Chapter
3 -- Gale Force
by Abigail of Dreamers
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program
"Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and
have been used without permission. No copyright
infringement is intended by the author.
The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.
She stood by the
second story window looking across the house and barn to a distant, very green
hill that clear air made close. A breeze crossed her face and tousled her hair
and blew her dress back. Today was the Harvest Festival, and she was running a
book donation booth to start a library. She had already dressed and readied,
looking smart and stylish, hoping her good appearance would convince Stockton
to support her efforts. He looked up at her from the bed. Laura Barkley was a
beautiful, fiery woman. She sighed. He rose quietly from the bed and crept
behind her, then clasped her waist suddenly. She yelped.
“Nick! You startled me!”
“No kidding.”
“Oh, you.”
“What’s milady doing up ‘nd dressed so early?”
“She’s getting ready for the festival.” Her hand went up to caress his face
where it kissed her neck. “Stop that. I don’t have time for that this morning.”
“I can change your mind, milady.”
“Oh no you don’t!”
“Laura! Come on! You have plenty of time.”
“After the dance tonight.”
“Now.”
“Nick Barkley, I have a booth to run. Tonight.”
“Who’s to say I’ll be in the mood?” Laura laughed.
“You will be.”
“Damn you, woman!” Her laughter trickled to his ears as she picked up an empty
coffee cup and walked out of the room. With a resigned sigh, he started pulling
on a pair of pants.
***********
Hope stood by her window and brushed her hair with long, impatient strokes. No
matter how she braided it at night, it always came back tangled, and as the
night before she had merely tied it back, it was a mess. It was alright on
regular days to wear it down, but today she would see most if not all of her
pupils’ parents and families, and it wouldn’t do to look too young or not
sufficiently serious. She had her chemise, corset, and a small hoop on, and a
burgundy dress that brought out the rosiness in her cheeks waited expectantly
from where it lay on the bed. Finally ridding her hair of those knots
familiarly called rats, she took a thick section near her neck and twisted it,
then held and pinned it in a half circle opening downward on the back of her
head, a place for a burgundy snood to hold onto. The rest of her hair bent
uncooperatively as she managed to pin it in just the right position for the
high society snood hair style.
With hair in place, she stepped over to the bed. She was proud of that dress.
It was her own design, one which she’d been told was absurd in theory, and then
had proved itself in actuality. The main objection was to the buttons. Hope
liked buttons visible on a daydress, going straight down the front, but in a
more formal dress, it was impractical to have them on the back. How could a
woman living alone do it? So there they were, on the side, not easy to button,
but buttonable just the same. She slipped it on and buttoned it up with a
practiced hand, then jumped to smooth her skirt. Today was important, today
would she would talk to Jarrod Barkley.
The Harvest Festival had excited her from the beginning. It was an opportunity
to teach her young students some of her craft. Thankfully Heath had been there
to teach the boys to carve. With his patient nature and skill, she had been
certain that the carvings of her students would be wonderful, and, despite
small and clumsy hands, they were. Hope looked at her own entry. Little Maddie
had been so insistent she enter something. The little girl had told wondrous
tales of the beautiful altar cloth she’d embroidered, and none of them would
leave her alone about it. There wasn’t time to start something new and finish
it in time while maintaining her own standard of excellence, and it had to be
sinful to enter a gift for the Church in a contest. Well, perhaps it wasn’t,
but she didn’t feel right about it. So instead, she’d chosen a cradle quilt
from her hope chest. As a little girl she’d thought every hope chest was called
after the girl herself, and she could still remember her mother smiling as she
asked about the Bridget chest. The little blanket was full of color and showed
a scene perfect for A Child’s Garden of Verses. She sighed sadly. She wanted
children; she’d bragged to her mother as a ten year old she’d have twelve
children someday. Sometimes it seemed that there wouldn’t ever be anyone,
especially because of what she would do that day.
Enough of that, Hope scolded herself. You have things to do. The library. She’d
heard tell of it, the new Mrs. Barkley’s pet project. Stockton was sorely lacking
in literary opportunities. She’d already noticed that the newspaper had
interpreted freedom of the press as freedom with facts. Maybe she’d do
something about that, some other time. For now, there were books upon books to
get ready. She’d bring a basket over in the morning, and if she liked Nick’s
wife more than she liked Nick, the rest would come later.
