Texas Brides Collection (42 page)

Rosie had removed her apron, and her hair was pinned up tighter than he had ever seen it. Tendrils still strayed from their grasp, and pink sang in her cheeks, whether from a day’s hard work or high emotion or both. “The eggs look beautiful, Mrs. Braum.”

“Oh, that was fun.” Smiles wreathed Mrs. Braum’s face like a nightcap. “And Cook let me in the kitchen.” She laughed. “Owen, I’m so glad you could come. I believe you’ve already met Miss Carson.”

Rosie curtsied, an action that seemed out of character for the feisty lady, Owen thought. He extended a hand in welcome. “Good to see you again, Miss Carson.”

She colored at his formal greeting. “Please, it’s Rosie. Just plain Rosie. Especially today, when we’re going to be cavorting about like little children ourselves.”

Mrs. Braum’s laughter accompanied Owen’s smile. “When you put it like that, Rosie.” He winked. “And you must call me Owen.”

T
he smile on Rosie’s face dimmed a tiny bit, so quick he wouldn’t have noticed it if he weren’t used to studying people’s faces in case they betrayed anything. What could be bothering her on this day of celebration? Suspicion jumped to his mind, and he chased the thought away as unworthy.

Rosie went from door to door inviting the children to come to the party for games, food, and stories. Owen would never have guessed how hard hiding eggs in these conditions would be. So many likely hiding places held hidden traps like broken glass, rusty nails, or splintering boards. He and Mrs. Braum trudged up and down the worn carpeted stairs, leaving them in easy-to-spot places.

Rosie escorted groups of children down the stairs, keeping the hallways as hidden as possible from their sight. Every now and then Owen spotted a curious face peeking around her skirts. He smiled and waved. One precious little girl, with a thatch of red hair, giggled as she waved back. The older boys sauntered by as if unimpressed by anything going on today…or perhaps grown too far past hope to believe any good would come.

By the time they finished the sixth floor, Mrs. Braum was huffing and puffing. They hid the final few eggs. “Give me a minute to catch my breath. I’m not as young as I used to be, chasing after you young rapscallions.” She bent over, placing her arms on her knees, and drew in deep, ragged breaths.

Whistling “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today,” Owen took a moment to rest his injured leg. The climbing hurt worse than he liked. He studied the building more closely than he had before. Warm air gave testimony to the mid-afternoon hour, but the hallway was as dark as an alleyway in the nighttime. Conflicting odors clung to the walls, giving some idea of the floor’s occupants: cigar smoke and alcohol, peppery spices and tomato sauce, soiled diapers and sweating bodies.

Mrs. Braum’s breathing grew normal. Owen looked down the stairs, six flights of them to reach the street level. Several floors down, a black head bobbed. “Rosie!”

She looked up. “Are you almost ready?”

Owen looked at Mrs. Braum, who said, “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Rosie trotted up the stairs to join them as if the number of steps didn’t bother her, and she waited for them on the fourth-floor landing.

Owen’s worries about an excessive number of eggs vanished when he saw the crowd waiting in the bright sunshine of a March afternoon. Children and even some youths had gathered, easily three dozen or more.

“They don’t all live in this building.” Rosie frowned. “But I hate to chase anyone away. I would’ve invited the whole neighborhood, but that would take more eggs than are laid in Bexar County in a single day.”

Mrs. Braum laughed. “I expect you’re right, Rosie. But that might be a problem. I hate to set limits, but if they hunt in pairs…?”

Owen thought of the double batch of cookies Mrs. Martin had sent. “Maybe if any pair finds nothing, tell them they get an extra cookie apiece.”

“That’s a better idea.” Rosie shook her head. “You tell some of these children to only take two and they might hide the extras away in their clothes.”

Once a thief, always a thief. Owen chased away the thought as unkind.

Rosie worked her way to the center of the circle of children. “Thank you all for coming today! I heard about Easter eggs and this strange thing called an Easter egg hunt. All it takes is hard-boiling an egg.” She held a plain white boiled egg high over her head. “And then you leave it in some kind of liquid that has color, like you get when you boil green tea or red beets. And the egg turns that color.” She held up examples for everyone to see and then passed them around for inspection.

A startled cry replaced the oohs and aahs. “Watch out what you’re doing, Liddy!” One of the bigger girls said to a toddler she held in her arms.

The cries became louder at that. “What happened, Alice?” Rosie asked.

“She dropped the egg, and it got all broken.” She held up the red egg, a crack sneaking down from the crushed top halfway down the egg.

“That’s nothing.” Rosie held the egg for everyone to see. “After we find all the eggs, you can crack it wide open and pop the shell off.” The shell cracked in half with a satisfying snap. “And then we can eat all the eggs. First we play a game, and then we eat. Now, ain’t that smart?”

Rosie was as much at home in front of the children as Mrs. Braum ever had been. She had that kind of spirit, a quiet authority joined with a gentle touch that would make her a good mother. One who could handle the vicissitudes of a Ranger’s life. Again the thought intruded, and Owen shook it off.

The children formed pairs, the oldest holding on to children who could barely crawl or toddle yet, then siblings and friends. Two were left, a boy and a girl, who stood apart from each other the way young children sometimes do. Owen smiled, remembering a similar occasion when he was a boy. You don’t expect me to hunt with a girl, teacher, do you? He came forward and spoke to the boy. “Tell you what. I’ll be your partner, and you get to keep all the eggs.” He winked at Rosie. “And I expect Miss Carson will go a-hunting with your friend here.”

