Chapter Three
Trixie sat back on her heels and wiped her forehead. Resettling her hat to shade her eyes, she had just started to weed again when she heard the approach of a horse. Glancing up, her heart leapt as she recognized Jupiter, Jim’s horse. Her redheaded beau handled the feisty horse easily, even with Jupiter pulling the buggy.
“Woah, Jupe,” Jim brought him to a stop and hopped out.
Oh woe, Trixie thought. Why does he have to see me like this? I know my face is as red a baby beet and my hair must be frightful!
Jim smiled at the pretty Belden women weeding. Trixie’s face was rosy and her hair wild, but she was beautiful to him. Helen, the mother she resembled, was still a fine looking women, with the same pretty smile and flushed cheeks.
“Hello, Jim,” Helen stood and removed her gloves, smiling. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Belden. How are you today?” Jim asked as he gracefully hopped down from the buggy.
“Wonderful. Would you like a cold drink?”
“No thank you. I was actually heading to Claremore to pick up a few things, thought I’d ask if Trixie could come along.”
“Ask her,” Helen winked at Jim and excused herself.
“Oh, I’m a mess,” she said mournfully.
“Nonsense,” he smiled. “But there’s no rush, if you want to wipe that big dirt smudge off your cheek.”
Trixie’s hand flew to her face and he laughed when she made the smudge bigger.
“Here,” he took his handkerchief and stepped up to her, gently wiping her cheek, and resisting the urge to kiss her pretty mouth. He would bet money Helen and Bobby were peeking out the window of the house.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“How about that ride?” he asked.
Trixie smiled up at him.
“Sure. Let me wash up a bit.”
***
Nick dismounted from his horse, staring up the Manor House. He had seen it only from a distance before, when the Straites owned it years before. Now it had been cleaned up and refurbished, repainted white outside.
A tall, broad shouldered man with red hair approached him. Nick knew he had seen the man in church, but wasn’t sure who he was. Brother maybe? He had the same red hair as Mr. Wheeler, but Nick thought there was only one Wheeler child.
“Hello, I’m Regan. You Nicholas?” Regan held out his hand.
"Yes. Nick, please,” Nicholas shook it.
“Go on in,” Regan gestured to the door. “I’ll take your horse.”
“Thank you,” Nick said nervously, walking up the staircase. The front door opened and pretty young woman with blonde hair in a plain but well tailored dark dress with a white apron stepped out.
“Good afternoon Mr. Roberts,” she said politely. “Miss Wheeler is waiting for you.”
Nick took off his hat, trying not to gape at the luxurious decorations, paintings, carpets, vases and furniture as he followed the maid to an elegant room. Madeleine sat on a dark green brocade setee, working a piece of embroidery. Light filtered in from a large paneled window, casting a warm glow over her hair and silhouette. Her dress today was pale green with white ribbons inset in the bodice, and white ribbons on the cuffs and collar. Nick’s artistic eye studied the graceful curve of her neck and quick but precise, delicate stitching. He memorized as many of the details as he could for his next sketch.
“Miss Wheeler, Mr. Roberts is here,” the maid announced.
Honey looked up with a smile, set her work aside and rose. “Nicholas, I am so glad you made it! Thank you, Celia.”
“Yes, Miss.” Celia left quietly, leaving the parlour doors open, and lingering by them as chaperone.
“Please, have a seat,” Madeleine motioned to the chairs. Nick chose a deep red chair with shiny, polished dark wood, feeling he was completely underdressed and out of his element. His homespun clothing wasn’t near fine enough to be in such a luxurious setting.
“Thank you. Your house is beautiful,” he added.
“Thank you. My mother will be pleased to hear it. She chose everything.”
“I couldn’t help but notice some of the paintings and vases,” he hedged. Madeleine smiled.
“They’re all originals from Europe. Would you like a tour to see more of them?”
“Sure,” he smiled.
Honey led Nicholas through the large house as she pointed out the paintings. He recognized a number of the artists, his hazel eyes shining with joy as they discussed the artists, their conversation flowing easily. He was impressed by the amount of original pieces and fine china statuettes.
Before Madeleine knew it, Miss Trask had appeared in the hallway to invite Nicholas to stay for supper.
