Melinda and the Wild West (15 page)

Gilbert watched Melinda’s eyes as she read
and he noticed what a pleasant voice she had. He had never seen her
in this setting before. For the first time, he saw the gentler side
of her and he enjoyed it very much.

Melinda continued reading, “‘Day by day,
hole by hole our bearing reins were shortened, and instead of
looking forward with pleasure to having my harness put on as I used
to do, I began to dread it.’”

As everyone listened, Melinda finished the
last few sentences and then put a marker in the book. When she
closed it, she looked at Jenny. “It’s time for bed. We’ll finish
tomorrow. What do you say?”

Jenny hopped up and gave Melinda a hug. Then
she went to her father, kissed him on the cheek, and hugged him.
“‘Night, Pa.” Looking over at Melinda, she said, “Now don’t forget.
After breakfast we read again.”

Gilbert cut in, “Whoa, girl. You two can’t
finish this book without me. I’m hooked. I have chores to do in the
morning. You have to wait for me. Promise to wait?”

Melinda smiled. Gilbert wanted to be
included in story-time! She was delighted. “I promise,” Melinda
said with laughter in her voice.

After the house had settled down and Melinda
lay in bed, she heard Gilbert’s soft deep voice through the walls,
“All right, young lady. Don’t forget your prayers. When you’re
done, I’ll tuck you in.”

“Hey, Pa. I’m too old to be tucked in. I’m
eight years old.”

“All right, if you say so. But you’re never
too old to be tickled by your father.”

Jenny giggled, “Stop, Pa, I
surrender
.” As her laughter died down, she
said, “
You can tuck me in after
all.”

Melinda smiled. She loved this playful side of
Gilbert. She remembered how uneasy she had felt when they had stood
together beneath the mistletoe at Christmastime, but now she did
not feel uneasy. She felt different around Gilbert now; quite the
opposite, in fact. It was a comfortable feeling, and she liked that
feeling very much. Then she realized something. This was the
longest time they had been in the same room without an
argument.

The following morning, Gilbert was up bright
and early, feeding and watering the cattle. After stomping his feet
on the porch, he came inside, took off his boots, and hung his coat
on the hook. Then he woke his daughter up to help him make
breakfast.

Melinda heard the rattling of pans and
quickly arose. She saw fresh water in the white china pitcher on
the washstand with a washrag and a towel next to it. Gilbert had
quietly walked in while she was asleep and put fresh water in the
pitcher for her so she could wash up. He had even placed a clean
hairbrush on the small table for her. After washing up, she felt
refreshed once again and it felt so good.

When Melinda looked at the brush beside the bowl,
she smiled at Gilbert’s efforts to make her comfortable. She
brushed her dark tresses and then placed her hair loosely upon her
head and secured it with her combs. As she fixed her hair, she
thought of yesterday and how she owed her life to Gilbert and
Jenny. In fact, she owed her life to Gilbert twice now. Melinda had
heard how dangerous hypothermia was. She could have been much worse
if Gilbert had not found her in time. She had heard of people who
had actually died from it.

After fixing her hair, Melinda slipped her
dress over her pantalets and camisole. Today, she would not wear
her cumbersome petticoats. As she buttoned her dress, she giggled
as she remembered what Jenny had said about all the buttons and
petticoats. She was such a darling child and was not afraid to
express her feelings.

When Melinda walked into the living room,
she felt the warmth of the fireplace and heard the fire crackling
gently. It felt so warm and cozy in this part of the house.

When she saw Gilbert cooking at the stove,
she asked, “May I help you?”

Gilbert turned from the sizzling bacon and
their eyes met. He smiled. “Sure. Set the table. The plates are to
the right of the sink. Thanks.” He watched her as she took the
plates from the cupboard and the attraction he felt toward her was
stronger than ever before. He cleared his throat and asked, “Did
you sleep well?”

Melinda glanced over at him. “Yes, I did. I
slept very well and very warm. Thank you. And I would like to thank
you for the brush and fresh water.”

“It was nothing. I tried not to wake you up, but
I knew you would need it this morning. After breakfast, Jenny and I
have to feed and water the horses. Then we can finish that
story.”

