Hope (22 page)

He leaned closer. “Which box, Miss Gonzales?”

“Am I to assume you’d like to spend the evening with me, or is your query merely curiosity?”

He was a little taken aback by her directness, but he liked it. “What if I said I wanted to have supper with you at any cost?”

The fan ceased its movement.

“Then I would say, yellow is my favorite color, and the daisy looks especially inviting.”

John’s gaze quickly scanned the table. A large woven basket, wrapped in a blue-checked cloth secured with a wide yellow ribbon holding a clutch of daisies to the handle, presided at the end of the table.

“Isn’t that a coincidence? I’m rather partial to yellow myself. And I’ve always had a deep appreciation for daisies.”

“Amazing coincidence,” she murmured, her gaze capturing his over the open fan she now held to her cheek.

“. . . and the red-ribbon box goes to Jefferson Mason. Jeff, better hope Miranda put that supper together.”

Laughter rewarded Fred as Veda pushed the yellow-ribboned basket containing Ginger’s contribution to the edge of the table. She located John in the crowd and pointed to the offering. Pearl Eddings yelled out.

“No fair, Veda Fletcher!”

“Now here’s a fine box. Yellow ribbon, daisies.” Fred leaned over to sniff. “And unless my nose is wrong, there’s fried chicken in there.” He sniffed again. “And chocolate cake.”

The crowd laughed. Fred couldn’t smell a skunk if it sprayed him.

“Chicken?” John mused softly. “Let me see. Do I want chicken, or should I hold out for a box with roast beef?”

“Fried chicken, best around.” Ginger edged closer. “And biscuits and honey, fresh butter, and some of Aunt Veda’s special sweet pickles.”

Well, Veda could make a mean pickle. John never doubted that.

“Pickles.” He swooned, his hand over his heart in mock seriousness. He winked. “And chocolate cake?”

“Apple pie with cheese.”

“Ah, a woman with superb taste.” He raised his hand. “Five dollars for the yellow-ribboned basket.”

“Five dollars from John Jacobs, mercy me! Do I hear five and a quarter?”

“Five and a quarter,” someone shouted from the back of the room.

Ginger was watching from the corner of her eye, resting the fan against her cheek.

“Five-fifty,” John bid, hoping he had enough money in his pocket.

“Do I hear five seventy-five?” Fred asked expectantly. “I’ve got five-fifty; do I hear five seventy-five?”

John held his breath.

“Five seventy-five!” someone yelled from the back of the room.

“Six,” Ginger urged from behind the fan. “I’ll chip in the extra twenty-five cents.”

“Seven-fifty!” John yelled, then leaned over to whisper. “Keep your money. I’ll pay fifty if I have to.”

“Seven-fifty! Sold to John Jacobs for seven dollars and fifty cents! Come claim your supper, John.”

John parted his way through the crowd, accepting congratulations as he reached up to take possession of the basket.

Veda looked unforgivably smug. “Enjoy your meal, John.”

Handing over the money, he threaded his way back to Ginger. But she wasn’t there. His eyes frantically searched the room before he detected a movement toward the back door. Hurrying in that direction, he was relieved to see Ginger casually strolling across the yard to the wall where he’d made such a fool of himself earlier.

He shot out the door and followed her.

“I thought we could picnic out here,” Ginger said as he caught up.

“A perfect place,” he agreed.

Ginger untied the ribbon and loosened the checked cloth, then spread it across the top of the stone ledge. Handing John the daisies, she opened the basket. The tantalizing aroma of fried chicken wafted upward, and John smiled.

“You are a temptress,” he accused.

Ginger laughed, and the charming sound coursed through John’s veins like wildfire.

“Biscuits, chicken, Aunt Veda’s pickles, baked beans with sorghum, apple pie.”

John reached to help extract a round plate. Their hands touched, and he felt as if he’d been hit by lightning.

“And cheese.” Their eyes met and held in the moonlight. “A beautiful woman, a warm spring night. Life is good.”

“You’re a romantic, John Jacobs.”

“I like to think so, Miss Gonzales.”

Later, they packed the remnants of the meal back into the basket, and John escorted Ginger back into the school building. Excusing herself, Ginger went to gather her things.

“There you are! Yoo-hoo, John!” Veda stood on tiptoe, vying for his attention. “How was the meal?”

