“I don’t mean to bother you, but I was wondering if Mr. Connor’s letter contained something bad.”
“No,” Cay said. “Just news from home.”
“I couldn’t help noticing that when you came in from the stables, you were in a bit of an ill temper, so I thought maybe . . .”
Cay reminded herself that in the future, she had to be more careful. She was used to being on the trail with Alex where they never saw the same people twice. “No, it was just my brother being what he is.”
“Oh,” Thankfull said. She was looking down at her hands and seemed to have something else to say but didn’t know how. “That’s good, then. About the letter, I mean. I hope Mr. Connor is well.”
When Cay put aside her own annoyance at Alex, she realized what Thankfull wanted: to hear news of Uncle T.C. “He certainly does think highly of you.”
“Does he?” Thankfull asked as her head came up and she smiled. “I mean, I think quite highly of him, too. Did he ever tell you about the time we made his painting chest float?”
“He mentioned it,” Cay said, telling a polite lie. T.C. had never said a word about women unless they were of some Indian tribe he’d visited. “But what were the details?”
“Do you mind?” Thankfull asked as she motioned to the chair near the bed.
“No, of course not,” Cay said as she sat up straighter in the bed. She’d removed her new vest, but she still had on her big shirt. Her breeches were draped over the end of the bed, and she thought that if she really were a male, this would be a very inappropriate meeting.
“Mr. Connor was here in the spring with Mr. Grady and they made plans for now.”
“And they stayed here with you?”
“They did,” Thankfull said, again looking at her hands. “Mr. Grady was busy all the time, but Mr. Connor . . .” She looked at Cay. “I guess you know that he’s a magnificent artist. Even Mr. Grady said so.”
Cay had to work not to reply to that. In her opinion, Uncle T.C. was a brilliant botanist, but he couldn’t draw or paint worth anything.
Thankfull got up and went to the window, glanced out at the moon, and looked back at Cay sitting on the bed. “Usually, I don’t pay much attention to the men who come through here, but Mr. Connor was different. He was kind and educated, and we had some wonderful conversations.”
“He’s a very nice man.”
“Isn’t he!” Thankfull said enthusiastically as she sat back down on the chair. “He brought boxes of artist’s supplies with him. He had great pads of paper that were made in Italy, and he had French crayons and English watercolors. They were all so very beautiful.”
Cay could only blink at the woman, for it was obvious that she was giddy in love with T.C. Connor. Cay wondered if the love was returned. According to her mother, Uncle T.C. was incapable of loving anyone but the deceased Bathsheba. “Uncle T.C. said in his letter that you know where his art supplies are and that I could use them while I wait for one of my other brothers to come for me.”
“He said that? How kind of him to remember. Yes, I have them in my bedroom.”
Cay wanted to ask her if she slept beside them, but she refrained herself. “You said something about a chest?”
“Yes, he’d had a metal trunk made to hold his supplies and his finished art. It was so well constructed that it was waterproof. Mr. Connor and I went to the river and threw it in to make sure that it would float and not leak. Of course we had a rope tied to the chest so it wouldn’t end up in Cowford, but it all worked perfectly, just as he’d planned. When we pulled it out hours later, the papers we’d put inside it were as dry as they’d been when we put the box in the river.”
“Hours?” Cay asked, and when Thankfull blushed, her face looked years younger. It’s amazing what love can do to a person, she thought.
“It took us most of a day to fully ascertain whether the chest was waterproof or not.”
“That must have been a pleasant diversion for you,” Cay said.
“Very much so.” Thankfull stood up again. “The trunk is locked, but Mr. Connor left the key with me. If his letter says you may use the items, I’ll gladly give them to you. But I will need proof, of course.”
“Yes, proof,” Cay said and she had to work to keep from frowning. It looked like Thankfull had come up with an excuse to get to see the letter from T.C.—but of course Cay could never show it to her, as it held too much information that was private. So that would mean she wouldn’t be allowed to use Uncle T.C.’s supplies while she was left there by Alex the Ungrateful.
“I’ll let you sleep now,” Thankfull said as she got up. “Just let me see Mr. Connor’s verification and I’ll be happy to turn the chest over to you.” