“So what is it you wanted to talk about?” he asked as he worked the buttons.
“No details yet. But I’m going to make an announcement tonight. It’s something I’ve thought about long and hard. I don’t know how Mother and Dad will take it. But it would help to know that you’ll support me.”
“And you won’t tell me what you’re going to say?”
“You’ll know soon enough. So can I count on you?”
“Why should I say yes when I don’t even know what you’re thinking?”
She nudged his ribs. “Because you’re my big brother. That’s why.”
He laughed. “I guess you’ve got me there. Come on, let’s go inside.”
* * *
Even for her own small family, Sarah Foxworth Dollarhide liked to set an attractive dinner table—the good china and silver plate, white linen tablecloth and napkins, and even a small vase of wildflowers. And she’d drilled her children on proper etiquette. “I want to be sure that you can eat with anyone—even the president—and not embarrass yourself,” she was fond of saying.
The years had been kind to his mother, Blake reflected as he viewed her across the table. Her light brown hair, worn in a simple bun, was touched with silver at the temples. Her calm violet eyes were creased at the corners. Her energetic body was only a little stouter than he remembered from her younger days.
Sarah and her husband were close to the same age. But Joe Dollarhide’s face had been weathered by sun and wind. His hair was iron gray, and he’d walked with a cane since last spring, when a fall from an unruly stallion had broken a bone in his leg. But the fire still burned in his fierce, blue eyes.
“Did you see Mason at the dance?” Joe always asked about his other son. Growing up, Mason had spent days on end with his father’s family. But Mason had moved on. These days he rarely came by the house.
Blake dished up a mound of mashed potatoes and drowned it in gravy. “I did see Mason. We rode to the fire in his buggy and had a drink in the saloon afterward. Doyle Petit came by. He plans to start selling lumber in town. When he asked me for a discount, I almost laughed in his face.”
“I never thought much of Doyle. His father was a good man, but Doyle’s selling the ranch must have him turning over in his grave.” Joe paused to survey his family around the table. One chair was empty. Blake knew that the sight of it pained his father. Still, Joe had insisted that the chair be kept waiting in case Mason dropped by. “Anything new with Mason? Any plans?” he asked.
“Not that he mentioned. He’s just helping his mother run the ranch.” As if Amelia needed help with anything.
“We saw the smoke,” Sarah said, changing the subject. “How bad was the fire?”
“We got to it before it spread out of control. But it burned a sodbuster’s shack and most of his wheat field. I’m pretty sure the fire was set. And I’ve got a good idea who set it. I had a run-in with Hobie Evans and the Carmody brothers at the dance. They were looking for trouble. After I stopped them from beating up a homesteader and fired both the Carmodys for it, I’m guessing they lit out to make more mischief.”
“You fired the Carmodys?” Joe speared a slice of roast beef. “Too bad. Good workers are hard to come by. Now you’ll be shorthanded.”
“I know. But they were always grumbling. They’d have made trouble sooner or later.” Blake glanced at Kristin, wondering if she was waiting for a chance to speak. She gave him a slight shake of her head.
“I have a suggestion for you,” Joe said. “Those immigrant farmers are strong and ambitious. Some of them might even have skills you could use, like carpentry. And I’m guessing they could all use extra money. If you let them know you’re hiring, you might find some good workers.”
“I’d have to make sure they could get along with the men I’ve already hired. But that’s not a bad idea,” Blake said. “I’ll give it some thought.” He’d be going out among the wheat fields tomorrow to deliver that load of scrap wood. Maybe the man who’d lost his house and field would be interested in a job.
In the brief silence, Kristin cleared her throat. “Listen, everyone, I have an announcement to make.”
“We’re all ears, honey,” her father said. “As long as you’re not planning to run off with some snake oil salesman.”
“Believe me, that’s the last thing on my mind.” She turned toward her mother. “Mom, I know the story of how you almost got to be a doctor, but then you couldn’t go to medical school because you were going to have Blake.”
“Then you know I’ve never been sorry,” Sarah said. “Being a mother has been the best thing that ever happened to me—that, and marrying your father.”
“But you had a dream, and no matter how hard you worked to make it come true, it never did. I have the same dream. And nothing’s going to stop me from making it happen. I want to become a doctor.”
There was silence around the table. Blake suppressed the urge to break into applause. Kristin was smart and ambitious. She deserved to spread her wings and make something of her life. But what would her parents say?
Looking at his father, Blake could imagine what Joe might be thinking. Years ago, he’d met a young girl with a dream. He’d fallen in love with her. And that love—the love that created his son—had destroyed her dream forever.
How could he deny his daughter the same dream, even if it meant losing her?
It was Sarah who finally spoke. “You couldn’t do that here. Where would you go? Have you thought about it?”
“I know you’ve still got family in Kansas,” Kristin said. “You’ve mentioned a cousin who’s a college professor. If I could stay with his family and go to school for my premed training, that would be perfect. I could keep house for my room and board, or even get a part-time job to help out with expenses. Or I could find some other way. I only know that whatever happens, whatever I have to do, I’m not giving up.”
Sarah’s gaze met her husband’s. Slowly, with a look of sadness, he nodded. “Very well, I’ll write to my cousin,” she said. “The worst he can do is say no. But all this is going to take time, Kristin. The application process and other arrangements could take months. There’s no way you’ll be able to start school this fall. Maybe by winter semester, or more likely spring, everything will be in place, and then only if all goes well. But at least you’ll have time to make sure it’s what you want.”
“I’m already sure,” she said. “Time isn’t going to change my mind.”
“Well, all right then,” Joe said. “But I can already feel how much I’m going to miss you.”
Eyes sparkling, she glanced around the table. “You mean you aren’t going to try to talk sense into me?”
“Kristin,” her mother said, “if this is what you really want, trying to talk you out of it would be a waste of breath. But know that this will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. We’ll support you any way we can, but in the end, it will be up to you.”
“And what do you have to say about my decision, big brother?” she asked.