Authors: Shirley Raye Redmond
Amanda's Beau (4 page)
Mrs. Johnson drew herself up to her full height and informed her, "I'm here to talk business, but a body can't think straight with that beast snarling and growling and baring its teeth." She glared at Bonita with fierce disapproval.
Amanda glanced down at the dog, standing by Rex's side. She was not baring her teeth or snarling either. But she was growling a bit. Amanda couldn't blame the poor dog. She felt like growling too.
"You're afraid of my dog, aren't you?" Rex guessed.
"Of course not," Mrs. Johnson insisted with a huff. Her complexion assumed a deep, ugly red color. "Animals bring dirt and germs into the house. It's no wonder your poor mother is dying and the baby is ill."
This time Rex flushed red, but before he could say anything he might be sorry for later, Amanda called his name and tipped her head in the direction of the kitchen door. "Take Bonita outside." Her firm tone discouraged any argument from him.
Rex clenched his jaw. "Yes, ma'am." To the dog, he said, "C'mon, girl. Let's go out." He held the door open, and Bonita obediently followed him outside onto the porch.
Mrs. Johnson sighed with relief. "There now," she said, tugging her shawl more closely around her plump shoulders. Without waiting for an invitation, she plopped down into one of the kitchen chairs. Amanda and Dolores exchanged cautious glances.
"Naturally, I came to see how your sister was getting on too," Mrs. Johnson said with a sniff. "When Mrs. Martinez told me you were out gallivanting with Gilbert Gladney and his passel of school children, I was surprised, mighty surprised. But then, I guess there's nothing you can do for Ella now, considering how ill she is. Just keep her clean and comfortable⦠until the end comes."
"Señora Stewart is not going to die, gracias al Señor!" Dolores exclaimed.
"My sister is getting stronger every day," Amanda added. She hoped â she prayed â it was true.
"Fiddlesticks!" Mrs. Johnson snapped back. Casting a frown at Dolores, who still hovered uncertainly in the doorway, she said, "I had hoped to find you at home alone so we could talk business."
"I wasn't aware we had any business to discuss," Amanda replied, placing the empty egg bowl beside the sink.
"Well, yes, we do," Mrs. Johnson told her. "I want to talk about your property here. Sit down, why don't you?"
Amanda hesitated. She didn't want to sit down and encourage the annoying woman to stay any longer than necessary. But she was tired and wanted to get the conversation over with. So she sat.
Dolores bustled over to the stove and poured her a cup of coffee. Amanda looked up, thanked her with a smile and took a heartening swallow. She noticed Dolores had not poured a cup for Mrs. Johnson, but she wasn't going to chastise her kind neighbor for not being hospitable.
"I'm not sure I can be of any help to you, Mrs. Johnson," Amanda said in a weary tone. "I know little about my late brother-in-law's business, and my sister, as you must know, isn't well enough to discuss such matters. What is it you want to talk about?"
"Why, I want to buy the land â house, barn, chickens, and all."
Rex burst in through the door and exclaimed, "Our property isn't for sale!"
Amanda guessed he'd been eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time. His face was flushed with anger. His eyes glistened and his chest heaved. She could hear Bonita whimpering outside on the porch.
Mrs. Johnson narrowed her eyes at Rex. Pursing her lips with sour disapproval, she said, "Young man, I was speaking to your aunt."
"But why talk to Aunt Mandy about it?" Rex demanded. "The land's not hers to sell, not the house either or any of it."
"What Rex says is true," Amanda told her.
"Yes, but surely⦠in the circumstances⦠well, I can hardly make the boy an offer to buy the place," Mrs. Johnson replied. "This is a business matter for adults to talk about."
"Certainly," Amanda agreed, "but you'd have to talk with Ella, and she's in no condition at present to talk about selling anything."
"Our home is not for sale," Rex said with firm resolve.
The widow shrugged. "Not today, perhaps. But whenâ¦" Trailing off, she glanced back over her shoulder in the direction of the corridor. "But when the time comes, after your ma dies, I want to buy the place right off."
"My mother is not going to die," Rex argued between gritted teeth. His cheeks flamed, his lower lip quivered.
Hearing the baby's faint cry from the other room, Amanda rose from her chair and placed a comforting hand upon Rex's shoulder. "As far as I know, my sister has no plans to sell the place nor any need to. This is her home. Why should she sell and move? I think you should go now, Mrs. Johnson. It will be getting dark soon. You shouldn't be out riding alone."
"I was just trying to be neighborly," the woman sniffed, as she hauled herself to her feet. "To offer help in your time of need."
"We don't need your kind of help!" Rex snapped. Amanda tightened her grip on his shoulder; a gesture intended to warn him to be quiet. She could feel his body quivering with emotion. Her nephew was tempted to say something hateful to the wretched woman, she guessed, and he appeared more than ready to chase her out of the house and off their property. Amanda couldn't blame him. She longed to do the same. The woman was crude, thoughtless, and unspeakably cruel.
