Robin (7 page)

              John returned to the mercantile, and Emma smiled when he approached the counter.

              “I have your purchases all packaged.”

              “How much this gonna cost me? Robin said somethin’ about needin’ to pay for some things ya gave her.” John sidled to the counter. “Can already see havin’ this woman around is gonna be a high-priced arrangement.” He reached for the gumdrops, but Emma pushed them away.

              “Not gonna cost you anything you can’t afford, John Wenghold. But in case I’m wrong, I’ll not charge you a penny for anything I gave Robin or bundled up for the little fella.”

              “Well, suppose I buy you a steak for lunch. Would that be about even?”

              “Only if I eat the whole critter.” Emma laughed.

              “Do you know Henrietta tried to give me Eunice Parker’s address? Said she always did think we would be good together.
”
Well, jumpin’ bullfrogs. Is that a scowl on Emma’s face? Hmm. Now what’s a fella supposed to think of that?

              Emma tapped John on the shoulder. “You bring Robin and that little guy to church. And don’t pay Henrietta Harvey any mind. Think about the boy. Maybe someone will know something about the stranger who showed up at Ty’s ranch.”

              “Yeah, I suppose that would be best. Now, where’d you put the stuff for the kid?”

              Emma pointed behind the counter. “It’s back here. Didn’t want to have to answer a bunch of questions if someone came in before you got back.”

              John eyed the box of packages then squinted at Emma. “What did you put in them bundles, anyway? There’s gotta be more stuff in there than I got hangin’ on my own hooks at home.”

              “Oh, hush. There isn’t anything there a boy his age doesn’t need. I don’t suppose it occurred to you that he might like something to call his own.”

              “He’s got the whole ranch, Emma. What more could a kid want?” John grinned. No doubt Emma was building up a head of steam. But she was right. Beyond seeing that the boy had three square meals a day, he hadn’t given a thought to more than some new clothing.

              “Go on with you now. You make sure they get back for church when Robin’s ready.” Emma stacked the packages in John’s arms. “Take care you don’t stumble on your way out. I sent some special things for Robin and some of them are breakable.” She opened the door for him and followed him as far as the porch.

              John loaded the packages, then crawled into the wagon and tipped his hat. “Thank ya. Oh, say, Emma?”

              “Forget something?” She shielded her eyes against the sun.

              “Uh . . . well, I was a wonderin’. Would you say I was . . . plain?”

              “Plain?” Emma laughed so hard tears flowed down her cheeks.

              “I don’t think it was all that much to laugh about.” John mumbled.

              She took her handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes. “No, my friend—I say you’re plumb.”

              “Plumb? Well, if that don’t kick granny’s cat. What does that mean . . . plumb?”

              “It means you’re plumb crazy.” Emma laughed and waved.

John flicked the whip across the back of his team, and the wagon lurched
.
Why did I bother asking a woman, anyway?

SEVEN

              “Jacob, quit jumping around. Here take my hand so you don’t get your new clothes dirty before we even get inside.” Robin gathered her skirt in one hand and attempted to match strides with her uncle. “Does the bell ringing mean we’re late?” There didn’t seem to be anyone else lingering in the churchyard, and the last thing she wanted was to walk into Sunday meeting after everyone was seated.

              Emma had sent a new dress with Uncle John, along with assurance that the soft gray cotton was suitable for all occasions. She didn’t want to stand out in the crowd, but this seemed less than stylish. Its square neckline lacked any hint of adornment. A row of small pearl buttons, the only embellishment, marched from the neckline to the waist, and also closed the plain, straight sleeves. The skirt didn’t have enough yardage for fancy petticoats, nor sufficient length to cover her shoes. Would people notice she walked on tiptoe with her left foot to accommodate her bad leg?

“Never been late for church in my life, girly. Don’t aim to start now.”

              She pulled on his arm. “Then could we please slow down? I limp more when I have to hurry, and I don’t care to hobble down the aisle my first time here. I’m sure we’ll create a stir as it is.” She glanced around the churchyard again. “I thought perhaps Ty would wait for us. He said he’d be here.”

              Her uncle gave her a strange look. “Of course he’s here. Ty ain’t never late for meetin’. Not with him being the . . .”

              “Uncle John? Robin?” Jacob tugged Robin’s skirt and jumped from one foot to the other.

              John scowled at him. “Stop that prancin’ around, boy. You promised to sit still once we got here, so start practicin’. Now.”

              Jacob stopped and crossed his legs. “But I gotta . . . I got some business I need to take care of.”

              Robin groaned and turned to John. “Could . . . you?”

              “Oh jumpin’ bullfrogs, boy. Why didn’t you tend to that before we left home?”

              “I did, but that was a long time ago.” He pulled his hand from John’s and pointed. “Who’s that bossy looking lady with her face all mad? Am I in trouble?” He reached for Robin.

