Threads of Change (5 page)

The sweet and enticing fragrance inside the tearoom made Liz remember how hungry she was. She imagined Emma and Abby were half starved by now.

Emma rubbed her leg and commented that it felt sore from the trip. “For two days,” she explained, “it hit the side of the stage until now it’s tender and bruised.”

Liz noticed the little half-moons that hung under her cousins’ eyes, and she smiled as she thought that they paraded their fatigue around like a little girl in a fancy dress. They likely felt horrible, mostly from the poor sleeping conditions, and the half hour of excitement since their arrival had disguised their tiredness. But now, as normalcy set in, their exhaustion looked unmistakable.

The four of them sat down at a white linen-covered table. They ordered dessert and tea and the cousins took turns relating everything that had happened to them since they had last exchanged letters. They were brought up on all of the latest news, including most of the plans for their journey west. They talked about the future and recent quilting projects, wagons, flowers, men, lacy hats, and hairstyles.

At a break in the conversation, Abby pulled off her thin gloves and looked over at Liz. Abby seemed overwhelmed by the heat. “Abby, I think it’s time to start home.”

Chet cautiously entered the tearoom just then as the ladies finished the last of the crumbly pastries. He walked with the confidence that comes from a shot of whiskey, and he touched his hat with a greeting as he reached the table.

“Hello, Chet,” Liz said cheerfully. “What perfect timing. We were about to leave.”

Chet smiled as his chocolate brown eyes went to each female. He looked handsome in his brown cowboy hat and green cotton shirt. His dark blond hair hung loosely under his hat, and his boots were dark and slightly dusty from constant wear.

“I’d like for you to meet my cousins, Chet. This is Abby,” she said. “And this is Emma, her younger sister.”

“Ma’am, ma’am,” he said, tipping the brim of his hat twice, greeting each of them.

“Nice to meet you,” they both said, almost in unison.

“Nice to meet you, also.” Chet shifted his weight to his other hip, causing his belt buckle to shine in the afternoon sun. “Well, I’ll be out front with the wagon when you ladies are ready to leave.”

“Thank you, Chet,” Liz said. “We’ll be right along.”

He smiled toward Emma, and gave her an extra tip of his hat as he headed out the door. Emma smiled back, her cheeks blushing red.

“Oh!” Megan teased. “I think Chet is sweet on you, Emma.”

“No … really? You think so?”

“Yes, really.”

“Maybe so, Emma,” Liz teased. “I saw the way he looked at you.”

Emma looked dazed and slightly embarrassed. “Who is Chet again?”

Megan giggled. “He works at the mill. You’ll see him again later, I’m sure.”

Liz quickly paid with the money that Lucas had given her, and they walked out to meet the men at the wagon.

Like each one before it, Lucas rose first that morning and started the coffee and the first skillet of bacon.

“The smell of bacon is better than any alarm,” he’d often told Thomas just about the time the girls trotted down the stairs to the table, sleepy-eyed and ready to eat. The same trick had come to work on Luke as well.

After Claire had passed away, Megan started making the biscuits, and Liz oversaw the eggs and the general needs of getting everyone fed. Caleb and Thomas had started joining the family for breakfast each day even before Caleb married into the Mailly family. Lucas ran the family timber mill straight from his morning breakfast table.

Thomas supposed that Liz and Megan had both learned the timber business while pouring coffee and flipping bacon. Liz said once that she believed more things in life are caught rather than taught, and that was certainly the case as the family trade passed down from generation to generation. Gathering around that breakfast table for the organization of the day’s responsibilities had become a Mailly family tradition.

A bright, warm sun greeted the family on this morning. The clear blue sky boasted a few puffy clouds floating about. No breeze fluttered the curtains on the open window, and when the sunlight crossed the front porch and peeked through the windows, Thomas usually followed. He tried never to show up late for his first cup of coffee!

