RUNNING AWAY IN PLACE
By Celia Jolley
"I have written unto you,
young men, because ye are strong,
and the word of God abideth in you,
and ye have overcome the wicked one."
I John 2:14
Sometimes all Anya could think about was running away. But where was she to go? As a young woman, unlike a man, she could not go off to seek her fortune. Her whole life depended upon her finding a young man who would steer her life. However since the war stripped their community of so many fine young men, the pickin's were slim to none. Anya sighed and tried not to spill any of the milk on her crooked walk toting a heavy pail towards her house.
"I brought the milk, ma. Do you want me to pour it into the churn now?"
Her weary mother turned from the pot she was stirring to offer up a meager smile. "Thank you, sweetheart. Yes, please. Just bring me the empty pail and I'll wash it."
Anya poured the creamy milk into the churn careful not to spill any. What they did not eat, they could sell. Then she put the dasher in and began the business of making butter. Standing in the shade of the porch with a view of the trees lining the creek bending to the will of the wind, she allowed her soul to be refreshed while at her mindless chore. She quoted the first Psalm,
"And he shall be like a tree
planted by rivers of water,
That bringing forth his fruit in his season..."
With every thrust of the dasher into the thickening butter, she repeated the words in a steady rhythm. It was just as her mother had always done, except unlike her, Anya changed it to fit herself.
"She shall be like a tree
planted by rivers of water."
Anya felt it well. She was indeed firmly planted no matter that at times she longed to run away. Ever since her pa had died, and her brother had gone off to war, her home felt fractured and fragile. Anya at times was forced to be strapped to the plow and sometimes had to swing the scythe. Someone had to do it, and her ma was too frail and her little sister was, well, little. Her mother sadly felt the need to marry in order to have a man around the house, a man to lift the heavy work off Anya's shoulders.
Shortly after, it had been an immense shock and relief when her brother came limping home. However, it was a surprise to them all that he, who had been assumed dead, brought a wife along, one who was with child.
"When I was wounded, her family took us injured into their farmhouse. It was then I noticed I was being treated with special care by loving hands. As soon as I was able, we were married. Now that I'm stronger, I decided it was high time we came home." Danny turned to his wife, and the way they looked at each other was as if no one else was in the room.
Her mother was ecstatic. They all were. Her son was home, limping, but alive with all his limbs spared even. However, it was uncomfortably awkward when their little farmhouse became as crowded as a fat sow with a huge litter of piglets, especially since their mother had just wed. The letter they had rejoiced over that her brother was indeed alive came a week after their mother had promised herself to Mr. Brown.
Like everyone else, Anya knew it was a marriage of convenience, desperate as they all were to keep the farm running. Their neighbor Mr. Brown likewise was in dire need as his house had burned to the ground the prior month. Sadly he'd lost his wife and small son in the fire, but his surviving daughter Ellen was the same age as her little sister Etta. Now her mother, sister and herself were joined by her brother and his expectant wife, with the addition of Mr. Brown and his child. Anya gave up her room and was squeezed into the loft with the two little girls. No wonder it was strained to all be under one roof adjusting to each other.
One evening her brother cleared his throat after supper was almost done and said, "Ma, Mr. Brown, Elizabeth and I have decided to build our own small house on the property along the creek, though I doubt I'll have much time before harvest."
Mr. Brown took another huge bite then spoke with his mouth full. It shocked them all, none more than their mother, when he announced, "Nah, I've decided it would be best if we leave you two the homeplace. I've sold my burnt fields to Mr. Potter. I'm going west." At their mother's gasp, he added, "I mean, we're going west, Mrs. Brown and our two little gals. Miss Anya can decide what she wants to do, to go or stay, makes no difference to me. How-some-ever, it might get a mite crowded with all of us in one wagon."
There was a terrible silence except for the sound of Mr. Brown scraping his fork and knife cutting his slice of ham, chewing, followed by the slurping of his coffee. It was then he looked over the cup at all the eyes staring at him, and he had the audacity to say, "What? Can't a man determine his own destiny. Clearly there's not enough here to sustain both our families. Besides, I'm just scratching the itch I've had e're since I wanted to join the '49ers of goin' to Californ-i-a. My last wife slapped me down, so I figured now's my chance."
Her mother shed silent tears into her upturned apron with shoulders shaking. The two young girls squirmed nervously, while Anya felt sick to her stomach. Her family was being torn apart after finally being reunited. Right now she hated Mr. Brown for forcing her mother to move without so much as a "if you please."
As soon as that detestable man slunk off to eat his cobbler on the porch hoping to catch a cooling breeze, her brother put his hand on his mother's to stay her as she stood to clear the table. She sank back down like wet sand. Dan said quietly,"Ma, you can stay here. You don't have to leave with that man. You will always have a home with us. After all, you've only been married to him hardly more than a couple of weeks. Had he given you any notion of what he was planning when he proposed?"
Their mother had again hidden her face in her apron, but shook her head. Finally wiping her eyes she said in a broken voice, "No. I am dumbstruck. I had no idea whatsoever." Anya motioned to the two little girls to take their plates outside to eat their dessert on the porch steps.
"I mean it, Ma. You will always have a home here with us," Danny repeated quietly.
Their mother straightened, sat up, and looked at her grown children before saying, "No, I will honor my vows even if I am sorely grieved at the thought of leaving you, Dan and Elizabeth and the babe I shall never see." Her voice quavered, "Anya, you are of age and must make your own decision. If this journey is not what you desire, do not feel under any obligation to come with us." Her voice cracked. "I'll still have Etta with me." Then she went into her room and shut the door."
Her brother had tears in his eyes, as he asked, "Anya?"
She shook her head and whispered, "I don't know." Then she automatically began to clear the table. But Dan wasn't done yet.
"Sit." He spoke so only she could hear. "Anya, I fear for you to travel with that man. It is a wild land where he is going. I don't know if he would protect you."
"Ma is not strong, and Etta is so young. I have been taking care of them as best I could after Pa died, and you were gone. I don't know if I can trust him to look after them either."
Anya remembered how she had wished to run away, but right now oh how she longed to stay. Her heart was torn clear through. She put her head in her hands feeling despair. Elizabeth silently cleared the table and quietly washed the supper dishes. Anya finally sighed and sat up waving a fly away from her cobbler.
"What do you think, Dan?"
He drummed his fingers on the table. "I think Ma should have her marriage annulled but I can't force her. But I don't believe you should suffer because of her decision. Like she said, you must make your own choice, not for her, not even for Etta, but for you. Unless you see your future in California, stay here with us.
"Thank you, Dan." She swallowed down a lump. "It was so hard when we thought we had lost you, then it was the happiest I've ever been to have you return, with a wife even. Ma made a choice to do what she thought best to save the farm. But I feel horrible knowing she did it for me because it tore her up to see me trying to plow and swing the scythe. I can't put the blame on her. She had no way of knowing you were coming home to us. But now?" Then she almost spat as she whispered, "He's despicable! He's just a bully to make this decision without conferring with Ma. She's his wife, for land's sake!"
