Tomorrow's Garden (4 page)

“Sarah went back to the kitchen to check on something,” the woman said with a kind smile, “so we’ll introduce ourselves. I’m Priscilla Webster, and this is my husband, Zach.”

“You live on the Lazy B, don’t you?”

Priscilla nodded. “It sounds as if you’ve been given the grand tour of Ladreville, such as it is.”

“The tour of this side of the river, at any rate. Mr. Wood pointed out your ranch as we rode by.” Harriet looked at the man who had accompanied her to the Bar C. Though Lawrence Wood kept his eyes fixed on Zach, Harriet suspected the heightened color in his cheeks was caused by Priscilla’s beauty. Harriet couldn’t blame him for being entranced.

“Lawrence,” he said, correcting Harriet’s formality.

“I don’t care what they call you,” Zach Webster announced as he clapped Lawrence on the back. “I’m glad you’re here tonight. We need to talk about the rustlers.”

The former Ranger’s expression sobered. “Did you lose more cattle?” The answer was muffled as Lawrence and Zach headed to the far corner of the room.

“Men!” The moue Priscilla made only emphasized her beauty. “All they want to talk about is business.”

“Whereas we women have more important things to discuss—like fashion.” Sarah rejoined them. “Our mercantile has some lovely yard goods and the latest designs,” Sarah added.

“Does the mercantile also carry school supplies?” Fashion was not Harriet’s topic of choice. Her clothing and her siblings’ were serviceable. If they weren’t dressed in the current style, well . . . it wasn’t as if she were trying to attract a husband. She wasn’t like Mr. Thackeray’s Becky Sharp.

Almost as if she’d read Harriet’s thoughts about
Vanity Fair
, Sarah shook her head, but her words revealed that she was responding to Harriet’s question, not her musings. “You don’t need to worry about supplies. The school is well provisioned.” Sarah looked down at the evidence of the baby she carried beneath her heart. “If this one doesn’t keep me awake all night, I’ll meet you at the school tomorrow morning. Now, it’s time to eat.”

The meal was an enjoyable one, with tasty food and pleasant conversation. Harriet found herself seated between Karl and Lawrence, both of whom kept her engaged in conversation. It was only during the lulls that Harriet noticed how studiously Lawrence avoided looking at Priscilla, who was seated on his other side, and how stilted his responses to her questions were. Unaffected by whatever was causing the constraint between Lawrence and Priscilla, Mary and little Thea chattered at their corner of the table, apparently speaking to Clay’s father, who was confined to a wheeled chair and said even less than Ruth.

“So, tell me what brought you to Ladreville.” Priscilla leaned forward ever so slightly to address Harriet.

“I thought everyone knew. I answered Michel Ladre’s advertisement.”

Priscilla wrinkled her nose. “I knew that. I was simply curious why you wanted to move so far from your home.”

Harriet took a sip of water as she tried to phrase her reply. “I wanted a better future for my family.” A future where Ruth could overcome her shyness, where Mary had friends, where Daniel and Sam could grow into men, and where Jake would not be tempted to break the law. “There was nothing tying us to Fortune, and Michel Ladre made Ladreville sound very appealing.”

That was enough about her family. Harriet looked around the table. “I can guess when the Friedrichs arrived, but what about the rest of you? Have you lived here all your lives?”

Laughter greeted her words. Clay gave his wife a fond glance as he said, “I’m the only one who was born here, but I left, never intending to return. It took Pa’s illness to bring me back and the love of a good woman to keep me here.”

“I was a mail-order bride,” Sarah admitted.

Ruth sighed and spoke for the first time in a long while. “How romantic.”

Sarah’s smile faded. “Clay wasn’t my intended groom. It’s a long story.”

“Fortunately,” her husband said, “there’s a happy ending.”

“I came to help Clay’s father run the ranch,” Zach announced, “and wound up with a ranch of my own, not to mention the most beautiful bride in the state of Texas.”

“I was looking for adventure, never dreaming marriage would be the greatest adventure of all.” The smile Priscilla gave Zach was luminous.

Harriet smiled too, pleased at how she had diverted attention from herself and her family. Only one person had not joined the discussion. “What about you, Lawrence? What brought you to Ladreville?”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment Harriet thought he would refuse to answer. When he did, though his lips quirked in a smile, it did not reach his eyes. “I came to build a bridge.”

As the conversation turned to the merits of spanning the Medina, Harriet felt Lawrence relax. This man, she suspected, had as many secrets as she did. This was not the time to uncover them. Instead, she shot a warning glance at her brothers, who had started to fidget.

As if he realized how boring bridge construction might be to young boys, Karl asked what they planned to do for the three weeks until school started.

