Bittersweet (40 page)

“Laney! You wouldn’t!” Ruth exclaimed. Mirth danced in her eyes.

“We’re all friends here.” Eddie motioned to Laney. “You go right on ahead.”

Laney finally put the slice of ham on her plate, but she first used it to scoot all the sauerkraut to one side. She tried to think of a topic of conversation to get the attention off of herself. “The discussion about the North and South out in the churchyard is enough to strike fear into even the stoutest heart.”

“Galen and me were readin’ newspapers at the same time.” Ishmael shook his head. “The same day that Lincoln feller did that in-inag … well, when he swore to be the president back a couple weeks ago, the Southern folk come up with a new flag.”

“Inauguration,” Colin provided. “I’ve been studying government at school. The teacher has me keeping track of which states want to secede and which are remaining in the Union. I’ve been surprised at some of the decisions. I’ve had to redraw the map several times now because of who’s seceding and joining the Confederate States.”

“Tennessee surprised me. I thought they’d go with the Southerners,” Josh admitted.

“They still might,” Toledo said. “It’s a volatile situation.”

Laney’s ploy worked far better than she’d hoped. The men all started comparing opinions and information as she merrily scooped all but a very tiny bit of the sauerkraut onto Eddie’s plate.

“Texas siding with the South surprised me.” Galen passed the butter to Ivy, even though she hadn’t asked for it. “I thought Sam Houston would have had the clout and persuasive ability to sway them otherwise.”

“Thankee, Galen.”

Laney’s breath hitched. Galen was attending to Ivy as a man would treat his wife. Then, Ivy called him by his given name instead of Mr. O’Sullivan. The moment was bittersweet—two people she cared for were making a life together.

“Sis and me—we been through Texas. You coulda pushed me o’er with a feather if ’n they’da gone North. Men thar are scrappers. Jefferson Davis is gonna get plenty of fighters from Texas.” Suddenly, Ishmael frowned. “Miss ’Manda, you come from South Car’lina. Yore homeland’s bound to be in the midst of the battlin’. I shoulda thunk afore I opened my trap. Didn’t wanna cause you no more worries than you already got.”

Amanda set down her fork, but Laney could see she’d not eaten a bite. “I’m afraid I’m torn in two, just like our nation. On one hand, I feel the States ought to have rights; on the other, I recently came to the decision that slavery is wrong.”

“Why don’t we find a different topic?” Laney tried not to shudder even though she knew her ham had absorbed some of the taste of the sauerkraut.

“Good idea.” Eddie waved his fork toward Galen. “With the Overland Mail Company taking over the mail contract, do you think there’ll be less need for the Pony Express? The
Contra Costa
Gazette
says part of the Overland’s route is using the same line and ferries as the Pony.”

A glance at Eddie’s plate left Laney agog. He’d nearly inhaled every last bite of the sauerkraut. She watched in amazement as he used his fork to fold a piece of ham the size of her palm in half and shovel it into his mouth in a single bite.

“Can’t see why the mail would make a bit of difference.” Hilda poured more milk for Sean. “Mail moves like molasses; the Pony runs like water. Anything important or urgent will come by Pony.”

Toledo nodded. “The election news is a perfect example of that. What used to take several weeks or even months now can come in ten or eleven days.”

“The eastern portion of the Pony seems to be running more smoothly.” Galen grimaced. “The
Daily Evening Bulletin
ran an editorial earlier this month that pointed out how several deliveries on our end have been behind schedule.”

“It shore ain’t on account of yore relay.” Ivy bobbed her head once to punctuate her comment. “You and Ishy got the fresh horse rarin’ to go. Ain’t been a single time a rider come through and had to wait.”

“With the transcontinental railroad and the telegraph both underway,” Josh said carefully, “do you think they’ll have any effect on the Pony, Galen?”

“As Hilda said, the mail moves like molasses and the Pony runs like water. But trains and telegraphs are like the wind. Once the railroad goes through, it’ll be faster, safer, and cheaper for people to ride to the West coast than to traverse the Oregon Trail. I hold no doubt that once the telegraph is completed, the Pony won’t be needed any longer.”

“Well, if ’n ’tis so, we’ll have us three extra horses—fine horses,” Ivy said.

“Yeah!” Dale agreed.