Striding toward her, John reached out to take her pudgy hand in his. “Mrs. Fletcher, I owe you my heartfelt apologies.”

Veda blushed prettily. “What on earth for?”

“Because you tried to tell me how completely lovely your niece was, and I was reluctant to take your word.” He leaned close and whispered into her ear, “Indulgent aunts and parents tend to be a bit prejudiced, you know.”

Veda tittered. “I was so pleased when you bid on Ginger’s basket,” she confessed. “And I didn’t even have to tell you which one it was. Could this mean you no longer consider yourself engaged? Have you finally come to your senses and realized Miss Kallahan isn’t coming?”

He hadn’t thought that far yet, but he supposed he must. And soon. He couldn’t go on this way forever. Hope wasn’t coming; he’d only been fooling himself. As bad as he hated to admit it, she’d stood him up.

“I’d rather your niece doesn’t know anything about my engagement until I think it through.”

“Of course, but, John—” Veda squeezed his hand affectionately—“I only want the best for you. I know you’ve thought me pushy and overbearing at times, always on you to meet my niece, and I admit I’ve been overly anxious. I’m a selfish woman. I want you in the family. You’re a fine man, and my niece couldn’t be more blessed were the two of you to fall in love.”

John’s gaze located Ginger across the room. She was chatting with Idella Merriweather, her animated laughter drifting to him. Three hours ago he would have found Veda’s thoughts ludicrous. At the moment they didn’t seem at all out of place.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to walk Ginger and you home.”

“Of course, dear. And you can take your time. It’s a lovely night. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Veda zeroed in on Pearl Eddings. “Oh, Pearl!” she warbled. “Wait up. I have something to tell you.”

Chapter Thirteen

The old mule, Cinder, was a pest. The cantankerous beast of burden nipped at Dan’s dangling legs with its big teeth, making a real nuisance of herself.

“If we didn’t need the transportation so badly, I’d shoot this thing!” Dan groused, swatting the critter’s rump when she bit him a third time.

Even Hope’s newfound positive attitude was flagging. She was beginning to feel as if everything was against her, even the mule. What had her life become? What would Aunt Thalia think if she could see her now—riding a mule, wearing Letty’s ridiculous-looking straw hat?

But no matter. She would be in Medford before much longer, and her troubles would be over. By this time next week, she would be serving John Jacobs dinner.

The thought didn’t do much to lift her spirits.

She spent the day trying to revel in her final hours of freedom, glorying in the spring flowers blooming along the hillsides, the call of meadowlarks, and the occasional glimpse of a deer through the thick foliage. She sang songs, inviting Dan to join in. To her delight, he did, his rich baritone blending harmoniously with her alto as they rode through the greening countryside.

Hope waved to occasional passersby, though Dan barely noticed them. He seemed preoccupied, deep in thought. Hope wondered if his thoughts included her. At times, she was certain that he was attracted to her; but at others she realized he was a man with a duty and she was only a part of that duty.

Her feelings for Dan had deepened with lightning swiftness. During the idyllic days at Letty’s, they had been inseparable, working side by side during the day, talking late into the night over popcorn and sugared tea at the table while Letty snored in her bed.

Yet at other times, they seemed continents apart.

She knew what her problem was—love. But other than the one time at the smokehouse, she’d fought the feeling because there was John to consider.

There was always John.

Her resentment bloomed. What sort of man put an ad for a wife in a journal, anyway? How could she possibly explain to her husband-to-be everything that had happened to her since she’d kissed Aunt Thalia good-bye and boarded the stage in Cold Water?

Had that been almost two months ago? She’d lost track of time.

Would John believe that Dan had been only her protector? Or would he have qualms about her respectability, requesting that she leave? Her spirits lifted at the prospect, then plummeted back to earth. John Jacobs was an honorable man. If he had misgivings about her reputation, she doubted that he would openly voice them.

If God had put these trials upon her to test her faith, then she had most certainly failed. She wasn’t even sure God loved her. How could she believe this man she didn’t know but was consigned to marry could love her?

“Muddy Flats straight ahead.” Dan indicated the silhouette of buildings against the distant horizon.

A few miles back, a passerby had told them the small crossroads settlement had a general store. Letty had insisted that they take fifteen dollars for necessities. Dan assured her the money would be repaid the moment he contacted his commander. When they reached Muddy Flats, they would have to purchase food. The sandwiches would last for one more meal.

