Gift of Grace Read online

  Aggravated with her attraction to a man she currently despised, she marched over to her rocking chair and plopped down, picking up an embroidery hoop from the basket on the floor. She’d started embroidering a piece of fine cotton she’d intended to use for a coverlet for the baby’s crib once she grew too big for the cradle, but now she didn’t know what to do with it. Rather than toss it aside, Nora thought it could easily be turned into a tablecloth. Mrs. Erickson seemed to appreciate pretty things. Perhaps she’d enjoy it. As Nora thought about the possibilities, she decided it would make a fine Christmas gift for her neighbor, especially if she embroidered napkins to match.

  She threaded her needle with a length of yellow thread then set to work embroidering flowers. When she glanced over at J.B., she was surprised to see him reading his Bible instead of a book. He enjoyed a good fictional tale of adventure when he had time to read, but the sight of the Bible held in his work-roughened hands gave her a moment of pause.

  Rather than comment, she pushed the rocking chair into motion with her toe and returned to her stitching.

  “Want me to read aloud?” J.B. asked in a quiet voice.

  “If you like,” Nora said, uncomfortable with the tense silence lingering between them.

  J.B. cleared his throat and began reading from a Psalm, one Nora knew well. She tried to block out the words, but they trickled in her ears and convicted her heart. By the time he finished reading, she wanted to flee the room, to hide from her husband and God.

  Pride kept her in her seat and fury kept her working on the tablecloth. It wasn’t until J.B. set the Bible aside and muttered something about checking the stock that the starch went out of her spine.

  Exhausted, she took a lantern from the kitchen and hurried out to the necessary then rushed back inside. Glad she’d returned before J.B., she banked the fire in the fireplace, blew out the lamps, then readied for bed.

  By the time she heard J.B. stamping snow off his boots at the kitchen door, she was tucked beneath the covers, pretending to be asleep.

  Eyes squeezed shut, she rested on her side, willing him to go to sleep without speaking to her. She swallowed hard when his weight settled on the other side of the bed and he blew out the light. He released a sigh, then pulled the covers over his shoulder.

  Nora didn’t care if he froze his toes. Just to be ornery, she yanked the covers her direction. J.B. gave them a mighty tug, leaving her half exposed to the nippy night air.

  “That is enough!” Nora hissed, rolling onto her back and dragging the covers toward her again.

  “Yes, ma’am,” J.B. drawled, then kissed her cheek before he rolled onto his side away from her.

  By the even sound of his breathing it took him no time at all to fall asleep. Nora tossed and turned, imagining a hundred things she could do to make J.B. miserable before sleep finally claimed her.

  Chapter Four

  Nora glanced at one side of the street then the other as J.B. guided their wagon along the main thoroughfare through town. Although still small, Pendleton was growing. There were four stores, including Nora’s favorite mercantile, as well as a hotel, numerous saloons, two livery stables, one barber shop, a harness shop, several blacksmith shops, a school, post office, the land office, the express office, the courthouse and jail. In addition, there were nearly thirty homes.

  As they drove past the courthouse, Nora glanced at the well across the street where she and J.B. had spent a few lovely evenings getting to know some of the residents of town. A grassy plot surrounded the well then. The community tended to gather there of an evening to visit and drink of the cold, sweet water that was better than any Nora had tasted.

  Now, though, snow covered the grass and everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the frigid weather.

  Nora glanced down at the heavy buffalo robe covering her from chin to toes. She had no idea where J.B. had acquired it. In spite of a smell she found slightly offensive, it kept her warm. She just hoped the odor didn’t attach itself to her. The thought of going into Mr. Johnson’s mercantile smelling like a wild beast didn’t hold a bit of appeal.

  Then again, according to her husband, she had smelled like one yesterday morning. He might not have been far from the truth, but she would never admit it.

  She shifted her thoughts from J.B. dumping her in the bathtub to the festive appearance of the stores in town. Greens and ribbons decorated several of the storefronts, offering reminders that Christmas was coming.

