Chapter Five

"I'm thinking of holdin' a big shindig for Thanksgivin'," Aggie announced one evening following supper. "If you're willing to help with the fixins', I'll pay ya."

Startled by her unexpected declaration, Olivia paused in her scrubbing of the baking tin. Over the past two weeks, Aggie's brusque demeanor had softened considerably. She smiled more, greeted the boarders amiably, and on more than one occasion, she heard her humming a jaunty tune. One evening, she invited Olivia to share a simple supper. Over slices of cheese, cornbread, and bowls of a surprisingly savory stew, a friendship was formed.

Aggie's appearance had changed as well. Instead of the drab, mismatched, and shapeless blouse and skirts she'd favored since Olivia's arrival, she now wore calico dresses. Though certainly not in fashion, they did add to the bloom on her cheeks.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment but she sensed it had something to do with Big Ed Walsh, the quiet, burly blacksmith. She noticed his interest in the proprietress of the boardinghouse the first Sunday she attended services when he slid onto the bench next to her. Ever since then, he made a point of waiting for her and Olivia to arrive, helping them alight from Aggie's wagon, and securing the team. But when he held out his arm, his intent and attention was solely on Aggie.

"Lots of folks in town don't have kin in these parts so I figured it would be a comfort to give thanks together. Better than each of them eatin' alone."

"That's a lovely idea, Aggie. I'd be happy to help," Olivia responded. She wiped down the soapstone sink before drying her hands on her apron. "But you don't need to pay me extra. How many were you thinking of inviting?" Already, her mind was compiling a list of favorite dishes she'd enjoyed at Auntie Dee's Thanksgiving table.

"Well, there'd be the boarders, a'course, Pastor Hall and Myrtle, Roscoe Hogan, the tobacconist—and don't worry, I'll make sure he knows there'll be no smokin' in my parlor."

Hiding a smile, Olivia put the last of the cutlery into a wooden box on the scarred table. Although Aggie had run the boarding house for years with success, she couldn't imagine how. She reasoned that the expectations of the boarders in the West weren't that high. But with her help, business had increased. The boardinghouse that had once been dusty and offered less than edible food now had gleaming windows, dust-free floors, clean linens, and good, wholesome food. Aggie even had talked of getting a full-time cleaner. If that happened, perhaps Olivia could get a few more hours at Gus's shop.

"…and a'course you might want to ask Gus, and Sam Wright, seeing as he's sweet on ya."

At the mention of the sheriff, Olivia's eyes widened and any train of thought about a Thanksgiving menu came to an abrupt halt. She couldn't believe what Aggie was insinuating. Not once did she consider that Sam might like her as more than just a newcomer to town, but now it was no longer only Gus who was teasing her. If Sam did like her, how would she know? Other than the one invitation to supper and his visits to the shop, he hadn't made any indication of their friendship being any more than that. "Don't be silly, Aggie. The sheriff and I are just friends. There's nothing romantic between us."

Aggie sighed, a faraway wistful gleam lighting her eyes. Something Olivia had never seen in the sometimes-contrary proprietress. "I ain't one on givin' advice, especially about love but the older I get the more I see. Life is too short not to grab at every chance at happiness that comes along."

Without warning, she thought back to the times he had looked at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. Chance meetings at the mercantile. Cheery Sunday greetings after services. And of course, those impromptu visits to the tailor shop. She wasn't looking for love or a husband but was it possible that meeting Sam was what the Lord had planned for her?

"I have news," Aggie suddenly announced. "Ed Walsh and me are courtin'."

Olivia clapped her hands. "I wondered when you were going to say something."

"He's a good man, a bit older than me. But it's time I start thinkin' of finding another husband and settlin' down. Ed says he'd like to have a family."

Olivia gave Aggie a spontaneous hug. "If you think Ed is the person with whom you want to share a future, then I'm happy for you. I assume he'll be one of the guests for the Thanksgiving feast?"

