Serendipity (25 page)

“Put me back to bed.”

“Nay. When Mr. Walker returns today, you’d be embarrassed to be caught lazing around.” Maggie didn’t give Ma a chance to argue. She positioned her at the table, then hurried to join her husband.

Adam and Eve dragged the plow back and forth, breaking the sod for the vegetable plot. Thick as it was, only the horses’ combined strength made the task bearable. Riding Adam, Maggie echoed the orders Todd called as he manned the gang plow. Both blades bit into the earth, fighting against hundreds of years of stubborn grass roots tangled deep into the soil. Row after row yielded to their brute strength. “Haw!” she called, and the Belgians obeyed, veering slightly. Twenty feet more . . . fifteen . . . five . . . “Whoa!”

After turning the plow to go the opposite direction, Todd grinned. Exposed dark, rich soil gave a promise of good yield. “Hitched to the Belgians, this goes as easy as a spoon through stew. To prepare my other fields, my horses and John’s took a whole day to accomplish this much.”

“We’ll have acres done in no time.” Looking back at the field, Maggie slid off Adam. “Soon we’ll have a bounty for our table. It’s frosty in the morn. Unless you say otherwise, I’m thinking we might need to wait a bit before planting. I’ll want to put in sweet corn, cabbage, potatoes, onions, and some melons.”

“Watermelons are already putting out runners. It’s too late. Gardening here is different because of the drought.”

“So what’s the normal rainfall?”

Todd let out a heavy sigh. “There is no such thing as normal with weather. There is an average, but each year varies. The driest year so far was last year, with ten and a half inches. The greatest known was forty-one. The
Farmers’ Almanac
says this year will be as parched as last.” Just like the earth they worked, lines plowed furrows across his brow. He said nothing about how the lack of water would impact the yield of all their crops.

“Kickin’ a tin can won’t open it.” Maggie smiled at him. Her man needed her to prop him up. “Bellyaching about a lack of water or watermelons won’t make a difference, either. We’ll plant extra cantaloupe, and I can swap neighbors for watermelons and tomatoes.”

“Tomorrow at church, ask Widow O’Toole or Hope Stauffer when to plant. Widow O’Toole’s known for her garden, and Jakob, Hope’s husband, has farmed here the longest. Their advice would be best.”

“Uncle Bo encouraged me to seek counsel from others with more experience. The Flinn twins always knew the weather and planting times best.” Just mentioning their names swamped Maggie with homesickness. Squinting at something afar, Todd seemed preoccupied.

Heart heavy, she turned away. “Whilst you rest the beasts, I’ll go check on Ma.”

Drawing near the house, Maggie spied the end of a wagon. Hastening to make sure Ma was okay, she threw open the door and stopped cold. Ma sat at the table with two strangers. Nothing but crumbs and an empty loaf pan sat on the table.
The prune bread! She
gave them the prune bread I baked specially for Todd!

“Mr. Walker couldn’t make it.” Ma took a stitch – only the third – but it was a start. Even if she did it for show, it was progress. “These gentlemen came for him, and they’ve already hung the door.”

“Now that’s good to hear. Thank you.”

One belched loudly as the other rose. “Come on out to the wagon and we’ll see to the rest, Mrs. Valmer.”

Ma answered, “I’ll take care of it here.”

Breath freezing in her lungs, Maggie searched for the best way of handling this. “I’ll be back in a jiffy, Ma.”

Brows wrinkled, one man looked at the other. “Did Boss say which Mrs. Valmer – ”

“I’m Mrs. Valmer,” Maggie forced a smile. “Ma’s surname is Crewel. Let’s go on out to the wagon.”

A minute later the man said, “Boss got too busy to get the wood last night. He sent this instead.”

An odd item lay clear across the flatbed wagon. “What is it?”

The men exchanged a quick look. “It’s practically a ready-made porch. Which side of the door d’ya want it on?”

Maggie ran her hand along the upraised edges. “This is going to cause trouble with Ma’s wheelchair. I traded for lumber because it needs to be flat.”

“Boss wanted to be fair. Said if you liked, he’d throw in this canvas. To make an awning. Just in case, he sent some rods. That must be some chair he’s getting from you.”

