Gardenia Transplanted

By Faye C Fuller and Dwain G Fuller

Gardenia Transplanted is a carefully researched historical novel that tells the compelling story of an Alabama Southern belle, Lorinda Parker, who falls in love with a handsome young farmer struggling to survive along with his sister, Kate, in the harsh Texas Panhandle in the late 1800s. Both brother and sister have a troubled past that

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dwain Fuller
• Release date: May 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781088197134

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

It was late spring in the year of 1895. The Panhandle skies were clear, but a chill wind was blowing. Across the green prairies rode a man on horseback, the collar of his coat turned up to meet the wide brim of his hat. As he loped along, carrying in one hand a heavy axe, he scanned the prairies closely. After some moments, he drew rein and motioned to the driver of the wagon some distance away to come to him. By the time the wagon got there, he had a large buffalo skeleton broken up and ready to toss over the high sideboards. Then he loped off again, in search of other skeletons.

The driver of the wagon, a slender woman in a blue-checked sunbonnet and long stocking gloves, turned to survey the skeleton as she rattled across the prairies in her high wheel wagon after deciding that the horns were of sufficient size to be used in making a hat rack. The smaller bones could be used to make fertilizer, buttons, and bone china. Seeing that the man was waving again, she slapped her mules with the reins and rattled on, the narrow-tired wheels marking out a dim trail across the lush prairie grass.

After working for some hours, the man finished piling the vehicle high with wolf-gnawed skeletons and then turned homeward, the wagon bumping along beside him.

Kate, the man said after minutes of sober reflection, I wish you would reconsider and come live with Lorinda and me. You know I can’t leave you in the dugout alone, and we fixed up a real nice room in the sod house.

I’ll never do it, the woman replied with finality. You’re marrying a parasite, and that sort of people don’t suit me.

Just what reason have you for calling Lorinda a parasite? the man asked kindly.

As her stockinged hands caught up the reins more firmly, Kate Krighton turned to her brother, Kirk, and replied heatedly, You answer my question, and then I’ll answer yours. How could a preacher’s daughter from Alabama be anything but a parasite? What does she know about gathering cow chips, building fires, and hauling water? Exactly nothing! She’s been waited on hand and foot by a bunch of Negroes all of her life, and all she knows is how to dress up and look pretty.

She could learn, Kate, Kirk said pleadingly, if you’ll teach her. Things are beginning to look up in the Panhandle now, and I’m going to farm part of my section besides running cattle, and I’ll farm yours, too, if you’ll let me.

You won’t have time to farm your own land, much less mine, with that society woman to wait on, Kate retorted. For my part, I wish she would have stayed in Alabama where she belongs instead of coming out here to visit her uncle. She would be better off, and you would be too.

You will come to the wedding, won’t you, Kate? Kirk asked.

No, I won’t, Kate retorted hotly. I don’t approve of that woman, and I’m not going to pretend that I do. You are my brother, Kirk, and there are not many things I wouldn’t do for you. But witnessing your marriage to that woman happens to be one of them. I’ll fix lunch for you before the wedding, then cook supper for the two of you after the ceremony—which does not mean that I approve of this wedding. Both of you come to the dugout when the ceremony is over, and I’ll have ready the last square meal you’ll get for some time.

Sunday dawned clear and bright and unusually warm for the season. Kate was up early decorating the dirt walls and canvas partition of the long, narrow dugout with branches of cedar. Despite her strong dislike of her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Kate was planning a nice prairie lunch for her brother before he was due at the seldom-used little picket church at 3:00 that afternoon.

Kirk arrived for lunch in his flashy red-wheeled buggy, wearing a trim derby, fashionably cut new suit, boiled shirt, bull-nosed shoes, and high button gaiters. He was a muscular, handsome man, but his suntanned face and calloused hands seemed somehow at odds with his stylish outfit. Kate viewed the impending wedding ceremony as the death of her close partnership with her brother, and there was little conversation during lunch. After the meal was finished, Kirk made one last effort to convince his sister to attend the wedding.

