The Escape (4 page)

She lay back on the blanket with her hands over her belly.
I’m sorry, little one. My being upset can’t be doing you any good at all.

Tears burned her eyes, and she let them fall, unheeded. Fact was, she was attracted to Cole Bronson—although, he’d not given her one reason to like him. Was she so desperate? Had she missed a man’s touch so much? What was wrong with her?

Edmund, how I miss you. I’m here in this lonely place, missing you. And I can’t go back. I can’t go back to your brother—you know I can’t.

****

As the days passed, Betty and Lou worked out a kind of rhythm. Betty recovered from her journey enough to be of some help with the daily chores of keeping a farm running. Lou taught her to feed the chickens and gather eggs. She taught her to bake cornbread. She taught her to do the laundry—always on a Monday and always such an ordeal that Betty collapsed with fatigue at the end of the day. She was only grateful that Lou had the soap made and on hand.

One morning, the two of them took the kitchen chairs out to the porch and rested for a spell, sipping fresh milk.

“We need to make preparations for the baby,” Lou stated.

Betty took another drink of the cold, cream-rich milk. “I know.”

“We can go into town and buy some linen. I’ll help you make baby clothes. And diapers. We’ll need diapers.”

Betty gaped at Lou. “You sew? Goodness, is there anything you can’t do now?”

Lou laughed. “Not much at that. Out here, you either learn to do things or go without.”

“I’m handy with a needle, Lou. You don’t need to help me sew garments.”

“I don’t mind. Besides, if it turns out that I
am
with child, I’ll want
your
help.”

“Then, it’s a deal,” Betty responded. She took a deep breath of the morning air, catching a hint of a sweet, tangy fragrance in the air.

“Spring is my favorite time of year,” she said, surprised at how peaceful she felt sitting there on the porch.

“Always was,” Lou murmured.

“Yes. Always was.”

“It’s my first spring here,” Lou said. “Jude tells me it’s crucial to get the crops planted at the right moment.”

Betty sipped the milk and wiggled in her chair, adjusting herself to accommodate her growing weight. “Really? I thought spring itself was the right moment.”

“Oh no. It’s much more involved. Haven’t you read the
Farmer’s Almanac
?”

“The farmer’s what?”

“
Almanac
,” Lou answered and laughed. “Besides the Bible, it’s the only reading material we have. I was teasing—of course, you haven’t read it. I’ll let you peruse it later.”

Betty smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Lou stood. “All right. Enough idleness. Let’s go in to town.”

Betty got up. “I brought a bit of money with me. I can buy fabric with it.”

Lou nodded. “Then, let’s go.”

****

Betty was impressed by the way Lou handled the horse and wagon. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought Lou was raised in the west.

Lou obviously felt Betty watching her, for she gave Betty a playful nudge. “Soon, you’ll be driving a wagon with the best of us.” She offered Betty the reins. “You want to begin learning right now?”

Betty drew back. “No. No, that’s all right.” Since Edmund’s accident, she harbored more than a little discomfort around horses. If someone with Edmund’s skill could be killed, then where did that leave her—a novice?

Lou slapped the reins on the horse’s back. “How are you doing, Betty?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Betty answered, wondering at the question.

“No, I’m serious. How are you
really
doing?”

Betty felt the tiresome tears come once again to her eyes. She blinked them away. “I’m grateful to you and Jude.”

“I know you must miss Edmund terribly.” Lou blew out her breath.

“Did you miss him when you first arrived?”

Lou shifted her weight on the hard bench. “Of course. But not for long. He wasn’t my husband, Betty. I could never miss him like you do.”

Betty shook her head. “I guess not. And yes, I do miss him. So much.” She took a deep breath. “Have I done the right thing? Coming here?”

Lou patted her leg. “Of course. You could hardly marry that toad Garrett.”

Betty looked at her sister and saw the beginnings of a smile. She giggled. “You’re right. I could never marry that toad Garrett.”

They were still laughing when Lou pulled the wagon up to the mercantile. She secured the reins and both of them got down and entered the store. When the bell over the door jingled, a man with a stiff white apron approached them.

“Why, Miss Lou, how ya doin’?” his resonate voice vibrated.

“Hello Frank, I’m fine. And how are you?” Lou asked. “You remember my sister, Betty?”

“Shore do,” he said. “What can I do for ya both?”

“We’re here to look at your fabric.”

Frank gave Betty a kind once-over. “Needin’ some baby things, I reckon?”

“You reckon right,” Lou answered and chuckled.

“Come right this way.” He led Lou to the other side of the store, his footsteps creaking on the plank floor.

Betty started to follow but became distracted by a display of combs and brushes stuck between cans of baking powder and sacks of beans. The odd mix of items caught her imagination as she stared at a brush which boasted a porcelain handle. How could something so beautiful have ended up in such an out-of-the-way place? She reached out and ran her fingers lightly over the flowered design.

“Purty, ain’t it?” said a voice close to her ear.

She jumped and twisted around to face Cole. “Are you sneaking up on me?” she demanded, her mind racing to her dress and hair. Did she look all right? Had she fixed her hair before the trip in?

He chuckled. “Hardly. You was standing right there for anyone to see.” He reached around her and picked up the brush she’d been admiring. “Never saw one like this.” He turned the brush over a couple times and then looked at her. “You want it?”

She balked. “What?”

“Do you want it?”

She shook her head, flustered. “Why in the world do you want to know?”

He gave her a half-smile and carried the brush to the counter and laid it down. Betty watched him, completely confused and highly suspicious. What was he playing at?

She gave a soft huff and moved away to join her sister and the proprietor. Lou was fingering lengths of white fabric. Betty put her hand out and touched it, shocked by its stiffness. How could she put that next to her baby’s skin?