She almost bitterly laughed at the irony that now she was running away in place by staying here.
Much too soon, they were waving goodbye to their ma and little sister Etta. Anya refused to countenance that disgusting man and had not spoken to him again after she finally told her mother she was staying. With many tears, her ma agreed it was best. It was hardest to let go of her little sister, poor thing. At least she had a new step-sister. The girls were almost giddy to go. Mr. Brown snapped the whip over his team of oxen, never looking back.
Anya liked her new sister-in-law, but slipped away when she could to snatch an afternoon with her best friend, Jane. Jane had a way of calming her.
"I think every time you begin hurting missing your ma and sister, it's best to write them a letter."
"I miss her every moment. Sometimes it almost cripples me with worry."
"You know what I mean. It could be like a diary of sorts. There will be places along their trail where she can receive and send mail. It will make you feel like she is still close."
Anya could only offer a slight smile. "You are right. It's always better to stay busy when hurting, even by dipping into an ink well."
She helped to piece a quilt together for Jane. Anya was happy that her friend had caught the eye of Mr. Grayson. He had returned from the war missing an arm, but it did not hinder him from working in the post office. It mattered not to Jane either. She had always loved him, but not even Anya had known her friend's heart until recently. Mr. Grayson seemed surprised to receive Jane's attentions when she brought him a peach pie here or a jar of wild grape jelly there. When she stopped by to get her mail, they visited longer and longer each time until he asked to call on her.
Anya truly was happy for Jane. Yet, she felt like she was untethered. She was no longer at home in her home. It belonged, and rightly so, to her brother and his wife. Elizabeth was adding her touches to make it her own, new curtains and rugs here, new dishes there. Anya was glad, but at the same time it was like rubbing sandpaper on her heart. Then, her best friend Jane's every free minute was spent with Mr. Grayson, not her.
Anya went on many long walks alone along the creek when chores were done. In the evenings, she made herself scarce to give her brother and his wife privacy. They allowed her to move back to her own room, but once their child grew the room would be needed. She felt she was running in place, and it was exhausting.
On Sunday Anya looked over every eligible male forty and younger warming a pew, but none would suit. They no longer needed to be of a certain height or weight even. If they had straight teeth, or even had all their teeth, it was nice but not absolutely necessary. It would be hard to adjust to a man who could not read, but she could manage if she had to. It mattered not if they made a nest of bees swarm in her stomach causing her heart to hum, just so long as she didn't feel nauseated by their company. Having their own land or were just renting, it did not signify as long as they were willing to work hard.
Where she would draw the line was whether or not they were a Christian or whether or not they drank. She had seen too many homes ruined by drink: carousing, wives and children beaten and little ones left hungry while hard earned money went instead to buy a bottle instead of food.
The young man she had been partial to all through school never came home from the war. Not that she loved him, but was looking forward to getting reacquainted in case something sparked. It was not to be. Dan even confirmed it, having been in the same unit. He had been there praying and singing hymns as the fine young man lingered with camp fever until he breathed his last.
It wasn't that she wasn't comely. Many a second glance had proved that she was worth looking at. But a spinster she would be, evidently. Anya needed a job.
"I'm going to town to see if there is a letter. Do you have a shopping list, Elizabeth?"
"Oh, Anya, I'm afraid you set yourself up for disappointment still waiting for another letter. I'm just glad we received the one we did from your mother. Didn't she say that Mr. Brown frowned upon spending money on frivolities like letters?"
"Mother told me she had a little stashed away. She will manage somehow, of that I'm certain."
But Anya also wished to hear if there was work to be had for a single young woman, something she knew would be as scarce as a hen's tooth. Mrs. Scott was entrenched as the school's one teacher, so there was no opportunity there. Mrs. Pettigrew did not need another seamstress besides her two daughters in her shop. She needed something that would allow her to keep her decency and dignity.
The Red Rooster's Restaurant needed a waitress, but she would have to walk home after dark since they only had the one mule which was needed for field work, not one to ride. It was not a pleasant thought since no one had to tell her how dangerous that could be. Many men who survived the war came home so broken that they drowned their sorrows in the bar just down the street from where she would work. No, her brother would never allow it.
Feeling disheartened, she slowly kicked up dust walking to the post office hardly hoping for a letter. Mr. Grayson was quite pleasant these days since he'd begun courting Jane. He smiled as she walked in. "You have a letter, Miss Anya. Be assured I would gladly have brought it to you after I closed up shop knowing how eager you are to hear from your mother."
The relief was so immense, that she was tempted to cry. But somehow she'd managed to be polite and say, "Thank you, Mr. Grayson," before hurrying out to collapse under a shade tree. Anya held the letter in shaky hands. She sighed when she read that they had made it to Texas. Then...
"What! Oh, no!" She exclaimed not caring who heard her. Her mother was once again widowed! Mr. Brown was dead, killed by a rattler that had chosen his boot to sleep in. Now her mother and the young girls were stranded in Texas. Anya quickly read down a little further. Somehow her mother had found work as a cook on a ranch, and the wagon train went on without them. "Good," she grunted when she read how her mother was able to sell the oxen and wagon and various goods on which they survived until she had landed the job.
"I must go to her," Anya spoke aloud. Those passing curiously glanced her way. She stood up, brushed the dirt off her skirt and half ran, half walked until out of town. Then she sprinted home. Dan had just come in for his lunch. Elizabeth was sitting on his lap, and they were kissing, food forgotten.
"Anya?" Elizabeth jumped up turning scarlet while her brother chuckled. But Anya held up the letter.
"What has mother written? You look upset." He was becoming concerned looking at her determined expression. He knew something must have happened.
"He died. Mr. Brown is dead of snake bite."
"What!" Dan roared.
"Mother is working on a ranch in Texas as a cook. They are letting the girls stay with her as her helpers. She says it is a tremendous relief."
"Why did she not catch a train and come home?" he asked.
"I don't know. Mayhap there is not a train near there. Perhaps she is working to save money for all three of their tickets. It is a place I've never heard of. Sweet Briar, Texas. Have you heard of it? I must go to her and bring her home."
"Maybe you should write her first," Elizabeth suggested.
"She is my mother, and she is alone. I know Dan cannot go, but I am able," Anya said. "I have some egg money saved up, probably enough for a ticket."
"Are you sure that's safe to travel alone?" her brother asked. "Besides, the ranch may not be willing to have another female show up."
"I'll make them a few pies that might change their minds," she smiled with her chin up determined not to let her spirits flag. "However, you know as well as I that Mother is not strong enough to keep on by herself. It is something I must do."
"Are you planning to stay there or bring her home?" her brother asked.
