Prairie Fire (22 page)
“Food is all gone from cakewalk,” Rolf Rustemeyer said, coming up beside Caitrin. “I gif away already six pies, three cakes, and whole jar of peppermint sticks.”
“Peppermint sticks?” Caitrin looked up into the German’s smiling face. “But they weren’t meant to be part of the cakewalk. We sell them in the store.”
He shrugged. “I haf no more cakes and pies. Then I see peppermint sticks on counter, gif to children. Is okay?”
“Yes, it’s okay,” she said with a sigh. She hoped nobody else manning a booth would decide to give away merchandise as prizes.
“Is time for danzing now,
ja?
” Rolf slipped his heavy arm around Caitrin’s shoulders. “You look fery beautiful tonight, Miss Murphy. Danz vit me?”
“Well, I—” Caitrin looked up to see Jack Cornwall and his mother stepping into the room. “Oh, the guests of honor are here! Excuse me, Rolf. I must ask Seth to introduce them. I wonder what they’ve done with Lucy.”
Catching Jack’s eye, she hurried away from Rolf. Poor Rolf! He was such a fine man, and so earnest. But Caitrin could hardly imagine an evening clomping around the dance floor with him, let alone a lifetime. He was desperate to marry, and Rosie had been his first choice. When she had elected to wed Seth Hunter instead, he turned his attentions to Caitrin. She was
not
desperate, however, and she certainly had no desire to marry in haste.
“Marriages are all happy,” she muttered, quoting her mother’s favorite Irish proverb. “It’s having breakfast together that causes all the trouble.”
She caught up with Seth beside the dessert table and asked him to announce the newcomers. Though everyone in the room already knew the Cornwalls by reputation, it would help their standing in the community if Seth would give them a public welcome. After avowing he wasn’t much for speech giving, he motioned the band into silence and climbed up on a chair.
“I want to thank everybody for coming tonight,” he said. “Are you folks having a good time?”
The question was answered with a cacophony of whoops and hollers. Caitrin made her way across the room to Jack. Dressed in a clean white shirt and the gray trousers of his army uniform, he had clearly done his best to spiffy up for the occasion. Caitrin began to wish she’d taken time to arrange her hair and change into a fancy dress.
“Where’s Lucy?” she whispered, as Seth welcomed by name the various families in the community.
Jack shook his head. “Mama didn’t want to bring her along. The chains, you know.”
“Did Lucy want to come?”
“Hard telling. She didn’t say much—although she spent the whole day yesterday washing that blue dress. This morning she ironed it stiff as a sheet of tin.”
“She
wants
to be with us, Jack. Please go and fetch her.”
“Better not. We’ve got her locked up safe. She’ll be all right, and I’ll go check on her now and again.”
Caitrin twisted her hands together. “Oh, please bring Lucy, Jack. How will she ever be accepted if she’s locked away as though she has some shameful disease?”
“She does … in a manner of speaking.”
“I’m not ashamed of her. Are you?”
“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “All the same, if there’s any trouble—”
“I’ll take the blame, so I will,” Caitrin said. “Gladly.”
Jack let out a breath of resignation and started for the door. Seth’s words stopped him. “We wanted to get together tonight,” his former brother-in-law said, “to welcome the newest folks in Hope. I know a lot of you have been watching the smithy going up across the road. Well, that’s Jack Cornwall’s new place of business, and we’re glad to have him here. If you need a new branding iron or a pair of tongs, Jack’s the man to see. And I have it straight from the horse’s mouth—or maybe I should say the mule’s mouth—that he can nail on a shoe quicker than anybody around. Rumor has it he’s never been bit or kicked either. Now how many of you can say that?”
Amid the chuckles, Seth continued. “Jack is a good man, an honest worker, and my son’s favorite uncle. I’m proud to call him a friend. Folks, would you give a nice welcome to Jack Cornwall?”
Caitrin held her breath as the smattering of claps gradually grew into a swell of applause. She noted that the crowd had looked uneasy at Seth’s warm welcome of his former enemy. She really couldn’t blame them for their misgivings after the things Jack had done in the past. Though Hope might appreciate having a smithy, Jack Cornwall himself was still on probation.
As Jack acknowledged the welcome and then slipped out to fetch Lucy, Seth began to introduce Felicity Cornwall. Caitrin belatedly remembered that years ago her husband had run off Seth with a shotgun and that the Cornwalls had treated their daughter’s husband as if he didn’t exist. But Seth had managed to grow beyond his own memories of past hurts. He reminded everyone that Mrs. Cornwall was a recent widow, and he quoted Scripture admonishing Christians to take care of orphans and widows.