Aggie nodded, a pink blush rising into her cheeks and making her look like a young girl in love with her first beau. "Of course. Once we marry, we'll be making this our home." She paused, and Olivia watched a shadow overtake her features. "The boardinghouse will be closin'. I won't be takin' on boarders. You'll have to find another place, Olivia."

If she hadn't already planned on finding her own place as soon as she saved enough money, she would have been distraught. Nevertheless, she was worried. She didn't have nearly as much money saved as she would have liked. Perhaps if she knew how much time she had left at the boardinghouse, she'd be able to make plans.

"We're plannin' on Christmas Eve. We figure folks will all be in church anyway. I hope you'll come. Ed's settin' up the whole thing over at the hotel."

Seeing her joy at finding love a second time, Olivia didn't want to diminish her happiness with her own problems. "I'd be honored to be there. And don't give another thought to where I'll go. As it happens, I've been saving up to buy a small place."

Relief flooded Aggie's face. "It makes my heart glad to hear that. My boarders come and go like the winds swoopin' in from the prairie. I wasn't worried so much about them. But you, a newcomer, a gal alone who didn't know a soul, and just when you're makin' a life for yerself, I had to go and pull the rug out from under you."

After losing Auntie Dee, her job, and more recently, Nate Forester, Olivia hadn't thought she'd have the fortitude to go on.

But she had, and she hadn't done it alone. "Don't think that for a minute, Aggie. I believe my being here in Cottonwood Falls is no accident. The Lord brought me here to prepare me for tomorrow. I have to trust His plan, even if I don't understand it."

Aggie squeezed Olivia's forearm. "You're a treasure, Olivia Talbot. Never once did you speak an unkind word to me, even when I was less than friendly to you. Being a lady and all from Boston, you don't look down on folks. Word gets around in a small town and I can tell ya, folks like you…especially a certain sheriff." She winked before heading to her room.

Olivia banked the coals in the fireplace and turned down the damper on the cookstove before heading off to her room. After washing and cleaning her teeth, she scooted into bed and clasped her hands in prayer.

Lord, thank you for the blessings you've given me today, even those I didn't see them as blessings at the time. I bring to You my burdens and You know my situation. If Sam Wright is the man you've chosen, please guide him on the path You have chosen. I don't know what your plans are for my future but You know I can't make it without You. Comfort my heart, give me strength, and help me carry on. Amen.

An unusually warm spell had melted the remaining snow and dried most of the mud on the roads. However, Olivia fully expected the weather to turn cold again since it was early November

Taking full advantage of the mild temperatures, she had just pinned the last of the laundry on the clothesline strung between two gum trees when she noticed a rider approaching. Shading her eyes with one hand, her heart hammered foolishly when she recognized Sam Wright coming around the side of the house.

Ever since Gus and Aggie offered their opinions that they believed he was interested in her, she couldn't help but wonder if they were right. Especially after his almost daily visits to Gus's shop. But if they were right wouldn't he have made a move in that direction? She shook away the thought as she moved toward him.

"You're up and about early, Sam." She still felt hesitant about using his Christian name. It felt too intimate. Yet, saying it gave her a singular pleasure.

"You, too," he replied, glancing at the laundry.

"Time and tide wait for no one," she jested, using an expression voiced by many of the workers on the docks of Boston Harbor. "No brawls to break up at the saloon?"

"No, ma'am. At least not yet. Besides, Jess Knowles, my deputy is on duty today." He cleared his throat and looked away before swinging his gaze back to her. "I'm a little out of practice with this whole thing, Olivia…Seeing that it's Saturday and Gus's place is closed, would you be free to go for a ride this afternoon?"

She hadn't given him leave to use her Christian name but since they were friends, she didn't see the harm. Still, she didn't want to get her hopes up. "I have a few things to finish for Aggie," she began. She saw the hopeful light in his eyes dim and rushed to continue. "But I should be free by noon. What did you have in mind?"

Sam relaxed visibly and he flashed that one-sided grin that had her heart turning over in response. "Thought we'd drive up to Cottonwood Station. It's only a mile and a half or so. There's someone I'd like you to meet. I'll get you home before dark. I wouldn't want to compromise your reputation."

