Pony Express Courtship (8 page)

“Mrs. Miller, are you all right?” she asked, feeling foolish. If the woman was all right, she wouldn't be crying.

The older woman sniffed loudly and looked up at her. “Oh, hello, Rebecca dear.”

Fay Miller always had a smile on her face and her sparkling gray eyes usually held a teasing glint, but not today. Something had to be terribly wrong to dissolve the sweet woman into tears. Rebecca hugged her about the shoulders. “What's wrong?”

“I'm old and useless, that's what's wrong,” she wailed.

Rebecca's heart broke for the woman. “Nonsense, why would you say such a thing?” she asked, leading her toward the bench that sat outside the store.

Once seated, Mrs. Miller wiped her face with a big floral handkerchief. She sighed heavily and said, “Rebecca, I have outlived my usefulness.”

“Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me what is going on,” Rebecca suggested, patting the older woman's arm.

She nodded. “This morning Mr. Welsh, the man who owns my house, said he's going to sell it so that they can put up something called a telegraph pole and use my home for a telegraph office. He told me I had twenty-four hours to move out. Twenty-four hours!” Mrs. Miller cried.

Mrs. Miller was a widower. As far as Rebecca knew she and Mr. Miller had never had any children. The late Mr. Miller had been gone for ten years and Mrs. Miller had lived in that house for as long as Rebecca could remember. How could Mr. Welsh just kick her out like that?

She moaned into her handkerchief. “What am I going to do?”

Rebecca stared at her wagon for several long moments. Did everyone have problems? It would appear so, even sweet Mrs. Miller. She silently prayed for an answer to help her old friend. As Rebecca prayed, a thought began to build in her mind. Maybe they could help each other. Would the older woman be willing to move out to the farm? Or would she balk and say she'd rather stay in town?

Chapter Eight

R
ebecca turned to face her. She took the older woman's hands away from her face and looked into her tear-filled eyes. “Mrs. Miller, how would you like to move out to the farm with me and my boys?”

Mrs. Miller sniffled. “What?”

“Well, it occurs to me that the Lord may be answering both our prayers. I need a chaperone and you need a new home.”

The older woman pulled one of her trembling hands free and wiped at her face again. “You want me to chaperone you?” Her voice quivered.

Rebecca explained, “Yes. I'm not sure if you've heard but the Pony Express sent out a man to be the station keeper at the farm. He stays out in the bunkhouse with the boys but last time I was in town, Mr. Edwards found out and he acted as if I was doing something wrong by letting the station keeper stay out at my place.” Rebecca shook her head in disgust. “He is a Pony Express employee. It's his job, he has to live there. If you came to live with me, you'd be supplying me with a chaperone and I'd supply you with a roof over your head for the rest of your days.” She smiled brightly at the woman. “Which, by the looks of things, will be for many, many years.”

For the first time since she'd left the store, Mrs. Miller's mouth wobbled into a smile. “Are you sure you wouldn't mind an old woman rattling around in your house?” she asked.

“The only thing I mind is that you keep referring to yourself as an old woman,” Rebecca assured her.

“Then I'll do it. But I don't want you thinking it's forever. We don't even know if we'll enjoy living together,” Mrs. Miller said, but her actions belied her words. She eagerly reached for Rebecca's hand. “Oh, thank you, thank you.”

Rebecca gathered her into a close hug. “I'll send Jacob and the little ones back to the house to unload the wagon and they can return for us in the morning. We'll get you packed up tonight.” Excitement coursed through her at the thought of Mrs. Miller living on the ranch. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed another woman's presence. Her mother-in-law had died shortly after Rebecca's eighteenth birthday. That had been several years ago.

“Mrs. Miller, I am excited.” Rebecca clapped her hands in glee.

“Now, now, Rebecca. If we are going to live together, you must stop calling me Mrs. Miller. Fay will do nicely.” Fay's words chided, but her voice simmered with barely checked relief and joy.

Jacob came out of the store with a large box full of supplies. He looked from his mother to the older woman, but respect for his elders kept him from asking the questions she felt sure were on the tip of his tongue.

“Jacob, Fay is moving in with us,” Rebecca announced, sliding an arm around the older woman's shoulders.

To her son's credit he acted as if things like this were an everyday occurrence at their house. “Well, Mrs. Miller, all orphans are welcome at our place, even older ones.”

Rebecca saw at once that Jacob could not have said anything that would please Fay more. She beamed with pride at her son.

The woman's eyes widened and she clasped her hands together and placed them over her heart. Her voice seemed to have lodged in her throat because all she said was “Aw.”

