The Brides of Chance Collection (52 page)

“Sweetest li’l thangs ya could ever hope ta see. Only saw ’em onc’t, though.”

“Are they nice?” Ginny Mae asked, obviously concerned with issues more important than physical beauty.

“O’ course, li’l missy. Their uncle raised coon dogs. That’s how we met ’em, gettin’ ole Bear. Right fine animal—worth the trip down ta the holler, let me tell you.” Obie was clearly lost in his memories.

“If they have a way with animals, there’s somethin’ good inside them.” Bryce nodded his approval.

“Shore as shootin’,” Hezzy agreed. “Critters always know. ’Course, some critters are best in a pot.”

“They made a fine mess o’ squirrel stew. Made the meat so nice it almost tasted like possum.” Obie took a swig of water.

“How come you didn’t marry them?” Polly asked with a bluntness only a child could display.

“Aw, didn’t have nothin’ ta offer two fine wimmen like them,” Hezzy explained. “That’s why we’uns come here—ta make somethin’ o’ ourselves.”

“And we done it.” Mike leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now we gots us a spread o’ good land and cattle.”

“How many Trevor sisters are there?” Paul asked Mike.

“Cain’t say. I ain’t never seen ’em,” Mike scoffed.

“Two,” Obie supplied.

“Anybody you liked better?” Daniel shot Paul a conspiratorial glance.

“Aw, I don’ know.”

Delilah was surprised to see the tips of Mike’s ears turn red.

“Come on, we’re all friends here,” Miriam encouraged.

“Well, I suppose I’ve gotta soft spot for Miss Temperance. Her sister was the healer, and she’d come ta help Ma. Tempy would cook for us or sing to Ma ta pass the time. Smart, too. Got a good head on her shoulders.”

“You’ve done well for yourselves,” Paul joined in. “Why don’t you write to them?”

“Mike’s the only one as cain write any,” Obie pointed out.

“ ’Sides,” Hezzy joined in, “they cain’t read anywho.”

“Tempy can,” Mike said softly. “ ’Sides, askin’ a woman to travel away from her kin has ta be done proper-like. I cain’t do that good.”

His simple answer tugged at Delilah’s heart. Mike obviously held Tempy in high esteem. These were good men, and they deserved good women.
Maybe I can help
.

“How about if I helped you write the letter? You just tell me what you want said.”

“Hey, what about our’n?” Obie jabbed a thumb to indicate Hezzy.

“Well…” Delilah thought a moment.

“Couldn’t we send it to Tempy and ask her to pass along the message?” Paul suggested.

“I reckon that jist might work.” After a long silence in which both brothers thought so hard they looked strained, Obie agreed. “Mike?”

“It bears thinkin’ on.” Mike didn’t say yes but seemed to be giving the idea serious consideration. “Are the both of ya set on those gals?”

“As the sun goes down of a mornin’,” came Hezzy’s solemn vow.

“The sun comes up in the mornin’, but I know whatcha mean,” Mike allowed. “Which one do ya each fancy?”

Obie and Hezzy stared at each other for a long minute. “Don’t recollect their names, Mike.”

“Eunice and Lois,” Hezzy said.

“Oh, yeah. Tha’ sounds ’bout right. Ya got a pref ’rence, Hezzy?” Obie generously inquired.

“Not sure I could tell the two apart, come ta thunk on it.” Hezzy looked at Delilah. “That gonna be a problem?”

“Um…” She seriously wondered whether or not this would work. “I suppose if we worded it right, we could just say you two remember them fondly and would be honored if they’d come and join you in the hopes of matrimony.”

“That do sound purty as a poem. D’ya reckon it’d work?” Hezzy beseeched Mike.

“No harm in tryin’.” Mike sighed.

“Well, why don’t you all think about what you’d like to say? If they’re coming, we need to send for them soon enough so they can arrive before winter. Try to make it as personal as you can, and we’ll write it up after you’ve had a chance to think on it.”

“And pray!” Ginny Mae piped up. “Auntie Miri-Em always says to think and pray.”

“All right. We’ll see you later.”

Delilah couldn’t help but notice the air of excitement surrounding the MacPhersons as they took their leave. In hopes of avoiding their courting, she’d promised to do her best to snag them other women.
What have I gotten myself into?

“Hang on, we’re comin’!” Paul buttoned his shirt and beat Daniel to the door, which he swung open. Miriam faced him, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“What’s wrong?” Panic surged through Paul’s veins. Miriam wouldn’t bother them in the morning unless it was something important.

“Today’s Delilah’s birthday! I forgot until last night when I was writing in my diary, and I saw that I’d marked the date.”

Relief washed over him, only to be followed by an unsettled feeling as his stomach clenched. He had nothing to give the woman he hoped to wed. Even the MacPhersons had managed to give her something!

“Exactly.” Miriam nodded her approval. “So here’s what we’re going to do….”

“Can we have carrot sticks on our picnic, Auntie Lilah?” Ginny Mae tugged on her skirts. “I likes carrot sticks.”

Delilah smiled as she wrapped the carrots in a cloth and placed them in a basket. Miriam was so thoughtful to suggest a picnic lunch today. She and Paul would take the girls out for fun and perhaps even a sketching lesson for Polly. Delilah might sketch something worth turning into a painting.

“All right. Have you got Dolly?” Ginny Mae ran to the table, grabbed her dolly off the bench, and clutched it to her chest.

