different than the others in Smithville Parish.
“Oh, really. Did he come west to work for Marquis de Mores?”
Amethyst considered whether or not to speak of the details. Mrs. Grant seemed truly interested, and Amethyst was enjoying the conversation…. Why not, she’d never see the woman again. “Hardly. He’s only eight. You see, my sister-in-law, my dead brother’s wife, left their son off with someone we didn’t know, who took Joel west. My father insists that since the boy is his only living heir, he should come back to the home farm.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Well, aren’t you a living relative?”
“Since women are not allowed to own land, he wants Joel back.”
“Pardon me, I wouldn’t want to gainsay your father, but times and laws are changing. I own property in Chicago, and I also own the farm of my grandfather. I bought it from a—and I quote—‘legal heir’ who was letting it run to ruin. My second son is in charge of the farming; my eldest son is a lawyer. It is my third son whom I’m going to visit.”
“Have you no daughters?”
“Alas, not that survived infancy. But I am blessed with daughters-in-law, one of whom usually travels with me, but this time she is indisposed.” She leaned closer with a chuckle. “What an idiotic term for pregnant. They say men usually have a case of the wanderlust, but in our family, it is I.”
Amethyst could not help but smile back. Never had she met someone like this Mrs. Grant. But then, never before had she done many of the things she was now doing.
“Go ahead. I can tell you are dying to ask me something.”
“Your husband, is he…I mean…?”
“Mr. Grant died, I believe from overwork, some ten years ago. But he had the wisdom and foresight to make certain that I would inherit all of our businesses and assets. Some of our friends were shocked, but our sons feel as I do. If a woman has the intelligence and the education, she should be allowed to do whatever she is able. And we women are far smarter, wiser, and more capable than most men give us credit for.”
Amethyst thought back to how hard she worked on the farm and how she sold the surplus, yet her father had the final say in all things. She was no more than a hired hand, one who received no pay.
Mrs. Grant smiled sweetly, as if the words she’d uttered were not even seditious. “Don’t you agree with me? You look like an extremely capable woman, and if you’ve had any schooling…” She paused, waiting for an answer.
“Thanks to my mother, who insisted—against my father’s wishes—I attended our local schoolhouse through the eighth grade. He thought six years of not helping all day, every day, were enough.” Actually, he’d resented any of his children going to school at all but knew his sons had to have schooling if they were to better themselves and, hopefully, help provide for their pa.
“Ah, your mother is a wise woman.”
“Was. She died five years ago, and there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think of her, her sayings, how hard she worked and yet managed to have a song and a smile.” Amethyst thought to the coins in her hem, the Bible that weighted her carpetbag, and the small gown, so lovingly stitched and embroidered. “So many gifts she managed to give me.”
“And do you take after her?”
Amethyst thought for a bit. “You know, I never thought about it, but I guess that I do.”
“Why don’t you come sit over here by me, and it will be easier for us to visit? I knew there was a reason I chose these double seats.”
Surprising herself, Amethyst pulled her carpetbags out from under the seat and, one at a time, shoved them under the other. By the time she finished, her hat hung down over her ear and her hair had won and cascaded down her back. She rolled her eyes, settling herself in the seat.
“I should just braid it and wrap the braids around my head, but—”
Mrs. Grant cocked her head like a bright-eyed chickadee. “No, the
“Oh, really. Did he come west to work for Marquis de Mores?”
Amethyst considered whether or not to speak of the details. Mrs. Grant seemed truly interested, and Amethyst was enjoying the conversation…. Why not, she’d never see the woman again. “Hardly. He’s only eight. You see, my sister-in-law, my dead brother’s wife, left their son off with someone we didn’t know, who took Joel west. My father insists that since the boy is his only living heir, he should come back to the home farm.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Well, aren’t you a living relative?”
“Since women are not allowed to own land, he wants Joel back.”
“Pardon me, I wouldn’t want to gainsay your father, but times and laws are changing. I own property in Chicago, and I also own the farm of my grandfather. I bought it from a—and I quote—‘legal heir’ who was letting it run to ruin. My second son is in charge of the farming; my eldest son is a lawyer. It is my third son whom I’m going to visit.”
“Have you no daughters?”
“Alas, not that survived infancy. But I am blessed with daughters-in-law, one of whom usually travels with me, but this time she is indisposed.” She leaned closer with a chuckle. “What an idiotic term for pregnant. They say men usually have a case of the wanderlust, but in our family, it is I.”
Amethyst could not help but smile back. Never had she met someone like this Mrs. Grant. But then, never before had she done many of the things she was now doing.
“Go ahead. I can tell you are dying to ask me something.”
“Your husband, is he…I mean…?”
“Mr. Grant died, I believe from overwork, some ten years ago. But he had the wisdom and foresight to make certain that I would inherit all of our businesses and assets. Some of our friends were shocked, but our sons feel as I do. If a woman has the intelligence and the education, she should be allowed to do whatever she is able. And we women are far smarter, wiser, and more capable than most men give us credit for.”
Amethyst thought back to how hard she worked on the farm and how she sold the surplus, yet her father had the final say in all things. She was no more than a hired hand, one who received no pay.
Mrs. Grant smiled sweetly, as if the words she’d uttered were not even seditious. “Don’t you agree with me? You look like an extremely capable woman, and if you’ve had any schooling…” She paused, waiting for an answer.
“Thanks to my mother, who insisted—against my father’s wishes—I attended our local schoolhouse through the eighth grade. He thought six years of not helping all day, every day, were enough.” Actually, he’d resented any of his children going to school at all but knew his sons had to have schooling if they were to better themselves and, hopefully, help provide for their pa.
“Ah, your mother is a wise woman.”
“Was. She died five years ago, and there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think of her, her sayings, how hard she worked and yet managed to have a song and a smile.” Amethyst thought to the coins in her hem, the Bible that weighted her carpetbag, and the small gown, so lovingly stitched and embroidered. “So many gifts she managed to give me.”
“And do you take after her?”
Amethyst thought for a bit. “You know, I never thought about it, but I guess that I do.”
“Why don’t you come sit over here by me, and it will be easier for us to visit? I knew there was a reason I chose these double seats.”
Surprising herself, Amethyst pulled her carpetbags out from under the seat and, one at a time, shoved them under the other. By the time she finished, her hat hung down over her ear and her hair had won and cascaded down her back. She rolled her eyes, settling herself in the seat.
“I should just braid it and wrap the braids around my head, but—”
Mrs. Grant cocked her head like a bright-eyed chickadee. “No, the
Similar Books
The Night Watch
Sarah Waters
Center Stage
Bernadette Marie
Behind the Yellow Tape: On the Road With Some of America's Hardest Working Crime Scene Investigators
Jarrett Hallcox, Amy Welch
Revenge
David Pilling
A Dose of Murder
Lori Avocato
Revenge of the Geek
Piper Banks
Natalie Acres
Sex Retreat [Cowboy Sex 6]
Saved by the SEAL
Diana Gardin
Longarm and "Kid" Bodie (9781101622001)
Tabor Evans