“If only there was time to buy a dress that fits me.” She lifted the baggy waist of the dress Letty had given her. It was going to be embarrassing to meet John looking like a beggar. “And a bath would be nice.”

“We’ll see if the town can accommodate your wishes, miss.”

“A bath isn’t a necessity,” she reminded him. “But it sure would be nice.”

Dan’s hand rested on hers for a brief moment. The artless touch set her heart rate into double time. “We’ll make you presentable to meet John. Another couple of hours isn’t going to make a difference. You can buy a pretty dress and have a long soak in a hot tub. Come to think about it, a bath sounds good. We’ll each have one.”

Hope felt like she was going to explode with all the emotions boiling up inside her. “Thank you.” She squeezed his waist, and he squeezed her hand back.

Muddy Flats wasn’t large, but Hope was happy to see a mercantile, a small livery, a saloon, a blacksmith, and a boardinghouse that promised bathing facilities.

“We might even stay the night,” Dan decided as they rode the mule down Main Street. “Probably do you good to sleep in your own bed, stay in your own room for the first time in weeks. We can start out early in the morning, be in Medford by noon. What would you say to that?”

“Sleep in a clean bed with real sheets? I’d say yes!”

“I’ll leave you at the mercantile. You pick out a pretty dress and buy some matching shoes. I want John Jacobs’s bride to be the talk of the town.”

She did too; she just wished she wasn’t that bride. She poked her foot out and studied her once-fashionable foot attire. During the weeks since she’d left Michigan, she’d plowed through wet grass, forded streams, and walked untold miles. Her shoes weren’t a pretty sight.

“What will you do while I shop?”

“I’m going to sell this ornery critter. Or bury it.” He jumped when the mule turned, trying to take a chunk out of his leg. He boxed the animal’s ears. “Either way, Lucifer here and I are parting company.”

Dan stopped the animal in front of the mercantile, and Hope slid off the mule’s back. “Stay out of trouble.” He winked at her.

“I’ll try.” It was her heart, not her feet, that needed to stay out of trouble.

She felt like a street urchin as she opened the door to the mercantile and stepped inside.

“Afternoon!” A short, round older man behind the counter greeted her, his gaze sweeping her appearance.

“I need a new dress,” she explained.

The clerk’s mouth turned up in a half smile. “That right? Right pert hat you’ve got there.”

“Well,” she admitted, “it keeps the sun off, thank you.”

“I see that. Hiram Burk, clerk, at your service.”

“Hope Kallahan, battered traveler, at yours.” She extended a soiled hand and they shook.

“I suppose you’d like to look at some ready-mades?”

“Yes, and shoes. Comfortable ones—inexpensive, comfortable ones. I don’t have much money.”

She had no idea what a mule would bring. Not much, she ventured to guess, and they would need all they could get to buy a horse to replace it. She needed to be thrifty, even though they also had Letty’s fifteen dollars.

“Dresses to the right, bonnets three aisles back. You’ll find everything you need.”

Hope easily located the rack of ready-made gowns. Most were too large for her, but she eventually decided on a pink-and-white calico. Browsing through the rack of bonnets, she found a pretty white one; then she selected a few simple undergarments and carried them to the counter.

“How much?” she asked, anxiously watching the clerk tally the apparel.

“Well, let’s see.” The old gentleman figured on a piece of brown paper, his pencil flying. “Three dollars.”

“Three?” She worried her teeth on her lower lip. “Dan and I both need comfortable walking shoes.”

“Three dollars includes two pairs of shoes,” he said with a friendly smile. “I’d throw in a brush and comb for three and a quarter.” He leaned forward slightly. “Got some fine bathing facilities up at the boardinghouse.”

“Thank you,” Hope said, heartened by his generosity. As Papa would say, the world needed more men like Hiram Burk. “You’re so very kind.”

“The Lord’s been good to me; I like to pass it on.” Straightening, he picked up his duster and tidied the counter. “Looks to me like you’ve had a time of it. You slip off one of those shoes and I’ll see if I can match the size. Meanwhile, there’s some finely milled soap, sweetest smelling thing this side of heaven, right over there near the window. You pick out a bar, and I’ll sell it to you for a penny.”