*******
Laura stood at her booth. She’d gotten a few book donations that day for her
library, but the townspeople were not very open to it as a whole, though she
supposed she should console herself with the Morton donation, no matter was her
husband thought. Nick wasn’t very open to it, either, and wanted his wife’s
company.
“Laura! Forget about the books. I want to spend the day with you.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to collect books with me today. That’s very nice of
you, Nick, sweetheart.” Laura turned her head to him with a plastered grin
across her face, enlisting him against her will.
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Oh,” Laura said, with just the right amount of sorrow and disappointment.
“And you knew it! Women!!
“Speak of the devil! There comes that two-timin’ schoolteacher!”
Laura looked to where he was pointing and marveled at her husband’s sharp eyes
into the ten o’clock sun. She lifted her hand to shade her own eyes and looked
at the girl with a Nantucket basket for a purse and picnic basket full of
books. She swatted him angrily across the stomach. His hands flew to the
offended area.
“Hey, what was that for?!”
“Two-timing schoolteacher!”
“I told you all about her! Now what’s the matter?!”
Hope’s eyes scanned the festival. She had heard that someone was trying to form
a library and, as it was a worthy cause and she the town’s teacher, she thought
it only right she should put many of the books she had brought with her to
public use. There was the booth, and there was...
“Laura!” Hope called, still a good thirty feet away. She trotted at an odd gait
to the pair, closing the distance rapidly. Laura came out front of the booth in
a matched speed.
“Hope!” The two fell into a warm, friendly, tight embrace. Nick’s eyes popped
out with surprise.
“I didn’t know you were married to Nick!”
“We were married in August. I didn’t know you were here!”
“I sent a letter. I meant to look for you, but I’ve just been so busy––”
“I know, I know how you are, Hope.” With her arm over the shorter girl’s
shoulder, Laura pivoted them both back to face Nick. “Hope, I see you’ve met my
husband Nick. Nick, I’d like to reintroduce you to my cousin, Hope Dougherty,
of the Boston Doughertys.” Nick’s jaw dropped open, and the girls laughed.
“Well, I heard about the library, so I brought my books.”
“That’s wonderful. How are things at the school?”
“Just great. The children are for the most part well behaved. I’m a bit
nervous: I’ll be meeting their parents today, and I’m scared they won’t think
I’m grown up enough for this job.”
“You haven’t grown an inch since I last saw you, so they already think you’re
not grown enough. There’s no need to worry at all.”
“Thank you for your encouragement, cousin mine.”
“Nick, dear, would you watch the booth for a little while? I want Hope to show
me what’s entered in the fair. Hope, just leave the basket of books here.
Nick’ll keep a good eye on them, won’t you, sweetheart?” Laura’s question held
an undertone of threat and, knowing he was already in trouble for insulting his
new cousin, Nick grunted his agreement. “Good. We’ll be back in a while. See
you later!”
*******
Victoria had just laid a table cloth over one of the several picnic tables that
dotted the grounds every year in October. Not quite noon, she picked up the
basket from the ground and placed it on the seat, leaning the top against the
edge of the table as she opened it. Heath came up to the table.
“Mornin’ mother,” he said with a peck on her cheek.
“Good morning, Heath.”
“Have you seen Nick anywhere?”
“Last I saw him he was on his way to try to talk Laura out of that booth.”
“Well, Laura’s not there now. Saw her not long ‘go with Hope going through the tents.
I just finished setting up over on the other side.”
“You may not want to find him after all. He doesn’t look too happy.” Heath’s
eyes followed his mother’s arm.
“That look could get a cat to slither right outta it’s skin. Want to or not, I
need to make sure he remembered to bring the wine for tonight’s dance.”
Nick charged up to the picnic table.
“Have you seen Laura?!” he questioned gruffly.
“Saw her a minute ago with Hope; seemed to be havin’ a good time together, like
best friends,” Heath commented with a slanted grin that clearly showed he
enjoyed the couple’s differing opinions.
“Yeah, well, better than friends! Those two are COUSINS!”
“Nicolas, must you shout? I think that’s wonderful. I’m sure they’re great
friends. Whatever could be wrong with that? Cousins. I should have known; they
do have similar looks, of course not in the hair, but then Laura got that from
her father, didn’t she say once, he was blond when he was younger. And, of
course they have that Irish spirit, and Laura does have family in Boston. Why,
you brought Polly here yourself, Nick. And Laura’s been there before, you knew
that, Nick. Why are you so bothered?”
“Mother,” Heath began with a smile, “what you don’t know--”
“Can’t hurt you!” Nick interrupted. “And you, little brother, had better keep
it to yourself. Laura’s fit to murder me as it is!”