Kate, there’s still time. Why don’t you comb your hair and jump into the buggy with me? Lorinda is not going to understand why her new sister-in-law is not there for the wedding. Please.

Kate looked directly at her brother and said grimly, I’d rather be going to a funeral than this wedding. You can’t transplant a fancy lady from Alabama into Panhandle dirt and expect anything good to happen.

Kirk shook his head, mounted the buggy, and lifted his whip over the sleek bays. Fighting back tears, Kate forced herself to wave a goodbye. With one hand shading her watering eyes, she watched the progress of the buggy until it was far across the prairie.

Returning to the dugout, she sat down on a nail keg, put her blue-checked apron to her eyes, and wept bitterly. This was the end of everything between her and Kirk. For seven long years, they’d held onto a section of land each, weathering Panhandle blizzards, droughts, marauding grasshoppers, and dust storms. And during most of that time, she had worked hard as a teacher in a little one-room schoolhouse, while Kirk had labored as a cowboy on the Circle X Ranch. Now, just as the drought seemed to be breaking and conditions were looking better, Kirk was dissolving their partnership by taking to his new sod house a bride who was only a parasite and dead weight to be carried for the rest of his life.

Holding on to their land had not been easy, Kate reflected. Both she and Kirk had worked tirelessly, skimping and saving and doing without everything but the barest necessities. After the drought and grasshopper years had befallen the Panhandle, many of the settlers had given up their land and creaked slowly eastward in their dried-out prairie schooners. But she and Kirk had held on by the skin of their teeth by combing the scorched prairies for bleached buffalo bones and selling them for whatever they could get. And when they had been able to save a dollar above survival necessities, they had applied the money to their land, or saved it to buy more cattle when the drought and grasshopper years would finally be over.

After some time, Kate got up and began putting her best white cloth on the little table in the corner made of apple boxes. As she worked, her eyes flashed angrily at the thought of Lorinda’s intrusion into the family. Kate recalled bitterly that Kirk had thought the dugout quite good enough for her, but for Lorinda, he had built a four-room sod house with plaster walls, wooden floors, and a big bay window. For Kate, a span of mules and the highly ungainly wagon which the cowboys called a butcher knife had been quite acceptable. But for Lorinda, Kirk had bought a fancy rubber-tired buggy, complete with a flashy harness decorated with bright celluloid rings, flynets bedecked with gay tassels, and a fancy whip trimmed with bows of ribbon. It would have been so much smarter to have saved that money to buy something useful, Kate reflected unhappily. Well, she would stay in the dugout, work hard, and pay her land out, and if Kirk lost his section through foolish extravagance, there just wasn’t a thing on earth that she could do about it. She certainly was not going to wait on that fancy lady from Alabama, who might flee back to the genteel South after the first bad dust storm or grasshopper swarm.

Just before suppertime, Kirk and his bride drove up. Lorinda was in her wedding dress of snowy white, looking like an angel of a Gibson girl. From the misty veil that framed her dark pompadour, to the mutton-leg sleeves, high neckline, ample bodice, tiny waist, and full skirt, Lorinda’s attire represented the last word in fashion.

Kate, in a practical white blouse and skirt and with her brown hair newly crimped by string curlers, heard the buggy stop but did not move from her place at the bachelor stove where she was stirring gravy. Kirk assisted his bride in alighting and then went on to take care of the team. Lorinda picked up her billowing skirts and tripped daintily down the dirt steps, saying in her pleasing southern accent, Kate, you are a perfect dear to invite us to supper. But why didn’t you come to our wedding? It wasn’t complete without you. We would— Noting her sister-in-law’s sober countenance, she stopped abruptly and asked in alarm, Don’t you feel well, Kate? You look ill.

