Under the Desert Sky Page 4

  Just then they heard a commotion in the kitchen. “I’ll bet Phoebe’s with the women. Let’s see what’s going on back there.”

  • • •

  Adeline Bucknell was taking the last pan of cookies out of the oven when she tripped over Will Sloan’s foot and fell. She lost control of the pan and hot cookies went flying everywhere.

  Will caught one, but fell himself and crushed several of the crisp cookies. “Oh, no. We have to make some more, Mama. We can’t go home.”

  “You’ve made lots of cookies.” Phoebe knelt to help gather the crumbs. “It’s late, and you know we have things to do before we can go to sleep.”

  “You go by yourself. I can stay and play with Hannah and Adeline. Isn’t that right, Miss Gwen?”

  “They can’t play anymore,” Gwen Bucknell said. “The girls have to go to sleep, too. Anyway, if you stayed here, who’d help your mama find her way home?”

  “Here you are,” Yhomas said as he and Christian came through the swinging door leading into the kitchen. “Phoebe, has it come to this? You have to eat crumbs off the floor?”

  “We’re not there, yet”—Phoebe rose from the floor—“but if we don’t get any water, we may all have to resort to that.”

  “You heard Christian.” Yhomas indicated the man standing beside him. “He’ll have the money put together by Christmas.”

  “Were you at the same meeting I just attended?” Katie turned toward Christian. “I’m sure you’re quite talented, but I don’t think you’re a magician.” She said to her husband, “Nor did he make any claim to be, even if he is your countryman.”

  “Mr. De Wet, I must say I was quite impressed with your presentation. Were all those figures really off the top of your head?” Phoebe asked.

  Christian flashed a dazzling smile, exposing perfect white teeth that contrasted against sun-bronzed skin. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me, Mrs. Sloan. Yhomas provided some of the pertinent information before the meeting started, so I’d given some thought to a solution.”

  “I catched a cookie,” Will said. “Did my mama catch you, mister?”

  “No, no, Will. First of all it’s ‘I caught a cookie,’ but Mr. De Wet said—”

  “He said you caught him. I heard him.”

  Phoebe rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry. I believe it’s time to gather my son and head home.”

  “Phoebe, it’s late. You can’t go home now,” Katie said. “Let Trinidad or Cornello take care of your birds. That’s why you pay them.”

  “They’re not there,” Gwen said.

  “Oh, dear, have you fired them?” Katie asked.

  “It’d be good riddance if you did,” Yhomas said. “If you had somebody who really knew how to handle your flock, you could make a lot more money.”

  “You’re probably right,” Phoebe said.“But, no, I didn’t fire them. Sunday is Independence Day, and I’ve given them the week off.”

  “Independence Day? I thought the American Independence Day is in July,” Christian said.

  “It is, but this is Mexican Independence Day. And I’m afraid the fiestas last a little longer than the Fourth of July picnics and parades,” Phoebe said.

  “Well, if they’re not at your place, I’m not going to let you go home by yourself,” Yhomas said. “I’ll saddle my horse.”

  “Is it far?” Christian asked.

  “No, it’s about seven or eight miles from here,” Yhomas said.

  “Then why don’t I ride back with her?” Christian asked. “If it’s that close, I won’t get lost on the way back, and you can write up the minutes of what went on tonight.”

  “Would you mind, Phoebe?” Yhomas asked.

  “No, she doesn’t mind,” Gwen said. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. Will, help me make up a package of cookies for you to take. Then, when you get home, you can invite Mr. De Wet in and have cookies and milk before you go to bed.”

  “Nope. Can’t do that,” Will said.

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t have any milk.”

  “Well, then, girls, you’d better take Will to the summer kitchen and get some milk.”

  • • •

  After Christian and the others left the kitchen, Gwen turned to Phoebe.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you and your daughters are spoiling my son. It’s already past his bedtime, and now he’s going to insist on cookies and milk before bed.”

  Gwen let out an exaggerated sigh. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. What do you think about Mr. De Wet?”

  “He had some very good ideas. If he can put this together, it’ll help all of us.”