“What have you done now, brother Nick?” Jarrod asked, having just arrived.
“Good morning, Mother.”
“Good morning, Jarrod. It seems Nick has gotten himself into the troubled world
of Laura’s extended family.”
“Again? What relative showed up now?”
“Hope did,” Heath replied. “She’s Laura’s cousin, and old Nick here saw fit to
offer his own opinions of the young lady to his wife.”
“Would I be correct in assuming that Nick’s opinion was not favorable?”
“Yep. I’d even call it downright mean.”
“Nicolas!” Victoria censured. “She happens to be quite a fine young lady.” She
took in her son’s increasingly sheepish look and sighed. “You didn’t happen to
tell her what you thought of her, did you?” He looked down. “You did! It’s a
wonder she hasn’t left here. I can just see you telling her. She may still
leave! Oh, Nick.”
“Now, Mother, I wouldn’t be afraid of her leaving. Not after the way she told
me off.”
“She told you off?” Heath had been on the verge of laughter for several minutes
and now it burst forth with his question. “I’d of liked to see that, now, boy
howdy, I would indeed!”
“Well you didn’t!” Nick replied with a hint of a snarl, scraping together a
final shred of victory without success.
“Perhaps now you think better of her?” Victoria’s stern tone indicated which
answer was acceptable.
“Well, she did break up that fight..”
“A fight? What fight?”
“Just a schoolyard fight, Mother. Seems it’s not the first time, either. Have
to say, though, she stands her ground. Really gave those boys what for.”
“See? You found something about her you like. Why don’t you give the rest of
her a chance?”
“Alright,” he grumbled.
“Good!” Victoria said in her peculiar way of invoking an effort while
superficially seeming merely pleased. “Why don’t you go find them both now?”
“Okay, I’ll get them. Lunch almost ready?”
“Yes, and there’s plenty.”
“Nick, I gotta ask ya somethin’ real quick before you leave.”
“Can’t it wait till lunch, Heath?”
“Nope. Promised a little lady I’d have lunch with her.”
“What lady?” Nick was more than a little curious.
“Little Susie Goshen,” Heath replied with a pleased grin on his face.
“The orphan. Very funny. What did you want to ask?”
“You remember the wine for tonight?”
“Yes, I remembered the wine! Now, I’m hungry. The sooner I get started the
sooner I find them the sooner I get to eat. I’m going.”
*********
He found them in the baking tent. Laura had entered her raisin bread and it the
judges were just beginning to taste the goods.
“Finally, I found you!”
“Nick!” Laura exclaimed with a smile. “You were looking for us? Who’s watching
the booth?”
“No one, but it’ll be fine, I promise. Now, Mother sent me to get you two. It’s
lunch time, and I’m hungry, so let’s go.”
“Alright, we’re coming,” Laura said with a sigh. “I just wish I could stay to
see how they like my entry.”
“Don’t worry,” Hope assured. “Their reaction will be evident when they announce
the winners.”
“True. Well, let’s go then.”
“Sorry, I can’t,” Hope replied.
“Why not?” Nick questioned, his tone strong and angered.
“I promised to picnic with the orphans last time I was there.”
“Fine. I’ll tell mother, then.” Nick was blunt.
“We’ll catch up some more later,” Laura agreed. “See you then.”
“Yes. Hope your bread does well.”
*************
Polly Thomas had her gray hair pulled back in a conservative bun. She sat
straight, always kept her knees together and her ankles crossed, and wore a
pleasant but plain dress. Her smile did not match her manner, yet it did match
her. She was in a cheery mood seated at the picnic table of her niece’s family.
“There’s Laura and Nick now,” Victoria announced. “Hope’s not with them,
though.”
“That’s a pity. She was absolutely incorrigible at times, but for the most part
a dear girl. I should like to see her... Nice to see you, Laura. You were out
early this morning.” Laura kissed her cheek.
“Had to be, Aunt Polly. I’m collecting books today, you remember.”
“Of course I do. But I think I remember, too, seeing your name in the bakery
tent with some raisin bread next to it.”
“I’ve been making it so often I thought I might as well enter.”
“Why exactly HAVE you been making it so often, Laura?” Nick questioned.
“You know I love to bake, Nick. Aunt Polly, you should see what Hope entered in
the embroidery contest! It’s absolutely beautiful.”
“I’ll make a point of seeing it later. Now, I hope you made some raisin bread
for us, young lady.”
