that were dispensable to the
previous owners. I'm sure you understand."
"I do," she said, but her expression showed her
disappointment.
"What is it you need, Mrs. Cross?"
"I was hoping for eggs, and perhaps cheese and butter."
"And what do you have to trade?"
Penelope got up and crossed to the door. She disappeared for a few
minutes and returned with an object wrapped in a blanket.
Amy watched as the woman carefully unwrapped the bundle and
revealed a lovely cherry-wood mantel clock with a round glass face and
gilt-edged legs. She took a brass key from a tiny drawer in the back and wound
the timepiece, then opened the glass door and started the pendulum swinging.
"Mrs. Cross, that's worth far more than a few eggs and some
cheese, don't you think?"
"My father brought it over from England. But it's doing me no
good right now. I get up when daylight dawns and don't go to bed until work is
finished. Not a lot of call for knowing what time it is."
"But someday..."
"Someday doesn't count much when my family needs to keep up
their strength and their spirits."
Amy studied the ticking clock. She had a solid home and her daily
needs were met without worry. Comparing her situation to that of these women,
she felt fortunate. "Tell you what. I'll do you better than the eggs. I'll
trade you two of my black laying hens, a rooster, a brick of cheese and two
pounds of butter."
Penelope's face brightened, and she and her companions shared
excited smiles.
"My father can fix up a cage," Amy added.
It had seemed a simple enough solution, but the three women acted
as though they'd traded for a king's ransom. When it came time for them to
leave, regret plainly showed on their faces. Amy accompanied them to the stage
yard.
Penelope thanked Amy again and gave her an impulsive hug. Amy felt
herself stiffen, but she didn't pull away. Everyone who knew Amy had learned to
keep their distance, but this woman had no reason to realize her spontaneous
act was unwelcome.
If Penelope noticed, she gave no indication. Her smile was as
bright as before when she joined her party and rode away.
Amy watched "them go, thinking of the hardships they were
enduring on their way to their new land.
Back at the house, she polished the clock and gave it a place of
honor in the parlor. She'd met countless families making their way to what they
hoped were better futures, and she recognized the sacrifices they made during
their travels. Several pieces of furniture in this very room had been abandoned
along the trail, discovered by Jesse or her father and brought home. Sometimes
she wondered about the owners, hoped they'd reached their destinations.
She had so much to be thankful for. And that fact only added to
her guilt and inadequacy. What weakness in her kept her from being the person
she wanted to be?
That evening Amy worked on the dress she'd been making. Though
Jesse hadn't been sleeping in the house, the rooms were all the more silent
with him gone.
From her seat in the rocking chair in the parlor, the tick of
the clock on the mantel was her only company.
And something about the sound, about the elusive familiarity of
it, disturbed her. Before she went up to bed, she opened the clock face and
stopped the pendulum.
Chapter Four
"What are we gonna do with her?" Cay asked, giving Jesse a sidelong
look from his spot beside him on the wagon seat.
They were descending the last hill that led them along the Platte
Valley on their return to Shelby Station. Since they'd left Kansas, the boy
hadn't spoken much, hadn't eaten much, and didn't seem inclined to share more
than the seat and a campfire with his uncle.
"With your grandma?"
Cay nodded.
"Well, normally, we'd lay her out in the parlor and have
visitation. Then bury her with a service and all. But the sorry truth is, it's
been too many days, and we can't do more than put her in the ground."
The boy beside him showed no reaction.
Jesse had spent most of the miles of travel regretting having
previous owners. I'm sure you understand."
"I do," she said, but her expression showed her
disappointment.
"What is it you need, Mrs. Cross?"
"I was hoping for eggs, and perhaps cheese and butter."
"And what do you have to trade?"
Penelope got up and crossed to the door. She disappeared for a few
minutes and returned with an object wrapped in a blanket.
Amy watched as the woman carefully unwrapped the bundle and
revealed a lovely cherry-wood mantel clock with a round glass face and
gilt-edged legs. She took a brass key from a tiny drawer in the back and wound
the timepiece, then opened the glass door and started the pendulum swinging.
"Mrs. Cross, that's worth far more than a few eggs and some
cheese, don't you think?"
"My father brought it over from England. But it's doing me no
good right now. I get up when daylight dawns and don't go to bed until work is
finished. Not a lot of call for knowing what time it is."
"But someday..."
"Someday doesn't count much when my family needs to keep up
their strength and their spirits."
Amy studied the ticking clock. She had a solid home and her daily
needs were met without worry. Comparing her situation to that of these women,
she felt fortunate. "Tell you what. I'll do you better than the eggs. I'll
trade you two of my black laying hens, a rooster, a brick of cheese and two
pounds of butter."
Penelope's face brightened, and she and her companions shared
excited smiles.
"My father can fix up a cage," Amy added.
It had seemed a simple enough solution, but the three women acted
as though they'd traded for a king's ransom. When it came time for them to
leave, regret plainly showed on their faces. Amy accompanied them to the stage
yard.
Penelope thanked Amy again and gave her an impulsive hug. Amy felt
herself stiffen, but she didn't pull away. Everyone who knew Amy had learned to
keep their distance, but this woman had no reason to realize her spontaneous
act was unwelcome.
If Penelope noticed, she gave no indication. Her smile was as
bright as before when she joined her party and rode away.
Amy watched "them go, thinking of the hardships they were
enduring on their way to their new land.
Back at the house, she polished the clock and gave it a place of
honor in the parlor. She'd met countless families making their way to what they
hoped were better futures, and she recognized the sacrifices they made during
their travels. Several pieces of furniture in this very room had been abandoned
along the trail, discovered by Jesse or her father and brought home. Sometimes
she wondered about the owners, hoped they'd reached their destinations.
She had so much to be thankful for. And that fact only added to
her guilt and inadequacy. What weakness in her kept her from being the person
she wanted to be?
That evening Amy worked on the dress she'd been making. Though
Jesse hadn't been sleeping in the house, the rooms were all the more silent
with him gone.
From her seat in the rocking chair in the parlor, the tick of
the clock on the mantel was her only company.
And something about the sound, about the elusive familiarity of
it, disturbed her. Before she went up to bed, she opened the clock face and
stopped the pendulum.
Chapter Four
"What are we gonna do with her?" Cay asked, giving Jesse a sidelong
look from his spot beside him on the wagon seat.
They were descending the last hill that led them along the Platte
Valley on their return to Shelby Station. Since they'd left Kansas, the boy
hadn't spoken much, hadn't eaten much, and didn't seem inclined to share more
than the seat and a campfire with his uncle.
"With your grandma?"
Cay nodded.
"Well, normally, we'd lay her out in the parlor and have
visitation. Then bury her with a service and all. But the sorry truth is, it's
been too many days, and we can't do more than put her in the ground."
The boy beside him showed no reaction.
Jesse had spent most of the miles of travel regretting having
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