Mrs. Johnson hesitated at first, seemingly reluctant to leave without having concluded her business to her satisfaction. Minnie's cries grew louder, and Dolores quickly disappeared to see to the baby's needs. Amanda made her way to the kitchen door and opened it for the widow with stiff politeness. She should thank her for coming. Good manners dictated as much, but the words stuck in her throat. Bonita bounded into the house through the open door, nearly knocking the unwanted visitor over in her haste to reach the crying baby in the other room. Rex darted into the corridor after the dog, casting a scathing glance at Mrs. Johnson as he did so.
"Well, I never!" the woman exclaimed, hurrying outside. Pausing on the porch, she said, "That wretched dog! How long has the boy had it? I think I've seen it somewhere before."
Amanda felt a clutch of fear. She couldn't bear it if someone came looking for the scraggly, red dog. Especially now. Rex loved Bonita with all his young and wounded heart. "Rex and Bonita are like peas in pod," she replied, careful to avoid answering the woman's question. "You've probably seen them together in town or in the school yard."
Beulah Johnson gave a snort as she mounted her horse from the top step. "Good night, Amanda Dale," she said. "We'll postpone our discussion until another day. I'm guessing it won't be too many more weeks when you'll be seeking me out. In these hard times, you'll be lucky to find another buyer. It's not prime farmland, don't you know?"
"Good night, Mrs. Johnson," Amanda said in a dismissive tone. She was not sad to see her go.
"Is she gone yet?" Rex asked when she joined him in the bedroom where Bonita stood guard over the whimpering baby. With a smile, Dolores excused herself to check on Ella in the next room.
"You're a good dog," Amanda said, patting Bonita on the head. The dog wagged her crooked tail. "Yes, Mrs. Johnson is gone."
"Maybe I'll run down the road after her. I'll throw rocks or eggs or something at her and her ugly old horse."
"You'll do no such thing, Rex Stewart!" Amanda chastised. "Go say hello to your mama. We'll eat soon, but I need to feed Minnie first." Picking up the baby in the pan, she returned with her to the toasty kitchen. An open can of milk was already warming in a pan of water on the stove.
"Won't you stay for supper, Dolores?" she asked, when she noticed her donning her jacket and hat. The woman shook her head and said her husband was expecting her. Amanda stepped forward to give her kind neighbor a warm embrace. "Thank you so much for coming today. I can't tell you how grateful I am."
Smiling, Dolores shrugged off Amanda's gratitude. "It was worth it to see you return home with the roses in your cheeks, querida. But tell me, is your sister, the poor mamacita, is she having money troubles?"
"I don't know," Amanda admitted as she tied on her apron. "There has been a letter from the bank, but I didn't read it carefully, and I don't know much about my late brother-in-law's business affairs. I've been so busy with Ella and the baby andâ¦"
With a ragged sigh, she let her statement trail away, unfinished. Sometimes she felt she would suffocate with the overwhelming responsibilities that had been thrust upon her following Randall Stewart's accidental death. She tried not to think about the situation too long at any one moment for fear she would burst into tears and never stop crying.
"I am sorry," Dolores said. "I will pray for you." She wrapped her arms around Amanda again and held her close. Amanda hugged her back, silently thanking God for this good, kind, and thoughtful neighbor.
After Dolores had gone, Amanda fed Minnie with the medicine dropper at the kitchen table. She was amazed at the infant's physical perfection. Everything from her tiny pink feet to her small curling fingers appeared just as they should be â only in miniature. She rolled the baby over on her side and patted her back gently until Minnie burped. As she studied the baby's features, Amanda felt certain Minnie resembled Rex more every day. Something about the mouth and eyes and the little chin. She could hear Rex in his mother's room, talking to Ella. She guessed he was regaling her with an account of the day's adventure at the old Indian ruins. Wiping her hands on her apron, Amanda stepped quietly into the hall and stood outside the bedroom door, listening.
"I know the secret money jar is empty," Rex was saying. "But if that's why you're sick, then it's okay. You can get better now. I'm going to refill the jar. Mr. Gladney has a friend, an archeologist, who's going to come to town to dig up the old ruins. He'll have to hire men, and I'm going to be one of them. I can work in the mornings before school and after school too and on Saturdays. So the money jar will be filled again," he boasted, "and all you have to do is get well. Aunt Mandy is taking care of Minnie, and Bonita is taking care of me, and I'm taking care of the chickens, so there's nothing to worry about any more, Mama. All right? Mama? Please."
Amanda choked back a sob and returned to the kitchen, dabbing her eyes with the hem of her apron.
****
Gil had been reluctant to leave Amanda Dale to face her unwelcome visitor alone. He'd heard the hostility in young Rex's tone and seen how Amanda had straightened her shoulders with resolve before entering the house. But what could he do? He had to return Jerry and Sammy and the Schwarzkopf sisters to their homes and thank Mr. Schwarzkopf for the use of the buckboard.
He'd recognized the old swayback roan as the one belonging to Beulah Johnson. She was a rude, scrappy woman who had exasperated three husbands into early graves. The last one â Ezra Johnson â had been buried just six months before. Johnson had been on the school board that hired him a year ago, and Gil remembered what a short, skinny man he'd been, with a thin voice as dry and brittle as the pages of an old book.