************
Jarrod saw Hope speaking to several of her students and approached.
“Why, congratulations, Bobby! That’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you all. You
worked very hard, and your carvings are excellent. Now, don’t spoil it by
getting into trouble, boys, and I think you’d all better thank Mr. Heath, so
scoot!”
Her students trotted off happily and she chuckled. Jarrod came up from behind
and put his hand on her shoulder. She jumped at the touch and turned.
“Oh, Jarrod! You startled me!”
“I didn’t realized you were so jumpy this afternoon. How are you?”
I’m fine. And you?”
“I’m well. Would you care to take a stroll?” Here was her chance.
“I’d love to.”
The festival was just outside of town, on the schoolhouse side. There were
large tents and several booths ranging from salesmen to games and many things
in between. They made polite conversation for a bit.
“Would you mind if we walked a little farther out, where there are less
people?” Hope asked suddenly.
“No, not at all.” Silence prevailed until they were mostly alone.
“I presume you wanted to come out here for a reason?”
“Y-yes. That’s right. You’re goin’ to have to be patient because I’m nervous to
be sayin’ this.” He noted the slight brogue. She breathed for a few moments.
“Is this about you and me?” he asked gently. She nodded shakily. “I’ve been
pursuing you too much?”
“No, that’s.. not it. You slowed down considerably, and I’m grateful.” She took
another deep breath. “I just don’t think it’s going to work.”
“We barely know each other. Give it some time.”
“I cahn’t. I just cahn’t. Some more time and you might think we’re more than
friends.
“I’m sorry, Jarrod. You’re a dear man, and I treasure your friendship. I don’t
want to lose it; that’s why I’m telling you now.”
“But Hope, think of how much we enjoy each other’s company. We joke and tease,
smile and laugh, spar over suffrage, relish each other’s intellect. What’s
wrong?”
“You don’t understand. Those things make for a friendship, not a marriage.
Jarrod, you’re one of the finest men I’ve ever met, and a wonderful friend.”
“Just friends?”
“There’s no ‘just’ in there. You know I’m right.”
“Yes,” he conceded with a sigh, “yes, I do. I’m sorry, but I must ask: is there
someone else?”
“No, there isn’t. I hope there will be someday, but no, no one.”
“But you want someone to be.”
“You’re makin’ this harder. Of course I do. Right now there is no one,
alright?” He heard the sorrow in her voice.
“I’m sorry.” She sighed.
“So am I. Jarrod, I’m so sorry ––”
“Don’t say it. You’re, you’re right.”
“I’m still sorry. I-in a lot of ways, I wish it could work.” He smiled gently
at her honesty.
“Thank you. You’re a fine woman, Hope.”
“And you’re a true gentleman.” She paused. “Let’s head back.”
“Sure,” he replied agreeably, satisfied that a conclusion, while not exactly
joyous but not unhappy, had been met.
***********************
Laura and Hope walked back towards the festival carrying a heavy basketful of
books between them.
“I will never know how you got these on a transcontinental train, Hope
Dougherty!” an exasperated Laura exclaimed.
“You wouldn’t want to know anyway,” came the reply, accompanied by a
flirtatious giggle. Laura eyed Hope seriously.
“I’m not carrying these, these SOILED books an inch further!” she declared as
she abruptly dropped the basket.
At her impulsive action, they collapsed into giggles. It was this merry scene
which Heath happened upon. He strode up to where the girls sat in the grass
holding their sides.
“Do I want to know what this is about?” he questioned, crossing his arms. As
they only laughed harder, he sighed. “Guess not. What’s all these books doin’
in the grass?” They took a few deep breaths with intermittent giggles.
“Laura threw a fit,” said Hope, unable to suppress a grin, “so it was only
fitting she throw something.”
“”They were too heavy,” Laura complained.
“You were the one that wanted a library.” Laura stuck out her tongue. Hope
replied in kind.
“Why di’n’t ya just ask me?
“Thank you, Heath, but you don’t have to.”
“Let him,” Laura commanded. “Never turn down a gentleman’s offer of help.”
“Oh, I’m a gentleman now?”
“Well, you
“I’d better, considerin’ how tryin’ you can be.” Laura swatted his leg as he
walked by, leaving them.
“Time to get up,” Hope declared.
“Really?”
“Yes.” Her eyes scanned the area at the advent of a sound. “Oh no!”
“What?” Laura asked seriously.
