Ty concentrated on turning the metal strip over the end of the anvil to get the right angle to the twist. He’d messed up on this the first time, and Ed Stahl would be back by sundown to pick up the hoe. If Ty had his way, he’d close his doors and work on fittings for his own place. It needed shutter dogs and a swing arm for the fireplace so he could heat water. Every other house in Hickory Corners needed a fire for cooking, but Betsy fixed his meals as a matter of course.
Betsy. He surely hoped she approved of the house. In fact, he hoped someday he’d carry her over the threshold. The buck’s antlers hung over the hearth and held his rifle and powder horn. Each day, he added a shelf or a hook to the cabin to make it feel homey, like hers. He’d built it so it looked much like Betsy’s, but he’d planned to do something different. He wanted to put in a real glass window instead of clarified hide. For now, the clarified hide would suffice—especially since he’d taken the cheery yellow, striped curtains Betsy made for his old cabin and hung them there.
From the first time he sat at the Larkins’ table, he’d been made to feel welcome. Mr. Larkin spoke to him man-to-man in a way that let Ty know he’d been judged and approved. Mr. Larkin made it clear he didn’t want to listen to Ty talking about God, but he’d jaw about anything else, and they’d forged a fair friendship. It saddened Ty to see the pain in Mr. Larkin’s eyes and the angry lines around his mouth whenever Betsy and the kids bowed theirs heads for grace—but at least he didn’t stop them from praying.
Most evenings after supper, Ty and Betsy traded turns at reading the Scriptures to the kids before she served dessert. Her love for the Lord and the Word were sweeter than anything she baked—and nobody baked like Betsy. To Ty’s joy, she made him feel as if she didn’t merely set a place at the table for him out of charity—she welcomed him to join them. In fact, she’d even taken to making gingerbread once a week when he’d confessed he had a powerful weakness for the treat.
Mr. Larkin and Betsy wouldn’t take money for the meals. They always pointed out that Ty had hunted most of the meat that now filled the smokehouse. He’d chopped cords of wood for them, too. Still, he didn’t reckon a man with his hearty appetite was paying his fair way—not for the vittles, and not for Betsy’s extra work. Because of that, he made it a game to do chores and make essentials for them.
Nails or pegs used to hold things in the Larkin home. Ty made hooks for the dishcloths and aprons, devised a holder with parallel bars a few inches apart for the towels that held four of them neatly in a small space. Betsy’s pretty brown eyes glittered with delight over that invention. He’d made three decorative shelves with porcelain-knobbed hooks for Betsy and her little sisters to use for their clothes. From the joy they showed, Ty might have thought he’d built them a bridge straight into heaven.
Thrice now, he’d taken Karl and Will fishing. When they returned, he told Betsy with absolute sincerity, “I had more fun than the boys!” He’d reinforced a weak spot on the plow for Mr. Larkin, too. A replaced hinge here, a cowbell there … all little things Ty hoped would show his appreciation—not just for the food, but for the way the Larkins gave him what he’d not yet had: a place to belong, a family. He knew, too, that Betsy was definitely the heart of that family.
Ty struck one last blow, then plunged the hoe blade into a barrel of water to cool. It took a few minutes to affix it to an elm stick. With that done, Ty picked up the first piece he’d ruined. If he played with it a bit, he could still salvage the metal—Betsy needed a hoe.
Round about a half hour later, Will peeped over the rail. “Whatcha doing, Mr. Ty?”
Ty looked at him and Karl. “Where’s Marie?”
Karl jerked his thumb toward the street. “Mary Abner has a new doll. Marie stopped by to see her, and her ma said she can stay for supper.”
A smile lit Ty’s face. “Shut the door, boys. Christmas is coming, and we have work to do.”
The winter wheat looked like green stubbly grass all over the field. The snows so far hadn’t stayed, but they’d moistened the ground. Pa went off with Mr. Melvin and the Bunk brothers to cut lumber. The sawmill paid a bit for logs, and the men made a habit of using a few winter weeks when the fields needed no tending to go saw down trees, take them downriver to the mill, and get some cash money. Since Greta was born and Stepmama died, Betsy dreaded these excursions. She worried about Pa and fretted she’d not be equal to the task if anything went wrong while she carried on alone with her youngers.
She stood on the porch and waved them off to school. Karl carried their McGuffey’s primers and readers. A pail dangling from Marie’s fingers banged against her knees in a noisy announcement to Ty that his dinner was on the way. Betsy had started packing his dinner pail along with the kids’. It took but a moment more, and it was only fair. Ty did so much for her, she wanted to return his favors and reward his good deeds.