Melinda smiled. “It’s a deal. While you two
are out, I’ll wash the dishes and clean up. How’s the weather
outside? Is it better?”

“Yes, a little. It’s not coming down so hard
today, but the wind is a devil to be out in. I’m hoping it will die
down by tonight. I know you’re anxious to get home. But we’ll make
you comfortable until it’s safe to go home.”

After breakfast, Melinda started the dishes.
She enjoyed singing as she did her chores. As she sang, she looked
around the room and noticed there were no pictures on the walls.
This was a “man’s home” with no feminine frills whatsoever. There
was an oak gun cabinet, and mounted deer antlers hanging on the
wall as a decoration. Everything about it was masculine.

While Jenny was brushing her horse in the
comfort of the barn, she heard the wind howling. “Pa, I sure hate
the wind.”

“So do I, Jenny.”

“When do you suppose it will stop?”

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders as he brushed
his own horse. “Don’t know. Maybe tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Pa?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“In a way, I don’t want the wind to stop and
in another way, I wish it would.”

“Why is that, Jenny?”

“Well, Pa, if it stops, I won’t have to hear all
that howlin’. But then Miss Gamble will be leaving and I don’t want
her to go. I like her, Pa. I like her a lot. So, if it doesn’t
stop, she’ll have to stay.”

Gilbert chuckled. “It does feel good to have
her around, doesn’t it? We haven’t had a lady in the house before,
have we?”

“Nope. We haven’t.”

After they finished, Jenny stepped out of
the barn and looked at her father mischievously. “Run, Pa!”

And off she fled with Gilbert trailing after
her.

When Jenny hit the porch first, she laughed.
“Beat you this time.”

Gilbert laughed and said, “No fair. You gave
me no warning. I wasn’t ready.”

“Hey, Pa, haven’t you always taught me to be
ready at all times?”

“Oh. And that includes races?”

“Yup!”

Gilbert chuckled and patted her back. Her
sense of humor reminded him of his own. As they stomped the snow
off their feet, they walked into the house and stood in reverent
awe at what they heard and saw.

Melinda had her sleeves rolled up, an apron
tied around her waist, and she was cleaning the cabinets with a
dishcloth while singing. Melinda’s voice was rich, sultry, and
mellow. Her tone was pure and expressive. Gilbert stood quietly
with his hat in hand, watching Melinda with admiration. Neither he
nor Jenny moved a muscle as they listened.

Believe me if all those endearing young
charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly today,

Were to change by tomorrow and fleet in my
arms

Like fairy-gifts fading away.

The simple words were beautiful with a very
special message. When Melinda looked up and saw them watching her,
she smiled and continued singing.

Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment
thou art.

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

And around the dear ruin each wish of my
heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still.

Gilbert and Jenny hung up their hats and
coats and slipped their boots off in silence.

Melinda looked over at them and said,
“That’s one of my favorite songs. I’m part Irish. Thomas Moore was
a great Irish poet. He wrote the most romantic poetry I’ve ever
read.”

Gilbert washed up at the sink and then sat
in his overstuffed chair and watched her clean the table.

Melinda looked at Gilbert. “There’s a story told
about the song I just sang. It’s a very touching one.”

“What story is that, Melinda?”

She put the rag down and picked up a dishtowel and
began wiping the dishes that had been washed. “Thomas Moore was
away on business for quite some time. While he was gone, his wife
was struck with smallpox. The illness had disfigured her face and
she was so ashamed and embarrassed that she locked herself in her
bedroom. When he came home and found her locked in her room, he
asked her to let him in.”

Melinda stopped what she was doing and looked at
Gilbert. “But she would not unlock it. She was ashamed of what she
looked like. Moore told her that it didn’t matter to him, but it
did to her. She wanted to look pretty for the man she loved. When
Moore realized that she wouldn’t give in, he went to his desk and
wrote a poem for his wife. The poem he wrote was what I just sang.
When he slipped the poem under her door, she picked it up and read
it. After reading about his undying love, her heart softened and
she opened the door and let him in.”

