one-two-three as boots and slippers waltzed across the dining hall floor. Today he felt Katie’s absence as if it were something new. She wasn’t there to hear the laughter, to wonder at how on earth Bill Toady got the sounds he did from a fiddle, to exclaim over this new baby and that toddler, to complain when Matthew stood with the group of men gathered outside the dining hall jawing about crops and livestock.
How Katie would have loved the new display of geegaws in the front window at the mercantile. Her blue eyes would have shone just like Linney’s did when she showed him the jet buttons. Maybe he’d buy a card of them for Linney. Martha was planning to teach her to sew this spring.
Jet buttons. The pretty little thing he’d scooped up out of the snow a couple of days ago liked jet buttons, too. He felt a little guilty about his ability to remember how those buttons marched downward from the velvet-edged collar of her blue dress. Scratching his beard, Matthew tried and failed to suppress a smile remembering how angry she’d been when he scooped her up. She was light as a feather. And she smelled like spring. He wondered if she would be wearing that same dress tonight. And he hated himself for wondering. I’m sorry, Katie.
Old Bill Toady was already outdoing himself this evening. Matthew hadn’t heard fiddle music that good in a long while. You haven’t heard ANY music in a long while. Unless you count Jeb Cooper’s humming to himself when you helped him load his freight. Folks seemed to be having a wonderful time. The music and laughter had an odd effect on Matthew. He didn’t quite understand why, but instead of drawing him toward it, the sound of people enjoying themselves made part of him wish he hadn’t promised Linney a dance. Made him wish he hadn’t agreed to stay in town for a few days.
Already Vernon Lux was talking about how he needed a carpenter to fill the orders he was getting for new wagons over at the implement store, how there would likely be a rash of business once the new homesteaders started breaking ground, how good Matthew had always been at woodworking and such. “Why don’t you think about it,” Lux had said earlier today. “That back room would fix up nice. You could use it for as long as you wanted. I bet Linney would dance a jig to have her pa close by.”
These were the things keeping Matthew up here in the livery. Pondering Plum Grove’s expansion and Linney’s growing up and Katie’s absence. Realizing that Vernon Lux was right. And dreading what it all meant for Matthew Ransom.
“Oh, Mama.” Ella looked down at Mama’s open trunk and the familiar bandbox from a certain milliner’s shop in St. Louis. How had she managed to sneak it onto the train? “How did you—”
Mama waved a hand in the air. “Where there is the will, Zita finds a way.” She grinned. “You are so easy to fool sometimes.” She pointed to the hatbox. “The hard part was keeping you from seeing it when I took it out of my traveling case last night.” Mama chuckled. “I thought you’d never go to the necessary! Now—” She reached for the hat. “Hurry and put on your Sunday dress. It doesn’t match exactly, but—”
“Mama.” Ella glanced toward the hallway, mindful of how the other ladies had looked a few minutes ago as they helped Mrs. Jamison out the door and toward the dining hall. Multicolored songbirds fluttering up the street—that’s what Ella had thought. Even Mrs. Dow had laid aside black in favor of indigo silk.
“Take it.” Mama held out the new hat. “A new hat for a new life. Wear it to please me .”
“I can’t.” Ella plopped down on the bed. How could she make Mama understand? It had taken so very much effort to grasp a new dream and new hope and to climb back into the light. But that light did not include womanly things like new bonnets and waltzes. Ella’s new light shone on dreams of well-fed livestock and mountains of newly mown hay.
“Ella.”
How Katie would have loved the new display of geegaws in the front window at the mercantile. Her blue eyes would have shone just like Linney’s did when she showed him the jet buttons. Maybe he’d buy a card of them for Linney. Martha was planning to teach her to sew this spring.
Jet buttons. The pretty little thing he’d scooped up out of the snow a couple of days ago liked jet buttons, too. He felt a little guilty about his ability to remember how those buttons marched downward from the velvet-edged collar of her blue dress. Scratching his beard, Matthew tried and failed to suppress a smile remembering how angry she’d been when he scooped her up. She was light as a feather. And she smelled like spring. He wondered if she would be wearing that same dress tonight. And he hated himself for wondering. I’m sorry, Katie.
Old Bill Toady was already outdoing himself this evening. Matthew hadn’t heard fiddle music that good in a long while. You haven’t heard ANY music in a long while. Unless you count Jeb Cooper’s humming to himself when you helped him load his freight. Folks seemed to be having a wonderful time. The music and laughter had an odd effect on Matthew. He didn’t quite understand why, but instead of drawing him toward it, the sound of people enjoying themselves made part of him wish he hadn’t promised Linney a dance. Made him wish he hadn’t agreed to stay in town for a few days.
Already Vernon Lux was talking about how he needed a carpenter to fill the orders he was getting for new wagons over at the implement store, how there would likely be a rash of business once the new homesteaders started breaking ground, how good Matthew had always been at woodworking and such. “Why don’t you think about it,” Lux had said earlier today. “That back room would fix up nice. You could use it for as long as you wanted. I bet Linney would dance a jig to have her pa close by.”
These were the things keeping Matthew up here in the livery. Pondering Plum Grove’s expansion and Linney’s growing up and Katie’s absence. Realizing that Vernon Lux was right. And dreading what it all meant for Matthew Ransom.
“Oh, Mama.” Ella looked down at Mama’s open trunk and the familiar bandbox from a certain milliner’s shop in St. Louis. How had she managed to sneak it onto the train? “How did you—”
Mama waved a hand in the air. “Where there is the will, Zita finds a way.” She grinned. “You are so easy to fool sometimes.” She pointed to the hatbox. “The hard part was keeping you from seeing it when I took it out of my traveling case last night.” Mama chuckled. “I thought you’d never go to the necessary! Now—” She reached for the hat. “Hurry and put on your Sunday dress. It doesn’t match exactly, but—”
“Mama.” Ella glanced toward the hallway, mindful of how the other ladies had looked a few minutes ago as they helped Mrs. Jamison out the door and toward the dining hall. Multicolored songbirds fluttering up the street—that’s what Ella had thought. Even Mrs. Dow had laid aside black in favor of indigo silk.
“Take it.” Mama held out the new hat. “A new hat for a new life. Wear it to please me .”
“I can’t.” Ella plopped down on the bed. How could she make Mama understand? It had taken so very much effort to grasp a new dream and new hope and to climb back into the light. But that light did not include womanly things like new bonnets and waltzes. Ella’s new light shone on dreams of well-fed livestock and mountains of newly mown hay.
“Ella.”
Similar Books