“Some of my boys are fighting by the schoolhouse!”
“Get help.”
“No, you go. I can stop them.” She scampered off.
“Don’t do anything foolish!” Laura called. “Too late,” she muttered after a
moment.
The school wasn’t as far as it had appeared and Hope arrived relatively
quickly. She appraised the situation at ones: the two boys assigned to painting
the school had started fighting, and the other boys had gathered to watch and
cheer. Hope pushed through the ring of boys.
“STOP IT!” she shouted.
The fight was getting worse. They were right near the front steps, and she
worried that someone would fall on them. She didn’t notice the help coming as
she squeezed between the two boys and placed a hand on each’s chest, trying to
push them apart.
“JOE, ANDY! STOP!” she shouted. But Joe’s punch made them all unsteady. Andy
ducked too little and was knocked on the shoulder, sending him down. Hope fell
back towards the steps, and Joe toppled down landing on her leg.
Seemingly out of nowhere, fathers appeared and pulled the boys up and away.
“Miss Dougherty, I’m so sorry for m’ boy,” came a voice.
“Me, too, ma’am. He won’t do it again. Looks like it’s time for a trip to the
shed.”
“It’s alright,” Hope said wearily from her odd position on the steps. “I think
this time they’ll learn not to do it again.”
“Hope! I told you not to do anything foolish!”
“Aw, hush, Laura, and help me up.” Laura froze. “Please?”
“Can you stand?”
“Are you hurt, Miss?” came a little voice.
“I’ll be fine, Bobby.”
“You didn’t answer me, Hope Dougherty.”
“Maybe I don’t want to?”
“Maybe you don’t know?” Hope sighed deeply.
“I give up. ... No, I don’t know. Pull me up please?”
The boys and their fathers looked properly contrite at the pained words.
“Miss Dougherty,” Joe began.
“Enough of it, Joe. You too, Andy. I honestly don’t know why you two of all my
students won’t get along. You could be great friends. I warned you the other
day someday someone’d get hurt. I’m just glad it was me and not one of your
classmates. And don’t think I’ve forgotten you boys, either. I distinctly
remember saying not to get into trouble. Watching is just as bad as
participating. Perhaps this time you’ll learn. It shouldn’t have come to this,
but it has. No used worrying over it. Just do better next time. And finish
painting my schoolhouse.
“And Laura Meredith Thomas Barkley, help me up right now!” Laura offered a
hand, and Heath appeared and offered his. “Where’d you come from, Heath?” She
took a strong hold on their hands.
“California. And you came from Boston, and you’re going to the doctor.”
“Won’t be any use.” She began to pull up, but her leg wouldn’t support her.
“We’ll see. Forget about this idea, Laura. There’s only one way you’ll make it to
Doc Merar’s. Which side’s worse?” She pointed to her left leg, and he made his
way to her right side. “Alright then. Excuse us, folks.” He scooped her up and
stood upright as people parted.
“You don’t need to carry me!” she said in a forceful whisper.
“Yeah I do.”
“Hope, use some sense,” her cousin cautioned sharply.
“I have plenty, thank you.”
“Where’d you leave it?” Laura returned. Hope rolled her eyes.
“Hope, what’s the matter?” Victoria questioned hurriedly as she joined the
now-procession to the doctor’s.
“Nothing Heath putting me down wouldn’t help,” she muttered.
“There was a fight at the schoolhouse, Victoria, and my cousin being, well,
herself, she couldn’t wait to try and stop it and she ended up on the stairs.”
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” At Laura’s glare, she amended, “I will be, anyway.”
“I certainly hope so. Has someone gone for the doctor?”
“Uh,” Heath stuttered.
“I sent Andy along, Victoria,” came a voice.
“Thanks, Bill. Oh, Laura, your raisin bread won the bread contest.”
“Really?!”
“Congratulations, sis.”
“That’s wonderful, Laura,” Hope said as cheerily as she could manage.
They reached the office and Laura opened the door. Heath carried Hope in and
laid her on the examination table.
“Jesus, Mary, Joseph! I’m not an invalid. I can sit up.” She sat up as the
doctor came in through the door.
“Well, now that I’ve been rescued from a discussion of the quilts of Stockton,
what can I do for you, Miss Dougherty?”
“You can call me Hope.”
“Alright, Hope. We’ll take this to the other room. Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
“No,” said Laura. In defiance, Hope lowered herself down, hobbled a bit, and
looked back at the doctor.
“Lead the way.”
