THE PATH TO A PROMISE CHAPTERS 6 & 7

CHAPTER SIX

Henry shared with Olive and Lizzie what he knew about his brother’s death. “You know Walter’s been sick for months with terrible congestion and that hacking cough. The way Minnie described it, my poor brother suffered something terrible. When his temperature soared, that scared them, and Minnie sent for the doctor. By the time her folks and my folks got there, he’d started the death rattle. It scared Mama so bad she fell to her knees by his bedside, crying out to God to save her boy. Doc Baker thinks Walter’s death is caused by running back and forth to the courthouse for all the hearings and Dan's trial."

"Your poor mom and dad have lost another son! It’s as if Joe Tanner killed Walter!" Olive couldn't believe what was taking place. Death was hard to bear. Grief sometimes lasted for years, haunting those who bore its weight from losing loved ones.

Henry rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to numb the pain and sorrow. "I guess by the time Doc arrived, Walter couldn't catch his breath. Minnie worked as fast as she could to keep him cool, but it wasn’t enough. Walter was so weak he couldn’t fight. Doc Baker said they first thought he had influenza, but it was pneumonia. Walter was too weak to cough because fluid had collected in his lungs. He died in his bed.”

Olive and Lizzie cried as Henry talked. “Mother and Father may never recover." He sighed and moved his hands over his mouth and face. "Minnie’s brothers have been staying with her the last few days, helping with the five kids while Minnie tended to Walter. George and Tom’s been doing the work on the farm because Walter sure couldn’t do anything.” Henry drew a breath and stared at the wall momentarily. Hanging his head, his black hat shadowed his face. With shoulders trembling, he grieved. It was another death for the family to endure.

Olive wiped tears away, saying nothing, for there was nothing to say. Instead, she moved to Henry, her arms gathering him in a firm embrace.

After a moment, Henry removed his hat and combed his fingers through his dark hair. Plopping the hat back on his head, he continued, “They’re planning the funeral for the day after Christmas. You know he was a member of the Woodmen of the World. Dad's uncle is the president, and he’s planning for a speaker at the funeral. Walter will be commended for all the good he did as a Woodsman.”

“Yes, and they’ll erect a nice gravestone, too,” Lizzie added. “Some of Dan’s friends were in the program, and the gravestone didn’t cost the family a penny!”

“Can we help do anything?” Olive asked. “Maybe help Minnie with the kids or something?”

“Nah, she’s gone home to her parents until after the funeral. She said she can’t stand to be in the house right now.” Pushing his hat off his forehead, he stood, smiling weakly at Olive. “Guess I outta get out to the barn and see about the cows and horses.”

"I took care of it," Lizzie told him.

“It looks like snow is moving in,” Olive said. “Snow for Christmas.”

Henry frowned. “Except there won’t be a Christmas this year.” He left the house.

 

***

Christmas Day, 1908

 

Lizzie drove Clara Mae and Olive to their parents' home on Christmas Eve. In the early morning light, Olive padded to the window and watched the swirling snow. A winter wonderland unfolded outdoors. The blowing snow blanketed the hills and hollows and piled up on the narrow roads, making travel difficult. Drifts lined the fences and draped everything in the path of the wind. The snow fell like powdered sugar from mother’s sugar shaker. Although the snow was beautiful, the air was cold, and the wind made it more so. A gust hit the window, rattling the chinked pane.

A chill crept across the room and made Olive’s bare toes tingle. She hurried back to the warm bed, snuggling beneath the quilts. Instead of happy Christmas thoughts dancing in her head, the tragedy of Walter's death plagued her. Olive shivered as she thought of David and Christina Winters. They were distraught with grief and disbelief that another of their sons was gone. Tears welled in her eyes. Daniel’s death was tragic enough, yet now, another of their sons would be buried tomorrow.

Her eyes widened as a new thought entered her mind. This was Christmas day, and she would give Henry his gift!

Olive found her family around the Christmas tree, surrounded by Clara Mae’s opened gifts. The little girl was licking a candy cane and fingering a rag doll. The doll mirrored Clara Mae's blonde braids.

“Merry Christmas!” Nancy called out merrily to her daughter. 

“I believe Santa Claus left your presents back at his house this year,” Bud teased. “There’s nothing under there with your name on it.”

“No, it’s up there!” Pearl pointed near the top of the glittering tree.

Olive reached through the thick branches and grasped the box wrapped in cloth and tied with string. Bringing it to the floor, everyone watched as she unwrapped it and removed the black box camera. “How… how did you know I wanted this?" she asked, hugging it to her chest. She turned it over and over, looking at the viewfinder and the buttons.

"Mr. Lamberson suggested it. He said you eyed it every time you went into the store," Bud answered.

Olive gave her gifts to everyone. As each family member unwrapped them, they talked in unison, happily chattering about the joys of Christmas. Bud was delighted with his new pocket watch and immediately began to look it over and compare it with his older one.

"Ben, have you talked to Henry?" Olive asked, her heart full of hope that he had.

"I saw him yesterday at the farm," Ben answered. He finished his breakfast and set the plate aside.

"Did he say what time he would be here today?" Olive quizzed her brother.

"Nah, he was in a hurry; he wanted to get to Rocky Corners."

Olive waited all day, expectancy growing in her heart. But it died when the late evening hour threw dark shadows along the fencerows where the snow had stacked a foot deep. The evening skies were a storybook blue, and a light wind put a sting on the night air. Occasionally, glittering snow whooshed from its resting spot and filtered down to the ground. It was a picture-perfect snow scene.

The family retired for the night one by one, yet Olive stayed put by the fireplace, pretending to read the Bible. Her legs were tucked under her dress, and she refrained from putting on her dressing gown. Henry could arrive at any time. The soft glow from the wood burning in the stone hearth warmed her, and she refused to close her eyes in fear she would miss him when he arrived.

“I think it’s time to go to bed, honey. We have a hard day tomorrow,” Bud’s soft voice drew her attention from the book lying in her lap.

Olive saw her father’s face and knew Henry would not arrive that night.

“He’s not coming. It’s almost midnight.”

Her stomach twisted. She gulped back the outcry that came to her lips. Looking down at the Bible, she closed it and stood up. Her legs were mushy from sitting in the same spot for so long.

“Goodnight, Pa.” She gave her father a quick hug. Henry didn't come to see her. The lone gift lay underneath the tree. All the other gifts were opened. Everyone was happy as Christmas filled their day with love, except her. Biting her lip, Olive watched the flames from the fireplace burning slowly. She had to give Henry the benefit of the doubt. He was grieving. But he could grieve here, with people who knew him.

Her heart wept for his loss. She could help comfort him if only he would let her. She tried to tamp down her disappointment. But it was hard to do.

 

***

The day of Walter's funeral was cold and blustery. A stiff wind blew from the north, sending the powdery snow into a whirlwind. Bright sunshine bore down on the snowy ground, making it seem like a diamond field rather than a churchyard or a cemetery. Mourners surrounded the little white Union Church. Many wagons, carriages, and horses were parked and tethered about the churchyard. Children ran around playing tag while groups of men huddled together. When the Johnson wagon arrived at the church, Bud pulled the team of horses toward the back to shelter them from the icy wind. He set the brake and helped his wife from the wagon.

Olive was greeted by people singing and the tinkle of a piano inside the church. She followed her family inside to wait for the services. She saw the Winters family sitting in a large group to the right in the church pews, but Henry was absent.

Walter’s widow, Minnie, and the five children sat in the front row. Dressed in black from head to toe, she held baby Ray, just two months old. The other children were quiet as they watched people filing in and giving condolences to their mother. Like Lizzie, Minnie was left alone to care for her children and a big farm. And it was Christmas, of all times! It was a dark and unhappy time for all of them. Death had its way of stealing joy at any moment.

Preacher Akehurst spoke first, followed by several men from the church. The service ended with the Woodsmen of the World representative speaking on Walter’s courage and describing the gravestone they intended to erect to memorialize his life as a Woodsman. The tombstone would be carved in St. Louis and arrive next summer.

As the mourners filed outdoors and gathered around the open grave, Olive saw Henry standing to the side of the group, hands in his pockets, hat drawn low over his ears. When the service ended, people sympathized with Walter’s widow and the Winters family. The Johnsons stepped in line to say their respects, and Henry looked at her. “Hello.”

"Hello." The greeting came out in a glum way.

"Did you have a nice Christmas day?"

“No, I sure didn't."

"Why's that?" Henry eyed her, pushing his hat back a tad.

"I waited for you until Pa made me go to bed." Her face gave her feelings away. No smile. No cheery attitude.

“Ah,” he choked out hot words, “You’re mad at me.” Ducking his head, he made circles on the snowy ground with the toe of his boot. "I didn't want to see you." His breath puffed out in little wispy gasps. Drawing a deep breath before he spoke, his shoulders drooped. “Let’s talk about this another time.”