  When J.B. stopped the wagon outside the mercantile, he stepped down then held up his hands to her. He swung her onto the wooden walk in front of the store. Nora had visited all of the shops in town, but had quickly decided she preferred Mr. Johnson’s stock and service to any other. He was a young man, newly wed, and had traveled west to make his own way. From what he’d shared, Mr. Johnson had grown up with three brothers, all working in his father’s prosperous store back east. Now, he planned to build up his own successful enterprise.

  She glanced at his front window and smiled at the sight of toys and gift items on display amid spools of green and red ribbon.

  J.B. held open the door and Nora breezed inside, drawing in a breath. The store smelled of spices and coffee with a citrus scent. She glanced down at baskets of oranges and made a note to make sure she purchased a few.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Nash! How nice to see you both,” Mr. Johnson said from his place behind the counter. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I have a list of things I need,” Nora said, taking a list she’d written out that morning before they left for town. She wasn’t sure how many opportunities she’d have to shop before Christmas and wanted to stock up while she could. “And if you’d be so kind to add a dozen oranges, I’d so appreciate it.”

  “I’ll be happy to take care of it. If you’d like to look around, I can start gathering the necessary items,” Mr. Johnson said, reaching for a basket of oranges.

  Nora smiled and tipped her head to him. “Thank you.”

  J.B. stood so close behind her she could feel heat radiating off him and warming her back. Attired in a fashionable dress that was a shade between gray and blue that perfectly matched her eyes, she wore a dark blue wool coat with a matching hat.

  One of the first things she intended to do was purchase several yards of black Parramatta silk to make a suitable dress to wear to church. She’d also get black bombazine fabric to create a few work dresses for home. She couldn’t imagine what people might say about her not wearing proper mourning clothes.

  After she came out of mourning for her father and brother, J.B. had burned every last speck of black clothing she owned and declared she’d never wear black again. She supposed she could attempt to dye her dresses, but it seemed easier to make a few to tide her over for the next year. On the ranch, it probably wouldn’t matter quite as much, but she needed to wear mourning when she attended church or went shopping.

  Although she loved the fashionable ensemble she wore, she was embarrassed to be seen in it. However, there was no help for it at the moment.

  “Will you be fine if I see to a few other errands?” J.B. asked, his breath warm on her neck as he leaned over her.

  “Yes, of course. Please go do whatever it is you must.” She moved away from him and waved her hand dismissively in the direction of the door.

  Although she didn’t look, she could almost hear her husband roll his eyes before he walked out of the store. When the door closed behind him, Nora released the breath she’d been holding and began wandering along the aisles of the store, searching for gifts.

  She wanted to get something special for each of their ranch hands. Gifts would also be appropriate for Mr. and Mrs. Tooley as well as the Erickson family. Whether she was mad at him or not, she supposed she should think of a gift for J.B., too.

  After browsing the stock available, she selected gloves for the ranch hands along with a book she thought each of them might enjoy. She added an additional pair of gloves for J.B. With no idea what to g
ive the Tooleys, she decided she’d consult with J.B. Perhaps she’d have time to make something for Mrs. Tooley, but she was already doing the tablecloth and napkins for Mrs. Erickson and she didn’t want to rush and make mistakes. No, a gift that could be given to Mr. and Mrs. Tooley together would be best, only she had no idea what.

  Nora studied the selection of toys and she almost danced in delight when she saw a wooden Noah’s Ark complete with an assortment of animals. Little Erik Erickson would love it. He enjoyed animals of all shapes and sizes and would no doubt have a grand time playing with it. Snatching it from the display, Nora carried it up to the counter where Mr. Johnson gathered items from her list.

  “Finding quite a few things, Mrs. Nash?” he asked as he set a bag of walnuts into a box.

  “I am, Mr. Johnson. You have such a wonderful selection of merchandise.” She smiled and leaned toward him. “I don’t suppose you know if Mr. and Mrs. Tooley own a stereoscope, do you?”

  Mr. Johnson grinned. “I don’t believe they do. When they were in, Mr. Tooley was looking at them, but Mrs. Tooley assured him they didn’t need to waste their money on such frivolities.”

