Tomorrow's Garden (3 page)

“Well, I don’t.” Once again, Jake’s response was predictable.

Ruth laid down her fork and looked at Harriet, a question in her eyes. “It depends on what you mean by work.”

“It’s simple. Everyone is going to contribute to this family.” No one would grow up like Father, believing that work was beneath his dignity. Harriet gave Jake a stern look before turning her attention to Sam and Daniel. “I imagine one of the farmers will hire you boys. There’s plenty to do in the fields.” And, unlike the people in Fortune, no one would look askance if the Kirk children took jobs. No one in Ladreville believed they were wealthy. Fortunately, there were no expectations—false or otherwise—here.

When Jake groaned, Daniel grinned as he said, “Maybe we can play with the animals. I liked those goats we saw.”

His brother shot him a scornful look. “Dummy. You don’t know anything. No one pays you to play with goats.”

Though Harriet had been refilling the children’s glasses, she plunked the pitcher on the table and fixed her gaze on Jake. “That’s quite enough, Jake. There’s no reason to upset your brother.” At ten, Daniel idolized his oldest brother, and the harsh words had brought a flush to his cheeks.

Harriet tried not to sigh. This was one of the problems she hoped their new home would resolve. Surely here Jake would revert to his former amiable self. The transformation, it appeared, would not be immediate.

“Why shouldn’t I upset him?” Jake demanded. “You upset me. First you drag me away from my friends, then you announce you’re selling me into slavery.”

On another day she might have been more patient, but today Harriet was tired and frustrated. It was one thing for Jake to be discontented, quite another for him to poison the others’ minds. “Not one more word out of you. Do you hear?”

Though his expression was sullen, Jake nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What about me?” Mary asked, her little face contorted with confusion. “What am I going to do?”

“You and Ruth will take care of the house and cook the meals.”

The frown vanished, replaced by a brilliant smile. “Goody. Ruth can teach me to cook.”

It appeared that Mary was the only member of the Kirk family who liked Harriet’s plan, for worry lines appeared between Ruth’s eyes. “You mean I have to go to the market?”

Harriet had coddled Ruth, coddled all of them, for that matter, but it had to stop. “It’s about time you did. Staying inside isn’t good for you.” Or for the rest of the family. Though Harriet knew her sister was only shy, someone in Fortune had started the rumor that Ruth was touched in the head, the result of which had been that the majority of Fortune’s youngsters would no longer play with the Kirk children, lest they contract some unspeakable disease.

Ruth’s lips tightened. “I wish we hadn’t come here.”

“Me too.” Jake seconded his sister’s declaration.

Though the others said nothing, Harriet sensed they were siding with Jake and Ruth. Had she made a mistake in believing they could start over here? It couldn’t be a mistake. She wouldn’t let it be, for there was no turning back.

2

“The big man’s here.” Though Harriet was just inside the door, Mary shouted as if she needed to be heard at the far end of the house.

“His name is Mr. Wood,” Harriet explained as she shooed the rest of the family outside. He was indeed big, although it was rude of Mary to say so. Harriet studied the man who stood next to his palomino, noticing how the horse’s coat was almost the same shade as the mayor’s hair and wondering if that was the reason he’d chosen this particular stallion.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wood,” Harriet said, continuing her appraisal as she approached him. Her first impressions had not been wrong. He was tall—at least a foot taller than she—and the muscles of his arms and shoulders were scarcely hidden by his chambray shirt and loose-fitting jacket. From his freshly polished boots to the top of his hat, this was a man who demanded attention. It wasn’t anything he said or even his expression; it was simply the way he stood, the almost imperious angle of his head combined with the seemingly casual way his hand remained close to his hip, ready to draw the six-shooter at the slightest provocation. Every inch of this man announced that he was a formidable force.

He wasn’t only formidable. He was also handsome. Harriet didn’t claim to be an expert on men, and her experience with Thomas had taught her to look beyond a pretty face, but there was no doubt that Lawrence Wood was handsome. While many men adorned themselves with facial hair, at least a moustache if not a full beard, Ladreville’s mayor was clean-shaven, leaving no doubt that his features were finely chiseled. His jaw was firm and square, his cheekbones were well sculpted, and his nose was perfectly straight. But the dominant feature in the close-to-perfect face was his deep blue eyes. Right now those eyes were fixed on her. Thank goodness she saw no sign of pity in them.

“Good afternoon, Miss Kirk. I see that you believe in punctuality.”

Had he thought she’d keep him waiting? Though Harriet had heard of women doing that, she had always considered it the height of rudeness. “Does that surprise you?”

“No, ma’am. Not at all.”

Though his words were polite, his eyes were sparkling with something . . . could it be laughter? That was absurd. There was nothing humorous about punctuality. Biting back the tart response that tickled the tip of her tongue, Harriet climbed into the wagon with her siblings. Though she normally drove the team, she had agreed that Jake could take the reins this afternoon. Perhaps that would improve his mood.

“We’re going to the other side of the river,” Mr. Wood said as he mounted his horse. “Follow me.”

“Say, mister, that’s a nice horse you’ve got,” Sam called out.

