The Brides of Chance Collection Part 70

"How's Abigail Rucker doin' this fine spring day?" Miz Willow asked as soon as Hattie stepped inside.

"Restless as a racc.o.o.n in a river, but farin' well." Hattie smiled and brought out the envelope. "I've got sommat for you!"

A grin broke across the widow's face, deepening the lines given to her by years of honest living and laughter. "How nice. How 'bout you read it to me? It'd be good practice."

Hattie slid a finger beneath the corner of the delicate paper and lifted open the glued flap of the envelope. She pulled out the sheet of paper, unfolded it, and carefully shaped the words with her mouth as she read it aloud: Dear Miz Willomena and Hattie, Praise be that th' whooping cough has ended. I keep you in my prayers ev'ry day. Thankee for the valerian root you sent. Little Polly says it holped with 'er head poundin's. Yore so good to us.

Night past, we was talkin' 'bout how much Salt Lick Holler has sent down to Reliable, and we come ta the truth that we ain't returned the favor. Important as it is to keep strong ties with yore kin, we wish to rectify our negligence. (Lookie thar- Delilah learned me that word. Means we ain't been watchin' out like we should.) Hattie stumbled over the bigger words and sounded out the new one. "Well, live and learn. That thar's a fancy phrase."

The widow was obviously pleased with both her students-Lovejoy for making good use of her lessons, and Hattie for learning them.

"You want I should keep on?" Hattie wondered if Miz Willow would like to read the letter herself, seeing as how it was a real link between her and her friend. Letters were special, something to touch and still almost hear a voice, too.

"Please do."

Tempy an' Lois are expectin' again, so's none of us cain come down. 'Sides, we don't know what good could come a leavin' all the young'uns with Obie, Hezzie, and Mike. So's the best we cain send you is our love.

But Logan and Bryce Chance (Dan's least brothers) are fine young lads with G.o.d in thar hearts and adventure in thar eyes.

Hattie paused as she saw the next line, then kept on.

Iff 'n yore agreeable, they'd like to visit come end of spring thru summer. Bryce charms anything with fur or feathers, and Logan does better with folks with two legs. I was thinkin' they could sleep in yore barn, and in return for their keep, they'd be happy to holp any way they could-huntin', fis.h.i.+n', buildin', choppin', an' such.

Pray on it. You both have to be fine with it. I know Hattie's still a bonnie young la.s.sie, so's it may be awkwart ta have them around her. They're right respectful bucks, but none of ourn want to impose. All our love regardless of yore decision.

Forever yores,

Lovejoy Chance

"Well, I'll be." Miz Willow just rocked in her chair, looking thoughtful.

Hattie didn't venture much of an opinion but pointed out, "That's jist a few weeks from now, I'd imagine."

"True, true. We'd hafta git ready mighty quick." The widow caught her gaze. "Iff 'n you say it's fine by you."

Rather than just agree as the widow obviously wanted, Hattie thought about it for a minute. She'd gone through so much change in the last two years and finally settled here. She had everything she could want and praised G.o.d for it. Did she really want two young men stepping into their lives and setting the whole holler aflutter?

It wasn't her first choice, but then again, it wasn't her decision. It was Miz Willow's. Besides, there was plenty to keep her busy and out of their way.

"No skin off my nose, Miz Willow. I cain think on a few gals who'd be mighty pleased to hear 'bout two new fellas comin' for a visit."

Widow Hendrick nodded. "And I know Silk Trevor will want ta know the type of folks who've taken her nieces into their family. Come to think on it, so do I." She rocked a bit more and reached for a pencil and paper. "So do I."

The barbed wire bit through the tough leather the moment Logan looked away. He tugged the glove off with his teeth and sucked on his finger 'til the bleeding stopped, then kept right on mending the fence.

Served him right for daydreaming on the job. He'd been wondering what the mountains were like, whether the train would feel as quick as a fast gallop, if all the folks in Salt Lick Holler would sound like Lovejoy-gentle and kind of musical. What did the men do to pa.s.s the time? How did everyone make a living?