Of course, Johnson hadn't talked much â Beulah didn't give him much of a chance. Everyone knew she'd ridden roughshod over her husband. Gil just hoped the annoying widow wasn't doing the same now to Amanda Dale. Why had she come calling, he wondered? To buy eggs? To be neighborly? Perhaps she wanted to gawk at the tiny infant Amanda so resourcefully kept tucked into a large roasting pan for safekeeping?
"Mr. Gladney, can we come back to the ruins sometime and draw pictures of it?" Greta asked, interrupting his troubled reverie.
"It's may we come back," he corrected her, "and yes, it's a good idea, Greta."
"Can we⦠I mean⦠may we come back on a school day next time?" Sammy asked hopefully. He stood in the back of the wagon, pressing forward against Gil's shoulder, eager for a response.
Gil laughed. "Why not? We'll need to plan the outing before the weather turns."
And he certainly planned to ask Amanda Dale if she would join them again. He wished he could help the young woman in her time of trouble. But what could he do? "Lord in Heaven, if there is something I can do to relieve her burden, show me what it is," he prayed silently, giving the reins another flick.
After dropping Sammy off at his family's small farm and Jerry too, Gil made his way to the village and the Schwarzkopf's general store. The girls' mother greeted them warmly, clucking like a hen over her returning chicks. She also invited Gil to stay for supper.
"I make schweinshaxe, weinkraut, and potato dumplings. Is goot!" she assured him with a wide smile. "You stay. Eat." Greta and Gertrude looked at him with bright, hopeful faces.
Gil didn't know what weinkraut was or schweinshaxe, but the potato dumplings sounded promising, and he was hungry. Besides, the German housewives in the village had a reputation for being fine cooks.
"Thank you, Mrs. Schwarzkopf. I'd like to. But first I need to send a telegram. I'll come right back and take care of the horse and wagon."
"You go, then you come to eat," she said, shooing him away. "Karl will do horse and wagon. Girls, come. You set table."
Gil touched the brim of his hat and made his way to the telegraph office. He arrived just before closing. "You're the last customer of the day, Mr. Gladney," Hiram Lister told him with a hint of disapproval. His thick, drooping red mustache gave him a stern demeanor.
"I'll make it quick, Mr. Lister," Gil promised. He reached for the form and began scribbling his message to Nate. He needed to be brief. Telegrams were pricey. Even if he used only ten words or less, it was going to cost him about fifty or sixty cents to send a telegram to Indianapolis. A letter would have been sufficient, Gil supposed, but the sooner Nate came out and saw the ruins for himself, the sooner he'd start excavating. And the sooner the excavations got underway, the sooner he could start earning more money to put toward the ranch he was saving for.
There would be no shortage of cash-strapped farmers willing to hire on and help with the digging. Gil wished he could think of some way Amanda Dale could benefit from the excavation too. He guessed she could use some extra money to help with doctor bills and other expenses.
After writing out his message, he gave Lister the form and fished out two quarters and a nickel from his pocket. He hoped Nate Phillips was at home and not on foreign soil in the middle of another excavation. "Thanks, Mr. Lister, and good evening to you," Gil said as he took his leave. He paused in the open doorway and said, "By the way, your granddaughter is a fine student. She's likely to win the school spelling bee next month. It wouldn't surprise me one bit."
Lister beamed. Even his moustache seemed to perk up. "That's our Caroline â bright as a new penny," he replied.
"Indeed, she is," Gil agreed and took his leave, satisfied knowing he'd smoothed some ruffled feathers. He strode down the wooden sidewalk, admiring the sun's final blaze before it set for the evening. A short man with a hat pushed low over his face leaned against the post in front of the butcher's shop. He spit out a stream of tobacco juice, barely missing the toe of Gil's dusty boot.
"Gladney, I want to talk to you about my boy," the man drawled as he straightened and pushed his hat back.
Oz Lancaster. Gil recognized him at once. He stood there before him, his thick neck and shoulders making him appear shorter than he actually was. "This is not the time or place, Mr. Lancaster," Gil informed him. "Come by the school house on Monday after school is out. We can talk at that time." He kept walking, determined not to keep Mrs. Schwarzkopf waiting.
"I'm thinking you've been mighty hard on Ozzie," the man said, falling into step beside him. He had to be quick to keep up with Gil's long strides.
"There are some who would say I haven't been hard enough," Gil replied. "If Ozzie spent as much time on his school work as he does trying to earn a reputation as class clown, he'd be a scholar we could all be proud of."
Glancing sidelong at the angry father, Gil knew Lancaster had taken his criticism of young Ozzie as a personal affront. Pausing briefly in front of the general store where Mrs. Schwarzkopf had supper waiting upstairs, Gil said, "I'll see you Monday afternoon. The Schwarzkopfs are expecting me."
The man fixed him with a hard stare. His small, pig-eyes glinted with anger. Gil noticed too the slow, ugly scowl which swept across the man's sunburned face. In an instant, Gil knew he had made an enemy.
