Threads of Change (22 page)

Two beautiful scrap patchwork quilts with single squares and thin triangles served as tablecloths, and crocks blooming with wildflowers decorated the centers of each table. Anna had enough benches and chairs set out to include all the people who came on the wagons, plus Smithy and Samuel Smith. Pastor Parker hadn’t made it home yet, but Anna told them she expected him at any moment.

The women gathered together in the back of Anna’s house where she prepared to serve cold tea in tall metal cups.

Emma approached Anna and said, “I simply can’t wait any longer. I have to find out how you control all of your curls; they look so nice, and mine are just a wild mess everywhere.”

Liz chuckled, noticing that Emma’s curls had gotten the best of her in the humid heat.

“Oh, it’s bearable with a little beeswax, and it’s grand when the wind blows too. I will show you how to do it and share some of mine with you until you can get some of your own.”

Liz admired the tablecloth quilts, wondering if the women in Fort Worth were avid quilters or just the kind to make them as needed. These beautiful coverings were perfectly pieced and the color pattern carefully selected. They had grown worn over time, but each still showed the love stitched into its blocks.

As she did with every quilt she came across, Liz ran her hand over the fabric and threads, hoping to soak up the story that could be told. Was a friendship strengthened as the stitches were sewn? Or was it possibly a new bride asking advice from her mother as they stitched? Or could tears have been shed over the hope for a future or the loss of one?

“Oh, good! My dear husband,” Anna announced.

Liz looked up as Pastor Parker rode up to the back of the house. He was a tall man with wide shoulders, wearing a white shirt tucked into dark trousers that covered his cowboy boots. A black string tie surrounded his neck and a dark cowboy hat was planted firmly on his head. His nicely groomed mustache and warm smile made the new arrivals comfortable immediately.

He dismounted his horse and approached them with his jacket over his arm and a Bible in his hand. A leather holster on his left leg held a Colt revolver tucked down into it. He looked as if he could have been a gambler or a hired gun until the smile and worn Bible showed up. With wide steps from his long legs, he went straight to his wife and bent to give her a kiss and a one-armed hug before greeting his guests.

“It doesn’t look like Lucas made this trip,” Parker said as he looked over the group. “These good folks must be starved for some of your fine cooking, Anna. Let’s sit and pray.”

The pastor sat at the head of the table with his wife at his right side. Next to Anna were Liz and Thomas, then Luke, John, Blue, and Tex. Samuel sat at the other end of the table with Smithy, Colt, Chet, Jackson, Megan, Emma, and Abby at the end by Pastor Parker.

Parker took Anna’s hand and laid his other open for Abby. “Let’s give thanks,” his rich, caramel voice began.

Each one followed the pastor’s example and took the hand next to them. Even the rangers and millworkers followed suit. When Pastor Parker spoke, it was hard not to follow his command.

“Our faithful God, we worship you and are grateful. Thank you for our safe journeys. Thank you for our new relationships, and we ask that you would bless this fine food that my dear wife has prepared.”

Parker gave Anna’s hand a little squeeze. Liz and the other women at the table raised their heads slightly, watching this powerful, godly man. They had never seen or heard a preacher like this one before.

Thomas broke Liz’s train of thought when he gave her hand a squeeze.

“And thank you for bringing the Mailly family to us. Bless them, oh Lord. And all of God’s people said, ‘Amen.’”

Amens sounded all around the table as each one lifted their head.

Thomas continued to hold Liz’s hand until he had to start passing the heaping bowl of mashed potatoes and the platter overflowing with fried chicken.

Liz noticed that Megan still held Jackson’s hand, her little hand swimming inside Jackson’s large one. He glanced at Megan and seemed satisfied to let her hand remain right there, too.

After a moment, Megan jumped slightly, as if she’d just realized what she’d done. She slipped her hand away and giggled a little. “Sorry.”

Pastor Parker started the conversation after all the food had gone around the table and justifiable praises had been given to Anna for all of her hard work preparing the meal. Luke teased his mother that her chickens had barely made it to Texas, and this gave him the idea that they would make a tasty supper! Laughter and good humored joking abounded around the table.

“Miss Abby,” the pastor said, “the appointed men hired to oversee the school are here tonight at the table. Mr. Owen Smith, otherwise known as Smithy, his son Mr. Samuel Smith, and me, of course. They tell me that your wagons are unloaded and you’re almost settled in.”

Parker took a bite of a chicken leg and smiled at his wife with approval. Anna blushed, and Liz could see that she appreciated the way her husband rewarded her with compliments, silent or spoken.

“We want to welcome all of you to Fort Worth,” Parker said to Liz. “If there is anything we can do for you now or later, please let us know. You can talk to any of us and we will do our best to accommodate you. We want you all to settle here and plant some deep Texas roots. It is a wonderful place, and we are excited you are here!”

Liz noticed Abby looking over the three governing men, and she thought her cousin appeared as surprised as she that there were only three, and that Samuel was one of them. Before, at Abby’s Mississippi placement, there had been five men, all of them older men with families. She didn’t know what to think about one board member being single and only a little older than Abby. But this was the West, where everything was different.

Thomas addressed Parker. “You said earlier that if you could help in any way to just ask.”

“Yes,” Pastor acknowledged the request. “What can I do for you, Thomas?”

Liz’s heart fluttered slightly. She almost heard the words before they were spoken.

“Well, this morning I asked Liz to marry me and she said yes. We would like to be married in a few weeks after we get settled. Lucas should be here by then.”

