Laurie Kingery - Hill Country Courtship

Did Maude Harkey wonder why he put up with his mother’s difficult behavior, or did she just assume he paid as much attention to the Fifth Commandment—to honor one’s parents—as much as the others? She’d wonder more after she met the woman, that was sure.

As his mother’s only child, it fell to him to care for Coira MacLaren. He was indebted to her for his existence—in more ways than one. His debt to his mother was too great to leave her to fend for herself. He was a man grown and then some, but he’d never forget he owed the woman his very survival. He’d keep her secret— their secret—forever.

He would not shirk his duty to ensure her well-being in return, even if the weight of the load sometimes felt like more than he could bear. He had no choice but to carry it alone. He had no siblings living to help him, and there was not—would never be—a wife to share his life, to halve his burdens and double his joys.

What had happened in the past had kept him from marriage, both before the war and since. He wouldn’t subject a wife to the kind of man he was likely to become as his father’s son.

* * *

Juana found Maude beating the kitchen rug, which she’d hung on the line, as if she meant to smash it into clumps of thread. Particles of dust flew from the abused rug at the ferocity of her blows.

“Maude, what are you doing? I expected you to come back upstairs and tell me what the man said. Instead I find you trying to murder a rug, no?”

Maude turned to the young widow, realizing she was out of breath and that her right shoulder ached with the exertion. Perhaps she had been beating the rug just a hair too vigorously. “N-no,” she panted, but couldn’t smother a chuckle at the thought of murdering a rug.

“Oh, Juana, h-he just makes me so angry! Not only did he expect us to drop everything and leave with him this very day, but after I explained that out of decency I needed to attend April Mae’s burial first, he said he’d send a wagon to come and collect us tomorrow afternoon—as if we were sacks of flour! Honestly, if I didn’t need to provide a home for little Hannah, I’d tell him he could take his wagon and drive right off a cliff!”

She wasn’t about to tell Juana how MacLaren had bridled at the idea of taking her and baby Hannah, too. Juana might well refuse to go if she felt that she would not be welcomed at the ranch—and who could blame her? Then the whole plan would fall apart. A home for Hannah would do no good if there was no way to see to the child’s needs at the ranch.

Juana studied her, worry furrowing her brow. “ Mi amiga , you have the temper of a true pelirroja , a redhead. And you are overheated,” she said, reaching out to brush a red curl that had escaped from Maude’s coiffure away from her damp forehead. “Come sit down on the porch for a moment and I will fetch us some lemonade. Then you can tell me all about the man and what he said. I would like to know more about where we will be going tomorrow. Remember, you only told me we might be going to live on a ranch.”

Maude felt her fury slipping away like an ebbing tide in the face of Juana’s calm. She did owe her new friend an explanation. With a guilty start, she realized she had not even asked Juana if she would mind the additional duties, on top of Hannah’s care, before offering her assistance to the housekeeper. “Is Hannah asleep?”

Juana nodded. “Mrs. Meyer said she would listen for her. I will fetch the lemonade and then you will tell me all, yes?”

“Yes,” Maude agreed. “And thank you, lemonade sounds lovely.”

And it was lovely, indeed, when Juana returned with the two glasses moments later. After a few refreshing sips to restore her calm, Maude began her tale.

“He sounds proud as a Spanish grandee,” Juana said sometime later, when Maude had told her the full story, from their meeting at the Spinsters’ Club barbecue to MacLaren’s final words about sending a man with a wagon to “collect” them.

“And yet he tolerates his mother behaving like a tyrant, apparently.”

Juana shrugged. “She is his mother. He respects her.” It seemed to be explanation enough for her.

“I wonder if that’s the only reason? And why is he so high-handed about everything?”

Juana muttered something in Spanish. “That is our equivalent of your Anglo saying, ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’ If his mother likes to give orders, then perhaps that is why he does, as well. What he needs is a wife to keep him in line. I wonder why such a handsome man is not married? I peeked from the window upstairs when he was leaving,” she admitted with a chuckle. “He is so tall...and his bearing—like a king!”

“Who’d marry such an arrogant man?” Maude retorted, though she had to admit to herself that Juana was right about MacLaren’s appearance. It was a pity his personality wasn’t as pleasing as his looks. “Even if some woman has considered it, his mother probably scared her off.”

Juana laughed, and Maude let herself laugh with her. She felt her earlier tension dissolving.

“Maude, don’t worry. It will be all right. You will learn to deal with his mother, and little Hannah will have a place to grow up with you. And who knows? We may even come to like it there.”

Maude blinked at the other woman’s unquestioning acceptance. “You don’t mind that I told him you would help the housekeeper? I’m sorry that I didn’t even ask you first.” She had taken so much for granted.

Juana shrugged. “I was busy from dawn to dusk running our household when Tomás was alive. I don’t think I would enjoy being idle. I will be happy to help Senora Morales, when the little niña doesn’t need me. And now, if you don’t mind, I had better go tell my mother what I will be doing and take my leave of the family. I will take little Hannah with me. Mama will be so busy admiring her that she won’t think to object to my going so far away, I hope,” Juana added with a wink.

“And I had better tell Mrs. Meyer what we’ll be doing, then check with Reverend Chadwick to make sure he can do the funeral service in the morning,” Maude said.

Perhaps the preacher would have some wise counsel on how to deal with people such as the MacLarens, mother and son. What had she been thinking, to take on such a challenge? Was she at all suited to be a companion, much less to a woman of strong temper who would need soothing? She wasn’t the sweet and agreeable type full of soft answers that turned away wrath. She could be as fiery as her red hair and as full of opinions as a cactus was of stickers. But she had to make a success of this, or she would have no place to live with little Hannah.

Lord, help me! I’m taking on the impossible!

She shook away the thought. She had to remember that with the Lord, all things were possible.

Even putting up with Jonas MacLaren.

* * *

Mrs. Meyer was predictably dismayed when she learned of Maude’s plans. “Maude, I was planning on you inheritin’ the boardinghouse when I die, since my children don’t want to move back here and take it on. I thought of us as partners here. Was that nothing to you? Now you’re going to go somewhere else, leaving me behind?”

She saw hurt and insecurity lining the woman’s red-rimmed eyes, and felt a moment of regret at causing her pain. Truly, the woman had been kind and generous to her from the start. And the boardinghouse was a good, honest business. It just wasn’t the right business for Maude—not right now, with the responsibility for Hannah’s care resting on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Meyer. I hope you still think the place would be in good hands if I managed it someday—and we all hope that’s a very long time from now,” she assured the boardinghouse proprietress. “No one’s saying I will be living at Five Mile Hill Ranch for the rest of my life. I’m going to go try it. If I don’t like it, I’ll be back.”