"It seems to me, Sheriff Wright, the moment I take a seat next to you on your wagon, my reputation will already be food for the gossips," she replied with a teasing grin.

"I'll call for you about one."

Olivia nodded, and before she blinked a second time, Sam was gone, leaving her wondering if she imagined he had just been there, asking her to…to what?

Don't just stand there with your mouth open, Olivia Talbot! A little voice scolded. Sam Wright is calling for you at one o'clock!

After she told Aggie—who shouted with delight—Olivia rushed to finish her chores. By the time she shared a bite with Aggie, and changed into her Sunday best, a dark blue wool dress with a crocheted lace collar, Sam was knocking on the door.

"Why Sheriff Wright, you shine up like a new penny," Aggie exclaimed, as she opened the door.

When Sam stepped over the threshold, a fluttering arose at the back of Olivia's neck. He had spruced himself up for the occasion. His characteristic stubble was gone replaced by smooth, taut cheeks that revealed a dimple on his left cheek. His hair appeared to have been washed, its honey-gold strands shining in dark contrast to his black slouch hat. With last month's early snow long since melted and the moderating temperatures of the past few days, he wore a black canvas duster and his ever-present gunbelt.

He looked downright handsome and dependable.

She couldn't help but smile when Aggie gave a little wave and a wink as Sam helped her onto the wagon bench. The moment he climbed up beside her, released the brake, and set the team in motion, she curled her fingers around the edge of the seat. The closest she'd ever come to riding on a wagon was a horse-driven omnibus along the Boston's cobblestone streets. Added to her uneasiness were the curious stares of the townspeople as the wagon jostled over the rutted dirt and stone-covered road.

"We'll be away from prying eyes in two minutes," Sam reassured her. "And if I know Aggie, she'll come up with a good excuse why we're riding out of town together."

Olivia's uneasiness escalated. In Boston, a single woman never rode in a carriage—open or not—alongside a man without the benefit of a chaperone.

But this is 1880, Olivia, and this is the West, not Boston that little voice argued.

It wasn't until she heard water rushing by did she began to relax. "Are we going near the falls?"

Sam nodded, approaching the road leading to the bridge with care. "It's a spillway waterfall." When he saw her confusion, he went on. "That means it's sensitive to water levels. In late winter when the snow melts, the water level is high, then the spring rains add to it. Come summer, it dries to a trickle but there are a lot of flowers blooming along the dam."

As he guided the team onto the bridge, Olivia tightened her grip on the seat but leaned over the side to get a closer look. Though barren now, she imagined how serene the area might look when in bloom.

After they crossed the river and drove past a saw and grist mill, the shrubs and bushes cleared to reveal the land rising and falling to a faraway horizon, a wilderness of solitude. There wasn't a house, a fence, or an animal for as far as Olivia could see.

Sam seemed to sense her wonderment and brought the team to a halt. "This is Flint Hills. They say the tall grass runs south from Canada to the Oklahoma Territory. I'll bring you out here on a hot summer's day so you can see and hear the bluestem, wild alfalfa, and the switchgrass swaying in the wind. Lots of folks came out but struggled to farm the land because of rocks in the soil. But once they saw how quickly their stock fattened up on the grasses, they began building cattle ranches." He paused, cleared his throat, and pointed to the northwest. "Nate Forester's place is about fifteen miles that way. You got any interest in seeing it?"

Did she? Did she want to see the dream she'd held onto for so many months, the house where she and Nate might have raised a family, and made a life together? Or did she want to embrace the present, to hold close the friends she'd made, to celebrate her talents with her sewing, and to discover if Sam Wright was part of her future?

"No, Sam. As brief as my link was to Nate, I'd rather move on and welcome what the Lord has in mind for me." "Holding onto the back of the bench, Olivia stood, then pivoted in every direction. She imagined that walking in an ungrazed tallgrass on a distant hillside would be like swimming in a soft green sea. "It's beautiful," she breathed. "I've never seen anything like it in the whole of my life,"

Instead of gazing at the sea of grasses, Sam looked up at Olivia when he answered. "Neither have I."