Olive gasped, and at that moment, Lizzie pulled her toward the wagon. "Pa says it's time to leave, Sister." Olive let her sister lead her away. She looked back to see Henry watching her. His face was void and dark. Questions rolled around in her head.

She climbed aboard the wagon, her face burning hotter than the summer sun in July. Her spirits sank when Henry admitted he didn't want to see her. Immediately, she felt guilt wash over her. What did she expect? His brother had died, and she knew how sad he must be. But spending time with people often helped raise a person's spirits in times of deep sadness, didn’t it?. She didn't understand why he stayed away.

Olive’s heart sank as she wondered how she had upset Henry. Her stomach tightened into painful knots, and the day, already heavy with the weight of unspoken doubts, grew even darker. As the wagon jolted over the uneven hills, Olive stared at the rolling landscape, her thoughts a tangled mess. What was she doing? The prospect of marriage loomed before her like a dark cloud, full of uncertainty. Why did people expect women to marry and settle down? She knew women also chose careers over marriage and found fulfillment in work rather than the routine of home and family. But what did she know? She was just a girl, and the future stretched before her like an uncharted road, full of possibilities she couldn't yet grasp.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Two weeks passed, and January's weather had warmed; the snow had melted away, leaving deep, slick, muddy ridges from the barn door to the house's front door. Henry attended the farm chores each day and left, not stopping to see Olive or talk to Lizzie. Finally, Lizzie went to the barn one morning when Henry pulled into the barnyard.

"Henry," Lizzie called. "I baked cookies yesterday. When you're done, stop inside and eat with us."

Henry stopped what he was doing and looked at Lizzie before replying, "Let me guess, Olive wants to see me?"

Lizzie hesitated, frowning, then asked, "What is wrong between you two? I thought you might get married one day!"

"I don't want to discuss it, Lizzie." Henry threw a couple of hay bales to the horses and grabbed the milk bucket.

"Forgive me for pushing you. But I believe my sister needs an explanation of what's going on. She needs to know why you don't want to see her anymore!" Lizzie turned and went to the farmhouse.

Henry thought of the situation as he milked Old Betty. He needed his inheritance! Was he going to let this little problem upset his plans to marry Olive and get his inheritance? Just because Olive was selfish and angry that he didn't show up on Christmas there was no reason to treat him this way. He lost his dear brother! He had a right to want to be alone and not see anyone! Was he seeing the true Olive Johnson? Could he live with that kind of behavior?

Emotions bit into him. It was time to claim his inheritance and leave his parents. Why did Father insist that he get married? He grunted in defeat. It would do no good to question Father. As the milk bucket grew full, he knew he had to finish what he set out to do, even though he hated it.

Henry went to the house and told Olive to get ready; they were going for a drive. He borrowed Lizzie's buggy, and they drove down the road, heading for his parents' farm. He apologized to Olive and made excuses for his behavior due to his brother's death. She gave Henry the quilted lap throw, and he was delighted. However, his hands were empty.

“I was preparing to ride to town and pick out your gift,” he explained. “But when Walter died, well…” His face portrayed sincerity. “I didn’t make it to town. I'm afraid I don’t have a gift for you.”

Olive remained calm and listened to his explanation. Her habit of becoming angry and reacting embarrassed her many times. While thinking about everything the past few days, she knew it was time to grow up. And one of the first things she wanted to change about herself was harnessing her temper. However, some little niggling doubts would not go away. Ben told her Henry had gone to Rocky Corners. Why didn't he buy her a gift when he was there? She decided to keep that fact to herself for now. Putting a smile on her lips, she lay her hand atop his. “I understand. You lost a dear brother.”

His eyes twinkled like nighttime stars. “You know I asked you to marry me that day behind the church when your pa caught us…" He glanced at her, gulping several times. "Are you going to answer?"

"Yes, I'll marry you." When the words left her lips, she couldn't say anything else. On the one hand, it made her happy, but on the other, she didn't like it.

He smiled and squelched his elation. He was going to make his father happy, and he would get his land!

Pulling close to the house but not too close to disturb his mother’s flower beds, Henry parked the buggy and helped Olive to the ground. The brown coon hound lying on the front porch barked, announcing their arrival. When they swept through the front door, Christina came forward, wiped her hands on her apron, and greeted Olive with a kiss to both cheeks and a huge hug, enveloping the girl in her ample bosom. To her son, she said, “You finally brought her to visit!”

“Sorry, Mama. We’ve been busy.”

David sat in a wing chair reading a book. He coughed and hid a grin with his hand, rising to greet Olive. His blue eyes twinkled merrily, just like Henry’s sometimes did. Those blue eyes must run in the family.

“Hello, Mr. Winters.” Olive extended her hand.

“Good to see you, Olive. How’s your folks? Is Bud keeping busy in that walnut forest he has?”

She nodded. “He stays busy, even when he doesn’t want to.”

"Come to the table for some refreshments,” Christina called from their large kitchen. "I used apples from the orchard and baked an apple cake with cinnamon icing." The kitchen smelled of apples, sugar, and cinnamon, and the warm air from the oven made it cozy. “I’ve wanted guests so I could bake this cake again. When Henry told us he was bringing you to see us, I decided to bake it. It’s from my mother’s recipe box. She gave it to me when I married David.” She pushed her round glasses further upon her nose.

Olive remembered her mother often speaking of Christina Winters with a mixture of awe and admiration. Christina, an Eastern-bred woman from Indiana, symbolized elegance and refinement in the rugged hills. With roots in the distinguished Hunt family, whose wealth stretched back generations, she carried herself with a grace that marked her as different from the local women. Her father, a prominent business magnate in central Indiana, had instilled in her a deep sense of duty to both family and community.

Christina's impeccable fashion choices set her apart as much as her lineage did. Whether attending church, hosting tea, or simply strolling through town, she was always dressed in the latest styles from the East. Her hair, the color of rich chestnut, was always swept and adorned with a delicate hat or jeweled pins that sparkled in the light. She epitomized the sophisticated woman society held up as the ideal—poised, polished, and perfectly attired. In the eyes of many, including Olive’s mother, Christina represented what a woman should aspire to be: refined, dutiful, and, above all, a shining example of how wealth and good breeding should manifest in a lady.

"I love your apple cakes! This kitchen smells like a sugar factory!” David responded, chuckling. His blonde hair was clipped short, in the front a cowlick made a piece of his hair swoosh to the side. His blue eyes twinkled.

Christina’s right brow rose with happiness like it did every time she talked with her husband.

Henry joined the conversation. “I, too, love the warm and gooey spicy stuff!”

Olive took a bite of the warm confection. The golden cake melted in her mouth, the sweetness spreading through her belly. Cinnamon and apples were one of her favorite foods. “It’s delicious, Mrs. Winters.”

Christina arched a brow higher and smiled affectionately. Her lips drew up like a little bow. “Thank you, Honey.” She took a bite of cake.

The apple cake talk had lightened the mood and deterred them from speaking about Walter’s death and funeral. For the next few minutes, Henry told his parents of their intentions to wed. They took the news with extreme joy.

“Oh my!” Christina gasped, her hand flying to her chest as she fluttered her eyes in dramatic delight. "My baby is at last getting married!" Her voice, a mixture of surprise and joy, echoed through the room as she beamed at Henry.

David let out a hearty laugh and gave his son a knowing look. "Well, it's about time, Henry! I'm happy for you both! And now, you'll get your inheritance! You can take the ten acres above the spring, over by the bluff. It's the best land that's left. You can build a fine home there, as we always planned."

Henry's heart sank as his face flushed a deep red. He avoided Olive’s gaze. The warmth of the moment suddenly turned cold. He had kept the inheritance a secret, not wanting her to know his true intentions. The land was his, a prize he had been waiting for, and he had no intention of sharing that knowledge. But his father had let the truth slip carelessly, and the room seemed to close around him. His smile felt tight, forced, and as hollow as his promises.

"That sounds like a fine idea, Father," Henry replied with a strained voice that barely masked the turmoil swirling inside him. His mind raced, the dread settling in his gut like a stone. He wanted to control the situation and keep his motives hidden, but now the cat was out of the bag. His father ruined everything. He glanced at Olive, but she was conversing with his mother.

David, oblivious to his son's discomfort, nodded with satisfaction. "Good. I'll make it official next week at the Pine Hills courthouse.”

Henry's dread deepened as his father's words hung in the air. He started this plan to secure his land, but now, as the reality of marriage and responsibility loomed before him, the secret that had once seemed like his ticket to freedom now felt like a trap.

“Have you set a wedding date?” Christina again raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, we’ve not got that far, Mama,” Henry answered.

“Yes, we need to talk,” Olive said, looking at Henry.