"I'm not sure. At this point, I want to bring her home. I will write, however, as soon as I arrive and can assess her predicament."
Once on the train the next day, she waved out the window to Elizabeth and Dan. Thinking of riding the train was the same feeling she'd had when learning to swim, fearful but determined. As the behemoth stirred and churned down the tracks leaving a cloud of smoke with hot cinders in its wake, Anya clung white knuckled to the handles of her valise. Eventually, she began to slacken her hold and allowed the carpet bag to finally fall to her feet. Looking out her window, Anya was amazed at the speed they were traveling, almost as fast as when Jane's horse had once run away with her.
By the time the black iron beast became as dark as a tomb inside traveling into the night, Anya finally succumbed to sleep. She had given herself over to the lullaby of the rails. However, she woke suddenly when the whistle blew. The train slowed then came to a stop with a jerk making her bump her head on the seat in front of her. Anya sat up and wondered with alarm what had delayed them.
A tall cowboy strode quickly down the aisle with his spurs jingling and disappeared out the door of their car. When he returned, a whisper wove its wave through the passengers. It was only a cow upon the tracks that they'd hit, and the men pulled it off the tracks. When her eyes met the cowboy's in the dusky light of the moon, he dipped his hat to her and walked on leaving the smell of cinders and smoke behind in his wake. Anya was glad that he could not see her blush. She listened until his boots made no more sound. Once again the beast rose from its rest and ate up more tracks.
After rubbing the crick in her neck, she pulled her valise to the bench and leaned over on it, half sitting, half laying down not caring if it was inelegant or not. Creeping sleep did not come at once, but finally overtook her.
In the morning, she half stretched, trying not to catch the notice of the traveling salesman in his loud checkered suit across the aisle. Of all the nerve, he winked at her!
She stood and then carefully walked like a drunken man as she was forced to catch each seat back in order not to fall in disgrace. She quietly laughed inside thinking, "I truly am running away but can hardly stand, let alone run." Anya splashed some stale water on her face, then did the weaving train dance back to her seat. She turned her back to the bold salesman and watched the morning sun shine over the hill country highlighting its beauty. Fields of blue bonnets were everywhere.
Just as she was beginning to get unbearably hungry, having finished her own parcel of food long before, the train pulled to a more graceful stop. The uniformed man who had taken her ticket called out, "Fredricksburg." Then he politely told her this was her stop. "Ma'am, you'll have to rent a gig to go the rest of the way to your destination. It's still a piece further on."
"Thank you." She pinned up her hair, and gathered her valise in front of her to bump down the seats until she took his white gloved hand to assist her down the stairs to the platform. Anya was pretty sure she didn't have enough money to rent a gig, not a horse even, but she went to the train station and asked, "Do you know how I should get to the Weston Ranch outside of Sweet Briar?"
The station master chuckled, "You're in luck, ma'am, the owner is just about to disembark right over there. Ask him."
"Me? Ask him?"
He grinned, "Sure thing, missy. We aren't back East where a lady has to wait to be introduced to a gentleman. We survive on grit, so you best hurry up and catch him now."
Anya looked behind her to see the man swing down and step onto the platform with his bag on his other shoulder. With a deep breath, she did indeed hurry to catch up with him.
"Excuse me, sir, but..." The man stopped and looked down with utter surprise at her hand on his arm that she did not realize she had put there. "So sorry, I didn't mean..."
"Yes, miss? Can I help you?" He speared her with the impatience of a man busy about his business. In the daylight, his eyes revealed a blue as bright as the Texas sky. She stepped back. This time he surely would see her blush.
"What I do mean, sir, is that I need a ride to your ranch."
As his unbelieving look turned into a stern glare, she hardly dared to go on. But necessity drove her beyond politeness. "I understand that my mother Mrs. Brown is the cook there."
"Your mother?" he said aghast. This time he swung his baggage down with a slam against the creaking wood of the platform. He looked downright angry. "Have you ever heard the saying, ma'am, too many cooks spoil the broth? How many females must we house just to get supper on one lonely table? Besides, I have too many heathen cowpokes on the ranch to corral just to add temptation on a platter with a pretty thing like you around. "You best get a room at the hotel, and I'll have your mother and sisters come visit you in town sometime later this week."
"Sir, I'm sorry, but I can't afford a night, let alone a week in a hotel to wait to see my mother. I must see what her circumstances are there on your ranch to know whether to help her or try to save enough money to bring us all home back to my brother's farm."
The man growled like a rabid dog. "How am I supposed to get you there, ma'am? I have only my horse, and I refuse to rent a wagon only to have to send it back tomorrow with one of my ranch hands. Waste of time and money."
He looked even more disgruntled than he sounded. Anya was beginning to fear for her mother and sisters if this was indicative of the man's character.
She threw her shoulders back, but refrained from stomping her best high-topped boot, like she wanted and said, "If you were a gentleman, you would take me to her without delay or any further disparagement."
The whole of his visage suddenly changed from one of disgust to one of humor, one she was sure would be at her expense.
"Oh, if I were a gentleman, is it? You doubt my southern manners, Missy-Must-Have-My-Own-Way?" He grinned wickedly, enough to make her almost cringe, at least enough to make her wilt in the heat of words. "Sure, lady, I'll take you to my ranch. Right this way." With that he shouldered his bag again, and Anya had to practically run to keep up with his swift strides back to the cattle cars where a man was leading out a gleaming specimen of a horse. Its light coat glistened in the sun as the beautiful creature tossed his mane and impatiently pawed the ground.
"Your steed, milady," he smirked as Anya's eyes grew wide.
"I hope you can either ride astride behind me, or at least side saddle in front of me, because this will be your only opportunity to catch a ride to my ranch."
"Perhaps side saddle, at least while in town, would be best," she stammered.
He tipped his hat then left her with his bag while he went to saddle his horse. In no time, Mr. Weston led it over to introduce her to his mount. "Miss Brown, I'd like to introduce you to Fury."
"Fury?" she gulped. "But I must correct you..."
This time the cowboy's eyes shuttered to a squint. "Yes?"
"My name is not Miss Brown. Mr. Brown was my step-father's name, and one I would not choose to even be hinted at as mine."
"That I can understand. A man who doesn't know enough to shake his boots out, well never mind. So, what should I call you?"
"My name is Miss Anya Barnshoffer. And you, sir?"
"Oh, I thought you knew. I'm Colton Weston. Shall we?" And before she could blink, he picked her up and plopped her on his saddle. When the horse suddenly side-stepped, she desperately grabbed a fistful of mane. "Hold, Fury. Ma'am now hook you leg over the saddle horn, then I'll climb up behind you after I tie our bags on the back."
All the way through town, people stopped on the boardwalks and in the street and stared. Colton tipped his hat to one and all and returned greetings to those who called to him, which were most of them.
"You certainly know a lot of folk."