The smoke curling from his forge smelled good. All day long, it served as a reminder to her that she wasn’t alone. Greta napped while Betsy went out to bring in the wash. It hadn’t dried completely, but most of the water had dripped off, so they’d finish steaming inside without mildewing. She needed to hurry—the sky was getting dark, fast. Betsy cast a look down the road and wished Master Jarrod would let school out a bit early today. It looked like a mighty storm was blowing in.
Indeed, less than an hour later, the wind howled and snow flurries filled the sky. The kids hadn’t gotten home from school, and she hoped they weren’t lost outside. Betsy cried out, “Protect my youngers, Lord. They’re so helpless, and the storm’s so bad.…”
Loud thumping sounded on the porch. Betsy flew to the door. As soon as she opened it, Ty pushed his way in, swiveled, and shoved his weight against the door to shut out the cold. He opened his coat, and Marie’s arms and legs unwound from his neck and waist. She slid to the floor, and Will slowly released his death grip on Ty’s left thigh.
Ty gave Betsy a grin. “I knew you’d be worried, so I fetched the kids, and I’ll fill your wood box. I had to be sure you’d be all right. Karl is back at my place, warm as can be. Storm’s getting worse, so I’ll keep him there.”
Tears of gratitude filled her eyes. Betsy gathered her sister and brother close and whispered, “Thank you, oh, thank you. God bless you, Tyson.”
“He does.” Ty shot her a quick smile, then made three swift trips to bring in a generous supply of firewood. He made one last trip, dumped those logs by the front door, and nodded his satisfaction. Before she could say a word, he hiked to the smokehouse and brought back a big bag for her and another for himself. “That’s enough to keep you warm and full for a good long while. Do you need anything else?”
Betsy stood on tiptoe and wound a gray-and-blue striped wool muffler around his neck. “This was supposed to be for Christmas, but you’re too cold to do without. Thank you, Ty. Thank you for looking out for us.”
He smiled and ran icy fingers down her cheek in a tender caress. “I’d do anything for you and yours, Betsy.”
They stared at each other, and heat scorched her cheeks. She inched away. Ty tightened the muffler and smiled. “This was a wonderful surprise. I’ve never had finer. You’re quite a woman, Betsy Larkin. There’s not a woman on the face of the earth with a bigger heart than yours. Your family is blessed to have you, and God surely must be pleased to call you His daughter. I’d stand here singing your praises all afternoon, but I need to get back to Karl.”
She picked up a thick quilt. “Wrap up in this. When you get home, Karl can use it. Hang onto this corner here. I tied a flour sack to it with dry clothes for him.”
There wasn’t time to waste. The wind howled a warning. As Ty pulled the quilt tight around his shoulders and readjusted his hold on the meat and sugar sacks, he said, “I’m keeping my eye on you. If you have any trouble at all or want my help, tie a red scarf to the west post of the front porch. You can be sure I’ll be watching, so don’t you hesitate for a single moment. The second you need me, I’ll come running. I’ll stop by the barn and water and feed the animals, so you won’t need to trouble yourself for a few days.”
He left, and when he disappeared into the swirling snow, Betsy wasn’t sure what to think. Should she be elated that he’d been so good to her and God had answered her prayers to keep her siblings safe, or should she feel bereft that she could never know the joy of marrying such a wonderful man?
It wasn’t as if she got to make a choice, anyway. He’d already walked Samantha home. He’d set his heart on a woman who could devote her every waking moment to his happiness. Samantha and Ty were her two favorite people—but Betsy couldn’t bring herself to find joy in their romance. She felt guilty for coveting what simply wasn’t ever to be in her grasp … but that guilt and all of her fervent prayers didn’t erase the ache in her heart.
Four days later, the storm ended. Ty and Karl rode over. Betsy opened the door, and Ty filled his eyes with the sight of her. “You look wonderful,” he decided.
“Yeah!” Karl threw his arms around Betsy while Ty gladly hugged the children. He would have happily lifted Betsy up and swung her around, too, but the way she went bashful over his compliment held him back.
After they ate bubble and squeak for lunch, Will and Marie started to squabble. Betsy shrugged apologetically. “The kids are pretty rowdy from being stuck inside.”
“That’s understandable. It’s still bitterly cold outside, but they could probably go to the barn to frolic.”
“That’s a fair notion. You kids bundle up warmly and tend to the animals while I put Greta down for a nap.” The kids obeyed with alacrity. As she came back to the main room, Betsy caught Ty eating the last few bites from Marie’s plate. Her delicate brows rose.
