The Brides of Chance Collection (87 page)

Hattie picked up the flour, salt, and water that served to make paste for the medicine labels. She combined the flour and salt but hesitated to add the water. She’d done this three times already today, and three times the paste had dried before she could put it to use. It wasn’t because folks needed help. No, ’twas that they were curious and hoped to be the first to meet the men from California.

Sure enough, a knock sounded on the door. Miz Willow was off at the Peasley place helping clear up a case of poison oak. Usually that would leave Hattie alone with her thoughts and the sound of the rain. But not today. She bit back a sigh as she swung the door open.

Bethilda Cleary sailed out of the rain and into the cabin with her daughters, Lily and Lark. All three were cleaner than Hattie had ever seen them, and the girls were wearing shoes. From the looks of their tiny steps and periodic winces, the shoes were far too small.

“Good day, Mrs. Cleary.” Hattie gestured for them to sit down. She’d prefer they stated their business and went along, but she couldn’t let those poor girls stand in their pinched shoes for even a second. Besides, no potion Hattie could concoct would soothe the afflictions of Bethilda Cleary—two unwed daughters.

“Thankee kindly, Hattie.” The woman peered into the corners of the room as though what she sought would magically appear.

“What cain I do for you and yourn?”

“Well, on account of our fine health,” Bethilda’s voice rose on the last two words before continuing, “we ain’t had cause to visit you. So’s we reckoned we should come an’ see you on this…glorious spring day.” She faltered at the end as Lark squeezed a handful of water from the sodden hood of her cloak onto Hattie’s clean floor.

“I see.” She didn’t hide her smile. She might as well appreciate the humor in this visit, after all. “Pity yore visit hadn’t waited a couple days. By then you coulda been introduced to our visitors.” Hattie saw Bethilda’s shoulders slump and blithely added, “We’re expectin’ their arrival any day now, ye ken.”

“Yep. Mawma sayed as how those two rich city bachelors would be here, we’d git first dibs on account of the rain iff ’n we—ow!” Lily broke off as Mama Cleary kicked her under the table.

“Well, that shore is a shame.” Bethilda smiled wanly and stood up. “It’d be nice to have some new blood in these hills.”

Hattie pushed back the thought of a mother mountain lion hunting for her cubs. The poor Chance brothers probably had no idea that every family with so much as one single daughter viewed them as fresh meat for the pouncing.

“You’ll be shore to come on by once they get here.” Hattie wasn’t extending an invitation, just stating a fact.

“That’s right neighborly of you. It’s good to hear you won’t be keeping the gentlemen all to yorself, Hattie Thales.” Bethilda looked at her daughters. “Gotta give the young girls as could make ’em good wives the opportunity to meet them boys.”

Hattie excused herself to the storeroom for a moment. The woman had all but accused her of having designs on the visitors and having no right to do so since she couldn’t be a proper wife. As if Hattie didn’t know that though she was a good woman, she wasn’t a whole one. When a man took a wife, he wanted sons. Her hands fisted for a moment as she prayed for forbearance.

Good Lord up above, You know I’ve made my peace with the life You’ve seen fit to give me. I don’t angle for another husband, Jesus. I’ll never bear a child, but I protect the lives of all who’re born into this holler. That and Yore love are more’n enough to fill my heart
.
Holp me to remember all the blessings You’ve bestowed upon me rather than my failures. The
Chance brothers bring with them excitement and possibility. Please don’t let me begrudge my neighbors those things. Holp me to forgive Bethilda her hurtful words and not let old sorrows taint the present. Thank You for Yore constant goodness. Amen
.

At peace once again, she took a deep breath and reached for the medicine she’d come for. She took out the large jar of salve and scooped some into a smaller tin. Made with ground ivy and marshmallow root, the cream would help soothe the blisters Hattie was certain the Cleary sisters would soon be nursing. She took a deep breath, pasted a smile on her face, and went back to the table.

“It shore was nice of y’all to come and visit me. I cain’t holp but notice those fine shoes yore gals is wearin’, Mrs. Cleary.” Hattie waited for the older woman to nod. “But when it’s wet, sometimes the leather cain rub somethin’ awful. Here’s a salve just in case yore gals need it.”