“Harriet says we need to work,” Daniel announced. “We all have to earn money.”

“And what would you do to earn money?” Karl asked, stroking his beard again. It was, Harriet had come to believe, an unconscious gesture he made when he was pondering something.

“Play with the goats.”

The snicker had come from Lawrence. Harriet glared at him, then turned back to Karl, who was regarding Daniel with apparent seriousness. He, at least, understood children. “Well, son,” Karl said, “I’m afraid I don’t have any goats, but I could use a few strong boys to help with the crops.” He looked at Harriet. “I can’t pay them a lot, but they’d be welcome to have dinner with us. That would save you having to cook for them.”

“That would be fine.” The truth was, even though she’d told the others it was important to earn money, Harriet’s pay would cover their expenses. What she wanted was to ensure that her siblings’ time was gainfully occupied and that they learned the lessons of hard work. This was the start of a new life for all of them, and she intended that life to have a firm foundation. “How soon would you like them to start? Tomorrow?”

Jake groaned.

“He’s in love with her.”

Harriet continued to draw the brush through her sister’s hair in the nightly ritual they’d begun so many years ago. First Harriet would brush and braid Ruth’s hair; then her sister would return the favor. “Which story are you reading now?” In the last year, Ruth had begun to share Harriet’s fascination with books, and the sisters frequently spent a few minutes each evening discussing whatever Ruth had read.

Ruth started to shake her head, then appeared to think the better of it, since Harriet still wielded the brush. “It’s not a story. Mr. Wood is in love with Priscilla. Didn’t you see the way he wouldn’t look at her? He’s love struck, just like in the books.”

“Nonsense.” While it was true Harriet had noticed Lawrence’s apparent discomfort, she didn’t want to admit she had considered her sister’s explanation. “It’s more likely they had some kind of disagreement. Besides, Priscilla is married.”

“That never stopped true love. Think about Lancelot and Guinevere.”

Harriet began to braid her sister’s hair. “You think about them,” she said more tartly than she had intended. “I’ve got lessons to plan.” The last thing she needed was to think about Lawrence Wood and unrequited love.

She was still telling herself that an hour later as she slid between the sheets. Why then did she keep picturing a tall blond man with deep blue eyes? It was nonsense. Pure and utter nonsense.

3

It was totally absurd. Lawrence ran his shaving brush through the lather. There was no reason he should have dreamt of her and absolutely no reason his waking thoughts should drift to her so often. He picked up his razor, frowning when he recalled the way his Bible had fallen open to the second chapter of Genesis. It never opened at the beginning, and yet the first verse his eyes had seen this morning was Genesis 2:24: “Therefore shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall cleave unto his wife.” Absurd. Oh, not the idea of marriage. At one time he’d thought Priscilla was the woman God had chosen for him, but he’d soon realized that what he’d felt was mere infatuation coupled with the desire to protect her. Knowing how foolish he’d once been made being near Priscilla downright awkward. That was why he’d avoided her since he’d returned to Ladreville after resigning from the Rangers. Unfortunately, there’d been no way to refuse Sarah’s invitation. Why on earth had the woman placed them next to each other? Though he knew she hadn’t intended it, Sarah’s seating arrangement had turned last night into one of the most uncomfortable evenings Lawrence could remember, almost as uncomfortable as some of the times he’d spent with his sister.

“You see yourself as one of those knights in shining armor,” Lottie had announced when he’d told her he was leaving the Rangers. He couldn’t recall what his sister had asked, but somehow he’d found himself speaking of Priscilla. “You want to help everyone. That’s all right, Lawrence, but don’t confuse concern with love. They’re not the same.” Lottie, who’d been happily married for fifteen years, considered herself an expert on the subject of love.

Lawrence knew he was not. He was an expert at apprehending criminals. That’s why he was here. It was true he’d wanted to leave the Rangers and settle down, but he had not wanted the settling down to be in Ladreville. What man would willingly return to the place where he’d made a fool of himself? But the prodding had been clear. He’d felt it deep inside himself, and though he’d prayed and prayed, God’s answer remained constant: go to Ladreville.

Lawrence had listened to his Lord. He’d signed a six-month contract to serve as Ladreville’s mayor and sheriff, and he’d do his best to bring honor to those offices. But marriage? That was not part of his plan. So why had he been drawn to Genesis this morning and why did images of Ladreville’s new schoolmarm keep flitting through his mind? There had to be a logical reason.

