Courting Miss Hattie (8 page)
"I like children."
"Of course you do. I just didn't imagine you'd want to take on seven of somebody else's."
Looking into his eyes, Hattie could see only sincerity and concern. There was no teasing now. He was giving her his honest opinion, and she felt obliged to respond with equal truthfulness. "I don't know if we have anything in common or not," she admitted. "I thought that was the purpose of courting, for a couple to get to know each other."
Reed nodded, although he wasn't sure he or most men would concur with that assessment.
"The children," she went on, "well, I don't really know. Like most other women, I always imagined myself with a family.
Somehow it never worked out that way."
Picking a piece of nonexistent lint from her skirt and straightening her already perfectly straight collar, Hattie gathered her thoughts. "I realize there may be a bit of good humor and gossip about my interest in Mr. Drayton. However, I feel that I owe it to myself and to him to find out if we would be compatible."
Reed leaned back against the tree and studied her. She was obviously shy about discussing her tender feelings, and he wished he could say something to put her at ease. The sunshine filtering through the tree dappled her complexion but didn't disguise the embarrassed flush on her cheeks.
She was not so much older than
himself
, he realized. Five years was a lot at ten or fifteen, but once people reached their twenties, the differences in age seemed to shrink. It was not really so strange that the things he wanted—a home, a wife, children—would be the same things she wanted.
In her faded calico
workdress
she was neat and clean, and not totally unattractive, he thought. Shifting his gaze to take in the specifics of her anatomy, he noted that her bosom was full enough that a man would have no trouble finding it in the dark.
Her waist was decently narrow and curved nicely into hips that hinted at womanly excess. Her muscled arms and tanned skin were definitely not in fashion, but few men would find fault with her warm curves if they were offered.
As if sensing his scrutiny, she turned to look at him, smiling her usual open, friendly smile. He smiled back and decided that if it wasn't pretty, her wide smile was definitely appealing. A man might have his preferences, Reed thought, but Hattie should not have languished for lack of beaux. If she wanted a man, she ought to have one.
"What are you thinking with that strange look on your face?" she asked.
Hesitating a minute to try to gather all his thoughts into a coherent statement, Reed shook his head. "I'm thinking,"
he
said finally, "that
Ancil
Drayton is a lucky man to have caught your eye, Miss Hattie."
Her jaw dropped open as she stared at him, then the noonday quiet was broken by her deep, rich laughter. "You'd best be practicing that smooth talking with Bessie Jane," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "This courting business is new to me, and I'm liable to get my head puffed up like a cottonmouth!"
The uneasiness between them vanished as he joined in her laughter, and in a few moments the guilt in Reed's heart and the hurt in Hattie's vanished like salt in a stewpot.
"When are you going to have all this planted?" she asked him, correctly assuming that the south field was the last to be plowed.
"If the weather holds out, I hope to have most of the seed in the ground by next week sometime," he said.
"Then it's about time we start talking more seriously about the rice."
He nodded, grinning with eagerness. "I've been thinking about it and making some lists of the things we're going to need."
"Are we going to have to send off for equipment?" Hattie asked, knowing that even the fastest shipments could delay them past time to plant.
Reed shook his head. "I'm going to try to get away for a few days and go down
to visit
Uncle Ed. I'll let him have a look at my plans and see if he thinks there's something else we're going to need. I think I can get
ahold
of a pump around here somewhere. That's the most crucial piece of equipment. The rest I can probably piece together with scrap."
"Good," she said, her face serious with concentration. "Do you know how much money you're going to need? We can go to town when you're ready and draw out whatever cash you think it's going to take for lumber and seed."
He twisted slightly, rising to his knees as he drew a piece of paper from the back pocket of his trousers. "I've worked up a kind of estimate of what I think we'll need and what it's likely to cost," he said, placing the worn paper in her hand. "I think you should look it over and think about it, to make sure you really want to spend this kind of money on something that's pretty much a gamble."
Hattie unfolded the paper and read the carefully penciled list of what they'd need, the amounts added together on the side. After only a couple of moments, she handed it back to Reed. "I have thought about this rice field," she said, "and I know it's a gamble. It's the same kind of gamble I took when I decided to raise those purebred
Hampshires
. People round here said a pig is a pig, but I knew better, and I was willing to take a chance that I might be wrong. If we lose this money, neither of us will starve. If we don't lose it, well, we will really have proved something."
A smile of genuine approval and appreciation spread across Reed's face.
Hattie beamed at his obvious pride in her, and she felt a bit of pride herself. She had earned this money on her own. Now she was investing it in a new venture that could make the Colfax farm one of the most profitable in the county. A woman had a right to feel a bit of a high step about that.