I’m all right, Kate replied matter-of-factly. Just put your things on the bed in the other room and get ready for supper. Please don’t expect anything too fancy.

Everything looks wonderful! Lorinda said, surveying the small table with the centerpiece of wild buttercups. And there’s fried chicken! I just love it.

It’s prairie chicken, Kate said, dishing gravy.

Chicken! Lorinda exclaimed. Where on earth did you buy it? I shot it in the front yard, Kate replied.

Then Kirk came in, and soon he and Lorinda were seated on a bench at the front of the table, while across from them sat Kate on her brother’s cot, dishing hot biscuits directly from the drum of the small stove. When Kirk picked up the platter of chicken and started to serve his bride, she interrupted him by saying surprisedly, Aren’t you going to pronounce the blessing, dear?

Well, er, er, suppose you do it, Kirk replied, setting the platter down so hard that a drumstick rolled onto the table.

Do you mind, Kate, dear? Lorinda asked.

Not at all, Kate replied, setting down the bowl of gravy.

Then folding her hands on her lap, Lorinda bowed and said reverently, Father, we thank thee for this day and for all that it may hold for us. And we thank thee, too, for this food and for all Thy other blessings. Ever guide us in Thy paths, we ask in Thy name.

As the meal progressed, Lorinda chatted gaily of the sewing machine that her uncle had given her as a wedding gift, of the window curtains and bedspreads and other gifts that had arrived only the day before from Alabama, and of the pretty trees and flowers and shrubs she planned to put out in her new yard.

When it was time for dessert and Kate had started to serve the wedding cake—a tall, white one beautifully decorated with wildflowers—a terrific shower of dirt suddenly descended upon the table, burying the cake and the diners with grit. Kirk rushed outside and discovered that a cow had stepped on one of the cedar poles supporting the sod roof.

That’s all right, Kate, Lorinda said. We don’t need the cake anyway. We’ve eaten too much already. But Kate, after calmly salvaging the interior of the delicacy, found some clean dishes in the orange-box cupboard on the wall and was soon serving her guests salvaged wedding cake and canned wild plums.

When it was time for Kirk and his bride to drive away, Lorinda turned to her sister-in-law and said pleadingly, Come on, Kate. You know we’re not going to leave you here alone. There is ample room in the new house for you.

But Kate, busily cleaning dirt from the table, replied emphatically, No, I’m not going. And then remembering something, she put her cloth down and brought from the other room a neatly finished hat rack made of buffalo horns. This is your wedding gift, she said, handing the rack to Lorinda.

It’s perfectly darling! Lorinda responded. But how could you make it, Kate? You’re just too smart.

As the handsome pair drove away in the deepening twilight, Kate stood outside her humble door watching and waving and swallowing tears as she bade them goodbye. She mused to herself, This should be an interesting wedding night. Kirk may know a lot about breeding cattle, but he will be a complete amateur when it comes to making love to a hyper-religious Southern belle who no doubt is as cold as a block of ice. She probably is convinced that the stork brings babies. Well, at least we won’t have to worry about children any time soon.

A few days later, Kirk began breaking sod, preparatory to planning his first crop of maize. As he was struggling valiantly to hold his plow in the tough soil, he noticed a stranger approaching on horseback. Then, much to Kirk’s alarm, the man alighted, took his Winchester from its scabbard, and began shooting toward Kirk, missing him each time, but stirring up a stifling cloud of dust. Kirk yanked off his big hat and started waving, but the stranger shot the hat right out of his hand. Then dropping down in his newly made furrow, Kirk started crawling, but the man shot again, this time filling his victim’s face with dust. When Kirk could see again, he got fighting mad and ran toward the stranger, shouting, Better hit me this time or you are a dead man! To his surprise, Kirk saw the visitor put down his rifle and start walking toward him, laughingly extending his hand. It was only then that Kirk recognized the gunman as none other than his old friend of cowboy days, Skillet Fenton.

