8

Grace had been so busy with chores that a couple of days passed before she realized that she hadn’t seen or heard a peep out of Bluebelle. Donning her hat, she set out to go look for her. How does one call out to a duck? she wondered. Stepping outside, she saw her father and Robert chatting, but they paused when they saw her coming.

“You’ve got that troubled look on your face, daughter. Somethin’ wrong?” Owen asked.

“I hope not,” she said, tying the strings of her bonnet. “Either of you seen Bluebelle lately?”

“Can’t say I have. Have you, Robert?” Owen glanced over at him.

“No, I haven’t. Want me to help you look for her? I was taking a short break, if that’s all right with you,” Robert answered.

Grace waved a hand. “Oh no, no, you go right ahead. I’m sure Pop will enjoy some company. If Pop forgot to tell you, work is only half a day on Saturdays and you’re off on Sundays. It’s the Lord’s Day and we like to honor it,” she said, noting his broad grin and thanks with a smile. She gave a brief wave, then strolled down the lane and away from the house, calling out Bluebelle’s name.

A balmy breeze kissed the cottonwood’s tender new leaves while the sun warmed the pathway beneath them. Now, where had that silly duck gone? Ginny had ordered the duck from Sweden, and Grace was sure that it hadn’t been cheap. But that was like her friend to do something nice to surprise her.

Grace continued to walk farther, calling out Bluebelle’s name until she came to the creek, surprised to find three children wading in the water. She made her way down the slope to the creek bed below. The three children turned from the creek bed to watch as she made her way toward them, and to her surprise, there was Bluebelle floating around in the creek.

“Bluebelle!” Grace cried. “You naughty girl, running away from home!”

The duck waddled to the edge of the bank at the sound of her mistress’s voice while the children stood gazing at the duck and her. Grace paused, looking at the faces that seemed so familiar. Where had she seen them? “How did you get my duck?”

The boy shrugged, but the smallest girl answered, “She followed me home one day. Does she belong to you?” Her sweet voice was music to Grace’s ears.

“I know you—you’re that nice lady from the mercantile store,” an older girl said.

Now Grace did remember them. “Yes, you’re right on both counts. What are you doing way out here? Do you live nearby?”

“Well, sort of,” the older girl replied.

“Sort of? What does that mean?” Grace wondered if they were runaways, trying to escape being forced into the working mills.

“Our papa is at work and returns at suppertime. Are you gonna take the duck? She sure seems to know your voice,” the boy replied.

“I certainly am. But you can always come visit her. I live a couple miles just up that path. You can’t miss it.” Grace smiled down at the little girl. “We’d welcome some company. I’m sure we could find some cookies for you,” she added.

“I’d like that.” The little girl smiled up at her, and Grace was struck anew by her beauty.

“I must go now. You children be careful around the creek now.” Grace scooped up Bluebelle and tucked her under her arm. “This creek is on my land and I would feel responsible if you fell in. The water is icy this time of year.”

The boy shot his sister a look of surprise. “Uh, we’ll be going home too now.” He nodded at the two girls.

Grace waved goodbye, reluctant to leave them. It surprised her that any parent would let their children explore this far from their house, she thought as she walked back to the farm. Now she wished she’d taken the time to ask more questions. What had happened to their mother? She should have asked. From their appearances, she’d have to say they were poor. If they were her children, she’d somehow see to it that they had adequate shoes and clothing. She sighed. Maybe that was all the children’s parents could afford. She made a mental note to ask around and find out about their parents.

Turning her thoughts back to Bluebelle’s escapade, she fussed at her the rest of the way home. Still, she was grateful that she’d found her. “Bluebelle, what should I wear to Ginny’s supper party tonight?”

Bluebelle fidgeted under her arms, so Grace decided to put her down and follow her the rest of the way home. “I know what you need—a companion.” Just like me.

Grace was the last to arrive for dinner at Ginny’s when Nell greeted her and took her wrap. “They’re waiting for you in the parlor, Miss Grace,” she said while waiting for Grace’s bonnet.

“Thank you, Nell.” Grace smoothed her hair into place, then walked into the parlor.

Warren rose from his chair as she entered. Tall and dashingly handsome in his three-piece suit and clean-shaven face, he nodded and said, “Nice to see you, Miss Bidwell.”

“And you as well,” she replied.

Ginny came forward, taking Grace’s hands. “I’m so glad you could make it. I wasn’t sure you’d come. I should have told you to bring your father.” Ginny’s face grew serious for a brief moment.

“He sends his best to all of you, but he’s pretty comfortable by the fireplace with his books.”

Frank walked over to give her a peck on the cheek. “Always a delight to have you, Grace. Won’t you have a seat?” He directed her to a chair.