 

***

On the way home, Henry made small talk until Olive asked him what he dreaded having to explain. While discussing the weather, he thought about how to phrase the explanation. He must be cautious and not lose the chance to marry this girl. He'd have to start all over again to find another. No, that wouldn't do! He didn't want to wait much longer! Once he had his land, he'd be a happy man.

"Henry, what did your father mean about getting your inheritance now that you'll get married?"

Henry jumped at her question, bringing him out of deep thoughts. The reins slipped from his hands, and he almost dropped them. "Oh, that! Father gave each of us kids a portion of the land he claimed when they came to Missouri. I'm the last one to get any. And it's good land, over by the bluffs. We'll go look at it sometime soon."

Olive accepted his answer but didn't ask about going to Rocky Corners and not getting her a Christmas gift. She tamped down the disappointment and held her head high. After all, she was growing up and needed to act mature, mimicking Henry's mother's refinement.

Warmer days became the norm in the New Year, and spring arrived in the Ozarks. Missouri's winter had been cold and miserable. After the Christmas snow, there had been very little to measure, but the icy winds and below-normal temperatures made up for it. As the weeks passed, Henry began working on a cabin on his newly acquired property.

Olive took pictures with her new camera. By keeping busy, Olive’s distress disappeared as she learned how to deal with life. Their romance blossomed like the blooms on the fruit trees.

May Day was always a special time in Rocky Corners. The community planned a May Day picnic for that afternoon after church services. The Redbud and Dogwood trees displayed colorful blossoms, and the lavender lilacs bloomed with a sweet fragrance floating in the breeze.

The schoolteacher, Miss Ruby Abrams, planned for her students to sing various tunes, with a climax of the children performing the winding of the maypole. The students practiced for months to perfect the Maypole winding. It took that long because some of the boys invariably went the wrong way, tying up the ribbons on the maypole.

May Day arrived, and the picnic was a success. The weather cooperated and brought a day filled with warm temperatures and sunshine. Over one hundred people attended the event. Miss Abrams was commended for presenting a lovely children’s performance. Every child sang like the songbirds of the hills and successfully wound the maypole.

People scattered about the grounds, sitting at tables or on quilts on the ground. Children ran and laughed; some played hide-and-seek games like Blind Man’s Bluff or jump rope. The men gathered in groups, chatting about the long winter, or challenging each other at the checker tables. A long line of men waited to compete in throwing horseshoes.

David Winters and his cornet band occupied a small platform, and their music floated over the crowd. At different times, gospel singers delivered heartfelt songs. Politicians and speakers addressed the crowd with local issues. Old timers sat in chairs, keeping time with the music, and listening to the speeches, while the entire community was alive with merriment and leisure activities.

Henry Winters met up with his friends, the Madison boys. Jasper, Edward, and William Madison now lived near Joplin on Shoal Creek. Everyone was happy to see the Madison family. After her husband’s death, Mary Jane Madison moved the family to Joplin, where the boys worked in the zinc and lead mines,

The women sat near the lilac bushes to discuss summertime activities. While they pieced quilts, the sweet scent from the bushes lulled their senses. Everyone listened intently to Mary Jane as she relayed the news and events about Joplin, forty-five miles north of Rocky Corners.

Christina was stitching on a square patch quilt. She said, “David’s Uncle Zimri lives in Joplin and owns a livery there. He tells David about the saloons and shenanigans in that town. I’m glad I live here in the hollers, away from all that sin!”

Mary Jane nodded, her oblong face wearing the usual expression of innocent wonder. “But we know there’s trouble in every town. One can get in a pickle just about anywhere."

Christina agreed with her friend. Blue eyes twinkled within a face that was round like a harvest moon. Her round eyeglasses had slid down her slight nose, and she pushed them up. Her right eyebrow arched slightly as if standing at attention. “I miss you, my friend, and we are so glad that the boys brought you down to the picnic today.”

“How’s Lizzie?” Mary Jane asked, looking at Nancy.

“She’s out of mourning, finally,” Nancy responded. “She had a dreadful time for a long while.”

“Our news is that finally, Henry's getting married to Olive Johnson!” Christina sat back in the chair and fanned her face with the decorated paperboard church fan.

A clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. Everyone came to attention and looked toward the sky. Thunderheads were forming to the west, a sign of an approaching thunderstorm. The wind picked up then, and lightning streaked the western sky.

Several of Christina’s daughters-in-law packed up their sewing equipment and left the circle to gather their children in preparation to go home.

David’s band stopped playing, and they took their instruments to their vehicles. David approached the women, wearing a severe look on his face. “Mother, we’d best be getting on home right away!"

Christina patted her friend’s arm. “Mary Jane, take care of yourself, and I wish you God Speed. If we can ever help you in any way, ask.” Tears gathered in her merry eyes, and she removed her spectacles to dab at them with her white embroidered hanky.

“Come visit me.” Mary Jane looked around at the other women in the circle and invited them to her home in Joplin.

At that moment, Lizzie approached with William Madison walking beside her and Henry and Olive behind.

“Mother!” Lizzie called. “Henry and William are taking Olive and me home.” With a beam on her face, Lizzie wiggled her fingers at the group of women. “Ta Ta.” Taking William’s arm, she almost skipped to the waiting wagon. 

William Madison half-turned, and his boyishly handsome face reddened with a blush. “I’ll be home later, Mama.”

“Mind the storms, William. Those clouds look like the storm could be bad.” Mary Jane waved goodbye.

As they made their way home, William Madison chattered about the zinc mines in Joplin. He described how the mining town grew every day. Joplin was classified as a city with fine hotels, banks, and businesses galore.

Olive felt dread as she listened to William make Joplin sound like a five-star city. But she knew it was not. When Henry asked about the wages in the town, the dread grew. She had a sneaky feeling that Henry would want to go—she just knew it.

 

 

THE PATH TO A PROMISE CHAPTER 5

 

CHAPTER FIVE

Henry led Olive past the outhouse, beyond a grove of bare trees thick with dense sumac, brambles, and cedars. Their footsteps crackled and snapped through the leaf-strewn path as they circled and stopped at the woodshed, hidden from view.

“The wind isn’t quite so strong here,” he said, holding onto her hand. For days, he rehearsed what he wanted to tell her. Now standing before her, his senses fell away, leaving him like a helpless fool. This was the moment, and he had to make it count.

Olive stood still, breathing deeply as her heart fluttered from the escapade. Her rosy cheeks were plump and cold, and she held her hands behind her back. Her hair, pulled into two braids, fell over slim shoulders. A woolen cap covered the top of her head, and a jeweled pin held it in place. A long brown coat covered her dress, and cotton stockings plunged into sturdy black boots.

“I’ve missed you. Have you missed me?” The warmth of his smile echoed in his words as his eyebrows raised inquiringly.

They stood just inches apart, leaning against the side of the old shed. The building blocked the sunshine, and there, in the shade, the temperature was a tad cooler. Their breaths came out like little puffs. The wind picked up and shook the trees as if a reminder that their rendezvous was in jeopardy.

Smiling back at Henry, Olive’s shy voice lilted. “Yes…”

Henry chuckled and hugged her to his warm chest. They stood in the embrace for moments, both quiet. He pulled away and held her at arm’s length. “Olive, there’s something I want to say.” He stopped, looking into her perfectly round face with those large doe-brown eyes and shining cheeks.

She searched his handsome face. “What is it?”

He swallowed and opened his mouth, but no words came out. Ducking his head, he chuckled and slapped his knee with his gloved hand. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

Her brown eyes lit with curiosity as her brows raised high. “Henry, you better hurry 'cause if Mama and Papa miss me, they’ll have a hissy fit!”

He gathered a breath and pushed the words out at her. “I know how you feel about me, and I feel the same about you!” Once he said the words, a thrill shot clean through him, and he felt his face heat like it might burst into flames at that moment. Relief made his knees want to buckle, but he stood straight. “Pearl told me what happened with your folks. Lizzie didn’t mean to get us in trouble. But it's okay; I’d get in trouble for you anytime.” His words rushed out like a locomotive at full speed.

As quick as lightning strikes a tree, he bent his head, and their lips touched in a light kiss. Pulling her to him, he kissed her again and then squeezed her hard. He broke away, and his words tumbled out. “I want to marry you.”

All she could say when she opened her mouth was, “Oh.” Sucking in breath, she plunged her hands into her coat pockets

Henry cackled with laughter. “Is that all you have to say, Olive Johnson?” Dark eyes danced merrily with humor at the look on her innocent face. “You beat all I’ve ever seen!” He planted a sweet, warm kiss firmly on her forehead. "Will you marry me?"

"I don't know…" Olive answered. "I've been thinking about you a lot."