What you mean, shooting at me? Kirk asked bewilderedly. Well, you told me to, didn’t you? the visitor replied smilingly. Not that I remember, Kirk said.

Leaning his tall, spare frame on his gun and pushing his big hat back, Skillet said, Recollect that day way back in ‘88 when you and me was a drivin’ cattle and seen some feller with a wash pan with holes in it a plantin’ something in a little spot he’d plowed up right on the bald prairie. You said, ‘Reckon what that nesters plantin’?’ And I said, a squinting my eyes and looking carefully, ‘Dunno, unless it’s roses.’ And we both laughed. And then you said, ‘If you ever catch me a following a plow, I want you to take a crack at me with your gun.’ ‘I sure will,’ I said. And the same goes for me if you ever catch me a chasing a plow.

Yes, I remember now, Kirk said. I didn’t know then that this country was good for anything but grazing cattle. But we found out now that it will grow good crops. Quite a lot of farmers are coming in since the drought broke. It’s too bad, Skillet, that you gave your section away. It would bring good money before long.

I didn’t give my land away, Skillet corrected. I got this pair of pants for it, and I figured that trading the section of grasshoppers for a pair of pants was a pretty good deal. Course, I did sort of hate to cheat the feller, though.

When did you get back from East Texas? Kirk asked, looking at his watch and starting to unhitch his team.

Yesterday, Skillet replied. Got fed up a living down in the Pan and figured that I better get back to the Handle where the breezes blow. I come by the dugout while ago and Kate told me you’d done got married and left her all by herself.

I didn’t leave her willingly, Kirk replied. I built a nice room for her in our sod house, but she won’t live with us.

Know where I can find a job a punching cattle? Skillet asked, returning his gun to the scabbard.

Sure, Kirk replied in sudden inspiration. I need a good man to help me since I’m farming and also running cattle. You take charge of the cattle, and we’ll divide the profits.

Okay, Skillet replied, reins in hand and starting to mount. If I can find some place to live.

You go into dinner with me, Kirk said, and maybe we can work something out.

They headed toward the new sod house with Kirk driving his team and Skillet walking beside him leading his horse. Kirk said suddenly, I have it! You talk Kate into living with us, and you can have the dugout.

Found out this morning that won’t be no easy job, Skillet replied, shaking his head dubiously. But if I get a good chance, I might give it a whirl.

While having dinner with the newlyweds, Skillet, noting the dainty fare, conceived of an idea that he thought might be helpful to him in securing the dugout.

On the following Sunday afternoon, Skillet rode up to the dugout and called casually, Hey, Kate, come on out. Let’s ride over to the sod house. Supposed to make one of them calls on newlyweds, ain’t ye?

On the way over, Kate, on her sidesaddle and with a little breeze lifting her bonnet strings, told Skillet with many lamentations of Kirk’s instant infatuation with Lorinda and of how he’d thrown discretion to the winds and spent his hard-earned money to build a sod house, buy furniture, and pay for the fancy team and buggy.

But Kate, Skillet remonstrated, a sod house don’t cost nothing hardly. You just plow some deep furrows in the prairie grass, cut some blocks from ’em, stack ’em up, and build a house. That’s about all there is to it.

But Kirk put in a lot of extras, Kate insisted, like a big bay window in the parlor, muslin over the ceilings to keep the dirt out, and plaster on the walls.

You know, Kate, that it costs very little to plaster walls, Skillet said. You just get some gyp rock from the canyon, pound it up real fine, and mix it with water, and you’ve got plaster good enough for anybody.

And it seems to me, Kate continued, that Kirk had better have bought some farming machinery and some more work mules rather than that fancy team and buggy since he plans to do farming.

Them horses will be work horses all right before Kirk gets through with ’em, Skillet said. Kirk ain’t one to let horses loaf around and do nothing but pull a fancy buggy. Come to think of it, Skillet continued, Kirk had a lot of money saved up besides what he paid on his land. I recollect that when the rest of the cowboys used to go to Mobeetie on Saturday nights to shoot the town up, Kirk just stayed home and counted his money.