“Oh, thank you but I can’t. In fact,” his face reddened, “I completely lost track of time. I was enjoying this so much,” he smiled at Honey who shyly smiled back.
Several moments later, he was gone, and Madeleine looked up to see Miss Trask studying her.
“Feeling a bit conflicted, dear?” she asked gently.
Madeleine nodded.
“What if . . .” her voice trailed off.
“You’re the daughter of Matthew Wheeler. People will talk no matter what,” Miss Trask said. “However, you have no formal engagement or relationship with young Mr. Belden, and he did not ask you to wait for him, out of fairness to you both. I think it is perfectly acceptable for you to be courted by another young man unless Mr. Belden makes his affections more clearly and properly known, especially while he is away at school.”
Madeleine smiled at her governess. “You’re so smart,” she sighed. “I do care for Brian but . . .”
“He’s far away and won’t be back until Christmas, and then gone again for five more months,” Miss Trask finished. “I am quite fond of the young man but I think right now you should enjoy this time. A young lady of your stature and social standing will have numerous offers.”
“You’re right,” she nodded. “Thank you, Miss Trask.”
“Of course, dear. Supper will ready momentarily if you’d like to freshen up.”
***
Trixie studied the fabrics in the general store as Jim spoke with the owner. Several boxes were being loaded into the back of the buckboard and she didn’t want to eavesdrop on Jim’s conversation.
Her eyes wandered the store, taking in the bigger selection than Mr. Lytell’s. She didn’t go to Claremore often, sometimes accompanying Mart or her parents. It was so much bigger than her tiny little town of Winekekia. The streets were busy and almost intimidating, but Jim assured her it was still much, much tinier than Albany and New York City, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Winekekia suddenly sprouted in the coming years. It had already doubled in size since Jim and Dan arrived.
“Ready?” he was standing behind her. Shyly, she nodded, and took his arm as he led her outside. Helping her up into the buckboard, he joined her and took the reins.
They almost never discussed Dan, so Trixie was caught completely off guard when Jim asked if she had heard from him.
“I had a letter the other day,” she answered, turning her blue eyes towards him. “Do you think he’s in trouble?”
Jim shook his head. “No. Dan is the most self sufficient man I know. But he’s usually better about sending a telegram every few days. Once we didn’t hear from him for almost three weeks. Mother was frantic. He was out in the wilderness, chasing some outlaw and having the time of his life,” Jim smiled at the memory of his younger brother finally showing up, covered in dirt and blood but thrilled he caught his prey.
“He said the man he was going after was particularly nasty,” Trixie remembered.
Jim nodded. “Bigger the thrill for him,” he said absently, reaching for her gloved hand and squeezing it in hers. He didn’t really want her thinking about his brother right now, despite his earlier inquiry.
***
That evening, after the Beldens had finished supper, Bobby hollered they had a visitor. He had been out on the porch and seen the buggy drive up.
It was Mr. Stratten, the territory education supervisor. After shaking hands with Peter, he inquired about Trixie.
Trixie came from washing dishes, wiping her hands on the towel, her heart sinking when she saw Mr. Stratten’s grim expression.
“Mart, Bobby, will you two finish the dishes please?” Peter asked, in a no-nonsense voice.
Mart steered Bobby out of the room as Mr. Stratten faced Trixie.
“Beatrix, I’m sorry,” he began, and Trixie felt the weight of disappointment slide over her, “but you did not pass your teacher’s examination.”
Trixie nodded, swallowing hard, not wanting to look at her parents and see their disappointment.
“You scored very highly in all subjects except math. I’m afraid that section was enough to keep you from passing.”
“I understand,” she murmured.
“Perhaps you could take it again, later in the fall. We’ll likely be needing another school soon, with the town’s growth.”
Trixie nodded and felt her mother’s steady hand on her shoulder. She didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as her parents thanked Mr. Stratten for coming.
“May I be excused please?” she asked softly.
“Of course, dear.” Helen replied.
Trixie hurried to her room, and threw herself on the bed. Part of her had wanted to fail because she loathed the idea of teaching, but she didn’t really think she would. Now she would have to put up with not only Jane’s teasing but Mart’s as well. And what kind of a future did that leave her? she wondered. Women couldn’t run a business, other than sorting the mail. She had heard of restaurants, a place where people could order food and have it brought to them-but there wasn’t one of those around here.
