No Buttons Or Beaux Page 3

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” Eric took her by the wrists and turned her hands palm upward. “The blisters have to be tender. I don’t want you to pop them, though. It invites infection.”

  “Got a salve for her?” Peter asked.

  “That’s not necessary.” April pulled her hands back.

  “Actually, I prefer burns of this nature to be kept clean and dry.”

  “Burns of what nature?” Polly walked in, cradling her daughter.

  “April burnt her hands,” Peter said.

  “They’re fussing over nothing.” April walked over to her cousin. “How’s our pretty little Ginny Mae?”

  Peter stepped up and swiped the baby just before April took hold of her. “Yore in no shape to be totin’ a young’un.” He expertly popped the baby up by his shoulder and took to rocking her side-to-side.

  “She’s got a new trick,” Polly said. “This week, Ginny Mae decided to sit up all on her own.”

  “She’s bright-eyed as a bushy-tailed squirrel,” Peter announced. “Polly, April’s gonna need lotion for her hands. Cain you make her some?”

  “I’ll get on it right away.”

  “We’re gonna go yonder to White’s. We’ll drop back in afore we hie home.”

  Steps sounded on the boardwalk. Someone entered the office. “Doc? I got me a carbuncle on my leg. Tried a drawing salve on it, but I’m hurting.”

  To April’s surprise, Peter swiped a small towel, draped it over his shoulder, and switched Ginny Mae to that side. He patted the baby on the back as he said to Polly, “Looks like you and yore man got yore hands full. April and me—we’ll carry little Ginny Mae on over to the mercantile with us.”

  “There aren’t many men I’d trust with my baby,” Polly started rolling up her sleeves. “But I’ve seen you with so many little ones in your arms, you probably have more experience than I do.”

  “Comes from bein’ one of the eldest.” Peter gazed down at Ginny Mae and smiled as he tenderly toyed with her darling baby curls. All told, the three MacPherson brothers had fathered thirty-four children. Twenty-five survived. “From the time I was knee-high to a grasshopper, I was holdin’ or changin’ a wee one.”

  “I’ll hold her.” April reached over.

  Peter turned sideways so the baby was too far away for her to snag. “Nope. I’m gonna be stubborn here. Yore hands are tender. Not only that, but with Ginny Mae bein’ the first Chance girl in twenty years, you all hog her to yoreselves. Hit’s finally my turn to tote her, and that’s that.”

  “Do you need anything from the mercantile?” April tore her gaze away from the sweet sight of a big, strong man doting over a bitty baby girl and looked at Polly.

  “I went there earlier this morning.”

  “All right, then. Let’s get outta their way.” Peter took a step, then halted. “Polly? You gonna make that lotion smell good?”

  Laughter bubbled out of Polly. “You still haven’t forgiven me for using McLeans Volcanic Oil Liniment on you?”

  “Truth be told, I’d ruther tangle with a skunk than have you put that on me again. I’ve forgiven you, but I ain’t forgot. ’Twould be a cryin’ shame for you to make little April sommat even a portion that stinky.”

  “I’ll use calendula. It soothes skin and smells nice.” Polly smiled. “I planned to make you more soap, April, but I’ve been busy.”

  “Don’t push yourself,” April said. “I still have almost a whole bar.” As Peter walked her across the street, April fretted, “I should have brought food for Polly.”

  “This here babe is six months old. Polly’s got her feet back on the ground.”

  April stopped and gave him a telling look.

  Peter threw back his head and let out a belly laugh. Eyes twinkling, he leaned down and murmured, “I’ve suffered a few bellyaches from Polly’s cookin’. I reckon she’s given up and buys plenty of them fancy, canned vittles.”

  Shuddering, April whispered back, “She does.”

  “She and Doc look happy ’nuff.” Peter took her arm and pulled her across the street. “Fact is, we et some of them canned vittles when we went to Yosemite last summer. Ever’ last meal you made tasted grand. What you need to do is make shore when li’l Ginny Mae here comes to an age where she cain stand afore the stove, you teach her. Come the day she marries up, her man’s gonna thank you from the bottom of his heart.”

  “Are you sure it won’t be from the bottom of his stomach?”

  Peter grinned. “April, I truly like that ’bout you. You’ve got yoreself a quick mind, but you niver speak words that cut.”

