Of Needles and Haystacks

by Ann Elizabeth Fryer

  He tapped his fingers on the side table. She might court and marry anyone. He noticed plenty of other single men at church glancing her way. He unbuttoned his tight collar, choking at the thought.

  The farm was legally set to go to her husband. He thought of that possibility over and over. When he’d opened his pockets, he’d hoped to save the farm. Not give it away. But God’s plans...he sighed. He gave a gift—and should not claim ownership in any way. God’s money, God’s land. Dorothy’s love. His plan.

  Dorothy deserved the happiness of marriage. Who was he to stand in the way of that? He fought the dream. Tried so hard not to imagine her contentedly sitting in the other rocking chair in his study. He leaned back and prayed with his hands wide open.

  MAY 29, 1880

  I flipped through Mr. Birch’s sketchbook and found a small drawing of the house. I almost didn’t recognize it! In days past the windows had glass, the shutters were free of vines. Smoke slipped from the chimney. Or was that merely youth’s fancy? Wreathed in a design of twigs and maple leaves, it’s clear that he favored the cottage. And well knew the tree I’d lunched beneath. He’d received it as a wedding gift, but chose to live on Mother’s farm instead? Why? I searched the sketch book, inside and out for another rendition. Couldn’t find any, but shall treasure this one. I’ve propped the book open to glance upon as I plan.

  It’s strange to be glad Mr. Birch married Mother. This wedding gift had been unused and left untouched because Mother’s withdrawal from the community, as far as I knew. I’d ask Aunt more about it, if she’d see me—let me in—but I may have burned that bridge to the ground. Now this cottage waits for me. A gift for a past promise, opened in a new one.

  I wondered who could have torn out the rotting floors, and recalled Mr. Bleu thinking it still worth the saving. Did he do this work? For me? I need to ask him. And get his advice about able men who can restore it.

  My list grew this evening as I assessed every item I owned that might be put to some practical use in some way. The cottage needed a cook stove. A few cabinets for supplies, not to mention cast iron cookware. I’d given all of Mother’s practical things to the mission barrel at church. Had I known my future, I wouldn’t have been so generous!

  Even a table and chairs must be added if I am to keep house comfortably. Before any of these, the place needs to be made habitable. That meant hiring men, and a large pricey order from the store catalogue. I don’t have the money to do this, but I do own a farm. What if, what if...

  I spent a full hour in the presence of the great Mr. MacDonald. I feel as though I’ve grown wings and used them too! He is ready and willing to pay a good sum for twenty acres that align with his property. And as far as I can tell, this land is hardly touched by Uncle or Ernest. I daresay they’ll scarcely miss it. The cows aren’t allowed on that part of the land anyway—as it is unfenced and a little too far from the house. Mr. MacDonald seemed to be very excited about this possibility.

  We shook hands, the two of us will pay a visit to the lawyer and bank come Monday.

  MAY 31, 1880

  I now have an account at the bank with sufficient funds to restore the cottage and live on for quite a while.

  Mrs. MacDonald was not amused by my venture in the least. At first. Her voice raised and Mr. MacDonald’s muffled tones seeped through the study door I’d vacated. How dare he allow such an innocent young girl to be out on her own? Did he not realize that Chess desired to court me? How inappropriate his visits would be if I had not another soul living with me. A young single woman should never live alone. Must never live alone.

  Her tone worried me. But I was determined. I couldn’t be the daughter she wanted when my own mother still permeates my waking thoughts. I couldn’t be courted by Chess and have any hope of restoring my relationship with my cousins. And Helen...

  Chess drew me aside when we’d returned from town. “You can’t do this. What is my father thinking?”

  “You don’t think he should help me? Too late, I’m afraid.”

  “No.” He bent his face close to mine, I drew back. “I should be the one helping you.”

  “What have you to give?” A saucy comment, I wish I’d never said.

  His face reddened. He drew back, but still had hold of my hand. “I’m not sure why I should care about you, but I do. Can’t help it. You showed up and what can I say?” His lips quirked. “It’s Helen. You are being careful because of her, aren’t you?” His silly grin returned with hope.

