Authors: Judith Pella
Cutter had given Zack five days to pay back the money. Zack used his last few dollars trying to win back the money at the card table. He was close after three days but lost big on the fourth. Maybe he would have made better use of that last day by hoofing it out of town, but he was beginning to grow weary of all the running. He thought if he could pay back Cutter, he might be able to stick around Portland for a while, maybe make some real friends, maybe meet a decent woman. The words
settle down
still made him a little weak in the knees, but not nearly as bad as they once had.
Now he regretted that decision. He just couldn’t get a good hand dealt to him. And before he knew it, Cutter was hauling him into that dark alley on the waterfront in order to get his money—out of Zack’s hide if nowhere else.
And now, here he was, running for his life. He might have been able to finagle two extra days out of Cutter and maybe figure some way around the debt. But Cutter would never let him off now, not after having shot his second-in-command, probably his best friend.
His only choice now was to get out of town. The big question was how! He had no money, and even if he did, he knew Cutter would be watching the train and stage depot.If he could steal a horse—he’d also lost his horse in the poker game—he might be able to slip away, find back roads, and head to some remote place where he could lie low for a while, maybe find a job so he could get some money. He sure couldn’t get far on two bits. As soon as he had a little bankroll and his trail had grown cold and Cutter had forgotten about him, then he could head to some big city like San Francisco and really lose himself.
Maggie Newcomb eyed the pile of hay. From her vantage in the barn loft, it looked pretty far below, but oh, so tempting. She tried to reason that she was nearly eighteen, far too old to be leaping into hay mounds. Yet that very thought propelled her forward. She ducked her head out the loft window opening. There was no one around. Dad and Boyd were planting potatoes. Georgie, of course, was in school. Mama and Ellie were at the back of the house hoeing the garden. Maggie should be helping them and, in fact, had been sent to the barn to fetch the bag of seed corn. She’d noted the prime mound of hay on her way and had climbed into the loft just to see what it looked like from up high.
It looked perfect.
Years ago Ellie would have been right beside her. Now, at the ripe age of nineteen, Maggie’s older sister had gone all feminine and too girly for such boisterous fun.If Georgie were here, he’d do it with her. No one would yell at him for it, either, though he was fourteen. But Mama would surely light into Maggie for jumping. She was trying mightily to turn Maggie into a lady like Ellie.
Trying and failing.
Maggie stepped to the edge and launched herself out, hurtling straight into the middle of the sweet-smelling hay!
“Oowee!” she cried as she landed with a scratchy swoosh, sinking deeply into the great yellow mass.
“Margaret Edith Newcomb!” I t was Mama’s voice, though muffled by the hay wall surrounding Maggie.
For a fleeting moment Maggie considered staying put—the hay was so much more welcoming than her mother’s commanding voice. But the moment passed quickly, and she knew she could not hide from Mama, so with flailing arms she propelled herself out of the nice hiding place.
“Uh . . . hi, Mama.” Maggie sputtered the words through a mouthful of hay.
“Look at you!” Ada Newcomb all but wrung her hands. “I sent you a good while ago to fetch the corn. What is the matter with you, girl? We have work to do.I want that corn in before it rains.” Reaching up, Ada plucked a few bits of straw from her daughter’s honey brown curls. “Your braids have come loose, and your hair is all a tangle. You better watch out, Maggie! ’m’m going to send you to Mrs. Dubois’ Finishing School yet.”
Ever since Maggie finished high school last summer, that was her mother’s constant threat. Maggie had managed to wheedle out of it thus far, mostly because Dad was on her side. Not that he usually got his way around Mama, but for some reason he’d been able to stanch the flood of Mama’s threats.
“Mama, no! Please!” Maggie tried to sound convincingly abashed. No sense revealing that she knew what an empty threat it was.
“The school did good by Ellie. Why, she has blossomed into a fine young lady!”
“Well, you know Dubois ain’t even the principal’s real name.”
“
Isn’t
. And I don’t care what her name is. She does an admirable job with—” Ada stopped abruptly. “Oh no, you don’t! You’re not going to make me forget why I’ve come looking for you. We have work to do. Come with me and let’s get that corn.”