Rosie must have put him up to that,
Caitrin thought.
“Welcome to Hope, Mrs. Cornwall,” Seth said. “We trust you’ll be happy here.”
Patting her silver-streaked hair, the woman nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Hunter. I always do my best to find a measure of joy in whatever circumstance God has placed me—no matter how bleak.”
A rumble of mutterings at her comment crossed the room. Mrs. Cornwall simply stood there looking as though she’d just eaten one of Sheena’s dill pickles. Caitrin studied the woman in disbelief. Did she
enjoy
causing dissent? Could she possibly think God wanted his holy name included in the context of an insult?
“Now we’re going to dance awhile,” Seth said, holding out his hands to quell the tide of dissent. “And then we’ll have us a quilt auction!”
The roar of enthusiasm drowned out any bad feelings in the crowd, and the band struck up a lively square-dance tune that drew everyone from toddlers to grandparents to the middle of the floor. Rolf strode across the room and grabbed Caitrin before she could protest. As he charged around in circles, occasionally stomping her hem with one of his big work boots, she saw Jack and Lucy slip into the shadows in one corner of the room.
“Ouch, you great galoot!” Caitrin cried when Rolf’s attempt at a two-step landed his foot directly on her big toe. “Oh, Mr. Rustemeyer, you really must take some lessons.”
“I take many lessons. Talk English fery goot now,
ja?
”
“You need dancing lessons.” She looked into his eyes and saw that he wasn’t having much more fun at this than she.
Dear God,
please send someone for Rolf,
she lifted up.
And don’t let it be me!
“Ven you marry vit me, is okay the mercantile,” Rolf said. “I don’t get angry. You can vork all days until baby comes.”
“When I marry you?” Caitrin repeated numbly, her feet slowing. “Sure, I never agreed to marry you, Mr. Rustemeyer.”
“Ach!”
He stopped dancing and gave his forehead a sound slap.
“In German,
wenn
means
if.
I say this one wrong. I mean,
if
you marry me, is okay the mercantile.”
“But I’m not going to marry you, Rolf,” Caitrin whispered. “I … I love someone else.”
“
Ja
, Sheena tells me about
der Irländer
you lof. But he is far away gone. Better you not to be alone. Better you to marry,
ja?
”
“Perhaps,” Caitrin said, meeting Jack Cornwall’s gray eyes. “Perhaps.”
A
S SOON as she could disengage herself, Caitrin hurried over to the corner where Jack Cornwall stood beside his sister. Though Lucy looked haggard and pale, she had dressed in the silky blue gown Caitrin had given her, and she had made an attempt to put up her hair. A flicker of life leapt into her gray eyes as her friend approached.
“Lucy, you came!” Caitrin said, extending her hands.
“Oh …” Lucy drew back for a moment. Then she let out a breath and clasped the outstretched fingers. “Caitrin.”
“That dress is positively stunning on you.”
“Well, I …”
Lucy fell silent, and Caitrin waited.
“I got it dirty the other day,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just … I can’t …”
“It looks lovely tonight.” Caitrin took a tentative step forward and folded the trembling young woman in her arms. “I’m so happy to see you, Lucy. I was sorry to hear you weren’t feeling well. Sure, you’ve no idea how I’ve missed your cinnamon buns for breakfast.”
When Caitrin drew back, Lucy was smiling. “I just … I … I like to bake.”
“And when we build our restaurant, the food will be famous thanks to you.”
“Would you make some cinnamon buns for me, Luce?” Jack asked. “I’ve never tasted your cooking.”
Lucy pursed her lips for a moment. “Usually I wear those … those chains.”
She pointed to the iron handcuffs hanging from Jack’s back trouser pocket, and Caitrin frowned. “I’m quite certain those aren’t necessary tonight,” she said. “Why did you bring them, Jack?”
“Just in case.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “You know, Lucy’s not real comfortable around crowds of people.”
“Who is? I’d far rather be sitting in the soddy eating cinnamon buns and drinking tea with Lucy than allowing Rolf Rustemeyer to make minced meat of my toes. But here we are, and we’ll make the best of it. Lucy, would you like something to drink?”
The wide gray eyes turned to her. “Punch,” Lucy whispered. “And a slice of pie, please.”
Caitrin gave Jack a victory smile. “I’ll fetch us all something to eat.”