“It’ll soften after washing,” Lou whispered to her, seeming to read her mind.

Betty flushed, not wanting to appear spoiled.

“We’ll take six yards,” Lou told Frank, who nodded and got right to work measuring and cutting.

“I saw you talking to him,” Lou said quietly, looking over Betty’s shoulder and indicating Cole with a nod of her head. “What did he say?”

“Nothing of importance,” Betty mumbled, busying herself with a display of leather work gloves.

“Right,” Lou said.

The two of them followed Frank to the counter. Cole stood close by and watched Betty and Lou make the transaction.

Right away, Betty yanked her sister from the store without giving her a chance to chat with Cole. The last thing she wanted was to prolong an encounter with the man.

“What’s the rush?” Lou asked once outside the shop. She shook her arm from Betty’s grip. “I don’t get to town that often, and I like to take advantage of the visit.”

“Fine. But not with Cole Bronson.”

“You do realize you were going to marry the man.”

“I realize it just fine, thank you.” Betty climbed into the wagon and folded her hands tightly in her lap.

“Hold up,” Cole called, emerging from the mercantile. He strode around the wagon to Betty’s side and handed her a package, neatly tied with brown paper and string.

Betty ignored his offering, and Cole lay the present in her lap. His eyes dared her to refuse, and she found herself sputtering. “What are you doing?”

“You admired it. Now, it’s yours.”

“But why?” Betty felt the earth waver beneath her. Nothing about this man made sense. She watched his face cloud over as he stepped away from the wagon and stared at her.

Beside her, Lou cleared her throat. “Morning, Cole,” she said, her words quick. “Where’s Eve?”

Cole turned his gaze from Betty to Lou. He took off his hat and fingered the brim. “Morning, Lou. Eve begged to stay with Maeve.” He put his hat back on and drew it down, shading his eyes.

Betty wanted to reach out and adjust it so she could see his expression, then she bit her lip at such thoughts. The man had rejected her, and as ridiculous as it seemed, she’d been hurt by it. Her common sense told her that he hadn’t rejected
her
—he’d rejected the risk of losing a wife to childbirth again so soon.

Then why had it bothered her so much?

She was being illogical. And emotional.

Lou nudged her, bringing her back to the present. “Just so you know, Maeve is like everyone’s grandmother around here. Her husband runs the telegraph, the train depot, and sorts the mail. So, he’s the town’s best friend.”

Cole nodded his farewell and turned away.

“Good-bye, Cole,” Lou called after him.

He raised his hand but kept his back to them as he walked off.

“What’s in the package?” Lou asked.

“A hairbrush,” Betty mumbled, unable to pull her gaze from Cole’s solitary figure walking down the street.

“Hairbrush?”

Betty looked down at the wrapped parcel and untied the string. She peeled away the paper and held up the brush. The morning sun glinted off the white flowered handle making it glow.

“Oh, Betty,” Lou cried, taking the brush from her. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. It must have just come in.”

Betty placed the brush on her lap and stared at it. “But why, Lou? Why would he buy it for me?”

Lou put her arm around Betty and gave her a squeeze. “I guess he likes you.”

Betty stared into Lou’s eyes, working to stifle the hope that surged through her at Lou’s words. “No, he doesn’t.” She thrust the brush into the paper and folded the wrapping back around it. With shaking hands, she retied the string.

“Is it all right if we go home now?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

Lou gazed at her. “If you wish.”

Just as Lou slapped the reins to get the horse going, Betty heard someone running down the boardwalk, their shoes clapping the wood.

“Lou! Lou! Wait!”

Betty turned to see a young woman with flaming red hair rush toward them. Her smile was wide and excited, and she was waving. “Lou! Wait!”

“Della!” Lou cried. “I’m so glad to see you.” She pulled up on the reins and handed them to Betty. Then she slipped down from the wagon, ran to the woman, and grabbed her close in a hug.

Della pushed a wisp of hair from her face and looked at Betty with glowing hazel eyes. “You must be Betty.”

Betty found herself smiling back. “Yes, I am.”

“You must both come for coffee. I done made a loaf of bread, too.” Della reached up and patted Betty’s leg. “And it’s good.”

Her laughter rippled like a stream of water over rocks. “Dead serious, Lou. I made a good loaf of bread for once!”

“I have no doubt.” Lou laughed with her. She glanced up at Betty. “Can we spare the time?”

Betty nodded, and her mood lightened. “Of course.”

Della clapped. “Then it’s settled.” She climbed into the wagon and scrunched up against Betty. Betty giggled and made room. Lou hopped back up, took the reins, and they were off. They traveled down the road a short piece before stopping in front of a small house beside the church. It was surrounded by a freshly painted picket fence.

Betty’s eyebrows rose.

“I’m the preacher’s wife,” Della said. “We live mighty close to my husband’s work, as you can see. Come on in.”

The sisters followed Della into a cozy living room where a cushioned bench and two wooden chairs sat against the whitewashed walls. There was a small table in the middle of the room with a fluffy crocheted doily on it. A jar with fresh red and yellow wildflowers sat atop the doily.

“Sit on down, you two,” Della instructed them and then disappeared into a back room.

Betty sat on one of the wooden chairs and Lou sat on the other.

“Where’s the reverend?” Lou called through the door Della had just walked through.

“Out visiting. I think he’s ridden over to the Mayfields,” came Della’s slightly muffled answer.

Betty had never known any preacher to have such a vivacious and beautiful wife. In fact, all the preacher’s wives she’d known in Boston had been matronly and, if she was honest, downright stodgy. This woman was of a different breed entirely.