by Dinah McLeod
Her plans made, she leapt out of bed with a purposeful vigor—she had to catch her dad before he left for the store! She could walk, if it came to it, but she’d be more likely to convince him to take her if he hadn’t started his day yet.
She dressed faster than she could ever remember doing and skidded out the house, thankful that she had somehow managed to evade her mother. If she’d been caught trying to rush out, she would have been subjected to a million questions and by the time she was through, her father would be long gone.
“Pa!” she called, out of breath as she raced to his buggy.
“Libby? What on earth is the matter?”
“N-nothing,” she panted. “I was just hoping…”
“Calm down, girl. Catch your breath.”
Gratefully, she took a few moments to do just that before she resumed. “I was hoping you’d give me a ride.”
“Is that so? Where to, now?”
“The Swifts’.”
He gave her a long, searching look before he nodded. “Alright.” He offered her a hand, which she took, and hoisted her up. “If the young Swift boy is expecting you, it’d be proper for him to—”
“No, no. He doesn’t know I’m coming.”
Her pa arched a brow but didn’t comment. He waited until she was settled then cracked the whip, urging the horses forward.
“You’re seeing a lot of him lately.”
“Yes, sir. I didn’t think you’d disapprove, considering.”
“I just want what’s best for you. I want you to be happy. If Wesley Swift is going to make you happy, then fine. If not…”
She spontaneously reached over and grasped his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before letting him go. They weren’t real affectionate in her family, but she couldn’t help herself. “I only wish Mama felt that way.”
“Your ma… she wants you to be happy, too.”
Libby snorted before she could contain herself. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, well…” He cut his eyes at her. “Maybe you oughtn’t mention that I dropped you off. Just in case.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Heaven help them both if her mother heard that, for all the disinterest she’d had in any of the suitors that her mother had tried to push on her, she was now actively seeking to spend time with the one her father had arranged.
When they pulled up to the house, her father dismounted and helped her climb out. “You’ll be chaperoned, now?”
“His mother is here.”
“That’s good to hear. Will he see you home, or should I send someone to collect you?”
“I’m sure he’ll take me home, Pa.”
“Alright then. You behave yourself, now.”
Libby waved him goodbye and then eagerly walked to the door, smiling to herself as she knocked and waited. Her smile began to fade, however, when the door opened and Maggie Swift was on the other side of it.
But the other girl showed no such reservations. “Libby! When we heard the horses, I told Ma I reckoned that would be you! Come on in!”
Surprised by the other girl’s warmth, she hesitated for a moment before walking in the space that Maggie had made her for.
“Mama couldn’t stop talking about how much she enjoyed your visit the other day,” she continued. “We saved you some pie.”
“Oh. That was… ah, that was thoughtful.” She was so caught off guard by the easy display of friendliness that she felt a bit on edge. She didn’t know quite what to make of it.
“I’m sure you’re here to see Wesley, but he’s in the fields. I can ride out to get him, if you’d like? Or we can heat up that pie and have it with our Arbuckle. What do you say? I know Mama’d be glad to visit with you for a spell.”
Libby looked the eldest Swift over with a shrewd eye. But no matter how hard she peered, she didn’t see a crack in the smile or a hint of rancor in her dark eyes. “Well… alright. That sounds nice, actually.”
“Wonderful! You have a seat at the table and I’ll get the pie on the stove and fetch Mama.”
She did as Maggie instructed, enviously watching as the girl bustled around the kitchen. She clearly knew her way around and had no doubt been taught well by her mother. Once again she found herself coveting the upbringing of the Swift children. Though she still remained apprehensive, after the three of them sat down with their cups and plates of pie, she found herself relaxing. The elder Swift woman had quite the bond with her daughter; that much was clear as the two engaged in back-and-forth banter that left Libby smiling at the pair of them. But they didn’t leave her out, either. To her surprise, Maggie was the first to include her.
“Mama tells me this was your first pie,” she said as she forked a bite into her mouth.
“That’s true. My first attempt at cooking, actually,” she admitted with a wince. What must the girl think of her now! High and mighty Libby, too good to get her hands dirty!
But Maggie just smiled. “Well, then you must have a knack for it.”
As the time passed, she found that she didn’t feel uncomfortable at all and instead found herself enjoying their company.
“We have a few slices left,” Mrs. Swift said. “Maybe you’d like to take some home to your ma, Libby?”
“Oh, no, thank you, ma’am,” she was quick to decline. “My mother doesn’t eat pie.” That much, thankfully, was true. The other half of it was that she didn’t want her mother to have any idea where she’d spent her afternoon. Not that her mother normally cared, but she had a feeling that that would suddenly change when she learned that Libby had indeed developed a fondness for the one suitor she couldn’t stand. How was it, she couldn’t help but wonder, that Wesley’s family could be so open and relaxed when her own was so closed minded?
Before she even thought to ask Maggie about going after Wesley, he was coming in for the afternoon meal, his brother Trent trailing close behind. When she turned her head and saw him, even though his face was covered with a fine layer of sweat and dirt, she thought him incredibly handsome. It probably had something to do with the way his face lit up when he saw her.