When she returned, they still were seated side by side in the half-dark corner of the mercantile. Lucy was tapping her toe in time to the music, and Jack had managed to slip his hand around his sister’s. Caitrin could have wept.
Father, please,
she pleaded in silent prayer. And when she couldn’t think of words adequate to express her feelings, she turned the matter over to the Holy Spirit.
Groanings,
she thought.
Oh, God, my soul groans for Lucy.
“This is one of my favorite tunes,” Lucy shared as Caitrin joined her on the narrow bench. “Mary used to dance to this tune. But now … now Mary’s …”
“Would you like to dance with me, Luce?” Jack asked his sister.
“No,” she whispered. “You and Caitrin. Please, dance together.”
Jack glanced at Caitrin, and she read the uncertainty in his eyes. Leave Lucy alone, and who knew what might happen? He would not likely abandon his sister.
“Where is your mother?” Caitrin asked. “She could sit with Lucy.”
Jack grunted. “Mama’s over there by the table. I don’t want to bother her.”
“Sure, I can’t see why not. She’s only arranging the food—setting pies and cakes this way or that. Fetch her at once, Jack. She’ll accompany Lucy while you and I dance.”
Jack raked a hand through his thick brown hair. “Mama’s had an ornery look on her face ever since I brought Lucy in here. She won’t cotton to—”
“Mama doesn’t like me to go out in public,” Lucy said. “She’s afraid I’ll … I’ll say something or do something shameful.”
“Oh, Lucy, I’m sure that isn’t so.”
“I can stay here,” she whispered to her brother. “I’ll watch you dance. I would like it.”
“Well, I don’t know.” Jack studied his sister. “You might get to thinking about things.”
“I’ll try not to. I promise.”
Caitrin understood the man’s concern, but she couldn’t help feeling that this overprotectiveness was bad for Lucy. The young woman seemed fine at the moment, drumming her fingertips on her knees and chewing a bite of apple pie.
What is it that eats away
inside Lucy, Father? What are these terrible secrets that gnaw at her
soul and tangle her reason?
“I don’t think dancing is such a great idea,” Jack said finally. “We’d better stay close.”
Caitrin glanced at Lucy and absorbed the longing in her eyes.
“Please escort me to the floor, Jack. After the dance, Lucy and I shall watch the quilt auction together. It’s to start right after this song.”
“Go on, Jack,” Lucy said.
“Come along, Mr. Cornwall.” Caitrin stood and looped her arm around his elbow. “If you don’t take me out onto the floor at once, my feet will simply start dancing of their own accord.”
“I’ll be right back, Lucy,” he said as he drew Caitrin into the midst of the crowd. The moment he stepped away from the darkened corner, a familiar teasing light filtered into his eyes. “Feet dancing on their own? Now that would be a sight. Allow me to ease your distress, madam.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
As Jack Cornwall whirled Caitrin through the crowd, she thought he was the most thrilling partner she had ever had. Though he wouldn’t know the intricate steps of the Irish dances Sean O’Casey had performed, she began to understand that her young love’s action had been just that—a performance. Sean had displayed his theatrical style with all the flair of a strutting rooster. Caitrin had been a flattering arm piece, a perfect foil to direct everyone’s attention to the man himself.
But Jack Cornwall’s focus was riveted to his partner. His whispered compliments sent her head spinning. His strong arms kept her close. He escorted her down a promenade, circled left and right, and fairly lifted her from the ground as they stayed in step with the music. By the time the music slowed, she was breathless.
“That was a delight!” she exclaimed. “I can’t think when I’ve had such fun.”
Jack gave her an extra twirl that lifted her skirts from her ankles. Laughing, she clapped her hands together as he caught her against his chest, dipped her low, and touched her lips in a warm kiss. “Caitrin Murphy,” he said, “I could get lost in those green Irish eyes.”
But when he lifted his head and looked across the room at his sister, his face sobered. Caitrin followed the direction of his gaze to find Lucy huddled into herself and staring blankly down at her lap.
“She’s thinking about her troubles again,” he said in a disheartened voice.
“I’ve missed your sister greatly,” Caitrin whispered. “How is she, Jack? Please tell me the truth.”
“Sometimes—like tonight—I start to think she’s perking up. I tell myself I don’t see any trouble, even when it starts to crop up again. I try to convince myself it’s all right that Lucy sleeps day and night, and she won’t get out of bed even to eat. Maybe she’s just tired, I think. And when she sits staring at her lap for hours on end, I try to believe she’s working out some kind of a tricky problem or something. But after a while, it’s no use pretending.”