The way the boy’s eyes lit up let Owen know he had made the right choice. Over the boy’s head, Mrs. Braum beamed at him. “Well done,” she mouthed.

“When you’re done hunting, come on back outside. We have another treat in store.” Rosie waited until every child’s eyes were on her. “And…go!”

The first pairs reached the eggs left around the perimeter of the building and picked it as clean as a bunch of buzzards. Rosie urged them on. “Go inside. We hid eggs in the halls, too.”

The boy’s eyes widened and he dashed away, dragging Owen along with him. In between steps, he said, “My name’s Mr. Cooper. What’s yours?”

“Freddy.” At least that’s what Owen thought he heard him say as he dashed away. “I see one!” He found a green-colored egg tucked into a crevice created by a torn patch of carpet. He started to hand it over to Owen. “Do you mind if I keep it?”

“I promised you could keep all the eggs we found.” Owen closed the boy’s fingers over the egg.

Freddy dashed off when he spotted another egg, red this time, tucked in between the railings farther up the stairs. “Whoopee!” He flew back down the stairs. “This one is yours.”

Owen didn’t want the egg. But this young man already understood fairness, and the way he clenched his jaw tight said he wouldn’t take no as an answer for a second time. Owen gave in and accepted the proffered egg.

Before Owen had time to tuck it into his pocket, Freddy dashed away with another cry of delight. A different pair of children, older and bigger than Freddy, reached it first. The biggest boy held it high over his head and teased Freddy.

Freddy shrugged and glanced upstairs. “You already been up there?”

The older boy shrugged. “It’s pretty much picked clean.” He scanned the hallway and started down the stairway.

Freddy palmed his green egg and stared at it with big hazel eyes. “This is even better than this morning.”

“Oh? And what happened this morning?” Owen asked, debating about whether or not to slip the second egg into Freddy’s pocket.

“You didn’t hear about it, mister?” Freddy held on to the railing and climbed on it, ready to slide down the slippery surface. “Somebody left gifts outside of every door. We all got something different. My ma made us fried potatoes for breakfast. I’m still so full I don’t want much lunch, and now I got a whole egg for myself.”

That did it. Owen dug the egg out of his pocket. “Then you take this home to your ma or someone else who didn’t get an egg in today’s hunt.”

Freddy hesitated. “I wouldn’t, but my ma’s been sick.” He wrapped both eggs in a dirty bandanna and held the bundle tight.

They had almost made their way to the bottom of the fourth flight of stairs before the significance of Freddy’s remark sank in for Owen. “What kinds of things did other people get?”

“Flour. Sugar. Butter. Old Mrs. Strauss got some cracked china ’cause all of hers was broken.” His eyes sparkled. “It was like Santa Claus came in the middle of the year.”

R
osie issued an invitation for each family to come to church with her in the morning for a special sunrise service. “They’ll have some delicious breakfast treats called hot cross buns, with sweet icing and raisins and such.” Mrs. Braum had promised her cook would bake extra, “hundreds extra,” she put it, so that no one would be turned away hungry.

Last of all Rosie invited her mother. “I’d be right proud if you’d come with me tomorrow.”

Like usual, Ma grunted and shrugged her shoulders. Rosie told herself not to expect much. If all of today’s doings brought only one family, one child, to the Savior, she’d consider it a great success.

After talking herself into not expecting much on Sunday morning, Rosie woke out of a dream to a soft candlelight pushing at the predawn dark coming from the kitchen. Ma was already up.

“Rosie, is that you? Hurry up so’s you have time to eat.”

Sweet-smelling johnnycakes sizzled on the grill. Ma had stirred up enough batter to use up all of the eggs, but she had only cooked two apiece. They might have more of the corn cakes with beans for supper and lunch, but Rosie didn’t mind. Sometimes all she had for breakfast was half a piece of bread with the crusty part of the end of a loaf. Ma wore a faded red apron over a navy-blue dress, one she only took out for special occasions.

“You’re coming with me today?” Rosie squealed loud enough to be heard in the apartment next door.

“I’m curious, I admit.” Ma plunked two johnnycakes onto a plate and took out a precious jar of molasses, drizzling a tablespoon over both cakes.

Rosie’s mouth watered. Such a breakfast deserved extra time to savor every bite, but she had promised to meet anyone interested in attending church with her outside at quarter of five. After she chased the crumbs from her plate, Ma rinsed down the plates, and someone knocked.

Owen filled the doorway when she opened the door. He held his hat with two fingers. “If you don’t mind, I thought I would escort you and your friends to church this morning. There’s likely to be questions once we get there, and you might have trouble answering them all by yourself.”

“I don’t think there’s going to be that many people coming with me.” She hated to think of Owen walking on that still-sore leg. Although he tried to hide it, she had seen him wincing more than once.

Owen raised an eyebrow in that special way of his. “I guess you haven’t peeked outside this morning.”

She shook her head. “But we’re ready to go.”

Mrs. Strauss made her way out of her door as the three of them came out of the Carsons’ apartment. She smiled in their general direction. “And you must be the handsome Ranger our Rosie has told us about.” Her rheumy eyes almost sparkled.

Owen’s ears colored, and he twisted his hat, as if wishing he could set it back on his head and cover up his embarrassment. Rosie smothered a smile.

“And you must be…” Owen paused as if recalling a list of names. “Mrs. Strauss.” He tipped his hat to her. “May I escort you down the stairs?”

Rosie appreciated his kindness. On the first floor, they encountered a woman who was heavily pregnant lining up four toddlers and giving them a list of instructions.