“You’re a fool, Hope.”
“And you’re argumentative, Laura. Come along.”
“Would you like Laura with you?” the doctor questioned.
“Yeah, contrary to all sense,” she smiled, “I would. L, you can help me answer
some of the questions. Oh, and thanks, Heath, Mrs. Barkley. And don’t bother waiting.
It’ll take around an hour. And if you see my students, please tell them not to
worry.”
**************
“Where’ve you been, Mother, Heath? And where’s Laura?” Nick questioned as his
mother and brother reached the table where he sat with Polly and Audra around
four.
“Laura’s with Hope at Doc Merar’s,” Victoria answered calmly.
“Why wasn’t I sent for?!!”
“It’s Hope, Nick, not Laura.”
“Oh. .. What happened?”
“She was hurt breaking up a fight between two of her students.”
“That’s terrible,” said Polly with concern.
“Oh no,” exclaimed Audra.
“What’s this I heard about Hope being hurt?” Jarrod asked as he approached.
“Couldn’t walk,” Heath commented. “I di’n’t think she fell that hard on the
steps, even with that boy landin’ on her, but guess it was harder than it
looked.” Polly paled a bit.
“Do you remember which leg was hurt?” she asked quietly.
“Her left.”
“You know somethin’ ‘bout this, Pollygirl?”
“Yes, I do. Poor dear.” She looked up to expectant faces. “Oh, alright. But
this goes no farther than our table, agreed?”
“Yes,” Jarrod spoke for them as everyone nodded their agreement.
“She probably wouldn’t want me to say, but she may need help and a little
leeway. Guess there’s no getting around this. You know that Hope worked in her
uncle’s tavern? Her brother and sister work there now, and her older brother
worked there when she did. One night her brother had to stay late, and Hope
started home by herself. Now, her parents weren’t ignorant of the dangers of
being Irishers, so they armed their children, and taught them to be careful. It
was dreadful, really. So unfair to them. Why, in my lifetime, they burnt down
that convent. Terrible.”
“Polly?” Nick reminded gently.
“Sorry. Well, she was walking home alone. A man came out of an alley, drunk,
and assaulted her. She managed to fight him off before he could... do any more
harm. She knocked him down and began to run, but he tripped her with his
walking stick and then used it on her. He hurt her leg badly; the handle ripped
through it with terrible force. She managed to grab the gun in her bag and shot
him. Sean came running, helped her up, and they told everything to the police
before they got her to a doctor. She was in bed for a week just from the blood
loss, and couldn’t walk much at all for two months. Had to use a cane for quite
a while. I know it bothers her sometimes, though she’s stubborn. It’s one of
those things that can’t ever be really fixed.”
**************
Fifty minutes later, Laura sat holding Hope’s hand as her cousin slowed her
breathing after the last painful test. She had sat amazed at the quiet
resilience and lack of complaints.
“Alright, Hope. You’re done. Care to reconsider telling me exactly how you
ended up with a thigh torn by the handle on a walking stick?”
“No. Thank you.”
“There’s nothing I can do for it, Hope, though I expect you know that.”
“Indeed I do.”
“You’ll need to use a cane. I have several here. Have to find a small one, but
I’m sure I’ve got one.”
“No need. I have mine.” She turned to her cousin. “Laura, would you mind
getting it? It’s in the corner near the desk.”
“Of course. Don’t let her give you any guff, Doc.” Laura left the room.
“Hope, I don’t suppose you’re going to listen to what I tell you?”
“Of course I’ll listen.”
“You know what I meant.”
“I’ll listen. I’ve been through this before. There’s nothing you can do.
There’s not much I can do. Rest. Use a cane. I do appreciate it, doctor, but I
know I’m stuck and therefore I’m just going to do what I know, which probably won’t
make you to happy but will definitely make me content.”
“Well, you said it yourself. I can give advice, but you’re the one that lives
with it.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s gonna hurt a lot.”
“It’s going to hurt like hell to be precise.” He chuckled.
“True enough. Just how are you related to Laura?”
“Cousins.”
“You could be sisters.”
“I have a lot of those, all younger. Guess I adopted Laura as a big sister when
she visited.”
“Well, when she comes back with that cane, you can go.”
“Damn,” she muttered. She looked up and saw he’d heard it. “Sorry, Doctor.” He
smiled. “I was looking forward to dancing tonight.” He laid a tender hand on
her shoulder.
“Sorry.”
“It’s alright. I already promised to help with the punchbowl anyway.”