Tears leaked from her eyes as she wept silently, when she heard the door open.
“Go away please,” she managed to get the words out. The door shut softly but then someone sat on the bed.
“It’s not the end of the world, Trix,” Mart said gently. Trixie wiped her eyes.
“You’re a boy, Mart. You have more options than we do. If I can’t teach, I can’t do anything.”
“Hey,” he said sharply, “that’s not true. You’re smarter than people give you credit for Trix, and you know it. Maybe Allen Pinkerton’s Agency doesn’t hire women, but that doesn’t mean that won’t change. You know about the women’s suffrage movement. You also have two extremely wealthy beaus who would gladly marry you tomorrow. And if worse comes to worse, you can stay here with me, help me run Crabapple Farm,” he said gently. “You won’t be a spinster, Trix.”
Trixie sat up, facing her almost twin brother. “I’d just be in the way, once you and Di get married and have babies.”
Mart shrugged. “We’ll need someone to help watch them, I expect. But Di can teach them.”
He grinned and Trixie swatted at him with her hand. Mart enveloped her in a big hug and Trixie rested her head against his shoulder. Sometimes Mart wasn’t so bad.
***
“Well, I know you’re disappointed Trix, but you can take the examination again,” Jim pointed out. Trixie nodded morosely as they walked along the path that would eventually lead to the Wheeler’s lake. The path was a convenient connection between the two properties, though all of the menfolk insisted none of the girls walk alone.
“I know. It’s not that I want to teach, because I really don’t, but it’s just. . . embarrassing,” she sighed.
“If math is that big a problem for you, I can help,” Jim offered. Trixie brightened.
“Really?”
“Of course. Anything for you,” he touched her chin gently, then his fingers strayed to tug on the curl that she could never get to behave.
***
After Peter said the blessing, supper at the Belden's quickly became its usual noisy affair until Helen said, "Children, we have something to tell you."
Mart and Trixie stopped arguing over the potatoes as Bobby looked up guiltily from where he had been hiding his carrots in his napkin in his lap.
Mart and Trixie glanced at each other. Another sibling on the way? Trixie hoped for something mysterious, and less noisy than another sibling.
"Your cousin Hallie is going to come stay with us for while," Helen beamed.
Trixie's excitement vanished. Not Hallie.
Halena Belden, her cousin who lived in the Nebraska Territory. Dark haired, dark eyed like Brian and Peter, she looked more like the Belden side of the family, where Trixie, Mart and Bobby resembled the blond Johnsons of her mother's family. She also raised Trixie's ire with no difficulty.
Halena Belden, who Trixie had always fought with. Whether it was over a doll, a fishing line or keeping up with all the brothers, including Halena's own two, Trixie and Halena had never gotten along.
"Really? Wow, we haven't seen her in years!" Mart enthused. Bobby was too young to remember her. Mart nudged Trixie's foot with his. "Won't it be great?"
"Of course," Trixie muttered, suddenly not hungry.
"Now Trixie, I hope you've outgrown any grudge you have towards Hallie," Peter said sternly. "She will be a guest in this house and she'll be staying in your room with you, and I expect you to treat her with love and kindness."
"Yes sir," Trixie answered, eyes down on her plate.
Cold fear gripped her heart. She had been fourteen the last time she saw Hallie. Hallie had been tall, slender and pretty then. What would she look like now at seventeen? And heaven forbid, she should be pretty enough to steal away Dan and Jim's attentions! Trixie was insecure enough about her short, sturdy frame and unruly curls, especially around her two best, and beautiful friends. If Hallie had turned into a pretty young woman, Trixie was sure she’d lose both of her suitors.
"Why is she coming? Are Cap and Knut coming too?" Mart asked. He enjoyed the company of all of his cousins.
"No, Mart, just Hallie," Peter answered. "Harold and Caroline feel it would do Hallie some good to get a change of scenery."
Trixie's eyes narrowed a bit. That didn't sound like her stern uncle. Had Hallie gotten into some sort of trouble?
