A Chance at Love

  A puzzled Jake asked, “What?”

  “You’re getting married on Saturday, remember?”

  Suddenly remembering that to be true, Jake dropped his head with amused embarrassment.

  As the men laughed, and those unaware of Jake’s upcoming nuptials offered congratulations, Art added, “I don’t think Loreli’s gonna want us hanging around.”

  Jake grinned. “You’re right, Art. Thanks. How about we meet in two weeks, then?”

  Everyone thought that a better plan.

  “Meeting adjourned,” Jake then declared.

  Paul Fletcher practically ran from the barn. The others shook their heads.

  After his departure, Jake told the rest of the men, “I’d hoped tonight’s meeting would help us determine which of our members were weak and which strong.”

  Matt Peterson cracked, “Guess you got your answer.”

  Jake nodded. “I did, so since we all know Paul’s not going to join us, I can now tell you the truth. Sometime around mid-August, a man from the Knights of Labor will be coming down to initiate us.”

  You could hear a pin drop as the five men stiffened with surprise. They all turned Jake’s way and stared.

  Jake confessed, “I lied about not having been contacted earlier because I wasn’t sure where everyone stood.”

  Barber chuckled and shook his head knowingly. “You always were the cleverest one around, even as a boy.”

  Jake had known Brass Barber most of his life. He accepted the compliment with a smile. “Thanks.”

  “So, what do we have to do to prepare?” Art asked.

  “I’ll let you know when we meet again in two weeks.”

  Wayne Young said, “I hear they have a secret ceremony. That true?”

  Jake didn’t reply.

  The men noted Jake’s stance and Barber quipped, “Jake’s always been a sphinx when need be too.”

  The men laughed. They gave their good-nights and headed for their wagons. Art was the last to leave. He and Jake stood outside the barn, watching the late evening settle in.

  “Fletcher’s going to run right to Diggs,” Art said knowingly.

  “He won’t have much to tell, other than the news that we’re pooling our crops.”

  Art thought about it a moment. “I suppose you’re right. We didn’t make any ironclad plans or discuss any strategies.”

  “Correct. So Fletcher knows nothing.”

  Art smiled. “You’re always thinking, Jake. Guess that’s why you’re our leader.”

  Jake looked toward the house and saw Loreli and the girls set off for a stroll. Loreli had changed out of that stunning yellow dress and into a plain brown skirt and blouse.

  Art turned to see what had drawn Jake’s attention, then smiled. “That’s some woman, Jake. How’d you manage to land her?”

  “I didn’t. The girls did.”

  He then told Arthur the story. All of it.

  When Jake was done with the telling, Art could only stare, then upon finding his voice said, “And she agreed to marry you?”

  “Yep, and in the meantime, I’ll look for somebody else.”

  “Why not ask her to stay? You two seem to get along.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look at her, Art. Do you think a woman like that is going to want to spend the rest of her life smelling hogs?”

  Art sighed his surrender. “You do have a point.”

  “Even if I could convince her to stay, she wouldn’t be happy. She’s a city woman. She can’t even cook, for heaven’s sake.”

  “She’s beautiful, though.”

  “No denying that,” Jake agreed, his tone admiring. “Will you stand up with me at the wedding?”

  “Sure.” Art then peered over at his old friend Jake, and as men often do, asked, “Well, have you and her—”

  Jake didn’t even look at him. “Shut up, Art. That’s none of your business.”

  Art showed his palms in surrender. “Sorry. Just curious.”

  Jake turned to him finally and his mustache lifted with amusement. “Go home. Denise is probably waiting.”

  Art tossed back, “Nothing like having your own personal, willing woman waiting, Jake. You should try it.”

  Jake chuckled. “Go home, you ox.”

  Art headed toward his wagon and waved good-bye.

  After hearing the girls’ prayers and kissing them good-night, Loreli and Jake stepped out onto the porch. The sun was going down, and Loreli was once again transfixed by its fiery red beauty. “I love your sunsets, Jake.”

  Jake thought the beauty of the sunset pale in comparison to the fiery sapphire woman standing on his porch.

  “How’d your meeting go?”

  “Not bad. I think we lost one person tonight, though.”

  “Is that good or bad?” she asked.