“Uh-huh. And Auntie Miri-Em gots an old blankie.” The toddler gave a short hop of excitement. “Can we goes now?”

Delilah held Ginny Mae’s hand and grabbed the basket. “Let’s go!”

Outside, Paul stood by the wagon, where Polly nestled atop the folded old quilt. “Ready?”

Paul helped Delilah and Ginny Mae scramble into the back of the wagon, then took the seat. He’d reassured them he could handle one horse for a short ride without any problems.

He was as good as his word, pulling up under a stand of trees with just enough leaves to offer some shade. They spread out the blanket as Paul tied the horse’s reins loosely around a tree.

The girls ran and twirled around for a while.

“It’s a lovely day,” he commented. “We’ve got everything we need. Good company, sunshine, shade, and a nice view.” His gaze rested on Delilah.

“And clouds! I like clouds!” Polly pointed at the sky.

“That one,” Delilah joined in, “could be a little castle, like in fairy tales. See the tower?”

“Oooh,” Polly breathed. “I wish our house looked like that!”

“Hmmm…” Paul stroked his chin. “That one’s white, fluffy, round….I’d say it looks like a biscuit to me!”

“Yummy!” Ginny Mae clapped.

“Can we have some now?” Polly pleaded.

“Well, I don’t see why not. What’ve you got in that basket, Delilah?”

“Carrot sticks.” Ginny Mae imparted her wisdom, presenting her treasure with a flourish.

Delilah smiled as the little girl began passing out the carrot sticks. She pulled out a canteen of iced tea, some cold chicken, a wedge of cheese, and some of those renowned biscuits.

She and Paul helped Polly and Ginny Mae make sandwiches, and they all munched happily. After lunch, Delilah pulled out her sketchbook and pencil.

“What’re you doing?” Polly scooted over to take a look.

“Drawing that hill over there with the trees.”

Polly watched in fascination as the lines became tree trunks and grass. “Why are you only coloring in part of it?”

“It’s called shading. It’s to show where the light was, so when I paint over it, I get the colors right.”

“That’s pretty.” Polly stood up and walked over to a tree with lots of branches. Reaching up, she grabbed a branch and stuck her foot into a knothole, hoisting herself onto the lowest level. “See? I like trees!” She stretched for the next branch.

“No higher, Polly,” Paul admonished.

Privately, Delilah thought even that low branch, close to the ground as it rested, was already too high.

With a gamine grin, Polly scrambled up, only to shriek as Paul grabbed her with his good arm and swung her down.

“That was fun!” She giggled.

“Was it worth disobeying?”

Her smile faded at Paul’s tone. “Sorry, Unca Paul.” She buried her face in his shoulder.

“You know better. Now you won’t get to share some of that apple pie I saw in our picnic basket.”

Her head jerked up, and her lower lip quivered. “But I like apple pie,” she wailed.

“You’ll remember to listen to your elders next time, though. Now go on and play with Ginny Mae.” Paul set her down and patted her on the back.

Polly threw one last yearning look at the picnic basket, then trundled off to chase a butterfly with Ginny Mae.

He’ll be a wonderful father. Gentle with the girls, but firm in discipline
.

He plunked down next to Delilah and tugged the sketchbook out of her hands. He studied the drawing, then the landscape, then held the sketchbook up and squinted. Delilah’s heart thumped as she waited for his opinion.

Paul studied the sketch in silence.
How can black and white seem so lifelike? Why does everything she touches gain beauty?

“If this one weren’t in black and white, it’d be just like looking out a window. It’s that true to the land. God’s given you quite a gift, Delilah.”

Her cheeks grew rosy at his praise. “I don’t know about that. I draw and paint because I remember Mama teaching me how. When it comes down to it, though, I didn’t make the trees or the sky. I enjoy their beauty enough to copy them. This is just an imitation.” She tapped the sketch.

“It’s wonderful, and I think God will look upon it as a compliment.” Paul meant every word. It was a shame she didn’t see it that way yet, because her art was an eloquent form of praise.

“Do you have to bring God into everything?” Disappointment clouded her amber eyes.

How do I answer her, Lord? Please give me the words
.

“I don’t bring Him into anything, Delilah. His hand created all you see before you. All that is beautiful comes from Him.”

She was silent for a while; the only sounds were the girls’ giggles as they rolled down one of the smaller hills.

“Maybe.” Delilah stood up. “We ought to be getting back. Polly! Ginny Mae! Come on back!” Keeping her back to him, she gathered and folded the quilt, placing it and the basket in the buckboard.

Lord, will she ever accept You? Or me?

Chapter 12

P
aul’s the best man I’ve ever met—and we’re too different to be together. He bases his entire life on something he can’t see or touch
. Delilah’s frustrated thoughts bounced around as much as the buckboard did on the bumpy road they took to return to the ranch.

She put her arm around Polly and snuggled the five-year-old to her side. Ginny Mae crawled into Delilah’s lap and fought to keep her eyes open as the wagon swayed over the path. How could anyone not see how precious children and security were? Delilah, for one, intended to make them her priority for every minute she spent at Chance Ranch.

They pulled up to the barn. Delilah cuddled Ginny Mae in the bed of the buckboard as Paul took care of the horse, then helped her out of the wagon before scooping Polly into his arm. It seemed as though he wanted to say something, but he turned away.