A Gown of Spanish Lace by Janette Oke Page B

tried, Lord. They tried everything they knew. They couldn’t go on searching forever. They have lives—families of their own—to tend to. Help me to leave Ariana…in your hands.”
    She blew her nose and straightened bent shoulders. Somehow she would find the strength to go on. She knew that strength must come from God.

    “Where’d ya git thet thing?” asked Sam, his eyes round with amazement.
    Laramie reined in his horse, bringing the pack horse to a halt as well. The tin tub bumped up against the outstretched boughs of a spruce tree, and Laramie pulled the lead to ease the horse over so there would be no chance of damage to his important cargo.
    “Found it,” he said simply as he swung lightly down from the saddle.
    Sam lifted his hat and scratched his balding head.
    “Yer gonna take a heap of teasin’ iffen the fellas see ya with thet,” he observed.
    Laramie simply shrugged his wide shoulders and busied himself with untying the ropes that held the tub in place.
    Sam chuckled. “Ain’t seen nothin’ like thet since I was a kid,” he observed as he ran his hand over the cold metal.
    “Can’t figure how one carries it when it’s full of water,” mused Laramie as he lowered the tub to the snow. “It’s heavy as is.”
    “Ya don’t,” explained Sam patiently. “Ya put it where ya want it an’ then pour the water in.”
    Laramie looked surprised. “How do ya git the water outta it?” he asked innocently. “Thing ain’t got no drain spout.”
    “Ya dip it out,” Sam answered.
    Laramie stood to his full height and rubbed the back of his hand across his brow.
    “Seems like I got me a powerful amount of work here,” he said softly. “Sure hope she don’t count on using it too often.”
    Then he turned back to his saddlebags. “Got a few other things, too,” he informed Sam in conspiratorial tones.
    “Like?” asked Sam.
    “Some soap. Couple towels. This here—what ya call it—wash towel.”
    “Washcloth,” Sam corrected.
    “Some hair soap.”
    “Where’d ya git all thet stuff?” asked Sam again.
    Laramie gave the older man a smile. “You got yer secrets—I got mine,” was all he would say.
    “Seems ta me yer taking yer guardin’ duties awful serious-like,” muttered Sam.
    Laramie made no comment.

    Ariana was both surprised and delighted when the tub arrived—without comment—in her small room and was deposited close to the big iron stove. Silently she watched as Laramie filled both the kettle and the basin and placed them on the stove. Then he emptied a saddlebag of its contents, spreading the small items on the table.
    “Thank you,” said Ariana softly.
    Laramie picked up the pail to go for more water, outwardly calm, though inwardly in turmoil. He had never been thanked before in his life. Her words caught him off guard. He nodded his head toward her but did not look her way. “I’ll git more water,” was his only comment.
    After he left, Ariana moved to look at what he had left behind on the table. Soap, a hand mirror, towels, a couple of washcloths, a bottle of shampoo advertised to make “one’s tresses silky and perfumed,” and a pair of ivory-tipped manicure scissors. In spite of her circumstances, Ariana had to smile. At least these few things would help to make her feel more human.
    On the other hand, the simple items brought new worry to her already troubled heart. It looked as though they were expecting her to occupy the cabin for some time to come. The very thought made Ariana want to put her head in her arms and weep. Instead, she stiffened her back and tried to turn her thoughts to other things.

    While Laramie was hauling and heating the water for her bath, Ariana was looking for some way to hang one of the towels over the fully exposed window. Even though the pane was so dirty one could hardly see out of it, she didn’t want to take any chances with someone seeing in.
    But there were no nails, no pegs, no way of assuring any privacy. She still stood