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Updated: May 23, 2025
The loafers stared boldly at Virginia Aydelot as she rode up before the livery stable and slipped from her saddle. Not because a woman in a calico dress and sunbonnet, a tanned, brown-handed woman, was a novelty there, but because the license of the place was one of impudence and disrespect. The saloon was on one side of the livery stable and the postoffice was on the other side.
"Sit down, Asher," she said, and Asher dropped to his place on the step. "We don't seem to see life through the same spectacles," he said calmly. "Am I wrong, mother? Nobody can choose my life for me, nor my wife, either. Didn't old grandfather, Jean Aydelot, leave his home in France, and didn't grandmother, Mercy Pennington, marry to suit her own choice?"
"I wish you had a wife." "Well, they are something of an anxiety, too. Hustle home ahead of the storm. I've always wished that bluff at the deep bend didn't hide us from each other's sight. I'd like to blast it out." Asher Aydelot hurried northward ahead of the hot winds and deepening shadows of the coming storm. And all the time, in spite of Jim's comforting words, an anxiety grew and grew.
Aydelot could not leave him, so I started to Carey's Crossing to see if you could come to him. I missed the trail somewhere. I was trying to help, but I failed, you see." The doctor was looking at her with a puzzled expression which she thought was born of his sympathy. To the mention of her failing he responded quickly: "No, Mrs. Aydelot, you succeeded.
The old Aydelot farmhouse was as neat and white, with gardens and flower beds as well kept, as if only a day had passed since the master and mistress thereof had gone out to their last earthly home in the Cloverdale graveyard. Fifteen years had seen the frontier pushed westward with magic swiftness.
But any woman who bundles up for a horseback ride across the plains on a day like this isn't out for a beauty show contest. I've seen eyes like that before, though, and as to her voice " "I am Mrs. Asher Aydelot from the Grass River Valley," Virginia went on. "There are only three settlers out there now, Mr. Shirley and my husband and myself. Mr. Shirley is very sick with pneumonia, and Mr.
Thaine Aydelot looked like a gypsy beside her, he was so brown, and his big dark eyes and heavy mane of dark hair, and ruddy cheeks made the contrast striking. From the first day of their meeting, the children were playmates and companions as often as opportunity offered.
Serves her right, for Asher's pile went into the dump, although there's naturally no love lost between the two. But this Miss Jane is Aydelot clear through. She's so honest and darned set you can't budge her. But she's a timid woman and so she's safe if you keep out of her range. She won't chase you far, but she's got fourteen rattles and a button."
"Leigh is a leech when she has the chance," Jo said jokingly, as the two sat in the Aydelot buggy at last. When one has grown up from babyhood the ruling spirit in a neighborhood, her opinions are to be accepted. Thaine gave Jo a quick look but said nothing. "By the way, papa says Jim isn't very well this summer. Says he still grieves over the farm he lost.
Yet with the same old Aydelot tenacity with which his father had held Cloverdale in Ohio away from the old farm beside the National pike road, the son of this father held the boundary of the Sunflower Ranch intact, nor yielded up one acre to be platted into a suburban addition to the new Cloverdale in the Grass River Valley in Kansas.
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