Trudy

by Debra Holland

  She twisted in the seat to see the Carters’ wagon, with Mr. Carter driving the double team and Nick riding alongside talking to Mrs. Carter. Behind them, the Camerons drove a surrey, then Jasper…she couldn’t remember his last name…Jasper’s wagon, with Slim riding right next to it, and the Nortons in their buggy. Quite a procession. And all for her—a perfect stranger.

  Stifling a giggle, she turned back around. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience of having all my possessions descend on you like this, Seth. I didn’t think about what would happen when I arrived here with so much.”

  Seth gathered up the reins in one hand and reached over to take her hand and squeeze.

  At his touch, a strange warmth ran through her.

  “I’m not denying you gave me quite a shock, but things seem to be falling into place. However, I must say again, we’ll have to store at least half, probably more, in the barn.” He gave her a rueful glance. “The house just isn’t big enough.” He released her and took the reins in both hands.

  The thought of such a small house…of her things left in the barn…dismayed her. The warmth in her body seeped away.

  “I’d planned to add on down the road…if we’re blessed enough to have babies...”

  Babies meant marital intimacy. Trudy flushed. “Can we build on the house before then…soon?”

  “I’d love to, Mrs. Flanigan, but there’s a small problem of time and money. I’m not saying I can’t afford another room, but with paying for your bride fee, stocking up the larder, renting the horses…why that’s used up some of my savings. I like to keep some put aside for a rainy day. With a farm…you have to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.”

  Should I reveal that I’ve brought money?

  “I usually have a hired man. He doesn’t live on the place year around. Has a family…children. Stays with me during planting and harvesting and other labor-intensive times like when we brand the calves. But his wife is ill, and he’s needed at home. Bad timing because I still need to get the alfalfa planted, although the corn and oats are in.” He slanted a glance at her. “I grow crops to feed the cattle, rather than just letting them graze on the range. Makes for more meat on their bones. Earns more when I sell them.”

  “Do you have a garden?”

  “Not planted yet, aside from what’s growing from last year. I’m behind on that. I’ve dug it up for you, though.”

  She ventured to touch his arm. “Thank you for doing that. I’ve brought seeds with me.”

  “They should be set out as soon as possible.” Seth glanced at the sun. “We have a shorter growing season than you’re used to in St. Louis.”

  “Then I’ll get right on the planting.”

  They’d left the final house in Sweetwater Springs and drove through a forest. The tree stumps on the edge showed the townsfolk must come here for lumber and firewood. The canopy of branches overhead blocked out much of the sky. After a few minutes of travel, she saw a path leading off to the right.

  Seth lifted his chin in that direction. “Chappie Henderson lives thataway. He’s an irascible hermit, but he and I get on all right.”

  “Where are the closest families?”

  “That would be the Klems on the other side of Chappie a ways. They have a baby, a boy as I recall. They stick close to home. I seldom see them.”

  “How often do you see Chappie?”

  “Whenever one of us, usually me, has a new book. I met him as a lad, not long after we’d moved out here. He was sitting under a tree reading. I’d never seen a grown man do that. I thought reading was just for school. Aside from a Bible, my stepfather didn’t have a book to his name. I mustered the courage to approach and ask about his book. Aesop’s Fables it was. Never heard of them. But Chappie grunted at me. But I think he was appalled at my ignorance, and read me one out loud.” He grinned at Trudy. “I was hooked better than a trout on a line. Ended up reading through his whole library.”

  “How many books?” asked Trudy, intrigued by the story.

  He shot her an amused look. “Fifteen. I know because we both read them over and over. One of the pleasures of being an adult with my own means has been indulging myself with a new book now and then. I read the volume first, then take the book over to Chappie. When he’s in town, the man can’t string two words together. But we sure have ourselves some mighty fine discussions about what we’ve read.”

  With a happy feeling, Trudy thought of the gift she’d bought for Seth. I’ll give it to him tonight. “In one of my many crates, I have a box full of books. I brought my own, of course, but my father culled his library of the volumes Minerva, that’s his new wife, also possessed. He sent them along with me.”