Melinda continued drying the dishes and
putting them away. The room was silent and no one said a word.
Gilbert watched Melinda work and he noticed how graceful she moved
as she put each dish and plate in its place. The story had touched
him and so did Melinda’s presence.

Gilbert’s love grew for this woman as she
opened yet another mystery about herself. This woman had
tenderness, something he had not seen before. After all, almost
every encounter with her up to this point had been quite fiery. Yet
she was exciting during those times, too. What determination! When
she had an opinion, no one could thwart her. Yes, she was quite
self-willed but he would never tell her so again, because Gilbert
did not want to risk Melinda’s wrath. He quickly found out how she
hated that word, even if it were true. He smiled at the memory of
that day. Yes, she was a fiery individual.

Gilbert’s memory went back to two weeks ago when he
had picked her up at the terminal. That was the first time he had
held her in his arms. It had felt so good to hold her. That
encounter had stirred feelings within himself that he thought were
dormant. She had responded to his touch and seemed to melt into his
arms like a mold.

“That was it, a mold,” he thought to
himself. It was as if she fit there perfectly and was meant to be
in his arms. As he thought of that day, his heart fluttered and he
knew that he had fallen deeply in love with her.

Suddenly he awoke from his
daydream as Melinda asked, “Are you ready to finish
Black Beauty
?”

She hung the wet dishtowel up to dry and
then put the apron on a hook where she had found it. Melinda walked
over to the sofa, picked up the book, and turned to the spot she
had marked.

Jenny cuddled up to Melinda on the sofa and
rested her head against her teacher’s shoulder. After a while,
Melinda heard a few sniffles from Jenny as she read a sad part of
Black Beauty’s life. “‘My life was now so utterly wretched that I
wished I might, like Ginger, drop down dead at my work and be out
of my misery.’”

Melinda took the edge of her skirt and wiped
Jenny’s tears away and then hugged her. “Shall we stop and have
lunch?”

Jenny shook her head. “I’ve just got to see
how this turns out, Miss Gamble.”

“But, Jenny, my voice is tired. I must rest.
Aren’t you hungry?”

At this announcement, Gilbert hopped up and
began fixing something for lunch. When Melinda saw what he was
doing, she walked toward him, “May I help?”

“Sure. You can cut the bread while I cut the
roast beef from yesterday. We can have roast beef sandwiches.”

“Sounds good to me.” Melinda smiled and
began cutting the bread. “Did you make this bread?”

“Sure did.” He turned to face her and said
softly, “Melinda, I just want you to know that it sure has been
good to have you around.”

“It has?”

“Yes, it has.” Then he turned to her and
grinned. “And don’t ask me why. I’m not going through that
again.”

Melinda laughed, remembering what had
happened at the train station.

“You know, Melinda, we have broken a
record.”

“What record is that?”

“We have been together now for two days
without one argument.”

Melinda burst into laughter. “Now that’s a
miracle, isn’t it?”

She buttered the bread and added relish.
Then Gilbert placed several thin slices of beef on it.

After Gilbert wiped his hands clean, he
looked into her eyes. “It’s nice to work as a team rather than
against one another, don’t you think?”

Melinda smiled and nodded.

“So, you’re Irish, eh?”

“Yes. My grandfather came over from Cork
County, Ireland.”

Gilbert grinned. “I’ve heard about the Irish
tempers. I used to think it was a fable.”

Melinda looked at him curiously and wondered if he
was serious or teasing her. When she could not quite tell, she put
her hands on her hips in a stubborn stance and stared into his
eyes, saying in mock exasperation, “It
is
a fable. And
you’re not so innocent yourself, Mr. Roberts. I remember a time
when you were quite upset at me and it had something to do with
your cows getting loose.”

She was teasing him and he knew it. This was
the first time she had ever teased him and he liked her spirit.

Gilbert grinned and put both hands up in the
air in surrender. “You’re right and I shouldn’t have said that. I
remember I bit your head off that day. I’m sorry.” Looking at his
daughter, he said, “Jenny, get washed up. Lunch is ready.”