Grace felt Warren’s stare as she found a chair, so she tried to avert her eyes and focus on her friend’s sweet face.

“We’ll be dining in a few moments. I believe Nell outdoes herself when we have company. We never eat as well when it’s only the two of us,” Frank teased.

Ginny tapped him on the arm. “Pshaw! You know that’s not true, Frank.”

“I have a hard time believing that you are starved for a good meal, Frank.” Grace laughed as Frank patted his stomach beneath his vest.

“I’m sure you ladies are correct.”

Nell stood at the doorway. “Supper’s ready now, Mrs. Virginia.”

Ginny turned toward the doorway. “Thank you, Nell.” Turning to her guests she said, “Shall we?”

Throughout the meal, the conversation flowed amicably about current events and the thriving but new community of Bozeman. Warren caught Grace’s eye once or twice and she wondered what he might be thinking. She struggled to find something sensible to add to the conversation, having little time for more than the farm and her father.

Frank looked at his guests. “Did you hear we are going to have a church erected? The church will allow visiting ministers of other churches courtesies in the use of the building.”

“It’ll be nice to not have to meet in the Masonic Lodge,” Ginny added.

“I’m sure Pastor Alderson is very happy about that,” Grace commented, then took a bite of her food. There was a slight pause as everyone continued with their meal.

“Changing the subject, what is it you like to do for enjoyment, Miss Bidwell?” Warren asked from across the table.

Grace laid her fork down. “Well, to be honest with you, Mr. Sullivan, I have little time to engage with what’s happening around town. The closest I’ve come to having a bit of free time is a walk along the Gallatin River that runs through the valley.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Perhaps we can change that. I’m new to this area, so perhaps you could ride with me sometime and we’ll both discover the points of interest.” He grinned at her and she swallowed.

“I—I—don’t know. I haven’t much time to myself.” Is he asking to come courting?

Ginny laughed softly. “I’ll bet you can find an hour out of your day now that you have hired help on the farm. It’d be good for you for a change.”

Grace stared at her friend, whose eyes twinkled back. Just wait until I get her alone! She directed her gaze back to Warren. “I’ll have to let you know.”

Frank cleared his throat. “Grace takes care of her father who’s been sick recently, and we are praying for his improvement. Aren’t we, dear?” He looked at Ginny.

“Of course we are! But Grace could enjoy a break now and then.”

“Then it’s settled! I can come to call for you tomorrow afternoon. What do you say?” Warren pleaded.

“Well,” she said, finally giving in. “I suppose I could. But only for an hour.”

“You have my promise.” He gazed at her from over the rim of his glass until she looked back at her plate, pretending interest in her peas. She wondered about his background. Did he have siblings? How did he decide to become an attorney? His eyes held something mysterious behind them . . . or was it just his way of flirting?

Nell entered with a dessert of apple strudel and served it along with piping hot coffee. They sat around the table talking until much later than Grace had intended. She backed her chair out from the table. “I’ve so enjoyed the supper from my lovely hosts, but I must be going now.”

Everyone else stood as well, commenting on the lateness of the hour, then made their way out of the dining room.

Warren approached Grace. “May I please walk you to your carriage, Miss Bidwell?”

More like a buggy. A nice carriage hadn’t been within her budget. “That won’t be necessary,” she answered, walking to the door to retrieve her bonnet and wrap. “I don’t live very far. Just on the outskirts of town.”

“No harm in an escort, especially with a dashing young man offering,” Ginny teased.

Grace almost rolled her eyes at her friend but knew that was not lady-like. “Well, if you insist,” she said, turning to Warren.

“I do.” Warren took a step forward and settled her wrap across her shoulders. The dominance of his height and masculinity felt strangely pleasant beside her. No man had been in her life—other than her father—since Victor’s untimely passing. And she hadn’t given thought to anyone until now.

After her father was asleep, Grace slipped out onto the front porch, took a seat on the steps, and wrapped her arms about her legs. The multitude of stars made a brilliant display against the dark night sky, making her catch her breath. It was one of the things that she loved about this land—the wide-open spaces with the never-ending sky. She was reminded of the Psalms, that God counted the stars and called them by name. How, Lord, with too many to count, can You do that? It was all too unfathomable for her to take in.

Feeling small and insignificant—yet amazed that she was able to talk to the Creator of the universe—Grace bowed her head asking for His guidance in her life. She prayed for the children she’d encountered and for her father’s health. Afterward, she sat quietly, allowing the peace of the night sounds—a hoot owl, the gentle whisper of the quaking ash, and the flowing creek in the distance, to envelop her with its embrace.