Through Rushing Water Part 38

Will glanced at Goldie, who watched the hubbub from the back porch. He'd say his good-byes, then they could walk Sophia back to school.

"Come try our crepes!" Josie pulled her mother's arm. "Miss Makinoff said we did a good job."

"Thank you so much for staying with the children." Tilly embraced Sophia. "I hope they weren't too wild."

"Not at all. They were delightful."

"We're not wild," Leo said. "She's used to Indians."

"Who are much more civilized than you." Will rubbed his knuckles in Leo's hair.

Buddy barked. A man climbed up the drive carrying a lantern. The lights from the house showed Mr. Sullivan, the caretaker at Brownell Hall. "I saw the carriage return, so I've come for Miss Makinoff."

So much for Will's plan. Rotten Omaha. Everyone could see what everyone else was doing.

"You are too kind, Mr. Sullivan. One moment, please. I have a concluding French lesson for my students. Line up, s' il vous plait. Gros bisous." Sophia clasped Lafayette by the shoulders and kissed his cheeks. The boy's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Sorry, kid, I saw her first.

Then she grabbed Leo by the ears and managed to keep him from squirming away. Josie lifted her face and gave as many kisses as she got. Buddy and Goldie joined the line. With a laugh, Sophia bent to the pups, earning a wet kiss in her ear from Goldie.

Will opened his arms and she stepped into them, bringing her own sweet fragrance. Yes. He had her right where she belonged. "I'm sorry I can't walk you home," he whispered as the first kiss brushed his cheek, making his skin tingle.

At the second kiss, she said, "I have missed you terribly."

She missed him? His blood rushed warm, making his head spin. The third kiss was last, but not nearly enough. "Can you wear your riding skirt to the picnic tomorrow?"

Sophia's eyes glittered. "Mais, oui! Oh yes!" Then she hurried off with Mr. Sullivan. "Bonne nuit!"

"Bonne nuit!" the children called.

Floating a good foot off the ground, Will collected Goldie and they headed home.

Sophia had missed him.

Sophia had been thinking about him.

Sophia agreed to go riding with him tomorrow.

At his gate he stopped. Why had he gone to Harrison's? He couldn't remember to save his life.

But it didn't matter. He'd think of it later.

Right now he had Sophia on his mind.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE.

Then the player grabs the handkerchief and tries to catch the runner," Will's sister, Charlotte, explained. A schoolteacher in Exira, Iowa, she expounded on educational topics like a zealot. She had Will's curly hair, albeit with a touch of silver, and Harrison's full cheeks. "Meanwhile the runner tries to get back to the s.p.a.ce left open in the circle."

"Yes, I remember playing a similar game in Russia." Sophia fanned herself. The heat must be affecting her head. Ordinarily she enjoyed talking about teaching, but today she could think only of Will. Where was he? When would he come for her?

The Union Pacific Railroad's bra.s.s band performed "Yankee Doodle." A company of soldiers pa.s.sed, marching with enthusiasm if not precision.

"Mama, Aunt Charlotte, Miss Makinoff!" Leo barreled into them. "Elephants, hippopotamus, tigers, rhinoceros!"

"Where?" Sophia reached for her pistol but did not see any danger.

"On a poster." Lafayette shrugged, the expression on his face shifting between childish excitement and adolescent boredom. "The circus is coming Sat.u.r.day."

"Can we go, Mama?" Josephine asked. "I have always wanted to see a circus." "Always" being the entire four years of her life. Tilly and Sophia exchanged smiles, trying not to laugh.

"Only well-behaved children may attend the circus," Charlotte answered with a waggle of her finger. "No beggars or whiners."

Sophia hoped she set aside her teacher's voice more easily than Charlotte did.

"Sophia, I distinctly remember pink rosettes on your hat," Tilly said. "You'll have to let the milliner know they've fallen off, so she can attach new ones."

"She may have gone back east," Sophia said, trying not to let the hope seem too obvious.

"Let's go watch the baseball game," Harrison called to the children. They headed downhill to a vacant lot with the ambitious name of Jefferson Square.

"We had a lovely Fourth of July picnic last year," Tilly told Sophia as she stacked the plates. "Perfect weather. The whole town celebrated the centennial. One of the Creighton brothers gave a speech. Was it Edward? No, he's pa.s.sed. It must have been John. Then the news came about General Custer. We were sick with worry for Will."

