“Yes, she needed something to occupy herself,” Mrs. Wallace said, as she plunked the coffeepot back on top of the stove. “She was devastated when your brother died during the influenza outbreak, Jack. We were worried she’d—well, we used to call it ‘going into a decline,’ back before the war. For a while we thought she was going to die of a broken heart.”
Jack’s own heart ached at the thought of Caroline’s grief hitting her so hard that she’d almost died of it. He remembered how he’d felt when his own wife had passed away—bewildered, helpless, but so busy keeping the chores done while trying to console his very young children who had lost their mother that he’d had little time to cry.
It had only been at night, when the ranch house was quiet, that he’d had time to lie awake and mourn for his young wife. He remembered he hadn’t slept much for about half a year, until his body eventually tired from sleep deprivation and his sleep became heavy and dreamless.
Was love really worth it if the loss of a mate could wreck a body like that? Yet he missed being married, missed the softness and tenderness of a woman.
Mr. Wallace rose, muttering that it was time to open the post office, and went through the door in the kitchen that connected their house to it. Mrs. Wallace came to the table with a small helping of bacon and eggs, finally sitting down to break her own fast now that everyone else was fed. He hated to leave her at the table by herself, and since his pocket watch indicated it was still only half-past eight, he decided to keep her company.
“When Pete left Houston, he wrote me that he was coming to Simpson Creek to meet the ladies of ‘the Spinsters’ Club,’” Jack began, thinking he’d satisfy his curiosity and make conversation at the same time.
Mrs. Wallace smiled. “Yes, they started out calling it ‘the Simpson Creek Society for the Promotion of Marriage,’ but that didn’t last too long. They’re really something, those girls. When the war ended, and the only men who managed to return home to Simpson Creek were the married men, Milly Matthews decided she didn’t want to be an old maid and organized the others who felt likewise into a club. Well, sir, they put an advertisement in the Houston newspaper inviting marriage-minded bachelors to come meet them, and the men began coming, singly and in groups. First one to get married was Milly herself, to a British fellow, Nick Brookfield. In fact, if you do spend the winter on the ranch, they’ll be your neighbors. Then her sister Sarah met her match, the new doctor, and Caroline would have been the third, except for the influenza…” Her face sobered, and she looked down.
“I understand quite a few folks died then, not just Pete,” Jack put in.
“Yes, too many. People on ranches, people in town. I reckon we might’ve lost more if Dr. Walker hadn’t been here. The mayor’s wife died, and her sister, and the livery stable owner, and the proprietor of the mercantile… It was awful, Jack. I don’t know why Mr. Wallace and I were spared, but we’re thankful.”
Jack deliberately changed the subject. “Did your daughter always want to be a teacher?”
Mrs. Wallace wiped her lips with a napkin, then shook her head. “No, she never said anything about it before, though she was always quick to learn. But when the old teacher announced she was leaving to be a missionary this summer, suddenly Caroline decided she was going to take her place and devote herself to the children of the town. Oh, she still helps out with the Spinsters’ Club, just because she’s friends with those ladies, but she’s made it clear she’s given up on the idea of marriage.”
“Well, hello there, Caroline!” a voice called, and Caroline looked up to see her friend Milly Brookfield just pulling up in her buckboard in front of the doctor’s office. No doubt she was here to visit her sister Sarah in the house attached to the back of the clinic. As Caroline approached with the curious girls at her side, the old cowboy who had been holding the reins took the baby Milly had been holding so Milly could descend, then handed him to her on the ground.
“Mornin’, Miss Caroline,” he called, fingering the brim of his cap. “You got some new students, eh?”
“Morning yourself, Josh. Yes, these are Amelia and Abigail Collier. They’re going to be staying with us for a while.”
“Nice to meet you, young ladies. Miz Milly, reckon I’ll jest mosey over to the mercantile and pick up those things you were wantin’,” Josh said. He set the brake, clambered down and walked stiffly down the street. Caroline guessed the old cowboy’s rheumatism had gotten worse, along with his hearing.
Milly hadn’t missed the significance of the girls’ surname, however, and raised her eyebrows, her eyes flashing a question to Caroline.
“Yes, these are Pete’s brother Jack’s daughters. He arrived yesterday.” Caroline stared straight into her old friend’s eyes, willing her to understand that there was more to the story that she didn’t want to discuss in front of the children. She knew Milly was aware that Caroline had never gotten an answer to the letter she’d sent to Pete’s brother informing him of Pete’s death.
Milly, God bless her, didn’t miss a beat. “Well, isn’t that wonderful that you could come for a visit!” she said, bending down to the girls. As she did so, baby Nicholas woke up and cooed, sending the girls into delighted giggles.
“He’s darling!” cried Amelia, while Abby asked, “What’s his name? How old is he? Can I hold him?”
“Another time, perhaps,” Caroline told them. “We have to get to school, remember?”
“I’m sure your mother’s thrilled to have two little girls to spoil,” Milly said, and then to the girls, she added, “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to hold little Nicholas. He’s just getting to the age where he likes to flirt with older women.”
The girls giggled again.
Milly turned back to Caroline. “I thought I’d drop in on Sarah for coffee, since we came to town to get supplies, but why don’t I stop over at the school at morning recess and we can catch up?”
Caroline could see from the avid interest in her friend’s eyes that she wanted to hear the full story of Jack Collier’s arrival. Which was fine, for Caroline needed to tell someone about it, someone who would understand the feelings that had overwhelmed her yesterday at seeing the man who looked so like his brother. Someone full of common sense, as Milly was, who would understand the contradictory feelings that had warred within Caroline after he had first exasperated her with his foolish plans, then confused her later with his kindness. Suddenly she could hardly wait till recess, when the children would be outside and she and Milly could have a frank talk. It had been too long since Caroline had shared her feelings with her friend.
“That would be wonderful,” she said. “I usually have recess at ten. Come on, girls, we’d better hurry, or Billy Joe Henderson will ring that bell before we get there.”
Henry Avery studied Jack with a skeptical gaze that told Jack he was drawing conclusions from his bedraggled appearance—Jack’s worn denims, down-at-the-heel boots, the shirt and vest he hadn’t managed to brush entirely free of trail dust, his battered, broad-brimmed hat. But once Jack told the bank president what he was there for and that Mr. Wallace had sent him, Mr. Avery showed him into his back office with encouraging eagerness.
“That’s a capital idea, capital!” he enthused about Jack’s proposal to winter at the Waters ranch. “I don’t mind telling you it’s been difficult to raise any interest in the place after the last two owners were murdered—”
“Yes, Mr. Wallace told me about their deaths,” Jack put in quickly, not wanting to hear another long recital of the tale. He didn’t want the sun to get too high by the time he made it out to the herd, for he knew his drovers would be wondering about him.
“Yes, folks say the place is cursed, but I know a sensible fellow such as yourself doesn’t pay any mind to silly tales like that. Fact is, it’s prime ranch land, well-watered. And if you were to build a cabin on it to stay in over the winter, I’d probably have no further difficulty