Leaning against the woodshed, Henry pushed his hat off his forehead and scratched his ear. “Then we need to start courtin'!”

But before she answered, Bud Johnson stepped into view. With a strained face and a strong voice, he questioned, “Daughter, what’s going on here?”

“Pa!” Olive’s voice rang with dread. Her slight body shook as she tried to steady herself and meet her father’s fiery eyes. Clutching the building, she swayed, and her belly rolled. She was going to retch right here in front of Henry! How much had her father heard? More than that, what had he seen? She had just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. Pa might even get the hickory switch after her backside when they got home. Hot tears sprang to her eyes; she gulped back a string of explanations. She looked at Henry, who looked like he was confronting a grizzly bear.

Henry pushed out the words, “Mr. Johnson, we want to start courtin' with your blessing."

Bud’s cold gray eyes bore into the younger man. “I forbid it.” The statement was a snarl. His hands clenched into shaky fists.

Henry stood erect, looking at Bud. “We both like each other!"

Bud’s right eyebrow lifted in a face that looked like Carthage marble. “That right, Child?” He glanced at Olive.

Olive inched closer to her father. Her knees wobbled when she raised her chin. She willed herself not to cry and pushed the fear aside. This was her one moment when she could either make a mess of everything or try to reach her pa and make him see reason. No longer would she be a ninny.

“Henry’s telling you the truth.”

She watched Bud's left eye twitch and his shoulders sag. Hope fluttered in her chest. Relief swelled in her heart. What was he going to say?

Olive licked her cold lips and took hold of his arm. “I’m apologizing, Papa. I should have asked if I could talk with Henry instead of sneaking off.” Hot tears gathered in her eyes again, and she tried to blink them back. But it didn’t stop them. Instead, they rolled down her reddened cheeks, betraying her feelings. She stood like a soldier before her father, but her legs felt like Ma’s homemade egg noodles drying on the counter.

Henry extended his hand. “And I’m sincerely sorry. I never want to get Olive in trouble.”

Bud’s brow pushed higher, his face grew sterner, and he ignored the two standing before him. Children’s merry shouts and laughter echoed down the valley. Olive and Henry were antsy. His daughter trembled, probably from fright more than the chilly air. Looking at her and then to Henry, he sighed. “I’ll accept both your apologies.” He took Henry's hand in his and shook.

Henry smiled back, pumping his arm up and down in nervous abandonment. “Thank you, sir!”

“Thank you, Pa!” Happiness skittered across Olive’s cold face and bloomed through her brown eyes.

Bud announced, "Time to go.” Taking Olive by the arm, he took a step, but like a lightning strike, he turned to Henry and invited him to sit with them at church the following Sunday.

Henry's heartbeat like his father’s bass drum. “I’ll try to make it every Sunday, Mr. Johnson. I care about Olive, and she cares for me. I’m asking your permission to come courting next week.” He dared to glance at Olive. She looked like she’d swallowed her mother’s canary. With a heart full of courage, he continued, “May I drive her home today?”

Bud nodded his head, his long mustache bobbing. “That’ll be fine.”

Henry nodded with relief. “Thank you, sir.” He wanted to whoop, holler, and dance around the woodshed but held it back. Instead, he looked Bud square in the eye.

Bud harrumphed and scratched his hairy chin. “Don’t tarry, you hear?” He let go of his daughter’s arm and said to her, “Your mama and I will talk to you when you get to the house.” He turned and tromped through the brush back to the church.

***

Besides relenting and allowing Henry to court Olive, Bud and Nancy let Olive return to Lizzie’s farm, and Pearl went home. Once again, Olive and Lizzie were back together. Things had returned to the way they were before all the problems started. Clara Mae was happy to see her Aunt Olive and would not leave her alone, begging to be held or played with.

On the night of December 15, Brooming County received its first snowfall of the season. The evening began with gentle rain tapping against the windowpanes, but as the temperature dipped, the raindrops transformed into delicate snowflakes, drifting silently to the ground. By morning, a glistening coat of snow frosted the fences, trees, and fields, creating a world of shimmering white. The snow carried the promise of Christmas as folks hurried to finalize their holiday plans, their hearts warmed by the season's quiet beauty.

Olive stitched Christmas gifts for her family. A new Sunday vest for Ben, a red cape for Pearl, and an embroidered set of handkerchiefs for Lizzie and her mother. Amid her projects, she was quilting a warm lap throw for Henry. On one of the trips to Rocky Corners to Milligan’s Millinery, she found a child’s dress pattern in an old Godey’s Book. Taking Clara Mae's measurements, she drew a pattern on paper, fashioning it from memory. Using the material of a pink gingham day dress, she stitched a dress. Clara Mae would look like a pink angel.

Lizzie returned from gathering the eggs, stomping her work boots on the welcome mat by the door. She told Olive, “There’s more than a skiff of snow in places out there. I had to pull hard to get the chicken house door open.”

Hanging her hat and coat on the peg by the door, she went to the warm living room. She heard a noise in the kitchen and looked to see Clara Mae sitting in her highchair at the table, finishing scrambled eggs and a glass of milk.

Olive held up the pink cloud of a dress. “It’s almost done. What do you think?”

Lizzie clapped her hands. “Oh, it’s lovely! And she’ll look pretty, Sister! I wish I were out of this dreadful black widow’s suit! It’s boring. I want to wear colors again!” She placed Clara Mae on the floor. “Two years is a long time to wear something that makes you look like an old dirty sock!”

“You’ll be out of mourning soon, Lizzie." Olive’s curiosity got the best of her. “Do you still miss Dan?” She watched her sister's face change, and the brightness disappeared.

Lizzie nodded. “I miss him every day, especially at night when he doesn’t walk through that door. The pain of his death washes over me just as much as it did the first time Pa came to tell me he’d been shot.”

“I’m sorry,” Olive whispered. She should not have said anything about it.

“No, don’t be.” Lizzie sniffed, then drank from her water glass. “I’m getting better at dealing with it. I’m just learning how to face reality and move ahead. I have to. I have her to think about.” She lifted her daughter out of the chair and placed her on the red braided rug so she could play with a set of wooden alphabet blocks.

“Do you think you’ll ever marry again?”

Her sister’s eyes grew round at the question. “I’ve not thought about it.”

Olive smiled at her sister. “Let’s think about the Christmas tree festival in Rocky Corners.”

“Yes, we can take Clara Mae to see Santa Claus.” Lizzie’s face brightened as she finished her breakfast.

As the days grew shorter and the skies darkened earlier, the approach of Christmas Day filled the town with a mixture of anticipation and warmth. Everyone in Rocky Corners busied themselves with preparations for the holiday celebration. At the downtown crossroads near the old artesian well, the townsfolk erected a towering cedar tree, its fresh, piney scent mingling with the crisp winter air. The tree stood tall and proud, adorned with shimmering tinsel, popcorn strings, glittering tin stars, delicate wooden crèches, and small red bows.

Generosity overflowed as townspeople donated extra items from their shops—colorful ribbons, jars of preserves, and handmade trinkets. The women filled their kitchen with the savory aroma of roasting turkeys and hams, and the scent sweet treats made with cinnamon, cloves, and sugar wafted from ovens. The air buzzed with excitement, especially among the children, who eagerly awaited Santa Claus' arrival with his sled pulled by magical reindeer.

The community spirit extended into the evenings, as the town's churches hosted nightly gatherings, filling the air with hymns and Christmas carols. The sounds of David Winters' brass band echoed through the streets, their lively tunes adding a cheerful rhythm to the holiday festivities. The music accompanied every gathering, from the church socials to the lively holiday parties, binding the town together in a shared celebration of the season.

By the afternoon of December 23, a cold wind blew in from the west, and the temperatures plummeted with each hour. Looking out the window at the swaying trees, Olive thought it could easily snow again. Gray clouds gathered in a darkening sky—snow clouds. She noticed a flock of Canada geese moving south—another winter sign.

Olive watched as Lizzie hurried toward the house from the barn. A horse and rider moved toward her. Henry rode hard, slapping the reins against the horse’s flanks. He pulled up short and fell to the ground, talking to Lizzie. His words came out in puffs of icy chill. Olive watched Lizzie’s face turn from smiling to frowning. Covering her eyes with her hands, she shook her dark head. Henry took her by the shoulders, and they moved toward the house.

When Olive opened the door, it felt like her heart would fall from her chest. Something was wrong! The two came inside. Lizzie was shivering, crying repeatedly, “No, no, it can’t be!”

Henry was trying to calm her. Looking at Olive, his stormy, tear-filled eyes held hers momentarily before he spoke. “My brother died this morning.”

