pickles were something they purchased from the shelves of the local grocer, never sweated over in the kitchen.
Her gaze rested once again on the weathered Bible with its thin pages. Her father had often read to her from the Psalms and other books of the Bible, but she didn’t remember this particular one and its pronouncement that the Word of God was far more precious than gold. An interesting comparison, considering her own quest. While the thought was convicting, and she believed it to be true, her desire to track down the missing government gold had only intensified. Surely God would overlook her search for earthly treasures if He knew that her motives were in the right place.
How she was going to find the gold, though, was proving to be more difficult than she’d first imagined. Even now, she debated whether or not she should borrow the wagon this morning and pay a call on Mr. Martin. Not only did she worry about shirking her duties with the Carpenters, but obviously, a single woman such as herself paying a visit to a man she didn’t know would never be considered appropriate. She wondered what Aunt Rachel would have done. There had to be a way to achieve her objective without tarnishing her reputation.
She pulled her copy of Harper’s Bazar out from under the edge of the serpentine-back sofa, determined to work on a plan as she flipped through the pages. While she’d read the magazine from cover to cover at least a dozen times on the trip here, she never tired of looking at the latest fashions. Skirts of pink coral trimmed with matching flounces and pink roses for the hair. Fawn colored silk parasol, and a gorgeous lilac silk walking suit with a violet tunic.
Tara turned another page, stopping at a drawing of a beautiful parlor set made of black walnut and a contrasting trim. She read through the description of the grand room with its bold Chinese red walls. Included in the drawing was an Italian inlaid table with matching mirror, heavy curtains, and even a sidewall arrangement of shelves where daguerreotypes and prints were elegantly displayed.
She eyed the Carpenters’ old-fashioned sitting room with its worn fabrics and out-of-date furnishings and wondered if Mrs. Carpenter would be opposed to a few minor alterations of the room. A bit of paint, stylish fabric, and rearranging of the furniture would do wonders for the room’s mood. And it would certainly beat the pickling process.
Tara looked up at the sound of Mr. Carpenter’s booted footsteps on the wooden floor. He stopped at the doorway and nodded in the direction of his wife. “She often falls asleep this time of morning if she didn’t rest well at night, but she couldn’t wait for you to read to her. Like mine, her eyes aren’t strong anymore, and she has been missing her daily devotionals from the Word of God.”
“I’m glad she enjoyed it.”
Tara smiled, surprised at the feeling of contentment that washed over her. Though not quite as laborious as making pickles, reading aloud wasn’t her favorite pastime. Knowing Mrs. Carpenter enjoyed hearing her read from the Bible shed a different light on things. While Tara had come to enjoy her years of education, it hadn’t given her the chance to feel as though she were making a difference in anyone’s life. And she liked the feeling.
“Why don’t you go take a rest yourself?” Mr. Carpenter picked up a newspaper from his rocker and folded it under his arm before leaving the room. “You must be tired. With the pickles soaking and lunch simmering on the stove, I don’t suppose there is anything else for you to do right now.”
“I’m fine, really. I thought I would just read a bit.”
He paused in the doorway. “It’s a shame for you to have to stay cooped up inside. It’s such a lovely day, but after your experience in town yesterday, me and the missus are a bit concerned about your safety. Granted, such a barrage of gunfire isn’t a common occurrence, but all the same. .
Her gaze rested once again on the weathered Bible with its thin pages. Her father had often read to her from the Psalms and other books of the Bible, but she didn’t remember this particular one and its pronouncement that the Word of God was far more precious than gold. An interesting comparison, considering her own quest. While the thought was convicting, and she believed it to be true, her desire to track down the missing government gold had only intensified. Surely God would overlook her search for earthly treasures if He knew that her motives were in the right place.
How she was going to find the gold, though, was proving to be more difficult than she’d first imagined. Even now, she debated whether or not she should borrow the wagon this morning and pay a call on Mr. Martin. Not only did she worry about shirking her duties with the Carpenters, but obviously, a single woman such as herself paying a visit to a man she didn’t know would never be considered appropriate. She wondered what Aunt Rachel would have done. There had to be a way to achieve her objective without tarnishing her reputation.
She pulled her copy of Harper’s Bazar out from under the edge of the serpentine-back sofa, determined to work on a plan as she flipped through the pages. While she’d read the magazine from cover to cover at least a dozen times on the trip here, she never tired of looking at the latest fashions. Skirts of pink coral trimmed with matching flounces and pink roses for the hair. Fawn colored silk parasol, and a gorgeous lilac silk walking suit with a violet tunic.
Tara turned another page, stopping at a drawing of a beautiful parlor set made of black walnut and a contrasting trim. She read through the description of the grand room with its bold Chinese red walls. Included in the drawing was an Italian inlaid table with matching mirror, heavy curtains, and even a sidewall arrangement of shelves where daguerreotypes and prints were elegantly displayed.
She eyed the Carpenters’ old-fashioned sitting room with its worn fabrics and out-of-date furnishings and wondered if Mrs. Carpenter would be opposed to a few minor alterations of the room. A bit of paint, stylish fabric, and rearranging of the furniture would do wonders for the room’s mood. And it would certainly beat the pickling process.
Tara looked up at the sound of Mr. Carpenter’s booted footsteps on the wooden floor. He stopped at the doorway and nodded in the direction of his wife. “She often falls asleep this time of morning if she didn’t rest well at night, but she couldn’t wait for you to read to her. Like mine, her eyes aren’t strong anymore, and she has been missing her daily devotionals from the Word of God.”
“I’m glad she enjoyed it.”
Tara smiled, surprised at the feeling of contentment that washed over her. Though not quite as laborious as making pickles, reading aloud wasn’t her favorite pastime. Knowing Mrs. Carpenter enjoyed hearing her read from the Bible shed a different light on things. While Tara had come to enjoy her years of education, it hadn’t given her the chance to feel as though she were making a difference in anyone’s life. And she liked the feeling.
“Why don’t you go take a rest yourself?” Mr. Carpenter picked up a newspaper from his rocker and folded it under his arm before leaving the room. “You must be tired. With the pickles soaking and lunch simmering on the stove, I don’t suppose there is anything else for you to do right now.”
“I’m fine, really. I thought I would just read a bit.”
He paused in the doorway. “It’s a shame for you to have to stay cooped up inside. It’s such a lovely day, but after your experience in town yesterday, me and the missus are a bit concerned about your safety. Granted, such a barrage of gunfire isn’t a common occurrence, but all the same. .
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