“Why so soon?”
“We left Kelly alone, and I don’t feel right about that.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s not a little girl, you know.”
Mike knew all right. Every time Kelly smiled at him or tipped her head to one side as she spoke his name, he was fully aware that she was a desirable young woman, not the child who used to drop by his store with her parents. He was anxious to get back to their picnic spot and see what Kelly had drawn.
“Mike, please slow down. I can barely keep up with you,” Betsy panted when Mike started walking again.
“Sorry, but I invited Kelly to join me for a picnic today, and she probably thinks I’ve abandoned her.”
Betsy moaned. “I didn’t realize you two were courting. Why didn’t you say so? If I’d known, I certainly would not have intruded on your time together.”
Mike’s ears were burning, and he knew they had turned bright red, the way they always did whenever he felt nervous or got flustered about something.
“Kelly and I are not officially courting,” he mumbled.
Though I sure wish we were.
Betsy opened her mouth as if to say something, but he spoke first.
“Even though we’re not courting, I did invite her on a picnic. So, it’s only right that I spend some time with her, don’t you think?”
Betsy let out a deep sigh, but she nodded. “Far be it from me to keep you from your Christian duty.”
“Thanks for understanding.” Mike hurried up the towpath, with Betsy still clutching his arm. Soon Kelly came into view, and Mike halted his footsteps at the sight before him. Stretched out on the quilt, her dark hair fanned out like a pillow, Kelly had fallen asleep. The sketching tablet was in one hand, and a chunk of charcoal was in the other. She looked like an angel. Would she be his angel someday?
***
The following day, Mike was surprised when Kelly’s dad entered his store shortly after he’d opened for business.
“Mr. McGregor, how are you feeling this morning?” Mike asked.
“I’ll live,” came the curt reply.
“I hope the days you spent docked here gave you ample time to rest up and get that cough under control.”
Amos coughed and grunted in response. “As I said, I’ll live, but it looks like we’ll be stuck here another day or so, ’cause thanks to you, one of my mules came up lame this mornin’.”
Mike frowned. “Really? They both seemed fine yesterday.”
“Herman’s not fine now. He went and got his leg cut up on a bale of wire you carelessly left layin’ around.” Kelly’s dad leveled Mike with a challenging look.
Feeling a headache coming on, Mike massaged his forehead with his fingertips. “Weren’t your mules in their stalls last night?”
“Yeah, in your barn.”
“Then I don’t understand how one of them could have gotten cut with the wire, which was nowhere near the stalls.”
“Guess the door wasn’t latched tight and they got out. At least Herman did, for he’s the one with the cut leg.”
Mike opened his mouth to respond, but Amos rushed on. “You got any liniment for me to put on the poor critter?”
“I’m sure I do.” Mike hurried to the area of the store where he kept all the medicinal supplies, and Amos stayed right on his heels. The man seemed grumpier than usual today. Was it because he was so upset about the mule’s injury and blamed Mike for the mishap?
Mike had no more than taken the medicine off the shelf, when Amos snatched it out of his hands. The older man stomped up to the counter and demanded, “How much do I owe ya for this?”
“I normally charge a quarter for that liniment, but since you feel the accident was my fault, there’ll be no charge,” Mike answered as he moved to the other side of the counter. He knew the McGregors weren’t financially well off, and now that they couldn’t travel because of a lame mule, they would be set back even further.
Amos slapped a quarter down. “I won’t be beholdin’ to no man, so I’ll pay ya what the stuff is worth.” He grimaced. “I’m losin’ money with each passing day. First I got slowed down when Dorrie was sick and I was tryin’ to cook, clean, and steer the boat. Then I came down with the bug and was laid up for a couple of days. Now I’ve got me a lame mule, and it should never have happened!”
“I’m sorry for your inconvenience, Mr. McGregor,” Mike said apologetically.
“Yeah, well, at the rate things are goin’, it’ll be the end of the week before I can get back up to Mauch Chunk for another load of coal.”
“Could you go on ahead with just one mule? I’d be happy to stable Herman until you come back this way.”
Amos scowled at Mike. “Hector might be strong enough to pull the boat when it’s empty, but not with a load of coal. Don’tcha know anything, boy?”
