Page 8 of Mail-Order Brides Wishes
His eyes stinging with amusement, he turned to Brynlee who watched with an echoing smile.
“Do ya mind if I call you Brynlee?” He’d noticed how Susie addressed her but didn’t feel free to use the nickname.
“I prefer Bryn.” She appeared about to say something then closed her mouth.
Wanting to get the details sorted out between them he continued, “I’d be pleased if ya’d call me by my name. Flint. Do ya mind?”
The skin at the corner of her eyes crinkled. “I’d like that.” A quick nod. “I’ve been thinking of you that way since I agreed to marry you.”
He couldn’t explain why that should please him, but it did. “Could the little one call me Uncle Flint?”
“It would be appropriate. Susie, come here please.” The child chased a butterfly. She sighed as she stopped and returned to Brynlee’s side who squatted to Susie’s level. “Honey, you remember I told you that Mr. March and I would get married?”
More yellow-haired head nodding. “And we live wif him?”
“Now that we’re married and we’re going home with him, you can call him Uncle Flint.”
She jerked around to look at Flint, blue eyes wide.
He stood stock still as she measured him as surely as any head wrangler ever had. Would she see that he meant nothing but good for her? To the best of his ability.
“My papa says girls is useless. Says I was ’posed to be a boy.”
The air forgot to move. The birds stopped chattering as those unkind words drowned all other sounds.
“Well now.”Lord God, please could ya give me words to heal that awful hurt.“Can’t say as I agree. How could I enjoy big blue bows if you was a boy?”
He waited. He didn’t need any words from her to know she wanted… needed … to hear more good things about a girl. It wasn’t something he’d given any thought to and wished he had. But slowly the words came.
“I think boys are fine. They must be, ’cause I was one once upon a time. But my mama was a girl and so was yours and so was Aunt Bryn’s and I know they musta been special cause look at us.” His glance circled them. “Ain’t we somethin’ fine? Why, even the birds know it.”
They all turned to listen to the bird song from the trees.
“And I’m guessing that crow wasn’t yelling at you. He was yellin’ at the others sayin’ ‘Didcha see that girl? Ain’t she something?’”
Susie giggled.
“Thank you,” Bryn whispered.
He gave a quick nod. “Guessin’ we all need to remember we’re something special. Made by God and all.” But it pleased him to think he’d been able to say something to satisfy both Susie and Bryn.
They returned to the wagon and continued toward home. Susie was between him and Bryn. At first, she crowded to her aunt’s side.
Flint told hisself that it would take time for her to accept him. Still longer for her to welcome him. But he meant to do all he could to make it happen sooner rather than later.
“Look at that bird.” He pointed to a hawk overhead. Stopped the horses. “Listen.”
The hawk made its usual screaming kee-eeeee-arr sound.
Susie bounced forward, her face lifted to watch the hawk. “What’s he saying?”
“I recall asking my pa the same thing. Pa said what did I think the bird was sayin’? Well now, I couldn’t come up with an answer. Pa said maybe the hawk was sayin’, ‘Look at me up here in the sky.’” He broke off, thankful when no one seemed to notice that his words had grown husky. But he hadn’t thought much of his pa for some time, having learned that the memories hurt. They came with a load of loneliness. Course he wasn’t alone anymore. He had a wife and child.
Wouldn’t Pa be surprised? And pleased?
A familiar knot inside him loosened half a turn.
They approached a gravelly hillside where he knew certain wildflowers grew. “Up ahead ya can see pink flowers. They’s called Bitterroot flowers. My pa had a book that told about wildflowers and growin’ things in the west. He said the flower has bitter roots that some people eat.” Although he hadn’t opened that book since Pa’s passing, he still had it. One of the few things he carried with him no matter where he worked.
