“Aye, Captain.” J.T. took the pail from her and saluted.
She shoved him. “Stop it, you rascal. I need to get changed.” Delia flounced past him, then stopped short. “Oh! I completely forgot about the tin plates, napkins, forks.”
J.T. steered her back toward her room. “I’ll gather all that stuff. Go get ready. At this rate, the activities are going to be half over before we get there.”
With a reluctant nod, she headed off to change. She couldn’t let him handle things completely, though, for every few minutes she shouted through the closed door for him to pack something else. A bread knife, the box of tumblers for the lemonade and cider that would be available, two or three old quilts, and on and on until he started to doubt they’d have any room left in the wagon for passengers.
Once everything was finally loaded, J.T. pulled his suit coat from the back of a kitchen chair and slipped his arms into the sleeves. It seemed backward to him to dress up in his Sunday best for a picnic, but women insisted on wearing their finest to these rare social events, and their men were expected to follow suit. He settled the wool coat on his shoulders, gave it a tug, and strode down the hall to rap on Delia’s door. “Come on. You’ve primped enough. Ike’s going to think you stood him up if we don’t get a move on.”
The hinges creaked as she eased the door open. Delia took a tentative step, then bit her lip and ran a hand down the front of her dress. “I feel like I’m a little girl again, dressing up in Mama’s clothes. Do I look ridiculous?”
J.T. couldn’t speak. He just stared at the lovely woman his sister had become, wondering how he could have missed seeing it until this moment. The dress’s green fabric warmed her complexion and brought her face to life. At the same time, the tailored top and striped skirt flattered her figure, nipping in at her newly trim waist and hinting at the curves that remained beneath. She’d even refashioned her bonnet, adding a green ribbon and delicate sprigs of flowers. Hannah had brought the butterfly out of her cocoon. A little color, a sophisticated design, and several weeks of friendship and encouragement had turned a plain Delia into a rare beauty.
He held his hand out to her and led her into the hall so he could make a circle around her. When he faced her again, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You look stunning, Delia. Truly. Not even our mother could compare.”
“Do you think Ike will approve?”
Offering Delia his arm, J.T. swallowed his guffaw. “Darlin’, I doubt he’ll be able to take his eyes off of you long enough to do much else.”
Seeing her face light up in pleasure warmed J.T.’s heart. He had kept her a prisoner in those drab dresses for too long. Come Christmas, he’d buy her lengths of cloth in sunshine yellow, bluebonnet blue, and prairie grass green to replace her navy, brown, and gray housedresses. Practical could still be pretty.
And wouldn’t Hannah laugh her hat off if she ever heard him say such a thing.
They closed up the house and headed to Louisa’s place. The three kids whooped and danced about as J.T. turned the wagon and parked in front of the laundry. Louisa scolded them halfheartedly, unable to keep her smile at bay. Their contagious excitement soon infected them all.
J.T. took her basket laden with still more food and packed it away with the rest of the feast while Louisa fussed over Delia’s new dress and shared tips on how best to clean the lightweight wool fabric. The kids scrambled into the bed of the wagon, eager to be on their way. As J.T. rearranged things to maximize space, Tessa jumped to her feet and waved vigorously.
“Miss Hannah! Miss Hannah! Are you ready for the picnic?”
A low laugh sounded behind him. “I most certainly am. And I brought something for all of us to play with after the games are through.”
J.T. turned to greet her as the kids clamored for her to show them the surprise that her left hand secreted behind her flowing skirts. He didn’t recognize the wine-colored dress she wore, but it did a marvelous job of accentuating her slim figure and setting off her pale hair. The design was simple and almost plain in comparison to Delia’s, yet she carried it with such elegance that, to him, she looked like a queen.
Hannah glanced at him as she neared his side and offered a secret smile that immediately set his mind on kisses and long private walks.
“If Mr. Tucker would be so good as to take this pie for me, I’ll show you what I brought.”
He reached beneath the pie plate in her right hand and grazed her fingers. Making a show of holding the dessert to his nose, he drew whisper-soft circles on the back of her wrist. “Mmmm. Smells like apple.” Then he tilted his head to meet her gaze. “I can’t wait for a taste.”