“Nay,” Galen said, offering his brother a sad smile. “The beasts belong to the company.”

Laney took advantage of a lull in the conversation. “I think the rest of the sauerkraut ought to go to our company!” She passed the bowl to Eddie.

“It’s the best I’ve ever had. Doesn’t anyone else want some, too?”

Josh, Hilda, and Ruth all nearly shouted their denials. Laney hastened to say, “We all know how much you enjoy it. Of course we’d like you to have it.”

Eddie hesitated. “Toledo, how about you?”

“No, thanks. I’m sure Ivy’s a fine cook, but sauerkraut never agrees with me.” He motioned to Eddie to eat up. “Men, the sheriff tells me there’s still a thief in the area.”

“Bold, too.” Eddie shoveled his fork under a pile of sauerkraut. “Broke into the mercantile Thursday night while Lester was sleeping upstairs.”

“Betcha he uses that as ’nuther excuse to hike the prices on thangs.” Ivy made a face. “I cain’t read no more’n my letters, but I know my numbers jist fine. Both times I been in thar, he’s tole me prices are a-goin’ up. I seen his sign. He’s askin’ twelve cents for a dozen eggs, but he’s only payin’ seven cents for ’em.”

“Ma, he’s always given you nine cents a dozen,” Sean said.

Mrs. O’Sullivan hitched her shoulder in a move that didn’t fool Laney into thinking that it didn’t matter. “Aye, he did, boy-o. But things change.”

“And they’re changing again,” Laney declared.

“Yes, they are.” Ruth sounded completely sure of it. “And Laney’s going to tell us all how.”

“We all loved Hilda’s German tree at Christmas.”

“It was a fine sight,” Toledo agreed.

Eddie gawked at Hilda. “You had a tree? We used to do that back home when I was a little boy.”

Dale’s eyes grew huge. “You used to be a little boy?”

“Ja.” Eddie’s robust laugh filled the room. He turned to Laney. “So what is this plan of yours?”

“Hilda said there’s a German tradition of coloring eggs for Easter.”

“Mama would boil the eggs with onion skins to make the shells turn a beautiful yellow,” Hilda explained. “That was the color she did most. But sometimes we’d have other colors, too. She’d draw a cross on them after they cooled.” Hilda’s wrinkles radiated happiness. “We’d roll the eggs on the grass or down a little hill because Mama said it was like the stone rolling away from Christ’s grave.”

“What a lovely tradition,” Amanda commented.

“Dunno much ’bout that grave stone a-movin’,” Ishmael said, “but shore sounds like a heap of fun for young’uns to do that.”

“Exactly!” Laney declared. “I’m buying every last egg you O’Sullivans have for the next two weeks. I’m paying ten cents a dozen, and we’re going to make them the most beautiful eggs anyone in the county ever saw. On Easter Sunday we’ll take baskets full of those eggs to church so everyone in the congregation can take home their very own.”

“If you use cherries or beets, the eggs will be pink.” Eddie grinned. “I remember those best of all. If I keep this secret, will you make some like that?”

Ivy burst out laughing. “Mr. Lufe, I cain’t holp thinkin’ yore still a boy deep down inside.”

“I’ve got plenty of beets.” A sly grin tilted Hilda’s mouth.

“Ahhh, beets.” Eddie’s voice left no doubt that he loved eating them, too.

Laney and Ruth helped clear the table as Hilda cut wedges of pie. In the kitchen, Ruth leaned close to Laney. “You have to admit, Eddie’s a nice man.”

“I never said otherwise.” Laney gave her sister-in-law a telling look. “He’d be nicer for someone else.”

“Oh, I don’t know …” Ruth’s eyes glinted. “You’d never have to eat sauerkraut again.”

“Or beets,” Hilda added.

“I seriously doubt that. He’d probably want them alternating every other day.”

“Laney, you have to give him a chance.” Ruth gave her a stern look. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you paired up Robert and Patricia.”

“They’re head over heels in love. You can’t deny that.” Laney set all the dirty silverware in the empty sauerkraut bowl. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Enough about them,” Hilda said as she slid a big wedge of apple pie onto another plate. “It’s time you stopped pining for Galen.”