Olivia's concentration shifted away from the undulating beauty of the prairie to Sam's mesmerizing eyes. Neither of them looked away for several moments. She dropped onto the bench. Her heart thudded once then settled back to its natural rhythm. It was as if an invisible web of attraction was building between them. Never having been in love or been seriously courted, she wasn't sure if this was what it felt like.

Instead of releasing the brake and continuing, Sam searched her eyes before speaking, his voice calm, his gaze steady. "I like you, Olivia. You might not believe this but you're the first girl—no—woman I've had an interest in since I was seventeen."

Her pulse quickened hearing his words as a smile trembled over her lips. She heard a slight tinge of wonder and hesitation in his voice as if he couldn't believe he was declaring such tender words. "I like you, too, Sam, very much."

She might have been able to withstand his hazel eyes but his charming—and disarming—grin was too hard to resist. "That's very good news, Livvy. You don't mind me shortening your name, do you? It suits you much better."

"No, Sam. I don't mind." At that moment, Olivia knew Aggie and Gus had been correct. Sam's interest wasn't just because she was new to Cottonwood Falls but rather he was interested in her as a woman.

He hadn't rushed into revealing his affections as some men might have. Though it wasn't her nature, Olivia could be patient when need be, especially if the reward was falling in love with Sam Wright.

Sam turned the wagon back toward town. Other than the tall grasses, the land was, for the most part, barren of trees and larger vegetation.

"You love this land, don't you, Sam?"

Keeping his eyes on the terrain, he nodded. "I've been out here dozens of times. In summer, a fella's skin could blister under the intense sun and heat. In winter, snow could cover your soddie and trap you there until the thaw in the spring. And if that weren't enough to try a man's body and soul, there are droughts, storms, and tornadoes. But even with all the challenges, life here is its own reward. Aside from the tall grasses, the soil is rich and good for farming, once you turn the ground over. Once a fella or a family can prove it up in five years, they'll own it free and clear."

Olivia bounced in her seat. "I know about that! The Homestead Act, right? Mrs. Crenshaw, the lady who matched me with Nate told me that her husband was a Congressman who worked to pass that piece of legislation."

"As it turns out, we're headed to see a family who just recently proved up the land. They live at the south edge of Cottonwood Station, close to Cottonwood Falls." He jutted his chin to the left.

She squinted in the direction he indicated. "I see the town in the distance, but where is their house?" She twisted in both directions.

"Sean and Miriam live in a dugout. Since they have no trees to cut down for lumber or stones, they have to make do with what they have…the ground."

She stared at him in disbelief. "They live in the ground?"

Sam was uncertain how to explain it. "You see, a dugout is a cave dug out of the ground or into the side of a low hill. They made it big enough for the entire family, but they didn't pretty it up at all since they're planning on building a soddie come spring.

"This…this soddie, as you call it, how is it built if there's no trees, or bricks or stones?"

Patiently, Sam explained the steps. "First, they cut down a foot into the earth for the floor. Next, they cut the top layer of soil into long lengths, make them into bricks, and layer them root side up to make the walls stronger. They'll keep an opening big enough to allow space for windows and a door. Finally, they'll make a roof from long branches stripped of their leaves across the walls then covered with bundles of brush, mud, and a layer of sod, grass side up."

"My goodness!" Olivia breathed. "I must see this. They'd never believe it back in Boston."

Sam turned the team and wagon in a wide arc and down the lee side of a low-rolling hill. "Well, hold onto your hat, Miss Talbot. We're here." Just as he set the brake and secured the reins, a man and woman seemingly emerged from a door in the ground.

He watched Olivia's eyes grow round as saucers. He kept his voice low as he helped her down from the bench. "Yes, Miriam is an Indian…Pawnee. Sean is a former army officer. He works as an army scout now." Sam placed his hand on the small of Olivia's back, guiding her toward the couple. It was a simple courtesy, but a jolt traveled from his fingertips up his arm to curl around his heart.

