Beyond All Measure by Dorothy Love Page B

and started home. Ada looked up. The sun had disappeared behind thick clouds, threatening rain. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Ada settled Lillian on the seat, unwound the reins from the hitching post, and climbed into the buggy.
    “Get up there, Smoky.” She was surprised how quickly she was growing accustomed to driving. They turned out of the churchyard, and another flick of the reins had the gray horse trotting toward home.
    “I enjoyed the quilting circle,” Ada said. “I’m glad you invited me.”
    Lillian sat stiffly, her hands folded on her lap, her face stony. She seemed acutely interested in Smoky’s hindquarters.
    Ada sighed. “I’m sorry if you’re upset with me about the hat.”
    “My nephew hired a lady’s companion, not a milliner.”
    “I won’t neglect my responsibilities to you.”
    “For what Wyatt is paying you, I should have your undivided attention.”
    Heavenly days! Had Lillian gone shopping lately? Had she no idea of the cost of even the barest of necessities? Seven dollars a month might sound like a lot, but it would go all too quickly.
    “You will have my full attention whenever you need me. But in the evenings—”
    “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. You’ll do what you want to do no matter what I say. But—”
    A sudden gust of wind stirred the dust on the road. Lillian clamped one hand on her hat and looked up. “I don’t like the looks of that sky. We may be in for a blow.”
    Ada urged Smoky into a faster trot. They passed the lumber mill. Men scurried about, covering the equipment with tarps and driving the loaded wagons into the long sheds.
    “Should we stop here?” Ada glanced at the sky with growing apprehension. Thick black clouds boiled up, obscuring the mountaintops.
    “I want to go home. If you’ll stop dawdling, we can make it before the rain hits.”
    Ada pushed the horse as fast as she dared. Just as the house came into view, the sky opened. Lightning arced across the darkened sky. Rain pelted their faces.
    “Drive into the barn!” Lillian yelled.
    Ada flicked the reins once more and Smoky obeyed, coming to a halt at the barn door. Ada jumped down, and her shoes sank into mud that was rapidly becoming as thick as cake batter. She lifted the bar, heaved open the door, and led the horse inside, past hay bales, rakes, pitchforks, and a heap of dusty harnesses. The smell of hay and manure filled her nose.
    “Wait here,” Ada told Lillian. “I’ll fetch your rain cape and umbrella.”
    “I’m all right. Or I will be as soon as I get out of these wet clothes. I feel like a drowned rat. Help me down.”
    Ada wrapped one arm around Lillian’s waist and led her across the mire. By the time they reached the porch, they were soaked to the skin, and Lillian was pale and shivering. They took off their muddy shoes and went inside.
    “Do you need help changing your clothes?” Ada sat on the bottom stair and peeled off her clammy stockings.
    “I can manage.” Lillian waved her away. “You should get out of your things, too, before you catch a cold.”
    “I’ll change as soon as I put the teakettle on.”
    “Forget tea. My feet are wet and cold as a wagon tire. A day like this calls for spirits.” Lillian gestured toward the sideboard. “Pour us a brandy, girl—purely for medicinal purposes, of course. Then we’ve got to get supper started.”
    Half an hour later, dressed in dry clothes and warmed by the brandy, Ada spread her wet clothes on the porch rail beneath the overhang and went to the kitchen to start supper. Lillian snuggled into a blue dressing gown and sat in her wheelchair near the cookstove, directing Ada as she mixed the dough for biscuits and sliced apples for dumplings. While the biscuits baked, Ada set the table and started a pot of coffee.
    Wyatt arrived a short time later and went straight to the barn to see after Smoky, then opened the front door and stepped into the parlor.
    “Take that rain gear off, Wyatt Caldwell!”