 

THE PATH TO A PROMISE CHAPTER 4

 

CHAPTER FOUR

A week later Olive sat on the wicker rocker on her parents' front porch, pulling her wool shawl closer and shivering like the bare trees shaken by the wind. When Lizzie told their parents about Olive and Henry and that the tickling of love bloomed in Olive’s heart, it was snapped off like buds from a rosebush. Her folks showed up on the farm, demanding Olive return home.

She watched the road and wished for Henry to come riding his horse over the hill toward the house. She longed to go back to Lizzie’s place. She missed her sister. Olive admired Lizzie with great pride and joy. She would do almost anything to help Lizzie and make her happy. They got along very well, sharing a typical enthusiasm for learning new things. They viewed each new day as an opportunity, not a humdrum, carbon-copy day.

Olive would follow Lizzie anywhere. Lizzie was popular among the families in the area. She was smart and helped the other kids study their lessons. She had a good memory and was always trying to learn something new. Sometimes, she filled in for the teacher at the schoolhouse when the teacher was ill. She had many friends, too. The three Madison girls, Lydia, Sadie, and Minnie were her best friends. They worked together, sat together in church, and were seen together everywhere. Yes, Lizzie led a good life filled with happiness, love, and friends. Olive wanted to be just like her.

Hot tears welled in Olive’s eyes. She thought she was done crying and had no tears left. Swiping at her face with her sleeve, she sniffed. She had no energy or desire to finish her dress for the church dedication, and her happiness had vanished. She was confused. Girls were supposed to grow up, get married, and start a family. Why were her parents in such a tizzy about her doing that very thing?

Bud and Nancy tried to comfort Olive and coax her to go with Bud to the woods and help him with the horses at the logging camp. Ben offered to take her fishing. Nothing worked. Olive walked around with a sullen face and gloomy disposition. Her spirits were crushed, and her mood was mean. Just a few days ago, she questioned her feelings for Henry Winters. Did absence make the heart grow fonder? Because now, she concluded that she did like him.

 

Olive pushed her foot against the porch floor to set the rocker in motion. The steady rhythm of the rocking chair helped her think. The cold breeze ruffled her hair, as it blew across her face. She hated for anyone to be mad at her. And oh my, her parents were angry. She must reconcile with them if she wanted to return to Lizzie's farm. Her mother's birthday was on Halloween in two days. If she planned a surprise party, maybe that would be the beginning which might turn them around. She would bake a tasty cake. Lizzie had pumpkins stored in her barn. Bobbing for apples was always fun. She decided to talk to Pa and coax him into letting her plan a party.

Pushing out of the rocker, Olive made her way to the corral. Crossing through the fence, she trotted down the path to her father’s logging operation. Stopping in the walnut grove, she watched as the men pulled a tree down and worked to prepare it for cutting. A team of horses pulled the chained tree forward for sawing, and the men got to work with their crosscut saws.

Bud stopped to rest and drink from his jug. He eyed his daughter coming down the path, and a smile broke across his long face. When he and Nancy brought Olive home, it upset him deeply. He knew his two older daughters were close. Olive followed Lizzie around like a lost kitten. He hated being at odds with his children.

“You decide to visit your pa?” Holding out his arms to catch her in an embrace. He held her close and squeezed tightly.

“Hi, Pa!” Olive smelled whiskey. He was drinking again today. She gave him a little tug before letting him go and moved a few steps away. “I want to plan a birthday party for Mother. Will you help me?”

“A party? That’s a nice thing to do, but it's too short a notice to invite people." He shook his graying head.

“It'll be a simple surprise for Mother and just us.” She smiled her best smile and puckered her lips.

“What do you need me to do, Child?” He waited for her answer, looking at the ground.

“I need your approval.” She batted her eyes at him and told him her plan. “Just help keep it a surprise. We will have it in the barn, use pumpkins from Lizzie’s farm, and use apples for bobbing!”

Bud nodded. “Tell you what, I’ll talk to you tonight after I get done. I need to get over and help Charlie and Vernie.” He stood, shaking off the dirt from his baggy overalls.

Olive threw her arms around his skinny frame. Hugging him tightly and drawing away, she waved as her father returned to where the men sawed branches off the giant tree. She did it! Clapping her hands, she made mental notes of what not to forget to do. If it turned out as she hoped, she would return to Lizzie’s farm soon—and back into Henry Winters' life.

On the night of the party, Olive made amends with her parents. They had a great time carving pumpkins and bobbing for apples in one of Bud’s whisky barrels. Olive baked a luscious apple cake for her mother, and Lizzie made a special boiled sugar icing that lit everyone’s eyes with delight and tempted their taste buds.

Lizzie embroidered tea towels for her mother, and Olive promised to wash and dry the dishes for a week as a gift. Pa gave his wife a beautiful walnut table to set beside her chair. Ma declared it would be a nice place to keep her Bible and Sunday school literature. Ben carved a wooden letter opener for her. Pearl stitched a handkerchief she had cut from an old dress. Nancy was indeed surprised and delighted.

 

***

The next day, at the church dedication, people packed into the building. The families were crowded, but it did not stop them from rejoicing in the Lord and thanking Him for giving them the means to form such a glory-filled flock. Olive sat with her family on the right side of the church, two rows from the front, in their usual spot.

David and Christina Winters came through the double doors, with Henry tagging behind. They sat farther back in the pews near the potbelly stove. David’s band instruments were stored in the far corner. David had a family band that played on all occasions. While he played a big bass drum with his brother on a smaller version, the younger men were good with cornets.

Olive’s neck tingled as she sat listening to the preacher talk. She imagined Henry’s stare boring in her back. She scratched her ear as a smile played about her lips.

“Whatcha’ grinin’ for, Ellie?” Ben whispered. When Olive did not answer, he pulled on her braid. “I said…”

Olive swatted at his hand, missed, and whacked her Bible with a loud thump. Glaring at her brother, her message was clear.

Ben chuckled low and reached to pull her hair again, but Bud’s long arm snaked from behind and touched his shoulder. Ben met the glare of the devil. He dropped his hand to his lap and gazed at the preacher.

Olive grinned and warned, “You’ll be tarred and feathered if you act out again, Ben Johnson.”

“Nuh-uh,” he whispered. His voice was so low it seemed to come out of his mouth as a growl.

“You can pull Mayme Bond’s braids after the sermon’s over. I seen her folks come in,” Olive teased, waggling her eyebrows.

“Where?” Ben burst out, turning to look about the church. After a moment, he turned back to his sister, his brows drawing low. “You’re just teasin’ me!”

Olive shook her head as a broad grin crept over her lips. “They’re back to the left, down by the stove.”

Ben craned his neck to have a look just as his ear got pinched. “Ow!” He let out a yelp that would put a coyote to shame. Bud leaned toward his son; his face was the fire, and Ben was the wood. It said it all. Ben quieted down and sat on the wooden pew, staring straight ahead. If a gnat buzzed by, he wouldn't lift a hand.

Pastor Dave Akehurst delivered a powerful message with the musings of love. Flipping his Bible to the Book of First Corinthians, he waited while everyone found it in their Bibles. His green eyes swept over his flock. “The first Book of Corinthians is about solving relationship problems.” He waited for the flock’s reactions. “There are many different relationships in our lives. I am going to start with love. Turn to chapter thirteen.”

 

***

When Pastor Akehurst said “love,” Henry whipped his head around from whispering into his brother’s ear and looked at the preacher. Had the preacher been talking to him? He bent his head toward the front. He was all ears.

“Now, when I say ‘love,’ there are many different types. You can love your neighbor, you can love your wife or your husband, you can love your children, and you can love yourself. I hope you love your neighbor. You can even love your old hound dog or your fastest horse.” He stopped for a moment while many laughed. “But most of all, I pray you love our Lord and Master.”

Henry sneaked a peek at Olive sitting in the second row on the left side of the church. She sat with her back against the wood pew, her shoulders square, her dark head bent toward the Bible in her lap. Ben and Pearl sat like turtles sunning on a log, staring straight ahead. Lizzie held a sleeping Clara Mae on her lap.

Grinning to himself, he sank lower in the pew, his long legs protruding in front of him. His just-shined-that-morning boots raked over the floor planks. He felt a nudge in his side. His mother glared at him with green eyes. Christina Winters’ round body was wedged between Henry and her husband. Holding a Bible in her gloved hands, she appeared calm and collected. Rather than embarrass them both by calling attention to his disobedience, a raised eyebrow gave a silent warning.

Henry immediately sat up and gave her an adoring grin, then moved closer to her. The scent of lavender water played with his nose, and her purple taffeta shirtwaist felt smooth against his arm. Although his mother rarely smiled, she was one of the happiest people in Brooming County. But she did not show it. Usually, Christina’s face was somber, with just a hint of humor playing about her mouth. Kind of like that Mona Lisa woman he saw a picture of in a book. A slightly lifted eyebrow meant she was a no-nonsense woman. Henry loved his mother, and she loved him.