"Too bad," Mart said with disappointment. "I'd love to see the boys again. It's awfully quiet with Brian gone. Dan's pretty busy with keeping the peace."
He didn't add Dan's attention to Trixie.
"Speaking of Dan, Trixie, when do the Frayne's arrive?" Helen asked
"This weekend," Trixie answered absently.
"How long are they staying dear?" Helen pressed.
"I don't know. Jim didn't seem sure. I think his father has some interest in purchasing more land out here, to build on old Mr. Frayne's property. Maybe buy up that empty land behind the Frayne Property."
"I'm looking forward to meeting him. There's a pattern of wealthy businessmen from the East buying property out here in the west, and with them comes more opportunity for growth and business," Peter said.
Mart nodded. "I overheard a couple of men talking in town the other day about wanting to change the name of the town to something less Indian and easier to pronounce."
"I heard that too," Peter answered. "In fact, it's on the agenda for tomorrow's meeting." As one of the oldest families in the tiny town, Peter was a member of the town council, which had five members.
"What's wrong with Winekekia?" Trixie asked.
"It sounds scary to Easterners," Mart replied. "They generally have the idea that the Indians are savage and scary. The lifestyle is so different it's hard for them comprehend such a simplistic view."
"Now Mart, not everyone back East thinks that way," Peter admonished his son.
"I know that sir, and I didn't mean to imply they're all like that. Jim even told me that's kind of a general attitude back East. That people have either a Romanticized vision of life out west, or they're just scared because it's such a simple life. Primitive cultures like the Indians' are just unfathomable to a lot of them. At any rate, the general consensus among the townships is that simpler names would be beneficial to attracting new people,"
"What if not everyone wants the town to grow?" Trixie asked. Mart looked surprised.
"I didn't think you'd feel that way."
"I don't," Trixie answered, "but if everyone comes west for new land, it'll fill up pretty quick, won't it?" she asked.
"That's just the nature of progress, Trixie," Peter said. "Besides, there's so much land between here and California, I don't know that it could ever really fill up."
"What names are being considered for the town?" Helen asked.
Peter shook his head. "We're all to come up with one and then vote.”
"Sleepytown," Trixie snickered, "because nothing exciting happens here!"
"Nothing exciting?" Mart demanded. "Must I be reminiscent with you of a certain escapade in recent times, resulting in the fine young Mr. Mangan being shot and yourself being kidnapped?"
"Okay that was exciting but- won't it confuse people sending mail?" Trixie asked.
"Well, truthfully, Trixie the town isn't big enough to really register anywhere outside of the Tulsa township. That's why the mail goes there, and someone from Claremore goes and gets ours, and then brings it back. Mail is simply addressed to Winekekia, Tulsa township, Oklahoma terroritory," Peter said.
"Which you'd know if you ever paid attention to letters from our cousins," Mart pointed out. Trixie stuck out her tongue at him.
"Children," Helen said sharply.
Trixie fell silent, her thoughts turning back to her cousin. "When's Hallie coming?" she asked.
"Next month," Helen replied cheerfully. Trixie forced herself to smile.
“How long will she be staying?” Trixie pushed the peas around on her plate.
“Perhaps several months,” was the reply from her mother.
Trixie felt her heart sink. That was more than enough time to steal her beaus.
***
"Now Trixie, don’t overreact,” Madeleine admonished her. They were sitting on the porch of Manor House, enjoying the cooling afternoon. September had rolled in and while it was about to be busy with harvest time, Trixie had to see her friend.
“I don’t know which is worse,” she sighed. “Failing that examination or my cousin!”
“She can not be as bad as you are making her sound,” Madeleine was working on her latest cross stitching project.
“Hmmph. You’ve never met her. She’s clever, Madeleine, and pretty as you and Di,” Trixie said unhappily, watching the beads of water run down the side of her lemonade glass.
Madeleine set her work down in her lap.
“Beatrix Belden you are every bit as pretty as me and Di-and I’m sure Jim and Dan would agree! You’re cousin has likely changed quite a bit in recent years, and I bet you two will get along famously!”
Trixie just looked doubtfully at her friend.
 
***
Author's Notes
- a huge yeee-haaa! to my editor, Julie! All mistakes are mine.
- word count, 3,169
|