  Seth’s eyes lit up. “Reverend Norton mentioned something in the ceremony today about the price of a good wife being above rubies… Forget the rubies. I’ll take books over jewels any day.”

  Trudy laughed, liking her husband the more they talked. “That’s because you’re not a woman. We tend to be very fond of pretty stones.” She extended her hand to watch the light flash on the garnet in her ring. “But I’m happy with garnets and books.”

  He glanced sideways. “That’s good. Doubt I’ll ever be able to afford rubies, and I wouldn’t want you hankering after something I couldn’t provide.”

  But will you provide love? Trudy could see that she might start to hanker after a closer connection with this man and warned herself to be careful, hold back her heart until she knew him better.

  The conversation took them through the swath of trees to emerge into grasslands, broken only by a track leading toward the mountains. Unlike the disappointing town, the beauty of the rising peaks filled her with wonder. The snowcapped, blue-gray mountains with green-velvet forests covering the sides jutted into an arching sky of such a beautiful blue it made her heart ache to look into the heavens.

  Because of her tight corset and bustle, she couldn’t relax and lean against the wooden back of the wagon. Although she was accustomed to wearing them, somehow a hard wooden bench, even with the blanket for padding, in a wagon jolting over a dirt track, was far more uncomfortable than a wooden seat on a trolley or the padded cushions of a carriage rattling over the stone paved-streets of St. Louis.

  I’m Mrs. Seth Flanigan now. Trudy turned her hand this way and that, admiring her wedding ring.

  Seth saw the gesture. An uncomfortable look crossed his face. “Do you like the ring?”

  Fingers spread, she held her hand out in front of her. “I love it. The stone perfectly matches my mother’s jewelry.” She touched her necklace. “My father gave me her garnet necklace and earrings before I left. You couldn’t have chosen a more perfect ring.”

  He looked relieved and settled back against the seat. “You wrote that you have two sisters whom you raised after your mother died?”

  “Yes.” Sadness rose and lodged in her throat. Her sisters should have been present at her wedding today. Will I ever see them again? Needing to share with Seth about her family, Trudy started talking. She described her sisters and their husbands, her father and Minerva. Although she had an occasional catch of sadness, she shared laughter with Seth—especially after the tale of a bare-naked three-year-old Anna chasing a chicken down the street, their mortified mother in pursuit. She even mentioned her good friend, Evie, although she didn’t say how they came to be friends.

  Seth proved to be a good audience. From time to time, he nodded to show he was listening or gave her a quick glance.

  Trees appeared on the horizon, growing in an undulating feathered line. When they drove closer, she could see most were cottonwoods, but there were also some evergreens and a few maples.

  “Is Mr. McCurdy’s home nearby?”

  Seth frowned. “No. Not even in sight.” He pointed—over that way. “We have some forest between us.” He fell silent.

  Trudy cast an anxious glance at his profile. Somehow, she sensed he’d withdrawn and didn’t know if she’d displeased him.

  Seth gath
ered both reins in one hand. He pointed ahead. “My land…our land begins at the stream.”

  I guess he’s fine, after all. Trudy turned her attention back to the land.

  Having seen from the train how empty the prairie could look, Trudy was glad to view the trees. Some of the homes she’d watched flash by had looked so desolate—not the kind of area she’d want to live in.

  Trudy gave a little bounce of excitement. She couldn’t wait to see her new home. “Not as far as I thought we’d be from Sweetwater Springs. That’s good. But—” she looked at the grass they drove over. “There’s no road? Don’t you go into town much?” She couldn’t help feeling worried at being confined on the farm.

  “I’ve just finished building a bridge so you wouldn’t have to go out of your way to use the ford. Otherwise, you’d have to drive an extra four miles when you went to town.” He glanced at the caravan behind them. “By the end of today, the track should have a good start.”

  Warmth swirled in her heart. “You did that for me?”

  He glanced at her, his gray eyes amused. “I did that for you, Mrs. Flanigan.”

