Beyond All Measure (8 page)

“Father says I’m too stubborn and too outspoken. So does Aunt Kate.”

“You’re strong and smart and opinionated. Those aren’t bad traits to own in a world run by men.” Elizabeth’s voice caught.

“What is it, Mama? Did something happen?”

“Your father—” She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m very tired now. I want to rest.”

It wasn’t until many years later that Ada learned just how angry Cornelius had been that day, his pride wounded at the discovery that his wife was earning her own money. Ada was stunned. Somebody had to! The stack of bills on his desk grew higher and higher, and he grew angrier and more withdrawn.

That had been the beginning of her alienation from her father.

The parlor door slammed, and Ada heard the rhythmic sound of Lillian’s wheelchair rolling across the wood floor. She went downstairs to find Lillian sitting by the open window, watching a wren build a nest in the eaves of the porch. The sweet scents of early summer drifted on the breeze.

“There you are, Ada,” she said without turning her head. “I don’t have much of an appetite. Get yourself something to eat and then fetch my needlework bag. Wyatt will be here soon to take us down to the church for quilting circle.”

“You should eat something. How about a biscuit and some jam? Or a poached egg?”

Lillian turned from the window. “Don’t boss me, girl. I reckon I know when I need to eat, and right now I am stuffed to the gills from that farmer’s breakfast you laid on.”

“I made what you requested.”

“My eyes are bigger than my stomach. And never mind your own lunch. Here comes Wyatt.”

Remembering the few minutes they’d spent together on the river, Ada felt her pulse jump. Her face warmed at the memory of his direct gaze holding hers, the brush of his fingers against her hand. The way her heart had lifted when he defended her against Bea Goldston’s insinuating words.

Wyatt rode into the yard and slid from the saddle. He took off his Stetson and wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. Even the stains on his hat and his dusty work jeans couldn’t detract from his lean good looks. Ada sighed. Surely God had made Wyatt Caldwell to prove just what he was capable of. But it didn’t really matter. Sooner or later, he’d be off to Texas and she would be . . . where? All her worries crowded in.

“Ada?” Lillian rose unsteadily to her feet. “Where’s my hat . . . and my quilting bag?”

Ada retrieved Lillian’s things and climbed the stairs to get her own hat and her sketchbook. Despite Lillian’s certain opposition to her future plans, Ada was eager to share her hat sketches with the mill foreman’s wife. The sooner she could earn some money with her hatmaking, the better.

Downstairs, the door opened, and Wyatt’s voice filled the entry hall. “Aunt Lil? Ada? Are you ladies about ready?”

“Coming!” Ada hurried down the staircase.

Wyatt flashed a smile that stole her breath. “There you are.”

She smiled back. “We’re ready to go.”

They helped Lillian down the porch steps and into the yard. Wyatt had harnessed Lillian’s mottled gray horse to the rig that waited under the trees. He helped Ada and Lillian into it and handed Ada the reins. “Have you ever driven one of these before?”

She shook her head. “Never. I don’t know the first thing about it.”

“Well, lucky for you, old Smoky here knows everything. Just flick the reins when you want him to go, and pull back a little and say ‘whoa’ when you want him to stop.”

She gaped at him. For the love of Pete! She couldn’t even make soup or dust the parlor to Lil’s liking. She’d barely mastered the kitchen water pump and the cookstove. What if she wrecked this contraption and killed them both?

Wyatt’s grin only made her angrier. “Surely you don’t expect me to—”

“I’m sorry, but I have to get back to the mill. Two of our sawyers failed to show up this morning. We’re racing to get the rest of the lumber ready for shipping on Friday’s train.”

Lillian glared at her nephew. “Wyatt Caldwell, for once I agree with Ada. Have you lost your mind, turning this girl loose with a horse and buggy? Have you no concern for my safety? I might as well try to drive myself, even if I can’t see where I’m going.”

“You’ll be fine, Aunt Lil. Smoky knows the way to the church. Besides, you can coach Ada if need be.” He patted the horse’s sleek flank. “I’ll be back around six to unhitch him and give him his feed.”

