My Hands Hold My Story (Rough Draft)

Chapter Twelve

My fingers trembled when I dressed the next morning. When I'd gone to bed, it had been impossible to miss how Cordelia and Father argued over by the fireplace. I could only hope that my stepmother hadn't convinced Father that my going to church was a bad idea.

Breakfast had an air of tension as we all ate. Cordelia encouraged everyone to eat quickly, no doubt so there would be time for the dishes to be done before we left. Susan, still sleepy, earned a swat to the back of the head for taking too long. My stepmother used the time to pack food into a basket.

I was the first one to climb into the back of the wagon, and Simon laughed at my eagerness. He, as he had every other Sunday, chose to ride his horse instead of joining the rest of the family. That was something I'd noticed as of late. Though Simon was friendly with his step siblings, and affectionate with Kate and Sam, he kept a distance from them whenever he could.

Maybe it was just his personality to keep others at bay, and he didn't resent my arrival as I'd thought at first.

As most of the days had been since I'd arrived, it was sunny out. Simon and Remy rode ahead of the wagon. To my surprise, Katie insisted on using my lap as her seat, screaming when her sister tried to take her away. She spent the entire drive tracing the embroidery on my skirt. Anna kept glancing at us, open jealousy on her face.

I made a mental tally. With Susan tolerating me, Katie enamoured with my dress, Simon amused by me, and Sam too little to really have an opinion, I had made a start at winning over my family. Of course, that left the hardest members of the family for me to work out how not to be on their bad side.

How hard could it be?

There were only a few people I actually recognized in the church yard when Father brought the wagon to a halt. Unfortunately, one of them was the strange man who'd been so eager to meet me the last time I had been to church: John Dover. He came towards the wagon, pulling his hat off.

Stepping in front of the man, Remy reached up to help me down. Looking over Remy's shoulder, I saw Dover scowl, but in the next moment he had a smile on his face. If there was anything I knew not to trust, it was a person who could change his expression so fast.

Putting a polite smile on my life, I gave Mr. Dover a quick nod and then hurried to follow my father. Was he the man Anna believed was interested in marrying me? Why? He knew nothing about me, and I only knew his name. True, some marriages had begun with nothing more, but that was not how I wanted to go about things.

If I married, I wanted to know the man who would be my husband and be certain he wouldn't hold my deafness against me. He would have to be someone who would be understanding and would face the challenges a deaf wife would undoubtedly bring.

My eyes drifted to where Remy was surrounded by other people,Anna among them. The expression on his face was one of annoyance and patience. He must not enjoy being the center of attention, which was something I could relate to.

Several of the ladies I passed quickly averted their eyes. I couldn't help but wonder what Cordelia had told them. Before I could follow that train of thought to what would only be bitter, Sheriff Worth stepped in front of me.

"Miss Ivy," he greeted, tipping his hat. In his other hand was a poster. His mustache —had he always had that, or was it new?— made it slightly difficult but not impossible to read his lips. "I hoped ...see you...soon."

My curiosity peaked, I tilted my head. Why would he want to speak to me? I hadn't done a thing wrong in my life. To my surprise, Father and Cordelia didn't even pause. In fact, all of my family went their own way.

"Does this man look familiar?" he asked, and then held up the poster.

It was a wanted poster, something I'd seen a lot more of after I crossed the Mississippi. I reached out and took the poster from the sheriff to examine the sketch closer. There weren't many details contained in the sketch. The man portrayed seemed to be slender and clean shaven. His nose was narrow and he had high cheekbones. None of these features seemed familiar, so I shifted my attention to the writing.