The Founding Father by Diana Palmer

Author:Diana Palmer
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-06-25T04:00:00+00:00

Ellen Jacob's first glimpse of her future home would have been enough to discourage many a young woman from getting out of the buckboard. The shade trees shaded a large, rough log cabin with only one door and a single window and a chimney. Nearby were cactus plants and brush. But there were tiny pink climbing roses in full bloom, and John confessed that he'd brought the bushes here from Georgia planted in a syrup can. The roses delighted her, and made the wilderness look less wild.

Outside the cabin stood a Mexican couple and a black couple, surrounded by children of all ages. They stared and looked very nervous as John helped Ellen down out of the buckboard.

She had rarely interacted with people of color, except as servants in the homes she had visited most of her life. It was new, and rather exciting, to live among them.

"I am Ellen Colby" she introduced herself, and then colored. "I do beg your pardon! I am Ellen Jacobs!" She laughed, and then they laughed as well.

"We're pleased to meet you, señora," the Mexican man said, holding his broad sombrero in front of him. He grinned as he introduced himself and his small family. "I am Luis Rodriguez. This is my family—my wife Juana, my son Alvaro and my daughters Juanita, Elena and Lupita." They all nodded and smiled.

"And I am Mary Brown," the black woman said gently. "My husband is Isaac. These are my boys, Ben, the oldest, and Joe, the youngest, and my little girl Libby who is the middle child. We are glad to have you here."

"I am glad to be here," Ellen said.

"But right now, you need to get into some comfort-able clothing, Mrs. Jacobs," Mary said. "Come along in. You men go to work and leave us to our own chores," she said, shooing them off.

"Mary, I can't work in these!" John exclaimed defensively.

She reached into a box and pulled out a freshly ironed shirt and patched pants. "You go off behind a tree and put those on, and I’ll do my best to chase the moths out of this box so's I can put your suit in it. And mind you don't get red mud in this shirt!"

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a sheepish grin. "See you later, Ellen."

Mary shut the door on him, grinning widely at Ellen. "He is a good man," she told Ellen in all seriousness as she produced the best dress she had and offered it to Ellen.

"No," Ellen said gently, smiling. "I thank you very much for the offer of your dress, but I not only brought a cotton dress of my own—I have brought bolts of fabric and a sewing machine."

There were looks of unadulterated pleasure on all the feminine faces. "New...fabric?" Mary asked haltingly.

"Sewing machine?" her daughter exclaimed.

"In the buckboard," Ellen assured them with a grin.

They vanished like summer mist, out the door. Ellen followed behind them, still laughing at their delight. She'd done the right thing, it seemed—rather, her father had.

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