Sixteen Brides (14 page)

“But Ella’s plan only allows for four,” Ruth said.

“I told Ella I’d rather we all stay together than to have my own land,” Mama said.

Hettie spoke up. “I . . . I don’t want my own land.” She dropped her voice. “I . . . I didn’t really plan this trip. It was sort of . . . well . . . sort of a fast decision.” She gave a nervous little laugh. “I imagine you’ve all figured that out by now. I didn’t even have my own trunk when we unloaded.” She cleared her throat. “I know I said the railroad lost it.” She looked down at her lap. “I lied. I’m sorry.” She nodded at Ella’s model on the table. “I’d work hard just for room and board. If you’d have me.”

“I have to have land in my name,” Ruth said. “Maybe I could get something nearby, but—”

Caroline smiled. “Well, I think it’s obvious to all of us that you’re one of the four.” She grinned. “After all, we aren’t about to give up Jackson.”

“Does that mean
you
want to do this?”

“Now, don’t ya’ll sound so surprised,” Caroline said. “Just because I didn’t run about Jeb Cooper’s place shoutin’ glory hallelujah doesn’t mean I want to spend my life sellin’ geegaws to the ladies who come into Martha’s mercantile.” She chuckled. “Even though I
am
very good at it.” She gestured toward the model. “It’s brilliant, Ella.” She glanced around the table. “But we need sleepin’ quarters for
seven
.”

“What about a loft over the two bedrooms?” Hettie suggested. “One side for Jackson, one for me”—she glanced around—“if th-that’s all right with everyone.”

“All right, then,” Ella said, and pointed to the parts of the model. “Sally here, Caroline across from her. Ruth here with Jackson in the loft above, and—” She glanced Ruth’s way. “Do you think you can put up with me?”

“What about Zita?”

“Zita,” Mama said quickly, “wants a dressing screen around her cot in the corner of the kitchen near the stove, where her old bones can stay warm. And a rocking chair. And indoor plumbing. And plastered walls like Mr. Cooper had. And a window right by her cot so she can smell blooming flowers every morning when she wakes up.” She clasped her hands together and made a show of inhaling deeply.

“Is there anything else you’d like, Mama?” Ella laughed.

Mama twitched both eyebrows. “I want to be young for just one dance with that handsome rancher. Or an evening.” She grinned wickedly. “Or perhaps even a very long evening.”

“Mama!” Ella scolded.

“You don’t want to know, don’t ask.” With a flick of her wrist toward Ella, Mama brought the subject back to the house by pointing at the model. “So. Tell us how we build it.”

“First a breaking plow slices the sod and lays it over.” Ella gestured as she spoke.

“And where do we get such a plow? And who uses it?”

“Martha suggested we ask Mr. Cooper. She said the plow that was used to build that house is probably still in the barn. She seemed to think he might be offended if we didn’t ask his help.” Ella frowned. “But after he spoke of all he has to do—”

“We could offer to clean up the house for him,” Sally said. “Then he wouldn’t have so much to do.”

“I’d be happy to help with that,” Caroline said. “I’m not gonna be much use with the buildin’ until this ankle heals.”

“I’ll do whatever needs doing,” Ruth said from her place at the stove. “But please, Ella. Explain the process. Just how, exactly, does one build a sod house?”

Ella described how the cutting plow laid over strips of sod. “Those we cut into three-foot lengths and then we lay up the walls like so many bricks. We fill the seams between the sod strips with more dirt. The windows and doorways are set in place and the walls rise around them. We hammer pegs through the door and window frames into the sod to keep them in place.”

“And stuff rags around them,” Caroline muttered.

“No,” Ella said firmly. “No rags. With no offense to anyone, I thought that looked . . . shabby.
We
will seal things tight and keep them in good repair. And we will plaster our walls. At least the inside ones. But that comes later—after the roof. Once the walls are up, a ridgepole is laid at the top and then the roof is added. And we’ll want shingles if we can find someone to make them.” She sat back. “I can plow and haul sod bricks and do almost everything else, but I don’t know how to make shingles and I don’t know how to put on a roof.”

“H-how long will it all take?” Hettie asked.

“Will said that if we file on the land right away, we could be moved in by the end of the month.”

“That soon?” Several said it at once. Laughter rippled around the table and then everyone began talking at once.

“We’ll want to make a list of everything each of us brought with us,” Ruth said.

“Teapots,” Caroline said. “We have enough teapots to host a county-wide tea party.”

“What about a lean-to on the back of the main room?” Ruth said. “To keep our firewood out of the weather. And I’ve two pair of lace curtains. Did anyone else bring curtains?”