The fast-talking man’s trying to saddle me with a skunk.
“Bartering requires honor. Mr. Walker dealt for a special, one-of-a-kind item, and he’s sending castoffs instead of prime goods. You already hung the door, but I’m a-gonna have to have you men take it back down.”

“Aw, c’mon, lady.”

The other leaned against the wagon. “Mr. Walker’s not a man to be crossed, ma’am. And your man won’t have to waste any time making a deck for the old cripple – ”

“Now you’ve done it.” Maggie stepped back and set her hands on her hips. “You just hightail it on out of here. I won’t stand for anyone to be disrespectful. My man’ll return the outhouse door.”

The other got a stricken look on his face. “He didn’t mean it the way it sounded!”

“Sure and certain enough, he did. You just go tell your boss the deal’s off.” She turned around and practically bounced off Todd’s chest.

“You heard my wife.” Todd wrapped his arm around her waist and stared at them.

As the men drove off, Maggie poked Todd in the chest. “You’re stealthy as a mountain cat on the prowl. I nigh unto leapt out of my boots when I found you behind me.”

“What are you doing dealing with Mr. Walker in the first place?” Todd set her away from him and kept hold of her upper arms.

His curiosity pleased her. Uncle Bo always wanted to know with whom she’d traded, how they met, and the details of the deal. “Piet told him about the good-luck gambling chair, and he sought it.” “Which tells you much about his character!”

“Aye, it warned he’s a rogue with more money than scruples.” Todd worried about her. Wasn’t that sweet? She leaned a little closer. He smelled of fresh, rich earth and radiated a warmth that tempted her to give him a hug – but she wasn’t that brazen. “Ma’s too embarrassed to use the seat, and we have no space for it. Better to barter it than burn it. I can’t abide waste.”

“I will get what we need.”

“I don’t doubt that in the least. Best thing you got us was this farm full of rich soil. That will provide for us now and for generations to come.” She bobbed her head. “Aye. And as your helpmeet, I’m supposed to work alongside you. I was just doing my part.”

Lightning flashed from his eyes, and his voice went thunderously low. “Dealing with the saloon owner? Getting a pool table?”

“A table that’s a pool? So we could have ourselves some ducks and geese?”

Yanking off his hat, Todd made an impatient sound. “Nein. It is a game. Sticks hit balls into holes. Men place bets and play it.”

“Well, it’s good I held my ground and sent them packing. They already hung a door on the outhouse – ”

“I heard.” A muscle in his cheek twitched. “There was nothing wrong with a blanket.”

Jehoshaphat, he was prickly as a jar of toothpicks. “We’ll go on ahead and make do with that blanket until God sends a door.”

“God will not use a saloon owner to deliver what He wants.”

“Most often, I’d agree with you.” A quick kiss on the cheek never failed to sweeten her uncles’ sour moods. Did she dare?
What’s
a-wrong with me? A minute ago, I wouldn’t hug him and now I’m
considering a kiss? Dour as he’s getting, I’ve got to do something quick.
Maggie went up on tiptoe and gave Todd’s cheek a quick peck. Pleased with herself, she got a little sassy. “But the story of Balaam comes to mind. God spoke through a donkey. Is a saloon owner then not a possibility?”

“Your words were as disappointing as your kiss.” Todd yanked her close and kissed her silly. Her knees went weak, and when he drew back, he demanded, “You will work on both.”

“Both what?”

A smug smile tilted his lips. “Your words and your kisses. You will work on them.”

“That sure didn’t seem like work to me just now.” As soon as the words slipped out, Maggie smacked a hand over her mouth.

“Then you can put more effort in thinking about what you say.”

The bell rang from inside the cabin. “It’s time for Ma’s nap. Could you go put her to bed whilst I . . .” Maggie’s face went pink as she nodded toward the outhouse.

“Sure.”

She went around the house to the necessary and stopped in her tracks. “Oh no!”

Yanking out his sheath knife, Todd dashed out of the house and around to the back. Maggie stood stock-still, eyes huge. Rapidly scanning about her, he didn’t see any snakes or critters, so what was she –

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Husband, no matter how much I work on what I say, I won’t ever find the right words for that.”

