a chair beside April’s table. It was nearing dark now, and the last happy customer had left the meeting hall with a bottle of vegetable compound.
“We made eighteen dollars today,” April told her.
“Eighteen? That’s wonderful.”
April put the money into an envelope and handed it to Mrs. Pinkham, then began placing the remaining bottles of compound into a box. Dan would carry it to the carriage later. She glanced up, smiling when she saw another of Lydia’s sons, Will, busily gathering up pamphlets the crowd had left behind.
Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Lydia closed her eyes wearily. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could place a bottle of compound in every woman’s hand?”
“The way sales are picking up, that might not be so implausible.”
“Oh, my dear.” She chuckled. “It’s a very large world, and there are so many, many women who are trying to cope with female problems…. If they only knew there were alternatives.” She smiled at April. “I appreciate all you’re doing, dear. You’ve been a big help. Very dedicated.”
April hesitated, then decided to tell the truth. “I believe in the healing powers of the compound, Mrs. Pinkham, but I also see this as my ministry.”
Her brow furrowed. “Ministry?”
“Yes. I believe God has called me to help women, and he brought us together for that purpose. We’re doing more than selling a compound. We’re providing God-given health to the women of Dignity.”
“My,” Lydia said faintly. “I am indeed indebted to you for your service. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Mrs. Pinkham. Thank the good Lord for taking pity on us women.” April grinned. “And you and your family for making the long journey from Massachusetts.”
“Ready to go, Mother?” Will called.
“Coming, dear.” Getting up, Lydia smoothed back a stray hair. A tall, striking woman, she was imposing enough to compel people to accept her claims. “We’ll not have a meeting tomorrow, dear. Dan is traveling to Austin to look into new market opportunities.”
April tried to conceal her relief. She’d spent three weeks hiding, evading Dr. Fuller. He wasn’t coming to the house as often, yet she had to be on guard every moment for fear something or someone would alert him to the fact that she was Riley’s granddaughter. Very soon the Pinkhams would move on and her covert activities would cease. Every rally she attended left her anxious and full of guilt. If it wasn’t for the community’s concern for their kindly old undertaker, Riley would already know what his granddaughter was doing.
Lydia hesitated a moment at the door. “Is Henry coming for you?”
“Yes, he’ll be here any moment now.” Consulting her pendant watch, she noted the time. Henry was always prompt. If today’s meeting hadn’t ended early, he would be waiting now.
“I’m glad he’s working with us. He’ll be going with Daniel tomorrow. They have sound ideas for getting the compound into stores all over Texas.” Lydia shared a tired smile. “Well, there’s advertising copy for the newspaper to write yet tonight. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Henry was going to Austin with Dan again? Why hadn’t he told her? April wondered. That made the third trip in as many weeks, trips he’d failed to mention.
Checking her appearance by feel, April carefully rearranged her hat on curls that had taken her a full hour to fashion. She hoped she looked pleasing to Henry today. She’d worn the princess-style dress he favored, recalling how he swore its bluebonnet belle color exactly matched her eyes. The dress was outrageously overpriced, but Grandpa was good about letting her purchase whatever she wanted from the mail-order catalogs.
Turning slowly, she glanced down, perusing the cut of the dress. The jacket was fashioned atop a full overskirt. The buirasse bodice was tight and molded to the hips—an effect, if the look in Henry’s eyes was any indication, he appreciated.
Tugging at the close-fitting waist, she wished she could wear the style without a long, tight corset. It was a good thing her job required her to stand, for the skirt of the dress was so tight, she couldn’t have hoped to sit with any semblance of grace.
Straightening the stiff sleeves, she absently reached for her reticule and turned toward the front door of the small meeting hall to see if Henry had arrived.
He had not, but it was still early. She’d told him seven o’clock, and it was barely six forty-five. Yet, she hoped he would hurry. They had so little time together anymore. His involvement with the compound kept him working long hours, sometimes late into the night.
Henry Trampas Long. Yet another secret she was keeping from Grandpa. One that would most certainly give him fits if he ever learned of it. Grandpa didn’t see Henry as she did. Handsome, with flaxen hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to see right through her, Henry was admittedly more a “woman’s man” than a “man’s man.”
Although they’d just begun working together, she’d known Henry all her life. They’d been schoolmates during their growing-up years.
Henry was a natural-born charmer. He got the nickname “Sweet Talker” after he’d persuaded the teacher to end classes a week early one summer. Miss West, clearly enchanted with her handsome pupil, who was a mere two years younger than she, had fallen for his concocted story about spring fever being counterproductive to learning.
As they grew up, April and Henry had had their spats, but after they left school she began to view him differently—less as a former schoolmate and more as a potential suitor.
At first April wasn’t sure how she felt about the gradual change in their relationship, but then she realized how exciting it was to be courted by a man like Henry. Not only did they know one another well, but also he could charm the petals and thorns off a rose.
Grandpa, of course, still saw Henry as the fool who’d turned over outhouses and played pranks on unsuspecting Dignity residents. It was easy for him to consider Henry’s occasional appearances at the front door as innocuous.
But April didn’t consider anything about Henry innocuous. Their relationship was growing closer every day. In fact, he’d been dropping hints recently that led her to believe he was about to propose any day now. If it wasn’t for his precarious health, she would tell her grandfather about Henry. She didn’t like keeping things from him, but she didn’t dare say anything until Henry actually proposed. April prayed the good Lord understood the situation, and while he wouldn’t approve of deceit, he would understand the sensitive issue.
Hearing Henry’s runabout buggy turn the corner, she stepped to the doorway, watching him masterfully bring the bay to a halt in front of the building. Smiling, he climbed down, his wry grin half hidden beneath his flaxen mustache.
April’s heart swelled as she watched him approach. He was indeed a fine figure of a man, resplendent in a navy-blue, double-breasted cutaway coat over a matching vest, with slim trousers in a subtle check pattern. A jaunty tie was just visible beneath the collar of his snow-white shirt.
His hair, thick and full, was tamed somewhat by pomade, his mustache meticulously trimmed. He carried a flat-crowned hat in his left hand, and his gaze was pinned directly on her.
“My bluebonnet belle,” he murmured, reaching for her hand as he approached.
“Henry,” she whispered, embarrassed that he would utter such an endearment in public, though delighted he would be so daring.
Concern filled his face. “Have I kept you waiting?”
“No, we finished early. You’re right on time.”
Assisting her into the conveyance, Henry climbed aboard, and, with a smile in her direction, gently slapped the reins against the horse’s rump.
“I hear we had a very good day,”