“What we gonna cook on?” Sally asked. She nodded at Mama. “Zita said she makes good soup. Looks like she’ll be makin’ a lot of it.”

“We need a big stove,” Ruth said. “And a good-sized table.”

“We should go over to Haywoods’ as soon as they open and order a stove,” Mama said.

“How m-much is that going to cost?” Hettie frowned.

“I can buy the stove,” Ruth said, “if it isn’t too expensive.”

“We need to keep an account book,” Caroline said, “but I’ve got no idea how to make that work.”

“You’uns figure out how to make it work,” Sally said, and stood up. “I told Mavis and Helen I’d help serve breakfast over at the dining hall.”

“But . . . don’t you have more questions?” Ella asked.

“Probably. But none I gotta ask right now.” Sally pointed around the table. “We’ve got sewing, cooking, knitting, doctoring, livestock, plowing, and”—she put her hand over her heart—“a first-rate henhouse tender. The way I see it, we got everything we need for our human henhouse, too. And a boy thrown in for good measure.” Sally headed for the door. “Just tell me when to climb on the wagon.” And with that, she took her leave.

“A wagon,” everyone said at once.

“Yes,” Ella nodded. “We do need a wagon. And a team.”

Caroline spoke up. “I’ve got a hundred dollars,” she said. “That’s all my money. But I’ll put it in.” She glanced Jackson’s way. “Jackson and I were going to make a little visit to the livery later today. I’ll see what can be done about a wagon and a team—if that’s all right with y’all?” She looked pointedly at Ella. “I . . . I know about horses. I was my daddy’s stableboy.”

“If the railroad will refund the part of my ticket I didn’t use,” Hettie said, “maybe I can put in something. I’ve only got two dollars to my name right now.”

“You’ll be tending folks and bringing in who knows what once word gets out that we’ve got the next best thing to a doctor on our place,” Ella said. Then she looked around the table and asked, “It is settled, then? We are agreed?”

When everyone nodded, Mama said, “May the Lord bless it.”

“M-maybe we should ask him, too,” Hettie said.

And so they did.

CHAPTER
TEN

For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing:
for to will is present with me;
but how to perform that which is good I find not.

ROMANS 7:18

M
rs. Jamison!” Linney sang out from her place behind the mercantile counter. “You’re staying! Will said you’re
all
staying. We’re so glad!” She glanced down at the yard goods stretched on the counter. “And
I’m
glad you agreed to help at the store for a while. It’s getting harder and harder to keep up with things, what with new people coming in every day and Martha so busy at the dining hall and the Immigrant House. It’s too much for her. Will says it’s too much and he’s right.” She frowned. “Oh, blast,” she said. “Now I can’t remember if this is a yard or a yard and two-thirds.” With a sigh, she pulled out a yardstick.

“If you’ll hand me a sheet of paper, I’ll cut it into small squares and pin notes on each piece so you know what you’ve cut.”

“That’d be fine,” Linney said. She remeasured the fabric. “A yard and
one-
third.” She motioned to the bolts of calico sitting at the far end of the counter. “Those are all just end pieces. Martha wants it all measured and rolled up and put in one of the new washtubs by the front door. She’s hoping for a big crowd for the wedding.”

“Wedding?”

“I thought you would have heard. James McDonald proposed to Mrs. Smith while you ladies were gone with Will looking at homesteads. And she said yes.”

“I didn’t know there was another Mrs. Smith in Dawson County.”

“Well, there isn’t. I mean, it’s the same Mrs. Smith. The one that came with you ladies.”

“But . . . they hardly know each other.”

Linney shrugged. “I guess they know enough.” She leaned forward as if about to share a secret. “If you want to know what I think, I think it was
Davey
McDonald that made Mrs. Smith say yes. He needs a ma worse than anything, and he is awful cute. Mrs. Smith said it was love at first sight with her and Davey. Mr. McDonald telegraphed over to Cayote to have the circuit rider come here after he does all the weddings over there.”

“
All
the weddings?” Caroline said.

Linney nodded. “Uh-huh. Five so far. All on the Sabbath.”

I wonder if the sisters are getting hitched. I wonder if they’ll wear plaid.
Stifling a soft laugh at the idea, Caroline rolled the length of cloth up, tied it with a string, attached the paper with the measurement, and tossed it in the washtub. “Did you say Martha’s opening the store on Sunday?”

“I know. It’s the Lord’s Day. But Martha says the Lord will understand that folks need a store open when they come to town, and sometimes that’s Sunday.” Linney tilted her head. “Do you think she’s right? Will God understand that?”