Perhaps it was because Miss Harriet Kirk was unlike any woman he’d met. It started with the fact that Lawrence had never seen a woman care so little about her appearance. She wasn’t as beautiful as Priscilla—no one could be—but she would be downright pretty if she took a few more pains. You didn’t have to be a fashion expert to notice that Harriet’s dress was even dowdier than Frau Friedrich’s. As for color, his sister Lottie could spend hours expounding on the proper colors a blonde should wear, and yellow was not one of them.

Lawrence stared into the mirror as he wielded the razor. The last thing he needed was to nick his throat.

He could almost understand why Harriet had been wearing that mousy brown suit for traveling. Though undeniably ugly, it was probably practical. But why had she exchanged the ugly suit for a dress of a particularly putrid shade of yellow? Didn’t she know that the color made her look sallow? Lottie had refused to wear anything yellow, and she’d appeared appalled when she’d seen Lawrence in buckskins, announcing that they did not flatter him. As if he cared! The problem with buckskin was that when wet, it stretched and could only be described as slimy. Then, when it dried, it shrank, becoming even more uncomfortable. That was the reason—the only reason—he no longer wore buckskin. It had nothing to do with flattering colors or anything related to vanity.

Unlike other women, Miss Kirk did not appear to possess a bit of vanity. But she possessed many other things, not the least of which was a tart tongue that she made no attempt to tame.

Lawrence frowned as he considered his reflection. He’d missed a spot. He picked up the razor again and removed the offending whiskers before he rinsed his face. He reckoned it was difficult having the care of five children, but it seemed no one had taught Miss Kirk that honey caught flies. She hadn’t minced her words about anything, from her disapproval of her brothers’ behavior to her admiration for Mrs. Stowe’s
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
.

He couldn’t disagree with her opinion of the boys. They were unruly. But there was no reason to have been so passionate about the book. She claimed to have been born in Texas. If so, surely she knew this was a slave-owning state and that espousing abolitionist ideas was not the best way to gain the townspeople’s confidence. While it was true that no one in Ladreville owned slaves and that there had been no slaves in the Old Country, the residents were Texans now, and Texans did not appreciate the government telling them what they could or could not do. Someone ought to explain that to her, but it wouldn’t be him. No, sirree.

Harriet Kirk was like a gnat, small, constantly buzzing around, annoying as could be. That must be why he kept thinking about her. It couldn’t be anything else.

Harriet walked around the school, considering it from every angle. It appeared well built and generously proportioned. The location was convenient, at least for her, for it had taken less than five minutes to walk here. She drew in a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air as she gazed at the grounds. The town had chosen an excellent site. Not only did the schoolyard possess a large open field that would be ideal for playing tag, but it boasted several huge live oak trees. It wouldn’t be difficult to hang a couple swings from those spreading branches. Best of all, the grounds fronted the river. When spring came, the children could search for minnows and tadpoles. They would consider it an adventure, not realizing that the tiny creatures would be part of a science lesson.

Harriet returned to the front and looked at the building again. It would be perfect, if only it were stone.
There will be no cheroots here. No one will be sleeping. There’s no danger.
Though her brain formed the thoughts, her heart did not accept them, and she shivered. When she heard the sound of an approaching horse and buggy, she turned, grateful for the distraction.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Sarah said as she dismounted and tied the horse to the hitching post. She looked down at her abdomen. “The little one kept me awake most of the night. I wish I could teach him . . .” She smiled as she explained, “Clay’s convinced we’re having a boy. Anyway, I wish I could convince the baby to sleep when I do, but Priscilla says that’s unlikely.”

Harriet raised an eyebrow, wondering how Priscilla Webster had become an expert on pregnancy. “Does Priscilla have children? I thought she and Zach were recently wed.”

“That’s true. She has no children yet, but she’s Ladreville’s midwife.” Sarah shook her head in mock dismay. “I don’t suppose Lawrence mentioned that. Men get embarrassed by things like childbirth.”

Harriet doubted that anything would embarrass Lawrence Wood. The man was confidence incarnate. “He said that the town’s doctor and midwife lived on your side of the river, but he didn’t name them.”

“What a terrible hostess I was! I didn’t think to tell you that Clay’s a doctor and Priscilla serves as our midwife. Now, let’s go inside and see what you think of the school.” Sarah climbed the steps and started to open the door.

“Wait for me!”

Harriet turned to see a brunette who was almost as short as she rushing toward the school. Young and pretty with warm brown eyes, she had an engaging smile and a dress that Harriet guessed was the latest fashion. It must be new, for Harriet had never before seen three-quarter-length bell-shaped sleeves over lace-trimmed undersleeves.

