Brady
Brady had her trunk to the back of the wagon now but was struggling to lift it high enough to slide it inside. Hope rushed over, thinking she could at least give it the extra oomph to get it over the lip of the wagon, but by the time she got there, he’d gotten it up. “Did you pack everything you own?” he muttered but didn’t wait for a response before heading back to get the other trunk.
Hope didn’t bother to follow him, not even with her eyes, though she imagined he was having even more trouble this time. He had to be tired from the first effort, and she thought the second trunk was likely the heaviest. Her mother had done a good job of packing most of her gowns and shoes into that one. She climbed up into the wagon seat, averting her eyes the best she could and trying to take in the Texas landscape.
It seemed to take a good half-hour for Brady to haul the second trunk over, and while he was lifting it into the back, it fell on his toe, causing him to blurt that curse word again. Hope covered her mouth, trying to look shocked, though she honestly wanted to laugh. Served him right for being so dismissive of her help. Once he had it up, he slid it to the back with a violent push and then came around to climb into the driver’s seat.
“Thank you.” Hope was still unwilling to look at him, though she tried to act friendly. There was something about Lola’s cousin she didn’t exactly like. He had a look about him, as if he thought he was pretty important. She also didn’t like to be dismissed.
Brady said nothing, only jerked the reins, and the horses backed up before straightening out and heading toward town. A few houses came into view first, followed by what appeared to be a main street area off in the distance. Her eyes followed the dirt road up to a large building that towered over everything else in the vicinity. Even at this distance, she could see it sprawled across the center of town. The architecture reminded her of drawings she’d seen of France. “What in the world is that?” she asked, gawking at the structure.
“The courthouse?” Brady asked, his tone letting her know he thought it a silly question. “Ain’t you heard of the Collin County Courthouse? It’s the tallest building north of San Antonio.”
Hope turned her face to look at him, absently wondering what in San Antonio was taller. “It’s quite a sight,” she replied.
Brady shrugged as if the courthouse was old news. “That’s my folks’ feed store over yonder.” He pointed across the square. “Post office over here. And the schoolhouse is just down that road there.”
He turned the wagon, and Hope fought the urge to swivel her head around so that she could continue to stare at the large structure. Instead, she gazed at the buildings on the other side of the street. There was a bank, a five-and-dime, and what appeared to be a saloon, though she thought that probably wasn’t the case from what Mrs. Howard had said. Hope had gotten the impression the town was full of teetotaling, Bible-thumping Baptists.
Just a few blocks away from the square, Brady pulled the wagon to a stop in front of a large two-story home. He jumped out and went around back but didn’t stop to get her trunks. Not sure what she should do, Hope turned her body so that she could see him as he headed up the walkway. “You need help getting down?” he yelled to her. “I figured if you could get up, you could get down. You ain’t a kitten in a tree are you?”
“Are we here then?” Hope asked. She set her bag down near her boots and climbed down from the wagon before he changed his mind and decided she needed help. Once her feet were on the ground, she turned and grabbed her bag.
“Yep. This is my folks’ house.” He was far ahead of her, but she let him go, choosing to stand back by the road for a moment and look at the dwelling. The structure was painted a grayish blue color with a wide porch and wide windows. Hope had no idea what architectural style it might be, but she liked it.
The front door opened and an older woman stepped out, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Hope studied her for a second. She did look a little unfriendly. She was wearing a dark purple dress with no frills at all, buttoned up to her chin. Her slate gray hair was pulled up on top of her head in a tight bun, and she peered at Hope over the top of her spectacles. “Well, come on in!” she hollered. “Ain’t no sense in standing in the front yard.”
Swallowing hard, Hope headed for the porch, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Was everyone in this town so straightforward? “Mrs. Howard?” Hope asked as she stepped up on the porch. She looked more familiar now, and Hope remembered being at Lola’s house once when she visited and thinking she didn’t look any friendlier than. “I’m Hope Tucker. It’s lovely to meet you.” She stretched her hand out and forced a smile.
Nita Howard looked at her hand suspiciously before giving it a quick shake. “Nice to meet you, too. Come on in. That all you brought with you?”
“Hell, no it ain’t all she brought with her,” Brady said from just inside the front door.
“Watch your language, Son,” Nita scolded. “Where is it, then? Ain’t you gonna fetch it?”
“It weighs more than you, Ma. I figure you can let Doc come carry it up the stairs later when he ain’t busy tendin’ to every scrape and bump in town.”
Confused, Hope looked back at her belongings in the wagon, thinking someone might just abscond with the entire cart. “Perhaps I could empty them and carry my things up the stairs that way?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Nita laughed. “Brady will carry them in for you in a few minutes. Just give him a moment.” In a quieter voice, she whispered, “He’s not nearly as terrible as he seems.”
The kindness in the older woman’s voice made Hope think perhaps she was not as terrible as she seemed at first either. “All right,” Hope acquiesced. “Your home is lovely.” She looked around and noticed the furnishings weren’t so different from what her folks had in their home, though some of the pieces looked more worn, as if they’d traveled a great distance to get here, which she imagined some had. She was standing in a small foyer between what appeared to be a parlor and a dining room. Ahead of her, she could see the kitchen, and the stairs were just behind Mrs. Howard. While the house was not nearly as stately as her grandparents’ home, it was large enough, and Hope thought she might feel welcome here, so long as Mrs. Howard remained kind—and Brady remained absent.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Howard said, ushering her toward the kitchen. “I bet you’re ravished after such a long trip. Why don’t you set your bag down by the stairs, and I’ll fix you some vittles?”
Hope wondered if the woman was under the impression she hadn’t eaten or drank anything the whole time she was on the train but supposed that couldn’t be the case. She really wasn’t hungry, but she found herself saying, “Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” and following Mrs. Howard into the kitchen.
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