"Sam Wright, what are doing out in these parts? Looking for some outlaws to round up?" Sean McClarren teased, giving Sam a hearty handshake. He was as tall as Sam but leaner through the chest and shoulders. Now that he was no longer in the regular army, his shoulder-length red hair was pulled back with a piece of rawhide, while his dark eyes danced with good humor.

"I got a deputy sheriff now so I can take a day off every so often," Sam replied, his hand still on Olivia's back. "Hello, Miriam. Good to see you. You're looking well."

Miriam reached up and kissed Sam's cheek. "And you as well, my friend." She wore her dark hair in two long, thick braids decorated with beads. Beneath her buffalo robe, she wore a knee-length dress and leggings.

"Miriam, Sean, I'd like to introduce Miss Olivia Talbot. She arrived in town to marry Nate Forester. Olivia, this is Miriam and Sean McClarren."

Sean's expression softened. "We heard about Nate's unfortunate passing, Miss Talbot. We're lucky we have someone with Sam's experience to round up these outlaws."

Olivia dipped her head. "Thank you. Please call me Olivia."

Miriam took her elbow. "How about some sassafras tea and corncakes? It's much too cold to stand out here and visit." While Olivia followed Miriam inside the sod house, Sean showed Sam where he could leave the wagon.

"We're not staying long, Sean. I just thought Olivia would like to see some of the area." He laughed. "She's never seen a dugout."

Sean slapped him on the back. "Then we'll have to give her the full tour."

Using what little light she could see, Olivia bent over, her head clearing the lintel of the opening. Once she entered the dugout, she was relieved to discover the walls, constructed of the sod blocks Sam had mentioned, were built up to a height of seven or eight feet, allowing her to stand up straight.

Immediately, the pungent odor of musty, damp earth wrinkled her nose. Having been taught to mind her manners in another's home, she was glad, at least in this case, Miriam couldn't see her look of revulsion.

Once Olivia's eyes adjusted to the shadowy interior and light coming from low-burning kerosene lamps placed throughout the space, she noticed a wall lined with newspapers.

"We pin the newspapers to keep the dirt from falling off the blocks of sod," Sean explained, stepping around the square, crudely constructed table. Startled by his voice, Olivia stumbled backward. A pair of strong hands settled on her shoulders and kept her upright.

"You're safe, Livvy. I've got you."

Sam's voice was low, smooth, and entirely too close. "I seem to have lost my footing. Thank you, Sam."

"Sorry about that, Olivia." Sean hurried to turn up the lamps. "Since me and Miriam know our way around the dugout, we keep the lamps low to conserve fuel."

With the added light chasing the shadows away, Olivia took in her surroundings with unconcealed curiosity. The floor beneath was dirt but felt as hard and smoothed as stone, and while one wall was pasted with newspaper, the remaining wall space was coated with some kind of white coating.

"Sam tells me you've never been in a dugout, Olivia, and I can see by your face you have questions." Sean moved to her side after placing a plate of cornbread on the table.

"I do," she quickly answered, unable to hide her desire to learn more about this part of Kansas she now called home. "Why is only wall pasted with newsprint and the others coated?"

Miriam's soft chuckle reached her before Sean could answer. "My husband is a fine man but he often begins a task and then gets interrupted by one thing or another. In time, he comes back to it." A smile directed toward Sean softened her less-than-flattering comment.

In return, Sean pulled Miriam to his side. "My wife understands that sometimes I must leave. But it will get finished, I promise." Sean then went on to explain that the coating came from burned limestone rock and sifted sand to make a plaster for the walls.

"It's meant to keep out the dirt and the insects," Sam put in.

Olivia grimaced, her body giving a shiver.

"Before we plastered, we discovered that centipedes had managed to find their way down onto the newspaper," Miriam added, "their scratching on the paper kept Sean awake."