He laughed, "You bet. We all have each other's backs, you might say, whether fighting for our Independence from Mexico or fighting the Comanches or fighting droughts or floods." But when her stomach rumbled as loud as low thunder," he barked a laugh. "It seems you're fighting hunger like I am. He tied his horse up in front of a hotel which had a nice dining room.
Colton then lifted the slight young lady down. His hands could almost span her tiny waist. No wonder she was starving. "You need to fatten up if you expect to survive out here in Texas. You're slimmer than a string bean." He had the audacity to grin at her gasp.
"How rude," she gritted under her breath.
"What's that?" he asked.
Surely he heard, but obviously could care less, so she ignored him. At least she would be able to eat. She felt like she truly could faint, and that was the very last thing she wanted to do in front of him. "Instead Anya merely said, "Thank you," and meekly followed him as he held the door open.
The food was the best she could ever remember and the first that she'd not had to help grow, cook and serve. Back home they'd had to keep meals much simpler to make their hard-scrabble garnered supplies stretch. She well remembered the days at the end of the war when sugar and flour and many other staples were not to be found.
"Excuse me, but I need to go speak to that man." Mr. Weston swiftly stood, pulled his napkin off his throat then followed someone outside.
Anya heard a raucous man approaching who sounded like he'd had too much to drink. Ignoring him, she watched out the window as a pretty blonde stopped to speak to Mr. Weston and the other gent. The woman ran her hand down Mr. Weston's arm. What a flirt! Curiously, she felt an unknown pang to her stomach, and it wasn't food nor could it be jealousy. Why would it matter to her who the cowboy talked to? Suddenly the inebriated man leaned over her table resting on his fists and swore.
"That two-timing piece of skirt is flirting with Mr. High and Mighty? Well, I'll show her!"
Before Anya could resist, the man picked her up off her chair, pulled her back on his lap and commenced kissing her in front of the whole world. Her resistance was useless against his iron strength. As quick as lightning, however, she was jerked off and throw across the floor barely keeping to her feet. With a growl, the abuser was lifted up out of her chair and held at his throat while the toes of his boots danced on air above the plank floor.
"I ought to..." Mr. Weston growled.
"Sir, not in here, please, take it outside or better yet, drag him to the sheriff's. We want no trouble with his likes."
The blonde had come inside and now stood with a gloved hand over her mouth, but with eyes that twinkled with amusement. Finally the young woman turned and looked her over with pure disgust. "The piece of skirt" sniffed, and huffed away swaying her hips. The way she had her nose in the air, was as if Anya stank. Then Anya realized, she probably did stink after two days riding on a hot train with little more than a splash of tepid water to her face to wash away soot and cinders.
Mr. Weston dragged the man out the door and threw him in the street right into a wet horse patty.
"I'd better not catch you taking advantage of lady again. You should have learned by now, Jude, that you don't have the right to manhandle any pretty face who comes along. If I had the time, I would have smashed you into the ground. Since I don't, you best learn your lesson quick, because next time, you won't be so lucky."
The man swore up a storm that was easily heard by all. Anya was certain she was beet red being so horridly embarrassed. Her her cowboy strode angrily back to their table huffing, "You ready to go? Cause I sure as shootin' am. Once outside he hissed through gritted teeth, "Why in all tarnation did you let that man kiss you, is what I want to know? I wouldn't have thought that of any daughter of Mrs. Brown."
Then Anya slapped him before she realized what she'd done. More than a few who had gathered to see the incident remained to witness her lack of self-restraint.
"Why'd you go and do that?" he ground out glaring daggers at her.
"Why do you think, you, you...You, sir, are not a gentleman!" she expressed as several people chuckled around them.
"Women, more trouble than they're worth! If your ma wasn't such a good cook, I'd send the whole pack of you off quicker than a bunch of coyotes." Nevertheless, he lifted her back up in the saddle.
Still angry, Anya kept her jaws locked so tightly they ached. At least Mr. Weston kept a bridle on his tongue as well, but the tension was tighter than a clothesline full of sheets in a windstorm.
"What happened back there?" he finally spit out.
"What? Are you sorry for jumping to conclusions?" she huffed.
"Lady, if you are one, just tell me what happened," he growled.
"I'll not be insulted, so let your own evil imagination paint it as you wish. I doubt you'd believe me if I told you anyway since you seem to hold me in so little esteem."
After that it was a screaming silence for at least a couple more miles. Her back was beginning to ache from sitting so stiffly and her jaw hurt from grinding her back teeth. What's more, she'd chewed her lips raw as well to keep from speaking.
Finally Mr. Weston grunted and said, "Knowing Jude as I do since I threw him off my ranch a few years back, I probably owe you an apology. I just saw red when I came in and found you sitting on his lap kissing the galoot."
Anya felt like slapping him again, but kept her hands in tight fists instead. She could feel her face heat again as much as at first. Seething, she finally spoke through clenched teeth, "I assure you, his attentions were uninvited as well as unwanted. If you truly want to know, the man had stopped to lean over our table in order to watch you make smiles with what he termed, "that piece of skirt," and decided to shame you by shaming me, as best as I can figure. I was powerless against him though I tried my best to get him away from me, of that you can be certain. No one came to my rescue until you walked in with the prissy blonde on your heels. And I find it unforgiveable that you would think my mother would have raised a daughter who would act the part of a hussy."
He sighed deeply as if from the very toes of his boots. "Seems, I let my temper get away from me and took it out on you. I guess I was owed that slap you gave me, even though I'll be the laughing stock of town for a smart piece. But I'm truly sorry, Miss Barnshoffer. I completely misjudged you and your circumstance. It's not a fine how-dee-do to our great state of Texas, is it."
She shook her head and said, "Thank you," was all Anya could manage to say because she was not ready to forgive his grave insult to her character. She would get her mother and little sisters out from under his employ as swiftly as possible, that much she was determined.
As the journey was longer than anticipated, Anya's stiff backbone could no longer hold her upright. She slumped against Mr. Weston. Sleep fought to claim her and won.
"Hey, sleepyhead, wake up. We're here. I do believe there's a little girl over there who has spotted you."
Anya sat up grinning as Etta came running screaming her name. She slid down off the saddle without waiting for the rancher's assistance and caught her sister up to twirl in her arms. Hearing the hullabaloo, her mother stepped out on the porch before she burst into tears. Anya hurried over to hug her sweet mama.
"I did not expect to see you here in Texas, my darling," she spoke in a cracked voice.
"And I could never dream of leaving you and the little girls here alone, mama." They went in on each other's arms with her new little sister Ellen clinging to her skirt. Anya had the thought to welcome Mr. Brown's orphaned daughter as well into their happy family gathering and reached out to her. The child was glad to be invited into their intimate circle of love.
