards of a man.
Her head pounded and the tea didn’t soothe it. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She still had the mail to check and grocery shopping to do for the meal she’d promised Seth and the hayers.
Ginny was lying, that was all. Trying to scare her away. She was a desperate, hurting woman and she was afraid of Seth abandoning her, too.
Ellie rapped her fingers on the door. “Linnea, I have your order ready. I’ll leave it behind the counter. Help yourself to it when you’re ready to leave. You sit there as long as you need.”
There was no point in putting off what had to be done. The doubt Ginny placed in her mind made the trip to McIntyre’s more formidable.
She went to gather her purchases and left the shop.
* * *
“I’ll put your order in for delivery right away,” Shannon promised at McIntyre’s front counter. “I imagine with an order this size you’re cooking for hayers.”
“Yes, thank you.” Linnea was grateful for the thoughtful treatment as she gathered her change from the counter. She was even more thankful for the bell jangling overhead signaling she was finally on her way home.
With the sun blazing down on her and her packages already heavy, she headed down the busy boardwalk to the edge of town. Few people were walking in the heat, and it was another thing to appreciate.
Never had she been so glad to leave civilization behind as she followed the road heading out through the ripening fields, where dust swirled at her feet.
The sound of a horse and wagon rattled above the lark song and the plaintive winds. Linnea cringed, her stomach twisting tight. It had to be Ginny. That was the kind of luck she was having today.
Hugging her packages tightly, she stepped off the dusty road and onto the uneven shoulder where grass caught at her skirts. She walked faster and stared hard at the ground in front of her.
If Ginny says anything, I’m going to ignore it. She refused to let a bitter woman ruin another minute of this beautiful day.
A team of bays drew even with her—not Ginny’s pretty mare. It was Hansson’s team, but she knew the men were in the fields working today. Like sharp blades to her back, she could feel the scorn from whomever it was sitting on the wagon seat.
She didn’t turn her head. She kept walking, clutching her packages tightly, keeping her gaze on the road in front of her. Go on by, she silently pleaded.
The horses pulled ahead of her, then slowed. The big wagon wheels kicked up dust at her shoulder. She could make out a dirt-caked pair of boots and denims. The Hansson boys.
She walked faster.
The wagon remained at her side.
“Hear you like to go drivin’.” One of the teenaged boys taunted her, dipping his voice in a suggestive way. “I like to go drivin’, too.”
“Oscar,” his brother scolded. “Leave the lady alone.”
“She’s no lady.” Oscar
nosed the horses in front of her, trapping her between the fence and the front wagon wheels. “How much is the major payin’ you? Hear she sews for him. Sews. If that’s what you want to call it, then I got me a rip in my denims I’ll let you—”
“No.” She felt trapped. The horses were sidestepping in their traces so she couldn’t risk squeezing past them and the fence posts. She spun around and tried to run.
Oscar Hansson swung from the wagon seat and blocked her path. He was tall and wide. There was no mistaking the strength in his arms as he faced her with his beefy hands fisted on his hips.
She was trapped. The barbed wire fencing was impossible to climb over quickly. “Please, stand aside and let me go.”
“How much do you charge? I hear you come cheap, which is damn lucky because I don’t got much. Six bits? How about a whole dollar.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a shining silver coin.
“Let me go.” Panic made her chest tight and she fought for air. “My mother is expecting me soon—”
“That old hag? She can wait a few minutes while her daughter earns a little rent money.” He flicked the coin through the air and it thunked against her chin.
Pain scored across her bone and she jumped back. The coin fell into the dust, and her spine slammed against the wooden wagon box.
“Hey, Oscar, you’re scarin’ her. Get back in the wagon. Pa sent us to town for a new mower bit. He told us to hurry.”
“Stay out of this, Bo. Unless you want to come down here and help me. She ain’t as cooperative as the whores in town, but then she’s a whole hell of a lot prettier.”
She could taste fear in her mouth, hear it in her shallow breath, feel her body grow numb and wooden. He came at her, malice glittering in his narrow eyes. He tore the package out of her arms. The beautiful fabrics, flosses and threads tumbled to the dust. He marched over them, grinding the finery deeper into the dirt.
She stared in shock at the beautiful things at her feet and at the mocking amusement in the grin he flashed her. He was playing with her, that was all, and humiliation swept over her.