  “I have to be.”

  “Supposing she wasn’t in the picture?”

  I shook my head. This was happening too quickly. “Please. Can you give me time? I’d like to get to know you. And I do need to preserve my friendship with Helen.” He let go of my hand. “Please be careful with her heart. Don’t embarrass her. I beg you.”

  The strain on his face lifted some. “I’d never do that. But I can’t say I’ve done anything to encourage the girl either.”

  “Doesn’t take much, sometimes.”

  “Doesn’t seem to take a lot for you.”

  I looked past him, to his mother standing elegantly by a Greek pillar. Did they think I might be desperate for marriage? Present a tempting conquest because of the land I own? What other answer can there be?

  “At least you’ll have twenty more acres and not have to put up with me.” I was exasperated, wanted to run away. “I’m sorry to disappoint you both. That was never my intention.”

  Mrs. MacDonald pulled me into a private parlor and sat me in a well-cushioned seat. “I think we need to chat.”

  I began first, anxious to get everything off my chest. “I wish I were drawn to your son, Mrs. MacDonald. He’s a good man. And you have been so good to me. Better than I deserve. I don’t understand why you want me around.”

  “I know how it feels to be alone. In every way.”

  Tears threatened. She really did care. Why did I have a hard time believing this to be true?

  “Do you know, when Chess saw you the first time—back when in snowed in March, just before the fruit trees blossomed—he said to me, ‘I’ve never met anyone like her. Dignified, yet capable. She’s meant for more than farm life.’”

  I had no words. She continued. “I was curious, and sent you the invitation to tea. You came, and I saw a reflection of myself. Young, grieving her folks. If you are not interested in my son, neither of us will push you, though I would find it delightful if he did come to grow on you. I wouldn’t be a mother if I didn’t.” She paused, lip quivering. “But let us help you anyway. You don’t have to live alone. I’m not sure why you don’t plan to return to your Aunt and Uncle’s, but if anything is the matter, we are here for you.”

  Her words were a balm. How much to tell her? “I want nothing more than to make my home with them. Uncle has an idea in his head that—I don’t know if I should tell you. He is angry with me, angry with Mr. Bleu...”

  Her eyes lit with interest.

  “Neither of us have done anything wrong. Please do not assume...” I was digging myself into a hole. My reputation hinged on my words. “Mr. Bleu was merely apprising me of some farm business. Uncle didn’t like it. Made wild assumptions about Mr. Bleu stealing his land. My land.”

  Mrs. MacDonald’s expression cleared with insight.

  Wish she’d let me in on the secret. “I can’t make sense of it.”

  “Hmm.” Her hands drew together in one fist.

  “No one wants me around. Except for Ernest. He’s the only one that cares, at least I believe he does.” I shrugged. “For the first time since my parents died, I know what I want and need to do.”

  She nodded, pensive. “You won’t reconsider? Stay here until peace is made?”

  She already knew my answer. To live under a constant weight of obligation...

  “I see. You need a good dose of quiet, I think.” She seemed to accept my plan. “Well then. If you insist on setting up housekeeping, we may as well see what’s in the attic. You’re not to ref
use me this.”

  She swept up her elegant self and smoothed her skirts. “Follow me.”

  She fetched two lanterns and we climbed a steep stairway hidden inside a deep closet I hadn’t known was there. Easy to get lost in this mansion.

  Light shone in a few small windows, dust motes swirled in the beam. This attic could be a ballroom.

  Sheet covered furnishings filled the space. I wondered what the built-in drawers were filled with—such treasures could be found here! I shrank from her lead.

  “Start uncovering. Take what you like.” Her tone commanded rather than pled.

  I lifted the corner of a sheet carefully and folded it back. A small round table, in a deep rosy brown stain.

  “This is perfect for that small cottage. Won’t take up too much room.” She set it aside, decision made.

  I was afraid to draw back another. Funny how fear can stop me from accepting a gift—things I need.