He'd know the answers soon enough, but for now he needed to keep his thoughts on the work at hand. Otherwise he'd end up like Paul-everyone knew back in his courting days that he'd fallen off his horse and broken his arm because he was busy thinking about Delilah. Well, at least I'm not being distracted over a woman.

He heard Bryce coming before he saw the horse and winced. They'd started in the middle, and both were supposed to reinforce two miles' worth of the safeguard. Logan blamed his slow pace on his oft-p.r.i.c.ked fingers.

Bryce swung out of the saddle and came over to help him finish up. They worked side by side until the job was done. Not a word pa.s.sed between them. After they finished, they sat and guzzled some lukewarm water from their canteens.

"How long you gonna be mad at me for something I had no control over?" Logan decided it was time to clear the air. Bryce had been even quieter than usual the past month-ever since the Chance clan had decided they'd both go to Salt Lick Holler if the Widow Hendrick and Hattie Thales let them.

Bryce blinked, then drew his bandanna across his forehead. "I'm not mad at you, Logan."

"Then why've you been so all-fired quiet lately?"

"I've never been much of a talker. You know that."

"But you always talked to me." Logan grumbled this, not wanting to sound too whiny.

"What's done is done, little brother." Bryce slugged him on the shoulder. "It's not what either of us thought it'd be, but I won't be the hitch in your plans."

"Thanks." Logan's voice went gruff as he thought about how his brother was willing to take this trip for him, even though Bryce would always be happy to stay at home- well, in the barn, anyway. "I'm glad that's settled." He got up and dusted off his seat.

"Who says it's settled?" Bryce grinned as they went back for their horses. "Maybe they won't want us."

"Now why would you say something that crazy?" Logan grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Who wouldn't want us?"

Chapter 4.

Dear Lovejoy and Chance Family,

Sorry bout my writin-I'm new at it but Miz Willow says I don't git nough times to practice, so here goes.

We're glad the valerian roots holped Miss Polly's head and have sent more along with some rusty rye. Already used some of this batch last year on one of Silk Trevor's daughters-Katherine. She's delivered of a healthy son an she says to make sh.o.r.e I tole you to tell Obadiah MacPherson she's named her chile after him. She says Hezzie and Mike 're next since she's done run outta names from her man's kin.

Everyone's all aflutter here bouts since we tole em how Logan and Bryce'll be comin. We figgur iff 'n y'all write back rite quick we'll know they're comin bout a week afore they git here in the end of May. Sowry we cain't offer nuthin better'n a barn for 'em, but I'll clean out the loft and make it as nice as I cain. Miz Willow reckons a barn were good nuff for Jesus Hisself so it'll do jist fine.

We cain't hardly wait to meet you boys! Everyone's excited. The mensfolk plan on takin you hunting and the women want to have a doin's to celebrate yore arrival, but Widow Hendrick tole em they'd hafta wait til yore a bit more settled.

G.o.d be with you all.

Truly Yores,

Hattie Thales and Willomena Hendrick

Logan gave a whoop as Lovejoy finished reading the news, then reached for the letter. He reread it quickly and gave a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

Lord, it wasn't easy coming to this decision, much less convincing the others to support it. You've warned that the road we are to follow is narrow and hard, not simple. But now my journey begins, and I ask for Your continued guidance so that I follow Your will. I pray I'll be of use to the folks in Salt Lick Holler so this journey is fruitful. Amen.

"Perfect. This is going to be so much fun." He slapped Bryce on the back. "They even want to throw us a s.h.i.+ndig."

"Now you know they haven't met us." Bryce's grin belied the words.

"They will soon enough."

Hattie eyed the lopsided old ladder with misgiving. The rest of the barn had been kept up well, but the loft hadn't been used in a c.o.o.n's age. She'd been working at the building steadily since they'd received Lovejoy's letter. She'd swept, scrubbed, laid fresh hay, and was running out of other things to tackle.