Maggie followed her mother back into the barn, a grin plastered across her face that her mother couldn’t see—Mama didn’t have eyes in the back of her head, no matter how much it might appear differently. She’d managed nicely to deflect her mother’s wrath.
Maggie got the bag of corn, and together they returned to the garden patch. Ellie was hoeing rows at the back of the garden for the corn seeds. Even in her work clothes—a faded blue calico skirt, dirty at the hem where it brushed the ground, and an old blouse—with her yellow hair neatly tied back in a braid, she looked like the beauty she was, her movements always graceful. But Maggie didn’t think it was all Mrs. Dubois’ work. It just came naturally to Ellie.
Maggie self-consciously brushed more straw from her overalls— no dress for her unless she absolutely had to wear one!
“Aren’t you a sight!” Ellie said, pausing a moment in her work to take in her hay-covered sister. “What’d you do? Fall into Dad’s hay mound?”
“She didn’t
fall
,” grated Mama.
Ellie laughed. “Couldn’t resist temptation, could you?”
“Aw, shut up,” Maggie said.
“Margaret Edith!” screeched Mama. “Don’t you speak that way!”
“Is that a drop of rain I feel?” Maggie asked, wiping a hand across her nose.
“Oh, come on.Let’s hurry!” Mama now urged, once again deflected from her rebuking.
When Maggie drew close to her sister, Ellie said under her breath, “There’s no rain, Mags.”
Maggie smiled covertly and Ellie giggled. Maggie could not be mad at her sister for long. Yes, it irritated her to no end that Ellie was so perfect, but it wasn’t really her sister’s fault, and most of the time she didn’t even seem to realize her inborn perfection. Maggie and Ellie were such good friends they just couldn’t stay angry at each other.
They managed to plant all six rows of corn before the rain began, but by the time they’d put away all their tools in the barn, they had to run to the house to keep from getting soaked. After they cleaned up, it was time to get supper. The rain would force the men in from the potato fields early, too, but they would have chores in the barn to keep them busy awhile. Mama seemed to have something on her mind and looked relieved when she saw Dad and Boyd head to the barn.
She gave Maggie potatoes to peel and Ellie some carrots and turnips to peel and cut up while she punched down the bread dough and laid it on the board for a final knead. When all hands were busy—hands always had to be busy for Mama’s satisfaction—she seemed ready to discuss what had been bothering her. Maggie feared she might be getting more serious about that finishing school and braced herself.
“Girls, I had a rather interesting quilting bee yesterday,” Mama began. “I wanted to tell you about it sooner, but with one thing and another, the time just slipped away.”
“Mama,” Ellie said, “now that I am home from school, maybe I could come to the Sewing Circle meetings.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t like it, dear. We’re all old ladies, you know.”
“Louise Arlington is only five or six years older than me.”
“Still, you’d be bored,I’m sure.”
“I could learn so much from you ladies.”
“Ellie,” put in Maggie, “you can’t really want to sit around with the biddies—now, Mama, don’t get ruffled! You said yourself that you’re all old ladies.”
“Well,” huffed Mama, “by comparison to Ellie is all I meant. I’ll talk it over with the other ladies.”
This last statement seemed reluctant. Surely Ellie, who was so smart and wise, must know Mama wanted this time for herself. Maybe Ellie realized it, after all, because she let it go at that.
“Anyway,” Mama went on, “we are going to be getting a new pastor, and the Sewing Circle thought it would be a nice gesture if we made him a welcome quilt.”
“That’s a nice idea,” Ellie said. “At least his wife will appreciate it.”
“The thing is, he is a single man, a young man, if I take the information about him correctly.” Mama gave Ellie a funny look and then added for emphasis, “A young, unmarried minister.” “Oh, Mama!” Ellie’s cheeks turned pink.
“What—?” Maggie began, then stopped as understanding dawned. She burst out laughing. “Mama’s gonna play cupid. Ellie and the preacher, sittin’ in a tree—”
“Enough, Maggie!” Mama broke in.
“I don’t even know the man,” Maggie went on, unable, as always, to resist the urge to push just as far as she could, “but I already feel sorry for him.I bet every biddy in Maintown, probably the whole county, is gonna put their daughters on display—”
“That will be quite enough, Margaret Edith!” Mama demanded.
Ellie said, “You make light, Mags, but . . . well . . . young, unmarried ministers don’t come along every day.”