Sarah’s smile of familiarity told Harriet that the newcomer was her friend. “This is Isabelle Rousseau. Sorry,” Sarah corrected herself quickly. “This is Isabelle Lehman. She married the town’s miller two weeks ago, and I keep forgetting her new name.” She turned to her friend, continuing the introductions.

Isabelle directed her smile at Harriet. “As you might imagine, the grapevine has been buzzing with the news of your arrival. Everyone wants to meet you, and Eva—she’s my stepdaughter—could hardly sleep for excitement when she heard you had a young sister. She’s hoping for a playmate.” Isabelle took a shallow breath before adding, “Eva’s seven.”

The woman’s enthusiasm was contagious. “That sounds perfect. Mary’s eight and always complaining about being the youngest in the family, so I’m sure she’ll be thrilled that Eva’s a bit younger.” And if it worked out, one of Harriet’s hopes in coming to Ladreville would be realized: Mary would have friends.

“What do you think?” Sarah opened the door and ushered Harriet into the schoolhouse.

Though musty from having been closed, the school was even more appealing than its exterior promised. With room for thirty students, a large chalkboard, and a good-sized desk for the teacher, it was well appointed. The side walls each boasted a window, but Harriet noted with approval that the windows were positioned high enough to discourage excessive daydreaming, and the cloakroom wall blocked the view of the door. Apparently the school’s designer understood how easily children were distracted. There was only one flaw, but there was no point in mentioning it. Instead, Harriet forced her lips into a smile and said, “This is the nicest school I’ve seen.”

“You look as if something’s wrong.” Furrows formed between Isabelle’s eyes.

Harriet frowned at the realization that she had not hidden her concern. There was no point in lying. “I wish the building were stone or brick.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Why? Are you worried about fire?”

Harriet nodded. The story would come out at some point. She might as well tell these women. “My parents died when our house burned. I’ve worried about fire ever since.”

Sarah slid an arm around Harriet’s waist and hugged her. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t fire, but I lost my parents as well.”

“It’s been seven years.” Harriet wouldn’t tell either Sarah or Isabelle about the years before the fire, her parents’ erratic behavior and the nights she had prayed they would leave and never return. She doubted either woman would understand, and she had no need of pity.

“I feel so fortunate, because my parents are still alive,” Isabelle said. “I don’t know whether you’ve had a chance to explore Ladreville, but they own the mercantile. We’ve got most anything you might need there.”

Taking in a deep breath of air that still smelled of chalk, Harriet seized the change of subject gratefully. “I do need some new clothing for my family. Ruth’s stopped growing, but the boys and Mary shoot up faster than thistles.”

“We can help with that.” Isabelle started to list the types of ready-made clothing that the mercantile carried.

As if she realized that her friend could continue indefinitely, Sarah interrupted. “You might want something new for yourself.”

Though Isabelle nodded, Harriet did not. What she had was perfectly serviceable. Besides, it wasn’t as if she wanted to waste money on frippery. Even when her grandparents had been alive and the Kirks were the wealthiest family in Fortune, Grandma had insisted on sensible clothing, claiming it was important that people liked them for their character, not their money. “I have plenty of dresses,” Harriet said firmly. “It’s the children I worry about.”

Isabelle was not dissuaded. “We have lovely yard goods. There’s a light blue muslin that would highlight your eyes.”

Though she wanted to insist that she didn’t need to highlight her eyes, Harriet remained silent. The women meant well. They simply didn’t understand.

“Isabelle’s the town’s expert on fashion,” Sarah said. “She won’t steer you wrong.”

She wouldn’t, indeed, because there would be no steering, not toward light blue muslin, not toward anything. “Thank you, both,” Harriet said as politely as she could manage, “but I’m content with the dresses I have. They’re suitable for teaching.”

“Certainly.” The look Sarah gave Isabelle said the discussion was closed. “Is there anything else I can show you here?” She gestured around the room. When Harriet shook her head, Sarah announced that she would head home. “I seem to tire more easily these days.”

As they waved good-bye to Sarah, Isabelle touched Harriet’s arm. “Do you mind if I walk home with you? I want to invite your sister to meet Eva.”

“No, I don’t mind; I’d enjoy the company.” At home in Fortune, she had been careful to keep her relationships purely businesslike. Grandma had insisted that, as the founding family, the Kirks were Fortune’s upper class and should not associate with what Grandma called the “common folks.” It was only when she’d become an adult that Harriet had realized that while Grandma’s attitude might have been appropriate in her native England, it was the antithesis of the American dream and it had led to the Kirks’ isolation. Her resolution that they would not make the same mistakes here in Ladreville was part of the reason Harriet insisted that everyone work. It was also the reason she sought friends for her siblings. And herself. Mary wasn’t the only one who needed friends.