Dwight had been quite surprised to find himself enjoying his time in the little hamlet of Brownville, Nebraska. Though small, the town was bustling with amenities due to a rip-roaring steamboat trade. There were restaurants with delicious food, shops, barbers, and just about everything one could want. The town also had an abundance of saloons, although that wasn’t a vice in which he would need to indulge. Brownville sported not one, but two brick manufacturers, as well as two sawmills which furnished, among other things, plenty of firewood for the dozens of steamboats stopping there each day.
Indeed, if he ever decided to leave his own hometown, that might not be a bad place to go. Louisville seemed to be getting more crowded by the day, and with new businesses springing up, competition for customers was fierce and crime was on the rise…
“Dwight! Help!” the voice of his customer interrupted his musings and he leapt to his feet. Looking her way, he saw that she was juggling a large box, trying hard not to drop it.
He quickly slammed his hat back on his head, buttoned his jacket back up, and climbed into the driver’s perch on his cab before wheeling Pepper around in a tight circle. In moments, he rolled up to the young girl and set the brake again before jumping down and taking the box from her with a laugh.
“Miss Haldeman, I hope this fits in my cab. If not, you might have to send someone back for it.”
“Oh Dwight, I’m sure you can make it fit,” she cooed as she mooned up into his face. “I have complete confidence in you, you know. Why, I believe you can do anything!” she added with all of the simpering of a southern belle.
“Well, miss, I’ll do my best,” he mumbled as he assisted her up into her seat and then wrestled with the large package, trying to secure it for travel. He finally decided to wedge it between the back of the cab and his legs and thankfully flicked the reins to commence the return trip.
Aw well, another day, another four bits. Right?
Just as the sun was setting, Dwight climbed the three steps up to the back porch and walked through the open door of the modest shotgun house on Sixth Street where he had lived all his life.
Inside were four of the females that made up his family. Yes, there were times when he felt outnumbered, being the only pants-wearing human in a sea of skirts—but he was used to the moods and emotions associated with it. As his father used to say, they came with the territory.
His mother, Pearl, and sister, seventeen-year-old Olivia, were just spooning supper into serving bowls for the evening meal. Grace and Faith were racing into the kitchen at that moment, only to be immediately cautioned by their mother, “No running in the house, girls!”
Ahh, the sights, sounds, and aromas of home. Dwight couldn’t resist a smile at the comfortable familiarity of it all.
He crossed to the sink to wash his hands, exchanging amused glances with Livvy. He figured they were thinking the same thing—If I had two bits for every time Mother has said that to the twins, I’d be rich.
Drying his hands, Dwight sat down at the head of the table in his father’s chair—the place that he had been unable to make himself claim until just recently, when Pearl had insisted that, as he was the man of the house now, he might as well.
Finally settled, everyone reached for the hands to the right and left of themselves and Pearl gave a short blessing for the food.
With a chorus of amens, the diners reached for their napkins as Pearl served herself a scoop of creamed peas and passed the bowl to her right.
“How was your day, DJ?” she asked her nightly question.
He smiled at her down the length of the table as he took a drink of lemonade, bestowed with sparkling ice and sweetened just the way he liked it. “It was all right. About average.”
Livvy leaned close, her normal teasing glint lighting up her honey-brown eyes that were identical to his own. “Did you haul your girlfriend around again today?”
Bristling, Dwight flashed his sister an aggravated glare. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Mmm, hmm,” she tossed back, then pursed her lips and batted her eyelashes in a very bad imitation of a southern belle. “Oh Dwiiiiiiiiight, can you take little ol’ me on a buggy ride, my handsome driver?”
“Awe, cut it out, Liv,” he grumbled, taking the bowl of chicken and dumplings from her and plopping some on his plate.
Olivia snickered as she accepted the mashed potatoes from their mother. “Touchy, touchy.”
Dwight clamped his mouth shut, striving to tamp down his frustration by reminding himself that it wasn’t Liv’s fault the Haldeman girl was so downright annoying.
He took a bite of the delicious chicken, idly registering that Olivia had probably spent the better part of the day preparing it. Since their mother now worked five days a week and Pauline had left to join her husband, Livvy had quit her part time job at a hotel downtown and taken over