Today she'd moved the few critters left-the milk cow and old mule-over to the farthest stalls so they wouldn't be scared by the men moving around above. Now there was nothing to do but to ready the loft itself. Hattie had never been fond of climbing, and the way the boards for the ladder's rungs were nailed down all c.o.c.keyed didn't much help the matter.

She took in a deep breath and chided herself. How're ya ever gonna make it to the heights of heaven iff 'n yore afeared of a plain ole loft, Hattie Thales?

With that, she twitched her skirts, steadied the ladder, and started up. Eleven rungs later, she planted her feet on the wooden floor and looked around. It was clear not a soul had been up here in years. Dirt caked the walls and the sloping roof. Moldy hay littered the floor in knee-high clumps decorated with bits of old twine.

Cleaning the barn first had been a mistake. Once she pushed this mess over the ledge, she'd have to redo most of what she thought she'd already finished. After grabbing a dusty pitchfork leaning against the far wall, she started hefting the hay. Finally about done, she heard the pitchfork thunk on something solid. Hattie cleared the rest of the gunk from around the object-a still-st.u.r.dy bench with a fair-sized trunk stuck beneath it.

Hattie glanced down before dropping the pitchfork off the loft and had to close her eyes for a moment before turning back to the matter at hand. She wrestled the trunk away from the wall and apart from the bench. It was heavier than she'd thought it would be, and she hesitated before opening it. Should she ask Miz Willow before she stuck her nose in?

She could, but that would mean an extra trip up and down the ladder. Besides, Miz Willow had already told her just to throw away anything she found up there unless it could be put to good use. Rea.s.sured, she pried open the cracked leather straps and lifted the lid. Two old blankets took up most of the room, and she pulled them out. They were clean, and once she aired them out, they'd be good to make up pallets. Beneath them she found a ball of twine and a small folding knife. She pulled out a bag and a carved wooden box, deciding not to open these without Miz Willow.

She laid the blankets on the bench, put the knife and twine in her pocket, looped the string of the bag over her wrist, and clasped the box under one arm before slowly stepping down the ladder. With her feet firmly on solid ground, she put everything down. She tossed a straw broom up into the loft, wound some of the twine around her waist to tuck in a few cleaning rags, and made her way back up the ladder.

She got to sweeping and scrubbing everything in sight, then grabbed the blankets and descended from the loft for the last time that day.

The sun was setting by the time she'd cleaned up the mess left on the barn floor and aired out the blankets. She dusted most of the dirt off her hem before going to the house. As she walked through the door, the warmth of simmering stew made her stomach growl.

"Smells good in here, Miz Willow." Hattie placed the burlap bag and wooden box she'd found on the table. This was part of the reason she loved living with the old woman-they cared for each other and shared the cooking and cleaning. Not to mention that having a healer's knowledge of yarbs made ordinary dishes full of flavor.

"Thankee kindly. Since you missed yore dinner workin' in that ole barn, I figured you could use sommat to stick to yore ribs. Got biscuits waitin' in the kettle oven, too." The widow began ladling dinner into two wooden bowls while Hattie dusted ash off the Dutch oven, lifted the lid, and took out the biscuits.

"Sh.o.r.e right 'bout that." She nudged Miz Willow's chair closer to the table before taking her own seat. "Would you like to pray?" Hattie bowed her head at Miz Willow's nod.

"Good Lord up above, we come to thank You for the bounty on this table and in our hearts. Thankee for my Hattie who done brought this ole woman so much joy. She and Lovejoy is like the daughters I niver had. We ask for safe travelin' for our visitors from Californy an' hope all goes accordin' to Yore will. Amen."

A comfortable silence filled the room as they ate their fill of the hearty stew and honey-drizzled biscuits. Hattie leaned back and patted her full stomach.

"That was a meal fit for a queen, Miz Willow."

"I allays was partial to possum, myself, but this were a mighty tasty squirrel in our pot tonight." The widow picked her teeth with a sharpened twig, then used it to gesture to the far end of the table. "What've you got there?"