"We were never in any danger." With the exception of the Brule, whiskey traders, and the heartbreak of watching friends suffer. Sophia offered up a silent prayer that the Poncas might be spared further anguish. "The Poncas all love and respect Will."

Charlotte fanned herself with a napkin. "Can the Indian understand the concept of love, of respect?"

Sophia gritted her teeth. Charlotte lived in a state with an Indian name, but had yet to meet an actual live Indian. "Certainly. They are a loving people, especially toward their children. Elders are treated with a great deal of reverence."

Charlotte frowned. "You and Will make them sound like regular people."

"Exactly." Sophia stood to help Tilly shake out the blanket. "Perhaps stronger, better than us. How many white people could have survived years of starvation, attacks, broken promises-"

"Do I hear a rousing Fourth of July speech?" Will sauntered up and grabbed the picnic box. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing his wrists . . . strong bones, ropy muscles, long fingers. Sophia's heart increased its pace from a walk to a trot. She squeezed the blanket to keep from throwing herself into his arms.

"Tilly, how about I stow this." It was not a question. "Charlotte, I'll borrow Sophia for a while, if you don't mind." He gave Sophia a sidelong glance-a Ponca habit or a touch of nervousness? "We can go riding now, if you don't mind missing a couple of innings."

"Not at all." Finally, an opportunity to be alone with Will. She had been waiting for this for weeks, since they had left the Agency. "I would be pleased to join you."

He whistled. A group of children broke apart, releasing a yellow dog. With a joyful woof Goldie raced around Sophia and Will three times before slowing enough to be petted. Her whole back end wagged.

"She looks wonderful," Sophia told Will as they walked to the surrey. "And so do you."

"We're both eating on a regular basis." Will wedged the basket under the carriage seat, then turned to her and shook his head. "Every meal I think about our friends."

"And pray they have something to eat." Sophia nodded her understanding.

With the crowd watching the baseball game, quiet reigned on this street. She should take the opportunity and speak her mind before they were interrupted-before the children decided to join them, or one of Will's old friends recognized him, or someone else wanted to ask about life among the savages. "I have so much to talk to you about, I do not know where to start."

"I have something to show you first." Evidently Will had made considerable effort planning for this ride. He had unharnessed the horses from the surrey, then saddled and bridled them. He held the stirrup for her. "This is Traveler. The other's Ajax."

She released her skirt and mounted. "I have missed you so much. I have missed you at breakfast and supper, and our walks back and forth to school, and your visits-"

His finger pressed under her chin. "We'll talk. After our ride."

He swung into the saddle with ease. Goldie marched ahead of the horses as if she knew their destination.

Sophia squeezed her knees, encouraging Traveler to catch up so she could see Will's face. But the horse seemed determined to keep his nose by the other's tail. Quite frustrating. Except . . . this was the first time she had seen Will ride. In truth the view was rather entrancing. As with everything else he did, he moved with casual grace. She forced her gaze to Traveler's mane and tried to rein in her thoughts.

Her heart galloped but her horse plodded. Why could she not have a mount like the dapple gray Arabian trotting toward them? The dog behind the mare growled at Goldie. The young rider, resplendent in a crimson habit, whistled and brought the dog to heel. She executed a tight turn away from them, picked up speed, and sailed over a fence. The dog followed.

"Oh. That was Grace, one of my favorite students."

"She has a pet coyote? Now that's a curiosity."

"She has a gift with animals. Yes, my students are interesting, and so are the teachers. But they are not you. I miss your thoughts, your way of looking at life, your understanding of our Christian walk."

"You'll make more friends."

"But none challenge me like you."

"Are you saying you don't like your job?" he asked. "Because I'm sure Charlotte could find you a one-room schoolhouse somewhere in Iowa."

Perhaps he was angrier than she thought. But no, he held his shoulders in a relaxed manner.

"I must apologize," Sophia said. "When I said you would make a good diplomat, I meant it as a compliment to the most talented man I know. I never meant to disparage your gifts as a carpenter or to imply that you are not skilled as a builder of homes."

