The Road to Love (8 page)

She hurried to the stove, pushed the pots to the back, and grabbed the bucket of peelings.

Mary, wailing like the killing winds of summer, stood in the doorway.

“Help me get the chickens in,” Kate said, heading outside.

Mary shrank against the wall, her eyes consuming her face.

Kate captured her hand and dragged her after her, ignoring the gulping sobs. “Mary, stop crying. I need your help.” She struggled against Mary's resistance all the way to the pen before she released the child. “I'll go inside and toss out the peelings. Maybe they'll come on their own. If they don't you'll have to chase them this direction.” She tossed out a few scraps as she called, “Here chick, chick, chick.”

Mary hadn't moved. “Mary, do as I ask.”

“Momma,” Mary wailed. “What if they chase me?”

Kate sighed. “Chickens don't chase you. They run from you. You know that. Now go.”

Mary stared at her, her mouth tight, her eyes so wide Kate feared they might explode from their sockets. She snorted. Now she was getting as fanciful as her daughter. “Mary, go.”

Sobbing so hard her whole body quacked, Mary ran toward the cottonwood where most of the chickens clustered.

“And stop crying,” Kate called after her. She had no time and little sympathy to spare over such silliness.

In the end, all Mary had to do was walk around the birds while Kate tossed out scraps. The chickens dashed for the food. Some, intelligent creatures that they were, ran full bore into the fence, squawking and shedding a flurry of feathers. “Mary, chase them around to the gate.”

The child hesitated, gave Kate a look fit to boil turpentine then obeyed.

A few minutes later, the chickens all safely inside, Kate latched the gate securely. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

“I hate chickens,” Mary muttered, and stomped off.

Dougie sauntered out of the barn. He would have enjoyed chasing the chickens in, although he tended to overdo it and have them running in frantic circles. “Where have you been, young man?” For some reason she couldn't keep the sharpness from her voice. It seemed she always had too many things to do, too little time for it, and a mountain of needs. And now she had a man to feed. She took a deep breath. Now she didn't have to try and do it all, at least for a few days. Hatcher would put the seed in. She could relax and think about other things. Like supper, which was probably burning.

Half listening to Dougie describe the little farm he and Tommy had constructed in the back of the barn, she dashed for the house to rescue the meal.

As she and Dougie hurried into the house together, she saw the huge tear in his overalls and skidded to a stop. “Douglas Bradshaw, what have you done to your overalls?”

He sidled away, trying to cover the hole with his hand.

“Now I have to mend them. I repeat, what were you doing?”

“Nothin', Momma.”

“Nothin' doesn't tear your clothes.”

“Me and Tommy were playing. That's all.” He continued to back away.

Kate felt anger boiling inside her, felt it flush her cheeks, saw wariness in Dougie's face, knew he heard it, sensed it and feared it. She took a deep breath. She would not explode. She fled to the kitchen. Her hand shaking, she grabbed a pot holder and lifted the pot lids without noting if the contents boiled or not. She turned away from the stove. Shaken, she leaned on the table. For weeks she'd felt ready to explode. Too much to do. A sense of the world caving in on her. But not until now had she lost control. She hated that her child had been on the receiving end.
Oh God
, she cried silently.
Help me. I do not want to feel this burning frustration. I do not want to punish my children for it. They don't deserve it.

A verse came to mind.
Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee
.

She sucked in air and the power of God's promise.
I trust You, God. You sent me a man to put in the crop. I know You will meet my other needs, too.

The panic subsided. She would manage with God's help and Hatcher to put in the crop. She would hold on to her farm and home.

She returned to the stove. A few minutes later she called the children and waved at Hatcher to come in for supper. Thanks to Sally, she wondered about him. She'd already asked questions he'd left unanswered, but whoever he was, wherever he was from, he'd promised to put the crop in. What did anything else matter?

She put out hot water for him to wash in and handed him a plate of food. She ate with the children then carried a cup of tea and a handful of cookies out to him.

He drained his tea and set the cup on the step beside him. “A couple hours yet until dark. I'll get back to work.” He got to his feet and plunked his dirty hat on his head. He touched the brim and nodded. “Ma'am.”

While she did the chores she listened to the rumble of the tractor and counted her blessings.

He worked until the light was gone then filled a pail from the well and strode off into the dark toward the shanty.

Kate relaxed when she could no longer hear his footsteps. The children were already asleep, bathed and ready for church the next day. She bowed her head to pray for safety for them all.
Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee; because he trusteth in thee
.

She trusted God. She had nothing to fear. Besides, Sally promised to pray for their safety. Kate would turn her energy to a different matter.
Lord, God, You have promised to meet all my needs. I needed someone to help with the farmwork. Thank You for sending someone to put in the crop. Please bless the land with rain this year.

 

Preparing to head for the barn, Kate glanced up at the sound of boots on the step and saw Hatcher. She'd invited him to join them for breakfast but he'd refused, saying he had biscuits. Yet there he stood waiting.

Supposing he must have changed his mind, she opened the door. “Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

“Didn't come for breakfast, ma'am. Came to milk the cows.”

“I'm just on my way.”

He reached for the buckets. “You have the children to care for. And you need extra time to prepare for church.”

She chuckled. “Time is not something I'm used to having much of.” Usually she rushed to pull off her cotton housedress or the old coveralls she often wore and hurried into her Sunday dress with minutes to spare. Not enough time to do anything more with her hair than slip in a couple of nice combs.

