Free Beyond All Measure by Dorothy Love Page A

question that could spoil Lillian’s good mood. As they drove into the churchyard, Ada saw a couple of rigs and a buckboard tethered to the hitching post.
    “Whoa.” Ada tugged the reins. The horse halted and swished his tail. Ada sent Lillian a triumphant grin. “We made it!”
    “Naturally.” Lillian gathered her quilting bag. “Help me down. My knees have gone stiff as a washboard.”
    Ada helped Lillian out, then reached inside the buggy for her sketchbook.
    A small, neat figure appeared in the church doorway. “Ada! Lillian!”
    Lillian squinted through her thick spectacles and waved. “Hello, Mariah!”
    Mariah ran out to greet them, her cheeks rosy, her brown eyes bright with anticipation. “Ada, you can’t imagine how excited I am about my new hat. I’ve brought my Godey’s book, but I see you’ve brought some ideas of your own.” She nodded toward Ada’s sketchbook.
    Lillian frowned. “My lands. Is that all you can think about?”
    “I’m sorry, Lillian.” Mariah offered Lillian her arm and they started into the church. “I can’t help it.”
    “First things first. We must finish that quilt for the orphanage this afternoon.”
    “Of course. You’re right.” Mariah winked at Ada. “But it’s been so long since I’ve had anything fashionable to wear. I’m dying for something new for the fall festival.”
    They entered the church and walked past the rows of polished wood pews to a room off a narrow hallway. Carrie Daly was already seated at the quilt frame. The brightly colored fabric scraps spilling from the basket at her feet made her simple black mourning dress look even more somber. Sunlight poured through the open windows and spilled across the scrubbed pine floor. A light breeze drifted in, bringing with it the smell of honeysuckle.
    Lillian took a chair on the opposite side of the quilt frame and motioned Ada to join her. She took needles and thimbles from her bag and passed one set to Ada. “Do you know how to quilt?”
    “I learned a little, helping my mother with her hats. We quilted riding bonnets for the mother of one of my school friends.”
    Just then the door opened and Bea Goldston strode into the room. “Sorry I’m late, ladies, I had to—” Spying Ada, she stopped short. “Miss Wentworth, I certainly didn’t expect you here today.”
    Lillian’s needle plied the colorful fabric. “In case it has escaped your notice, Bea,” she said without missing a stitch, “this is a church. Everyone is welcome.”
    “Yes, of course”—Bea’s smile didn’t come close to reaching her eyes—“for Sunday preaching and such. But the quilting circle . . . it’s different, isn’t it? I thought it was just for our little group. But never mind.” She turned to Lillian, her gray skirts whispering on the pine floor. “I heard that Wyatt is frightfully busy at the mill these days. If it’s a matter of transportation, Lillian, I’ll be happy to drive out and get—”
    “Ada and I can manage. Sit down, Bea, if you’re of a mind to help us finish this quilt.”
    Bea took a seat, and they all set to work. When Bea, Carrie, and Lillian were busy threading their needles, Mariah smiled at Ada and pantomimed trying on a hat. Ada smiled back, tapping down her apprehension. Was it possible to earn a living making hats?
    And if not, what other choice was there?

    Wyatt reined in his horse, dismounted, and tossed the reins to Robbie Whiting. “Give Cherokee some water, will you, son, and take her out to the paddock.”
    “Sure thing, Mr. Wyatt.” The boy grinned and fished a halfeaten apple from his pocket. “I saved this for Cherokee.”
    “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
    Boy and horse disappeared around the corner. Wyatt checked on his sawyers, then went inside and tossed his hat onto a chair piled high with papers and books and the last three issues of Harper’s magazine. He was grateful that the mill was doing so well but regretted that it left him little time for