Laney looked from Hilda to Ruth. “Galen and Ivy seem to be … better. Weeks ago, that would have devastated me. Now, I can truly say I’m glad for them.”

“Well and good.” Hilda waggled the knife at Laney. “You’re the one we need to pair up, and Eddie’s the finest bachelor in these parts.”

Laney was tempted to mention that Hilda had said the same thing about Lester and Robert, too. After Laney had explained what Lester had said about Galen and Ivy, no one bothered to promote him as a prospective suitor anymore. And as besotted as Robert was with Patricia, his name no longer came up in Ruth and Hilda’s chronic nagging that they euphemistically called matchmaking.

The housekeeper continued, “You have to overlook Eddie’s talent for slaughtering hymns. Every man has his flaws.”

“He’s easy to talk to and well read.” Ruth showed the singlemindedness of a cranky toddler eyeing the candy jar in a mercantile. “I bet you could bring up any subject, and he’d have something remarkable to say about it. You go right on out there and see if it’s not so.”

A few minutes later, Laney had eaten two small bites of pie. Eddie ate his whole slice in three. He eyed her plate. “Are you already full?”

She set down her fork. “I’ve eaten enough.”

“No use letting it go to waste.” Eddie grabbed her plate. Once he polished off her pie, he leaned back in his chair. “I read the most fascinating thing the other day.”

Ruth jerked her head to the side a few times, silently urging Laney to show interest in his comment.

Laney relented—because it was the polite thing to do, not because Ruth would hound her for the next fifty years if she didn’t. Turning toward Eddie, Laney asked, “What did you read?”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “You know how progressive England is.”

Laney nodded. Something about England might be interesting. Anything other than war and robberies would make for pleasant conversation.

“Well, they’ve been building water closets with plumbing in all the newer buildings for the past five years …”

He’s discussing the necessary at the table?!

“… and many actually have water flow that causes them to flush.”

“Oh my,” Amanda said in a very small voice. Someone else gasped, but Laney wasn’t sure who.

Encouraged by what he obviously interpreted as awe, Eddie brought one forearm down and banged the table with his palm. China and silverware jumped. “Such convenience! What do you think of that?”

“That’s … very—” Laney turned to glare at Ruth—“
remarkable
.”

C
HAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I
promise I won’t puke all o’er the front of you.” Galen arched a brow. “I figure I’m safe. You wouldn’t dare be sick all over that Easter frock Ruth gave you.”

Ivy fussed with the hoops. “Ain’t none too shore ’bout these thangs,” she told Mrs. O’Sullivan. “I’m ascairt I’ll move wrong and all them church-folk’ll get a long gawk at all them parts I’m s’posed to pretend I ain’t got.”

“Remember what Laney taught you: glide, don’t gallop. You’ll be fine.” Ma tugged Ivy’s shawl up higher and nodded her approval. “We’re ready. Colin, once we’re in the wagon, bring Dale out to me.”

“Aye, Ma.”

“I’ll tote Sean,” Ishmael volunteered.

Galen looked over at the boys sleeping on Ma’s bed and grinned. They’d stayed up most of the night in the stable, watching as Hortense farrowed. Ruth had given Dale a children’s book on animals, and he’d tested everyone’s patience by quoting the page on pigs. He’d told Laney they could expect eight piglets, seeing as it was Hortense’s first litter. Maybe ten if they were lucky. Hortense exceeded all expectations and had twelve.

In the wee hours of the morning, when Sean could be convinced that Hortense was done and Dale felt certain his sow and every last piglet were fine, Galen brought the boys back to the house. Ivy surprised them by having hot chocolate ready. When they were done, she’d had the boys wash up and put on their Sunday best pants. Ma let Sean sleep on one side of her and Dale on the other. Now Ishmael and Colin would help the lads put on their shirts and shoes, but Galen fully expected them to doze the entire way to church.

As soon as Galen lifted the ladies into the buckboard, Ishmael rolled Sean into the back and Ma cradled his head in her lap. “Colin,” Ivy whispered, “gimme lil’ Dale.” She didn’t lie Dale down. Instead, she kept him across her lap and tipped his head onto her shoulder. A momentary frown sketched across her features. With her free arm, she tugged off her shawl and laid it over his baby brother. Ma straightened the end of it so the shawl completely blanketed Dale’s curled-up body.