Fire rose in her cheeks, and she snatched her hand away so fast he nearly dropped the pie. The basket hanging from the crook of her right elbow swung precariously until she steadied it with her hip. She straightened her arm and angled it downward until the handle of the basket slipped into her hand. Then she thrust it at him with a chiding glance that made him laugh.
Throughout it all, she kept her surprise safely out of the children’s view with her opposite arm. Stepping away from him, she pulled it out from behind her skirts with a flourish.
“A kite!” Tessa hopped up and down, clapping her hands. The wagon creaked in protest, but no one seemed to care. “And you used the pretty material I like so much. Can I fly it first?”
Danny shot to his feet. “I’m the oldest. I should go first.”
“What about me?” Mollie whined.
Hannah grinned at the children. “Everyone will get a turn. I promise.” Then her eyes narrowed. “But the next person who asks to go first will wait the longest.”
Each little mouth closed, and all three youngsters plopped back down on their bottoms. J.T. was duly impressed.
Reaching around her, he wedged the pie into a protected corner and found a place for the basket, as well. He pivoted back to Hannah and held his palm out. “Your kite, milady?”
She curtsied and handed it to him. “Why, thank you, Sir Tucker. Take care, though. The fabric is wont to snag.”
J.T. bowed in return, and the children giggled at their antics. The fabric in question was a rich violet hue that shimmered in the sunlight. He ran his finger across the kite’s diamond-shaped body. Its smooth, luxurious texture surprised him.
“Is this silk?” he whispered in her ear.
“Just a small piece.” She kept smiling at the children as she spoke to him out of the corner of her mouth. “Tessa has admired that cloth for weeks. This way she can enjoy it.”
It had to be one of the most expensive fabrics she carried in her shop, yet she’d made it into a kite to please an eight-year-old girl. “You know it’ll probably just get hung up in a tree, right?”
“I certainly hope so.” This time she turned her smile on him. “Half the fun of kite flying is rescuing them when they go astray.”
Her frolicsome spirit charmed him, heightening his anticipation of spending the day with her.
“All right, everyone,” he announced in a loud voice. “Load up. We’ve got a picnic to go to.”
J.T. carefully balanced the kite frame between the bread and sandwich baskets while Louisa seated herself on the tailgate of the wagon, her feet dangling above the road.
“I’ll sit back here with my young’uns,” she said, waving off J.T.’s offer to ride up front. “That there driver’s seat will be crowded enough without me trying to cram in, too.”
J.T. tipped his hat to her and made his way to the other ladies waiting patiently for his assistance. He made sure to hand Hannah up first so she could sit next to him. Settling beside her, glad for the tight quarters as his leg pressed against hers, he took up the reins and released the brake. “Everybody ready?”
A chorus of affirmative responses rang out, the women in the front equaling the volume of the kids in the rear. Grinning like a kid himself, J.T. snapped the leather straps and set the vehicle in motion. Something told him this would be a Founders’ Day he’d not soon forget.
Thanks to the group’s high spirits, Hannah didn’t think about their need to cross the river at the ill-fated bridge until it was upon them. She tried to hide her unease beneath a pasted-on smile, but Jericho must have felt her tension, for he took her hand and hooked it under his arm before they reached the wooden structure. Grateful to have something solid to hold on to, and equally grateful that he had the good sense to keep both hands on the reins, Hannah gripped his bicep, comforted by the undeniable strength of the muscle beneath her fingers.
The wheels rolled onto the bridge planks, making a series of hollow thumps. The kids chattered, wind strummed through the river birch leaves, and the horses’ hooves clip-clopped in a blend of sound that would have brought a sense of peaceful harmony to any other listener. Yet the roar in Hannah’s memory drowned out the gentle song. Her hold on Jericho’s arm tightened.
She knew she was being foolish. The river had receded. It was no more threatening than a tub of bathwater. Nevertheless, that logic failed to drive out her fear.
