Courting Miss Hattie (12 page)

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H
attie wasn't sure about the dress. It was a light summer lawn with a blue organdy-and-lace insert at the yoke. The sleeves were wide and fluffy with lacy double cuffs, and the skirt sported three rows of stiff organdy ruffles at the hem. It was a delicate feminine dress that made her eyes almost true blue and emphasized her tiny waist. She wanted to look her best, and as far as her apparel went, this dress was it. But it was not her typical wardrobe for an evening with friends, and she hoped she did not appear too eager.

She was ready a good half hour before
Ancil
was supposed to call, and the waiting made her extremely nervous. Unused to idle time, she walked out onto the front porch. Standing there a moment, she worried that
Ancil
might come down the road and spy her waiting. Stepping down to the ground, she strolled toward the elm tree at the end of the drive.

A small bush of four-o'clocks had bloomed, and she stopped to admire the blossoms, gently caressing the soft inner petals and breathing in the delicate scent. The white blossoms would look perfect against the blue organdy on her dress, she thought. Carefully pinching off three of the little blossoms, she pinned two at the collarbone of her bodice and added the other to the knot of hair she'd set high on her head. The flowers were probably silly, she told herself, and undoubtedly made her appear frivolous, but she couldn't deny herself the small vanity.

As she walked around to the back of the house, she admired the spring evening and the neat, well-kept place she called home. There was
a lightness
to her heart that made her almost giddy. Having prided herself for so long on not caring about her old-maid status, she was surprised to find the adventure of being courted oddly pleasant.

As she rounded the back corner of her house, the goat ambled up to her to check out the new gown. Hattie petted her long sleek neck and scratched her playfully behind the ears. "Well, what do you think,
Myrene
?" she asked, swirling her skirts. "Do you think I'm too gussied up for this occasion?"

"I think you're liable to pop old Drayton's eyes out."

Hattie glanced up quickly at the words. She hadn't known Reed and Harmon were still there. They were sitting near the back steps, scrunched down like boys playing marbles as they studied a sketch in the dirt of their plans for the rice field.

Chagrined that they'd heard her foolish conversation, Hattie was reassured by their warm smiles. "You startled me," she said, not quite able to meet their eyes.

"You look right good, Miss Hattie," Harmon said, rising to his feet and politely doffing his hat.

She inexplicably giggled at the young man's sincerity. "I hope I don't look the fool," she said, glancing at Reed for approval.

"No, Miss Hattie. You look real nice," Reed said honestly. In fact, he was somewhat startled. Seeing Hattie all dressed up on a Saturday night made him feel he should be squiring her someplace, not
Ancil
Drayton. Unwittingly, he remembered that moment in the hog pen when he had held her close. As he had done on previous occasions when that memory flitted through his mind, he quickly cast it out, unwilling to dwell on its meaning. "I've never seen you in that dress before," he added.

She shrugged. "It's not the kind of thing you wear to wash down the hogs."

"And your hair's different to." He walked up to her and gestured with his finger for her to turn around.

Hattie felt disconcerted at slowly revolving herself for his display. Inexplicably, she trembled under his scrutiny.

"Those flowers look real fine," he said quietly.

Her brow furrowed in self-doubt. "Do I look like a
plowhorse
pretending to be a high-stepping filly?"

His smile was warm and reassuring. "You look, Miss Hattie, like a woman expecting a gentleman to come courting."

Shyly lowering her eyes, Hattie was inordinately pleased. She could feel Reed's gaze on her, and the trembling he'd caused made her suddenly aware of her flesh and the magical sparks that seemed to be skittering across it.

Eager to change the subject and regain her composure, she inspected the drawing scratched out in the dirt. "So this is my rice field?" she asked Harmon, seating herself on the porch step.

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a wide grin, eager to show off the design. "This is the main levee between the field and the river." He pointed to a wide line carved into the dirt. "The floodgates will be here and here." He indicated two green cottonwood pods at either end of the line. "These horizontal lines are the levees for the cuts, and this rock is the pump."

Reed squatted beside her and began to illustrate how the system would operate. "The pump works on either side of the levee," he explained, "so we can use gravity when it favors us. That'll save on fuel. When the river is higher than the field, we won't need the pump to flood it, and if the field gets higher than the river, we can drain it easily."

Excitement rippled through Hattie. "I can hardly wait," she said. "You've been talking about this so long, Reed, I guess I never believed I would actually see it. When are we going to be able to start?"

"Monday morning!" he announced without hesitation. "I'm going to try to get everything ready tonight, so we can start turning dirt at daybreak."

The three exchanged delighted glances. Reed saw his dream about to be realized, Harmon saw his opportunity to make something of himself, and Hattie saw herself back in farming at last. Words were unnecessary, until the sound of an approaching rider interfered with their reverie.

"I believe Romeo has arrived," Reed joked, offering his hand to help Hattie rise. It irked him more than it should that she would be spending the evening with Drayton.

"Not Romeo!" she said with mock sternness. "Mr. Drayton is nothing like that foolish pig."

Reed's smile was positively wicked. "I guess that means you won't
be needing
to take the
yardbroom
with you."

Hattie's mouth dropped open in speechless shock. With a tender touch of his knuckles, Reed chucked her on the chin, effectively shutting her mouth. "I'd best hitch up the buggy for you, Miss Hattie."

* * *

Harmon
Leege
watched Miss Hattie's buggy drive away with
Ancil
Drayton at the reins. His partner—well, maybe even his friend—Reed Tyler, sat silently beside him and didn't even glance up at the departing couple. It was obvious Reed didn't like Drayton, but he seemed more bothered by his presence than necessary. Drayton wasn't much, Harm had to admit, but Miss Hattie was real sweet, and it was nice she finally had a man of her own.