  Gwen stomped her foot. “Sometimes you are the densest person I know. What do you think about Christian? Isn’t he the most handsome man you’ve ever seen? And his English accent—don’t you think that makes him even more mysterious?”

  “I will grant you, he is an attractive gentleman, but that’s all I’ll say.”

  “I won’t let you stop there. Don’t you think he’d make a good husband?”

  “Gwen, don’t even think that, let alone say it. If people thought it was above my station when I married a banker, what do you think the talk would be if I went after an international financier?”

  “You don’t know that’s what he is. He’s been here for two weeks, and he’s been one of the most accommodating guests Mr. Prinsen’s ever had. Buck says he and the man he brought with him are willing to help do anything. Just the other day they helped build new plucking boxes. Now, you tell me, would a financier do that?”

  “You heard Mr. Prinsen say he worked for Cecil Rhodes for ten years, and everybody knows Mr. Rhodes is one of the wealthiest men in the world,” Phoebe said. “So, by extrapolation, I would say Mr. De Wet is both well educated and well-off.”

  Gwen shook her head. “Phoebe, don’t sell yourself short. Just because Frank Sloan browbeats you all the time, don’t listen to him. You have a lot to offer a man.”

  “Thanks, Gwen, you’re a dear friend, but I know who I am. There are days when I’m so weary I want to walk right up to Mr. Prinsen and sell every bird I have and leave. But then I go talk to Edwin and I know I can’t. Raising ostriches was my dream, and I believe I can make a living for Will and me. If I walk away, every piece of Will’s life with Edwin will be gone.”

  Gwen took Phoebe’s hands in hers. “Someday, you’ve got to stop blaming yourself for Edwin’s death. It wasn’t your fault.”

  Just then Hannah came into the kitchen. “Miss Phoebe, Mr. De Wet is out front with your buggy. He’s ready when you are.”

  “Thanks, Hannah, where’s Will?”

  “He’s with Adeline. He’s afraid you won’t let him take all the cookies.”

  “All the cookies? Well, he’s right.”

  “Let him do it. Not counting the ones that fell on the floor, there weren’t many that made it into the oven,” Gwen said. “And if you have a guest . . .”

  “You never give up.” Phoebe shook her head and followed Hannah out the door.

  • • •

  When Phoebe approached her buggy, the running lamps had already been lit, and the mirrored reflectors were casting twin beams in front of them. She could see Will hugging his bundle of cookies, while Adeline had the pail of milk.

  “I believe this young man is ready to get going,” Mr. Prinsen said. “I wish I was going home with you, because I know these cookies are going to be good. Maybe Mr. De Wet can bring me one when he comes back.”

  “Wet? Is that his name?” Will asked.

  “Come, Will, get in the buggy. You’ve had a long day,” Phoebe said. “Thank you, Mr. Prinsen, for inviting me. I have a good feeling about this meeting.”

  “I’m glad you could come. I only wish W.F. would’ve accepted my invitation.”

  Phoebe raised her eyebrows at the reference to her father-in-law, but didn’t comment.

  Adeline put the milk in the buggy and then started to lift Will.

&
nbsp; “No. I want to ride with Wet. My daddy always let me ride with him.”

  “You need to be in the buggy. Who’ll keep the milk from spilling?” Phoebe asked.

  “It won’t spill. It’s in a cream bucket with a top. And I want to ride with Wet on the horse.”

  “Ma’am, if you don’t mind, I’m perfectly fine having him ride with me.”

  “Goodie, goodie, I get to ride a horse!” Will dropped the cookies and ran to Christian.

  Phoebe chuckled as she retrieved the package. “Well, I can’t fight both of you.”

  Christian picked Will up, sat him in the saddle, then swung up behind the boy. Phoebe said her good-byes, hugging the two girls and Gwen, then climbed into the buggy and started out, the light beams showing the way.

  “My daddy used to let me hold the reins,” Will said.

  “He used to? He doesn’t anymore?”

  “He can’t. Mama says he’s in heaven.”