The mayor slowed his pace to come alongside the wagon. “His name is Snip,” he told Sam. “When I saw the white mark between his nostrils, I knew that would be his name.”

“How come?” Mary appeared fascinated by either the horse or the story.

“That kind of marking is called a snip,” Mr. Wood explained. Oddly, though Mary had asked the question, he directed his words to Sam. “If it extended all the way up his face, it would be a blaze.”

“I see.” Sam nodded solemnly.

Harriet bit back a smile as she realized Lawrence Wood had given her siblings a short lesson on equine terminology. Though they complained when she took the opportunity to teach them something, they appeared to relish the mayor’s tutelage. Only Jake remained sullen.

When they reached the end of Rhinestrasse and approached the Medina River, Jake scowled. “This town’s so backward it doesn’t have a bridge.”

Surely it was Harriet’s imagination that the mayor, who’d been riding next to them, cringed, just as it must have been her imagination that, although he looked at the others, he had averted his eyes from Mary. Harriet looked at the water, assessing the level. “There’s no need for a bridge. The water’s not very deep.”

Lawrence Wood shook his head. “That’s true most of the time, but summer rain can swell the river by more than a foot in the space of an hour. There’s no crossing it then.”

“Then it’s fortunate everything is on this bank.” As they’d driven into town, she had noted that the primary business establishments were on Hochstrasse, and Jake had reported that the open-air market was located on rue du Marché, the French name for Market Street, only a block away from their house. As far as Harriet could see, the far side of the river was pastoral.

“Most everything is here,” Mr. Wood said, “but the doctor and the new midwife are on the other bank. That’s why I’ve been trying to convince the townspeople to build a bridge.”

Harriet had no need of a midwife. The doctor was a different story. With Harriet’s three brothers possessing an uncanny ability to break limbs, Fortune’s doctor had earned a good living treating them. Trying to make light of it, she said, “Did you hear that, boys? We’ll just have to ensure we don’t need the doctor during a rainstorm.”

When they’d crossed the river, Lawrence gestured toward the first road on the right. “That’s the Lazy B ranch.” Though partially blocked by oak and pecan trees, the outline of a two-story farmhouse was visible. “A family named Bramble used to live there. Now Zach and Priscilla Webster call it home.”

Though his voice had been matter-of-fact, it caught ever so slightly as he pronounced the woman’s name. Harriet turned to look at Lawrence, but there was nothing to see. He was as calm as ever. She, on the other hand, must have been suffering from an overactive imagination if she thought that Priscilla Webster meant something special to him.

“The next ranch is where we’re going, the Bar C,” Lawrence continued. “After that comes the Friedrichs’ farm. That’s it for this side of the river. You’ll get to meet all those neighbors tonight.”

Only minutes later they were on Bar C land, approaching the ranch house. It could have been any Texas ranch with one exception. Harriet’s quick glance told her that the Bar C contained the normal complement of outbuildings and a corral where two curious horses watched their arrival. There was even a small burial plot shaded by half a dozen trees. What surprised her and what distinguished the Bar C from the countless other ranches she had seen was that, although the barn and other outbuildings were constructed of timber, the house itself was adobe.

“Welcome!” A pretty brunette whose thickening midsection left no doubt that she was great with child emerged from the house to greet them as they spilled from the wagon. This, Harriet knew without being told, was Sarah Canfield, Ladreville’s former schoolteacher whose delicate condition, to use Grandma’s term, was the reason Harriet and her family were now in Ladreville. The fond glance he gave Sarah left no doubt that the man at her side was her husband, Clay. Though almost as tall as Lawrence and undeniably handsome, somehow Clay Canfield looked like a pale imitation of Lawrence Wood.

Harriet shook herself mentally. It was absurd. She didn’t care about the town’s mayor. She had learned her lesson with Thomas. A handsome face and sweet words were of no value unless there was substance underneath them. Fixing a smile on her face, Harriet took another step forward. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Canfield.”

Sarah shook her head. “Please call us by our given names. I don’t know what it was like in Fortune, but you’ll discover we don’t put much stock in formality here.” She turned toward the town’s mayor. “Lawrence, I appreciate your escorting the Kirks.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

“You can’t fool me.” Sarah accompanied her words with a raised eyebrow. “I know you Rangers prefer being active to sitting around and making polite conversation, but I do appreciate your coming.”

Harriet gave Lawrence Wood an appraising glance. A Texas Ranger. That explained his commanding presence. The lawmen were famous throughout the state and, Harriet suspected, well beyond its borders. Renowned for their fighting skills and their mastery of outdoor living, their names were frequently spoken in the hushed tones reserved for heroes. Though Ladreville was a charming town, Harriet couldn’t help but wonder what had induced Lawrence Wood to leave the Rangers and come here. Today was not the day to ask him.

As Harriet introduced her siblings to Sarah and Clay, a little girl raced out of the ranch house. “Ooh, a girl!” The dark-haired child who bore a strong resemblance to Sarah grabbed Mary’s hand and started back toward the house, dragging Mary with her. “Come see my dolly.”

