Robin (22 page)

              “Are you ready for the day?”

              Robin nodded and forced a smile. “Ready or not, it isn’t going to change anything, is it? I’m glad William is here. You haven’t met him yet, have you? You missed a lot of excitement in church Sunday.”

              “Didn’t miss a thing. Leastways didn’t miss the telling of it. Henrietta Harvey was waiting for me to unlock the door first thing Monday morning so she could fill me in on every little detail.” She wrinkled her nose in imitation of Henrietta. “I says to Albert, I said, ‘I must let Emma know the news. Why, to think! A right-good-looking young man all the way from Chicago sitting there beside John Wenghold’s niece, just like he belonged here.’”

              “You knew he was coming, Emma. I’m anxious for you to meet him.”

              “I didn’t finish my story. Henrietta barely got the words out of her mouth when who should walk in the door but the right-good-looking young man himself.”

              Robin frowned. “William was in the Mercantile? Monday?”

              “Sure thing. Do you think he brought those blue britches from Chicago? He came walking in as if he did that every Monday morning of his life. First he bowed to Henrietta, kissed her hand, winked at me, and announced he was looking for the nicest throwing ball I might have for a very special little boy. I thought Henrietta would swoon plumb off her feet.” Emma laughed.

              “Well, that explains his secret supplier. I didn’t know he left the ranch. I was so busy getting ready for today I all but ordered the men to stay out of the house. Did he say anything?”

              “Well, of course he said something.” Emma laughed. “You think we just stood and stared at one another?”

              “You know what I mean, Emma. You’re as bad as Uncle John. I suppose you’ll tell me that if I want to know anything I’ll have to ask him.”

              Emma nodded. “I’m not saying we’re in cahoots, but your Uncle John’s a wise man.”

              “Oh, Emma. I know William came to find out if we could have any kind of relationship that might end in marriage. He told me that much in his letter. I feel like one of those mannequins you have in your window. William and I have always been good friends, but this is very awkward. And he’s different out here.”

              “Different?” Emma frowned. “Different in what way? He’s still a man, isn’t he? Still your friend, isn’t he?”

              “It’s because he is a man. I’ve never seen him so . . . so manly. And when he looks at me, it’s not at all the way he used to look at me when we were just friends.”

              Emma patted her hands. “I doubt either of you expected the other one to be different. People have a way of remembering the what-was’s without giving any room for the what-is’s. Give it time, Robin. He’s only been here a short, short while.” She hooked her arm into Robin’s. “Now, let’s meander a bit and enjoy this wonderful Hawk ranch. Back behind the house is perhaps one of the most beautiful views of this prairie you’ll find anywhere. It’s remarkable to think Ty’s grandparents got a wagon over these hills all those years ago. And they traveled alone, so the story goes.”

              The panorama was everything Emma promised. A small bench beckoned Robin, and she sat with her back against the rough bark of a large cottonwood tree. Its heart-shaped leaves danced above her as a breeze tiptoed through on its way to the hills. “Oh, Emma, this is beautiful. I could stay here all day.”

              “Well, you sit, girl. I want to see if Florence Blair needs help. I doubt she can depend on Anna. I’ll meet you at John’s wagon come lunchtime.”

              Robin drank in the view and the stillness. It was hard to believe a place of such solitude existed with all the activity and noise surrounding her. A few large, flat rocks lay here and there, as though they may have been stepping-stones, or perhaps marked boundaries of some kind. How she wished she could share this with her sisters. What fun they would have conjuring up make-believe stories of days gone by. Ty never talked about his parents, but what gracious people they must have been. The large rambling house indicated they’d planned on it housing many people at any given time. And the wraparound porch held an assortment of small tables and chairs, along with two large swings.

              “It’s quite impressive isn’t it, Miss Wenghold.”

              Anna’s appearance startled her, and she cringed at the thought of needing to make conversation. “It is at that, Miss Blair. And so very welcoming.”

              “Yes, well, the Morgans were known for their hospitality, though their choice of guests was often questionable. I don’t suppose Ty’s mother ever turned away a soul.”

              “She must have been a wonderful lady. It would be no small job to keep a place like this running efficiently.”

              “I can assure you the new Mrs. Morgan does not intend to follow in her footsteps. In fact, I commented to Ty that perhaps after we wed you might consider working for us on a regular basis. You know, cleaning house, preparing the evening meal, laundry, and such. I will certainly need help. As mistress of this lovely place, I will be expected to entertain often, and I certainly don’t want to become a charwoman in the process.”

              “And Mr. Morgan agreed to this arrangement, did he?” Robin fought to keep her voice steady.

              Anna’s eyes narrowed. “No, as a matter of fact. He seemed to think you would consider yourself our maid, though I assured him you we would treat you as one of the family. That is, of course, if you’ll still be here. Tell me about that handsome man beside you in church on Sunday.” She leaned closer. “Is he by any chance one of those who answered your uncle’s advertisement for a husband? Quite exciting, I must say—not to know who might be showing up next.”