  April blinked.

  “Now yore supposed to thank a buck when he pays you a compliment.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Welcome.” Peter continued to hold Ginny Mae against his shoulder as easily as could be and opened the door to the mercantile. When the bell rang, the baby let out a wail. “Now, don’t you be cloudin’ up and fixin’ to rain.” Peter shifted Ginny Mae and kissed her.

  “Hello,” Mrs. White called over from the produce display. Her face suddenly wrinkled in concern. “I didn’t realize you’d brought in your aunt Tempy’s baby! Oh, dear. And you went to see Doc. If you brought the baby, Tempy must be bad off and—”

  “No, no,” April hurriedly said. “It’s Polly’s little girl.”

  “All my kin are hale as horses.” Peter turned so Mrs. White could see Ginny Mae. “Doc and Polly are busy, so we took the prize and ran.”

  Mrs. White let out a tense laugh. “You had me worried for a moment there.”

  Ginny Mae continued to fuss. April said, “Not many men would call a noisy baby a prize.”

  “As I said yesternoon, no accountin’ for the foolish ways of others.”

  “I can hold her,” April offered as she reached for Ginny Mae.

  “Not with burnt hands, you won’t. Grab us up one of them baskets. I’ll tote it about whilst you fill it up with the stuff we need.”

  Mrs. White popped a cabbage onto the top of a pretty row. “If you brought a list, I could fill it for you.”

  April said, “Kate told me to ask if the rivets she wanted have arrived.”

  “I’ll take a look in the back room. There’s a crate of things I haven’t unpacked yet.”

  “Thanks.”

  Peter rhythmically patted Ginny Mae. “We’ll rustle up whate’er we need out here. April, how’s about you fetching the basket?”

  “The first thing we’re getting is the Jergens for your mother.”

  “Gladdens me that you remembered.” He followed her and swiped the basket she’d tried to hold. “Some of that Johnson & Johnson talc could help a bit if the lot of you are still rashy.”

  April’s jaw dropped.

  “Hot as it’s been, might as well get a canister for you and Kate to share in your cabin and another for the boys.” Calm as you please, he stood there, waiting for her to fill the basket.

  She grabbed a canister of talc and the lotion, then shoved them into the basket.

  Peter leaned down and stared her in the eye. “I ain’t a-gonna budge from this spot ’til you get the boys some talc. Tanner was itchin’ to beat the band at lunch yesterday.”

  April wanted to tell him the talc was for the boys, but she’d be lying. It was only merciful to get another. Putting a second one in the basket, she said brightly, “So what next?”

  Four

  “Johnna asked me to bring home some Mum.”

  Her face went burning hot. Horses sweat, men perspire, women glow. Her mother, having been a missionary who grew up wearing all of the proper clothing a true lady wore even in the brutal heat of the Hawaiian Islands, had quoted that phrase more than a few times. Buying a deodorant practically announced to all and sundry that a woman sweated like a draft horse.

  Peter grinned. “C’mon, April. After we went camping in Yosemite last year, you spoilt ordinary livin’ for us, totin’ along all those extry little thangs.”

  “Like what?�
� She hoped to distract him from the fact that she was slipping two packages of Mum deodorant into the basket.

  “Ulysses and me—we got the whole clan using Sheffield’s Crème Dentifrice now ’stead of just dippin’ into a box of bakin’ soda. Ma’s happy as a dog with two tails over it. That tube the cream comes in is right nifty, and we ain’t swiping stuff from the kitchen that the womenfolk were countin’ on.”

  “I’m surprised. I thought you were going to say you got started using Ivory soap, but Gabriel is the one who brought that to camp.”

  “Now that you mention it, I probably oughtta get a bar. Doc and Polly recommended Aunt Tempy use it on baby Artemis.”

  “The rivets are here,” Mrs. White called out. “And Peter? Your mother and aunts always make new outfits for the kids to wear to school. Do they need anything? Buttons? Thread?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The women shore have been stitchin’ a heap to make all the little ones new duds. Thankee for remindin’ me. They need more thread.”

  April walked over to the next aisle and reached for the gold. She didn’t need to ask about the color. The entire MacPherson family wore golden yellow. Years back, Peter’s uncles made that decision, and they’d stuck with it for the past decade. Once they determined to do something, the MacPherson men didn’t waver in the least. “One spool or two?”

