Page 6 of Hank and Elsie
The new Mrs. Norton wore a fashionable gown in a shade between yellow and orange—almost the color of a sunset—with leg-of-mutton sleeves and twice as much yardage in her skirt as Ma had in hers. She wore plump, amber beads in her ears and around her neck. Elsie wondered if any of the beads had leaves inside like Ma’s pendant.
Seeing Delia Norton’s elegance made Elsie wish she could have witnessed the woman in her bridal finery. The Baileys had missed the Norton wedding due to spring planting.
Rain had kept them indoors on many days, so when the weather cleared—at least for the most part—all five of them labored in the fields and the garden from early morning to late at night. In addition to their already cultivated acreage, Pa had plowed an extra field out of the tough prairie grass, using their neighbors’ oxen. In exchange, the Baileys took care of the Smithsons’ livestock while they attended the wedding. Pa thought he’d gotten the better of that bargain. Elsie didn’t agree, although she wasn’t foolish enough to say so.
The next day, Elsie had gone with Pa to drive back the oxen, and they’d stayed for tea and cookies.
Mrs. Smithson had returned home with plenty of details about the wedding and the reception, which Pa only listened to for politeness’s sake. But Elsie had eagerly absorbed every word.
The Smithsons also subscribed to theSweetwater Springs Herald, and then, after reading the newspaper, they passed it on to their neighbors. Sometimes the information was weeksold by the time theHeraldreached the Baileys. Elsie read the account of the Nortons’ wedding several times and studied the accompanying photographs, noting all the details of the gown, copied from aFrenchdesigner. But reading the article wasn’t the same as being there. How she’d wished she could have seen the gown with her own eyes!
Ma went first to greet the newlyweds, extending a hand to Delia Norton and including Reverend Joshua in her social smile. “We met last summer. We’re the Baileys. I’m Anne and this is my husband, Richard. Our children, Elsie, Ricky, and Mary.”
Pa, never a talkative man, only nodded a greeting.
The bride’s smile was genuine and charming. “Yes, Mrs. Bailey, I remember. We spoke of your plans for your farm.”
Elsie usually found the endless discussions of crops that passed for conversation among her family and their neighbors tedious and tended to close her ears after a few minutes. Now she wondered if the woman was telling the truth.How can the new Mrs. Norton remember a family she only met twice and recall a tiresome mention of crops? But she’s a minister’s wife, which means she can’t fib.
Mrs. Norton must have caught the expression on Elsie’s face, for her smile turned impish. “I heard plenty aboutothercrops but growing tobacco in Montana was a first.”
“Why, yes,” Ma said, her expression softening with obvious pleasure. “We just finished the planting. Tobacco is a new crop for us, and we can’t risk more than one field.” She glanced at Pa and then back. “Congratulations on your wedding. We’re so sorry we couldn’t attend.”
“Of course,” Delia Norton said in an understanding tone. “It’s hard to get away during planting season.” She turned to Elsie and held out her hand in greeting.
Initially, Elsie was only going to smile and say hello. She changed her mind, recalling that if she was old enough to wed,then she was a young lady and no longer a child, who should be seen and not heard. “The photo of you in the newspaper was ever so lovely.”
The bride’s hazel eyes sparkled. “Thank you. Reverend Joshua and I had the most wonderful day.”
Elsie would have liked to chat more. But a nudge on her back from Ma reminded her other people were lined up behind them, waiting to greet the younger Nortons.
Hurrying up the steps, she entered the church, still looking at dresses. When the sister of the town banker and hotel owner stopped to greet the shopkeepers, Mr. and Mrs. Cobb, sitting at the end of a pew, Elsie slowed her steps to peruse Mrs. Grayson’s outfit of shimmering mauve.
The elegant woman appeared as beautifully attired as Delia Norton. With a nod to the Cobbs, Mrs. Grayson took the arm of her tall handsome son, Ben, a year or so younger than Elsie, and paraded up the center aisle.
Her gaze on the lace of Mrs. Grayson’s balloon sleeves and hem and breathing in the spicy-rose scent that trailed in her wake, Elsie followed. She paused near a pew, about two thirds back on the right, in the general location the family usually sat.
While she waited for the rest of them to catch up, Elsie raised her eyes to the front of the church and gasped, freezing in place at the beauty of the stained-glass window. The newspaper reported the window was installed by Andre Bellaire to commemorate his daughter’s marriage, but the black and white photo she’d seen in the newspaper hadn’t done justice to the rich colors.I could stare at that window all day.
Ma frowned and nudged her to move into the pew.
Elsie wanted to rebel, to throw off Ma’s controlling hand. Instead, she moved into the pew, took a seat, and proceeded to study the window.
From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother throw her a reproving glance.
Repressing a sigh, Elsie looked down, resentment making her chest tight.If Ma thinks I’m old enough to marry, why can’t she leave me alone? Enjoying the beauty of that window isn’t a sin.
Not for the first time, she wondered how her practical parents could have given birth to such a dreamer.They probably wonder the same thing.If I didn’t have their brown eyes, I’d think fairies switched me at birth.
CHAPTER 3
More slicked up than he’d been since he was a young boy and his grandmother had taken a scrub brush to his skin, early Sunday morning, Hank stood outside the white, steepled church. He wore his best shirt, leather vest, and trousers, pressed as well as a bachelor could wield an iron, and had swapped his comfortable Stetson for a bowler. But as a gust of wind tipped the hat forward, he found himself regretting the decision and quickly straightened it back in place.
Hank watched the congregation—particularly ladies on the younger end of the age spectrum—parade by. Filled with anticipation, he had a hard time standing still and only nodding or saying “howdy” to folks.
Today, he’d initially planned to observe and perhaps single out some pretty females on which to set his sights. But as more people strolled past, mostly in families, couples, or men individually and in cowboy groups, some of Hank’s enthusiasm began to ebb. So far, no suitable candidates passed him, or if they did, he couldn’t tell if they were available.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