As Colton untied their baggage, he kept glancing over to his cook's ever growing family. Holding her beautiful daughter up against him as they rode was sweet torture. He did not need the likes of her on his ranch to drive all his cowboys wild. Colton hoped it would be a short visit. He rubbed his face where the well-deserved slap had marked him. After all, he had insulted her. "Badly done, Weston," he said to himself under his breath.
As soon as the excited twitter settled down in the kitchen, Anya declared, "I've come to bring you home, Mama. I cannot in good conscience leave you here under the tyranny of Mr. Weston."
"Tyranny? Whatever are you talking about, dear?"
"Why, he's rude, obstinate, quick to malign a person's integrity," she sputtered before adding, "He's certainly is no gentleman!"
"Oh, Anya, I can't believe he would treat you in a dishonoring manner. Surely not! He has been most gracious to the girls and me."
"We love it here," Etta chimed in. "Mr. Weston lets us ride one of his old horses to school or to visit our neighbors the Kaufman's so we may play with their little girl. Besides, our teacher Miss Gunter is so nice, nothing like old Mrs. Scott. We don't want to leave."
"As you see, Anya, the girls have adjusted well and are happy. Indeed, I enjoy cooking for Mr. Weston who is very appreciative. He does not require anything too taxing for me and is most solicitous of us all. I thank God for sending him to our rescue after Mr. Brown died. I was about to despair of what would come of us, but he found us and invited us to his ranch. Besides that, I can't tell you the relief of not having the care of the whole farm lifted from my shoulders, all the worry, the grief of losing your father there, the anxiety over you working yourself into an early grave. Of course, I do hope that sometime Dan and Elizabeth can come visit us, or we can go there, but we are settled here, Anya. We are not your burden to bear."
"Oh Ma, you never have been a burden. I just don't trust Mr. Weston to always look out for your well-being. I would be much happier if you all would come home."
"No, we will stay, as long as the good Lord wills it. As for you, Anya, once again it is your decision to stay or to return to Dan and Elizabeth's farm. Only you can decide."
"It is not as easy as all that. I have no position here, neither have I a real place in my brother's house, except as his spinster sister..."
A snort was heard, breaking in on their conversation. "You, a spinster?" It was Mr. Weston who was leaning on the door jam of the kitchen. The little girls ran over to hug him chattering like sparrows about their sister's arrival.
Anya was speechless wondering how much he had heard, not to mention how much her family seemed to care for him. Suddenly, she was jealous. He had stolen their admiration and usurped her job of taking care of her mother and sisters. Why, he even seemed to return the girl's tender affection. She watched as he lightly tugged on the girl's braids.
"Are you looking for work, Miss Barnshoffer? I think the laundress in town is always looking for more labor."
Her mother scoffed smiling, "Mr. Weston, you should not tease her like that. I believe you have thrown her off kilter."
The boss laughed boisterously and the girls giggled and swung his rough hands in their much smaller grips.
Anya had trouble keeping her jaw from dropping.
"I must confess, Mrs. Brown, that we did have a little kerfuffle back in town. I will even go so far as to admit I unjustly misjudged your daughter. She has every right to be unimpressed by my manners. I'll have to take them out and polish them up before I try using them on her again." Then he winked at her.
What a flirt! Anya turned her back on him stubbornly crossing her arms across her waist. She could feel the blush burning.
Her mother tisked. "Oh, Mr. Weston, I think you both must have started off on the wrong foot, but I do appreciate you bringing her here to us from the train."
But her mother never straightened her smile into the pinched look Anya had grown so used to back home. It was a shock to realize that her mother was truly happy, content like she had not seen since Anya was a little girl.
"Look, Anya, look! See how strong Mr. Weston is?" She glanced back and saw him effortlessly lifted his arms with a small girl hanging on each side. The girls could not stop giggling.
"Indeed," she said feeling out of joint with the rest of her family.
"Miss Barnshoffer, I hope you know you are welcome to stay here with your mother and sisters as long as you wish. My only request is that you stay far away from my cowboys."
"Thank you for your gracious invitation." It was hard for Anya to get those words out her mouth. It wasn't that she had given up all hope of having her mother and the girls return home with her, but it would seem that it would take much convincing. She, however, was stubborn enough to wait it out and try. Anya went to the sink and pumped water to wash her hands. She found an apron and began working along side her mother who was preparing rolls for the next day.
"Would you care for some peach pie, Mr. Weston?" her mother asked when all Anya wanted was for the man to disappear.
The girls started jumping up and down, "Please say yes, Mr. Weston, because then Ma will give us some too!"
He chuckled and said, "I would love a piece of pie, Mrs. Brown."
They all ended up sitting down at the kitchen table eating together. Conversation flowed all around her.
"You mentioned a kerfuffle in town, sir?"
He glanced down at the girls, one on each side, and shook his head slightly.
Her mother gracefully changed subjects by saying, "It's a pity you did not have time to stop at the mercantile before you came home. I believe we are getting low on sugar."
"We can't have you run out of sugar when there are pies to be made, now can we?" He laughed easily. "I'll send one of the men into Sweet Briar with a wagon to get what you need. A trip back to Fredricksburg for a large shopping will have to be put off until later. Can you get by 'till then?"
"Most certainly." Her mother looked around the table at her three girls and sighed contentedly. "It's so good to have my three girls here together. Thank you, Mr. Weston, for allowing it."
"Of course. I hope you can figure out how best to arrange your lodgings. Whatever you decide, is fine by me, Mrs. Brown." He rose, grabbed his plate to take to the sink, then took his leave saying, "It's been a long day. If it is alright with you, we will skip our evening Bible reading for this one night. I'm sure you have much catching up with your daughter anyway. So, I will see you bright and early in the morning then. Good night."
When he left, Anya couldn't help but ask, "Evening Bible reading?"
"Yes, dear. Mr. Weston is a God-fearing man. Whenever he reads, he is very patient to explain it to your sisters. It is quite touching, in fact."
"Has he no family?"
"Not here. His brother became a Texas Ranger and their father was caught up in a stampede and died a couple years past. I believe his mother died when the boys were young." She lowered her voice, "I do believe he was lonely, not to mention hungry for good food. He seems to enjoy the girls filling his house with giggles and laughter."
"I just find that surprising is all."
After the girls were in bed, Anya drank a cup of coffee with her mother so they could catch up.
"A kerfuffle?"
"I was mortified!" Anya went on to explain everything.
Her mother patted her hand. I can imagine that was upsetting. I'm just a little surprised by Mr. Weston's behavior. He's always been, well, a little shy, but always polite to the ladies."
The next afternoon, the girls arrived home from school, but were playing in the barn with new kittens.
Anya had encourage her mother to rest since they had stayed up late visiting the night before. She thought nothing about hearing someone arrive until there was a knock at the door. Looking around, she realized there was no one else in the house to answer.
A pretty raven haired woman stood there. Rudely the woman said, "Who are you?"