  Christian glanced toward Phoebe and knew she hadn’t heard the comment. “I’ll bet you miss him a lot.”

  “Not as much as mama. Sometimes she talks to Daddy in his grave.” Will hesitated. “But I don’t think he can hear her,” he added in a whisper.

  “Sure he can, if he’s in heaven.”

  When Will put his hands on the reins, Christian didn’t stop him.

  • • •

  The ride from Prinsen House to Phoebe’s farm took about half an hour. When the buggy turned into the drive, the light beams fell on a small white building.

  Suddenly, Phoebe stilled. “The lights are out!”

  Phoebe set the brake on the buggy and jumped down. Removing one of the lamps, she started running toward the building.

  Christian dismounted, then, carrying Will, ran after her.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s the brooder house. The eggs are about to hatch and the incubator lanterns should be on,” she said as Christian and Will caught up with her.

  She flung open the door, and when she did, the light of the lamp spilled into the building.

  “Oh, no,” she cried in anguish. “The eggs. They’re gone.”

  The top to the incubator was standing open and not a single egg was still inside.

  “Do you think an animal could have gotten into the shed?” Christian asked as he put Will down.

  “It could’ve been. With Trinidad and Cornello away, I shouldn’t have gone to the meeting.”

  “Mama, what’s this?” Will brought a lifeless chick to her.

  A lump formed in Phoebe’s throat as she looked behind the incubator and found a pile of shattered eggshells, the dead embryos still inside. Tears began to swell in her eyes. “I don’t think this was an animal.”

  Without even thinking, Christian put his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. She didn’t resist.

  “Why don’t you leave me the lantern and you and Will go on to the house? I’ll take care of this. He doesn’t need to see this in the morning.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Phoebe stepped back.

  “I want to. Besides, I have to earn my cookies some way. Isn’t that right, Will?”

  “Mama, I forgot.” Will took Phoebe’s hand. “Come on.” He started pulling her toward the door.

  “Go on. I’ll unhitch your horse before I come in,” Christian said. “Put a light by the door and I’ll find you.”

  • • •

  Phoebe was glad for the distraction as she went about plating the cookies and finding glasses for the milk. She thought about sitting at the dining room table, but quickly dismissed it. She and Will always ate at the little farm table in the kitchen, and she wouldn’t change just to make an impression on a man.

  • • •

  The lantern was lighting the way up to a porch as Christian approached the house. The door to the kitchen was open and he could see Phoebe putting cookies on a plate. When she turned around, Will took one and began eating it, a simple thing that any child would do. Christian thought Will could be about four or five years old, close to the age Christian must’ve been when he was put in an orphanage.

  When Phoebe came back to the table with the glasses, she saw that a cookie was missing. She said something Christian couldn’t hear, but she kissed the boy on the top of his head and put another cookie on the plate. The simple act was so natural, and yet it made Christian melancholy. Never in his life had he ever had anybody who loved him unconditionally.

  Mrs. Van Koopmans cared for him—he never doubted that—but her feelings were based on her vicarious pride in his achievements. When he wasn’t yet in his teens, he was invited into her salon, where she held her own with the leading political men of South Africa. Her friendship with Rhodes got Christian his education and his position. But never once could he remember the old and gentle lady placing a kiss on him. This snapshot of Phoebe and her son suddenly made him sad.

  • • •

  “I see him. I see Wet.”

  “Honey, his name is Mr. De Wet.” Phoebe moved to the door.

  “Wet works,” Christian said as he stepped into the little kitchen. “Are there any cookies left? I saw one find its way into someone’s mouth when his mother wasn’t looking.”

  Will reached for a cookie and put the whole thing in his mouth, a mischievous grin crossing his face.

  Christian snatched a cookie and did the same thing, causing Will to giggle uncontrollably.

  Phoebe shook her head as Will climbed onto a chair. “Have a seat.”

  • • •

  Christian and Will continued to play little games with the cookies and milk, and even though Phoebe was anxious to discuss what had happened in the brooder house, she didn’t broach the subject.

