Debra Holland (18 page)

Harriet wouldn’t take the bet. She knew Elizabeth’s family owned a piano and had no doubt that crate held it. A frisson of envy shot through her. She’d always wanted a piano. The instrument had resided in her dream house. In her imaginings, she’d taught herself to play.

She watched Nick direct the men in what to do with the boxes. She’d never seen him in a leadership role before, and a part of her thrilled at the sight. Nor did Nick stint on doing the heavy work himself. He’d carted off so many boxes that he probably would be sore tomorrow. Elizabeth would be the lucky wife who’d rub liniment in his neck and shoulders.

Harriet’s throat tightened. She forced her thoughts away from Nick and Elizabeth.

Ant appeared in the door of the boxcar, his arms around a crate. He glanced at the ramp to make sure of his footing and strode down. Instead of stopping and setting the crate with the others, he kept on going until he reached the first wagon. Then he lifted it over the side and shoved it against the seat.

There were some feminine murmurs of appreciation for his strength, and the gossip started flying. Half the women seemed frightened by his great height and dark looks. The other half tittered about his rescue of David and the rumor of his potential newspaper business. It wasn’t lost on the young women and spinsters that an eligible bachelor was about to take up stakes in town. After a few remarks about Ant’s husband potential, Harriet wasn’t sure whether to cover her ears or David’s.

She solved the problem by taking her charge and walking him across and down the street to sit by themselves on the steps of the school. They were farther away from the activity, but at least they had some peace.

Maybe by concentrating on David, she’d be able to get through this day with a minimum of heartache.

* * *

Her first sight of Elizabeth’s new kitchen struck Harriet speechless. The spacious interior was so much grander than she’d ever imagined, big black stove, a sink with a pump, a long, high counter, a rectangular table running down the middle, and lots of cupboards. But it was the finishes—mahogany stain or clean white paint, shiny surfaces, gleaming metal as well as the sheer amount of space—that overwhelmed her.
I’d love to cook in this kitchen!

Harriet wasn’t allowed to remain awestruck for long. Pamela Carter and Samantha Rodriguez became twin whirlwinds of energy. Mrs. Carter tucked Harriet into a chair at the table to keep her off her feet, set another across from her to prop her foot on, and handed her dishes to wipe off with a dishtowel.

While the women worked, they chatted, sometimes stopping when men trudged in, laden with the remaining crates. Whoever had packed them had done a good job, painting in big black letters what kind of items were inside. Unless there was
kitchen
or
dining room
written on the outside, the men kept right on going.
 

Much of what they carried would be stored in the attic or basement until the rest of the house was finished. Except for the kitchen, parlor, dining room, and one bedroom, much of the carved paneling and other finishing details still weren’t installed. Apparently, much of the fine details such as mantelpieces and the stair rail were being made in Boston and would be shipped out and installed on site. Even the stair rail was just a crude length of wood. The focus had been to finish up the exterior before winter made working outside impossible.

Mrs. Carter unpacked the crates that the men had already pried open, and Samantha Thompson put the dishes that Harriet wiped clean into the glass-fronted cabinet in the pantry. Other women were scattered throughout the house, polishing the furniture the men unloaded, unpacking linens and making beds, cleaning the candlesticks, figurines, and other articles emerging from the boxes, and finding places to put them.

Elizabeth, who still managed to look elegant in an old blue dress, flitted back and forth throughout the house, scarcely able to take one thing out of a crate before someone called to her to come determine the placement of an article of furniture or the height she wanted a picture hung. Every time Nick entered the house, usually carrying something, he checked on his wife to make sure she wasn’t lifting anything because of her pregnancy.

At times, Harriet heard Mrs. Cobb’s raised voice sounding like a general, directing her troops. Elizabeth would probably have to rearrange things after everyone left, otherwise she might end up with rooms that looked like the Cobbs’ parlor.