  “Oh, Seth!” Trudy could feel herself glow at the gift. His thoughtful gesture—far more than a gesture, actually, because building a bridge must have taken a lot of work—made her feel cherished…like a real wife. “Thank you.”

  The corners of Seth’s mouth twitched, as if he was trying not to show his pleasure at her praise.

  They crossed the plank bridge, and Trudy loved the sound of the clear water rushing over the stony creek. As soon as time permitted, she promised herself a nice walk under the trees and along the stream.

  They emerged from the trees, and she saw the open vista of grassland stretching to the mountains, the house and barn in the distance, brown plowed fields, and cattle grazing on the grass, all under the azure sky. Her heart lifted as if on wings.

  But as they drew closer, her initial optimism started to drain away.

  She couldn’t see any trees or bushes around the squared-off log house or big weathered barn. A shoulder-high wooden fence protected a garden behind the house. The hard-packed dirt showed no sign of grass. No flowers bloomed near the front steps. The house and front porch looked almost as weathered as the barn, although traces of the original whitewash showed here and there. A few feet away from the front steps was a long trough and a pump.

  Trudy bit her lip to hold in a sigh. Her apprehension grew and twisted into a knot in her stomach.

  Seth glanced at her. “The place needs some work, I know.”

  Some! She pasted on a smile, not wanting him to see her dismay.

  Seth drew up the team in front of the house and set the brake.

  A dog uncurled from a sunny patch on the porch, lumbered to its feet, and shook itself, floppy ears flying. With some wags of a tail that almost unbalanced the thin body, the hound tottered down the steps and over to them.

  “That’s Henry. He’s a good ole feller. Kept me company for many a year.” Seth climbed down from the wagon and went around the side to help her.

  His hands slid around her waist, once again causing tingles to cascade through her. Trudy set her hands on the tops of his shoulders and hopped off. He gave her a little swing, which had her stomach dipping. Once on solid ground, she stooped and extended her hand for Henry to sniff, then patted his head.

  “Sit, Henry,” Seth commanded.

  Trudy could almost see the old dog’s joints creak as he gingerly lowered his hind end to the ground.

  Seth patted the dog’s head. “This is your new mistress.”

  The dog’s tail thumped the ground.

  With a slowing of hoof beats, the Carters pulled up next to them.

  The rest of the cavalcade soon joined them. Everyone dismounted or climbed down from their vehicles, walking over to Trudy and Seth.

  “Please come in,” Trudy invited the ladies, hoping the inside of the house looked more presentable than the outside, but doubting it did. “Although I cannot say what we will find.”

  “Well now,” Seth protested and added a wink. “I cleaned up today.”

  Mary Norton shook her head. “The way a man cleans up is much different than the way a woman cleans up,” she admonished him.

  The women laughed.

  “So true,” sighed Mrs. Cameron. “If I let him, the doctor would have our home as jumbled as the insides of his pockets.” She said the words in a teasing tone with a fond glance at her husband, who grinned, thrust his hands into said pockets, and rocked back on his heels.

  Seth made a circling motion with his arm to indicate the whole place. “I worked hard today to give the impression of neatness. So I’ll thank you, ladies, not to disillusion my wife too soon.” He ended the movement with a half wave to Trudy. “This is where a wise man beats a retreat,” he quipped and strode to the back of the wagon.

  “It’s too late,” Trudy called after him. “I’ve kept house for my father for the last five years. I’m already disillusioned.”

  Seth didn’t turn, but she could see by the movement of his shoulders that she’d made him laugh.

  Mrs. Norton patted Trudy’s arm. “Don’t you worry, my dear Mrs. Flanigan,” she said with an earnest tone. “We won’t hold you accountable for how the house looks.”

  Mrs. Carter swatted at the fly buzzing around her face. “Until our next visit.”

  As Trudy laughed, she realized the knot in her stomach had loosened. She still wasn’t happy about the state of Seth’s farm, but she liked her new husband and her blossoming friendships. And when it comes down to it, that’s what’s important. The circumstances of her home could change…would change. I’ll make sure of that!