“Atta girl.” Hope smiled kindly at the man.
“Thanks so much.”
************************
Hope sat perched on a barstool behind the refreshment table, thanking the
heavens she hadn’t spilled the punch or broken any glasses. She looked at the
dance longingly. The ladies of Stockton had tastefully organized the dance
floor. The floor was only well compounded dirt, but it was swept and organized
and soft to step upon. The periphery was bound by with large poles having rope
strung between them, and lanterns held in place by careful knotting gave a soft
ethereal glow to a waning autumn eve. The yellow glow gave a pleasant hue to
the pale pinks and blues found on the town’s ladies and near ladies. Hope
sighed, thinking of her own dark dress. She loved dancing, and she’d promised
both Jarrod and Heath dances, and even old Mr. Jenkins had made her promise to
give him “a whirl ‘round the floor.” Enough of that, she scolded herself.
You’ve had a wonderful day, Hope Dougherty, and there’ll be other dances,
plenty of ‘em.
“Hello, Hope,” Audra said, sweet and kindhearted as ever. At the lack of
answer, she continued, “Hope?” The girl in question shook her head as if to
loosen the trance surrounding her.
“Oh, I’m sorry Audra.”
“You were a million miles away.”
“I was just thinking.. about the dance.”
“Isn’t it lovely? I’m sorry you can’t dance. Laura mentioned how much you love
it.”
“Thank you. It’s alright, though. How are you? I noticed quite a few dances
with a certain young man.”
“I’ve been having a lovely evening, thank you.” Hope laughed cheerily at the
dodge.
“Fine, then. You may keep your confidences for now, but I’ll be hearing about
it later, whether you tell me or not.” Audra joined her in laughter.
“I’ll tell you everything. Well, I should get back. I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks for coming by.”
*******
Laura and Nick sat down from a dance tiredly. She looked across the dance floor
where she could just see her cousin’s small form. She looked down a few seats
to where her brother-in-law sat, then stood up rather suddenly.
“Nick, sweetheart, would you excuse me for a minute?”
“Huh? Oh,” he grunted. “Well, okay, but I wanna dance again soon.”
“We’ll dance again. I just want to get some punch. Heath?”
“Yeah, Laura?”
“Come with me?”
“Hey, he gets to come with you and I don’t?” Nick questioned.
“Yes. We’re going to bring back some punch. You worked so hard all day; I
thought I could get it for you, but I need someone to come.”
“Okay I guess,” he mumbled.
Heath stood to join her. Halfway there, he spoke.
“Laura, what are ya up to?” She eyed him suspiciously, weighing what she should
say.
“You’re friends with Hope, right?”
“Yes.”
“And Hope loves to dance.”
“Didn’t know that, but I trust you do.”
“I do.”
“So what are we doin’? She can’t dance, Laura; not with that leg.”
“Yes, she can.”
“Now hold on––”
“Just wait. I’m not going to do anything that would hurt her.” She sighed in
exasperation. “Heath, I remember as a little girl my mother would try to teach
me to dance. I was very young and not very skilled at the time. My father
wasn’t much of a dancer himself, but she wanted me to learn. I was small,
Heath, and so she’d let me stand on her feet as we danced.”
“And?”
“And I certainly can’t do that for my cousin, but I want her to have a good
time. She might look happy, but I can tell she wishes she were dancing.”
“And so I’m supposed to do what your mother did?”
“Please, Heath? She’ll love it. And I’ll bake you more raisin bread if you do.”
“I’d do it anyway. Now that you mention it, raisin bread would be nice, though.”
“It’s yours.”
“Why me?”
“What?”
“Why not Jarrod?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll make him do it later. Maybe I’ll make Nick do it
later.”
“That’s a recipe for trouble.”
“I don’t think so. She likes him, despite everything, and I think he’s starting
to like her, too. I’ll just help things along.”
“You sure Hope’ll go along with this?” Heath questioned, again cautious.
“Of course she will. After all, she said it herself: she’s not an invalid. Now
come along.” Laura grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the refreshments.
“Laura, Heath,” Hope greeted. “Care for some punch?”
“Well, yes,” Laura replied, “but no.”
“Yes but no. Interesting concept, L.”
“I’m going to be taking over the table for you, dearie.”
“And why ever would you do that, cousin mine?”
“Because you’re going dancing.” Hope blushed furiously.
“I can’t,” she spake forcefully yet softly. “Besides,” she continued louder, “I
promised to watch the table.”