“Jacob, I need you to take the supplies and the younger children back to the farm, while I help her pack.”

He carried the box to the wagon. “Yes, Ma.” He set it in the back with the little kids and then turned to face her once more. “Would you like a ride back to her house?”

“Did you get us candy?” Benjamin asked. The picture book had been forgotten.

“I think we'll walk,” Fay answered, smiling happily. She turned to look at Rebecca. “If that's all right with you?”

Jacob answered Benjamin by handing each of them a peppermint stick. “Here you go, buddy.”

“That is fine with me,” Rebecca answered. She looped her arm inside the older woman's and started to walk toward Fay's house. “I can use the exercise.”

Jacob pulled himself onto the wagon and then called after them, “Ma, what about supper?”

Rebecca stopped and grinned at him. “I guess it's a sandwich night for you all. There is ham in the larder and fresh bread. For dessert you can open a few jars of peaches. Joy will help you. Won't you, Joy?”

The little girl licked the sticky candy from her fingers and nodded.

“Oh, and Jacob, go ahead and move your things out to the barn. Mrs. Miller will be staying in your room.”

“If this is too much trouble—” Fay began but Rebecca cut her off.

“Why, it's no trouble at all. We will be helping each other out of troublesome situations and as for my family...they will be fine for one day.” She turned back to the wagon. “You all be good and mind Jacob.”

Both of her youngest children answered, “Yes, Ma.”

Jacob nodded. “I'll pick you up tomorrow at Mrs. Miller's.”

Rebecca waved at them as he turned the horses around and then headed home. It had been a long time since she had been childless. And she'd never asked them to fend for their own dinner. For a moment Rebecca wondered if she was doing the right thing, then shook off the slight feeling of guilt. Mrs. Miller needed her and she needed the older woman. For the first time in a while, Rebecca felt as if she had a companion, maybe even someone she could confide in.

* * *

Seth looked up as the wagon rumbled into the yard. He immediately noticed that Rebecca wasn't with Jacob and the two youngest children. He hurried to the wagon. “Where is your mother?”

Jacob jumped down from the wagon and then helped Joy over the side. “She stayed in town to help Mrs. Miller pack her things. I'm to go back for them tomorrow.”

“Who is Mrs. Miller?” Seth asked.

Jacob picked up the box of kitchen supplies and handed them to Benjamin. “Beni, take these to the kitchen and set them on the table.” He turned to face Seth. “Mrs. Miller is a widow woman from town. Her husband passed away a few years ago and she has no children. I heard while I was in the store that the man who owns her house kicked her out this morning. I imagine Ma felt sorry for her and invited her to live out here.”

“That was mighty nice of her,” Seth said thoughtfully. Had Rebecca seen Mrs. Miller as a chaperone of sorts? Would her presence keep the townsfolk from gossiping about them? He hoped it would.

Andrew and Clayton walked out of the barn. Clayton laid the pitchfork he'd had in his hands against the wall. “Where's Ma?” Andrew asked, looking around as if he thought something terrible had happened to their mother.

“In town,” Jacob answered.

Seth motioned for the boys to come closer. “Grab a saddle and take it to the barn.” He turned his attention back to Jacob. “There are only three saddles here.”

Jacob nodded. “Yep, that's all Mr. Grey had that we could buy today. I figured three would do until we got supplies from the Pony Express.”

Seth picked up a bridle and examined the leather. “They won't be sending saddles and bridles. I'll go pick up the women and stop by Mr. Grey's tomorrow. Hopefully, we'll be able to order a couple more of each. What did you find out about hay?”

Jacob sat down on the bed of the wagon. “Mr. Browning has extra hay he can sell to us.”

Seth nodded. He tried to focus on what Jacob was saying about the hay, but couldn't take his mind off Rebecca. What was she doing? Was she packing up Mrs. Miller and laughing? He loved her laugh. Sometimes she laughed softly and brought her hand up to quiet the giggles. Other times she burst out laughing, the sound floating up from her throat, most often at something one of the kids said or did. But her joy was always infectious, bringing a ready smile to others. With the widow coming to live with Rebecca, would their nightly chats on the porch end? Deep down Seth hoped not; he hated to admit it, but he'd miss those chats if they did. Then again, he'd begun to care about Rebecca and that was dangerous.

* * *

The next morning, Seth hitched up the wagon. His stomach growled and he grinned. Joy had decided to make breakfast for everyone and had served burned eggs, bacon and toast. He'd tried not to hurt the little girl's feelings but couldn't quite eat what she served.

It had been fun, though, watching her brothers distract her. While one pretended to eat the breakfast, another would rake theirs onto a plate below the table and pass it to the next one.

