The Wedding Dress (2 page)

“Matt, what were you doing on the docks today?” His mother's dark eyes pinned him while he squirmed. “You were sent to town for nails, no one told you—”

“Pa was waiting for those nails,” Prue's accusing glare wilted him.

“I ran the whole way,” he muttered around his spoon.

“Bluff Street is a long way from the docks,” his father commented.

“Where are you going tonight?” Cynthia Smyth asked. Matthew was relieved that the attention was no longer on him.

Tyler glanced up. “Me 'n Lank are going to mosey down Mulholland Street.”

“You can't get enough of each other? Before 'thirty-nine you stayed away from any neighbor.”

“We set a lot of store by our land, and they're about to overrun it.” They looked at Rebecca. Mr. Smyth reached into his pocket. “Here, birthday girl.”

She accepted the penny and tucked it into her pocket.

“Thank you, Mr. Smyth.”

“Going to spend it?” Matthew asked eagerly. She shook her head.

“At least someone's got a nest egg.” Tyler grinned and tugged at her braid.

“What's going on down Mulholland?” Joshua pushed aside his bowl.

“Holy Joe's fixing to be President of the United States,” Matthew said.

“Boy, are you all ears?” Cynthia asked. “Besides, you can't depend on gossip.”

“Holy Joe,” Prue snickered and glanced at Rebecca.

Rebecca dropped her spoon and straightened. Her voice was low. “Prue, it makes no difference to me what you call him. I'm not one of the Saints.”

Cynthia was shaking her head. “You young'uns know nothing about it.”

Four pairs of eyes turned to Mrs. Smyth, hanging on her words. Tyler cut in, “Now you've got them ticklin' with curiosity. Better tell the story.”

Mrs. Smyth waved the serving spoon toward Rebecca. “True, the Wolstones were fancied about Joe Smith and his book. But they never did become a part of it.”

“They came to Illinois when the rest did.” Joshua was watching Rebecca.

“The others came from Independence. After they wore out their welcome elsewhere and had to move, Commerce was their choice. I have no call to discriminate against 'em, but it makes me mad that they had to be so uppity to change the name to Nau—voo.”

“They made a pretty spot out of a bunch of old shacks,” Joshua said thoughtfully.

Mr. Smyth snorted, “Anybody could've done the same with that size crowd pullin' on their team.”

On the day Mrs. Smyth walked into the garden to dig tender dandelion shoots, she said, “Time to air bedding and wash hair.”

Rebecca sat on the chopping block under the apple tree and loosened her braids while she listened to Joshua. His voice was pleading as he tagged along after his mother, carrying the feather comforter and lifting her buckets of water. For the past two springs Joshua had tagged after his parents with the same arguments.

“Oregon—you want to go off to Oregon when your pa needs every bit of help he can get.” Cynthia put him off, “Wait until Matt's big enough for the plow.”

Joshua's pleading resumed. For a moment Rebecca's spirit forsook the familiar and reached restlessly beyond security. She closed her eyes and saw wagons with their billowing canvas and creaking wheels pulled by plodding oxen.

Cynthia's voice cut through the picture, and Rebecca opened her eyes. Mrs. Smyth was standing beside Joshua, but she was looking toward Nauvoo. Was she seeing the tide of houses moving up the hill toward their land? Rebecca followed her gaze. Beyond that shimmering line of river there was a dark spot. Another paddle-wheeler was puffing its way into dock. Cynthia was saying, “Maybe it won't hurt for you to talk to your pa. The way this place is growing, it'd be best for some one of us to be scouring the face of the earth for a bit of land.”

Rebecca saw the hope on Joshua's face. A light breeze touched the apple tree and ruffled Rebecca's hair. A lonesome chill touched her heart.

Matthew stood beside her. “You look like an angel with your hair floatin'.”

“You caught a fish!”

He lifted his prize. There were two large catfish. “Ah, no mush tonight.” His eyes were still on her hair, and she wondered at the thoughtful expression that suddenly gave way to a spark of amusement. She thought about it for a moment, but Matthew scampered off before she could question him.

Later Rebecca would rationalize that it wouldn't have happened if Joshua hadn't left for Oregon that next week.

But Joshua was leaving. All that last week Rebecca pretended life would be the same after he left. Surely Joshua's constant kindness and understanding wasn't as necessary as cool water.

With his father's approval, Joshua soon found a wagon train heading for Oregon. The spring plowing was finished within a week. Too soon the day arrived and there was Joshua mounted on the pale horse, wearing new buckskin breeches and a fringed leather shirt. The sun touched fire from the metal of his rifle while the mare pawed her impatience. Matthew's face was full of awe. “You look like a real scout.”

Joshua leaned down and tweaked Rebecca's braid. “Take care, you hear? You grow up, but only enough to fit that pretty wedding dress.”

Forgetting the tear that wet her cheek, Rebecca stared up at him. Under the brim of his new hat his eyes were serious. Behind her Mrs. Smyth chided, “Joshua, don't you go planting notions.”