“Is it going somewhere? I said I’d mind it for you.”
“Nick’ll have your head, and probably mine as well.”
“No he won’t. Just go dance.” Hope’s hands flew to her hips.
“How?” she questioned defiantly.
“Heath’s volunteered to let you borrow his feet.” Hope raised an eyebrow in
suspicion.
“Volunteered or was coerced?”
“I volunteered, Hope. After all, you did promise me a dance. Cain’t break a
promise.”
“No one has explained to me how I’m going to dance. Borrowing feet? Sounds
sickly morbid.”
“No, no, no!” broke in Laura. “Remember growing up? Uncle Mick would let us
stand on his feet to dance, just like my mother did for me. You can do the same
thing.”
At Hope’s quizzical look, Heath added, “It’ll be fine. Come on, girl. I
mightn’t be the best dancer, but I can do alright. We’ll have some fun.”
“And you can go back to fruit punch misery afterwards,” added Laura.
“Alright,” she replied with a laugh. “I’ll have you know, though, Laura, I
haven’t spilled more than six drops of punch, and have broken no glasses.”
“My goodness!” Laura exclaimed in feigned shock. “Good thing we arrived when we
did, Heath; this girl’s murder on glasses. Now, off with you!”
*******
Nick had just escaped from a conversation with a neighbor about crops and
realized Laura still hadn’t returned. Standing up, he stretched, then craned
his neck to glance about the dance floor. She sat where her cousin previously
had, and was exchanging polite words with punch-drinking couples. Nick rotated
his neck, then made his way to the table.
“Laura, what are you doing serving drinks?”
“Oh, hello, Nick. I offered to take over for a bit so Hope could do some
dancing.”
“How can she dance?”
“Look and see.”
“See what? She’s shorter than you are. I don’t see her at all.”
“Oh, Nick! She’s dancing with Heath at the moment.” At Nick’s glaring request
for further information, she continued. “She stands on their feet, and they go
slowly.”
“And how did THAT start?”
“It was my idea. You see, she really does love to dance. And Heath was willing
to do it, and others just picked up on the same idea. She’s pretty popular, you
know. Jarrod danced once, too, and even Mr. Jenkins tried it. She’s so small,
no one minds.”
“Then I guess we won’t be dancing anymore?”
“No, it’s getting late.”
“Too bad; we’ll just have to push back the furniture in our room,” he said,
with a wicked grin. Laura’s mouth formed a coy, welcoming smile.
“What can we do for music?”
“I’m sure we’ll think of something.” Placing his arm around her waist, he
hugged her tightly and snuggled his face in her hair.
“Look at those two, Nick.”
“Who two?”
“Heath and Hope, silly.”
“What about ‘em?”
“Don’t they look sweet?”
“Not as sweet as someone I know.”
“Aww. But Nick, don’t they look sweet?”
“I guess so.”
“She fits so well.”
“I told you she was a tidbit.” Laura laughed.
“I suppose you’ll call her that all the time now?”
“Yeah, I think I will.”
“Well, at least it’s better than ‘tramp’,” Laura replied teasingly.
“Enough of that, woman! Why are you thinking about them anyway? We’re gonna
have a baby, Laura.” She sighed contentedly.
“I’m so happy.”
“Me, too.”
“What are we going to name it?”
“Well, Junior, of course.”
“I’m not naming my daughter Nick.”
“Oh, it’s a girl, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I know what we shouldn’t name her, then.”
“What?”
“Laura.” She swatted his arm. “What? I have enough trouble with one Laura. I
can’t take a second.”
“I think if it’s a boy we should name him Heath.”
“Heath? My brother over me? No way, woman. It’s Nick Barkley, Jr., boy or
girl.” She smiled at him and he laughed.
“I can’t wait for the baby, Nick.”
“Neither can I. I could shoot Gruber for telling it like that.”
“So could I.”
“We’ll take care of that tomorrow.” They said nothing for a few moments as the
soft strains of a slow dance relaxed with them into each other.
“Oh, Nick. I love you so much, sweetheart.” He kissed her behind her ear.
“I love you, too. Come on, let’s go home a little early. Mother’ll understand.
Dance’s almost over anyway.”
“What about the table?”
“I don’t care about it. The only table I care about is the dinner table, and
I’m not hungry for food right now.” She smiled
“Thanks, Nick. Time for our own dance.” Arm in arm, they walked out of the soft
glowing circle and to the carriage in the darkness.
*********************