Chapter 33

Violet’s home offered a small porch overlooking the back yard. She had two trees, a vegetable patch, and tidy flower beds lining the walkway. A hitching post and small wooden structure that Lily supposed held wood filled the remainder of the space.

Peaceful—and out of sight. She sat there now with her feet propped on an upturned basket. Thinking came easily in the quiet atmosphere. She still heard wagon wheels and the occasional stubborn mule, but she felt hidden and that’s what mattered.

Her sisters would fall under malicious gossip if they were too strongly associated with her when she had the baby. She would not put them in that predicament. By her estimate, she had a few months before her condition became apparent. Time enough to plan and relocate.

The door opened, then closed, when Violet stepped out. She sat on the other chair and put her feet on the wooden railing.

“No one tells you that teaching is hard on the feet. Oh, some days they ache so.” She turned and grinned. “But when they do I sit back here, grateful Mother can’t see me, and put them up for a bit. Works like a charm.”

“I won’t tell your secret. After all, you’re keeping one of mine.” A long sigh escaped her, dropping her shoulders down. “They will be so disappointed when they learn what’s happened. Me, the one they held up to the highest standards, bringing shame on them.”

The other woman shook her head. “It’s a baby, not a train robbery. And women have been in this way from the dawn of time, sister. You need to be kinder to yourself and allow that you’re human—and that this didn’t happen on its own. Are you ready to talk about it? I assume it’s Warren, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s Warren. But no, I’m not ready to discuss it and I’m not sure I ever will be.” A small black-and-white bird landed on the railing beyond the basket near her feet. It hopped a bit then turned its black eyes on her and stared. She addressed her words to the newcomer. “And no, I’m not giving details, no matter how hard you press.”

The bird fluttered its wings before taking off.

“Well, I guess you told him,” Violet teased. She placed her hands together and flapped them, imitating a birds’ wings. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could chase off all our troubles that way?”

Silence fell between them, the comfortable kind that she had no desire to spoil by speaking. More birds came by, settled, and then flew off. The sound of a horse whinnying reached them. Leaves rustled in one of the trees.

It all reminded her of being at Theo’s homestead, where the air kissed her cheeks and smelled so sweet. Solitude brought serenity, and she’d felt it there.

Her sister cleared her throat. “Theo stopped by. I told him you weren’t available to visitors, the way you asked, but I have to tell you he looked saddened when I said it. The man cares for you, Lily, I know he does.”

“Well, it looks like he’s spreading that caring nature around town, doesn’t it?” She sounded like a scorned woman and didn’t like it, but the words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. “That sounds awful, I know. I can’t be caught up with a man who talks up every female in town. Besides, once he learns of my condition he’ll drop me like a hot potato, so what’s the point?”

“He could think the child his own, couldn’t he?” Her sister turned to her and lifted an eyebrow. “What man wouldn’t love a beautiful child?”

“You mean…”

A nod. “I do.”

“Violet! What would Mother say?” The very idea almost shocked her as much as the fact she’d gotten pregnant to begin with.

The eyebrow rose still higher. “She’d say that a woman should do whatever it takes to make a secure life for herself and her child, that’s what. It’s a hard place for women, this western frontier. We need to pull together and if that means turning the tables on men every now and again, so be it.”

The younger sister had certainly grown up. Admiration made her heart warm as she reached a hand across the space between them to grab Violet’s.

“When did you get so worldly, little sister?” The smile pulled her lips high at the edges and chased some of the gloom from her mind. “I’m proud of you.”

Her sister gave her hand a squeeze, the way she had when they were children.

“Not all learning takes place in a schoolroom.”

“Or teaching, either. You’ve just schooled me, out here on this porch.”