Christina smiled back at her son with that familiar serenity and confidence. A fashionable new purple hat perched on her head, matching her skirt and shirtwaist.

“For the next few Sundays, we’ll discuss relationships from the Book of First Corinthians.” Pastor Akehurst continued, giving a stirring sermon to which there were many “Amens!” from the congregation. The choir, mostly older people, sang about counting your blessings.

Henry’s eyes swept through the congregation, noting how many couples appeared happy and loving versus those who seemed cold and miserable. A smile played on his lips as he counted more happy couples than unhappy ones. But what made the others sad? He needed to find out before he got himself in a heap of trouble by marrying Olive. He lost his smile.

A thought struck him. Did Tom tell him everything about marriage? He glanced at his older brother, whose family sat on the left side of the church. Little Roy sat beside his mother, and sister Opal was beside him. Emma’s rounded belly looked like it might explode any minute.

Henry grinned. They looked happy. His brother said that marriage was the best thing that ever happened to him. His smile returned as he remembered his inheritance. Henry's chest puffed with pride. Olive was his ticket to his dream. His next move was to talk to Father so he could start building a house.

The last song played on the piano, the Sunday services closed with an invitation to the well-laden tables of food and drinks waiting outside. People filed out the doors and made their way to the food. Plates rattled, and folks talked to their neighbors as they stood in line. Screams rent the air as children played tag and swung on the new board swings.

Henry kept her eyes peeled for Olive. He spotted her at the corner of the church. Catching her eyes, he smiled, and she returned the smile. He motioned with his head toward the horses and buggies. She nodded and stayed near her mother.

Olive walked across the churchyard through the crowd of people near the tables and the children playing games. He followed her behind the woodshed and down the path to the outhouse. Lights danced in her eyes, and he put a gloved finger over his lips and grinned.

“Henry! Aren’t you afraid we’ll get caught?”

He leaned toward her and whispered, “If I was, we wouldn’t be standing here, would we?” A sneaky smile danced over his mouth as he tipped her chin with his index finger.

Henry grabbed her gloved hand and whispered, “Come on!”

 

THE PATH TO A PROMISE CHAPTER 3

 

CHAPTER THREE

The next day, Henry found his brother repairing harnesses in the barn at his farm. Tom Winters had learned the trade of harness-making by watching his father and uncles. They taught him well. He did all of his own work, rarely hiring out for anything. He was a skilled tradesman and made money on the side, working for others who might need their leather goods repaired, and he was proud of his work.

Tom spotted Henry standing just inside the open barn doors, the morning light casting long shadows across the dusty floor. The aroma of fresh hay and earth filled the air, mingling with the rich, warm cattle smell in the stalls. “Brother, it’s good to see you!” Tom called out, his voice carrying the warmth of his affection. A wide grin stretched across his sun-tanned face, revealing the deep lines etched from years of hard work outdoors. His broad, angular face, marked with weathered wrinkles, was freshly shaven.

Henry strode toward him, the weight of unspoken words heavy on his shoulders. His stomach churned with nerves, each step amplifying the anxious thoughts inside. How could he even begin to broach the subject of love and marriage? The question gnawed at him, tightening his chest. Stopping beside the rough wooden table where Tom worked, Henry swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Tommy,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “I need to get married.”

Tom dropped the harness onto the table with a thud, his eyes locking onto Henry's with a mix of curiosity and concern. Cocking a brow, he shook his head and let out a low whistle before drawing a deep breath. "Our folks taught you better than that, Henry. Who’s the girl?”

“Olive Johnson,” Henry stammered, his voice barely steady as he looked down at the dusty floor. His legs trembled, betraying the storm of nerves inside him, and his belly soured like milk left too long in the summer heat. The sunlight filtered through the barn's cracks, casting narrow beams of light where dust motes danced in the air. Henry inhaled deeply, the familiar smells of leather, hay, and earth filling his lungs while the distant squeals of pigs and piglets echoed from the back of the barn.

"Lizzie’s sister.” Tom's breath hitched. His gaze, sharp as a hot blade, bore into his younger brother. "When’s the baby due?”

Henry’s head snapped up, his stance growing rigid with disbelief. His hands instinctively clenched into fists. “Baby? There ain’t no baby!”

Tom’s face paled, the color draining away as he uncrossed his legs and stood to his full height, his arms falling to his sides. “Olive’s not in the family way?”

“I haven’t even kissed her yet!” Henry's voice sputtered with a mix of frustration and indignation.

Tom’s laughter exploded, filling the barn with its clear, hearty sound. He slapped his leg with his left hand while wiping his forehead with his right. “Praise the Lord, Brother! You know what Pa will do if you get a girl in trouble.”

Henry’s face twisted in irritation. “I outta whip you right here, Tom!”

Tom threw up an arm in mock defense, stepping back with a grin. "Now, hold on. When you tell me you gotta get married, what am I supposed to think?”

Henry froze, the reality of Tom's question sinking in. He exhaled slowly. “Maybe we need to start this conversation over.”

“That’s a good idea. Sit down and tell me.”

Henry eased himself onto the table creaking under his weight. He met Tom's gaze. “Pa told me I need to find a wife so I can get my land.”

“He said he talked to you.”

“I think she's the one I want to marry.”

“You think? You don’t know?” He frowned, lifting a brow.  

Henry's defensive tone notched his ire even higher. “She’s the first girl who's caught my attention, but I don’t know the first thing about women!"

Tom's voice held a singsong lilt. “Baby brother’s gonna get hitched.”

Henry's expression fell flat. “There can’t be no hitching ‘till I start courting.”

“And you came to me for advice?” The older man’s demeanor changed. His broad chest puffed out, and his ears turned a light pink. He stood tall in his baggy overalls and work boots.

“You and Emma’s got a fine spread, a comfortable way of life, and a healthy family. I thought of you when I thought of advice.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so when you first got here?” Tom continued to chuckle, throwing his arm around his younger brother. “Let’s go to the house and get some of Emma’s sweet tea. Maybe she’s got that cake baked by now.” The two men walked side by side to the big clapboard house Tom built after his marriage. The two-story abode was filled with young children, and another was on the way. All brought together by a faith-filled marriage.

Henry walked with Tom. “I can’t be too long, gotta get back to the farm.”

“Don’t worry, little brother. The rules of courtin’ won’t take long to learn. Number one is do what your woman wants, and you won’t have a lick of trouble!”                          Laughter rang out across the expanse of yard, carrying through the stand of trees and bouncing down the dirt road. Tom Winters stood over six feet tall, his circumference broad as an oak tree, and his jolly disposition defined him as a friend of many.

 

***

Later, when Henry arrived at Lizzie’s farm, he was ready to begin his daily duties. He put his horse, Moses, in the corral and walked to the house. It was a cold and clear day in Kings Valley. The fields were finished for the season, and November promised colder days ahead.

He couldn't wait to see Olive. After his brother’s talk about courting, confidence flowed through him. Tom told him a lot about women, love, and how to win a girl's heart. Everything his brother said made sense. Even though he had flirted with some girls at school, he was never serious. So, it hit home when Tom told him what to say and how to say it. Happiness bloomed in his heart. His inheritance was close.

Walking toward the farmhouse, he watched Pearl, the youngest of the Johnson children, go out the back door. She carried a big wicker basket. Working fast, she pinned wet clothing to the sagging clothesline. Dragging the wicker basket as she worked, she hummed a song.

Calling out a greeting so he wouldn't startle her, Henry stepped closer to Pearl.

Pearl screamed and bellowed, “Lord have mercy!” Twirling, she smacked him square in the face with a cold, wet dishtowel. She stood with her chest heaving her fists clenched. When she saw who he was, she cried, “Henry! Why did you do that?”

Grabbing his belly, he doubled over with laughter. Although his face stung, Pearl’s eyes were bigger than a hoot owl’s. She stood before him with an angry scowl, and he burst out with peals ringing like the church bell.

Lizzie stepped onto the front porch holding Clara Mae on her hip. Both were dressed in winter coats and woolen bonnets. Lizzie had a bag in her free hand. “What’s going on out here?” Looking at Henry and her sister, Lizzie’s brows rose slightly higher than they already were.

“This jokester scared the wits out of me!” Pearl accused. “And I hit him with a towel!” Pearl was a sober ten-year-old girl who usually wore a pinched look, her thick dark brows drawn in a bunch. She stuck out her tongue at Henry before returning to the wet laundry.

Henry’s chuckling subsided enough for him to speak. “It’s my fault, I scared her.”

Lizzie smiled. She was glad to see Henry early this morning. She was going to Rocky Corners to buy supplies and stop by the post office, but she didn’t want to leave Pearl alone. “Our mama taught us girls to defend ourselves. I see it worked!” She continued to the buggy.