              “Oh, there you are, John Wenghold. Don’t you dare make a move until I get there.”

              Robin stared at the stern-faced lady charging in their direction. “Uncle John?”

              “Oh, girly. Plumb forgot to warn you about Henrietta Harvey. She’s—well, there’s no time to explain now. You’ll find out soon enough.”

              The woman huffed her way to them, her mouth moving as fast as her legs. “I was afraid you were going to be late, like you always are. I laid my Bible on our usual pew so nobody would sit there. Room enough for all of us. Come along, dear. I’m Henrietta, by the way, but then I’m sure your uncle has told you all about me.”

              Robin glared at her uncle.

              John rubbed the side of his nose. “I gotta help the boy. Catch up with you later.”

              The woman grabbed Robin’s elbow and propelled her toward the church. Her leg ached as she limped––and Henrietta puffed––their way to the little white building among the trees. How the pudgy lady managed to trot and still have breath enough to talk was beyond her.

              “You’ll notice right off, Miss Robin, that my Albert is such an important part of this church. He’s the one who rings the bell every Sunday. Why, I suppose people would hardly know it was the Sabbath if Albert didn’t faithfully remind them each week.” She leaned toward Robin. “It would please him if you would mention his silk necktie. He bought it yesterday, over at Emma’s. I told him, I said, ‘Albert, we’re going to have a new young lady at church tomorrow, and it wouldn’t do for you to show up in that same old raggedy brown thing you been wearing since your papa’s funeral. Now you hike on over to Emma’s and get you a new one.’ He didn’t much see the need, of course. You know how men don’t like to spend money on themselves. Well, at least my Albert never wastes a penny if he can help it. Thrifty, he is.” She ground to a halt and made a circle around Robin. “And I see you’re frugal, too. One can always change out the pearl buttons for something a bit less showy. I saw some that would do nicely over at Emma’s the other day. Oh, I knew it. I knew it. It’s a match for sure.”

              They stepped into the vestibule, and Robin’s gaze fastened on the bell-ringer. Despite his lanky height, Albert stood on his toes to reach the bell rope. His back was turned, and his hat rocked back and forth like a seesaw with each pull of the rope. Robin bit her cheek to keep from smiling.

              “What did I tell you? See how smoothly he’s able to do that?” Henrietta whispered. “It was my idea to shorten the rope, you know. Shows Albert’s manly form as he pumps up and down, don’t you think?” Henrietta folded her arms across her ample bosom.
“
Psst
.
Albert. She’s here. This is Miss Wenghold. You know—the youn
g
un
-
married woman living with John Wenghold. You can stop ringing the bell now.”

              Albert released the rope, pulled down his jacket then turned and took off his hat. Thinning hair lay in a giant sweep from one ear to the other across the top. One large strand slipped forward and seemed as if given a chance it would return quickly to the fringe around his ears. Wire-framed glasses revealed watery blue eyes. He ran his tongue over his teeth, then smiled and extended his hand.

              “Pleased to meet me, I’m sure . . . no, pleased to mee
t
yo
u
.” He took three quick sucks of air that escaped his nose in a snort.

              Robin’s heart went out to him. Poor man was as nervous about this encounter as she was. “It’s nice meeting you, Mr. Harvey.”

              Albert withdrew his hand and deliberately straightened his necktie.

              Never in her life had Robin seen such a neck dressing. Had Emma helped him? If so—bless her dear heart. Purple with large orange stripes.

              Albert leaned toward Robin. “Emma said she’d been saving this for some handsome young man. Only one she had, and she thought of me first off.”

              “How nice of Emma. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one quite like it.
”
Thank goodness Uncle John is busy with Jacob.

              Henrietta smiled so big her cheeks plumped like little pink pillows. “Ooh, I knew you would be impressed. Oh my. Yes, well, let’s go in and get seated, shall we? I can’t wait to show you off, Miss Wenghold. Why, you and Albert will cause quite a stir.” Henrietta grabbed Robin’s hand and pressed it to the inside of her son’s crooked elbow. “There, you show her in, son. My Bible is in our pew. I’ll sit by Robin. And Albert, you sit on the other side of Robin. Now, where did John go?”

              “He’s helping Jacob, I believe.” Robin smiled at Mrs. Harvey. “I’m sure he’ll find us.”

              Henrietta straightened Albert’s collar. “Of course, he’ll find us. The Harveys have had their own pew since Father Harvey donated the land for the church. Now, who is John helping? Who is this Jacob? Was he the little boy dancing around out there?”

              “Yes, that was Jacob. You see . . .”

              “Miss Wenghold. Is this . . . this Jacob your child?” Henrietta fanned herself with her handkerchief.

              Robin glanced at the people gathered behind them. Standing in the aisle did not lend itself well to this conversation. “Perhaps we should sit down, Mrs. Harvey.”