  “Two. Iff’n they don’t need two now, ’twon’t go to waste in the future.”

  They moseyed around the store, filling the basket with embroidery floss, Semple’s chewing gum, cinnamon, and salt. “How’s about boot laces? I broke mine this mornin’ and tied it together. Twine’s a pain in the neck. Knots up and won’t let go, so a body has to lace in a new length each day.”

  “Why don’t you have Kate make you leather ones? She does it for all the Chance men.”

  “I hate botherin’ her.”

  “Nonsense.” April breezed by the laces and toward the ice box against the far wall. “I need to get some yeast.”

  “Best you toss in a few cakes of that Fleischmann’s for us, too. With Tempy just birthin’ Artemis, the women haven’t been to town in a few weeks. I’m guessin’ they’re runnin’ low and jist didn’t thank to ask me to stock up.”

  “I’m taking all of the yeast, Mrs. White. Will that be a problem?”

  “No, I’m due to get a new shipment in tomorrow at the latest. Peter, I ordered the sugar your mother said she wanted for canning. It’ll be in day after tomorrow.”

  “Obliged.”

  “It’s always fun to see what comes in.” Mrs. White fussed with her lace collar. “You’d think they’d be accustomed to me asking for all of the bags to be yellow after making that request for years on end.”

  “I didn’t get too excited last year. Most all of the sacks had posies all o’er ’em.” Peter grimaced. “Hit took Ulysses and me two whole days to talk the women outta stitchin’ us men shirts from that girly fabric.”

  “It’s a shame it wasn’t here for you today.”

  “I’m enjoyin’ the trip to town. Mayhap in a day or two, me and April will come back to pick up the sacks.”

  Putting the yeast on the counter, April looked at the contents of the basket and the small packet of rivets. “What a shame that the sugar hasn’t arrived. It’s hard to imagine we made a trip to town for such a paltry collection of things.”

  “Thangs don’t have to be big to be important.” Peter lowered Ginny Mae onto the counter and grinned as she teetered a little before managing to sit up. “Do they, l’il darlin’?”

  “Will there be anything else?” Mrs. White asked.

  “I’d like three yards of yellow flannel, please.”

  “What is she doin’, getting yeller?” Peter asked the baby, who promptly drooled all over the arm he used to steady her. “Don’t she ken the yeller’s for the MacPhersons?”

  “I sure do.” April smiled. “I thought I’d make a few gowns for Artemis.”

  “Now ain’t that sweet.”

  Mrs. White took the new bolt from the shelf and started to unroll it. Clucking her tongue, she frowned at the fabric. “Shameful. Just shameful. Look at that.” She unrolled more. “This flaw goes down the middle of the whole bolt!”

  “Wouldn’t be seen on a gallopin’ goose,” Peter said.

  April leaned forward. Carefully inspecting the flaw, she said, “I could work around this.”

  “I can’t charge you full price for spoiled goods. How about if you buy four yards and I sell it to you, two yards for a penny?”

  ❧

  After storing their purchases in the bed of the buckboard, Peter led April back into Polly and Doc’s place. “Got yoreself a peachy babe here. Sweet tempered and smart.”

  Doc pressed a kiss on Polly’s temple. “Yes, she is. I’m hoping Ginny Mae takes after her.”

  Peter laughed and slid the baby back into her mother’s arms. Someday, April and me—we’ll have a passel of young’uns of our own. I’m biding my time, Lord, but ’twouldn’t make me sad if You hurried things along a mite.

  “I made the lotion for you.” Polly nodded toward her husband’s desk. “There’s some for Greta and Kate, too. Peter, I made a salve there for Tempy to use on Artemis’s rash. That little baby has the most sensitive skin!”

  “Thankee. Aunt Tempy’s frettin’ like Artemis is her first ’stead of her tenth baby.”

  “I’ll try to get out to the ranch tomorrow or the next day.” Polly smiled at April. “I’ll help you wash your hair.”

  “I’d be grateful. Kate’s too busy to do it. I’m not sure when Greta will come home. Caleb is moping around without her.”