“Libby? I’m sorry, did I mix up my days? Was I supposed to fetch you?”
“No.” She gave him a small, private smile. “I… I asked my father to bring me. I hope that’s all right.”
“It certainly is,” his mother asserted before he got a chance. “Now, maybe you boys would like to wash up before dinner.”
“Be right back,” Wesley called over his shoulder as he left.
“Well, he’s certainly sweet on you,” Maggie commented, her voice full of mischievous laughter.
Libby had been staring after him, but she turned to look at Maggie to see if the other girl was teasing her. “Oh, do you really think so?” She winced as she heard her own voice. It had come out too wistful for her own liking, too hopeful. She should know better, to keep her hope low and contained where none could see it, just in case.
But Mrs. Swift reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “There’s not a doubt in my mind. Don’t you worry none. Wesley is not the trifling sort. Once he makes up his mind, it’s made up. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Mama’s right,” Maggie added.
Libby let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It was funny—the more time she spent with him, with his wonderful family, the more she found herself picturing a future for herself. She’d stopped dreaming long ago, with the first line of suitors her mother had pushed at her. They were all vapid, boring men who would pull her into the same sort of life she already had, except that in this version she’d be the one sighing over picture frames the maid hadn’t cleaned to her satisfaction and it would be her own children she’d be finding fault with. It wasn’t a life she wanted for herself, no matter how attractive her mother tried to make it sound.
Yet, she’d never pictured this one, either. Perhaps it would be harder, as her mother feared, but did that really matter so much when she had a future full of love and lau
ghter? Almost without realizing it, she’d been looking for just that all her life.
Dinner was rather a festive affair. There was only ham, cornbread, and peas, yet they laughed and poked fun at one another as though it was a celebration instead of an everyday workday. Libby found herself joining in, and she couldn’t help but notice how Wesley smiled at her whenever she did.
After the meal had been eaten, she and Maggie helped clear the table.
“You go on, dear,” Mrs. Swift told her. “Maggie and I can manage here and Trent can do the chores well enough to give his brother an hour or so off.”
Maggie’s back was turned to her, so she couldn’t see what the Swift girl thought of this. She nodded after a moment and smiled her thanks before running to find her beau. She didn’t even stop long enough to wonder when she’d begun thinking of him that way. Somehow, it seemed natural and right that she should, so she didn’t worry about the rest.
“Wesley? Your ma said—”
“Would you like to go for a stroll?” he asked at the same time. They locked eyes and laughed together.
“Yes, please.”
“Alright then.” He offered her an arm. “Let’s make the most of it before I have to get back to work.”
“Take your time,” Trent called after them, laughter in his own voice. “The hay won’t go anywhere without you.”
“Thank God for that,” Wesley rejoined, winking at her as he opened the door.
* * *
He cut his eyes at Libby as she walked at his side. It was mighty strange, he often thought, that he’d found himself enjoying her company as much as he did. He hadn’t expected to like her much at all. He’d watched her through the years—a vain, silly slip of a woman. He now berated himself for being such a fool where she was concerned. He could see now that that was only the side of her that she chose to show people. And he suspected, based on what he’d seen of her home, to hide the pain she must feel. He didn’t know what pain, exactly, or who had caused it, but he could always see it there, lying just beneath her expression, whether it was a smile or a sneer.
He’d come to feel a deep sense of protectiveness toward her and he was bound and determined to get to the bottom of it and make sure that she never felt that way again. Not for the first time, he wished that his pa was still alive. If he were, he’d ask him if this was what it felt like, to love a woman.
“You seem to be gettin’ on well with my family,” he noted.
She gave him that shy sweep of eyelashes look she had that made his heart pound harder in his chest. “Seems like it.”
“You know, Libby, we’re spending a lot of time together here lately, but I still feel like I don’t know much about you.”
“What would you like to know?”
Everything. He wanted to know everything about her—what made her laugh, what made her cry. That way, he could make sure she always had a smile on her face. But he couldn’t say that. It felt distinctly unmanly.
“Tell me something you want.”
“A big family,” she surprised him by saying.
“Truly?”
“Oh, yes. I… I don’t really talk about it, but…” She gave a shrug of her shoulders. “I’ve always wanted a big family.”
“Me too.”
“You already have a big family!” she pointed out.
“True, and I see no reason not to keep the tradition alive.”
“You mean…”
“Lots of children,” he agreed.
“And when you say ‘lots’ how many exactly is that?”
“Oh, at least three, probably four.”
“I don’t suppose you plan on birthin’ any of those yourself, do you?”
He grinned at her. While he suspected Libby’s mouth would get her into trouble more often than not, he had to admit that he appreciated her quick wit. “It seems that my role in that is limited. Don’t blame me—that’s on Mother Nature.”
“I’ll try not to take it out on you. I mean, I hope your future wife doesn’t,” she hurried to add, almost as though she realized she’d said too much.