  “Good probably. He’s a friend of Diggs.”

  “Ah,” she voiced, then directed her attention back to the sunset.

  Jake ran his eyes over the slope of her shoulders and down the curves of her waist and hips. His vow to stay away from her until the wedding night rose up to taunt him mightily. He wanted to touch her so badly, his heart was pounding, his hands ached. Remembering Art’s comments about willing, waiting women taunted him also. Jake had to dig deep into his will not to go to her side, but in the end, desire won out. He walked up behind her, and after lightly placing his hands on her shoulders, slowly stroked her arms up and down. Leaning toward her, he fervently brushed his lips across the back of her neck, whispering, “I have to touch you…”

  Loreli melted back against his hard frame as naturally as if they’d been doing this their entire lives. The hands moving ever so slowly over her arms were hot, gentle. She turned her head so their eyes could meet, then asked sultrily, playfully, “Have we been introduced?”

  His lips against her ear, his hands still savoring the soft, warm flesh of her arms, Jake breathed, “I believe we have. I’m the one taking the lessons…”

  Loreli’s amusement mingled with her rising reaction to his hands and lips. She husked out, “I remember you now.”

  “Good, wouldn’t want you to forget me.”

  She turned to face him and her golden eyes were suddenly serious. “There’s no chance of that.”

  Her answer pleased him, and he reached out and ran his finger down her silken cheek. “I’m glad.”

  Entranced, Jake slowly moved his finger to trace her parted lips. He wanted this woman so very much. “I’m not supposed to be doing this, am I?”

  Her reply was a whisper, “No.”

  He bent down and kissed her so passionately and thoroughly, Loreli melted right there on the spot.

  Her desire rising, eyes closed, Loreli purred, “You must be trying to get promoted.”

  “And, go to the head of the class…” Jake’s manhood, aroused and ready, demanded he do something about the passionate ache she caused, but he’d made a vow. “But not tonight. Tonight, I have to say—good night, Loreli.”

  Loreli tried to think of something that might make him stay. She didn’t want him to go. “Sit and talk with me a while. You don’t have to run off.”

  Even as Jake yearned to pull her into his arms, he knew he had to leave her. “If I stay, we won’t be talking.”

  She studied him, then said seriously, “I’m willing.”

  “I know, but a man should stand by his words.”

  Loreli wanted to make love until the sun rose, and he did too; she could see it in his dark eyes, feel it in his touch, and hear it in the timbre of his voice. However, he seemed to be ruled by something more noble than lust, and she had to respect him for that reason. “Then go on to bed. I won’t tempt you.”

  “Just looking at you tempts me,” he confessed, taking in her face and form. Jake thought about the men in her past. Had they too been as bewitched by all that she was? He quickly set aside thoughts of the others; he didn’t want their ghosts looming over the short time he’
d have with her. He bent to touch his lips to hers. “Good night,” he whispered.

  Loreli reached up and stroked her finger against his firm jaw. “Good night.”

  And he was gone.

  That night, as darkness fell over the land, Loreli slept with such peace and contentment, she didn’t even notice the rock-hard bed.

  The next morning, after breakfast, Jake rode off to check on the health of Bert Green’s new foal while Loreli and the girls stayed behind; today was Monday, and Monday was washday.

  Dede, watching Loreli fill the big caldrons with water from the pump, asked, “But why is Monday always wash day, Loreli? Uncle Jake never washed on Mondays.”

  Loreli shrugged. “Well, your Uncle Jake’s not a woman, and in the woman’s rule book, Monday is always the day you wash.” Loreli was glad she had a vivid imagination. Coming up with answers to the dozens of questions the girls seemed to have every day often took honesty, ingenuity, and in some cases, downright guile. Of course there was no official woman’s rule book, but women had rules just the same, and the girls needed to know they existed even if the book was an imaginary one.

  While the water heated on the big grate in the pit behind the house, the girls took Loreli to meet all the animals. Bebe pointed to a big brown hen, who at their approach raised her head to eye Loreli sharply. “That’s Suzie. She’s the boss hen.”

  Dede added, “She even bosses Uncle Jake.”

  Loreli eyed the hen. The hen continued to fix Loreli with her stare. “She looks pretty mean.”