“Mr. Caldwell.” Ada folded her arms across her chest and swallowed her disappointment. She’d begun to think Wyatt Caldwell was different from other men, more in tune with her sensibilities. But apparently she’d misjudged him. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been wrong about someone. “I understood that my duties were to serve as companion to your aunt. There is nothing in my list of duties about driving this thing.”

“I’m adding it to the list.”

“What if I refuse?” She stared at him, her insides churning. Wasn’t this just like a man? The minute you thought you understood the rules, they up and changed them.

He regarded her solemnly. “You won’t refuse, Ada.”

“And how are you so certain of this?”

“Because you care for Lillian, and you wouldn’t allow her to drive alone.”

He was right. Already, she had developed a grudging concern for the older woman. What made her so angry was that Wyatt saw it and was using it to his advantage. She huffed out an exasperated breath.

“I am sorry for surprising you this way, but something tells me you’ll do just fine.” He tipped his Stetson. “I’ll see you ladies after work.”

Lillian sighed and pulled on her lace gloves. “Might as well plan on staying for supper then.”

“Yep,” he drawled, a gleam of mischief lighting his eyes, “might as well.”

He swung effortlessly into the saddle, then cantered his horse across the yard and onto the road, churning up a cloud of dust behind him.

“Well?” Lillian tucked her skirts beneath her. “Are we going, or are you planning to sit here all day mooning over my nephew?”

“Mooning? Over him? Absolutely not.” Ada picked up the reins and yelled, “Get up!”

Smoky snorted and shook his head. The buggy jostled across the yard and rolled down the lane. Soon the horse settled into a comfortable trot. Far ahead of them, Wyatt’s horse moved smartly down the road. As the buggy neared a sharp bend, horse and rider disappeared into the trees. Ada released a pent-up sigh.

Lillian dabbed her forehead with a lace handkerchief. “I can’t imagine what I was thinking, agreeing to the hiring of yet another young woman after what happened with Hannah Fields.”

“You needn’t worry.” Ada glanced at the older woman. “I promise not to abscond with a traveling salesman.”

“People in love do strange things, especially when the love they feel is not reciprocated.”

“Surely Miss Fields wouldn’t have gone away with someone for whom she had no tender feelings.”

The rig rolled past wide, green fields and thick sedges bending in the breeze. Far above, a hawk turned in slow circles, casting a shadow onto the grass.

“It wasn’t the drummer that she loved.”

Understanding dawned. Ada’s stomach dropped. “Mr. Caldwell?”

“It isn’t as if he tries to attract attention. People are just naturally drawn to him.”

Ada recalled Wyatt’s easy conversation with his mill foreman, his gentle ways with Lillian, his quiet confidence. There
was
something about him that made people want to be near him.

“He’s always been that way,” Lillian said, “from the time he was a boy. My house was the most popular place in town whenever Wyatt Caldwell arrived for a visit. People showed up just to find out what he’d do next.” She laughed. “One time—he must have been eleven or twelve—he and his best friend Billy Rondo made a raft out of an old piano crate and headed down the river like Lewis and Clark. That escapade very nearly stopped my heart.”

Ada smiled, imaging an intrepid young Wyatt, lanky and blue-eyed, setting off on an adventure.

“It was to be expected, I suppose,” Lillian said, her conversation looping back to Hannah Fields. “A young and handsome bachelor with his own business would be a catch anywhere, but especially in a town like Hickory Ridge. We lost so many men to the war.”

“Wyatt told me about Cold Harbor.”

“Did he? That’s a surprise. He rarely talks about the war to anyone.”

They passed the road to Two Creeks. Lillian said, “I hope he warned you about going down to the colored settlement.”

Ada nodded, remembering what Wyatt had said about the Klan. The mere mention of it made her stomach tight with apprehension. She had no intention of ever setting foot in Two Creeks.

Smoky
clop-clopped
past the lumber mill. The yard teemed with men removing bark from newly felled trees and loading them onto wagons. The steam-powered saws screamed, and the crack of axes echoed through the trees. In a small paddock behind the office, Wyatt’s horse stood placidly cropping grass.