  She was already uncovering another piece. This time, a rather worn horsehair settee, like those used when Mother was young and skirts flared so wide. “Rather ugly. But if you want it, you can always cover it with a quilt. Or I can set Joe on it. He’s handy with upholstery.

  “I beg you not to add work to his busy schedule.”

  “Joe’s here on mercy. Plus, we can’t use him out in the fields.” She shrugged. “A man needs to stay busy.”

  “You have a bed, dresser, secretary, chair, myriad of trunks...bookshelf? Here. This one will suit.”

  A short shelf, but wide enough to hold my collection. I began to envision my space pulling together with a cozy air. “I thank you, this is quite enough!”

  “Nonsense. These things aren’t doing anyone any good.” She smiled. “Gives me a thrill to help set you up, never mind I’d rather you didn’t.” She walked over to those mysterious drawers. “Now for the essentials.”

  I’ve little need for the store catalogue now. Hidden in those drawers were kitchen things, much used cast iron—all the better for cooking with.

  How unexpected this outcome! Even Chess pitched in and carried all of the chosen things to the stable where the rest of my belongings wait for a new home. His expression belied relief.

  Had I been but a distraction?

  Chapter 26

  BETRAYAL. THE WORD carried a simple meaning, many implications. How could she? Why would she? James stood across from Mr. MacDonald with mounting confusion. “I’m not sure if I heard you correctly. You say Miss Trafton sold you twenty acres of her land?”

  “Yep. She sure did. Can’t say I’m not pleased.” His bearded grin rose higher “You know, the acreage was originally part of my family’s stake, back in the old frontier days. Finally finding its way home.”

  “Did she consult Hammond?” He rested his hands on the back of the chair. “Ask him if this would be agreeable?” He already knew the answer.

  “Can’t say that she did. Don’t worry, we’ll put it to good use, my sons and I.” He clapped a hand on James’ shoulder. “Don’t look as though I stole something, boy. You know that portion has lain fallow far too long, at least since the Birch tragedy. Will take another year before it’s clear enough to use.”

  He’d never thought her capable of this.

  “Land’s going to pure waste and you know it. I wouldn’t spread rumors, but my wife says Dorothy can’t go back to the farm to live. She’s no longer welcome. Something between Hammond and the girl went awry. Don’t rightly know what.” He stroked his beard. “Honestly, I’m a might afraid for the lass. That man has a temper.”

  James cleared his throat. “So she sold land to you, to be able to support herself?” It didn’t make much sense. “Do you require rent from her?” Unthinkable.

  He emphatically jerked his head side to side. “No, sir. We tried to get her to stay on until things die down. Thought maybe with the house repaired, they’d all be in good spirits again.” He paused. “We had us a little drama of our own going on. Didn’t even know about it ‘til today. Turns out Chess has asserted himself and expressed interest in courting her.” He laughed softly. “Granted, that might have made life around here a little awkward.”

  True, Chess’s enthusiasm drew a lot of attention. Dorothy might not be the most grateful recipient. James closed his eyes momentarily. Thankful for that at least. But she’d been boxed out. Desperate. Hopeless? He wished he didn’t know how that felt. But he did. It hurt.

  “Where will she live? Boarding house downtown only takes men.”

  “Old Maggie Birch’s cottage. She plans to fix it up. Wife’s not too pleased for a gal to live out on her own. Gave me a fit over it.”

  “That old place?” Unbelievable. Her hike there had been more than a lonely country ramble. James peered out the door and down the hall. He needed to speak with her, and soon. Surely Mr. MacDonald would be willing to reverse the transaction. Poor Dorothy. Grabbing at any notion for security. What was she thinking?

  He’d talk her into staying on here. Convince her to see sense.

  SHE FLUSHED WHEN HE walked into the parlor. Wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her chin rose defiantly despite her reticence. This was not going to be an easy conversation.

  “I did what I had to do.”

  “There are other ways to get around this problem, you know it.” He walked around the room, closed in.