Sarah gave Harriet a wry smile. “That’s my sister, Thea. As you can see, she’s so excited by the thought of female companionship that she’s forgotten all the manners I’ve tried to drum into her. I hope your sister doesn’t mind.”

“She won’t,” Harriet assured her. “I suspect Mary will be thrilled to play big sister.” Her brothers, on the other hand, were looking anything but thrilled. Jake’s prediction of boredom was coming true.

As if he had read her thoughts, Clay Canfield approached Jake. “You boys ever play horseshoes?” When Jake shrugged, Daniel poked him in the side. “C’mon,” Clay continued. “We’ve got time for a game before the others arrive.” He gave Lawrence an appraising look. “You too, big boy.”

Jake’s snicker met with a grin. “I reckon a boy”—Lawrence emphasized the word—“is never too old to play horseshoes.”

“And we ladies are never too young to enjoy a glass of cool tea.” Sarah led the way, ushering Harriet and Ruth into her home.

Harriet’s first impression was one of welcome coolness. Even though it was late afternoon, the August sun was still brutally hot. But though the closest trees were too far away to shade the house, its interior was cool, thanks to the thick adobe walls.

“Your home is beautiful.” As her eyes adjusted to the lower light, Harriet admired the large central room with its comfortable furniture and colorful braided rugs. “I was surprised by the adobe, though.”

Sarah sank into a chair, placing both hands on her abdomen to cradle the child within. “The original house was timber like our neighbors’, but Clay and I decided to rebuild with adobe after the fire.”

Her words were matter-of-fact, as if a burned house was a normal event. Harriet shuddered as images of another house and another fire raced through her, scorching her with the memory. Though it had been almost seven years, she could not forget what had happened that November day. She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump that had taken residence. “Was anyone hurt?” The words came out as little more than a croak. Ruth said nothing but moved closer and slid her arm around Harriet’s waist.

“No, thank God.” Sarah emphasized her words with a shake of her head. “We were blessed, but we didn’t want to take any chances.”

“I understand.” Though she directed her response at Sarah, Harriet gave her sister a meaningful look. She hadn’t been overreacting when she’d balked at the idea of allowing the family to sleep upstairs. Ladreville was no stranger to fire.

The sound of a multitude of voices interrupted Harriet’s thoughts. Her hostess wrinkled her nose and pretended to frown. “Just what I feared. Everyone is arriving at once. I hope you’ll be able to remember all the names. We have five more guests, and it looks like the boys—both big and small—are coming with them.”

Harriet shrugged as she and Ruth rose to greet the newcomers. Compared to the challenge she was likely to meet her first day of school when she faced a room of strangers, five was nothing. “Since there are six of us, including three boys who delight in answering to each other’s names, I suspect you should save your concern for your other guests.”

Sarah laughed and began the introductions, leading Harriet and Ruth toward a blond man and an older couple whose resemblance announced that they were his parents. “I’d like you to meet our neighbors to the south, Frau and Herr Friedrich and their son Karl.”

It appeared Karl had inherited his father’s medium height and stocky build, while his almost painfully thin mother had given him her blue eyes. Though his parents’ hair was now liberally streaked with gray, Harriet could see that it had once been the same sandy blond as their son’s. With his square face and undistinguished features, Karl Friedrich was not a handsome man. Moreover, he lacked Lawrence Wood’s distinguished air. Harriet bit the inside of her cheek to stop her errant thoughts. A man’s appearance wasn’t important. Hadn’t she learned that lesson with Thomas? What counted was what was inside him. She managed a quick smile for the Friedrich family.

“
Willkommen
.” Frau Friedrich accompanied her greeting with a broad smile.

“Welcome to Ladreville.” Her husband seconded her wishes. “We’re glad to have a teacher for our new school.”

Karl stroked his beard. “I’m glad to have pretty girls in Ladreville.” He was, Harriet was certain, referring to Ruth. She was the pretty Kirk sister. Harriet was the bossy one, or so the residents of Fortune claimed. But, instead of smiling at Ruth, Karl directed his next words to Harriet. “I see you have good strong brothers too. Your parents must be proud. Will they be joining you here?”

“Our parents are no longer alive.” She had mentioned that in her correspondence with Michel Ladre, though she had felt no compunction to describe the circumstances of their deaths.
“There are things which others need not learn.”
Grandma had been speaking of Harriet’s parents’ lives. If she had been alive, Grandma would have declared that the manner of their deaths benefited from similar circumspection.

“I’m sorry. If there’s anything Otto or I can do, you need only ask.” To Harriet’s surprise, Frau Friedrich hugged her. Harriet could not remember the last time anyone other than Ruth or Mary had hugged her. Perhaps it should have seemed awkward, being embraced by a stranger, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through her at the simple gesture of comfort.

A soft cough reminded Frau Friedrich there were others waiting to greet the Kirks. As the motherly woman stepped aside, Harriet looked up at one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Tall and slender, with strawberry blonde hair and brilliant green eyes, she was Harriet’s vision of the perfect woman. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was accompanied by an even taller dark-haired man whose smile said he adored her. This was, Harriet knew instinctively, genuine love, the kind she had read about in books, the kind that had eluded her.