Mama sat down beside her, the bonnet on her lap. “God promises to make all things new.”
“I don’t think he was talking about bonnets.”
“Well, of course he wasn’t. He was talking about things inside of us, and he’s making you new inside, too. On Tuesday when Caroline said Plum Grove wasn’t much, you pointed out the new buildings. When Ruth and Caroline told us what the Emigration Society really meant, already you were thinking how you would cope. How you would use it all to make your own place of light—your own new creation in partnership with the God who will send rain and crops and baby chicks and all good things for us to richly enjoy.” Mama paused. “That’s what I want for you, Ella. I want you to richly enjoy all good things.” She traced one of the iridescent feathers. “The morning stars made music when God created the earth. Do you remember reading that? Why shouldn’t we enjoy some music in celebration of your creating a home for us? Why shouldn’t we dance and wear new bonnets and laugh with our new neighbors? If God meant for life to be all sorrow, he wouldn’t have created laughter, Ella.” Mama squeezed her hand.
Ella sighed. Such a little thing Mama was asking. Put on a new bonnet. Go to a dance. Enjoy. It had been so long since Ella enjoyed life, she wasn’t certain she would know how. No one would ask her to dance, of course. Unless they liked a beefy gal. She looked down at the new hat. It really was lovely. Mama had such a good sense of fashion. She’d even selected a more conservative color. “All right, Mama.” Ella reached for the hat. At least it isn’t red.
He had slicked-back hair and a thin red line along his right cheekbone. The cuffs on his shirt were frayed but clean, and if her ankle weren’t throbbing so, Caroline would have loved to have danced with this Bill. He was the third Bill to ask her to dance, and the other two . . . well. The other two just plain smelled bad, and Caroline was thankful for the ability to say, “I’m so sorry, but I cain’t.” She didn’t dare lift her skirt to show them her bandaged ankle, of course, but when she rose and hobbled over to get a cup of punch from the pass-through between dining room and kitchen, Caroline allowed it was testimony enough that she wasn’t just making excuses. Thankfully, neither of the aromatic Bills invited themselves to sit down next to her. This Bill, however, seemed nice enough. And so she accepted his offer to refill her mug and didn’t mind at all when he asked her if he might “set a spell.”
“Nice evening,” he said, cupping his own coffee mug between both hands and staring down at the contents as if they required inspection before drinking. “I heard—I mean, folks are saying—”
“Please, Mr. Miller. Do tell me what folks are sayin’.” Caroline grinned. “I’ve been dyin’ to overhear what folks are sayin’, but this ankle of mine has nailed me to the floor in a corner. I’m just dyin’ of curiosity, seein’ as how it would normally be my habit to be in the middle of every single dance, where I could overhear for myself. So do tell. What are the good folks of Dawson County sayin’ about me and my friends?”
As it turned out, Bill might not be all that good at handling a straight razor, but he excelled at information. City lots were going to be available soon. The board was advertising back east for a doctor and there’d be a school before the end of the year. The late snow had caused problems for the ranchers. “That’s why there aren’t so many people out tonight,” he said. “That and the big doin’s over at Cayote. Most of the boys headed over there to see the bri—” He broke off.
Caroline finished the sentence for him. “To see the brides, I expect.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sat back then. “If it weren’t for that, there’d be dozens more here tonight.” He nodded toward the fiddler. “Bill Toady’s the best in the county. Folks always
“I don’t think he was talking about bonnets.”
“Well, of course he wasn’t. He was talking about things inside of us, and he’s making you new inside, too. On Tuesday when Caroline said Plum Grove wasn’t much, you pointed out the new buildings. When Ruth and Caroline told us what the Emigration Society really meant, already you were thinking how you would cope. How you would use it all to make your own place of light—your own new creation in partnership with the God who will send rain and crops and baby chicks and all good things for us to richly enjoy.” Mama paused. “That’s what I want for you, Ella. I want you to richly enjoy all good things.” She traced one of the iridescent feathers. “The morning stars made music when God created the earth. Do you remember reading that? Why shouldn’t we enjoy some music in celebration of your creating a home for us? Why shouldn’t we dance and wear new bonnets and laugh with our new neighbors? If God meant for life to be all sorrow, he wouldn’t have created laughter, Ella.” Mama squeezed her hand.
Ella sighed. Such a little thing Mama was asking. Put on a new bonnet. Go to a dance. Enjoy. It had been so long since Ella enjoyed life, she wasn’t certain she would know how. No one would ask her to dance, of course. Unless they liked a beefy gal. She looked down at the new hat. It really was lovely. Mama had such a good sense of fashion. She’d even selected a more conservative color. “All right, Mama.” Ella reached for the hat. At least it isn’t red.
He had slicked-back hair and a thin red line along his right cheekbone. The cuffs on his shirt were frayed but clean, and if her ankle weren’t throbbing so, Caroline would have loved to have danced with this Bill. He was the third Bill to ask her to dance, and the other two . . . well. The other two just plain smelled bad, and Caroline was thankful for the ability to say, “I’m so sorry, but I cain’t.” She didn’t dare lift her skirt to show them her bandaged ankle, of course, but when she rose and hobbled over to get a cup of punch from the pass-through between dining room and kitchen, Caroline allowed it was testimony enough that she wasn’t just making excuses. Thankfully, neither of the aromatic Bills invited themselves to sit down next to her. This Bill, however, seemed nice enough. And so she accepted his offer to refill her mug and didn’t mind at all when he asked her if he might “set a spell.”
“Nice evening,” he said, cupping his own coffee mug between both hands and staring down at the contents as if they required inspection before drinking. “I heard—I mean, folks are saying—”
“Please, Mr. Miller. Do tell me what folks are sayin’.” Caroline grinned. “I’ve been dyin’ to overhear what folks are sayin’, but this ankle of mine has nailed me to the floor in a corner. I’m just dyin’ of curiosity, seein’ as how it would normally be my habit to be in the middle of every single dance, where I could overhear for myself. So do tell. What are the good folks of Dawson County sayin’ about me and my friends?”
As it turned out, Bill might not be all that good at handling a straight razor, but he excelled at information. City lots were going to be available soon. The board was advertising back east for a doctor and there’d be a school before the end of the year. The late snow had caused problems for the ranchers. “That’s why there aren’t so many people out tonight,” he said. “That and the big doin’s over at Cayote. Most of the boys headed over there to see the bri—” He broke off.
Caroline finished the sentence for him. “To see the brides, I expect.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sat back then. “If it weren’t for that, there’d be dozens more here tonight.” He nodded toward the fiddler. “Bill Toady’s the best in the county. Folks always
Similar Books