“I thought you fancied Colby Stoddard, or was it Elisha Cook, or KurtL ambert? Or do you just want all the bachelors in the county?”
“I’ll leave Colby for you, sis.” Ellie grinned.
“Me? Don’t do me any favors. Anyway, Colby is so sweet on you he doesn’t even know I exist, not that I’d care if he did.”
“You both should be getting more serious in your search for a husband. You don’t want to end up like Hilda’s poor daughter,Iris,” Mama said.
“End up?” groaned Maggie. “She’s only twenty-two. I want to wait at least that long till I even think of marriage.”
“Don’t be silly, child.” Mama gave a slap to the lump of dough before dividing it into two chunks. “Iris is so homely, it’s no wonder the men don’t give her a second look. But you two—yes,
both
of you!”—she added this last with a pointed look at Maggie—”are such pretty girls, you’ll have no trouble finding nice husbands. Ellie might be married already if we hadn’t sent her to Mrs. Dubois, but I believe that was for the best, because there is now no reason why you shouldn’t aspire to the cream of the crop.”
“Like the minister,” Maggie said.
“I’ve always thought it would be wonderful to be a minister’s wife. What a wonderful way to serve God!”
Ellie’s gaze grew dreamy. No doubt she was imagining herself leading the choir, playing the piano, and being loved by all her husband’s congregation.
In truth, Maggie could imagine it of her sister. Ellie would be a perfect minister’s wife. And if it left Colby Stoddard free—well, it didn’t matter. Maggie had no interest in Colby anyway.
“So,” Mama said, as if a profound decision had been made, “back to that quilt. Each family in our church will make one or two blocks as time permits.I volunteered to do three, since Louise won’t have time for but one. We decided that it will be a sampler and the blocks will be the quilter’s choice. Each should be twelve inches and blue the main color. Blue because it is for a man.”
“Any blue, Mama?” Ellie asked. “I mean, there are so many different shades.”
“We thought a variety of shades would be fine. We’d use a navy, we thought, for the sashing. We are hoping to have the blocks finished in three weeks.”
“Three weeks? That’s not much time.”
“He’s coming in less than two months, probably sooner. We need time to put the blocks together and quilt it. And it might be a nice touch to do some kind of appliquéd border.”
“Oh, Mama, I saw the most wonderful quilt border in
Godey’s
this month.”
“I saw one, too. I ’ll bet it’s the same one. That could work very nicely. If we all work together, and I’m’m sure some of the other ladies would help, we might have time—”
“Mama,” Maggie edged in, “what is all this ‘we’ talk?” She eyed her mother warily.
“Well, of course, we will each make a block,” Mama said.
“I don’t want to snag the minister,” Maggie protested. “Besides, you know I’m a terrible stitcher.”
“The purpose of this quilt is not to snag the minister,” Mama said with as much conviction as she could muster, though they all knew otherwise. “It is to welcome him.”
“Uh-huh,” grunted Maggie.
“Well, we are all going to make a block. You can do something simple for yours.”
“Why do I always have to do what I hate to do?” Maggie lamented.
“Because,” Mama replied, “you were born a girl, and that is your lot in life.”
After dinner Ellie and Mama went off to look at patterns. Maggie helped Georgie with his arithmetic. She liked schoolwork far better than stitching! And she far more enjoyed listening to Dad and Boyd talk about the gearing up of the lumber camp after winter than hearing her mother and Ellie prattle about patterns and the new fashions in
Godey’s
. But when she and Ellie went up to their room to get ready for bed, she couldn’t help feeling out of sorts. She didn’t really fit in with Dad. He, and especially Boyd, would laugh if she tried to offer her opinion about lumber and such. Nor did she fit in with Mama and Ellie. Part of her really wanted to, but another part balked because she didn’t have the talent or innate interest they had in household matters. Though she could cook if she had to, she didn’t enjoy it, and her fingers were clumsy with a needle and thread, not to mention that she grew bored easily.
“Ellie, would you make my block?” Maggie ventured as they slipped beneath the covers of their four-poster.
“Mags, you’ve got to make a block. I t wouldn’t look right if you didn’t, especially if I made two.”
“You don’t believe that hogwash about making the quilt to impress the pastor, do you?”