Free Year of Jubilee by Peggy Trotter Page A

to
squeeze the ruffled sleeve caps.
    “Oh, no. No, no, Britta, pretty dress. No
wrinkle.” Elsa fussed. “You want me take her?”
    “No, she’s fine.”
    “That dress—so beautiful.” Elsa’s eyes
widened.
    Jubilee smiled. “The pastor’s wife gave it
to me on my wedding day.”
    “Oh,” Elsa’s face brightened. “Miss Esther
nice woman. You come visit? We have tea.”
    Jubilee glanced to Rafe. “Perhaps.”
    * * *
    Rafe scanned the trio at the window as he
muddled through Ivan’s poor English. He caught his breath. Jubilee
positively glowed as she held Ivan’s babe. She bounced the child on
her hip and pressed the little girl’s hand against the slants of
light, earning a happy squeal. He pulled his eyes away and blinked,
remembering to nod to Ivan as he paused to search for the right
word, but his gut tightened. She seemed so at ease and happy to be
cradling that child. Her laughter floated to him.
    Rafe pulled at his collar. He made his
getaway from Ivan and walked toward Jubilee, and saw her eyes go
from joy to guarded watchfulness. She handed the baby back to her
mother and waved at her new friend as she moved to Rafe’s side.
After assisting her up onto the wagon seat, it was complete and
utter silence all the way home.

CHAPTER NINE
    Rafe and Jubilee attended church faithfully
each Sunday. The pastor and his wife always welcomed them with a
firm handshake and a hug. He enjoyed getting to know Ivan. As he
talked to the big Swede, Rafe’s gaze usually drifted to Jubilee
chatting with Elsa and reveling in Britta’s escapades. He tried to
harden his heart to Jubilee’s joy when she held Britta. Children
were a gift from God, Rafe knew, but there were no babies in
Jubilee’s future. Their marriage was a business arrangement. Rafe
clenched his jaw. This plan had been his idea hadn’t it? At
least she isn’t homeless.
    Rafe wrote a letter to his folks to let them
know the exact date of their visit. They’d stay two weeks with his
parents while Ivan took care of the farm. Sure would be good to get
back home and visit the family. But the thought of meeting up with
Rosemary again set his teeth on edge.
    * * *
    The night before the trip, Jubilee lamented
and fretted over every item she put in her newly purchased satchel.
Rafe had packed the wagon the day before so they could pull out
early in the morning.
    Nerves had Jubilee staring at the rafters
when she should have been sleeping. Relief washed over her when the
clock hands moved to four a.m. She threw the covers from her and
began to get ready. Rafe had told her at dinner the night before
that the stagecoach left out of Princeton at five a.m. They’d board
Horse at Griffen’s Livery and Blacksmith Shop nearby.
    She dressed quickly in the darkness, her
anxiety growing when she stepped onto the porch to wait for Rafe.
Streaks of pink appeared in the eastern sky, lighting the darkness
through the heavy woods. The air was moist, and God’s creation
seemed to hush at the wonder of daylight. She tried to concentrate
on the beautiful morning, but her hand worked a circle in her
skirt. Please let everything be all right, Lord.
    There wasn’t much conversation on the trip
into town. Rafe made short business of boarding Horse, transferring
the carpetbags and purchasing their tickets. Jubilee’s tummy
tumbled as she viewed the aging Concord stagecoach. But it had new
wheels and the leather looked sturdy. A boy with a ragged jacket
ran to and fro to bring buckets of water to the four horses
harnessed to the front.
    The men threw the luggage to the top and
strapped it to the back as well. The driver was a grizzled tough
nut, and his partner of the same sort, with wiry beards and
sweat-marked hats.
    “Looks like we had plenty of time.” Rafe
grinned.
    Jubilee nodded, then watched as the driver
and his cohort disappeared into the stagecoach office.
    After another twenty minutes, they began to
board. Jubilee, the only woman on the stage, boarded first with