Threads of Change (27 page)

T
homas inspected his clothing and the bedroll that hung drying in the tree. It had rained for three long days and nights. He spent the next two days rotating his belongings on the branches of a big oak tree. His things weren’t dirty, just soaked. He even had to take valuable time off so his horse could dry out as well. The rainy weather had been good for him though; it afforded him thinking time about his future and what he wanted to do at this point.

The land was rich and beautiful with small hills, scattered trees, and good open pastures for grazing livestock. This was just what he hoped to find. Thomas looked down upon the perfect spot to build a big white ranch house with white corrals full of good horses, for breeding or to sell. Cattle would roam the outstretched hills around the ranch.

He envisioned the front of the house, and suddenly there was Liz standing on the porch. He shook his head to make the picture fade, but she was tenacious, that Liz. Always there, looking just like the first time he saw her as a young woman. She always stood like that … on the outskirts of his life, never really allowing him to step in.

Thomas poured the last of the coffee from the enamel coffee pot simmering on his campfire. He hoped the strong, hot drink might clear his head. To extinguish his small fire, he kicked dirt over the red hot coals as he came to the final decision that this was the piece of land for him. Despite all that seemed to have gone wrong, this decision just felt right. He would purchase the land around him; Denton County land, close to the Trinity River where it drained into the Elm Fork.

Thomas saddled his horse and packed up his dry things, ready to move on, rather excited to file on the perfect piece of land. He would keep his plan moving forward, with or without Elizabeth Bromont.

This place would be close enough to monitor his responsibilities in town. He would most likely place his good friend Chet as foreman on the ranch, and designate Blue to oversee the freight line. Thomas placed his boot in the stirrup and mounted up. He turned his horse to a small settlement called Medlin, Texas.

As he rode into the community of settlers, just where Tex told him it would be, he found a small supply store with grain stacked along a table made from barrels. It really wasn’t a building, just a roof without walls and a dirt floor. A rooster strutted between the barrels, making the hens cluck and move along in the powdery dust of the floor. Thomas reined in his horse and let them hang loose as he dismounted.

A big man working over a blacksmith’s iron next to the supply store looked up. Wiping the sweat from his brow with a red bandana, he studied Thomas and stood to greet him.

Thomas took a few steps toward the big man with soot on his face. “I’m Thomas Bratcher,” he stated, nodding his head. “I’m looking for Big Moe. I was told I could find him here.”

“Who told you that Big Moe would be here?” the man replied in a deep voice as he wiped his hands on his heavy apron.

Thomas replied, “My friend Tex, a Ranger. He said to talk to Moe about some land I want to buy.”

Thomas waited and watched until the blacksmith finally smiled, and all six and a half feet of the man came toward him.

“I’m Big Moe, and any friend of Tex’s is a friend of mine.”

The now-friendly giant shook Thomas’s hand vigorously as he asked, “Which piece of heaven do you have your eye on?” Big Moe blocked the sunlight from view when he stood and the earth shook a little as he stepped.

His voice was deep and thunderous, and he even made the Ranger Jackson seem small by comparison. Thomas was glad he knew Tex and was able to use him as a reference.

Moe showed him around the corner to a shady spot with a table, and he motioned for him to take a seat. Moe continued standing and called out toward an open cabin door where it sat nestled in the grove of trees. A young girl, maybe ten years old, pretty and petite, came to the opening.

“Yes, Papa?”

“Bring a plate for our friend, and a drink from the well, too.”

Moe sat on a tree stump on the other side of the table while Thomas watched the little girl go and do as her papa asked. She brought a chunk of beef and two slices of dark bread, heavy with fresh churned butter. Thomas didn’t realize how hungry he was until he smelled the meal placed before him.

Moe smiled at her and asked, “Didn’t I smell a peach pie cooking earlier?”

“Papa, it’s almost ready. The crust just needs to brown a little more.”

Thomas saw her smile at her papa as she served the food prepared with her small hands. Her slender body did a small curtsey and she headed back to the opening from which she’d first appeared.

“She’s been cookin’ for a few years now, ever since her ma passed. As you can see, she has a big job cookin’ for me.” Moe patted his stomach and gave a nod to Thomas.

Thomas had not had a meal since the Sunday welcoming party, and he was famished. He had left before dawn, just as a storm was moving in. Jerky was all he had in his saddlebag, plus some fruit he found along the way. Game was hard to find in the rain.

He finished off the last bit of bread and licked some of the butter off his hand. Moe continued talking about the small settlement he called home; Medlin had been named after Louis and Charles Medlin. About twenty families had settled there eight years back. Moe let Thomas eat without asking any questions. He obviously respected a man’s meal time.

Thomas had barely swallowed his last bite when the blonde girl appeared with a hot peach pie and a crock of milk. Thomas smiled in amazement as she cut one third of the pie and placed it on his plate. She smiled shyly at him and giggled as she moved the rest of the pie in front of her papa.

Thomas placed his hands on his tight stomach and laughed as she turned and skipped toward a puppy that had wandered over in hopes of a tasty treat. She sat in the grass and played with the puppy, tossing a rag ball.

“Your daughter is delightful and a really good cook for someone so young,” Thomas said over a forkful of the sweet pie.

Moe looked over to the child and nodded his head in agreement. “Bethany is good in many ways and I will hate the day I have to part with my only daughter. He will have to be a good man or he will have to deal with me and her five brothers.”

Thomas chuckled at the image of a young suitor and the six giant men who would have to approve of the relationship with their much-loved Bethany.

“She reminds me of her mother, sweet as a honeycomb, floats around happy as a butterfly. It was a sad day when she passed. Do you have a missus and children?”

Thomas’s thoughts went to Liz. “No, not married.” He paused.