Ada drove on. She was curious to know what had happened between Wyatt and Hannah Fields but stifled the question that could spoil Lillian’s good mood. As they drove into the churchyard, Ada saw a couple of rigs and a buckboard tethered to the hitching post.

“Whoa.” Ada tugged the reins. The horse halted and swished his tail. Ada sent Lillian a triumphant grin. “We made it!”

“Naturally.” Lillian gathered her quilting bag. “Help me down. My knees have gone stiff as a washboard.”

Ada helped Lillian out, then reached inside the buggy for her sketchbook.

A small, neat figure appeared in the church doorway. “Ada! Lillian!”

Lillian squinted through her thick spectacles and waved. “Hello, Mariah!”

Mariah ran out to greet them, her cheeks rosy, her brown eyes bright with anticipation. “Ada, you can’t imagine how excited I am about my new hat. I’ve brought my
Godey’s
book, but I see you’ve brought some ideas of your own.” She nodded toward Ada’s sketchbook.

Lillian frowned. “My lands. Is that all you can think about?”

“I’m sorry, Lillian.” Mariah offered Lillian her arm and they started into the church. “I can’t help it.”

“First things first. We must finish that quilt for the orphanage this afternoon.”

“Of course. You’re right.” Mariah winked at Ada. “But it’s been so long since I’ve had anything fashionable to wear. I’m dying for something new for the fall festival.”

They entered the church and walked past the rows of polished wood pews to a room off a narrow hallway. Carrie Daly was already seated at the quilt frame. The brightly colored fabric scraps spilling from the basket at her feet made her simple black mourning dress look even more somber. Sunlight poured through the open windows and spilled across the scrubbed pine floor. A light breeze drifted in, bringing with it the smell of honeysuckle.

Lillian took a chair on the opposite side of the quilt frame and motioned Ada to join her. She took needles and thimbles from her bag and passed one set to Ada. “Do you know how to quilt?”

“I learned a little, helping my mother with her hats. We quilted riding bonnets for the mother of one of my school friends.”

Just then the door opened and Bea Goldston strode into the room. “Sorry I’m late, ladies, I had to—” Spying Ada, she stopped short. “Miss Wentworth, I certainly didn’t expect you here today.”

Lillian’s needle plied the colorful fabric. “In case it has escaped your notice, Bea,” she said without missing a stitch, “this is a church. Everyone is welcome.”

“Yes, of course”—Bea’s smile didn’t come close to reaching her eyes—“for Sunday preaching and such. But the quilting circle . . . it’s different, isn’t it? I thought it was just for our little group. But never mind.” She turned to Lillian, her gray skirts whispering on the pine floor. “I heard that Wyatt is frightfully busy at the mill these days. If it’s a matter of transportation, Lillian, I’ll be happy to drive out and get—”

“Ada and I can manage. Sit down, Bea, if you’re of a mind to help us finish this quilt.”

Bea took a seat, and they all set to work. When Bea, Carrie, and Lillian were busy threading their needles, Mariah smiled at Ada and pantomimed trying on a hat. Ada smiled back, tapping down her apprehension. Was it possible to earn a living making hats?

And if not, what other choice was there?

Wyatt reined in his horse, dismounted, and tossed the reins to Robbie Whiting. “Give Cherokee some water, will you, son, and take her out to the paddock.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Wyatt.” The boy grinned and fished a halfeaten apple from his pocket. “I saved this for Cherokee.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

Boy and horse disappeared around the corner. Wyatt checked on his sawyers, then went inside and tossed his hat onto a chair piled high with papers and books and the last three issues of
Harper’s
magazine. He was grateful that the mill was doing so well but regretted that it left him little time for the pleasure of reading.

The map marking the location of his timberlands had fallen down, and he tacked it back into place. He drank a dipper of cool water from the bucket beside the door and glanced at the stack of order forms, shipping invoices, receipts, and canceled checks Sage had placed on his desk that morning. He raised the window shade and settled into his chair, waiting for Lillian’s buggy to roll past. He felt a pang of regret. He shouldn’t have expected Ada to drive the buggy today. He didn’t blame her for being angry with him.