Annie, Mrs. Carter’s capable Chinese cook, had overseen the food with the help of the Carter’s Indian maid, Dawn, and Millie, the wife of their foreman. Cloth-covered trestle tables creaked under the weight of platters and bowls. Between the lavish spread the Sanders had laid out and the food everyone else had brought, Harriet wondered if they shouldn’t have telegraphed Fort Ellis and invited the army.

As Harriet unloaded and wiped down a beautiful set of silver, including utensils she’d never seen before and wouldn’t have known how to use, serving pieces, and an elaborate tea and coffee set, she’d kept an eye on David sitting under a tree watching the other children play a game of tag. She could see his face, and he looked so lost. It hurt her heart that he wouldn’t join in.

Give him time
, she reminded herself.

Now that she had Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Rodriguez to herself, she decided it would be a good time to talk about the Swensen girls and make a request for donated clothing.
Please, God, may they be generous and not angry with me.

“Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Rodriguez, I’d like to talk to you about a family I met while Mr. Gordon and I were searching for his nephew.”

Mrs. Carter stopped her unpacking. “Certainly, my dear Miss Stanton. But first, remember, I requested you to call me Pamela.”

“I’m about to change from Rodriguez to Thompson anyway.” Samantha wiggled her nose. “After all we went through a few weeks ago to save the boys, I think first names are appropriate.”

A warm glow of friendship lit within Harriet. She smiled at the two women. “Pamela, Samantha, I met a family last week by the name of Swensen. They have a cabin on Watchtower Mountain. Do you know them, Pamela? He’s Swedish. She’s American. They have six daughters. The oldest, Inga is about Christine and Sara’s age, and they stair-step down to a toddler. They also have one Lizzy’s age.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Pamela said. “But how lovely that there’s a girl Lizzy’s age. Why don’t they go to church or school?”

“They’re very poor,” Harriet said. “Proud. The girls are barefoot, wearing dresses that are threadbare and too small. The father doesn’t want them to go to school looking like that. I assume the same is true for church.”

Pamela looked at Samantha, “Would they take hand-me-downs?”

Harriet gave them a triumphant smile. “I was able to convince Mrs. Swensen that she’d be doing me a favor if she would.”

Samantha laughed. “That must have taken some talking on your part, Harriet.”

“I convinced her that having more girls in the classroom would be a civilizing influence on the boys.”

Pamela pulled out a newspaper wrapped bundle, unrolled the paper, to expose a cut-glass crystal vase. “Good thinking.” She handed the vase to Harriet.

Harriet wiped the glass, careful not to cut herself on the sharp rim. “That’s not all. I told her that Lizzy was too frail to roughhouse with the boisterous boys her age and needed a girl to play quietly with.”

“That’s very clever.” Pamela pulled out a smaller bundle, this time wrapped in a towel. “Almost true, too. I’d
love
Lizzy to have a girlfriend her age. Even though the older children dote on her, and the boys her age are kind, it’s not the same as having an equal.” She unrolled the cloth, exclaimed, and held up a china shepherdess in a pink gown. “I remember this. Elizabeth’s mother used to keep it on the mantel in the parlor. I wonder why she ended up in this box?”

Harriet leaned forward to study the figurine. “She’s pretty.”

 
“There should be a matching shepherd in here somewhere. Elizabeth will be so pleased when she sees this. Genia, that sister-in-law of hers, certainly divested the house of everything that belonged to her husband’s parents, and everything Elizabeth had added to the decor. Except, Elizabeth tells me, the heirloom Hamilton silver.” She indicated the polished tea and coffee sets, sitting on the table. “These were the newer pieces. Well, Elizabeth and Nick benefit from Genia’s bad taste.”

Harriet set the cleaned vase on the table. “Would you ladies mind donating some clothes and shoes to the Swensens?”

“Sara has plenty of dresses packed away that are in good shape. She barely wore some of them. There’s already plenty for Lizzy as she grows. Then there are all the garments that Lizzy has outgrown.”

Samantha picked up the vase and placed it in the cupboard that already held several others. “Christine has plenty of outgrown clothes too.”