Cheers and congratulations were heard from everyone around the table. Thomas smiled at Liz, and she forced a smile back while willing the chicken in her belly to be tamed.

“This is such wonderful news,” Anna exclaimed. “Anything I can do to help you plan the nuptials, Liz, don’t hesitate to ask me. All right?”

Liz nodded, forcing a smile to work its way around her gloomy attitude.

I’m suddenly not feeling so matrimonial
, she thought.
How dare he simply make an announcement of this kind without discussing it with me first!

After everyone finished the peach cobbler made with sweet, ripe Texas peaches, the Mailly women pitched in to help with the cleanup. The men stayed seated around the table, chatting about the recent relocation of the county records that would ensure Fort Worth as the county registrar.

Tex leaned into the table and said to Pastor Parker, “So, you’re saying that a group from here went to Birdville and stole the county records?”

“Yes, as I was riding back from a visit just south of here, I came across ol’ man Jeb, who told me he saw several men riding back with all the records from Birdville. Now that the Maillys are here, the townsfolk think this should be the place for Tarrant County records instead of Birdville. The county seat will bring growth and life to our area, which we’ll need if we are going to prosper.”

Tex leaned back in his seat and looked to Jackson and Colt.

“Guess it’s a good thing we’re here. We’ll take a day’s ride out at daybreak and see what we can find out. Maybe Birdville won’t put up a fuss. We’ll tell them we’re Texas Rangers are aware of the issue and will be handling it appropriately.”

“Hopefully, it will stay calm,” Jackson chimed in. “But if they do choose to make an issue, we’ll be prepared.”

“I think they’re right about the records,” Tex said. “I feel strongly they should be kept here. I’ll send word back to the authorities and see where we stand legally. Do you know where the records are now?”

Parker raised his shoulders. “I’ll see what I can find out in the morning.”

“Good,” Tex said. “See if you can get them to your house for safekeeping until we can get this straightened out.”

Thomas followed Liz to the kitchen when she carried out away the last pile of dishes. “You look bone-weary, Liz,” he said. “I don’t think anyone would be offended if you let me see you home.”

“I want to finish the cleanup, Thomas. And there’s no need to see me home. I’ll just see you in the morning.”

No need to get into the whole wedding announcement argument in someone else’s home. Especially when she felt so tired she might drop at any moment.

But Thomas hadn’t been dissuaded, and he insisted upon seeing Liz to the front door of her new home. When they reached the house, he kissed her on the forehead. She leaned against his chest. He felt strong and solid. Even though she knew he wasn’t Caleb, it felt good to be held at the end of a long day.

Thomas put both arms around her and said, “I love you, Liz. I can’t believe I can finally say that to you. I know a lot has happened today. Get some rest and we can talk about our plans later.”

Liz watched after him as Thomas strolled to the back door of the mercantile. She went into the house, found her nightgown, and returned to the bathhouse. As Liz removed her worn dress and folded it on the wooden stool by the tub, she sighed as she thought about all the garment had been through.

She stepped into the tub and let the warmth caress her skin. The water smelled like lilacs. She slipped down into it until her shoulders submerged, combing the braid from her hair with her fingers. She held her breath and slid quietly under the water, soaking every inch of her aching body, even over the top of her head.

What a wonderful feeling to surrender mind and body to the warm tub of water. She surfaced and reached for a bottle of thick, pearly soap and poured a small amount into her hand, and then coaxed luxurious lather from her hair. Afterward, she used a pitcher to rinse her hair until it felt squeaky clean and satiny soft to the touch.

After a time, her fingers began to wrinkle like a piece of dried fruit. The fluffy cotton towel just within her reach soothed her skin as she stepped out of the tub. She thought again about how pampered the captain’s wife must have been to have such a fancy, expensive bath sheet to use out here in this rugged part of the country!

Liz dropped the nightgown over her head for the first time since she’d driven the wagon out of the flood. She had decided on that day that a wet nightgown was not what a lady needed to wear when driving a rain-soaked team. She would just sleep in her clothing, like it or not.

How can I write this day in my journal?
she wondered as she dried her hair in the towel.
It has gone on for an eternity
.

Liz pulled the wrapper around her and tied it at the waist. Her clean, damp hair fell over her shoulders. She stepped out of the bathhouse door and looked around the yard. The sounds of the night hummed a slow song and a coyote yodeled in the distance. She paused to admire the moon that hung lazily in the big Texas sky.

“Thank You, God,” she silently prayed. “You are good.”

Liz cranked the handle of the back door and slipped into the kitchen. She walked toward the two bedrooms and tried to remember which one she now shared with her sister. It seemed like days rather than hours ago that she had chosen her room. Her soft and familiar quilt was a welcome sight. As she turned down her bed, her journal fell to the wood floor with a thump.

“I’ll write it in the morning,” she mumbled as she pulled Granny’s quilt over her legs.

As she drifted off to sleep, Liz’s thoughts meandered across the tradition of every new homestead receiving a star quilt for good luck. The women of the community would make one and send it in the settlers’ wagon on their way to a new home.

She thought about the hardships of the wagon trail endured by so many, and now she knew what it meant to have the support and prayers of a family as you suffered through the long, tireless days.

That’s what I will write in my journal tomorrow
, she thought as she snuggled into the cozy quilt.

She hardly heard the whispers from the hallway as Megan, Abby, and Emma prepared for bed, and she thought she might be dreaming when Tex’s low baritone voice rounded up the men and they headed to the old military bunkhouse.

Her very last thought as she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep:
Even an army bed will be a treat for them tonight
.