Mrs. Cleary spoke through tight lips and gritted teeth. “That’s right kind of you, but my gals are used to such things. I don’t think—”

“Thankee, Miss Hattie!” Lily snagged the tin and put it in her pocket before her mother could refuse.

The glower in Bethilda’s eyes warned Hattie that the woman would make her daughter sorry she’d spoken up. She thought hard for a moment before consoling her. “Well now, I ken yore right, Mrs. Cleary, but I’d shore hate to see Lily and Lark miss out on meetin’ the fellas at the doin’s iff ’n their delicate skin should take an exception to the weather.”

“Good thinkin’, Hattie.” Bethilda’s brow unfurrowed, and she nodded sagely. “Shore am glad to have such a long-sighted healer. Sounds like the rain’s lettin’ up a mite, so we’ll be takin’ our leave.”

After a flurry of good-byes and a hug from Lark, who whispered her thanks for the salve, the Cleary women set out. Hattie sank down in Miz Willow’s rocking chair and buried her face in her hands. The Clearys had been her fourth visitors that day alone. What would happen once the Chance brothers actually arrived?

“We’ll be pullin’ in soon.” Bryce, who’d somehow managed to sleep through most of the five-day trip in his thinly padded seat, tipped up his hat brim.

“Praise the Lord,” Logan said fervently.

“Goin’ a bit stir-crazy, are you?” Bryce grinned.

“Maybe a little,” Logan admitted, “but today we saddle up and ride on to Salt Lick. I can hardly wait to get there.”

“Me, too. It’ll be nice to sleep lyin’ down again.”

“What?” Logan stared at his brother in disbelief. “You slept through the whole trip!”

“Not lyin’ down.” Bryce shrugged. “Besides, I think you did more dreaming than I could lay claim to.”

The whistle cut off Logan’s response as the train slowed on the tracks. The better part of the next hour was spent unloading everything from the train. Then came the onerous task of fitting everything onto the backs of the two pack animals. Finally, they were ready to set off.

Logan left Bryce with the horses and sauntered up to the only other fellow around.

“Excuse me, could you point us to the road to Salt Lick Holler?”

The old-timer chewed steadily on his straw before nodding and pointing. “Over yonder’s the path. Ain’t no road, but it’ll git you and yore animules thar. ’Bout half a day’s ride. We don’t git many foreigners up these parts.” He stared at Logan, obviously waiting for an explanation.

“Visiting some kinfolk.” Logan smiled as he remembered Lovejoy’s word for extended family. The man just shrugged and walked off, but it was clear the answer had been understood. Logan rejoined Bryce, and they swung up into their saddles.

Over to the west of the train tracks lay a dirt path, now overgrown from a long winter and wet spring. They set out more slowly than Logan would’ve liked, avoiding ruts and puddles as they followed the winding way through the mountains. Evergreens of all shapes and sizes spread thickly across the ground, punctuated by wild grass and blossoming shrubs. Squirrels and rabbits darted to safety as they rode by, chipmunks chattering at them all the while.

Occasionally they’d have to stop to clear deadwood out of the path, fallen branches Logan remembered Lovejoy warning them about. She’d said they were called “widow makers,” and one of them had caused the death of Hattie Thales’s husband. With that in mind, Logan kept an eye out for dried-out trees. He didn’t see many, but he did see birds flying, singing, courting, and building among the needles of practically every bough.

Overall, Logan and Bryce passed the pleasant ride in silence. It was best to take in their surroundings and enjoy the crisp fresh air for now. Besides, after five days on the train, they didn’t have anything new to say to each other. That was fine. There’d be plenty to keep them busy in Salt Lick Holler.

Be polite and considerate
, Logan dutifully reminded himself.
Remember that your actions reflect on Lovejoy and the Chances in general. You aren’t here solely to have a good time roaming around the hills. It’s not like recess at school—you’re going on this trip to find what God has in store for your life. You’d better be certain you’re not too busy having fun that you miss the message
.