“We can’t overwhelm them,” Harriet warned. “A good dress and a work dress for each with some room to grow. One pair of shoes, with a second bigger pair for the oldest girl so when they’re too small, she can hand them down, but still have something to wear. Some stockings and undergarments.”

“How about we meet in town on Monday and ride there together,” Pamela suggested. “We can bring the girls. I think even Lizzy could manage her pony on the mountain trail. We can go through the clothes and choose what you think might fit each child.”

Samantha reached for the shepherdess. “We’d better bring some food. Otherwise we’ll probably overwhelm the poor woman. I’ll ask Mrs. Toffels to make some cookies.”

“Annie can make fried chicken and roasted potatoes. A jar of her pickles will be a nice addition, too.”

Harriet thought of the contents of the store. “I’ll bring a canister of tea, some loaves of bread, and a crock of butter.”

“Sounds like we’re all set.” Samantha wiped off the shepherdess before setting it down and taking a cut glass bowl that Pamela handed her.

“Thank you, ladies.” Harriet gave them a gleeful smile. “I desperately want these girls in my classroom, and I appreciate you both making it possible.”

Pamela tucked some escaping strands of hair behind her ear. “It will be an adventure.”

Harriet glanced out the window to check on David. He hadn’t moved from under the tree and still had a pensive look on his face. She sighed, wishing she could solve his problems as easily as those of the Swensen girls.

Samantha followed Harriet’s gaze. She set the bowl on the table, and wiped her hands on the apron covering her blue calico dress. “Come on,” she said to Harriet. “I know just the thing for David. Or, should I say, just the
boy
.”

Harriet couldn’t help but smile at the mischief in Samantha’s blue eyes. “Good idea. They’re about the same age.”

“They’ll be oil and water.”

“You’re right. Just what he needs.”

Outside, Samantha moved closer to the group of children. The sun glinted on her red hair. She shaded her eyes with her hand and called to her son. “Daniel!” It took a couple of tries before Daniel Rodriguez heard her and detached himself from the others. Samantha gripped his shoulder to focus his attention on her. In spite of the gentle restraint, Daniel rocked back and forth, obviously eager to return to the game.

Daniel didn’t look at all like his mother except for his blue eyes and the slight auburn tint to his brown hair. He took after his Argentine father, with golden skinned high cheekbones and a narrow nose. When he was distressed or excited his eyebrows tended to wing upward.

Harriet smiled at him. “Daniel, I want you to meet someone.” She indicated David. “David is about your age. But...” she hesitated, unsure what to say about her charge. “He’s had a hard life. Right now he’s not talking to anyone. But he could sure use a friend.”

Daniel’s eyes lit with glee, and his eyebrows winged up. “Like me, Mama. When we first moved here.” He bounced under her hand, about to take off and shoot over to David.
 

Samantha tightened her grip. “Yes, like you, son.”

Harriet knew that despite Daniel’s outgoing nature, he was easily hurt. “David might not seem friendly at first,” she warned him, ruffling his silky brown hair.
 

 
Samantha cupped his chin and raised his face so he’d look into her eyes. “You’ll need to be patient with David. Can you do that?”

“I can talk for both of us.”

“That you can.” Samantha gave Daniel a hug, which he wiggled out of. His mother released him, and he beelined for David.

The two women watched. Harriet held her breath.

Daniel bounced to a stop in front of David and immediately started talking.
 

David looked startled, and his eyes widened. But he didn’t appear scared, and the lost look had vanished.

Daniel plopped himself down next to David and started a one-sided conversation, seemingly unconcerned that his new companion remained uncommunicative.

Sudden tears glistened in Samantha’s eyes. “When we lived in Argentina on the
hacienda
, Daniel didn’t have friends. His cousins were unkind. When we moved to Montana, he took well to his adopted brothers, but they’re older, and it’s still an adjustment. Now...to see him go right up to David and pitch himself into a friendship... He’s grown a lot since we came here.”