live in a wickiup.’
It dawned on Jade the doctor was right. Instead of just letting the truth about her birth become known, she had flaunted her Indian ancestry and forced a confrontation.
Cradling the book to her chest, she rose to her feet. ‘I’ll try,’ she said, the words slow and cautious as her mind raced over the possibilities. ‘But it might be too late. People are already set against me, and it might be impossible to change their minds.’
* * *
In the mercantile, Mr. Stevens stood behind the counter, filling the display of candy jars. His narrow face drew into a scowl as he watched Jade stride across the floor.
‘I have four crates of peaches in the buckboard.’ She took a quick survey of the shelves and saw there were no peaches. ‘Perhaps, if you’ve sold out, you’d like to buy some more.’
‘We agreed your Pa would come.’
‘He fell off the ladder this morning and broke his leg.’
The storekeeper stilled in his task. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He turned away from her and resumed the chore, moving from the lemon drops to the sarsaparilla sticks.
In her nervousness, Jade spoke bluntly. ‘He’s with the doctor now. The leg is in a splint. He won’t be able to make deliveries this season. You’ll have to deal with me.’
The bell over the entrance rang. Jade glanced over her shoulder. It was Mrs. Thurgood, the barber’s wife. When the small, slender woman spotted Jade, she hovered on the threshold for an instant, and then retreated back to the wooden walkway. The door swung closed. The sound of the bell faded into silence.
‘I’m sorry, Jade.’ Mr. Stevens concentrated on the candy jars. ‘It’s not me…it’s the customers. I can’t risk losing business…’
‘I understand.’ Her voice was low. ‘I’ll try selling the fruit elsewhere.’
She considered setting up a stall along Main Street, but she had no sign to advertise her produce, and no coins to make change if someone just wanted one or two. Pride would not allow her to stand there in the midday heat yelling, Peaches, peaches, a dozen for four bits . Instead she toured the businesses in town—the saloon, the hotel, even the bank and the barbershop and the sheriff’s office—but she achieved no sales.
By the school, she gave away two crates to the children on their break.
Then she went to fetch her father.
‘I’ll make the deliveries,’ he said as they drove home in the buckboard.
‘Pa, you heard the doctor. It’s important to rest while the bones heal. If you don’t take care, you might end up with a limp.’
‘I don’t care.’ Sam Armstrong spoke through gritted teeth as the buckboard jolted on the uneven trail. He tried to hide his pain, but his grim expression revealed his suffering.
Jade glowered at him. ‘You are not risking your leg, and that’s final.’
She steered the carthorse with care, picking her way through the worst of the potholes. It was her fault, she thought, squinting miserably into the bright sun. And she couldn’t even solve their problems by taking a husband, because she already had one, and he was gone.
* * *
Dark clouds covered the sky, blotting out the last of daylight. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the wind blew in cool gusts. Heavy drops started falling, spattering to the ground and splashing up again. Carl slowed Grace to a walk. He should have stopped for the night instead of trying to reach his destination before darkness fell.
In the distance, the small fertile valley softened the barren landscape. A bright dot hovered in the air, as if calling out to him. Closer, Carl saw it was a lantern hanging on the porch of Sam Armstrong’s cabin.
The horse whinnied and picked up speed, eager for rest and shelter.
‘Easy, boy,’ Carl said, and patted Grace on the neck.
He reached the log cabin and came to a halt. Limbs stiff from the endless hours of riding, he swung from the saddle, the long duster flaring around his legs. Water sluiced down the waxed
It dawned on Jade the doctor was right. Instead of just letting the truth about her birth become known, she had flaunted her Indian ancestry and forced a confrontation.
Cradling the book to her chest, she rose to her feet. ‘I’ll try,’ she said, the words slow and cautious as her mind raced over the possibilities. ‘But it might be too late. People are already set against me, and it might be impossible to change their minds.’
* * *
In the mercantile, Mr. Stevens stood behind the counter, filling the display of candy jars. His narrow face drew into a scowl as he watched Jade stride across the floor.
‘I have four crates of peaches in the buckboard.’ She took a quick survey of the shelves and saw there were no peaches. ‘Perhaps, if you’ve sold out, you’d like to buy some more.’
‘We agreed your Pa would come.’
‘He fell off the ladder this morning and broke his leg.’
The storekeeper stilled in his task. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He turned away from her and resumed the chore, moving from the lemon drops to the sarsaparilla sticks.
In her nervousness, Jade spoke bluntly. ‘He’s with the doctor now. The leg is in a splint. He won’t be able to make deliveries this season. You’ll have to deal with me.’
The bell over the entrance rang. Jade glanced over her shoulder. It was Mrs. Thurgood, the barber’s wife. When the small, slender woman spotted Jade, she hovered on the threshold for an instant, and then retreated back to the wooden walkway. The door swung closed. The sound of the bell faded into silence.
‘I’m sorry, Jade.’ Mr. Stevens concentrated on the candy jars. ‘It’s not me…it’s the customers. I can’t risk losing business…’
‘I understand.’ Her voice was low. ‘I’ll try selling the fruit elsewhere.’
She considered setting up a stall along Main Street, but she had no sign to advertise her produce, and no coins to make change if someone just wanted one or two. Pride would not allow her to stand there in the midday heat yelling, Peaches, peaches, a dozen for four bits . Instead she toured the businesses in town—the saloon, the hotel, even the bank and the barbershop and the sheriff’s office—but she achieved no sales.
By the school, she gave away two crates to the children on their break.
Then she went to fetch her father.
‘I’ll make the deliveries,’ he said as they drove home in the buckboard.
‘Pa, you heard the doctor. It’s important to rest while the bones heal. If you don’t take care, you might end up with a limp.’
‘I don’t care.’ Sam Armstrong spoke through gritted teeth as the buckboard jolted on the uneven trail. He tried to hide his pain, but his grim expression revealed his suffering.
Jade glowered at him. ‘You are not risking your leg, and that’s final.’
She steered the carthorse with care, picking her way through the worst of the potholes. It was her fault, she thought, squinting miserably into the bright sun. And she couldn’t even solve their problems by taking a husband, because she already had one, and he was gone.
* * *
Dark clouds covered the sky, blotting out the last of daylight. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the wind blew in cool gusts. Heavy drops started falling, spattering to the ground and splashing up again. Carl slowed Grace to a walk. He should have stopped for the night instead of trying to reach his destination before darkness fell.
In the distance, the small fertile valley softened the barren landscape. A bright dot hovered in the air, as if calling out to him. Closer, Carl saw it was a lantern hanging on the porch of Sam Armstrong’s cabin.
The horse whinnied and picked up speed, eager for rest and shelter.
‘Easy, boy,’ Carl said, and patted Grace on the neck.
He reached the log cabin and came to a halt. Limbs stiff from the endless hours of riding, he swung from the saddle, the long duster flaring around his legs. Water sluiced down the waxed
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