  “She is, but not to us,” Bebe said easily.

  They then pointed out the other three hens: Babe, Peg and Myrtle.

  “That’s Mr. Cook up on the roof of the barn.”

  Loreli looked up and saw a rooster seated on the roof. “What’s he doing up there?”

  “Suzie doesn’t like him, so he stays up there so she won’t peck him.”

  Loreli looked back at Suzie, who was still eyeing Loreli malevolently. Loreli made a point to stay out of Suzie’s way. “Why is the rooster’s name Mr. Cook?”

  “That’s who Uncle Jake got him from.”

  “Ah, I see,” Loreli said.

  They passed the large and smelly hog pens with its fat, slow-moving hogs.

  Bebe informed them, “Some of the hogs are mean, ’specially when there’s piglets. Uncle won’t let us come here when there’s piglets.”

  A wary Loreli asked, “Are there piglets now?”

  “Nope.”

  Loreli thought that good news. Some of the hogs were as big around as a large tree trunk. She certainly wouldn’t want to have a confrontation with them. If the smell didn’t kill you, the solid weight of one falling on you would.

  The girls showed her the ducks and their downy ducklings. She met Emily the sleek, gray mouser, and her brood of new kittens. The girls then took her to greet the two dogs that Loreli had previously seen prowling the property like lawmen. Bebe knelt beside one dog whose black wolf-like appearance made Loreli a bit nervous. Bebe rubbed him lovingly, and the dog turned his head and dragged his large tongue across her face. She squealed with delight. She hastily wiped her hands across her face. Dede giggled.

  Bebe said to Loreli, “This is Pal. His mama was a wolf, but she died in a trap. Uncle found Pal and brought him home.”

  “Curl up your fingers, Loreli, and let him sniff your hand,” Dede then told Loreli. “That way he’ll know you live here.”

  A bit apprehensive because the black dog was so big, Loreli came forward anyway and held out her hand. The dog ran his nose over her balled fist, then looked up at her.

  Dede commanded gently, “Say hi, Pal.”

  The dog barked. Loreli laughed and reached down to pet him. She could feel the strong muscles beneath his black coat. “Hello, Pal.”

  Loreli and the girls spent a few moments with the fierce-looking Pal, then it was time to meet the sheepdog, Rabbit. The gray in his coat and the age in his eyes made Loreli believe Rabbit was much older than Pal. Mimicking the same actions she’d used to introduce herself to Pal, Loreli let Rabbit sniff her hand. While the dog took in her scent and the girls stroked him, Loreli asked, “Why is he called Rabbit?”

  The kneeling Bebe hugged the dog close. “It’s because he’s scared of rabbits.”

  A surprised Loreli had never heard of such a thing.

  Bebe said, “Uncle Jake has had Rabbit a long time.”

  Dede stroked the old dog’s back. “Uncle Jake said the man who owned Rabbit was going to shoot Rabbit because Rabbit was scared of everything, but Uncle Jake took him home.”

  Loreli thought Uncle Jake had a very kind and generous heart. “So, is Rabbit scared of everything around here too?”

  “Pretty much. He’s even scared of his own shadow, but we love him anyway.”

  Loreli stroked the old back one final time, then she and the girls moved on. Loreli could see the goat kid tied to a corner of the horse paddock. The first time she’d noticed the animal had been on a previous visit. At that time the young goat was being harassed by a pair of geese. Today there were no geese to be seen. “Why’s that goat over there by himself.”

  Dede corrected her. “It’s a she. Her name’s Elvira.”

  “She sick?”

  “No,” Bebe said. “She bites. Mrs. Mitchell, her owner, says that dumb old goat will bite anything and anyone.”

  Loreli chuckled. “Really?”

  Bebe nodded. “Yep. After she tried to bite me and De, Uncle Jake tied her up over there.”

  “Does your uncle or Mrs. Mitchell know why Elvira likes to bite?”

  “Elvira thinks she’s a dog,” Dede said sagely.

  Loreli’s shoulders shook with humor. “A dog!”

  “Yep. That’s what Mrs. Mitchell said.”

  “What’d your uncle say?”

  “The same thing,” Bebe replied.