He moseyed through the back door and greeted Lucas. Luke sat across from him, eating in complete silence. As usual, Thomas grabbed the coffee cup, poured the strong black liquid, and joined the silent breakfast table. He knew that the morning conversation would begin once Lucas completed his reading.

Lucas’s Bible sat open to the book of Nehemiah. He looked up and greeted Thomas as he poured more coffee into the old man’s cup.

“I don’t recall ever reading that book in the Bible,” Thomas commented.

Lucas swallowed his coffee and set the cup back down half full. “One of my favorites. I’ve read it often.”

“Oh,” Thomas replied. “Why?”

“An old man does his best work,” he chuckled, “and he doesn’t hesitate to tell a group of women how to help.”

Luke spoke for the first time that morning. “Tell me the story, Grandpa.”

Thomas leaned one arm on the table and prepared to listen to what Lucas would say.

“Well, Nehemiah had a big vision. He felt led by God to build back the city walls of Jerusalem. He made a plan, oversaw the work, financed it, and he prayed a lot. This story tells me to dream big, stay focused, get to work, refuse to give up, and always include God in every step along the way.”

“What else?” Luke asked.

Lucas looked at his audience and continued. “He had every reason to give up his dream. He didn’t think about the obstacles but looked toward the goal. The workers got tired and overwhelmed, and the town’s people were negative; some even wanted to kill him. He included the women in the plan, as well as the children, and together they accomplished the goal.”

“Hmm,” Thomas said as he leaned back in his chair. “I like this man. Sounds like I need to read this book for myself.”

“That’s what we have, Grandpa. We have a big goal to go west, and with lots of women!” Luke’s voice grew louder at the end.

Thomas and Lucas laughed out loud.

“Speaking of the women, aren’t they late coming down today?” Thomas asked. Usually breakfast was in full swing by now.

“I heard them up half the night talking and laughing like little schoolgirls. Guess coffee and bacon is gonna be it this morning. We can cut some bread from the loaf. Butter and blackberry jam will fix it right up.”

Thomas stood to get the bread and a knife. Luke got the jam and a spoon from the basket. About that time, they heard Lucas’s four granddaughters on the stairs. Megan and Abby appeared in the kitchen first, with Liz and Emma just a few steps behind.

Abby, the tallest and thinnest of the four women, wore her brown hair pinned securely at the back of her head. She definitely had the poise of a schoolteacher, Thomas thought.

“I see the Mailly breakfast ritual is as it should be,” Abby said as she greeted her grandfather with a kiss to the cheek. “The smell of bacon is the best way to wake up. I had forgotten.” Thomas figured Emma might be too young to remember much but the love and warmth of the home. She smiled and greeted her Grandpa Lucas with a kiss as well.

“You men give up on breakfast this morning?” Liz asked as she put the teapot on the burner and stirred the flame under it. “Oh,” she continued, “Thomas, do you remember my cousins, Abby and Emma Wilkes?”

Thomas stood and greeted the Mississippi cousins. “Yes, it’s been awhile, ladies.”

“Sit down, girls,” Lucas commanded. “There is plenty of bacon and bread. Get your tea ready and let’s talk a few things over. Get everyone up to speed around here.”

The Wilkes sisters watched their grandpa as he spoke, with their plates in front of them full of bacon and bread.

“I’m pleased Abby and Emma are joining us,” he continued. “I wish your parents shared our views. As you all know, I firmly believe the Southern states will withdraw from the Union soon. With the presidential election before us, the time is upon us. I have a buyer for the timber mill.”

Every face focused on Lucas, and not a bite had been taken. The seriousness of selling the family mill and the unrest in the South as well as an extended journey west seemed to weigh upon each person, with both excitement and apprehension.

“It seems all our plans are falling into place, Lucas,” Thomas said. “After talking with Chet and the stage driver, I think it will take five or six weeks to get to Fort Worth.”