  She knew who was behind the vandalism. When Mr. Prinsen said he’d invited W. F. Sloan to the meeting and he’d declined, it made perfect sense. She hated to think what else she’d find in the morning.

  “All right, little man, it’s time for you to clean your teeth and get ready for bed.” Phoebe stood.

  “No, I want to play with Wet.”

  “You’ve had enough playing for one night. Tomorrow when I need you, you’ll be so sleepy, you won’t be able to do anything.”

  “Will you sleep here?” Will asked Christian.

  “No, I have to go back to Mr. Prinsen’s house.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s it, Will,” Phoebe said. “When you’re ready for bed, you can say good-night. Run and get your pajamas on.”

  The boy jumped down and disappeared through a door off the kitchen.

  “Thank you for being so understanding. He’s a very energetic little boy.”

  “I can see that, but he seems to have a good sense of humor.”

  Phoebe smiled. “He gets that from his father. Edwin was always joking with him.”

  “Edwin is your husband?”

  “Was.” Phoebe swallowed. “He died last year.”

  Just then Will came into the kitchen and ran to Christian, putting his arms around his neck. “Are you going to be my daddy?”

  Christian glanced toward Phoebe as she closed her eyes and bowed her head in an obvious effort to hold back tears.

  “Nobody can ever take the place of your daddy, but can I be your friend while I’m here?”

  Will nodded. “I like you. Do you like Wet, Mama?”

  “Yes, I do, but now you have to go to sleep.”

  “Can Wet put me in my bed like Daddy used to do?”

  “I think that’s a good idea. Where do you sleep?” Christian asked.

  “Mama sleeps in there, but I’m a big boy. I sleep upstairs all by myself.”

  “Then let’s find your room.”

  • • •

  When Christian came down the stairs, the kitchen was empty, but the back door was standing open.

  He stepped out and found Phoebe in a porch swing. “Do you mind if I join you?” Phoebe moved to the end of the swing, and Christian sat beside her. “Will’
s all tucked in. It’s not every kid who sleeps with an ostrich chick. Where’d he get that?”

  “Gwen and her girls made it for him.” Phoebe’s voice began to quiver. “What kind of madman would deliberately kill little chicks? They would’ve been hatched in another week. Were any of the eggs left unbroken?”

  “No. If I were guessing, I’d say they were hit with a hammer. You know how hard an ostrich egg is. Do you have any idea who did this?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Your father-in-law?”

  Phoebe jerked around, causing the swing to swerve. “What made you say that?” Phoebe challenged.

  “It was just a comment Yhomas made. He said you had the beginnings of a prosperous troop of birds, but every time you come close to getting ahead, your father-in-law, as the saying goes, puts a fly in the ointment.”

  “He does do that, but it’s his son who’s the most unbearable.”

  “Then why do you stay here?”

  “I’ve asked myself that same question many times. If the moon is just right, it’ll cast a shadow on a tree up on that little knoll. That’s where Edwin is buried. If I leave, Will will have no connection with his father, and as much as I dislike my in-laws, I wouldn’t take that away from him.”

  “You should think about yourself.” Christian reached for her hand. He began to massage her palm, feeling the rough texture of calluses.

  Phoebe withdrew her hand quickly. “I think you should go, Mr. De Wet. Mr. Prinsen will be expecting you.”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “There’s no need to apologize; you didn’t do anything.” After a moment she began to speak again. “After Edwin died, I had a procession of prospective suitors, and I didn’t like it. I don’t have time for it, and I like my life just the way it is.”

  “I understand.”

  “If I’m going to be your friend, do I call you Mr. De Wet, or Wet, or do you have another name you’d like to be called?”

  Christian paused. He’d like to tell her his story—how he’d been known only as Jacktar for the first ten years of his life, how he seldom allowed anyone to get close to him. He sensed in her the same defenses, the same walls that were meant to keep out the pain of the past. He knew there had to be more to her story. A young woman had to have a reason why these exasperating birds meant so much to her. Why she’d work like a farmhand just to hold on to this land. Yes, there had to be a reason.