When he was gone, Mrs. Smyth moved reluctantly. She touched the bowed shoulder of the graying man beside her. “You don't suppose you'll regret selling that parcel? Seems a high price for gear for a young man.”

“I guess I'm gettin' to be a gambler.” He was looking down the hill.

Rebecca hacked at the weeds. Perspiration ran down the sides of her face, plastering her hair to her head. The weeds, like the tender corn, were shooting up faster than she could walk the rows, at least it seemed that way.

“Psst!” She blinked perspiration out of her eyes. Matthew waited in the shade.

“Matt, how come you're resting so close to suppertime? You haven't finished that row, and you'll stand to get skinned for it.”

“Water,” he groaned. “Have some.” He was watching as she drank. “Ebner has a penny for you if you'll give us a hand after the corn's finished.”

She lowered the cup. “A penny? Where's Ebner getting money?” He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “I can't imagine what Ebner's cooked up now that's worth a penny.”

“He's just of a mind to play a little trick.”

“And who's going to get hurt?”

“Nobody.”

“That's hard to swallow. Seems like last time I was hauled in on your scheme, I ended up taking the blame for everything.”

“Who'd a-guessed Mrs. Burton wouldn't spook but her chickens would.”

Rebecca shook her head, “Uh-uh. You're thinking I'll play on your terms. I've learned my lesson. That last time I'd never have done it if I'd known it was to help you steal melons. And me pulling up the lid on a box 'cause you told me to. I thought that was a possum in there, not a skunk.”

“Ah, Becka, don't hold a grudge. It wasn't my fault. Besides, that old skunk was so feeble he couldn't run, and I don't think he could have heisted his tail if he'd met a bear.”

“Maybe so, but Mrs. Burton's chickens didn't know that.”

“I helped you look for them.”

There was a shout from the house. “That's Pa. Guess it's suppertime.” Matthew hung the cup on the tree. “I'll tell you about it later.”

During supper Matthew said, “How about me 'n Becka going fishing first thing in the morning? We could be back early enough to finish the weeding by noon.”

Mrs. Smyth wrinkled her forehead and looked from Rebecca to Matthew. Rebecca poked at her greens while Matthew said, “Well, with Joshua gone, someone needs to come with me. What if I drown?”

Prue snorted, “What about me or Jamie? Becky needs to hoe.”

Tyler frowned, “Young lady, maybe it's time you learned to swing a hoe.”

“I gotta do house chores,” she whined.

“Maybe Jamie,” Rebecca said. A toe caught her in the shin.

Cynthia nodded. “Mrs. Olson said they've gotten good bass from the springs.”

When the last of the dishes had been dried, Matthew stuck his head through the door. “Goin' ta finish that row?” Rebecca hastily followed him out the door.

Matthew's hoe dipped and cut with unusual vigor. Soon he drew even with Rebecca. “You know that old barn down on Hulfords' section?”

“Yes.” Remembering the tumbledown shack, she added, “Your ma said stay out of that place; it's dangerous.”

“Naw, she said that 'cause the Hulfords' kids were smoking corn silk in there. Ebner wants us to meet him there before sunup tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Bishop Ellis and some others go in there to pray. Ebner thought…” His voice trailed away as she vigorously shook her head. “I figured you wouldn't. Told Ebner you was too much Mormon yourself.”

“That's not so!” she exclaimed hotly. “I just don't trust his shenanigans.”

“Ah, you and your ma and pa lived too close to them down there in the gulch. It rubbed off.” She shook her head and he pressed, “Then prove it.”

“What else does he have in mind?” Her voice was cautious.

“Well, he says the bishop's been praying for a miracle or a visit from an angel like Joseph Smith had. Ebner figured you'd be just the one to give it to him.”

“What do you mean?” She stopped hoeing and turned.

“If you unwind your hair and wear something white, those old men won't be able to tell the difference between you and an angel.”

“That's terrible!” Rebecca exclaimed, suddenly remembering Matt's impish grin when he had seen her with her hair down the week before.

“You'd have to climb up on the rafters and stand there so's the sun would hit you just right. I told Ebner you's too chicken to stand that high.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Just say something pretty, so they'd think you're an angel.”

“It'll make them mad and besides, I don't have anything white.”

“Ebner says he'll take care of that.”

“A penny?” Rebecca was thinking of the meager store of coins she had.

“You'll have to decide now. Ebner's waiting in the willows.”

By the time they reached the end of the row, Rebecca was caught up in thinking of the men awed by the vision of her. “What'll I say?” she asked Ebner.

His brow puckered. “It's gotta be a revelation or it won't count…Pa's worried about their taking our land. Say something so's they'll go.”

Dawn was only a gray promise when Matthew touched her shoulder. While Rebecca pulled on her shoes, Prue groaned and rolled over. “I'd rather hoe all day than go fishing in the middle of the night.”

Matthew stashed the fishing poles at the stream. Quickly he and Rebecca cut across the plowed field toward the barn. Ebner was a dark shadow in the trees. When they reached him, he handed Rebecca a white cloth, muttering, “Hurry up, now.”