A Hopeful Heart by Kim Vogel Sawyer

delayed by this tall, courtly man.
    “My son tells me you’re wantin’ your pupils to witness the birth of a calf or two.”
    “Gage spoke rightly.” Mrs. Wyatt jiggled the reins, signaling her impatience. “But I’ve solved the problem. Abel Samms said he’d let the girls come on to his place when the time comes.”
    Abel . . . Close in sound to Athol, Papa’s name. Tressa’s heart gave a little flutter, and she filed the name away for safekeeping.
    The older man frowned, the leathery skin between his eyebrows folding into a tight crease. “Now, you know my herd’s five times the size of Samms’, Harriet. You’d have a better chance of seein’ a birth any day of the week if you just came out to—”
    “Appreciate your willingness to help us, Brewster.” Mrs. Wyatt bobbed her chin toward the man. “But things’re set, an’ I’m content to let ’em be. You have a good Lord’s day. Bye now.” She clicked her tongue on her teeth and flicked the reins. The horses trotted forward, leaving the gray-haired rancher standing in the churchyard, staring after the wagon.
    “Now he ’s a handsome man.” Luella’s low-toned comment brought Tressa’s attention from the rancher. Luella flicked a knowing look around the circle of girls in the back of the wagon. “Just like his son.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Oooh, Gage is my pick of the men in town.”
    “Gage . . .” Evelyn sniffed, snapping her parasol open over her head. “Why, he’s just a boy. He probably hasn’t been shaving for a full year yet.”
    “Even so,” Luella said in an insistent voice, “he’s the most eligible man in town. The son of the most successful rancher. I can’t believe all of you aren’t itching to be matched with him.”
    Evelyn rolled her eyes and double-fisted the parasol’s bamboo handle, gazing out across the passing landscape with her lips pursed tight.
    Sallie’s eyes sparkled. “Seems to me the father’s the most eligible, since he’s the one who owns the biggest ranch. An’ perhaps he’s taken a fancy to our Tressa here.”
    Luella snickered, and Tressa gawked at Sallie in horror. “To me?”
    “Why, ye didn’t see him scurryin’ forward to help any of us into the wagon, did ye?” Sallie grinned. “An’ wouldn’t it be a fine thing, Tressa, to be chosen by him?”
    “Oh, he’s far too old for Tressa,” Paralee contributed.
    Mabelle hunched her shoulders as she leaned forward. Her cheeks blotched red, matching her sunburned nose. “In lots of Beadle’s dime novels, the woman’s lover is double her age. She never seems to mind.”
    “Mabelle!” Paralee squealed.
    Luella clamped her hand over Paralee’s mouth. She tipped her head in the direction of Mrs. Wyatt. When the older woman didn’t even glance over her shoulder, Luella lowered her hand, but she hissed, “Hush now! We don’t want Aunt Hattie tellin’ us to quit thinkin’ of the men.” She giggled. “As if I could do it.”
    Tressa wriggled backward, distancing herself from the group. The conversation left her feeling as though her breathing was constricted. The purpose in coming to Kansas was to secure a husband—she knew that—but shouldn’t marriage be a dignified topic? Somehow Luella’s smirks and the others’ teasing comments made a mockery of the beautiful union her parents had shared. Sallie, Luella, Paralee, and Mabelle sat with their heads close together, whispering and giggling. Tressa shifted even further into the corner of the wagon.
    Evelyn scooted sideways and tapped Tressa on the shoulder. “Ignore them. What do you expect from factory workers and household maids? They lack even the pretense of civility.”
    Evelyn’s haughty tone was no easier to bear than the others’ flippancy, but Tressa simply nodded.
    “To be perfectly frank, Tressa, if you must complete this school and be matched with a man from the community, the older rancher would be the best choice.” Evelyn glanced at the others, rolled