"That's why I'm bringing you here." He turned the corner and dismounted, looping the reins through a fence of iron made to look like rail.

She hitched Traveler and hurried to catch up. "Will, it truly does not matter to me what you build, what sort of work you do."

"It matters to me." He paused, his hand on the gate, then started up the brick walk. Goldie raced ahead, investigating a newly planted elm.

As many proposals as she had suffered through, Sophia ought to be able to offer one with a modic.u.m of grace. "After this past year," she stammered, "I would venture to say I know you quite well. Well enough to-"

She stopped. Where was he leading her?

Sophia looked up and her breath caught. A two-and-a-half-story mansion with a tower presided over the street. Cream trim and a gray slate roof complamented the handsome dark-red brick. Paired columns supported a deep porch in the front and a porte cochere on the side. "Whose house is this?"

"Andrew and Caroline Poppleton's."

She gasped again. Perhaps she did not know Will. "You built this?"

"In the six weeks since I've been back? No. I'm doing the finish work with my crew. The family moves in next week."

A gangly boy raced from the carriage house, clicked his heels, and bowed.

Will made the introductions. "I'm hoping to find out why he was wandering around Omaha alone, where his family is."

"Guten Tag," Sophia ventured.

Armin burst forth with a long, chattering explanation.

"He speaks a Frisian dialect." Sophia shook her head. "Perhaps the German Catholic church might have a parishioner who could interpret."

Will unlocked the enormous door with etched gla.s.s windows and carvings that mirrored the angles of the porch, then held it open for her.

Sophia stepped into the vestibule. The air smelled of fresh-cut wood tinged with the biting odor of varnish. Armin pointed out all the features with the enthusiasm of a patent medicine peddler. Diagonal strips of walnut flooring, polished to a gla.s.sy shine, led the eye to a magnificent stairway. It angled upward, graced by a carved newel post and rail. Paired bal.u.s.ters on each step echoed the paired columns outside. A stained gla.s.s window of a garden scene lit the soaring s.p.a.ce with sparkles of color. "It is beautiful!"

"I'll get the air moving." Will stepped into the drawing room and opened a window. It glided up silently, without any effort on Will's part, and stayed up. A gentle breeze brushed the chandelier with a faint tinkle of crystals.

Armin tugged on Sophia's elbow, directing her attention to the carvings embellishing the bay window, the moldings decorating the tall ceiling, the elegant marble mantel. A second smaller chandelier hung in the corner, at head-height. "This is unusual."

"Mrs. Poppleton has a Steinway grand piano."

The design came together. "How perfect for all manner of entertaining: dances, musicales, weddings-" Oh dear. She truly did have marriage on her mind.

"The wallpaper crew comes tomorrow."

"Wallpaper will distract from the beauty of the woodwork. It is not necessary with plaster this perfect."

The corner of Will's mouth curved upward. "I'll tell Mario you give him a pa.s.sing grade."

Armin slid open the pocket doors to the dining room.

"And covering these floors with carpet would be an insult, to say the least."

The dining room boasted another chandelier hung from a raised inlay ceiling, the chair rail Will and Mrs. Poppleton had discussed, and-Sophia stepped on the buzzer in the middle of the floor.

"Mrs. Poppleton liked your idea." Will's boots, shiny and new, echoed on the herringbone pattern of the floor, picking up the pace. Armin toured her through a library lined with bookshelves, a window seat, and shutters, then a butler's pantry with floor-to-ceiling cabinets. The kitchen had more cupboards than Sophia had ever seen, plus an icebox, an enormous stove with warming oven, a sink, and a pantry.

Will nodded at the back stairway. "Upstairs, four bedrooms, a bathroom with hot and cold running water, and a maid's room."

"What is this?" An alcove in the hall might hold a treasured sculpture, except for the wires sprouting from its shelf.

"It's for a new invention the Poppletons saw in Philadelphia at the Centennial Exhibition. A telephone. Sends voices over wires. He'll be able to talk to his office downtown without leaving the house."

"Without having to use a telegraph operator or Morse code? I would like to try such an invention."

"I'm not sure when A. J. will be able to buy one, but he wanted a place for it in his house." Will closed the window, then locked the door behind them.

Armin executed another bow, then returned to the carriage house.