My, that was blunt she thought, but tried to answer politely, "I'm Anya Barnshoffer, and you?"
"I'm Miss Gunter, your sisters' teacher. I suppose I was expecting someone perhaps closer to their age. I heard about the man in the restaurant, by the way, probably everyone has."
"How?" she sputtered. "We are a long ways from Fredericksburg." A chill came over her.
"Indeed. News travels fast," the woman smirked.
"Won't you come in, Miss Gunter? Mr. Weston is out for the day, I'm sorry to say. Would you care for tea or lemonade?' Her mother had slipped up behind her, much to her relief.
Anya did not feel very charitable or like entertaining someone who obviously would have preferred Mr. Weston's company and disdained hers. Should she go hide back in the kitchen? But the little girls came in exclaiming, "Miss Gunter, have you came to meet our sister?"
"Hello, sweethearts, of course."
Anya thought the woman's sickeningly sweet voice rang false, and it was confirmed when Etta said, "Is something wrong with your voice, teacher? You sound funny."
The woman put on a forced thin lipped smile and said, "No, I'm fine. Did you tell your mother about the grade I gave to your essay? It was the best in the class. And Ellen, yours was well done too." The teacher continued patting Mr. Brown's daughter on the head as if she were a pet dog.
"That's wonderful, girls!" her mother exclaimed. "Anya, could you help me bring in refreshments?"
"Certainly."
In a quiet voice her mother spoke a warning. "Be nice, Anya, and let her ill manners roll off your back. She is your sisters' teacher. Right now since they live here in Mr. Weston's house, they are teacher's pets. It would wound them if she became spiteful because of you. It is called jealousy. It is no secret that she has the man in her sights."
Anya shrugged her shoulders. "I'll be nice, Mother."
Soon they were all sitting around taking another sip of lemonade every time the conversation lagged. At that speed, her glass would soon be empty.
"So, Miss Barnshoffer, will you be bringing a boxed lunch to the church social after the service tomorrow? I came by to tell Mr. Weston that mine will be the one with a big pink bow on it. You will tell him, won't you?"
But the teacher stared at Anya as if to challenge her. She had a crooked eyebrow as if daring her to bring a better box lunch that would tempt Mr. Weston.
"I know nothing of the box lunch social and do not plan to bring one, ma'am. But we will be sure to tell Mr. Weston about yours. Did you say it will have a large red bow? I do hope Mr. Weston is not color blind and will confuse it I thinking it to be a large brown bow."
The little girls giggled. "She said a big pink bow, silly," Etta said.
"Oh, so you did, miss. Perhaps it is best that the girls tell him as I may not be trusted to remember the color." Anya collected the empty glasses to take back to the kitchen. If she took long enough, with any luck the woman would leave. But it was not to be. She heard Mr. Weston's voice in the parlor. She squeezed more lemons to make a drink for him. After stirring in the sugar, Anya walked out to offer him the glass. Of course he would be parched after being on the range all day in this heat.
"Thank you, Miss Barnshoffer. This will surely sweeten up a thirsty man." He looked up with gratitude as he took it from her, glancing her finger in the exchange. She almost dropped the glass.
"You're welcome. Has Miss Gunter had the chance to tip you off on which box will be hers at the box lunch social tomorrow?"
"Box social?" he stammered looking confused.
"Don't tell me you forgot, Mr. Weston." The teacher giggled like she was one of the little girls. "Surely you remember you promised to bid on mine."
"I guess it slipped my mind." He ran his hand through his sweaty hair plastered to his head from where his hat had crushed it down. "But I hate to disappoint you, but it doesn't look I'll be there. I have a horse ready to foal."
Miss Gunter looked confused. "But you have a whole passel of cowboys who could do that for you. Surely you would not miss a box social over a puny little baby horse."
"I'm afraid I would. This is the mama's first baby, and I like to be the one to welcome the new one. It's important that I be there in case of complications."
The teacher looked more sour than a pitcher full of lemonade without sugar. "I declare, you surprise me, Colton skipping out of the Sabbath."
Anya had not known Mr. Weston long, but she knew his look of anger. A cloud was building. Miss Gunter must not realize she was about to get all wet. Instead, the man quickly stood and said, "Please excuse me, Miss, but I've just come in from a long day on the range and need to clean up."
Only the girls continued to chatter, but Miss Gunter stood and made her exit soon after. She parted with a glare at Anya. Anya only smiled and said, "Thank you for coming just so that I could meet you. How kind."
Her mother stood by the door and closed it once the young woman left with the little girls trailing her out. Anya rolled her eyes and said, "I pity Mr. Weston."
He must have the ears of a donkey because he called down the stairs, "I heard that and appreciate your compassion, Miss Barnshoffer."
Her mother covered her mouth hiding her laughter while Anya stood stunned. Back in the kitchen, Anya said, "If you don't mind, I think I will wait until next week before going to church with you, especially since it is a special event, of which I have no desire to participate in nor give excuses for not doing so."
Her mother patted her back. "I understand. I should tell you that Miss Gunter's close friend from Fredericksburg is probably the young woman that caused the kerfuffle in the restaurant. That's why she already knew of it," her mother sighed then finished, "and why it will be spread far and wide. I think it is a good choice to give it another week to die down a little before you come to church and meet everyone."
"In other words, my reputation will be besmirched and gossip will be at my expense. Perhaps we should all stay home so the girls will not have their ears burning."
"I thought about that, but I think we should go with our heads held high. I'm your mother and no one would dare smear your name in my hearing. I will keep the girls close tomorrow. They won't be happy, but I think we will come home after the service however."
"Thank you, mama." Anya gave her a side hug then went back to supper preparations.
The evening meal's conversation was mostly held up by the girl's light chatter and centered mostly on the horse that was about to foal.
"Can we watch, Mr. Weston?"
"I don't know if it will happen before your bedtime, so I can't promise even if your mother did give her permission." He looked to their mother to answer that question.
She looked at Anya and said, "I suppose I could let you go out for awhile before bath time if Anya was with you. She can make sure that you don't bother Mr. Weston or get too noisy and bother the horse while you go play with the kittens in the barn. Then, after the horse is on its feet, then you may go see it, but not while it is being born. But more often than not, births happen more during the night watches, not at our convenience. So, young ladies, you most likely won't get to meet the foal until tomorrow morning."
"Ahh," they sounded disappointed. Anya looked pointedly at Etta and knocked into her knee under the table. "Thank you, Mr. Weston. Thank you, Ma, for letting us go out to the barn," she said. She perked up and added, "I have dibs on the tiger kitten!"
"I have dibs on the black one with while boots," Ellen responded. Usually, Anya had noticed, the girl either was quiet or agreed with everyone else, especially Etta. It was nice to hear her assert herself for once.
"I might have dibs on the calico," Mr. Weston teased. "How about you, Miss Barnshoffer?"