Gazing back at the crude drawing he'd made in the dirt, Harmon couldn't help but feel pride in what he'd done. He was no engineer, no builder, but he knew his design was a good one. "I think we've about got this thing together," he said.

Reed nodded. "I can't think of a thing we've forgotten, but there's always something."

Harm silently agreed. It was impossible to prepare for all the things that could happen. In his short life, he'd already learned some hard lessons about how plans can go awry. "The way we've set up the equipment ought to work," he said, "no matter what the conditions."

Reed nodded again. "We've done all the usual things we saw in the rice fields around
Helena
."

"Barring some act of God, I think this thing should work."

Reed gazed off to the horizon as if trying to see the future. "The rest we'll just have to figure out by trial and error."

"I'm glad you decided to go ahead with this," Harm said, leaning back to get a better look at his partner. "I was sure when your uncle said he would help you buy out that old man on the place next to his, you would jump at the chance."

Reed shrugged. "I promised Miss Hattie."

Harmon chuckled. "I suspect she would have understood about you leaving. That was a chance of a lifetime, Reed. As soon as I heard your uncle's offer, I figured you'd be packing your bags."

"I don't know about that," Reed said lamely. It wasn't the first time his uncle Ed had found him a good deal on some rice ground. Reed had always found an excuse to reject the idea, though. "Just buying a place that's already planted in rice isn't the challenge we've got here," he argued irrationally. It wasn't very good reasoning, but it was all he had. He didn't know why he'd felt compelled to turn down every offer, but the idea of leaving Colfax Farm was abhorrent to him.

Harm snorted. "It sure isn't the challenge. Not the challenge, not the risk—hell, this isn't even your land. You were a damn fool to turn your uncle down." Two big dimples appeared in Harm's cheeks as he smiled. "But I'm sure glad you did."

Reed laughed. He genuinely liked Harm and felt a kinship with him. Shaking his head, he said, "It's all that rice pudding Aunt Nell made us eat. I think it must rot the brain."

"You better hope it doesn't, 'cause I'm planning to be eating nothing else in the next few years."

"Me, too," Reed said, then more seriously added, "That is, if this rice will really work here."

"
You losing
your nerve?" Harm teased. "When something finally begins to go right, you start borrowing trouble?"

"Not usually. But usually when I'm set on a gamble, it's my own money on the table."

"Miss Hattie
don't
seem to be worried."

"That's 'cause she trusts us," Reed said, slapping the dust off his hat. "I just hope she's right."

"How can we lose?" Harm asked. "Miss Hattie had to have it right. The ground is good for rice, the equipment will work, and she's got two strong backs that both want to succeed real
bad
."

"Because we're both landless and broke with something to prove," Reed said truthfully, and turned to look at the other man. "You keep this up, Harm, and you're going to get where you actually like me."

Harm immediately shuttered his expression. "I've never said a word
agin
you," he said flatly.

"I suspect you haven't, but you don't like me. And it's because of Bessie Jane."

"Bessie Jane Turpin is nothing to me." Harmon's denial was quick and curt. Reed nodded and opened his mouth to say more, but Harmon forestalled him. "She's your woman, and that's the end of it."

The two were silent for a moment, allowing the tense feelings to pass. It was Harmon who forced the return to normal conversation. "As for Bessie Jane," he said, "it
is
Saturday night. Hadn't you better head off to see her?"

"I'm not going over tonight," Reed said, rising to his feet. "I'm going to try to overhaul that plow a little. I don't want it bogging down in the wet ground. I'll be seeing Bessie Jane tomorrow at church."

Harmon nodded, but he didn't quite understand how anyone could prefer the company of a plow to being close to Bessie Jane Turpin.

* * *

It was after ten when Hattie and
Ancil
stepped out onto the
Jessups
' front porch.

"I swear, Preacher,"
Ancil
said, "
there
is something positively sinful about the way you always win."

Preacher Able laughed good-naturedly. "I suspect that's why I was called to preach. The good Lord didn't want me making my living skinning boys at the Domino Parlor."

"Able!" Millie's voice was horrified. "The reverend didn't mean a word of that," she quickly assured her guests.

"Of course not," Hattie said,
then
gave the preacher a teasing wink.

After saying their good-byes,
Ancil
handed her up into the buggy. Hattie seated herself on the far right side, modestly arranging her skirts. To her dismay,
Ancil
, rather than making himself comfortable on the left side of the buggy seat, sat squarely in the middle.

He unhitched the lines from the brake handle, gave a cluck and a shake, and headed the buggy out to the road. He was sitting so near that Hattie was very aware of his person. His clean white Sunday shirt seemed close and threatening, and the smell of hair tonic mingling with the faint odor of snuff was overpowering.

She tried discreetly to move a little farther away, only to discover that he was sitting on her dress.

"So, Miss Hattie, ma'am, did you have a good time tonight?" he asked hopefully, his smile gleaming in the moonlight.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, attempting to lean casually away from him.

"I never realized you were such a cutup," he said.

"A 'cutup'? Oh, I enjoy a bit of fun, just like everyone else,
I
guess."

Ancil
seemed to approve of that answer and began to lean in her direction. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "I guess we all just enjoy a bit of fun." Transferring the reins to his left hand, he adjusted his hat with his right, and then, his gesture overly casual, brought his arm down to rest on the seat behind her.

Hattie eased forward, away from his arm. She hoped he would recognize her disapproval of his initiative and make a polite and hasty retreat.
Ancil
, however, seeming unconcerned with her opposition, matched each inch of her withdrawal with an inch of advance.