When Henry apologized, Pearl half-turned and mumbled an acceptance. He grinned. Pearl could be sweet-talked into doing almost anything. “I’ll get busy in the cornfield, cutting down the stalks. Might gather the last of the old pumpkins to feed the hogs. By the way, tell Olive I’m here.”

“I’m going in the house to see Olive.”

“Then you’ll be disappointed!” Pearl’s words could have started a forest fire. She stopped pinning the towel to the clothesline and glared at Henry. “Mama and Daddy took her home with them lickety-split! They were both madder than old wet hens!”

As her words sunk in, he swallowed hard. “What are you talking about? When? Is she sick?” Questions twirled inside him like a tornado, and panic moved to his gut, settling into a giant, painful blob.

“You’ll be lucky if you ever see her again, Henry Winters!” Pearl gave him her best defiant stare as victory spread across her face.

“Now’s not the time to play games,” Henry insisted. "Tell me what you know.”

Pearl’s young face pinched into a deeper frown. She pinned the remaining clothes to the line and reached for the basket. Ignoring him, she started to the house.

“Pearl, please, what happened?”

“Why should I tell you?” She stopped. Turning toward Henry, her lips pushed into a pout.

A smile softened the worry line between his eyes. “I’ll get you some penny candy at Horton’s Store.” His words were sweeter than the sugar confection he promised.

Her face lit up, and she eyed him. “How many pieces?”

“How many do you want?”

Pearl put a finger to her lips, rolling her brown eyes and grinning widely. “Ten.”

Henry swallowed. Ten cents to get the truth out of her! He would pay more than that, but he had better accept the ten before she upped it. “Ten pieces of delicious peppermints. I’ll have them with me tomorrow.”

“Goody!” Pearl clapped her hands. He followed her into the warm house.

"Okay, Pearl, spill the beans."

“Well, Olive told Lizzie her secrets about you. They talked about courting and babies. When Lizzie told Mama and Daddy, they got furious. Daddy stomped his feet. Babies? He’d yelled. He cussed and yelled some more!”

Henry’s face burned. For several minutes, he couldn’t force a word from his mouth, try as he might. Feelings circulated on his face, revolving in his brain. Courting and babies? Horror settled over him because Bud Johnson was angry. The old logger was probably fit to be tied!

Swallowing his fear, Henry looked down at Pearl, who was waiting for him to speak. “Then what happened?” Although he was afraid to hear the rest, he had to know.

“Momma cried and yelled at Daddy. Daddy yelled back. Clara Mae was bawling like a newborn calf. Then he pulled down his jug. Lizzie joined the argument, and they told her to stay clean out of it. Then they sat together at the kitchen table and quieted down. After a few drinks, Daddy told Mama he knew how her mother felt years ago when he wanted to court her. Then Mama smiled, and then they both laughed! She told him to put away his jug, and he did after a couple more mouthfuls. Then, Mama hollered at me to gather some clothes because I was staying with Lizzie ‘cause they were taking Olive."

Henry blew out a breath. His arms felt like lead weights on a fishing pole. “What did Olive do?”

Pearl’s eyes narrowed. “My sister has a temper, but I have never seen her that mad at anyone. Even when Ben broke the bottom tree limb so she couldn’t climb her tree, she was mad, but not like this time! Why, Daddy threatened to hogtie her and throw her in the wagon if she didn’t do as he said!”

Henry ran his hand across his face, the stubble pricking him like Pearl's words. His ears burned a little. He was sorry that there was a blowup over him. He didn’t know Olive had such a temper. He started for the door.

“Don’t forget, you owe me that candy!”

Henry nodded at her as he went outside. He felt his inheritance slipping away. He’d have to find someone to marry if he wanted his rightful share of his father’s property! He did not see this turn of events coming. He swore under his breath. There was much information to think about before Lizzie returned from town.

 

***

Lizzie arrived at the farm, put away the supplies, fed Clara Mae, and then put her down for a nap. She prepared food for supper and practiced how she would relay the news to Henry. But she knew he would be angry no matter how often she rehearsed it. It was her fault that Olive was gone. What if Henry refused to help her on the farm? Could she manage all the chores with winter coming? Maybe Ben could keep up with all that had to be done. Asking Pearl to ring the dinner bell, Lizzie prepared to face Henry and admit what she had done. After the three ate their food, Lizzie and Henry remained at the kitchen table while Pearl retired to her bedroom to read.

In her quiet voice and solemn face, Lizzie started the conversation, but Henry put up his hand. “I know what happened.”

Lizzie blinked her eyes in disbelief, and her mouth dropped open. “Did you go to Pa’s?”

He shook his head. A lock of black hair fell forward on his forehead. He shoved it back into place. “Pearl told me.”

Tears pricked Lizzie’s brown eyes as she faced him. She told her story and apologized. She said that her father had already suspected something was going on. He was the first to question Lizzie about how far the relationship had progressed. “I should have said nothing and let Olive explain. I am sorry. Will you forgive me?”

Henry took it well. “The only thing I’m sorry about is that your parents took her away. At least I know how she feels. I know how I feel. And I know how your parents feel.” He looked at the woman sitting across from him at the table. “I saw how much Daniel loved you. And you returned that love.” Henry swallowed and continued, “I talked to my brother Tom about courting and women's stuff. He said there’s some rules to love that I need to learn. And I’m ready to learn them, and I’m ready to go to your father and explain myself now.”

Lizzie’s cheeks flamed pink. "I suspect they’ll give in,” she said, smiling her sweet and gentle smile. “If you'll wait for them to settle down. Give it a few days.”

“I suppose I need to get the courting rules down before I get too far into this deal.”

Lizzie scrunched her face. “What are the courting rules?”

“Tommy said I need to learn them quickly.”

“I think Tom's pulling your leg.”

A dark eyebrow shot up, and he stared at her. “That wouldn’t surprise me. I’ve been teased for years about not getting married.”

“Then it’s time you did something about it,” Lizzie said, chuckling and wagging her brows.

The dedication ceremony for the United Brethren Church was approaching. In a few days, he knew he would see Olive again. He was practicing patience, as his mama had asked. And he had found a girl to marry, as his father wanted. But was his inheritance a sure thing?

 

THE PATH TO A PROMISE, CHAPTER 2

 

CHAPTER TWO 

True to his word, David and Bud sent Henry and Ben to help on the farm. Between the two young men, they herded the cattle, tended the fall crops, and mended fences, among other daily farm chores. They took most of the herd to the market in September, lessening the work. The Winters and the Johnson families came together to help Lizzie keep up with all the farm duties in the absence of Dan.

Fall marched into the Ozarks, painting a vibrant russet, gold, and amber tapestry across the hills and hollows. The sunny days, warm like freshly baked cinnamon buns out of the oven, gave way to chilly nights that nipped at the skin, each growing shorter than the last. Autumn was as fickle as an Ozark breeze—one moment offering the lingering warmth of Indian summer, the next, a cool breath that hinted at winter's approach. The trees shed their leaves in bursts, drifting down like confetti.

Olive and Henry fell into a comfortable routine over the past weeks, their time together a bright spot in the quiet rhythms of farm life. Each evening, they gathered around the supper table, sharing simple meals that Olive and Lizzie prepared. With Lizzie often occupied with business in town after Dan's death, Olive took on the responsibility of caring for little Clara Mae and keeping the house.

Olive always had a pot of fresh coffee and tea ready, and a cake, cookies, or pie baked. In the afternoon, Henry and Ben would saunter up to the front porch, the earthy scent of fields clinging to their clothes, and sit with her. Clara Mae played nearby with her dolls, rocking horse, and blocks.

The more time Henry spent at Lizzie’s farm their bond grew. What began as casual companionship blossomed into something more. A quick game of checkers on the porch or a round of horseshoes in the yard became their way of stealing a few moments of joy amid the day's demands. Henry had a way of coaxing the shyness out of Olive, his easy laughter and gentle teasing drawing out a side of her she didn't know existed. She enjoyed the moments and cherished his laughter, the joking, and the silly antics that were a daily ritual.

As August ended, Olive turned thirteen. The day passed quietly, marked by a simple cake and kind words. A flutter of excitement stirred in her chest. She was growing up, and with each passing day, she felt herself inching closer to her secret dream of going to college. It was a dream she kept hidden. Henry kept his secret about needing a wife to secure his inheritance. As the days passed, a plan formed and spread in his heart.

Henry worked in the crisp air on an early October morning, replacing a fence post that had rotted away. He shrugged off his jacket, letting the sun's rays warm his back as he wrestled the decayed post from its hole. His thoughts drifted to his father's ultimatum a month ago. At twenty-two, his brothers' relentless teasing about his bachelorhood had only fueled his stubbornness, but his father's demand struck a nerve. He needed to find a wife and settle down. And the sooner the better! Henry proudly claimed that he had not found the right girl yet.