  “I do? Please, explain.” She crossed her arms with impatience.

  “Waiting. Here, for instance.” He gestured wide to the handsome room.

  She flashed her eyes to his. He swallowed. “Now that is something I cannot do.”

  “I hear Chess has been arduous.” He tried not to grimace. He didn’t have anything against the young man, but the thought didn’t please him.

  “Who told you that?”

  “I’ll tell him to back off. Leave you be. Then you can stay here. Please, let’s not shave land off the farm.” Hammond is going to be furious. Another rage-induced spasm was likely. Life for all of them needed to get back to normal, and this was not the way.

  “I’ll tell you plainly.” Her voice steeled. “I visited Uncle and Aunt a few days ago.”

  “I heard about that.”

  “Then you also know that they consider you a traitor. Because of me. I couldn’t stand by and listen without speaking the truth, and no,” she held up her hand, “I didn’t tell them your secret.”

  He relaxed a little.

  As was her habit, Dorothy’s arms squeezed around her middle. “Maybe you didn’t hear what he said about me.” Unkind words.

  James did know. It grieved him. But selling a chunk of land was no solution. It was only going to cause more trouble. “He thinks you don’t know enough about the farm. You shouldn’t own it at all.”

  “No different from what you first thought.” She challenged him. “Still believe it?”

  He touched the scarring on his chin. “No...I...don’t know what to think. I’ve lost my best friend. Lost the only family I’ve had in years.” He wanted to say how worried he was for her too.

  She grew cool. “You think it’s my fault.”

  “No.” He watched as she drooped like a thirsty daisy. She eased into a chair, an arched window framing her small form. Twilight descended. The dinner bell rang, but both ignored the summons.

  They were quiet for a while. He perched on the settee, unwilling to ride home until they’d reached a workable solution.

  She pressed a hand to her chest. “For the first time in months, I know what to do. Where I need to be.”

  He nodded, considering.

  “I know the Birch’s would like the cottage back, but I need it right now. Mother left it to me. Most certainly.” She almost laughed. “No confusion on that point.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to live there.” She glanced about the room longingly. “I’m determined not to be in anyone’s way.”

  He despised that feeling. Wished he’d been more sensitive to that possibility when she first moved here. How might the s
ituation be different? If they’d all grafted her in like they had when he’d moved next door. Indeed, that might have happened sooner if the matter of the deed had never existed. If Dorothy had never lost her parents. If he’d kept out of Hammond’s affairs. If Hammond had been more responsible. He shut his eyes against the consequences. If he’d only taken better care to do the right thing from the beginning.

  He thought she might weep. Instead, her countenance brightened. “Fact is, Uncle is already angry. My decision won’t change anything, will it?”

  He hated to agree with her. If Hammond lived through the news...

  She rose from her chair, walked over to him, and pronounced carefully, “I need to live.”

  In truth, she’d read his mind. He rose too, laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

  Was she afraid of Hammond? Certainly able to stand up to him even if she was fearful. “Miss Trafton? Thank you for defending me. Only a true friend does that.” He let his hand drop to his side, allowed his gaze to linger. He wanted to gather her in his arms but...no. He couldn’t.

  She sniffed. “I care about the truth more than anything.”

  “Don’t I know it.” So did God.

  “Uncle does not have my interests at heart. That is clear. He only needs me because I hold the deed.”

  James nodded. More truth.

  “Aunt sides with him. It’s as though I’m not kin. They’ve tip-toed around me for weeks on end—like I’m some kind of sovereign.”

  Only they were right in that regard. She’d fulfilled their worst expectation and dared make a choice without them.

  Her voice lowered. “I have a suspicion that the MacDonald’s want the farmland too. I accidently overheard.” She sighed. “Oh, I feel that Mrs. MacDonald truly cares for me. She’s been so giving.” She drew a handkerchief across her eyes and whispered. “I am being squeezed at every side.”

  Their eyes met again. How well he knew the feeling.

  Chess walked in. “What are you two doing alone?” A dramatic brow lifted.