  “I’d like to get one for them, please, for Christmas. You’ll keep that a secret, won’t you?”

  The young man nodded. “Of course, Mrs. Nash. We have some that are expensive, some that fit even a minimal budget, but I recommend the model manufactured by W.H. Lewis. It’s moderately priced and well-built.”

  “Then that’s the one I’d like to purchase, please.” Nora moved back and returned to perusing the merchandise. She found a book by Mark Twain she knew J.B. would enjoy and added it to the basket she’d picked up to carry her selections.

  The gloves and book would be enough for J.B., wouldn’t they? Normally, she found something special, something personal and sweet that he treasured, but her heart wasn’t in it this year. Not when it grieved for her baby.

  Nora felt tears burning her eyes. She took a moment to gaze out the store window and compose herself before she continued shopping.

  She’d just gone to look through the fabric and notions when she heard the bell tinkle above the door. No doubt, J.B. would soon return, so she hurried to find the black fabric, buttons, and thread she’d need. She chose fabric to make the napkins to go with Mrs. Erickson’s tablecloth and added it to the pile she’d set on the cutting counter.

  Mrs. Johnson hurried from the storeroom in her direction. “I didn’t realize anyone was waiting to have fabric cut, Mrs. Nash. My apologies,” the woman said, moving behind the cutting counter and picking up a pair of scissors. “How may I be of assistance?”

  Nora had her cut the fabric for the napkins, and then several yards of red and green ribbon for Christmas. The woman had just spread out the black bombazine when the scent of J.B.’s shaving soap filled her nose. She felt the warmth of his presence behind her.

  “We won’t need any of that, Mrs. Johnson.” J.B. smiled at the woman as she stood with scissors poised to slice through the fabric.

  “Yes, we will.” Nora nodded at her encouragingly. Angry he dared interfere with something she viewed as a vital necessity, she refused to turn around and look at him.

  “No, we won’t. If it’s black, it isn’t going home with us.” J.B. put a hand on Nora’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “I refuse to see my wife spend a year of misery in those insufferable mourning clothes. I simply won’t stand for it.”

  Mrs. Johnson smiled and set the scissors on a shelf beneath the counter. “I wish more people thought like you, Mr. Nash. I hated wearing mourning clothes when my father passed away. It’s so… depressing and uncomfortable.” The woman set the bolts of black cloth and trims aside then motioned to a bolt of gray watered silk that shimmered like the inside of an oyster shell. “When this fabric arrived, I immediately thought of you, Mrs. Nash. It matches the color of your eyes.”

  “It is lovely,” Nora said, fingering the cloth with longing, then shaking her head. “But I don’t believe it’s something I need. Thank you, though. It was very thoughtful of you to suggest it.”

  “How much of that would you need for a dress?” J.B. asked.

  “We aren’t taking any,” Nora said, turning her head to glare at her husband.

  “Yes, we will.”

  “We most certainly won’t.” Nora gritted her teeth. She scowled so fiercely at her husband he took a staggering step back.

  “Whatever you say, dear,” J.B. said in a mocking tone. He took her elbow in his hand and guided her toward the front counter. “Did you finish your shopping, other than attempting to buy black fabric?”

  “I suppose,” she said, glad the fabric for the napkins covered the book she’d chosen for him. “I found gloves for our hired men, and a gift for Mr. and Mrs. Tooley. Oh, and the cutest little ark for Erik. I’m not certain what to get Mr. Erickson, though. I’m making Mrs. Erickson a tablecloth with matching napkins.”

  J.B. gave her a thoughtful look. “You’ve been busy while I was running errands. I think Einar might appreciate a nice pair of gloves and he seems quite partial to chocolate. Maybe we could include a box of candy?”

  “That’s a fine idea. Would you mind getting the gloves and chocolate while I select a few additional spices I forgot to add to my list?”

  With a nod, J.B. disappeared down an aisle. Nora quickly set her basket on the counter and quietly asked Mr. Johnson to wrap the book and one pair of gloves in paper so J.B. wouldn’t see them.