              “Well, my goodness, I suppose so. I wish John would have said something about the boy. Oh my. I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do about it, though we’ll need to talk about it later. On second thought, Miss Wenghold, you take my arm and Albert will lead us to our bench. Are we ready?”

              Ready or not, Robin would either need to sprint or be dragged down the aisle. Albert’s long legs took one step to her two, and Henrietta followed close on his heels. Robin no longer worried about her limp—it seemed more like a gallop on their way to the Harvey pew.

              “Service doesn’t start until the bell stops ringing. Albert’s that important. Even the preacher waits on him, you see.” Henrietta nudged Robin when they reached the bench with the Bible in the seat. “There, scoot right on in ahead of me. I had this all planned. I wanted you to sit by Albert, but now—oh my, what with the child and all.”

              Robin thought it best at this point not to explain Jacob. The little boy may have given her a way out of a rather prickly situation.

              “Preacher will come from that little room back there.” Henrietta smoothed her skirt and retrieved a fan from her reticule, which she unfolded with a flick of her wrist. “He’s young, but surely knows how to give out God’s Word. Sad, though. Such a big ranch to run, and then the duties of the church. He surely does need a helpmeet. Had a lovely local young lady destined to become his wife, but she left almost exactly a year ago. Oh, but is he ever going to be surprised today.”

              Henrietta’s fan sent a spicy waft of cloves in Robin’s direction, and she wrinkled her nose. Cloves always made her nose twitch. Papa would laugh and call her his funny bunny, but it wasn’t at all humorous. Pinching her nose shut was the only way to stop the twitch. An inappropriate gesture, given she was seated beside Henrietta Harvey in church.

Other than Mrs. Harvey’s rather dated green taffeta, it relieved Robin to observe that most women in the congregation were dressed in a similar fashion as she. And her pearl buttons were less showy than most. She must remember to thank Emma. Mama would be pleased to know she’d not made a spectacle of herself
.
You must be careful, daughter. One can draw attention from both directions, you know. It’s important you not appear aloof, nor one to be pitied. There’s no need to cause others to feel uncomfortable for you.

              Oh for goodness sake, Margaret
—
Papa would reply
—
let the girl be. All little birds preen now and again
.
Happy memories of her papa squeezed Robin’s heart. She’d not preen, to satisfy Mama. But would Ty notice?

“I do declare”—Henrietta elbowed Robin’s rib—“the preacher’s in for the surprise of his life today. Why, I can hardly wait. Oh, here comes John and that . . . that boy.” Henrietta scooted her hip against Robin, forcing her closer to the end of the bench. “I do hope John remembered to wash the child’s hands.”

              Albert leaned across his mother and gave Robin a wan smile as Jacob climbed across his feet and scrunched between her and Henrietta.

              Robin returned the smile
.
Poor Albert. He looks every bit as miserable as I feel
.
She patted Jacob’s knee. Henrietta’s full skirt nearly hid the poor tyke.

Jacob wiggled into position to face her and his elbow poked into her hip. “Is it over, yet?”

              Robin laid her finger on his lips and shook her head.

              “This is the day the Lord has made.” A familiar voice broke the hush.

              Henrietta motioned for her to stand with the congregation as they chorused in unison “We shall be glad and rejoice in it.”

              Robin’s breath caught, and tears clouded her eyes when they locked onto Ty Morgan’s face.

              “How come Ty talked?” Jacob’s words seemed to bounce from the walls.

             
“
Psst
.
” Henrietta tugged on her skirt.

              Robin’s knees shook and she sat with a plunk.

              “For pity sakes, girl. If you don’t know what to do, follow what everyone else is doing. And keep that child quiet. Hasn’t he ever been in a church before?” Henrietta shook Jacob’s shoulder.

              Robin sat Jacob on her lap and gave the woman a withering stare
.
How dare she touch this child in such a rude manner?

              She should have known. Ty as the preacher explained a lot of her questions the past two weeks. His efforts to win Jacob’s trust. Their long talks after the boy was in bed—the words he spoke and the words he left unspoken. Had she imagined what those words were and what they meant? What she dreamed might be attraction for her was nothing more than a preacher fulfilling his obligation. Call it what you like . . . in reality it was pity. She bit her lower lip in an effort to control a sob. How could she have been so confused? Was she so eager to be loved and accepted that she mistook a preacher’s kindness for affection?

              “I don’t like that lady,” Jacob pointed at Henrietta, but at least he managed to whisper this time.

              Bless his heart. She didn’t much like her either.

              She closed her eyes. The next time the congregation stood she would take Jacob out and leave. The ranch was too far to walk, but perhaps she could make it to Emma’s.

              A murmur through the congregation interrupted her thoughts. An older lady and a younger woman slid into the row in front of her. The woman wore a deep blue dress that matched her eyes and accentuated her white, stylishly coiffed hair. A single strand of pearls lay atop the pin-tucked bodice. A flawless complexion belied her probable age.