"I don't know. They was in the trunk I found in the loft. I didn't feel right openin' 'em without yore blessing." Hattie brought over the bag and box and set them before the older woman.

"Right thoughtful of you, Hattie." She stared at the objects for a long moment before adding, "But they ain't none of mine. This was Lovejoy's house with her first husband. She invited me into her home after that husband of hers pa.s.sed on." The widow's mouth puckered as it always did when she thought of Lovejoy's first husband.

Hattie didn't know much about Vern Spencer. He'd left the holler an awful lot, always coming back with things to trade-usually sugar for Lovejoy's father's still. He trapped a lot, most often coming in from the woods with a few poor critters strung up, but he must not have sold their pelts for much, because he and Lovejoy hadn't lived high on the hog. No one ever talked about it, but folks knew he'd done his wife wrong and fathered a string of babes with other women.

"Should we jist send this stuff on down to Reliable without openin' 'em?" Hattie pushed aside her curiosity.

"Seems a risky thing to do-iff 'n you don't know what yore a-sendin', you'll niver know iff 'n it arrived." Miz Willow leaned forward. "We could write Lovejoy an' ask her what she wants done."

"But iff 'n she don' know what's in 'em, neither?" Hattie prompted, running her fingers over the carved wood.

"Reckon that might be a bother. Let's us open 'em an' then decide whether whatever it is be worth the trouble." Miz Willow reached over and undid the drawstring on the small sack. A handful of braided leather ties spilled out onto the table.

"Those'll come in right useful here'bouts." Hattie gestured toward the storeroom.

"Right you are, Hattie. Ain't nothin' important to write Lovejoy about." Her lively blue eyes fixed on the box. "That's a purty piece for sh.o.r.e. Cain't imagine she'd leave it behind."

"She didn't know she wasn't comin' back when she left," Hattie offered, tracing the swirling design with one forefinger. It looked to be the work of a master craftsman.

"True, but iff 'n it were close to her heart, I figgur she woulda asked for it to be sent. Go on ahead an' open it, dearie." She craned her neck as Hattie flipped the latch to lift the lid.

"Mercy," Hattie breathed as a pile of golden coins came into view. She pushed the treasure trove toward the widow.

"Well, I'll be," Miz Willow declared. "Cain't think Lovejoy even knew 'bout it. She wasn't one to set on sommat as could holp others so much. You'd best fetch me pencil and paper, Hattie. This is worth more'n any letter I cain write."

Logan inched toward the door, hoping that no one would notice. His hand closed around the handle, the sliver of sunlight he exposed welcoming him outside.

"Logan!" He winced at Lovejoy's voice. "Where'd you put that sack of slippery elm I handed you?"

Wistfully he shut the door. Obviously he wasn't going anywhere, certainly not today. He cast a glance around the unusually cluttered main cabin and rea.s.sessed. If the women couldn't get everything together, he and Bryce wouldn't be leaving for Salt Lick Holler tomorrow, either.

"The brown bag about so big." Lovejoy motioned with her hands before rus.h.i.+ng past him. "Here it is!" She s.n.a.t.c.hed one of a pile of bags and waved it triumphantly.

Logan quelled the urge to groan aloud. He and Bryce were packed and ready to go with one saddlebag apiece to hold two pairs of britches and three fresh s.h.i.+rts. They'd be wearing everything else they'd need, and the horses would go on a stock car. It should have been light traveling, but Lovejoy and his other softhearted sisters-in-law had other plans.

He, Bryce, Gideon, and Mike had ridden down to White's Mercantile with all the MacPherson and Chance women yesterday-and walked out with near half of it. Material, bandages, sacks, needles, knives, a teakettle, candy, leather, buckles, Frenchmilled soap, cotton batting, wool blankets, a magnifying gla.s.s, razors and strops, fis.h.i.+ng hooks, bandannas, brushes, hairpins, two shawls, chalk, ribbons, stockings, and pocketknives. Every bit of it was supposed to go with him and Bryce to the holler, along with the quilts and hooded cloaks the girls had all been st.i.tching furiously since the decision had been made.