Clayton had rustled the plate outside. Seth had no idea what the boy had done with the burned mess once he was out of the house, but was glad that he hadn't had to choke it down. Little Joy had been thrilled to see all their cleaned plates.

Jacob had scolded his sister for cooking without supervision all while trying not to grin. They really were a unique and fun family to be around.

Once the wagon was hitched, he checked in on the boys and Joy. Jacob had taken both Joy and Benjamin under his wing. He had Beni mucking out one of the stalls and Joy rubbing oil into the leather on one of the saddles. Jacob himself forked fresh straw into each of the stalls. The other five boys each had a chore and were busy doing them. Seth sniffed appreciatively. New wood and new leather. What a combination.

“Jacob, I need you to make sure everything runs smoothly while I'm gone.” Seth leaned against the barn door and met the young man's eyes.

Jacob laughed. There was no anger or animosity in his voice when he said, “I was doing that before you came along. I think I can do it again for one day.”

Seth chuckled. “See that you do.”

An hour later, he arrived in town. The streets teemed with people coming and going. He pulled the wagon beside the livery yard. Seth leaped down and walked to the general store. In most towns the general store was the meeting place for everyone. Seth hoped to get a bite to eat and then find out where Mrs. Miller lived. He pushed the door open and the little bell sounded off, announcing his arrival.

The storekeeper came out from behind the counter. “How can I help you, stranger?” he asked.

The place was empty of customers, which surprised Seth. He walked over to the apple bin and pulled out a handful of dried apple. “I mainly came in for directions,” he answered, taking a big bite from the fruit.

“As soon as you pay for the apples, I'll be happy to give you directions,” the big man answered.

Seth looked at the marked price and pulled money from his pocket. “That should cover this handful.” Seth handed it to the storekeeper. “Sorry about that. I forgot myself.”

The big man took the money and walked back to his counter and the register. “Where do you need directions to?” he asked, dropping the coins in the drawer.

“Mrs. Miller's house,” he answered, studying the man while he chewed. The store owner was tall and big-bellied, and his eyes were hard. Nothing about the man appealed to Seth. He seemed like a bully, which might explain why there were no customers in his store.

“Now, what business do you have with that sweet old woman?”

Seth could tell that the man didn't care about the woman but was simply being nosy. “It's a private matter and my own.”

The man nodded. “I see.” He stepped from around the counter and puffed up his chest, all the while tapping the side of his head and squinting as if he'd forgotten something. “You know, my memory isn't as good as it used to be.”

“Then I won't waste any more of your time.” Seth turned on his heels and left the store. He stood on the boardwalk and looked up and down Main Street. The last time he'd been in town he hadn't really taken the time to look around. He figured he had a few minutes and decided to do just that. His eyes scanned each building.

Dove Creek wasn't a very big town. Next to the general store was a small house—he assumed the general-store owner lived in it—and next to it was the doctor's home and office. On the next block sat the bank. It seemed to fill the whole block.

Seth walked toward the bank. Surely the banker would know where Mrs. Miller lived.

He entered the bank and looked about. Dark panel covered the walls and floor. A big desk sat in the middle of the room. He noted offices off to the sides and a staircase that led to the second floor.

Several people stood around the room. A line had formed in front of the bank-teller cage. He noticed that a checkerboard had been set up in one corner of the bank and two elderly gentlemen sat playing the game.

It dawned on Seth that this had become the meeting place of the townspeople instead of the general store. How odd, he thought.

“May I help you?” asked the man sitting at the desk.

Seth walked over to him. “Yes, I am looking for a Mrs. Miller.”

“I'm sorry, no one works here by that name,” the man said, looking down at the pile of papers in front of him.

He realized his mistake and tried again. “No, I don't expect she does. I was wondering if you could direct me to her house.”

Once more the man looked up. “No, I'm not sure that I could and even if I could, I'm not sure that I would or should.” His eyes moved up and down Seth as if assessing his appearance.

“Is there someone here that can tell me?” Seth asked, beginning to feel flustered and realizing that he was drawing quite a bit of attention from the others.

The man sighed and stood. “Wait right here.”

Seth nodded. The man walked toward one of the offices. He knocked on the door and entered shortly afterward. Maybe the bank wasn't the best place to ask for directions, he thought as he waited.

It felt as if everyone watched him, but Seth knew that was ridiculous. The line continued to move where the two bank tellers were working. He looked down at the chair in front of the desk and thought about sitting down to wait, but at that moment the man reappeared.

When he was within hearing distance, he said. “I'm sorry, sir. Bank policy is to not give out personal information on our depositors.”