"I'm not sure, but wasn't one of them a bob-tail? I think I am partial to that one," she answered smiling.
Later on the girls complained about having to leave for their bath, but Anya was glad. It seemed the pregnant horse was restless, rolling to stand only to lay back down. Mr. Weston was in the stall speaking quietly to her and stroking her neck. The only other sound was a cow lowing. Time passed. It was late.
"Mr. Weston? I think I see a hoof."
He got up slowly so as not to scare the horse, but then came to stand near her where she stood just outside the door to the stall. "We'll see if she can deliver by herself before we try to help it along."
His ranch foreman walked up and stood beside Anya. "Ever see a horse be born?" he asked in a quiet voice.
"No. We only had mules, so no babies."
Half an hour later, it was such a miracle when the mother's heaving was able to push the foal out. She then stood to lick off the sack. The wee one was finally was able to stand on wobbly legs making her want to cheer. Mr. Weston put his arm around her shoulders for a quick hug. "I don't think I'll ever tire of seeing a birth."
She could only nod, such was her wonderment. Then she fought a yawn. I guess I better get some sleep. Then she whispered to Mr. Weston, "Does this mean you will make it to the box lunch auction to bid on the one with a big pink bow after all?
"Shh, don't tell anyone that I haven't been up all night helping my horse." Then he winked at her. The other times he winked at her, it upset her. Now, it was like camaraderie, in league against a box social.
She laughed. "I'll never tell. Congratulations on your new filly."
"Good night, Miss Barnshoffer."
The next morning, Anya slept in. She did not know when that had last happened. But she did feel a little guilty. So after getting dressed, she grabbed her Bible and walked to the creek upstream so as not to cross paths with any cowboys downstream who did not attend church. Stepping carefully so as not to spill her coffee, Anya was about to sit down on a large rock when she squealed as Mr. Weston stood up from where he was squatted down by the stream. Her coffee flew in every direction, even across his shirt.
"Oh, sir, you scared me. I'm so sorry. I hope it did not burn you. You should get that soaking right away so it will not stain."
He looked at her and shrugged. He began unbuttoning his shirt to do so immediately but turned as she gasped.
"I did not mean that you should do it here." When he began to grin at her, she bloomed into pink cheeks.
"If it bothers you, just turn your back, Miss Barnshoffer," he winked.
"Why do you keep winking at me?" she asked getting her back up.
"Maybe I like to see you blush."
"Well, you succeeded. I guess, I'll go back to the house."
"Wait. You brought your Bible, though I forgot mine. I like to come here and spend time with the God. Would you like to read the Bible with me? It is the Lord's day afterall."
She looked at his shirt only partly unbuttoned and then at his face.
"If it will help, I'll button my shirt back up." He swiftly took care of it then looked up to her. "Well?"
"I was going to sit on this big rock. I guess we can read Scripture together." She handed him her Bible before sitting carefully covering her ankles. He sat down and began flipping through the pages. "Is there any place special you want me to read?"
"I was in I John, chapter two. " She sat looking down into the burbling water allowing peace to touch her deepest parts. When at home, she was always alone as she walked the creek. Here was a man willing to read the Bible with her.
He read through the chapter and arrived at what the apostle wrote to young men. His whole countenance seemed to come alive. "This is how I want to be known, as a strong man, one in whom the word of God abides above all else. I want to have that strength to overcome the evil one."
"When have you had to wrestle against the evil one that's spoken of here?"
He laughed a deep chuckle. You ought to know, Miss Barnshoffer. You saw my irritability and rudeness when we met. Then you had a front row seat to how I was barely keeping control from beating Jude to a pulp. Finally, you know that I was quick to believe a lie that you were less than a proper young lady, to my shame. You were the one who was hurt by my behavior when all you came to do was to make sure your mother and sisters were all right."
He went on. "It's not an excuse, but I was returning from a visit with my brother. I don't know if your mother told you, but my brother is a Texas Ranger. I had received word that he was injured in a shoot out, and I had to see him. I hardly slept or ate until I was able to find him on the mend. He's all I have left. I came home exhausted and took it out on you. I should have known that you are nothing like Miss Eisenbrower in Fredericksburg, nor like Miss Gunter here in town. Lately I find myself cringing from female attention. I'm afraid I did not give you the benefit of the doubt."
He scrubbed his face. Just because a woman tries to talk like she has syrup in her mouth does not make her a sweet or godly woman. I don't want to shock you, but Miss Gunter has done her best to put us in compromising situations so as to force me to propose. That's one reason I hired your mother, so that she could give me protection rather than to be alone in my house when that woman comes around. She had become so bold as to walk right in without knocking. She'd even walked right into my bedroom one morning, but thankfully my foreman saw her and trailed her there. Boy did she squawk about that."
"Oh my, I would never think her that bold."
"Well, I have a successful ranch here which some women would think of as a soft life. Anyway, your mother has been a real godsend since I found her by her wagon as someone led her oxen away. And your little sisters, the scamps, never let me alone when their teacher is here, thank goodness. I encourage it even. So you see, I must battle the devil both in subtle and bold fashion. Once again, I apologize for misjudging you and treating you ill."
"I understand it better now. You have given me much to ponder."
"So what is one of your favorite Scriptures, Miss Barnshoffer, now that I've bared my soul?" he grinned.
"Well, whenever I churn butter, I quote Psalm 1 about being firmly planted. The funny thing is, I used to long to run away. The hardship of trying to run our farm once my pa passed away and my brother was assumed dead in the war, it all fell on my shoulders. It was difficult, to say the least. Then I would get confused when it talked about being planted by the rivers of water when all I wanted to do was to float away. But when my mother left, I felt like God kept me planted right there at home. It was the hardest thing I've ever done to watch them leave. Now here I am. I can't say I'm running away, but neither can I say I'm planted any longer. So, I can only be planted in His word until He tells me what I should do next. I am very appreciative of your kindness in allowing me to stay here for now." She had never shared this much with anyone, not even her friend Jane, not even with her mother. She had no idea why she was doing so now.
"You are thinking of leaving?" He looked concerned.
"I, uh, I thought you hoped I would," she stuttered.
"No, no, well maybe that first day. But seeing you reunited with your mother and sisters has been a joy to watch, especially since my parents are both passed on and my brother is far away. Your mother makes me feel almost like I am another son and the big brother to your sisters."
Anya poked him in the ribs before asking him with a grin, "So do you feel like you are my big brother?"
He looked down at her and his face turned serious. She could not look away."I could never feel that way about you, Miss Barnshoffer."
The moment was broken when she heard her little sisters calling. Church was over, and they had returned home. He helped her up and they walked back with their shoulders brushing at times.
"There you are," her mother sighed.
"We were having our own church at the creek, Mrs. Brown."
"Well good," she beamed. "Let's eat that fried chicken I made extra pieces of last night. Girls, go wash your hands and set the table.