  The storekeeper hurriedly wrapped the book and gloves in a piece of red paper then tucked the package into the side of one of the boxes he’d filled with supplies.

  Nora picked up a small tin of ginger and one of cloves, adding them to her purchases. She hoped she hadn’t forgotten anything important.

  Furious over J.B. refusing to allow her to purchase the black material she needed, she decided she’d just dye a few of the outfits she already owned.

  “Mr. Johnson, do you carry dye for fabric?” she asked sweetly. “I’m in need of black dye.”

  “We do carry that. The dye is by the notions. The instructions to use it are on the back of the package.”

  “No dye,” J.B. said as he reappeared behind Nora. “No dye, no black fabric, no mourning clothes.”

  “Please, J.B.” Nora would beg if she had to. “I must have at least one mourning dress. It’s only proper.”

  “No.” He frowned at her as he set a pair of gloves and a large box of chocolates on the counter.

  “Just one?” she asked, as anger mingled with desperation. Tears stung her eyes and she fought the urge to pummel her hard-headed husband.

  “No.” J.B. placed his hand on her back and rubbed it in a gentle circle. “I spoke with the pastor and some of the others and they agree you needn’t spend a year wearing those horrid mourning clothes.”

  Unable to contain her emotions, Nora tipped her head down to hide the tears spilling over her cheeks. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Johnson. I greatly appreciate it.”

  Before the man could respond, she rushed outside and let the frosty air cool her temper. She walked around the corner and saw J.B. had parked the wagon so it could easily be reached from the boardwalk. Although it was cold and a few inches of snow were on the ground, the street was a muddy, rutted mess.

  Once, after church, she’d heard someone who had lived in the area several years say that in the summer dust was up to their knees and in the winter it turned to mud. She could almost believe the exaggerated statement. By the time cooler weather had arrived in the autumn, dust hung so thick in the air, Nora could almost taste it. Now, it appeared she’d experience the mud.

  Without waiting for J.B.’s assistance, Nora climbed onto the wagon seat. It wasn’t long before he appeared carrying two boxes of supplies while Mr. Johnson carried a third. J.B. went back inside the store and returned carrying a large bag of flour and a smaller one of sugar. After securing them in the back of the wagon, he climbed up beside her and snapped the reins.<
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  “How about lunch at the hotel?” he asked as he guided the team down the street.

  Nora was still so mad at him, she couldn’t speak, but she was hungry. She nodded her head in agreement.

  Chapter Five

  J.B. parked the wagon on the side of the hotel and helped Nora down, making sure she stayed out of the mud. He didn’t try to engage her in conversation as they ate a warm, filling lunch of chicken and vegetables in a thick cream sauce served over mashed potatoes followed by slices of apple pie. It wasn’t until they were back in the wagon, heading out of town, that he spoke.

  “I need to pick up the laundry I left here last week,” he said, stopping the team outside a structure that looked as though a strong wind might send it tumbling across the sagebrush-dotted hills behind it. Warped, weathered boards had been hammered together in such a way that there were gaps big enough for a cat to run through. The building was missing half the roof and leaned to one side, as though it couldn’t bring itself to stand up straight.

  “This is the laundry?” Nora asked, unable to hide her shock at the derelict place. She had doubts anything that came out of a place that looked so awful would ever come clean.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” he said, swinging off the wagon then glancing up at the roof. “Looks like Mrs. Gibson’s tarp blew off again. I’ll see if she needs help fastening it down, but you stay here.”

  Nora waited until J.B. knocked on the door and stepped inside before she climbed off the wagon and followed him. On silent feet, she opened the door and walked inside a one-room shack. The floor was dirt, the walls were bare, and a woman with two small children hanging on her skirts stood by a stove, ironing a pristine white shirt. A large pot bubbled on the stove, but it smelled of soap, not food.

  The woman wielding the iron looked weary beyond measure, beaten down by life, and broken by her circumstances. Her hair hung in limp strands around a face that was flushed from work. Sweat beaded her brow and lines fanned out from her eyes.