Wesley didn’t trouble to reply. He liked the fact that she was thinking of herself with him, of a future they might have together. His days were filled with hard, backbreaking work, but in the short amount of time they’d been courting, she’d come to fill the scant spare moments that he had. She was the first thing he thought of in the morning and the last image to fill his mind before he drifted off to sleep. He’d never thought of himself as a romantic man—he took after his pa in that manner. But it seemed that with the right woman, he had such notions aplenty.
“Do you like being a farmer?” she asked, changing the subject.
He couldn’t help but suspect that what she really wondered was whether she would like being a farmer’s wife. “It’s all I’ve ever done. I enjoy working with the land, I like seein’ my hard work on the table, feeding my family. Most of all, I love the animals.”
“I’ve never felt that passionate about anything in my life,” she remarked with a sigh, giving him an almost wistful look. “I don’t know how you manage.”
“Oh, some days when I’m so sore I can hardly stand it and the days are too short, I feel like I’d rather do anything than pick up another plow. But that’s life, I suppose. I wouldn’t change it,” he added, wanting to subtly let her know that if things progressed between them, he wouldn’t be switching jobs just to please her. “But if you tried, I bet you could find something you loved. Pie baking, maybe?” he teased.
“Hmm, I don’t know about that, though I can’t say I was disappointed with the results.”
“That makes two of us,” he agreed, rubbing his belly emphatically.
“It was mostly your mother.”
“Not to hear her tell it.” Then, before she could continue to protest her accomplishment, he reached for her hand. He could tell that she was startled by his touch, and for a moment he thought she might pull away. But then she relaxed, letting her hand slide easily into his. He was always amazed at how small and dainty her hands were. It reminded him of the doll his sister had had as a child and made his heart swell with a feeling kin to longing. More and more, he longed to make her his. It was true that he didn’t know as much about her as he’d like, but then, that was what marriage was for, wasn’t it? A lifetime to get to know one another? He cast his eyes in her direction, wondering if her thoughts were anything like his own, but not daring to ask.
“I don’t know about four children,” she said as though she felt his question without his having to voice it aloud.
“How many would you want then?”
“One.”
“One?” His face fell. He was surprised by how truly dismayed he was.
“Maybe two,” she said begrudgingly.
“That’s not nearly enough boys to take over at planting season.”
“That’s all your ma had,” she pointed out.
“Exactly, why do you think I want to double it? I know the pain all too well of too few hands during planting season.” He grimaced, making Libby giggle. They walked on in silence for a while after that. He was content to just enjoy the cool, summer day and the feel of her hand in his.
“Why have you never married, Wesley?”
He looked at her, surprised by the question. “I never found the right woman, I reckon. Why haven’t you?”
“I… I’ve no lack of suitors, I suppose.”
He nodded. Of that, he’d never had any doubt.
“There were some boys around here who tried… but my mother never let me entertain any of them,” she admitted. “Instead, she sent for distant cousins and sons of friends that she has back East. I met a few of them, but mostly, they wrote letters. Letters of intent.” She made a face that voiced her disdain. “I felt like a prize mare up for auction.”
“What’d you do?”
“Oh, I told my mother that I wouldn’t have it, of course.” She smiled ruefully at the memory. “And she told me
to fall in line, or else. So I did. I played the part of the dutiful daughter bent on making a good marriage, to please my mother.”
“And?”
“And, whether over post or face-to-face I was as bratty as I could possibly be to each and every one of those poor men. I kept it up until I’d scared all them away until there wasn’t hope that Mama would ever find me another potential suitor.”
“That was naughty,” he said, pretending to scold her.
She turned to him, her light blue eyes meeting his own. “I’m very good at scaring off gentleman callers.”
“Well, you don’t need to worry about that with me, darlin’.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I don’t scare easily.”
Libby dropped her eyes as her cheeks colored prettily. The sight made his heart clench in his chest.
“Libby? I’m curious, how could you take the risk? Weren’t you afraid your ma would find out what you did?”
“Oh.” She raised her eyes to meet his and he saw they were dancing mischievously. “These were proper gentlemen, you see. They would never admit to being scared off by a sassy tongue.”
Wesley thought this over, and then, realizing the brilliance of her plan, he threw back his head and laughed until she had no choice but to join in.
Chapter Three
“I can’t believe you’re even entertaining such a foolish notion!”
“I told you, Carol, it will be for Libby to decide.”
“She’s just a child! Children can’t truly understand how important these decisions are!”
“She is not a child, Carol. And you seemed perfectly happy with it a few days ago.”
“That was before, before I remembered that young people can make decisions that will affect their whole future. My own mother gave me counsel as to my marriage, and as you well know, I did as I pleased.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve never let me forget. Regardless, you will let Libby make her choice. Do I make myself plain?”
“I still can’t believe you let him turn her skirts up and you just stood there!” my mother hissed, her voice loud enough that it rang between the wall that separated us. “Why, if you’d only done something, our daughter wouldn’t be in this position!”