It was a pleasant meal with much laughter especially as the girls told about Miss Gunter's box lunch being bought up by the first bidder.
"I had not planned on staying to watch, but it was amusing," their mother chuckled.
"Guess who bought teacher's lunch?" Etta challenged.
"Mr. Sorenson!" And both girls broke out into peals of laughter.
"You should have seen her face," her mother finally stopped enough to add, "Oh, she looked like she had sucked on a lemon, and don't you girls go carrying tales by telling her I said that." She shook her finger at the two who just grinned.
Mr. Weston was grinning ear to ear. "Mr. Sorenson is a huge man of about fifty years of age, one who, shall I say, is not particular about cleanliness. But he is a good man, just not all that popular with the ladies. I've been trying to convince your mother that she ought to look his way..."
"What !"she screeched and threw her cloth napkin at him. "You're impossible, Colton Weston. Shame on you!" Anya laughed thinking she had never seen her mother so lighthearted.
The girls were aghast until they realized he was just teasing their mother. They soon joined in the hilarity. After they went to the barn to see the new filly and to play with the kittens, their mother looked troubled.
"What happened mother?"
"Oh, you know, scuttlebutt."
"About me?" she asked.
"Yes. You can imagine Miss Gunter bustling around before and after church giving a skewed version of that encounter in the restaurant. She had to be careful since I was close by, but she left plenty of insinuations. I'm just glad that it seemed to go over your little sisters' heads, for now at least."
"Why that little brat!" Mr. Weston spat.
"She had to be careful because she did not want to malign you, Mr. Weston. By running my daughter down and impugning her character, she seems to think that clears a path into your good graces."
"This has to stop. I'll go over..."
"No, sir, you will not. Perhaps that is what she wants, to have you come calling, and we both know how dangerous that is. We can live it down. Once people come to know my sweet daughter, it will all settle down."
Anya wished she could be as positive as her mother. When she glanced up, it was to Mr. Weston staring at her.
"This is all my fault," he said ruffling his hand through his hair.
She barked a laugh. "Of course it is not your fault. Some drunk manhandled me, a stranger, in a restaurant, in a public place where surely most people witnessed me being assaulted by his uninvited attention."
"Maybe if I'd had him locked up..."
She put her hand on his arm. "It is not your fault. Don't let the wiles of the enemy bring you down by doubts. God knows and can bring good out of the situation. Just wait and see."
He put his hand over her's for a moment, and a comforting warmth seeped in.
The next day, the little girls came home from school early, before noon even. They quickly tied the horse to the post and came running in. Colton was just sitting down to eat with them.
"Mama, mama!" Etta yelled.
"Guess what!" Ellen was about to burst with news.
"Catch your breath, you two, then you may tell me." Her mother brushed the hair out of Ellen's eyes. "You go first, sweetheart."
"Not fair," Etta protested with her arms crossed.
Ellen eagerly said, "The school board came right into the classroom and told us we all needed to go home."
"But we snuck around the back and listened in through a crack in the cloakroom," Etta added.
"Girls, you know better than that," their mother tried to pierce them with a no-nonsense stare, but it didn't take.
"No, Mama, listen!" Etta exclaimed. "They told Miss Gunter that she had to leave, had to resign immediately. They said they had it from a good source that she was pregnant!"
"Pregnant without being married," Ellen exclaimed.
The room was silent. Finally, their mother shooed the girls out to eat from their lunch pails on the porch. Then she said, "No wonder that woman was after you, Colton. She was desperate!"
"Now Mrs. Brown, don't make it sound like a woman would have to be desperate to consider marrying me," he grinned, but then sighed. "So that was her game. It figures."
"I'm glad she didn't rope you into her machinations in front of the whole church yesterday," Anya said sending him a quick glance. "Who knew that even a box social could turn sinister under those circumstances."
"No wonder she was trying to turn the whole community against you, Anya," her mother said.
"Thank the Lord he sent you to me in order to help me stay above reproach, Mrs. Brown."
She nodded, "Something I tell God I'm thankful for every day, not just for your good, but for ours."
"Do you think she'll try to pin this on me anyway?" he asked nervously. "I mean, what if she declares me to be the father?"
The back door slapped open and the girls brought their empty lunch pails in. Etta said, "Oh, we forgot to tell you what else happened, Ma. Miss Gunter started cursing and screaming, 'It's all Jude's fault!' Who's Jude?"
"Oh my!" She held her arms out for her little girls. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that."
Anya whispered to a stunned Mr. Weston, "Is that the same Jude that I, uh, met in the restaurant?"
"He's the one and only Jude in these parts," he whispered back. "I knew he had ruined a young daughter of one of the Mexican ranchers around here. That's when I ran him off my ranch. Her father and brothers found him and beat him up but good too. It took him awhile to recover."
After the girls left, Mr. Weston filled them in further. "Actually, Miss Gunter has only been the school teacher for part of the year. She came from Fredericksburg. Even though she had no experience, the school board was relieved to find someone who was willing to finish out the year at such a low salary. If Jude knew her best friend, chances are he knew her as well. The pieces are coming together, sadly."
Needless to say, everyone had forgotten the scuttlebutt that Miss Gunter had spread about Anya by the time the next Sunday came around. She sat by her mother and sisters and tried not to ignore to the whispers about the school teacher but were keen to hear any whispers about herself.
However, Anya was shocked when a group of men approached her after church. She clung to her mama's hand.
"Miss Barnshoffer?"
"Yes?"
"We are the school board, except for Mr. Sorenson who is home with his gout. But we wanted to ask if you would be willing to consider finishing out the school term. I'm sure you've heard of the unfortunate expulsion of the previous teacher. A bad business. All the men looked down at their boots and shook their heads."
"Why me?" she asked.
"Mr. Weston recommended you. He gave you a high character witness. In addition we all know what a wonderful woman your mother is..."
"Yes!" she yelped, then thought better of it. "Yes, I mean I'll pray about it and get back to you tomorrow, if that's alright."
The gentlemen beamed, shook her hand and left. Mr. Weston came up behind her and whispered, "She shall be planted by the rivers of water..."
Anya looked up into his fond gaze. It made her eyes water so that she had to blink quickly. "You are a good man, Colton Weston, a strong man in whom the word of God abides. You have overcome the wicked one."
"I only hope that the future will be fruitful as you put your roots down here, Miss Barnshoffer."
"Anya. You may call me Anya."
"And you may call me Colton." This time when he winked, she winked back making him blush.
Earlier that morning, when she had looked over the congregation of eligible men under forty who were warming the pews on this Lord's day, she had eyes only for one man, Colton Weston. He was a good and godly man, strong enough to run his own ranch and tender enough for two little girls who were swinging his hands in theirs as they stood by his side in the church yard. She needed to write her brother that they were staying. No more running away. She was in the place she belonged and would plant her roots down deep in Texas soil.