              Robin stood. Oh, if only she could run. “My uncle’s advertisement, Miss Blair? And how, may I ask, could you have seen it?”

              “Oh, well, you see after I left your house that day, I came here to visit Ty and he—”

              “Ty’s aware of this, too?” Her heart thumped and heat rushed to her face. Would he think she’d agreed to such a scheme? What must he think of her?

              “I don’t know how he could not be aware. The advertisement lay on his bedside table, in plain sight. But honestly, Miss Wenghold, there’s no reason for you to be so upset. Your guest is quite handsome, and I’m sure you must know that as well. And I believe Henrietta Harvey understood he was from Chicago. One would never know it by looking, would one?”

              “Miss Blair. How many people here today know about my uncle’s ridiculous scheme?”

              Anna arched her eyebrows. “Ridiculous? I think he must be thinking only of your own welfare. How else would you find someone willing to take on a . . . a fatherless child and, oh, I know this is going to sound especially cruel, but we’re all aware of your infirmity. You have such a burden to bear. It would be wonderful if you were to find a husband by any means.”

              “Oh, there you are, dear.” Florence Blair bustled around the corner of the porch. She smiled at Robin and slipped her arm around Anna’s waist. “You have five minutes to freshen up before we start the activities.”

              Anna nodded at Robin. “It’s been so nice visiting with you, Miss Wenghold. I do hope you’ll consider what we’ve discussed.” She turned. “I’m coming, Mother, but don’t start until Ty and I join you, please.”

              At her daughter’s departure, Mrs. Blair stepped closer to Robin. “I’m glad you and Anna can be friends. She hasn’t many, you know. I’m quite guilty of being far too lenient with her. I suppose I made the same mistake as many mothers—attempting to be a friend rather than the parent. You see, her dear papa died when she was yet much too young to remember him. I’m sure you understand, practically being a mother to that small child, and with no man to help.” She smiled and laid her hand on Robin’s arm. “But I see your situation may soon change. I do hope you will decide to stay in our fair community. There are not many young married couples in the area. How lovely if Ty and Anna were to have friends close by.”

              “And why wouldn’t I stay, Mrs. Blair?” Robin regretted her sharp words, but she had to know if this woman also thought William had answered the advertisement.

              A small frown flitted across Mrs. Blair’s brow. “I . . . I suppose I assumed the nice young gentleman . . . well, Chicago is such a lovely place, and I couldn’t blame a young woman for preferring the city over our humble, rough prairie.”

              Robin clenched her fists. Why hadn’t she followed her instincts and stayed home? It wouldn’t have changed anything, except she wouldn’t have known what people were thinking. She extended her hand to Mrs. Blair. In spite of this conversation, she liked the woman. She didn’t for a minute believe she intended to be cruel. Her daughter, on the other hand . . .

“If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Blair. I believe I shall find Mr. Benson and Jacob. I do thank you for the obvious effort you’ve put into making this day special for . . . for everyone.”

TWENTY-THREE

              Ty folded his arms along the top rail of the fence and peered at the hills beyond. If only he could talk with Pa again. A heaviness squeezed his chest and he took a deep breath to rid it. This should be a happy day. A day to remember forever. Engaged to a beautiful woman, owner of the biggest ranch in the area, and by the number of people around the grounds, he was blessed with friends and neighbors. Why, then, did he feel as though he were suffocating?

              “Thought I might find you out here.” John Wenghold propped his foot on the bottom rail. “Ya reminded me so much of your pa a standin’ here it gave me a start.”

              Ty nodded. “I could always count on him being here every evening before bedtime. I’d sidle up to him and do my best to hike my foot up on that bottom rail like you did just now. ‘What’cha doing Papa?
’
I’d ask him the same question every time, but he never scolded me
.
His answer never varied in all those years. ‘Lifting my eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.’ I miss him. Wish I could ask him one more time.”

              John clapped him on the shoulder. “Never enough one-more-times. A body keeps a wantin’ more. As old as I am, I still miss my pa.” He crossed his arms on the rail and glanced sideways at Ty. “Ya don’t have peace about what’s happenin’ today, do ya?”

              Ty turned and braced one shoulder on the fence. “None at all. But it’s my own fault, I suppose.”

              “Why’d you let things go this far? Ya had a choice, didn’t ya?”

              He smiled at his neighbor. “Pa taught me a lesson concerning choices once.”

              “I’m listenin’.”

              “He caught me with a cookie in one hand and the other hand in the cookie jar. ‘You have permission for that, son?’ he said.” Ty laughed. “I can still see the furrow in his brow. I told him I did. Papa cocked his head and one eyebrow raised to his hairline and asked if I had permission for two cookies. I knew better than to lie, so I swallowed and said, ‘No, sir, but I can’t decide which one I want.’ Then Pa asked me what difference it made. I should’ve known there was a lesson in it.”

              John chuckled. “And the lesson?”

