When she straightened again, he took her other hand and, holding both of her hands loosely between his, said, 'I love you, Mary. You know that, don't you?'
Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, and she didn't try to hide them from him but looked at him squarely and answered, 'Yes, Aaron. I know that.' 'Do you love me?' he asked, and a tear rolled off her cheek while she tried to stop it from staining the precious old ivory satin. 'Oh, Aaron, I do. I love you so very much.'
He gripped her hands more tightly and looked at her, standing slim in the beautiful old wedding dress, and said, 'You will always be my beautiful bride. If I could, I'd dress you in this gown for our wedding and give you the rest of my name.'
Her tears were falling freely now, and as he took her in his arms, her face was lost in the old yellowed ruffles of his shirtfront. He rocked her as they clung together, and as they swayed, the oats gave way beneath their feet. They stumbled a bit, off balance, but righted themselves again.
The rain was wearing itself out, disintegrating into a soggy mist, when Aaron and Mary packed away the lovely old things in the trunk again. They were sadly quiet. The trunk was too heavy to hoist back up again, so Aaron slid it into a corner of the oat bin, saying, 'The mice won't get into it. It's made too well. I'll have Jonathan help me put it back up someday.'
They climbed out of the oat bin then and stood in the open aisle in front of the door. Aaron put his arm around Mary, and she dropped her head into the hollow of his shoulder. They stood like that a long time, watching the misty rain outside.
They saw the vague outline of the horse and rider come over the rise of the road from the east and disappear from their view as the barn came between them and him. 'What time did the stationmaster say the train comes in?' she asked. 'Three-fifteen P.M.,' he answered, but he needn't have bothered. They knew it was Jonathan. They saw the man and his mount again, nearer now, and Aaron pulled Mary back into the shadow of the granary to hold her one last time. He kissed her so hard she could feel her own teeth cutting into her top lip. Both of her arms were around his neck, and she strained her body into his, feeling nothing but the bulky work jackets between them as he cinched her in arms that were already feeling the loneliness of not holding her, even before it came to be so. 'Just remember that I love you, even though I can't say it or show you how much,' Aaron said, his hand at the back of her head, pulling it against him. 'Aaron…' she choked, but he pushed her gently away, saying, 'Go feed the geese now.'
Then he grabbed a gunnysack of grain and tipped it up to half fill a pail standing near the door. He turned up his collar before stepping out and heading for the well in the yard.
12
Jonathan had had a miserable ride from town. He'd thought about waiting for the weather to lift, but it looked like it had settled in to stay, so he'd put on his oldest jacket, tied the suitcase onto the back of his mare, and headed for home. Coming up the last stretch of home road, he saw Aaron by the well, raised a hand in greeting, and Aaron waved back. When he brought the horse to a stop near his brother, Aaron said, 'You had a wet ride, Jonathan.' 'Yup. We're both soaked clear through. I'd better get the horse in the barn right away.' And he clicked a sound that sent the mare the rest of the way to the barn door. Once in- side, Jonathan took care of the horse thoroughly, disregarding his own discomfort in favor of the animal. He dried her down and brushed her, then caparisoned her with a warm wool blanket as Aaron came in with the milk pails. 'How was your trip?' he asked. 'Successful,' replied Jonathan. 'You found the Black Angus to your liking?' 'I not only liked them…I bought one.' There was an ex- cited expression on Jonathan's face as
he said it. He was drying the saddle kneeling on one knee on the floor. Aaron began the milking. 'Well, that was fast work. Where is he?' 'He'll be shipped on the train at the end of the week. He's a real fine little beauty, Aaron. That he is.'