Caroline didn’t feel qualified to speak for the Lord. She could just imagine Mother Jamison’s reaction. But then, Mother Jamison wasn’t someone Caroline had ever wanted to emulate. Martha, on the other hand, was exactly someone to admire. God had always seemed so far away, Caroline had never considered that he might have an opinion about things like running a store, much less “understand” a businesswoman’s decision about hours. She reached for another bolt of cloth.

“Not that one!” Linney snatched it away. She counted the folds along the end. “Martha would have my head. There’s still enough here for a dress.”

“But who would want to
wear
it?!” Caroline blurted it out before she thought, then forced a laugh as she pointed to the bright orange calico. “Can you imagine twenty-some yards of that sashaying down Main Street?” She shuddered.

Linney giggled. “Well, you do have a point.” She considered the fabric. “I think maybe the mill included it by accident.”

“Or to get rid of it, hoping no one would notice.”

Linney began to unwind it. “It wouldn’t be so awful . . . in little tiny pieces. Maybe in a patch quilt?”

“There’s no way to make that blend,” Caroline said. She pondered the rest of the cloth in the washtub. “But maybe . . . if a woman scattered it about . . . with some dark blue . . . then it might . . .” She searched for a word . . . “glow
.
Or glimmer?”

“Shimmer,” Linney said, savoring the word.

“Yes.” Caroline nodded. “That’s it. It will make your quilts shimmer
.
”

“We should make a sign. If Mrs. Bailey comes in and we can get her to use it and talk about it, the rest of the ladies who come to town will likely buy it all by day’s end. Everyone admires Mrs. Bailey’s quilts. And wouldn’t Martha be pleased if we sold all of it?”

The bell rang, announcing a customer. Linney looked up from her work and, with a squeal of delight, launched herself at the man who’d just come in the door. The man who’d rescued Caroline’s parasol . . . carried her into the Immigrant House when she twisted her ankle . . . and now stood with Linney on his arm . . . staring at Caroline with those blue eyes.

“It’s Mrs. Jamison, Pa. You remember her. From the dance.”

Caroline could feel herself blushing. “A-actually, Linney . . . I didn’t see your . . . pa. . . . I left when—”

“Oh . . . right. You left after Mr. Cooper escorted Lowell Day—” She cleared her throat. “Well . . .” Linney looped her arm through her handsome father’s. “This is my pa, Matthew Ransom.” She gazed up at him adoringly. “This is Mrs. Jamison, Pa. She’s one of the Emigration Society members who stayed here in Plum Grove. And they’re really staying. They’re getting homesteads!”

Beneath the gaze of those blue eyes, a self-conscious Caroline reverted to her upbringing and bent her knees in a little curtsey, even though it pained her ankle to do it. “How do, Mr. Ransom. Pleased to meet you.” She was aware that she grimaced and apologized. “I really am pleased . . . it’s just that my ankle still pains me some.”

“Pa-a,” Linney sang out, sounding embarrassed when he still didn’t speak.

Ransom started, then walked to where Caroline was standing beside the mercantile counter and held out his hand. “Excuse me, Mrs. Jamison. I’ve been out of proper society for so long, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten my manners.” When Caroline extended her own hand toward him, he bowed low and touched the back of her hand with his lips. Or his beard. Either way, it deepened Caroline’s blush.

Her heart hadn’t pounded this way since that day at Union Station. That had been fear. What was this?
You are losing your touch, Miss Caroline. The ladies of Mulberry Plantation—
well. Whatever it was they did in situations like this didn’t apply anyway, because now it was Caroline’s turn to stare as she realized all in a rush that the man who rescued parasols and such was the very same man about whom Martha and Will had despaired for so long. The one they said was doing better. The one who had abandoned a perfectly nice little homestead on account of his wife’s death. All of that flew through Caroline’s mind in such a rush, she had to ask Mr. Ransom to repeat whatever it was he had just said.

“I was wondering if you would mind watching over the store for a few minutes for Linney,” he said. “I’ve something I need to discuss with her. Something I intended to talk over last Friday.”

How she knew it Caroline could not say, but at that moment the thought flashed through her mind and then fixed there. Matthew Ransom had not yet told Linney he’d sold her birthplace. She looked away to keep from showing her disapproval. She could see the flash of dread in Linney’s eyes. The girl knew her father well. Caroline spoke, not to Matthew Ransom but to Linney. “I’ll be right here, honey. You take all the time you need.”

Martha returned to the store before Linney came back. Caroline told her what had happened—without her personal opinions attached as to a man’s being a coward to do something so monumental behind a child’s back—and then asked, as coolly as possible, “What is it exactly that Mr. Ransom does? Linney seemed surprised to see him.”

