Serendipity (34 page)

After church the next day, the men milled about and discussed the weather. Underlying it all was an ominous threat. Ranchers and farmers alike worried that they’d lose everything. Todd watched the bank manager hasten home. He attended worship, but he didn’t want to mix business with church. Too many of the congregation owed money and couldn’t meet their obligations.

“I don’t envy his position,” Pastor Bradle said at lunch. “He can’t loan to men who desperately need funds because they’re so close to the edge and the risk is too great. One minute of gratitude when he first makes the loan, then men resent him for years to come. I’m afraid it’s going to get worse.”

Maggie set down her fork. “We’ll be sure to invite him out to supper.”

“At that rate, you’ll be inviting a handful of other people, too,” Big Tim Creighton said. He, Sydney, and baby Rose were also the Bradles’s guests. “Places like Clark’s Mercantile have extended credit and all sorts of grace periods. They own the feed and lumber and are having to turn away requests.”

“Well, I have a request.” Sydney shifted the baby to her other arm. “Tim said the carriage feels wrong. I’m afraid to ride home in it until the Van der Vorts check it. Could you give us a lift as far as your place?”

“If, perchance, we hopped off at our place and let you drive our buckboard on over to your ranch, could Ma hold the baby? I’ll tie my plaid to form a pocket that’ll keep Rosie safe and warm against Ma.” Maggie waggled her brows. “And I’ll have you know ’tis the proper clan for your daughter: Clan Rose!”

Tim and Sydney exchanged an uncertain look. Todd didn’t want them put on the spot. He cleared his throat. “That plaid is mighty soft, too.”

Not long thereafter Maggie and Sydney sat on either side of Ma’s chair in the back of the buckboard. Pocketed in the Rose plaid, baby Rose slept the whole way home. Ma curled her right arm around her and beamed.

While the women chatted, Todd took off his hat and wiped his brow. “Hotter than ever out here.”

“Drier, too.” Big Tim grimaced. “My catch basin is bone-dry and my pond is down to half of what it ought to be. I went through this once before, and we had beef dying on the hoof.”

Never Forsaken had a better water supply than any of the other ranches or farms. His admission underscored the desperation they all faced. Tim added, “Checkered Past is drilling for the third time, and still they haven’t tapped into water.”

“My water is still clear. Several others have to strain their drinking water.”

Watching crops and livestock fail was one thing; with hard work, they could be replaced. Losing a clean supply of drinking water risked loved ones. The men exchanged bleak looks as Todd pulled up to his place.

“We cannot be home yet,” Ma complained. “I want to hold the baby longer. Take us for a Sunday ride.”

Tim teased Ma and helped get her into the cabin. Walking back to join Maggie and Sydney, Todd overheard his wife. “I’m thanking you from the bottom of my heart. I’d never suggest anything that would put little Rosie in danger. Your kindness earned the first smile I’ve ever seen on Ma.”

Tim held his daughter and pulled his wife closer with his other arm. “You don’t know what worry is until you have a family.”

“You got what you asked for. Don’t complain now.” Sydney gave him a feisty grin.

“No man knows what he’s asking for when he proposes. Does he, Todd?”

“Absolutely not.”

A look of mock outrage on her face, Sydney declared, “You knew more or less what you were getting, Tim Creighton.”

“More
and
less.” Tim’s voice softened. “Less than I thought I knew; far, far more than I imagined.”

As they rode off, Maggie wore a winsome expression. “Daddy loved Mama like that.”

The undertone in her voice tugged at him. Todd refused to feign what he didn’t feel. Then again, he’d said love would grow – even promised her uncle that he’d court her.
I’ve done well at that so
far – I made a bed in the loft for us, didn’t I? And I got up early and
took care of the furniture.

Maggie avoided looking at him when he remained silent. Wrapping her arms around herself, she rasped, “I’d better get my apron back on.”

“Your uncle warned me you grew up on fairy tales.” Todd let out a frustrated growl. Though he hadn’t meant to fling hurtful words at her back, she’d turned around at the same time he spoke.

In that momentary pause, Maggie lifted her head and squared her shoulders. “Aye, it’s true.” The lilt in her voice disappeared. That was bad enough, but she blinked rapidly.

Reaching out, he captured her shoulder. “Margaret – ” He sounded too gruff. “Maggie . . .” He ought to say something more now to reassure her – but what? Suddenly, it came to him. “We are doing well. Remember? On the train, I said life was good with God in my heart, crops in the field, and you in my arms.”

“God is in your heart, and there are crops in the field and a vegetable garden ready to plant.” She drew a deep breath.

There, she understood. He relaxed.

Until he realized she had focused on his hand. On her shoulder.

Thick-hearted man!
her heart cried out, but Maggie couldn’t afford to allow him to see how deeply his indifference wounded her. Likewise, she refused to pretend everything was right . . . let alone good.

“I’m not in your arms; you hold me at arm’s length – and not just this moment. You keep your heart and mind every bit as far from me.”

His hand tightened on her infinitesimally, then he dropped his arm.