When they reached the sod house, Lorinda, in a beautiful blue afternoon dress, long brown hair perfectly coiffed, greeted them warmly. Do come in, she said. How did you know that we were so lonely? Sunday just never seems like Sunday out here since we don’t go to church.

Then Lorinda took Kate and Skillet through the house, showing them a hand-crocheted bedspread made by her grandmother, pretty rugs, ruffled curtains, and a yucca plant blooming in a pot in her bay window. By the time they finished the inspection, Kate could not help admitting begrudgingly to herself that the house with its books, magazines, pictures, and shiny new furniture was a major improvement over the dugout that she and Kirk had shared for several years.

However, she did not like the fact that her new sister-in-law seemed to be making a good adjustment to her new life.

Gardenias will soon be blooming at home now, Lorinda said, seating herself by Kate on the sofa. When I told Kirk how much I miss them out here, he said, ‘Well, our yuccas about the best substitute I know of.’ And he brought that one in for me. I think it’s perfectly beautiful.

And when I gave it to her, Kirk explained laughingly, she said, ‘It’s lovely!’ And then she added, ‘But if it were only a gardenia—well it would be just glorious. That’s the only word to describe them.’ They all laughed, and Lorinda said, I really do miss my gardenias. If only there were a way to make them grow out here on the prairie.

Then Skillet, referring to the potted yucca, said, I never figured that no tumbleweed could ever be anything but a pesky nuisance, but that little un in that vase o’ yours looks downright purty. Then Lorinda told them that she had written home for some southern shrubs and flowers and trees to plant in her yard.

There ain’t no use, Skillet said, ’less you fence in the yard. Kirk’s cattle sure would fancy them Alabama shrubs for a change in diet. And even if you did put up a fence, the first Panhandle blizzard will get ’em all for sure.

Kate sat silently listening to Lorinda’s naive plans to fill her brown prairie yard with delicate southern plants. She did not like the fact that this woman had not yet realized that she had no chance to survive so far away from her privileged life in Alabama. Then she had a devilishly clever idea.

Boy, this house that Kirk built for Lorinda is really beautiful. It is amazing what can be done with sod and plaster. I noticed that Kirk even made a sod outhouse. Which reminds me that Lula Bell is still mighty sick.

What happened to the poor dear? Lorinda asked with great concern. We probably should pray for her healing.

Kirk quickly interrupted. I don’t think that Lorinda wants to hear the details of the injury.

Oh, but I do, dear. I will be able to pray better for the sick woman.

Kate smiled to herself and continued. Lula Bell went out in the middle of the night to use the outhouse and a rattlesnake bit her on the behind. I will spare you further details. She is very lucky to be alive.

Oh, how dreadful! Lorinda said as she paled visibly.

Kirk quickly said, There are no snakes around here, Lorinda. I check every day. You do not need to worry. He then gave his sister an unhappy look. Kate kept a grave look on her face but was inwardly laughing. Maybe the fear of snakes will shorten this woman’s unwanted intrusion into our lives.

Lorinda was eager to steer the conversation away from snakes. She walked across the room and produced a hymn book and suggested that they sing together. After several hymns had been sung, Lorinda brought out a silver tray containing tiny sandwiches, dainty cookies, and a small silver pot of coffee. She served Kate first and then Skillet.

No sooner had Skillet been served than he dropped his tiny spoon under the couch. In trying to retrieve it, he toppled the contents of his small cup onto Lorinda’s new rug. Sitting on the couch with his knees almost touching his chin, Skillet shuffled his boots a bit and said, Sorry, ma’am, to dirty up your rug, but I just ain’t used to handling such dainty contraptions.

That’s all right, Lorinda responded, handing him another cup. Then turning to Kirk she said, Please bring a cup towel, dear.