Jericho hugged her hand to his side by squeezing his arm against his ribcage, which helped a bit, but when he started humming, she finally began to relax. The low vibrations calmed and soothed her, and the odd thought that he probably used the same technique on his nervous mares made her lips twitch in genuine amusement. The deep melody of “Rock of Ages” moved through her like hot chocolate, warming her spirit and restoring her equilibrium. Jericho sat solid at her side, but there was another who offered an even greater security, and it was that reminder, more than the soothing hum of the music, that finally banished her fear.
As they returned to the road, Hannah slid her hand out from Jericho’s arm. He turned and frowned at her, pointedly looking at her hand as if to chastise it for abandoning its post. She smiled at him and mouthed the words
Thank you
. He winked, then refocused his attention on driving.
They turned north and followed the river until they came upon a glen overflowing with wagons, buggies, and more people than Hannah had ever seen in Coventry at one time. Men tossed horseshoes while women tended babies and visited with neighbors. Girls rolled barrel hoops across the open prairie, and boys chased each other around the grounds while trying to snitch food when their mothers weren’t looking. Old folks sat in the shade of the limestone grist mill near the edge of the river and oversaw the distribution of lemonade and cider from the large jugs and kegs available on a sawhorse table sheltered by the east wall.
Hannah struggled to take everything in as the wagon bumped off the road and moved toward an oak tree that would offer the horses and picnickers a touch of shade. “Is the entire county here?” she asked as the General waggled over a particularly uneven stretch of terrain. Stuck in the middle with no handle to grab for balance, she alternated pitching into Jericho and Cordelia until Jericho wrapped his arm around her shoulders and anchored her to his side.
“No, only about a third of the county shows up for Coventry’s Founders’ Day celebration.” Jericho glanced down at her, and Hannah blinked. In the cozy pocket beneath his arm, she’d forgotten she’d even asked the question. “Meridian is the county seat, so most go to their events, but we get farmers and ranchers from within a ten-mile radius or so.”
The ground flattened out again as they neared the tree, yet Jericho made no move to release his hold on her. Not that Hannah minded. Well, she minded the amused glances Cordelia kept shooting at her, but she discovered that if she leaned her head slightly into Jericho’s chest, she no longer saw them.
All too soon, though, Jericho pulled the rig to a halt. “We’re here!”
His announcement was met with squeals of delight and clunking footfalls as the James children scampered out of the wagon bed.
“Stay where I can see you,” Louisa warned as the youngsters ran to join their friends.
Jericho got out and circled the wagon to help Cordelia alight, then reached for Hannah. His hands lingered at her waist longer than they had on his sister, and a secret little thrill coursed through her. He graced her with one of his rare, glorious smiles that turned her bones to jelly and then left her in her wobbly state in order to unload the mountain of food Cordelia had packed. It took two large breaths and a stern mental lecture on the fortitude of the Richards women before Hannah’s bones stiffened enough to allow her to assist the others.
Louisa spread the quilts out and secured them against the wind with rocks and some of the larger food dishes while Jericho took care of the horses. Cordelia shuffled food back and forth, emptying baskets and organizing everything. Not wanting to interfere with her system, Hannah opted to play it safe and unpack the plates and utensils. As she stacked the forks on top of a pile of bleached linen napkins, she caught a glimpse of Jericho walking toward the group of men congregated at a sandy patch of ground that served as the horseshoe pit.
She admired his confident stride and the way the group eagerly welcomed him into their midst. He was a man a woman would take pride in calling husband. And despite the fact that she had no legal claim to him yet, the possessiveness surging through her veins was undeniable.
Like a cowboy working a herd, Jericho wove in and out of the group until he culled out the steer he wanted. Then with a wave, he and the slightly shorter man departed. She couldn’t make out the other fellow’s features from this distance, but there was no doubt of his identity.
Pushing aside the box of tumblers she had just opened, Hannah turned to warn Cordelia. In an effort to lay everything out to perfection, she was bent at the waist, painstakingly arranging deviled egg halves in the shape of a daisy on a round platter. The eggs were lovely, but Hannah feared Ike would be too undone by the sight of Cordelia’s upended back end to notice. Not exactly the first impression they had envisioned for this all-important day.
Hannah rushed to her friend’s side and tried to straighten her posture.
“Just a minute.” Cordelia resisted Hannah’s efforts, all those exercises lending her an inconvenient amount of strength. “I only have two more—”