1886. Hattie Phelan, too sick to work in the factories, moves to live with her distant relatives in Iowa with Constance Daugherty, her fellow tenant from Chicago. Hattie, embittered at the death of her mother and leaving her father in Chicago, is an...
"Papa was wondering when the folks would arrive," he said before looking over everyone. "Looks like I didn't need to ask."
"Tell your papa that supper will be ready in ten minutes or so," Rebecka said, looking at Kenneth who just returned from the stable. "Where is Wally?"
"Probably counting chickens or mice," Nathan laughed dryly before getting a look from his mother.
"He is in the tool shed, I think," Kenneth answered his mother, stroking his growing beard.
"Whatever has he been doing in there for so long?" Miss Rebecka asked, striding over to the porch.
"Cleaning?" Kenneth asked half to himself before adding, "Would you like me to get him?"
"Yes! Our guests are here," Miss Rebecka called out as she entered the house, Aunt Margarette and Constance following.
I stood up before noticing that David was still looking at me. I laughed and gave him a wave. His eyes widened as he turned around to dash off towards the house.
"He is just shy," Nancy said as we walked inside the house. "He even gets that way with me after not seeing me for a while."
"He is so precious," was all I could say. Something about David made my heart warm and ache at the same time but I couldn't figure out why. Pushing it from my mind, I followed them inside.
We helped the women in the kitchen prepare the table and gather the food for the evening meal. Soon, the men trickled into the house by various entryways, all gravitating towards the table.
I was in the kitchen with Nancy washing the counters when Wally walked in. He looked tired and disgruntled as he took off his jacket, placing it on a rack before setting his journal on a counter. He looked up to see me staring at him.
"Hello, Wally," Nancy greeted him jovially. "How was work today?"
"A lot," he said, letting out a breath he had been holding in. He glanced at me. "Howdy."
"Hello, Walter," I said, looking away to set the rag I had been using in the sink.
"How have you and Constance been settling in?" Wally asked, coming over to me to wash his hands in the sink.
"Very well," I stated, moving away from the sink to grab a towel to dry my hands. He soon followed, needing the towel as well, which I handed to him.
"Thank you," he said, giving me a tired smile before putting the towel on a drawer handle.
"You're welcome," I said, turning to Nancy who left the room with some serving spoons. I looked at Wally, who also left the room, leaving me in solace. I took a deep breath before mustering energy to be in a room of people I didn't know.
-=+=-
The dinner table was eerily quiet for a family of boys. Mrs. Rickman, or Miss Rebecka as she asked us to call her, was the one instigating most conversation, though her husband Henry made a few interjections. Henry Rickman was a darker-haired man, his hair very similar to Nathan's since I saw glints of red in it. Mr. Rickman was also very dry-humored and rough-cut, though a good man it seemed at the core.
"How's that ranching endeavor of yours going, Gill?" Henry Rickman asked, scooping stew into his mouth as he awaited an answer.
"It's still going well, Mr. Rickman," Uncle Gill said with a laugh.
"I heard back West the ranching trade is dying out," Mr. Rickman stated, setting his spoon down. "Will that eventually affect you o'er here?"
"Hopefully not," Uncle Gillan said, eating some stew before setting his spoon down as well. "How's your farm been?"
"It's been better, for sure," Mr. Rickman said with a sigh, before leaning back in his chair to rest his hands on his chest. "I've not been feeling my best since I'm not as young as I used to be, but we'll catch up."
"Do you need any help harvesting once the time comes?" Uncle Gillan asked, leaning forward. "With Kenneth going off to seminary you might need another hand."
"Nathan, Wally, and I got it handled," Mr. Rickman said, though when I looked over at the two boys, it didn't seem that it was the case. Nathan, who sat across from me, crossed his arms, looking down. Wally, who sat beside him, squirmed in his seat. "We just need to get through another year or so and Nathan will take good care of it."
"Will I, though?" Nathan asked, a precarious glint shining in his eyes.
"It's going to you whether you like it or not, boy," Mr. Rickman said, sitting up straighter to look at his son. "With your three elder brothers going off, you're the one who has got to take it."
"I never asked for this," Nathan grumbled, before turning to his mother. "May I be excused? Gotta make sure my horses are doing fine."
"Fine," Mr. Rickman said before Miss Rebecka could speak. Mrs. Rickman looked at her son as he stood up with a sad look in her eyes. I sat there, hands folded in my lap, as I was unsure of what to do.
"So, how has your crop been so far?" Uncle Gill asked, diverting attention from the tension at the table.
"Good," Mr. Rickman stated proudly. "Gonna be the biggest yield of corn in years."
"Is that all you're growing this year?" Uncle Gillan inquired, a strange lilt in his voice.
"Yep. Been doing it for years."
"Papa, I was thinking—" Wally started before Mr. Rickman sighed. I noticed Wally tensed up before he clasped his hands together on the table. "I was thinking that maybe next year we could do another crop—like wheat or soy."
"Why would we do that?" Mr. Rickman asked with a guffaw.
"I read somewhere it could preserve soil quality and add nutr—"
"The soil's been fine all this time, so we don't need to worry about it," Mr. Rickman said with finality etched in his tone. "Leave the details to me until Nathan takes this place over."
The conversation moved on, but as I looked over at Wally, he seemed to sag underneath a burden as he refused to look up or participate in the conversation. Around ten minutes later, he excused himself and was gone.
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