  “You’ve got yore hands full already, Polly. Johnna cain traipse over to holp April. Fact is, Ma and Aunt Eunice are puttin’ up tomatoes today. They plan to show up o’er at Chance Ranch to do the same tomorrow.”

  “But I—”

  Peter pressed a finger against April’s lips. “Now hush.” Despite his desire to do otherwise, he broke contact. “Greta’s away, and Kate cain’t do it all on her own. With yore hands all burnt, them tomatoes would go to waste. We cain’t abide seein’ good food squandered. Plenty’s the time you stood at the MacPherson stove in our times of need.”

  “If you expose those blisters to any heat, they’ll worsen,” Doc said. “Best thing for you is to use Polly’s lotion three times a day.”

  “Here’s a sugar sack for you to carry the things out to the buckboard.” Polly smiled as she handed the small cloth bag to Peter. “Tell Eunice to use it to make Elvera a bodice or little skirt.”

  “Lookie thar. Hit’s got yeller kittens all o’er.” He chuckled. “It stretches my mind to believe Hezzie’s a-gonna teach Elvera the difference ’twixt a kitty and a skunk.”

  “She was really cute,” April said.

  “Being cute didn’t take off the stink.”

  “To hear Eunice tell the story,” Polly said, “the juice from every last tomato in your garden didn’t, either.”

  “I’m surprised they’re canning tomatoes today.” Doc grinned. “I didn’t think you’d have any left.”

  “God gave us a bumper crop of ’em.” Peter grinned. “Guess it proves how He knows our needs even afore we know ’bout them.” He tucked the lotions and salve into the sack. “We’ll be headin’ out now.”

  When they reached the buckboard, April set a hand on the front wheel and started to put her foot on a spoke so she could climb up. Peter yanked her back and turned her around. “I’d be pleased to holp you up, miss.”

  Once they were seated and he’d headed out of town, he gave April an arch look. “You cain’t be jumpin’ outta the buckboard or scramblin’ in like a schoolgirl in pigtails.”

  Quick as a bunny, she turned her head away.

  Peter reached over and pressed against her right cheek, forcing her to face him. “What’s got into you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I got me sisters and girl cousins. One thang I ken: when any of ’em say ‘nothin,’ it’
s sommat big. Suppose you level with me.”

  A mirthless laugh burst out of her. “Something big. That’s me.”

  “You cain’t be tellin’ me yore afeared I cain’t heft you into a buckboard!”

  “Heft. That says it all.” Her face felt hot as embers beneath his fingers, and she lowered her lashes to keep from looking him in the eyes.

  “When sommat has a right feel in a man’s hand, he says it’s got a nice heft. When I wrap my hands ’round yore middle—hope you don’t take offense at me speakin’ plainly—you fill my hands real good.” He nodded. “Yup. You do. Me sayin’ heft—well, you oughta take that as a compliment.”

  April pulled away and covered her eyes and forehead with her palm. Fingers and thumb rubbed her temples as she muttered, “You’ve never had a sweetheart. What am I thinking, listening to your advice? This isn’t going to work.”

  “Hold it thar just a minute.”

  She gave him a baleful glare.

  Aware his plan was in jeopardy, Peter hurriedly said, “This bargain could benefit us both. Mayhap you could fill me in on a gal’s view on matters.”

  “You have sisters.”

  “And you’ve got brothers. Fact is, it cain be dreadful embarrassing to share yore innermost fears and failures with ’em.”

  April nodded.

  “I didn’t say ‘haul,’ so suppose you tell me what a gal would rather have a buck say.”

  “Lift.” She gave him a timid, half-smile. “You lift a lady into a wagon.”

  “Okay.” He smiled at her. “From now on, April, yore to wait for me to lift you in and out of the wagons. And yore s’posed to smile at me when I do. You got a smile that quickens a man’s heart. Why, any buck watchin’ is gonna be pea green with envy that I’m the one holping you.”

  “He’s liable to be grateful he’s not risking his back.”

  Peter heaved a loud sigh. “You gotta stop that. Any man who’s afeared he cain’t lift a woman oughtn’t be courtin’ at all. He should be visitin’ Doc to figger out what ails him!”

  He drove a little farther, then pulled back on the reins. “Whoa.”

  “Is something wrong? Why did we stop?”

  “On account of it bein’ lunchtime.” He hopped down, went around to April, and raised his hands toward her.