Trying to keep her revulsions to herself, Olivia changed the subject. "Your floorcloth is lovely. Back home we had something similar. My aunt called them rag rugs."

"My mother taught me to make them years ago. "I tear strips, stitch them end to end, then wrap them around a piece of rope. Sean likes them in a circle. He says they remind him of home." Miriam paused and looked up from pouring hot water into a clay teapot. "I overheard Sam telling Sean that you came to Kansas to marry. Where did you travel from?"

Sean offered Olivia one of the two chairs at the small table. "Boston. After my aunt died and her home was sold, I decided I needed a change."

"Well, I'll wager drinking sassafras tea in a dugout isn't quite the change you had in mind." Sean's eyes twinkled with mirth as he handed her a steaming cup and saucer with a familiar china pattern.

"Goodness! I never expected…I mean—"

Miriam smiled as she pushed the plate of cornbread toward her. "You never expected to find a Pawnee woman serving tea in a china cup in a dugout?"

Olivia was glad of the semi-darkness that hid the flush in her cheeks but there was nothing for it. "No, I wasn't expecting it," she admitted. Hurriedly, she took a sip of the steaming brew, the taste reminding her of a glass of Hires root beer she'd tasted at Brigham's ice cream saloon on Washington Street in Boston. She set the cup back on the saucer. "Do you know the legend of the Blue Willow pattern?"

Miriam reached across the table and laid her hand on Olivia's. "I would love to hear the story. I wonder if it matches the one I imagined."

Olivia put aside the cup and held the saucer upright so everyone could see it. "In the Blue Willow legend, the beautiful daughter of a powerful man fell in love with her father's secretary. Discovering their love, the father banished the secretary and constructed a great fence to keep his daughter contained. She could only walk by the water and the willows. She despaired until she received a message from her lover. At a banquet, he rescued her, but her father noticed and chased them across a bridge. They got away, but years later, her father caught up with them. The secretary was killed, and the daughter died as well. In pity, the gods turned them both into doves so they could fly together forever."

When she finished the story, Olivia looked up to see Sean standing behind Miriam, his hands kneading her shoulders, while tears trembled on his wife's lashes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"Oh, dear. I'm sorry I made you cry, Miriam," She turned to Sam. "Perhaps we should be leaving, Sam."

"Please don't go." Miriam looked up at her husband. "The story is similar to ours…almost as I imagined, but we are fortunate no one in Sean's family has come to separate us…yet."

"Yet?"

"I'm from a fairly well-to-do family in Chicago," Sean explained. "As the oldest son, I was expected to go into the family business. But I didn't want anything to do with being in a factory all day. When the war started, I signed up. Surprisingly, I like the army and decided to make it a career. My family didn't like it, and when I wrote and told them I married Miriam, they liked it even less."

"Especially when they found out I was a Pawnee medicine woman, like my mother before me." There was quiet defiance in Miriam's voice.

"A medicine woman?" Olivia's mind was a jumble, trying to process all the new information she'd learned today.

"Yes, my mother taught me about herbs that grow in the meadows and fields. She would use them in the healing ceremonies. She taught me prayers, songs, and dances along with the gathering and preparation of herbs and medicines. It's been my honor to give gratitude to Mother Earth, nature, the ancestral spirits of my people, and the Great Spirit. So, you see, your legend of the Blue Willow could be our story."

Sean guided Miriam to her feet. "For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart."

"It was not my lips that kissed you but my soul," replied Miriam.

"It's unfair, Miriam, that Sean's family can't see the love you have for each other. But it's their loss," said Sam. "People can't help who they fall in love with…it just happens."

Olivia was quiet as she sat beside Sam on the wagon bench, a threadbare quilt draped over them as he guided the team back to town. "Do you believe what you said about people falling in love…that they can't help who they fall in love with?"

Sam kept his eyes on the trail and gathering twilight. "Sure, falling in love isn't just about holding hands, a kiss, or a smile. It's about knowing it feels right to be with one another. It's about every dream, every hope, every reason you ever had. It's about knowing that every day you are together is the best day of your life."