As they all sat talking and Kirk kept passing the sandwiches and cookies and pouring more coffee, a knock on the door announced the arrival of a cowboy who had been thrown from his horse and wanted Lorinda to bandage his arm. While Lorinda was getting clean cloths and turpentine, Kate took advantage of the opportunity to bring Skillet a large tin cup filled with steaming coffee and to pour one for herself. Kirk, however, insisted on retaining his dainty cup, handling it studiously as he talked of the sod plowing, the increase in his herd of cattle, and the newcomers who were arriving in the area almost daily.

On their way back to the dugout late in the afternoon, Kate remarked to Skillet acidly, Did you ever before in your life hear of such nonsense as bringing in yucca and prickly pears and tumbleweeds and putting them in pots when the prairies are literally covered with them? And where on earth does she think she’ll get water for them? I suppose she fancies there’s a little spring bubbling just outside her back door. And all those ruffled curtains and fancy bedspreads! What does she think they’ll look like after the first dust storm hits them?

Then Kate laughed and said, Did you see Lorinda’s face when I told her about Lula Bell and the snake in the outhouse? I thought she was about to throw up and announce that she was packing to head back to Alabama on the first stagecoach. I’ll find a way to mention the Lula Bell tragedy again at an appropriate time in the future and embellish the tale just a bit.

You’d better be a worrying more about what your brother’s gonna eat than his wife’s fancy furnishings and indoor prairie plants, Skillet replied solemnly. Not enough bread in one of them sandwiches for one good bite, and not enough coffee in one of them thimbles for one good swaller.’

No, Kate said thoughtfully. I’m worried to death about Kirk’s health. He works so hard plowing sod, digging post holes, and putting up fences. He really needs something substantial to eat, not a bunch of teatime tidbits. But since Lorinda has been brought up in the South where she had lots of people to wait on her, she has no idea about how to fix a decent meal. I don’t suppose she could cook a pot of brown beans, make a pan of biscuits, or fry a decent steak if her life depended on it. All she knows how to do is to fix a few fancy sandwiches and cookies. On meals like that, a working man might starve to death!

You ain’t gonna let your only brother starve to death, are you, Kate? Skillet asked with a grave look on his face.

No, I am not, Kate replied heatedly. I’m going over there and cook something fit to eat, and you can have the dugout. But the first thing I’m going to do when I get there is to take all of that fancy, ruffled foolishness out of my room and put in something practical.

CHAPTER TWO

Kate somewhat reluctantly moved to the sod house and took over the cooking, cleaning, laundry, bringing in cow chips, and hauling water. Lorinda was delighted to be relieved of most of the chores and went about the house singing, salvaging what water she could for her potted plants, and putting out flowers, shrubs, and trees in the yard. She would often sit at the kitchen table pouring over various magazines that came by mail for the latest styles in clothes. Lorinda proved to be an excellent seamstress and sewed for herself and Kate, too, when Kate would let her.

One afternoon Lorinda was feeling particularly lonely and donned a sheer black dress, picture hat, gloves, and slippers and accompanied Kirk to the pasture, where she sat on a blanket on the prairie grass crocheting while he dug post holes. The day was sunny and pleasant, but a sudden wind whipped across the prairie, the sky darkened ominously, and a barrage of hail and sheets of rain descended.

A huge bolt of lightning struck the ground nearby, followed by a boom of thunder that reverberated. Kirk grabbed Lorinda and started running for the house just as there was another close lightning strike and deafening crash of thunder. Lorinda’s parasol was whipped from her hand and sent skidding across the prairie.

I lost one of my slippers! Lorinda gasped. I need to go back and find it! Kirk picked her up and sprinted toward the house, which could barely be seen in the wind-blown sheets of rain.