Mike clenched his teeth. Even though he didn’t know everything about canal boating, he wasn’t stupid. Should he defend himself to Kelly’s dad or ignore the discourteous remark? Mike opted for the second choice. “I hope your mule’s leg heals quickly, Mr. McGregor, and I’m sorry about the wire. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Amos coughed, blew his nose on the hanky he’d withdrawn from the pocket of his overalls, and sauntered out the door, slamming it behind him.
Mike sank to the wooden stool behind the counter and shook his head. At least one good thing would come from the McGregors being waylaid another day or two. It would give him a chance to see Kelly again. Yesterday’s picnic had been a big disappointment to Mike. First, Betsy had invited herself to join them, and then, she’d hung onto him most of the day. Kelly had fallen asleep while she was waiting for him and Betsy to return from their walk. He’d wakened her when they got back to the picnic site, but Kelly seemed distant after that and said she needed to head for the boat. Mike offered to walk with her, but she handed him her finished picture of two ducks on the water and said she could find her own way. She’d even insisted that Mike see the preacher’s daughter safely home.
Mike reached up to scratch the back of his head. He had to let Kelly know he wasn’t interested in Betsy. He cared about Kelly, and he wanted her to realize that. He just had to figure out how to go about revealing his true feelings without scaring her off.
***
Kelly couldn’t believe they were stranded in front of Mike’s store yet another day, possibly more. And as she followed Papa’s curt instructions to get off the boat and put some medicine on Herman’s leg, she shook her head over Papa’s refusal to let the mules be stabled in Mike’s barn any longer. It wasn’t Mike’s fault Herman had broken free from his stall and cut his leg on a roll of wire that had been sitting near the barn door. Now Herman and Hector were both tied to a maple tree growing several feet off the towpath, not far from where their boat was docked. Tonight, they would be bedded down in the compartment set aside for them in the bow of the boat.
Kelly squatted beside Herman’s right front leg and slathered on some of the medicine. “I don’t see why I have to do this,” she muttered. “I’d planned to get some drawin’ done today, but Papa will probably find more chores for me to do when I return to the boat.”
A sense of guilt for her selfish thoughts washed over Kelly. She knew her dad still wasn’t feeling well, and he had a right to get some rest while they were laid over. Trouble was, she wanted to draw. At the rate she was going, she would never have anything to give Mike to try to sell in his store. She had given him the picture of the ducks she’d drawn during yesterday’s picnic, but that was all.
Thinking about the picnic caused an ache in Kelly’s soul. She didn’t understand why Mike had invited her, then asked Betsy Nelson to join them.
Well, not asked, exactly,
she reminded herself. If Kelly’s memory served her right, it was Betsy who had done the asking. Mike only agreed she could accompany them on the picnic. Might could be that he had no real interest in Betsy at all.
“’Course I don’t care if he does,” she murmured.
Herman brayed, and Hector followed suit, as if in answer to her complaints.
When Kelly stood up, Herman nuzzled her arm with his nose. She chuckled and patted his neck. “You should be good as new in a day or so, Herman the Determined. Then we can be on our way again.”
On impulse, Kelly reached into her apron pocket and withdrew the drawing pad and piece of charcoal she often carried with her. She flopped onto the ground and began to sketch the two mules as they grazed on the green grass.
Some time later, she stood up. She had two pictures of Herman and Hector to take over to Mike’s.
When she entered the store, Kelly was pleased to see that Mike had no customers, and he seemed genuinely glad to see her.
“I was sorry to hear about Herman’s leg,” he said, moving toward Kelly. “Your dad thinks it’s my fault because there was a roll of wire by the barn door.”
She pursed her lips. “Papa always looks for someone to blame. Don’t fret about it, ’cause it sure wasn’t your doin’. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Papa. He’s the one who fed and watered the mules last night, so he probably didn’t see that the door to their stall was shut tight.” She frowned. “Of course, he’d never admit it.”
Mike grinned at Kelly, and her stomach did a little flip-flop. She licked her lips and took a step forward. “I ... uh ... brought you a couple more drawings.”