Following the direction in which she’d pointed, he stared at the outhouse. It now sported a fancy swinging saloon door. “Magpie!” His roar made her jump.

“Excuse me.” She ran past him, through that swinging batwing door, and out of sight.

The stupid thing worked perfectly. Upset as he was at her for bartering as if he couldn’t provide well enough, Todd didn’t mean to frighten her. He could hear her muttering about wishes coming true, too. The roads her mind traveled were plotted with an eggbeater, not a ruler. He went back into the house.

“What’s all the ruckus? Didn’t we get my porch?”

“Porch.” That’s what his bride traded for? She got rid of that ridiculous chair and thought of something to make Ma happy. Instead of leaving her inside all the time, they’d be able to bring her out and have a special place for her. Lumber for a porch would cost a chunk. The outhouse door was undoubtedly a little extra Maggie dickered for – not her primary goal. At least Maggie didn’t stand for the devious exchange. His bride tried to kill two birds with one stone: pampering Ma and getting rid of something in the barn. And wasn’t that what he wanted?

“Well? Where’s my porch? The outhouse door is up, and I’ve waited all morning for my porch.”

“Mr. Walker tried to cheat us. Maggie wouldn’t accept what he sent as a porch.”

“Why not? Anything would be better than the dirt and pebbles out there.”

“Then whatever I come up with to serve as a porch should please you.” He put Ma back in her bed. “Putting in the garden comes first. You’ll have to be patient.”

“I’m thinking since we’ve already paused,” Maggie said from the doorway, “we could grab sandwiches and take them back out with us. That’ll allow us to work in an extra row.”

“Excellent!”

Ma jerked on his sleeve. “Speaking of excellent, those men ate every last bite of your prune bread, Magpie.”

Shoulders sagging, his bride sighed. “I made it for you, Todd.”

“Spared this time,” Ma said in a low tone.

From Maggie’s bewildered expression, Todd knew she heard the unkind comment. His wife deserved to be praised. “Ja. We spared our treat for their sake. It was a good thing.” The smile that started to flicker on Maggie’s face melted. Todd quickly tacked on, “Texas is known for hospitality.”

“Son, isn’t Texas also known for tall tales?”

“And longhorns.” Todd shot Ma a quelling look. She’d grown downright ornery. “Take a nap, and we’ll tell you all about the garden at supper. Together, we are getting far more done than I dared hope. My Margaret is a hardworking woman.”

They headed back to the garden and stopped at the windmill to fill a bucket. Maggie gave him a shy smile. “I’m glad you’re pleased with my labor.”

“I’m not.”

Her gasp almost knocked her off her feet.

Grinning, he pulled her close. “I told you to work on your kisses, and you’ve not done a thing about that all day.”

“All day? You only just gave me that order, and I’ll remind you, Todd Valmer, I’m not a hussy!”

Trailing one finger down her cheek, crooking it beneath her chin, and lifting her face, he looked into her eyes. “I’m not interested in a hussy. I want a warm, loving wife.” He dipped his head and waited until his lips were a mere breath away to murmur, “Get to work.”

Fast as lightning, she wheeled around and made it a single step before he captured her. “What was that?”

Glee lit her face. “That, Husband, was
Love’s Labour’s Lost
.”

Feisty woman. He arched a brow. “Forget Shakespeare for a minute. I far prefer Milton’s titles.” He kissed her until she melted in his arms, then whispered in her ear,
“Paradise Regained.”

It took her a minute before she whispered in a husky tone, “What about
Paradise Lost
?”

“That was last night.” Chuckling at her blush, he kept one arm around her waist and went back to the field.

When the horses rested later, Maggie checked Ma and started supper. Todd filled every bucket they owned and set them in the sun so they’d enjoy decent baths. Good thing, too. They came home dirty as peasants in a mud puddle. Though Maggie sponge bathed Ma and washed her hair, Ma fussed and grumbled that she hadn’t had a decent bath.

Exasperated, Todd finally said, “Ma, you don’t need a bath. You spent all day soaking in self-pity.” She let out an outraged sound, and he glowered at her. “Don’t be a dog in the manger.”