Plenty of pretty girls at the church picnics and the community socials cast hopeful glances his way, but Henry preferred playful banter over serious conversations. He was known for being easygoing, always ready with a joke, and quick to sidestep anything that felt too heavy. He danced with many, but none had captured his heart—until recently. The trial had stirred something in him, bringing Olive into sharp focus. Seeing her daily at the farm kept his mind on the brown-eyed girl. Thoughts of her simmered in his mind like embers waiting to catch fire. The cool water barely quenched his growing heat as Henry paused to drink from his flask.

Could Olive be the one to secure his future? Over the past few months, he admired her strength and kindness. But was he ready to settle down? The thought caught in his throat like a dry lump.

Henry and Olive grew up together, yet he'd never truly seen her before. Now, he noticed the molasses hue of her long hair and how her deep brown eyes, round as a white-tailed deer's, gleamed with a maiden's purity. These newfound realizations set his heart thudding with a rhythm as old as his father's big bass drum. He had to find someone so why not Olive?

Henry set the fence post in the hole. His brother had married Olive’s sister. The two families had a bond. Why wouldn’t their relationship work? He pushed the dirt around the new post with the toe of his boot, then stomped around it, settling it in. His daddy pushed him to get on with his life and leave their house. He supposed Daddy was right, it was time to find a wife. Get married. Settle down. He grimaced at number three.

Did he need to love the girl he was going to marry? He pondered the question. All he wanted was his inheritance. He would not answer whether he loved his bride or not. The more he thought of marriage, the more dread melted over him like butter on a hot biscuit. His throat choked up as if he’d swallowed chicken feathers. He didn’t know the first thing about how to woo a woman. How in the world was he going to convince Olive to marry him? He should ask his older brothers! Among the five of them, surely, he would get some good ideas.

Once his brothers heard his predicament, they would tease him again. He wished his oldest brother lived closer, but Lewis was a successful businessman in Texas. His brother, Frank, lived two counties away. That left Tom, George, or Walter. Walter had been sick most of the year, and his wife, Minnie, just had a baby boy. Henry would not bother him. Tom and George had strong, solid marriages. They lived off the land, as their father had taught them. Their wives were good Christian women who bore fine, healthy children. Undoubtedly, one of them would help him—and maybe help him discover God again.

With a gouge to his gut, pangs of disobedience filled his heart. Mother would be disappointed if she knew the truth about his relationship with God. She said everyone needed a prayer-filled life with the Savior. He grunted as he pushed that thought away. Back to the real world, the world of receiving his inheritance.

Urgency spilled over him like the waterfall at Sugar Creek. He finished the work on the fence and put his tools in the wagon. Throwing his jacket over one shoulder, he had a new mission to accomplish. Get advice. Get a wife. Get his land.

 

***

The newly formed United Brethren Church scheduled its dedication on a Sunday in November. Preacher Akehurst organized the church and called for people to build a congregation to praise the Lord and support each other as united brothers and sisters in the Word. Bud and Nancy Johnson were charter members, working to ensure every family in the area knew of the church. Now, the dedication services were approaching.

To prepare for the big day, Olive and Lizzie worked on dresses for the occasion. Lizzie, still mourning, was remaking a black dress by adding a white crocheted collar. Her finances were strained since Dan’s death. The farm and the blacksmith shop kept her and Clara Mae fed and the taxes paid, but left little for anything else, especially new clothes.

Olive decided to wear a buttercream yellow dress with tiny sprigs of flowers dotting the material. The bodice had a wide collar and plain white buttons. She added lace around the collar and removed the old buttons to stitch new pearl buttons in their place. The buttons were a gift from Lydia Madison, Lizzie’s childhood friend.

October deepened into chilly days and nights. Henry and Ben always arrived at the farm to do the chores and check on Lizzie, Olive, and Clara Mae. Henry’s blue eyes stole her breath away. They reminded her of ocean pictures; his black hair was like the crows circling the old dead tree in the valley—so blue-black it gleamed. She looked forward to the daily smiles and conversation with the handsome raven-haired man.

Thoughts of Henry naturally led to thoughts of marriage. Why, she'd never given marriage much thought. The sing-song rhyme played in her brain. Olive and Henry sitting in a tree, ki-s-s-i-n-g; first comes love, then comes marriage, then they're pushing a baby carriage! That thought made her want to run outside and throw up! Mama delivered the neighborhood women’s babies. And she helped care for Clara Mae. But why the woman had a baby in her belly was another subject. Did it all come about after a couple got married?

And where did love fit into the mix? A baby was love. She loved her parents. Weddings revolved around love. She read about love in dime novels and the continuing stories printed in the newspapers. There were fairy tales about Cinderella and Snow White. The Bible spoke of love and loving one another. Comparing the stories to what she felt when she thought of Henry, did love cause her to smile? Or when he stood near her and her heart thumped, was that love?

Remembering how Daniel and Lizzie courted, her smile faded. Panic filled her belly at the thought of courting a boy. She must talk to Lizzie about this! But did she want to spill the beans and ask somebody about it? Yes, she'd talk to Lizzie, her friend and confidante.

After Clara Mae was asleep that night, Lizzie joined Olive by the hearth. The fire sizzled and hissed, and a burning log pushed down into the glowing embers, throwing sparks high. The warm wood heat enveloped the room like a teddy bear’s welcome hug. The oil lamp’s glow cast shadows against the walls, with scents of oil and wood.

Lizzie sat in the Birchwood rocking chair. She shoved her hair away from her face and closed her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she said, “My back’s bothering me real bad tonight. And Clara Mae’s fussiness isn’t helping. She’s exhausted and sleeping now. Sickness is making rounds. I hope we don’t come down with it.”

Olive made another stitch, tied off the thread that held the last pearl button, and then laid it aside. Now was the time to talk to her sister. “Lizzie, I have a question. It’s important.”

“Of course! What is it?”

“Babies. I want to know all about babies.” Olive twirled a length of hair around her finger. She tapped her stockinged feet on the rug.

Lizzie’s brow rose, and she sat up in the rocker. “What about babies?” Her eyes swept over her younger sibling, carefully taking in the details of Olive’s young body. She knew Olive and Henry were spending a significant amount of time together. Suddenly, her fingers grasped the rounded ends of the rocker’s arms. She struggled for breath. "Are you sick?”

Olive’s facial expression changed when she saw Lizzie’s glare. “No, I’m fine. I want to know about babies. We’ve watched Mama helping the new mothers. But how do the babies get in the woman’s stomach?”

A smile creased Lizzie’s face, and she huffed a sigh. Her eyes grew round and bright like the moon in the night sky. A grin crept over her mouth. "Babies come from the relationship between a man and a woman.”

“When they get married?”

“Well, no, not always,” Lizzie answered, shaking her head. She looked down at the floor. Her hair, tied up in a bun on the top of her head, was loosening. When Lizzie spoke, it flopped to the left and the right.

Distant thunder rumbled and took the girls by surprise. Thunderstorms late in the year were unusual, although Missouri weather was always uncertain, no matter the season or the time of day or night. Bizarre storms were produced when warm and cold fronts met, and tornadoes and hailstorms could ruin farmers’ crops and destroy entire towns.

Lizzie pulled the shawl around her shoulders. Looking at her sister, she continued. “Love and babies don’t always go hand in hand.”

“Why?” Olive pulled her legs underneath her and snuggled into the knitted throw.

“When a man and woman are attracted to one another, they court. If they follow God’s commandments in the Good Book and behave themselves, they get married. Then they sleep in the same bed together, Sister. They have relations. That’s what makes a baby in a woman’s belly.”

Olive asked all kinds of questions. The subject was taboo in their household. Their mother avoided the subject of the marriage bed, and her daughters learned what was expected of them when they lay in it.

The storm blew in with quick fierceness. As it battered the house that night, Olive and Lizzie ignored it as they talked. Olive was relieved to be able to voice her thoughts and tell her sister about how she felt. Lizzie helped her with those anxious questions and gave good advice about courting a man, becoming engaged, and marriage.

Later, in bed, Olive lay thinking about it. She wasn’t sure she liked having these feelings for Henry Winters. Was she ready to leave Mama and Papa and live with a man? Or have a baby! Babies meant work. If she had a baby to care for, how could she attend college and become a newspaper journalist? How would she travel and sell engaging stories? First things first. Get the money. Buy a camera. Find a college. Don’t have a baby.

Another thought struck her. Did she have romantic feelings for Henry? Did he have them for her? Maybe it was only friendship. Olive recognized the love in her sister’s voice when she spoke about Dan. Lizzie found love; maybe Olive should, too. Maybe it was time to grow up. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was time to decide if she had romantic feelings for Henry Winters.

That was a lot of maybes.