“Oh, Matthew traps. Trades. Hunts.” Martha frowned. “I can’t remember the last time he came into Plum Grove twice in one week. Did he say
why
he was in town?”

“Only that he needed to speak with Linney,” Caroline said. She bit her lower lip to keep from saying more and concentrated on tying the knot around a small roll of calico.

“By the way, that ‘shimmering’ idea is a good one.”

“It was as much Linney’s idea as it was mine.” The silence grew uncomfortable. Finally, Caroline spoke up. “This is none of my affair and I will say that for you. But the fact is, I like Linney.” She swallowed. “He came to town to tell her he’s sold her home, didn’t he? Without discussing it with her. He just went and did it.”

Martha gazed out the front store window. “I’m afraid so.” She sighed.

“Well,” Caroline said. “I can understand why he might not want to go on livin’ there. And I can even see his sellin’ it if he’s wantin’ to move forward. But not tellin’ Linney until it’s done? That is just downright cowardly.”

Martha sighed again. “You’re right. The thing is—Matthew would probably agree with you. That’s not who he is . . . who he was—” She broke off. Shook her head. “If you could have seen him with Katie.” Martha paused. “I am so sorry, Caroline. Now I’m the one who’s being insensitive. You know how Matthew feels much better than I ever could. You’ve been widowed, too. Again, I apologize.”

Caroline waved the apology away. “Marryin’ Basil was a childish act of defiance. My daddy said it was a stupid thing to do, and he was right. I may be a widow, but I’ve no idea what it’s like to have someone you deeply love die.” She faltered. “Which, I suppose, means I’ve got no right to say unkind things about Mr. Ransom behind his back.”

Martha didn’t speak to that. Instead, she spoke of Linney. “She likes you, and she’s getting to an age where a girl needs someone besides her mother—or the woman who raised her—to talk to.” She covered Caroline’s hand with her own and squeezed it, then went back to measuring calico, talking while she worked.

“Matthew and Katie had just set up camp on their claim when Will carried me across that threshold.” She nodded toward the mercantile doorway. “My, but they were a beautiful pair. Purely crazy over one another. Matthew had just finished the soddy you saw yesterday when his team bolted. The wagon overturned and they were all three thrown out. It’s a wonder they weren’t all killed.”

Caroline glanced up at Martha, who was standing still, gazing into the past as she murmured, “I’ll never forget it as long as I live. I was standing right behind this counter and Matthew came into the store. He looked like he’d been in a terrible fight. And he moved like he was a hundred years old. He’d been hurt in the accident, too, but he didn’t even seem to feel it. He had Linney by the hand and a little bundle tied up with her things in it. He picked her up and set her right here on this counter,” Martha said. “And all he said was ‘Katie’s gone, Martha. I lost her. And our baby.’ I didn’t even know Katie was expecting again. They hadn’t told anyone. He almost broke down when he said that, but he managed to ask me if I could keep Linney for him until he decided what to do.” Martha sighed as she returned to the moment, her gaze meeting Caroline’s. “That was nearly eight years ago.”

Just hearing the story opened up something deep inside Caroline. She thought of Hettie and the way she trembled when the subject of husbands came up. Poor Hettie couldn’t even talk about her husband without crying. Ruth made no secret of the fact that her General had been “the love of her life.” And now all of this about Matthew Ransom’s broken life. It shamed Caroline that all she felt about poor Basil’s being gone was relief
.

Martha sighed. “Linney’s grown up with Will and me just as much as her pa. But Matthew loves that girl. Oh, how he loves her. You call him a coward and maybe you’re right. Maybe there is cowardice in not telling her about selling the place. But it was no coward who brought me his little girl all those years ago. That was a man protecting his child from seeing what he might do or say while he grieved for Katie. He gave up everything when she died. Moved out of the house . . . just left it all the way it was. The last time I went with Linney to put flowers on her mother’s grave, the house hadn’t changed a bit. Katie’s needlework was still hanging above the front door.”

“Hope On, Hope Ever
,
”
Caroline murmured.

“That’s it. That’s the one.”

“Linney will be devastated.”

Martha nodded. “Yes. At first. But she’s also uncommonly wise for a child her age. And after she gets past being angry with him for the
way
it was done, I think she’ll see it as a sign he’s letting go of the past—in a good way. She dreams of keeping house for him. She’s even begged him to move to town. Maybe that’s going to happen.” Martha smiled. “Wouldn’t that be something. After all this time.”

Caroline finished tying up the last bundle of orange fabric. She carried the washtub full of remnants to the door and placed it right where a woman would see it the minute she set foot in the mercantile. She gestured to the tub. “I could make a sign.”