“Yes,” Lucas continued, and he looked directly at Abby and Emma, “from our letters, I assume you know the military is leaving the fort abandoned. A freight system and mercantile is badly needed there. That area has seen growth with ranches and a few farmers, and I see it as the business opportunity we are looking for. They are expecting us and quite excited about it all. Fort Worth has the ability and desire to grow into a proper community.”

The teapot on the stove started to whistle, and Liz got up to make the hot tea for the women. Coffee wasn’t their morning choice, Thomas observed.

Emma started to eat, watching Abby as she asked, “I heard the cavalry is moving west to fight the Comanches. Does this mean we won’t have any problems with Indians? That’s been my greatest concern of our move.”

“Most likely we won’t see any, but they are still out there. We could get worried about it, but I choose to just be smart with our choices. We won’t provoke them if we see them, and we’ll stay together.” Lucas’s expression darkened as he added, “I repeat, always stay together. I have also been in contact with a small group of Texas Rangers. I’ve made arrangements for them to meet up with your wagon train at the border. They will continue on with you to the fort.”

Abby felt a little better and took in a deep breath.

As each family member prepared their breakfast plates at the Mailly table, they seemed to fall into their own thoughts of the adventure before them, and Thomas was no exception.

Liz interrupted his thoughts as she verbalized a list of the tasks she needed to complete and how many days she needed to accomplish her list.

“Dishes and glass cups will be packed in the sawdust, hopefully keeping them in one piece over the bumpy wagon trail ahead,” she said to no one in particular. “We’ll need one wagon alone for Megan’s fabric and new sewing machine. There are trunks to pack, food to prepare, and all of the barn supplies need to find a place.”

She looked as if her mind had set to swirling without a pencil in front of her to organize it. She smoothed out the skirt of her blue cotton dress with its crocheted collar as if she might hop up and tackle all six wagons at that very moment.

Young Luke seemed more troubled by the looming civil war than about what he might pack to take the journey. Like his namesake, Luke dreamed of open territory, fresh and green, someplace untouched and unchanged, where bison roamed and stallions galloped; a place in the West where adventure saturated every day and Indians settled on mountaintops and deep in the valleys. Thomas smiled, realizing Luke wasn’t frightened by any of it.

Lucas lifted an eyebrow at Thomas. “I’ll have to get gold for the sale of the mill. Any other currency is just too unstable with a civil war so close to exploding.”

After all, it was essentially war from which they fled, which, according to Lucas’s assessments, would devastate the mill’s operation. He had a keen understanding of the politics of the day from the many newspapers he regularly read.

Thomas knew it just about broke the old man’s heart to sell the timber mill, his only way of life. On the last fishing trip they’d taken with Luke, Lucas had told them, “This is what life is all about. Take a risk, see if you can fly. Regardless of the outcome or what may develop, it is better to try than always wonder.”

“We’ve almost finished all of the blackberry jam,” Megan commented as Abby reached for it.

“I know,” Liz said, surprised.

“We should grow our own blackberries again,” Megan said, “when we get to Texas.”

“Do you think they’ll grow in Texas?” Emma asked.

“Surely they will grow,” Megan said, and she turned to Liz. “Don’t you think so?”

“I don’t know for certain,” Liz replied, “but I can’t imagine breakfast without blackberry jam.”

The women all looked down at the generous layer of jam that covered each slice of warm bread. Thomas smiled at Luke as they watched and listened to the jam conversation between them.

“Too bad we’ll miss the last berry-picking season in Lecompte,” Liz lamented.

“We have six wagons, full of supplies to drive,” Lucas interrupted them. “So I’ve hired John and Blue from the mill to help drive the two extra teams. Chet is from Texas and knows the area well. He will ride scout for us.”

Thomas gulped down the last of his coffee as Lucas continued. “I’ll be there as soon as the sale of the mill is finalized. The new owners need to be comfortable before I can leave. I feel this is the respectable manner to address the new owners. Also, the land contract in Pineville will need to be finalized for the purpose of logging rights. I will be along as soon as I can. We’ll start packing today. It will be a lot of work to fit it all in, but we can do it.”