“Now don’t make fun of me. Smidgen left that for me.” A woeful shake of his head accompanied his outrageous claim. “Karl and I were pitiful bachelors. We managed, but nothing we took from the hearth tasted anything like what you make. Truth be told, I could probably knock the center out of my dumplings and sell them as horseshoes.”
She stacked the dishes and laughed.
“You have a lovely laugh. I wish you’d do it more often,” he said. “It’s like a rare gift, seeing you lighthearted.” He walked over to her and took her hand in his. “Speaking of gifts, I feel like God gave me the sweetest present in the world the day we met. First time I saw you in church, you nearly stole my breath away. I didn’t know at that time, you’d steal my heart, too—but you have.”
“No, Ty. Please don’t do this.” Betsy tugged her hand from his. “Your friendship means so very much. I don’t want this to come betwixt us.”
He stared at the just-swept plank floor. “It’s because I’m so big and clumsy, isn’t it? I scare you.”
“No!” She didn’t hesitate for a single second, and that fact made her response ring with truth. “I always figured a man’s strength was a gift God gave him so he could provide for his wife and protect her.”
He looked back at her. “Then what’s the problem?”
Betsy bowed her head and knotted her hands in her apron pockets. Tension sang in the stiff lines of her stance, yet sadness radiated from her words, “You deserve a bride who pampers you, Ty. A woman who can devote her whole heart to you—someone like Samantha. I can’t.”
Just then, Marie, Will, and Karl ran in. Will and Marie were both crying. Karl tattled, “They were climbing up to the hayloft and got splinters in their hands.”
Ty watched as Betsy gathered them close, soothed, sympathized, and sent Karl to fetch a needle from her sewing box so she could pick out the splinters. As he leaned against the table, the truth finally dawned. Betsy thought he expected her to abandon the children! After years of caring for them, she’d become more of a mother than a sister; and fool that he’d been, he hadn’t considered the fact that she didn’t know he’d gladly take them all into his home. He’d already opened his heart to them.
Words came cheaply. Actions would have to be his tool. He’d show her over and over again. Yes, that’s what he’d do. He’d let her think he’d accepted her refusal and simply be her friend … and with time and patience, he’d prove his love.
She could take her silly notions about Samantha Thomasohn and cast them to the wind. In his whole life, no one had ever touched his heart like Betsy Larkin, and she was silly if she thought he was going to give up on her and plug anyone else in just because she’d taken a crazy notion in her head. Her family wasn’t a burden; it was an utter joy. Far as he could see, it wouldn’t take long for him to prove his feelings. He might not have gotten her pledge of heart and hand today—but Ty felt certain that would come. God wouldn’t have brought them together if He didn’t intend for this to work out.
Ty left, and Betsy felt like he’d taken her heart along with him. She tried to be cheerful for her siblings, but the fact was, Ty hadn’t refuted her assertion at all. He hadn’t even offered a token denial that the kids weren’t a burden. Just as telling, he’d not contradicted a word she’d said about Samantha. It hurt. It hurt really bad.
She kept busy. That ought to help. She’d been through this four times before. By now, she should be used to it—men simply didn’t want a bride who brought a dowry of nothing more than hungry, noisy children. Oh, when the shoe was on the other foot, it was a different matter. Widowers with children regularly remarried and expected their new wife to take on the responsibilities of caring for children. Pa had done that. Frieda married him and had been good about taking Betsy under her maternal wing and shepherded her from being a gawky eight-year-old into early womanhood.
Greta plopped down in the middle of the floor and awkwardly wrapped her dolly in a little baby blanket. She picked it up, cradled it, and crooned. Betsy turned away and tried to blink back her tears. She’d never have a babe of her very own to cuddle. That blanket had been one she’d made to go in her own hope chest, but when Frieda died and the baby things were so worn-out, Betsy had taken it out and used it for Greta.
After she tucked her youngers in for the night and stoked the fire, Betsy sat at the hearth and held her Bible. She had always loved the Word, and she treasured the fact that Ty did too. Because the Good Book was a link they shared, she couldn’t bear to even open it tonight. Hands tightly clenched around the battered black leather, she clutched it to her bosom and silently prayed, God, I’m so thankful for my youngers. Please give me the love and patience I need to rear them. Forgive me for my selfish wishes, and renew my heart. You set me in this family, and Pa and the kids truly need me. Help me to continue to serve them in Your name and with a willing heart. Don’t let foolish dreams tempt me, I pray—
“Sis?”