  An amused Loreli shook her head. A sheepdog scared of his own shadow, and a goat named Elvira who thought she was a dog. Jake Reed had quite a menagerie.

  When they all walked back across the yard to where the caldrons of water were heating, the water was hot, so they began the day’s big chore.

  Washing was hot, grueling work, especially on such a humid day. Loreli, wearing an old tan blouse and dark flowing skirt was wet from her breasts to her thighs, mostly from the washboard and the wringer, but also from sweat. Her life, and more recently, the rigors of the wagon train had taught her not to be ashamed to do a hard day’s work, or be ashamed of her own perspiration. And washing was just that—hard work. Whether it was the flesh-stinging, skin-chaffing lye water the clothes were washed in, or the struggle hanging sheets and other large items on the clothesline, it wasn’t easy.

  By midafternoon, they were done. Hot, wet, and sticky, she and the girls looked over the lines of clothes drying in the sun, and Loreli felt a real sense of accomplishment. She knew it was only wash to the girls; she’d even had to fuss at them a few times in order to keep them on task, but for her, the new mama, washday represented her first real task. She was proud it had been done well. “Thanks for your help, girls.”

  Bebe groused, “Are we going to have to do this every Monday?”

  Loreli told her plainly, “Yes.” Then she asked the twins, “You’ve never helped with the wash before?”

  “No.”

  Dede chimed in, “Sometimes. Rebecca did our wash. She said we only got in the way.”

  Knowing the girls a bit better now, Loreli wondered if they had made themselves unwanted on purpose. At eight years old, Loreli knew she wouldn’t have wanted to be toiling over a wooden scrubboard, wrist-deep in hot water that burned her hands. Children were children and they didn’t like to work, at least not for a long span of time; however, Loreli planned on having them assist her every Monday. A bit of hard work never harmed anyone, least of all two healthy eight-year-old girls.

  Chapter 12

  Bert Green’s new foal, Sunshine, appeared to be thriving. Its dark
coat was sleek and shiny, and although the filly’s spindly legs looked as delicate as twigs as it ran back and forth around its mother, the foal was healthy and strong.

  Jake folded up his bag and stood. Bert Green was in town running his store, so his wife, Belinda, stood watching from a spot outside the paddock. “Sunshine okay?” Belinda asked as Jake left the paddock and slid the bolt on the wooden gate.

  “She’s doing just fine.”

  Belinda and Bert had been married for fifteen years. She was as thin and tall as her husband was short and round. Smiling, she said to him, “Don’t know what folks ’round here would do without you, Jake.”

  “Just helping out my neighbors. That’s all.”

  “Well, we do appreciate it.”

  Jake didn’t care to acknowledge the effect his physique and face seemed to have on some women, but ladies like Belinda Green always made a point of reminding him by shamelessly flirting with him at every opportunity. Today she had a light in her eyes she probably hadn’t shown her husband in years, if ever.

  Her voice throaty, she asked, “Would you like some coffee? Got some fresh on the stove, inside.”

  Jake ignored the emphasis she’d placed on the word inside. “No thanks. I have a few more stops to make this morning.”

  Jake began walking back to where he tied up Fox. The sooner he got away from Belinda the better.

  Belinda fell in beside him. Her long legs beneath her pink and brown calico dress easily matched his own. “What’s this I hear about you marrying up?”

  Jake untied Fox. “Saturday.” He hitched himself up onto the stallion’s saddle.

  Belinda looked up. “Lot of women around here disappointed at that news, Jake Reed.”

  “Don’t know why,” he replied. “Most of the women around here are already married. Those that aren’t, we don’t suit.”

  “Well, when the gambler woman breaks your heart and you need a soft shoulder, I’m here.”

  Jake ignored that too. Bringing Fox around, Jake rode away from Belinda Green.

  On his way back home, Jake stopped in to check on: a sick lamb, a dog accidentally shot by his drunken owner who mistook the domesticated canine for a wolf, a sow that wouldn’t eat, and a mule with an infected hoof. Jake treated them all to the best of his ability, and in exchange received: a jug of apple cider, two wild turkeys, and a grouse. Very few of the farmers had cash to spare, so they paid him with whatever they could, however they could. Jake graciously accepted it all as payment in full.