Aaron wondered how long it would be before Jonathan remembered the wife he hadn't seen in three days. He was rubbing the leather off that saddle, and it was well past dry. 'Yessir, a little beauty,' Jonathan repeated ruminatively and gave the saddle a slap, then stood up. 'Maybe you better get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death,' Aaron said. 'I'll do the chores by myself tonight.' 'I appreciate it, Aaron. I'm mighty chilly, at that.' He left the saddle there rather than take it through the rain to the lean-to. He figured Mary must be up in the house fixing supper, for there was a light burning in the kitchen. It'd sure be nice to get out of these soggy clothes and into some dry ones, he thought.
She turned toward the door as he came in, saying, 'Hello, Jonathan. How was your trip?' just like Aaron had asked. 'Fine,' Jonathan answered. 'I'd like to get out of these wet things before I tell you about it, though.' 'Do that and I'll heat the kettle,' she said, turning back to the stove.
Upstairs, the dry, warm clothes felt soothing after the chafing, wet ones he'd suffered on the ride home. It felt good to be home again. The house had the faint, musty smell of sauerkraut, not at all unpleasant. He wondered if they'd had it for dinner. He wondered, too, as he carried his wet stuff back down- stairs, how much corn they'd got planted and if it had rained all day today. It'd be good for the new seeds, but at the same time it had probably delayed the last of the planting. 'This rain will sure bring the crops up. Did it rain all day?' he asked, coming back into the kitchen. 'Aha, it's been at it like this since before dawn,' Mary said. She was glad Aaron was still outside doing chores. It made it somewhat easier for her to face Jonathan again. He had laid his wet clothing in a heap in the wet sink, and it irked her, for she was busy with the food and supper. Aaron wouldn't do that. 'Would you mind drawing up a chair by the stove and hanging your stuff over it to dry?'
He was the slightest bit taken aback, not because he minded doing it but because she'd never requested such a thing before. She always just took care of things like that. He did as she asked, though, then stayed near the stove to take the chill off himself. 'I bought us that Black Angus,' he said, rubbing his hands above the radiating heat, and she was relieved that he hadn't approached her for a kiss of greeting. 'He's a real beauty, too. Promises to be a fine, healthy stud.'
The remark hung on Mary in a strange and formidable way, and she opened her memory's door for only a fraction of a second to let in the thought that, after all, it was the reason Jonathan had made the trip-to gain a fine, healthy stud.
She felt the hot sting of guilt; then she quickly closed that hidden door and answered her husband. 'It's what you went for. I'm happy you got what you wanted, Jonathan.' Her voice betrayed none of her real thoughts. 'Wait'll you see him, Mary.'
She busied herself cooking while Jonathan raved on about all he'd seen and done at the Cattle Exposition, describing the bull he'd bought, the plans he had for it, talking so anim- atedly that he was unaware of Mary's lack of response.
Aaron came in with the milk pails while Mary dished up supper, and he went directly to the breakfront and took out clean dish towels to wet and cover the pails, taking them to the buttery to cool. It puzzled Jonathan why Mary hadn't come forward to get the dish towels for the pails as she'd always done, but then supper was on and he forgot about it.
The suppertime talk was all of the trip and the bull; very little about the trip, actually, but much about the beautiful Black Anguses Jonathan had seen firsthand, their character- istics, their assets, and their future. Mary remained quiet, but Aaron encouraged his brother with questions about the calf. They discussed the pasture situation and the extra fodder that would be required for the winter. The barn was big enough to hold the extra animal, but when he began siring calves, their present barn might be outgrown, even though the Angus calves would be marketable at a much earlier age than other breeds.
Talking of the Angus's calm disposition and even tempera- ment, they decided that ringing his nose would not be necessary, as it was with most bulls. Jonathan said that the American Breeders' Association strongly urged that all pure-bred Angus calves that were re- gistered be given a name to make identification easier. 'Since the owner has already registered the birth, his name is recorded as Vindicator,' said Jonathan with pride. 'I'm sure anxious for you to see him, Aaron. We'll ride in with the double box on Friday to meet that train.'
Then a bursting double sneeze issued from him, and an involuntary shiver followed it. 'I think you caught a