She hastily wiped away her tears and didn’t turn around. “Yes, Karl?”
“Mr. Ty uses tongs so he doesn’t get burned, but he’s taken to wearing cotton gloves under leather ones now. Funny thing: He said leather lets the heat come straight through, but cotton doesn’t. He didn’t used to wear ’em, but he started to once he moved here so’s his hands don’t stay coal black all the time. Old Mr. Willon’s gloves were still there, but they’re falling apart. I sneaked one and traced ’round it. Since you already gave Mr. Ty the scarf, I thought maybe you and Marie could stitch him some new gloves for Christmas. It wouldn’t take long, would it? That way, he’d still have a Christmas surprise.”
“That’s a fine idea.”
“Know what? He’s been doin’ hunting and not telling folks. Since Mr. Alexander got hurt, he can’t bring in food. Ty’s been taking meat over to them. After he brought Marie and Will home to you, he went back to the Alexanders’ just to be sure they had wood and meat for the blizzard.”
“He’s a good man,” Betsy whispered hoarsely.
Karl padded over and hunkered down. He rested his head on her arm. “I had fun with him. We did some neat stuff, and he taught me some things; but Sis?” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I missed you. Don’t tell Will, though.”
Betsy pressed a kiss to his rumpled hair. “I missed you, too, and I’ll keep it a secret.”
“I’m keeping lots of secrets these days.”
“Oh?”
The firelight painted her brother’s face and made his smile gleam. He nodded. “Can’t tell. Christmas is going to be extra fun, though.”
“It’s only nine days away. I reckon Pa ought to be home in about three more days. I want to finish sewing his shirt for Christmas before he gets back.”
“Tomorrow’s Tuesday, isn’t it? You go to Mrs. T’s.”
Betsy shrugged. “I might not go. The storm set me behind a bit.” She didn’t add on the biggest truth: She didn’t think she could go and pretend to be happy for Samantha. Best she just stay home and tend to family matters.
Late Wednesday morning, Mrs. Tidewell stopped in for a visit. “We missed you yesterday. Karl dropped by on the way to school to say you wouldn’t come, but since you’re here alone with the kids, I wanted to be sure you were all right.”
As Betsy concentrated on pouring steaming tea into their cups, she said, “The storm caught me by surprise.”
“It caught us all by surprise. Noah said the Almanac didn’t even predict it. Ty was wonderful. It would have warmed your heart to see how he hurried out to the schoolhouse with a rope. The storm came up so fast, he didn’t even take time to put on his own coat. He already knows which kids are related to whoever is in town and made them cling to the rope until he reached that building. He dropped them off until he reached his own place.”
Honey. Betsy added more honey to her tea. She stirred it around and around and tried to sound casual, “I’m very thankful. I’d been worried and just finished praying, and he appeared at the door with Marie and Will.”
“He’s become quite devoted to you, my dear.” Mrs. T smiled softly. “The girls spoke of little else yesterday at the sewing circle.”
Betsy shook her head. “No. It’s just a friendship. We’re good neighbors.”
“Good friends and neighbors are a gift from the Lord.” Mrs. T sipped her tea and reached for a small bundle she’d brought. “We decided on a pattern for our next group quilt. I brought you some squares to work on. Since you’ve begun to teach Marie to sew, I put in a few extras. She could make a little crib quilt.”
“Thank you,” Betsy said as she opened the bundle and looked at the cream, blue, and rose fabric. “These colors look wonderful together. What pattern are we making?”
“Old Maid’s Choice.”
The fabric fell from Betsy’s hands.
Mrs. T rose and came around the table. She stood behind Betsy and enveloped her in loving arms. “Ah, Betsy. I’m sorry. Please don’t feel that was a reflection on you. It wasn’t. You’ve always loved the four and nine patch quilts. Every quilt the group has made went to someone else—you never asked for one, never suggested it was your turn to have us make one for you. We voted that it’s well past your turn and started this yesterday because we love you. Samantha chose the colors because she knew they were your favorites, and Elsa suggested quilting it with hearts and lines because your love radiates to everyone.”
Tears slipped down Betsy’s cheeks. Though her shoulders shuddered with her weeping, Mrs. T held her tightly. That made it even more bittersweet. No one ever held her. Pa didn’t, and the kids gave her hurried hugs, but she hadn’t had the luxury of being consoled, comforted, and cosseted by anyone for years. The only hugs she’d ever have would be old maid hugs—ones from other women, or from nieces and nephews … and that knowledge broke her heart.