Page 45 of Hank and Elsie
Pride filled her, along with a humble sense of gratitude for providing him with such a useful gift. Elsie had to blink to clear the moisture blurring her vision. She glanced at her mother.
Ma stood, as if frozen, one hand covering her mouth, the other balled up in her apron. She, too, cried. She lifted the bottom corner of her apron and wiped her eyes, her countenance looking as soft as Elsie had ever seen.
Both Mary and Ricky sat on a bench, shoulders touching, leaning into each other as if needing to be propped up.
“I don’t know what to say, Daughter.” His voice sounded thick with emotion. Once again, he ran his hand over the supple leather. “This is too much. You bought an expensive pair.”
“I don’t owe the mercantile a cent.” Before he could judge her, Elsie rushed out the explanation. “I made my own money embroidering handkerchiefs and a dress for Mrs. Sanders, working in the evenings and on my time off. Miss Taylor saidthat since the money wasn’t part of my wages, of which I’d agreed to give you half, that I could use the funds for how I wanted. And I wanted you to have boots that would last for years.”
Ma walked over to give Elsie a tight hug before kissing her cheek and releasing her. “You have no idea how much I’ve fretted over your father’s need for boots and what we’d do when the leather wore completely through. He kept putting other needs before his. To have this off my mind—” She sniffed back more tears.
Pa tapped his forehead. “Will give you plenty of space in there to fret about other things, my dear,” he said in a droll tone, his expression amused.
They all laughed and then watched eagerly as he removed his old boots and put on the new ones. Standing, he strode around the room, stamped a few times, and did a sashay side-step. With a grin, he bent to kiss Elsie’s forehead. “I thank you, Daughter. These will last me a lifetime. I’ll be buried in these boots.”
“I hope not, Pa.” Elsie laughed. “You’d better wear out plenty of other pairs before we bury you.”
He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek and smiled tenderly.
Elsie inhaled, breathing in the smell of straw. She clung to the image of her father’s face, so rarely seen in lighter moments. She’d given him the boots, yes. But she’d also given them all those moments of love and levity and, in so doing, made a memory that would live in her heart forever.
Hank feltgrateful he only had to experience three days of work at the Smithson farm, before they could bring in the harvest and transfer their attention to the Baileys’ acreage. Even better would be, when they’d completely finished with the harvest and their neighbors could return home.
He didn’t like how the Smithsons treated the Baileys, as if the more well-to-do family were the squires of the prairie and the Baileys were their lowly tenants. Nothing overt. Perhaps nothing needed to be overt because the two families obviously had a long-established pattern.
On the first day Hank and Brian arrived, some probing questions from the matriarch led to Mrs. Smithson discovering Hank’s upper-class background and that Brian was a writer, even if he’donlywritten dime novels. The information elevated them to guests of honor status. Neither of them liked being fawned over, but the attentions of the Smithsons proved hard to escape.
Even worse, Hank constantly had to dodge the attentions of the youngest Smithson daughter, Henrietta, who was all of fifteen years old, lank-haired and plain. Yet she seemed determined to catch herself a husband and, unfortunately had set her sights on Hank. Her mother encouraged the girl’s intentions, several times finding excuses for Henrietta and Hank to be alone.
Luckily, each time, Hank had been able to loop someone else, usually one of the Baileys or Brian, into joining them to chaperone. From a few quietly pointed remarks, the Bailey family and his friend could tell what was happening and were just as eager to protect him from falling into Henrietta’s clutches as he was to escape them.
Brian mostly avoided the chit’s attentions, because his grumpiness tended to silence her, and even more so because her brothers were enamored of the idea of his friend’s writtentales of derring-do. They pestered him for information about past stories as well as offered ideas for future books. None of the suggestions made Brian’s green eyes light up in the way that meant he was on the trail of a plot.
But with Brian also a quarry of Henrietta and her brothers meant that his friend couldn’t provide the diversion Hank needed to escape and spend some courting time with Elsie. He saw her at meals, but they were never alone.
Hank especially disliked the few times before and after a meal when he’d seen Mrs. Smithson dictate Elsie fetch and carry for her when her older daughters and daughters-in-law sat nearby watching over babies sleeping in cradles at their feet or working on their stitchery. None of them had also put in a hard day in the fieldsandhelped prepare the mealandclean up.
He’d interceded for Elsie once, fetching a heavy bushel of potatoes from the cellar. But he wasn’t familiar with the layout of the large home and the possessions therein, so he wouldn’t know where to find a requested shawl or thimble or dish the woman demanded.
Even worse was how little time he spent in Elsie’s presence, even with others around. He was dispatched to scythe hay, and, in a separate field, she, her sister, and the younger Smithson’s, dug up root vegetables. When he did see her, she appeared dirt-smeared and looked weary to the bone. Yet, somehow, she always dredged up a bright smile for him—one that never failed to stir his heart.
On the last night of working at the Smithsons’, Hank and Brian came in before the other men, having finished raking up the dried hay in the nearest field. They washed up outside and entered the house for supper.
The smell of fried chicken made Hank’s stomach grumble.
Brian shot him a crooked smile. “At least they feed us well,” he said in a low voice.
The rest of the men drifted into the room.
Having apparently come to terms with Hank’s disinterest in her, Henrietta abandoned the women working in the kitchen to enter the main room. She set her sights on Brian, hastening over to him with what was surely meant to be a flirtatious smile, that didn’t look well on her round, childish face.
Brian backed away.
With a coquettish flutter, Henrietta pressed forward to cling to his arm. Her smile broadened, showing big teeth. She said something in her breathy voice, staring up at the man as if he was God Almighty.
Knowing she couldn’t do much damage with people in the room, Hank allowed himself to watch with amusement.
Brian sent Hank a wide-eyed look of appeal.