She held the pictures out to Mike, and he took them. “Thanks, these are nice. I’ll get them put on display right away.”
“Sure wish they had a little color to ’em. Herman and Hector are brown, not black, but my picture don’t show it.”
“Maybe you could buy a set of watercolors or oil paints,” Mike suggested.
She shook her head. “Don’t have enough money for that yet.” Kelly knew she needed to save all her money if she was ever going to earn enough to be on her own or open an art gallery.
“Have you considered making your own watercolors?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “How could I do that?”
“I noticed some coffee stains on my tablecloth this morning,” Mike said. “Funny thing was, they were all a different shade of brown.”
“Hmm ... guess it all depends on the strength of the coffee how dark the stain might be.”
He nodded. “Exactly. So, I was thinking maybe you could try using old coffee to paint with. I’ve got some brushes I could let you have.”
Kelly considered his offer carefully. It did sound feasible, but she wouldn’t feel right about taking the brushes without paying something for them. If Papa had taught her anything, it was not to accept charity.
“How much would the brushes cost?” she asked Mike.
“I just said I’d be happy to give them to you.”
She shook her head. “I either pay, or I don’t take the brushes.”
He shrugged. “I’ll let you have three for a nickel. How’s that sound?”
She nodded. “It’s a deal.”
A few minutes later, Kelly was walking out the door with three small paintbrushes, a jar of cold coffee, and an apple for each mule. Mike had insisted the coffee was a day old and he would have to throw it out if she didn’t accept it. Kelly decided stale coffee didn’t have much value, so she agreed to take it off his hands. The apples she paid for.
“Come back tomorrow and let me know how your new watercolors work out,” Mike said.
She smiled and called over her shoulder, “I may have more pictures for you in the mornin’.”
***
That night after Kelly went to her room, she worked with the coffee watercolors. It was the first time she’d ever used a paintbrush, and it took awhile to get the hang of it. But once she did, Kelly found it to be thoroughly enjoyable. She decided to try a little experiment.
In her bare feet, she crept upstairs to the small kitchen area. She knew her folks were both asleep. She could hear Mama’s heavy breathing and Papa’s deep snoring.
Kelly lifted the lid from the wooden bin where Mama kept a stash of root vegetables. She pulled out a few carrots, two onions, and a large beet. Next, she heated water in the castiron kettle on the cookstove. When it reached the boiling point, she placed her vegetables in three separate bowls and poured scalding water over all. One by one Kelly carried the bowls back to her room. She would let them sit overnight, and by morning, she hoped to have colored water in three different shades.
The following day, Herman’s leg was no better, and Papa was fit to be tied.
“I’m losin’ money just sittin’ here,” he hollered as he examined the cut on Herman’s leg.
Kelly stood by his side, wishing she had some idea what to say.
“Do you know how many boats I’ve seen goin’ up and down the canal?” he bellowed. “Everyone but me is makin’ money this week!”
Kelly thought of the little bit of cash she’d made when Mike paid her for those first few drawings. If Papa were really destitute, she would offer to turn the money over to him. That wasn’t the case, though. Her dad was tightfisted with his money, and truth be told, he probably had more stashed away than Kelly would ever see in her lifetime. Besides, she didn’t want Papa to know she had any money. If he found out, he would most likely demand that she give it all to him—and any future money she made as well.
So Kelly quietly listened to her father’s tirade. He would soon calm down. He always did.
“Should I check with Mike Cooper and see if he has any other medicine that might work better on Herman’s cut?” she asked when Papa finally quit blustering.
His face turned bright red, and his forehead wrinkled. “I ain’t givin’ that man one more dime to take care of an injury that he caused in the first place. We’ll sit tight another day and see how Herman’s doin’ come morning.” Papa turned and stomped off toward the boat.
Kelly reached up to stroke Herman behind his ear. “He’s a stubborn one, that papa of mine,” she mumbled. Yes, they were losing time and money by waiting for the mule’s leg to heal, but didn’t Papa realize if he spent a little more on medicine, Herman’s leg would probably heal faster? Then they could be on their way to Mauch Chunk and be making money that much sooner. Papa was just being mulish.