Once inside the safety of the house, Lorinda began to cry and shiver. All my pretty clothes are ruined! she lamented. Kirk tried to console her by saying, We can always buy new clothes, honey. Kate entered the room and took the weeping Lorinda’s hand like a small child and led her toward the bedroom. You can dry off and change. Everything will be all right. But Kate thought to herself, What kind of fool would wear Sunday clothes out to the field to crochet?

When Skillet loped in from riding herd, water pouring from the brim of his big hat to the shoulders of his yellow slicker, he found an unhappy Kate in the kitchen.

Where are Kirk and Lorinda? Weren’t they both out in the field when the storm blew up? Skillet asked. It’s still blowin’ and pourin’ down rain out there.

"They both made it back to the house safely, but Lorinda was weeping about her silly clothes. The lightning could have killed them both. And it would’ve served Lorinda right if it did knock her down. Maybe it’d jar some sense into her head.

I swear, whenever the Lord makes a really pretty woman, He seems to automatically short them on brains. Kirk’s not here since he grabbed a rain slicker and headed back out to check on one of the new calves.

She’s harmless, Kate, Skillet said, standing by the cook stove, drying his trouser legs. And she will learn if you give her time.

No, Skillet, Kate replied despairingly. Some people never learn.

The storm finally blew over, and all were safe inside the sod home, which miraculously had only a few minor leaks that Kirk would address before rain came again. Kate served a supper of brown beans, dried beef, and cornbread for Kirk, Lorinda, and Skillet. Lorinda picked at her food; she was strangely silent and seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts.

Man, that was some storm! Skillet said as the four of them sat at the table drinking coffee after the dinner meal. A huge bolt of lightning hit one of ’em heifers and knocked her down, but as best I could see in the rain, she stood up all wobbly and may be all right.

Are storms like this common in the Panhandle? Lorinda asked. I have never seen such lightning and thunder in my life.

Ma’am, they are often much worse than this in the spring, replied Skillet. And that time of year you gotta worry about tornadoes. Good thing Kirk had a storm cellar dug out when he built this sod house. You know what people say up here in the Pan, ‘If you don’t like the weather, just wait fifteen minutes.’

A few days later, Lorinda mentioned to Kate that Skillet had told her of a cowboy named Gerald Patwin who worked on the Circle X Ranch and whose father was a minister in Tennessee. Lorinda asked Kate if she would please drive her over to ask the cowboy if he would be willing to conduct church services in the sod house each Sunday.

I wish Skillet would mind his own business, Kate thought angrily as she hitched up the new buggy.

When they reached the Circle X, they found Gerald Patwin busily riding herd, and Kate could not help noticing that Gerald was the envy of all the other cowboys when it became known that Kirk Krighton’s beautiful wife had come to talk with him.

Well, ma’am, Gerald replied self-consciously, his big hat in one hand, bridle reins in the other, and digging a boot heel into the prairie sod. Just because my father’s a preacher, that don’t make me one.

But, Lorinda pleaded with him, you could read a few passages of Scripture and make a short talk. People out here live in such a hurry. They don’t know what God can mean to them; but you and I know. Haven’t you heard your father quote that beautiful passage of Scripture found in Isaiah 40:31? It says, ‘They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.’

No ma’am, I can’t rightly say I remember hearing him quote it, Gerald replied confusedly.

That was one of my father’s favorite passages, Lorinda said. And I’ve heard Brother Jimes, our minister at home, quote it often, too. That message is so needed out here where people don’t seem to have any time for God.

Then Lorinda pleaded with Gerald once again to read a few passages of Scripture each Sunday and not try to make a talk. But Gerald politely refused, saying, I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m just not able.

Seeing that she was making no headway with her idea, Lorinda concluded by saying that if Gerald had faith enough, he would be able. And she referred him to another of Brother Jimes’ favorite passages found in Mark 9:23: Jesus said to him if thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.

Gerald looked down in the dirt at his boots and slowly shook his head.

On the way home, Lorinda told Kate that she had never dreamed that she