“Than maybe you'll let yourself enjoy it.”

His choice of words startled her and he took the buckets from her as she stared after him. Let yourself enjoy it. Did she even know how anymore? Work seemed to be the shape of her life. What would she do with spare time? She thought of the neglected mending, the unwritten letters, the unpolished stove and laughed.

“Will you come to church with us?” she asked when he returned with the buckets full of milk and a pocket full of eggs.

He shook his head.

Disappointment like a sharp pin pricked her thoughts. For some reason she'd imagined him accompanying them, proving to Sally she could trust Kate's judgment. “But surely you want to worship with God's people.”

“It's not a place for hobos.”

She wanted to argue but after Sally's comments…“I could let you have some of Jeremiah's clothes.”

“It's not just the clothes.”

“I'm sure you'd be welcome.”

“It's not the place for me. I'll worship God in His outdoor cathedral.” He nodded and strode away.

Kate stared after him. Poor man, used to being an outsider. Perhaps she could help him realize he fit in so next Sunday he'd feel he could show his face inside a church building.

She had extra time to prepare for church and took pains with her hair, pinning it into a soft roll around her face. She wished, momentarily, her hair could be a rich brown instead of being streaked with a rust color. She dismissed the useless thought and pulled on white gloves.

She put Mary's blond curls into dangling ringlets and smoothed Dougie's brown thatch. She'd have to cut it soon.

The three of them climbed into the truck and headed for town and church. Doyle met them at the church steps.

“You look very nice this morning.” He smiled his approval and Kate was glad she'd been able to spruce up more than usual.

Doyle pulled her hand through his arm and led her inside, the children following them.

She sighed. The familiar routine filled her with contentment.

He led her to the front pew, his customary place, and waited for the children to go in first so he could sit beside her. As always, attentive but circumspect, he limited his touches to a brushing of their fingers under the hymnal and a quick squeeze of her hand when the preacher announced Doyle had donated money for a bell in the belfry.

After the service, grateful parishioners surrounded Doyle thanking him for his generosity.

Kate stood proudly at his side, watching the way he accepted their praise—a kind man and handsome with his neatly groomed blond hair, his blue eyes and decked out in his dark, spotless suit. He noticed her studying him and reached out to pull her to his side. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

She nodded. Dougie had raced away to play with Tommy and a couple other boys. Mary waited in one of the pews humming and swinging her feet. They collected the children and headed for the restaurant where they were given the best table, next to the wide windows looking out on Main Street. Mary sat beside Kate, as quiet as a mouse. Dougie fidgeted beside Doyle.

“Sit still, child,” Doyle said and Dougie did his best to settle down.

Doyle ordered for them all—roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, mashed potatoes and gravy, carrots and turnips. It always seemed a bit extravagant to Kate to spend as much money on one meal as she spent on groceries in several weeks but she knew if she mentioned it, Doyle would say the same thing he said every time they were together—he could afford it and she deserved it. Besides the beef was excellent.

After ice cream they headed outside. Dougie raced ahead, loving the thunder of his boots on the wooden sidewalks, Mary skipped along in his wake. Doyle waited until they were out of earshot before he asked the inevitable question.

“When are you going to sell the farm and marry me?”

She laughed. “You know the answer.”

“Be practical, Kate. You can't stay out there by yourself.”

“I'm not by myself. I have the children.”

“And too much work. Jeremiah had help when he was alive and here you are trying to do it all yourself. You deserve better. Let me give it to you.”

“Doyle, you're sweet. And I appreciate it. I do.” His attention made her feel like a woman. Made her feel cherished. “But I have help.”

He slowed his pace and looked down at her. “Help? What do you mean?”

“I have someone to put in the crop for me.” She hoped he wouldn't ask about the rest of the work and how she planned to get the crop off in the fall. One day at a time. That's all she needed.

“You hired someone?”

“Doyle, don't sound so surprised. It's what I've done the last three years.”

“You hired the Oliver lad, but he's gone.”

She smiled up at him. “He's not the only man in the country.”

He didn't return her smile. “So who did you hire?”

She hesitated, sensing his disapproval. If she said a hobo, she knew he'd react even more strong than Sally. “What's the matter? You should be glad I have help. You just finished saying it was too much for me.”

“When are you going to give up and marry me?”

He annoyed her, insinuating she would eagerly accept his will for her. “I've never said I was.”

“You're just being stubborn. You're a fine woman except for that.”

She jerked her hand away from where it rested in his arm. “I am not stubborn. I am determined. And marrying you will not change that.” She took two steps away. “Children, it's time to go home.”

Doyle reached for her but she moved farther away. “Kate, be reasonable.”

“How can I be? I'm stubborn, remember?”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Forgive me.”

He had the sweetest smile but this time she wouldn't be affected by it. However, she couldn't refuse to grant him forgiveness. “Very well.”

“Someday,” he murmured. “You'll admit I'm right. You don't belong on the farm, struggling to survive. You and the children deserve better.”

Consideration for the children always caused her hesitation. Maybe they would be better in town where they didn't have so much work helping her keep the farm going, where they'd surely get more of her time and attention. It bothered her how often they had to manage on their own while she did chores, or chased cows or tried to get the tractor to run, though with Hatcher's help the past few days, she'd been less rushed, less demanding of the children.