“But you have a sweetheart,” Moe interrupted. “Will she not come west with ya? Are ya gonna send for her soon as you get the land?”

Thomas wasn’t sure where he stood with Liz at the moment. He had waited all night for the quilt to appear on the back porch. When it didn’t, he knew he had to leave.

“Yes, I do have a sweetheart.” Thomas smiled, thinking of Liz and how excited she was when he surprised her with the quilt. “Our relationship has taken a bump in the road, you might say.” Thomas looked at Moe and even though they had just met, he felt comfortable enough to share his dilemma. “I’m not sure she wants to continue with our plans to marry. She is in Fort Worth, widowed with a half-grown son and very independent.”

Moe sat quietly with his arms folded across his chest listening to Thomas. “Is she a good woman?” Moe asked.

“Yes,” Thomas replied.

“Are you over being mad at her?” he asked intuitively.

Thomas smiled sheepishly as he looked at this man who already seemed to know him better than most. “How did you know?”

Moe sat up and leaned across the table, which groaned under his pressure. “You said she was independent. Means stubborn. You two locked horns means you left mad.”

Thomas listened as Moe summed it up so simply.

“Let me tell you how to keep your woman happy,” he continued seriously. “I was a big clumsy man, no looks, no money. But my Mary was a looker and had many to pick from. I just loved her and made her believe in herself, said, ‘yes ma’am’ to most everything. The sweet woman died birthin’ my last son. If you love her, let her know, and give her a second chance. I’m sure she’s worried sick over you bein’ gone and I’d bet you didn’t even tell her you were leavin’.”

“I’ll give it some thought.”

“Don’t wait too long. Life has a way of givin’ and takin’ and it don’t ask our opinion on the matter.” Moe looked Thomas in the eye as he spoke the wise words.

“Thanks, Moe. For the food
and
the advice. I have some riding miles to think on it.”

Thomas folded up the paperwork for the title to his land and neatly pushed it into his inside vest pocket. Thomas had gotten more than he planned on; a good meal, advice, and an honest new friend. Even one of those was hardly easy to come by.

“We can file your land patent with the Texas Land Office when they send the traveling agent our way, if you don’t want to travel all the way to Houston,” Moe stated. “It’s a long way and the agent will be by here in a few weeks.”

“Thanks again, Moe, but I’ll feel better filing the patent in person. Please tell Bethany the meal was as good as any I’ve had,” Thomas said, and he let his horse get one more drink at the trough.

Bethany and her puppy ran up to Moe, and he scooped up the little dog and pushed him down into his apron bib with one giant hand. The fluffy pup poked his head out of the pocket as Moe lifted his pint-sized little girl and a planted a kiss on her forehead. Her little arm tried to wrap around her papa’s huge neck as she sat neatly in the crook of his elbow. They both waved and the pup barked as Thomas mounted his horse and began his journey south to the Texas Land Office.

It would take him at least two weeks to make it there and back if he rode hard and had no trouble. But already, he heard the still small voice prompting him to get back home to Liz.

L
iz shook the quilt that had been left in place on the back porch ever since Thomas left. She worried that it might become faded and weathered after staying in the sun on that chair for the last two weeks. Once she’d shaken the dust free and carefully laid it out, Liz smoothed her hand over the circle wreaths and thought of the man who had given it to her.

How could I have been so stupid and stubborn?

Liz shook her head in disbelief. She scanned the dirt road as she’d done so many dozens of times in the hope of some sign of his return. Like always, she saw nothing more than a dust devil dancing down the road toward the livery.

Megan came to the doorway to retrieve her sister. “Liz, don’t worry. I know you must be thinking of Thomas. I’m sure he’ll be home soon. Come inside and let’s get started on our sewing. Anna has just arrived and she brought her wonderful molasses cookies. Let’s make this a good afternoon with friends, hmm?”

Megan gave her sister a shoulder hug with one arm, and Liz went inside with her to help pour the tea into Granny Claire’s china tea cups. Small red wildflowers with five petals and long thin leaves adorned each cup, saucer and plate. Megan filled the large serving platter with warm brown spice cookies. The smell of freshly baked cookies hit Liz hard, and she went straight to the cookie plate and took two.

“I’m anxious to get to work on my cracker box quilt,” Megan said as she replenished the cookie platter. “Did I tell you the peddler, Skelly, had noticed it at supper when he was there and asked to purchase it from me?” When Liz didn’t reply, her sister continued. “I only have to complete the binding. I’m just about to finish sewing the first edge of the quilt. The peddler said he would return in a few weeks and trade me for some silks and sateen.”

They joined the other women and Megan went straight to work pinning the fabric strips neatly to the trimmed edges of the quilt. Liz noticed that the mitered corners were neat and precise as Megan’s needle moved easily in and out the five thick layers of cotton.

“Anna, I keep forgetting to ask you about the two quilts you had on the tables at our first meal together,” Megan said. “Did you make them?”

Anna sat stitching on a beautiful blue and cream two-tone quilt that looked like a bear paw block except that the triangles for the claws were longer than usual.

“No, my mother did. The blue one is mine. She called hers LICKETY SPLIT because it went together so quickly, and blue is my favorite color. Mama had a secret for making all of those triangles so quick and easy. She would put them in almost all of her quilts. She even did it for my brother’s quilt that was on the other table that day. She named it MONKEY TAILS.”

“How funny! How did it get that name?” Emma asked.

“When he was a little boy, Samuel saw a monkey on a wagon train passing through and was so intrigued with the impish creature. So Mama named his quilt MONKEY TAILS. After that, he pestered our father for a monkey. He wanted one so terribly bad.” Anna smiled and shook her head as she remembered.

“Samuel?” Megan piped up. “Is Samuel Smith your brother?”

“Yes, he is.”

Emma turned to Anna again and asked, “And what do you call the bear paw quilt?”