“And I’ll be changing my mind, as is a woman’s right.” Gathering her nerve, she looked him in the eye. “I didn’t grow up on fairy tales. I grew up with them. Surrounded by them, aware every moment my parents were together or Uncle Bo and Aunt Maude kept me under their roof that love might well have been pouring straight out of the windows and door, yet there was still so much it spurted out the chimney top, too.” The torrent of the emotion and the flood of memories robbed her of her breath.

“Our marriage is ours.” His words vibrated with restraint. “Yours and mine. And God’s. What others did or had was their marriage. I spoke of fairy tales, not of family. Someday, our marriage can be as strong as any – but it cannot be built on a foundation that is chipped away with comparisons.”

She turned away again. “I need to change out of my Sunday best.” As she walked to the house, she avoided looking at the words they’d put in the cement.

Like it or not, he had a strong point. It wasn’t right for her to compare him to other husbands. She was to love him just as he was, not the way she hoped he’d be. Sure, she’d like some changes, but she did love the lummox.

Tomorrow was Monday – her turn to give him a token of love.
Aye, and that’s just what I need to do. Keep reminding him that love
grew despite rocky soil. Todd needs me to teach him how. Aunt Maude
had to wait two years until Uncle Bo finally showed her how precious
she was. I don’t want to wait that long.
Still, she’d do things that spoke to a man’s heart, and he’d make gestures back. Soon he’d realize they weren’t empty gestures on his part. She had to keep hope.

After a light supper, Todd sat at the table, reading a farm journal aloud. “There are some recipes here.”

“For anything good?” Ma’s comment set Maggie’s teeth on edge. “It’s been weeks since we’ve had
kase knoephla
. You always liked my kase knoephla
.
And yeast bread. Remember my loaves, how you couldn’t wait for them to cool?”

“Your bread was always tasty, Ma.” He named off several of the recipes, his voice rich with enthusiasm.

Soda bread, biscuits, corn bread – those were what she made. With no means of refrigeration, she couldn’t keep a cake of yeast. Most of the foods he mentioned, she’d never heard of, let alone made. And Ma kept egging him on, reminding him of how much he liked the food she used to prepare. The third time Ma mentioned bread, Maggie said, “I’ll see about trading for some yeast.”

“Sehr
gut
!” Todd flashed a smile at her. “And then Ma can teach you to cook.”

At last! At last she had a job. She’d prove her worth. Helga could scarcely sleep that night. Lying in bed, she made menus and determined she’d teach Magpie how to cook like a good farmwife.

And baking! They’d have so much fun. Raisin cream pie. Shoofly pie. Pumpkin custard. Cinnamon rolls. And she’d demonstrate using a knife to carve wheat stalks on the piecrust, like a farmer’s wife should – not a design of berries or cherries like Maggie did. Then, too, Maggie always cut a cross on the top of a loaf of that heavy soda bread prior to baking it. Odd. The girl was odd as a three-eyed trout.

Why, it would be almost as if Helga was doing all the work herself. Todd’s wife would be her hands.

All day long, Helga tried to teach Maggie everything she could work in – a quick way to tighten the broom since it was dropping straws, how to tell when the farmer’s cheese was starting to curdle, and how to make
pfeffernuesse
.

Some things, Maggie acted glad to learn. Others, she dug in her heels. Helga did her best to ease past those rough patches, pointing out that farmer’s cheese, butter, and all the dairy products would be different because they had a fine milch cow – not a stinky goat.

At midday, Maggie folded her arms across her chest. “Today’s my turn to give my husband a love token, and I plan to surprise Todd with a special dessert.”

In the interest of getting along, Helga didn’t say the cookies they’d made were enough. That night Todd ate the kase knoephla with gusto, proving it had been a successful day. Then Maggie put aside the plates and produced a cake she’d carefully covered with a water bucket so it would be a surprise. “It’s my turn. I made you a love token.”

“After you do the dishes, we will eat the cake.” Todd pushed aside his coffee cup. His eyes twinkled. “Not often do I say this, but I am full!”

Smile fading, Maggie said, “Fine.”

While Maggie did the dishes, Todd read from the
Gazette.
The drought was expected to worsen, the railroad strike persisted, and the news from Chicago World’s Fair cited decadent waste of luxuries like California fruit while elsewhere people were struggling to make ends meet because of the stock market’s plunge. Eventually, he folded the paper and set it down.

Maggie picked up a knife and turned toward the table. Helga muttered, “After that grim news, I don’t want cake.”

“Me neither. I’m still stuffed.”

Maggie almost dropped the knife.

“I shocked my wife.” The boyish smile Helga thought Todd lost when his father died lit his face.

“Are you sure?” Maggie sounded incredulous. “Not even a little piece?”

“Nein. Tomorrow I will. But have some yourself.”

“No.”

Todd gave her an exasperated look. “You wanted some. Go ahead.”

“I wouldn’t touch that cake if it were the last scrap of food on earth.” She picked up the platter.

His voice tinted with laughter, Todd said, “You just said you wouldn’t touch it – ”

“You didn’t even look at it! It was your love token!” She wheeled around and opened the door.

“Margaret! What are you doing?” Todd shot to his feet.

“Slopping the hogs. They’ll appreciate getting a love token. You couldn’t care less.”