  She trotted up the stairs, opened the door, and stepped inside. As she surveyed the interior, her heart sank. The spare open space, a combined living room, kitchen, and dining room, wasn’t much larger than the parlor of her father’s house, and could certainly squeeze into the double parlor of Mrs. Seymour’s Victorian.

  The women crowded in behind her. “Oh, this is nice,” exclaimed Mary Norton. “Plenty of space.”

  Trudy exchanged glances with the other two women. Although she hadn’t visited their homes, she could tell by the quality of their dresses that they probably had far more affluent circumstances than the minister’s wife. But seeing the room through Mrs. Norton’s eyes helped give Trudy some perspective. The Nortons whole home could probably fit into this room. The couple must often wish they had a roomier parsonage.

  A table with three sturdy chairs took up most of the right side. The kitchen area had a black stove and a worktable. Open shelves held supplies, some cookware, and dishes.

  A single scuffed leather chair sagged in front of the fireplace on the other side of the room. A worn rag rug of faded blues and greens softened the floor, and a ladder next to the far wall climbed to a loft that jutted halfway across the area. A hat rack made of antlers stood near the door, with a straw hat drooping forlornly on one spike and a knitted brown scarf dangling from another.

  With dismay, Trudy realized there was no indoor plumbing. While she’d tried to prepare herself for a small, plain house, the possible lack of indoor plumbing hadn’t occurred to her. She held in a groan, thinking about the extra work hauling water would entail. Not to mention having to go outside to use the outhouse when necessary. They’d had an outdoor pump and privy when she was a small child, but for many years her family had possessed the luxury of indoor plumbing.

  Mrs. Carter pushed back some of the tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun. “At least everything’s clean. Someday, Mrs. Bauer, I’ll have to tell you about my arrival from Boston, newly married, to take up life in a ranch house…one full of cowboys, mind you…that hadn’t seen the hand of a woman for many years.” She gave a dramatic shudder. “I had to make order out of the house and the men. Quite a formidable task!”

  The women laughed.

  Henry ambled over to the rug and, with a groan, settled his old bones in an obviou
sly favorite spot.

  Trudy moved across the room, glanced out the back window, and saw the mountains rising majestically in the distance. Too bad the house isn’t situated with the porch facing this direction.

  Mrs. Carter pointed to an opening on the right. “The bedroom must be over there.

  Trudy crossed the room, her footsteps clicking on the scuffed wooden floor, to open the door and peek in. The bedroom looked like Mrs. Norton’s, although, thank goodness, the space was bigger. She stepped through the doorway and walked to the other side so the ladies could fit in.

  A window cast sunlight over the bed, made up with a faded patchwork quilt. A washstand and a small chest of drawers were the only furniture. Men’s clothing hung from pegs on the far wall.

  Her wardrobe and bureau would fit, although they’d crowd the space. Once she switched out Seth’s bed for her nicer one and added her furniture, maybe painted or put up wallpaper, some pictures…

  Mrs. Cameron pursed her lips. “It has possibilities.”

  Trudy gave a decisive nod. “I think so too.”

  Mrs. Norton clasped her hands together. “Mrs. Flanigan, I think you’ll be very happy in your new home.”

  Looking at the woman’s pleasant expression, Trudy couldn’t help but feel optimistic. “I do hope you’re right, Mrs. Norton.” She gestured at the door. “Now, perhaps you ladies can help me explore the kitchen and put a meal together for our hard-working men!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Seth had barely any time with his bride. In between trying to direct the unloading, making decisions about whether to send crates into the house or the barn—thank goodness, Trudy had neatly labeled every box with black painted letters—and making space in the barn, he caught nary a sight of his wife.

  This was as unlike the homecoming he’d planned for Trudy as could be. Seth had imagined taking his bride by the hand, showing her around, explaining why things looked the way they did, and what he intended to fix and change. In reality, he’d only had time to escort her to the house. Between hauling the crates everywhere, he worried about what she thought of his home and how she might fare in the clutches of the other women.