CHAPTER
5
O
n Saturday, Hattie was surprised to see that Reed had loaded up the wagon instead of the buggy for the ride to the bank in town. Dressed for company, he obviously planned to go with her.
"This may be your rice field, Miss Hattie," he said as he seated himself beside her and took up the reins. "But I don't intend to allow any other plowboy to talk you into letting him build it."
Hattie widened her eyes in feigned astonishment. "Do you think any other plowboy would be fool enough to do it?"
"Not likely," Reed said with a laugh as he gave the horse a click of the lines. "I'm going to talk with Harmon
Leege
about a pump," he went on as they drove through the cool morning. "I heard he's got an old twelve-horsepower
crankstart
that he picked up for a song. If I could get us a good deal on that, it could help out a lot with expenses."
"That would be good, Reed," she said, her tone businesslike. "But I've got the money in the bank, and I don't see any need to stint on an investment. If
Leege's
pump won't do, we'll order a brand-new one out of
Memphis
."
Reed gave her an approving smile. "I've a mind to try to get by as cheaply as we can," he said. "But you're right. There's no reason to spend money on equipment that won't do the job."
"When do you think to get started?"
"I'm going to head down to
Helena
the first part of the week. I'll spend a couple of days there, buy us some seed, and be back here to start digging on Friday or Saturday."
"Digging?" Her tone was incredulous. "
It's
rice I want in this field, not potatoes!"
He chuckled at her teasing sarcasm. "This first year, it will take a bit more than just plowing. I'm going to have to build levees all around the field. The plot is just about big enough for four cuts, so I'll run a long embankment down the center and another crosswise against it. The
cutbanks
between the plots don't have to be as strong as the ones around the field, but all of them will take a heap of dirt, and the only way to get it is to dig it up."
"Are you going to need another man to help you, Reed? It sounds like there's going to be a lot of work involved."
He shook his head. "I can always get one of my brothers to give me a hand if I need it. Truly, Miss Hattie, I've
been wanting
to do this so long, I suspect I won't even notice the work."
"You'll notice, all right," she said. "You'll just be too self-satisfied to complain."
* * *
The small county seat was a collection of low-lying buildings fanning out in four directions from the big brick courthouse that sat in the middle of the square.
The Farmers' Bank dominated the north side of the square, and Reed eased the wagon up next to the boardwalk in front of it. Securing the horse, he helped Hattie down and rescued her handbag from the seat. "Do you want me to go with you to see the banker?" he asked.
"No," she replied as she straightened her bonnet and tried shaking a bit of the dust out of her skirts. "You go on and see about that pump. I can take care of my own banking business."
Reed tipped his hat, and Hattie headed into the imposing gray stone building with the bars on the windows. She would meet Reed at Turpin's Dry Goods in an hour. Heading the wagon down the street, Reed had a word and a glance for everyone he met, carefully remembering to lift his hat for the ladies. Getting into town was strictly a Saturday occurrence for most farmers, and as the multitude of wagons and rigs tied along the street suggested, nobody wanted to miss it.
On the far end of
Leege
had his place of business. At one time,
Leege's
shack had been just another shanty by the river. Now the town had grown up around it. At nineteen years old, Harmon made his living repairing and selling overhauled farm implements and used hardware of all kinds. Reed saw him working on something out in the yard as he drove up. He hailed him, and the younger man returned Reed's wave with a halfhearted one of his own.
"Good morning, Harm," Reed said, jumping down from the wagon and walking up to meet him. Harmon
Leege
was big, almost brawny. His bare arms, bulging with muscles, were deeply tanned, though they retained a hint of redness that was typical of blonds. That is, Reed thought
,
if one could call Harm's hair blond. Actually, it was just plain yellow and curled up tightly against his head in waves and ridges.
"
Tyler
," the young man said briskly in greeting. "Something you wanted, or you just stop by to socialize?"
Reed nearly smiled at
Leege's
rudeness. It was rumored that Harm
Leege
was sweet on Bessie Jane. Talk was that he'd asked to court her back before she took up with Reed. The two were worlds apart, and Arthur Turpin had put a stop to that in a hurry. His daughter was far too good for the likes of Harmon
Leege
!
Old Man
Leege
, Harm's father, had a fondness for liquor. When his wife walked out on him years ago, he'd resigned himself to his position in the community as town drunk. Harmon himself never touched a drop. That was well known. He'd established his own reputation and his own position. Folks called him the junkman. He was not a bad sort, most agreed, but Reed knew few parents would welcome him as a suitor for their daughters. He could almost feel sorry for Harmon, but he, too, couldn't see Harmon courting Bessie Jane.