All the same, Logan couldn’t help but smile. It was going to be an eventful trip.

The sun had long since set by the time they reached the valley. They squinted to find the fork in the road Lovejoy had told them would lead to the healers’ place. They inched along in deepening darkness, the only light coming from the waxing moon and more stars than Logan had ever seen before. The soft hoots of owls underscored the chirps of lovelorn crickets.

They guided their horses to the right and went a few hundred yards before spying a comparatively large structure to their left, exactly as it had been described. There. The cabin. Regardless of the weariness of cross-country travel, Logan felt a surge of excitement.

Chapter 6

H
attie rolled out of bed and slipped on her overdress almost before she was awake. She grabbed her satchel and padded across the floor in her bare feet to answer the door. If someone was calling in the dark of night, it must be urgent. She opened the door to a blast of frigid night air and a man on her doorstep.

“What can I do for you?” Hattie placed her satchel between them and tried to make out who it was in the dim flicker reaching from the fireplace.

“I’m looking for the healer’s home.” The stranger took off his hat. “By that satchel you’re holding, I’d guess I found it. You must be Miss Thales. I’m Logan Chance. I believe you’re expecting me and my brother?”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Chance.” She dipped her head.

“So you two young bucks made it all right.” Miz Willow hobbled up next to Hattie and squinted through the door. “Where’s yore brother?”

“You must be Widow Hendrick.” Logan smiled and gave a little bow. “Bryce is watching the horses. We weren’t positive we were at the right place.”

“You shore are. We’ll have you come in and warm up after we see to yore animals. Hattie, why don’t you show ’em to the barn while I brew some tea?”

Hattie fetched two lanterns and stepped outside as the first brother motioned for the second to follow. She could scarcely believe her eyes when she saw not two but four horses. Two of them were loaded down with more than she’d ever owned in her whole life. They had just enough room in the barn for the animals. Good thing she’d put fresh hay in all the stalls.

She opened the barn door and went ahead to light a few hanging lanterns so they could get the horses situated. She gestured to the wall of empty stalls.

“They can stay here. While you unload ’em, I’ll fetch some water.” She grabbed a bucket and went out to the well, making four trips to see to every horse’s thirst.

She’d never seen the barn so full. Their mule and milk cow looked at the newcomers curiously. The chickens ignored the entire proceedings as the opposite half of the barn suddenly became occupied, and the final empty stall filled with all the gear the Chance brothers had hauled up the mountains.

“This here’s the ladder to yore loft, where I’ve made up some pallets for you. You should be plenty warm, but if yore needin’ more blankets, jist let me know straightaway.” She put her hand on the ladder but didn’t climb up it to show them their beds. She figured they could manage fine on their own. “Miz Willow’s made you some tea inside to warm you up, iff ’n you’ll follow me.” She blew out the hanging lanterns and left the barn.

When they reached the cabin, one of the men hurried to open the door for her. It was the first one, Logan. She’d studied their faces in the lantern light as they took care of their horses. Both had dark hair and comely features, but Logan boasted a stronger jaw and wasn’t quite as tall as Bryce.

“Thankee.” She acknowledged the gentlemanly gesture and walked over to where Miz Willow was rocking in her chair. The kettle steamed over the fire, while a loaf of bread warmed in the niche.

“You’ve both met Hattie by now, and I’m Willomena Hendrick. Most folks in these parts call me Widow Hendrick, but when folks lodge with me I prefer Miz Willow. Hattie started callin’ me that, and I like it right fine. Ain’t that right, Hattie?”

“True ’nough.” Hattie placed a jar of blackberry preserves on the table and nodded. “I don’t like bein’ called Widow Thales, so I reckoned Miz Willomena probably didn’t shine to it after all these years, either.”

“And Willomena’s a mouthful and a half, so’s she shortened it to Willow.” The old lady rocked contentedly.

“Because it’s fittin’ for a healer to be named after a soothin’ yarb.” Hattie finished telling the story and placed the warm sliced bread on the table along with freshly brewed tea. Then she motioned for the men to sit at the table.