Heartland Courtship. Lyn Cote

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      Then she wished he wouldn’t frown so. His negativity prompted her stomach to flip up and down. And she noticed he’d worn a hole in one elbow of his blue shirt. She’d need to mend that before it dissected the sleeve completely. It was a wifely thought that she resisted. He was her hired hand, not her responsibility.

      When he finished, she smiled bravely to boost her resolve and strode toward a boat that had just docked. She had sold her baked goods before, but never to strangers and all by herself. Brennan had come only because he was paid to, not because he was part of her venture. But I’ve always been by myself. And I’ll likely always be so. She shook her head as if sending the thought away. I like being alone.

      “Are you sure you want to do this?” Brennan asked from behind her.

      “Quite sure,” she said, denying that what she really wanted to do was run home, denying that she’d like him to come along for support. Speaking to strangers always tested her.

      She lifted her mouth into a firmer smile. She marched toward the dock, repeating silently, I will not run from my future. My plan will succeed.

      She expected Mr. Merriday to stay and watch her. However, when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that he’d walked away from the wagon and was heading toward the saloon. This nearly halted her in her tracks. What? Did the man drink? And in daylight?

      The fact that she had reached the pier, her goal, shut down this line of thought. She reinforced her thinning smile. “Good day!” she called out to the men standing or working on the boat, tied to the pier. “I’m Miss Rachel.” She had intended to say her full name but Brennan’s voice had somehow seeped into her mind. “I have baked goods for sale.”

      She had expected smiles. People always smiled when she offered them her treats. The men merely looked wary.

      Finally one man asked, “What kind of baked goods?”

      “I have apple fastnachts and sugar cookies.” Fastnachts, yeast doughnuts filled with fruit jam or creamy custard and sprinkled with sugar, were popular in Pennsylvania.

      “Got any bear claws?” one man asked.

      “No, I don’t.”

      The faint hope in many faces looking toward her fell. And so did her own hope. Then a thought bobbed up in her mind. She walked past the workmen on the pier and stepped onto the moored boat. “May I speak to the captain, please?”

      * * *

      Soon Rachel smiled up into the captain’s face. “I’m offering a sample of my baked goods.”

      The tall, trim man with dark sideburns and harsh features did not look friendly. But then he glanced down. “Fastnachts?” His voice echoed with surprise.

      “Yes, with apple jam and cinnamon. Please help thyself.” And he did. And with his first bite, a powerful smile transformed his unwelcoming expression. “Just like my grandma used to make. You must be from Pennsylvania.”

      She nodded, her heart calming. “Yes, I’m homesteading here and plan to sell baked goods and sweets to the river trade. I’m Miss Rachel Woolsey.”

      “Pleased to meet you, miss. Do you have more of these? I know they won’t keep for more than a day, but I’d love to have one with my coffee later.”

      “I fried three dozen this morning.” Then she turned to the crew hovering nearby. Her spirits were rising like dough on a warm, humid day. “I’d like each of thee to have a sample, too. Please.” She motioned toward them.

      The men lined up and cleaned off her tray in seconds. One black porter gushed, “Best I eat since I was in New Orleans and had beignets, miss. And I thank you.”

      “Beignets?” Rachel echoed. “Are they similar?”

      “Yes, miss, but with powdered sugar.”

      “Was it the same dough?”

      “I’m no cook, miss.” The man shook his head and then grinned. “But you certainly are!”

      The other men agreed heartily. And her spirit soared.

      “Miss Rachel, thank you for letting us sample your wares. I’d like to buy another two dozen for me and my crew,” the captain announced.

      Rachel thrilled with pleasure. “Wonderful. Thee is my first customer.”

      “But not your last,” the captain said, smiling down at her.

      Elated, she scurried back to her cart and Brennan met her there. “We need to bag up two dozen for this boat.” She busied herself wrapping each doughnut in waxed paper and filled two paper sacks. She delivered them to the captain.

      He bowed. “Thank you, miss. You brought me sweet memories I had long forgotten.”

      “My pleasure, captain. Please, I’d appreciate thy letting others know I’ll be here with fresh baked goods daily. I also plan on making fudge and other candy.”

      A happy murmur from the crew greeted this.

      Grinning and promising to see her the next time they docked in Pepin, the captain bowed again and then called cheerfully to his crew to get busy or they wouldn’t get another doughnut.

      Buoyant with her success, Rachel walked back to the cart. Brennan lounged against it.

      “We goin’ home now? That’s the only boat here today,” he asked.

      She sensed now he was worried about something. What? “Let’s fill up the tray with the remaining goods.” Rachel glanced up the street. “And please help me with the strap again.”

      He did so, arranging it around her neck once more. Their nearness once again distracted her, stirred odd sensations. She brushed aside their brief embrace the night before.

      “What are you up to, Miss Rachel?”

      “I need to make the mouths of my neighbors water, too.” She grinned at him. She’d learned today that while generosity should be its own reward, it also made good business sense.

      Soon she entered Ashford’s store, jingling the bell. Brennan followed her in as if curious. Near the chairs by the cold stove sat only an older man in a wheelchair. He nodded to her politely. Had she met him?

      Rachel nodded to him in case she had, then turned. “Good day, Mr. Ashford,” she greeted brightly.

      The storekeeper looked dubious. “How may I help you, Miss Woolsey?”

      “I am here to offer samples of my baked goods.” She stopped right across the counter from him.

      He looked at her and then at the tray. He reached for one just as his wife walked down the stairs into the store. His hand halted in midair.

      “Miss Woolsey,” Mrs. Ashford said disapprovingly, “I saw you just now talking to men on that boat.”

      “Yes, I am starting my business. Today I’m giving away samples of my baked goods.”

      Mrs. СКАЧАТЬ