              “Mama made molasses cookies that day and decorated some of them with sugar. I argued the one with sugar would be the best because it was the prettiest, and with the sprinkles it had to be the sweetest.”

              John cocked one eyebrow. “Reasonable thinkin’. Though sure is funny how things come back to haunt ya, isn’t it?”

              “Those are the words Pa used. He knelt down in front of me and looked me square in the eyes. ‘Son,’ he said. ‘All your life you’re going to have to make choices. I think you know the difference between good and bad, so I don’t expect that to be so hard. But it’s deciding between good and good that’ll give you trouble.’”

              “Bet you never expected them two good things to be women-folk, did ya?”

              “Never. Pa told me it was the inside of a cookie that made the difference. The sugar made it look pretty, but what was inside was what really mattered. ‘Choose wisely, son,’ he said, ‘because a man is defined by the choices he makes and the words he speaks. You don’t go back on either. A good choice will bless you, while a bad choice can haunt you forever.’”

              John scratched his head. “You think askin’ Anna to marry ya was a bad choice?”

              Ty turned and peered across the prairie again. “Asking her to marry me wasn’t a bad choice. It’s the promise to always be here if and when she ever decided to return that haunts me. I gave my word, John.”

              “Guess you never figgered on a little bird flyin’ in, did ya?”

              He laid his forehead on his crossed arms. “Didn’t expect that little bird to limp into the middle of my heart. And”—he met John’s eyes—“Anna has changed.”

              John turned and braced his back on the fence. “And supposin’ Anna would’ve showed up without Robin bein’ here? Is those changes so big you can’t abide by your word?”

              Ty shrugged. “I don’t know how to answer that. Maybe if I had more time.”

              “I ain’t never had no young’uns askin’ my advice. And it don’t look like you got more time. But I reckon when your days on this ole’ earth are done, they ain’t gonna carve into no headstone how many cows ya grazed, or how big your house was, or how much money ya had in the bank. The Bible says it’s better to choose a good name than all them other things people call riches. And a man’s wor
d
i
s
his name. It takes a big man to do what’s right even when his heart is a thumpin’ the other way.”

              “What will become of Robin and Jacob?”

              “Ya think the Lord don’t know where they’s at? Don’t tell me ya think you’re the onliest one who can take care of ‘em. I think you’re still wantin’ both cookies, Ty. It don’t work that way. Next time you’ll know better than to fill your mouth with words so quick. Tell me this, which one of them sweets did ya choose way back then?”

              Ty groaned and put his face on his arms again. “The one with the sugar sprinkled on top.”

              John pushed away from the fence. “Habits are formed early, ain’t they? You can’t be lifting your eyes unto them hills as long as you got your face buried like that. I’m gonna go back and find Robin. And whatever decidin’ you gotta do better be done in a hurry, cuz I think that’s Florence Blair standin’ by the bell, and I reckon she’s lookin’ for you.”

###

Robin turned from Mrs. Blair and limped around the side of the house as fast as her bad leg allowed. Her insides trembled so she imagined it showed, even at a distance. How dare Anna Blair suggest she might consider being their housekeeper. The raw nerve of her to indicate that the only way she would ever find a husband was to advertise for one. How could William’s gaze make her feel so beautiful this morning, and Anna’s smile make her feel so ugly a few short hours later?

              On the front lawn, William and Jacob were still playing catch, and as soon as she drew near enough to be heard, she yelled for them
.
Please, Lord, this would be a very good time for You to start answering my prayers. Let Jacob cooperate and William not ask questions. I need to get out of here. I can’t face one more minute of humiliation.

              “Jacob, go get in the wagon.” She struggled, unsuccessfully, to keep her voice steady. “Now.”

              William put his arm around her waist, brow wrinkled. “Robin, what is it? Can you tell me?”

              She shook her head. Hadn’t she prayed he wouldn’t ask questions? “Please, don’t ask. Not yet. I need to get away from here. Jacob, you’re coming with us.”

              “But I don’t want to leave. Me and Mr. Benson is having fun.”

              William pointed to the wagon. “We’re leaving, Jacob, and it will do you no good to argue.”

              Jacob crossed his arms and shook his head.

              Robin grabbed the boy’s shoulders and turned him to the wagon. “I need you to cooperate. Get in. Now.” She couldn’t stop the tears.

              “Are you sick, girly? You done look like you been kicked.” A wrinkle settled between John’s eyebrows. “What’s happened, William?”

              William shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. But this isn’t the time to pry. It’s obvious she’s quite upset and wants to go home. Perhaps I’ll know more later.”

              Robin shook her head. They were all discussing her as if she were a child––as if she wasn’t even there.

              William cupped his hand to yell at Emma, who was rushing from the house toward them. “I’ll explain later. Would you mind bringing John home?”

              Emma waved him on. “Was already figuring on it.”

“Pack rats got the paper, Uncle John?” Robin glared at him. “How could you?”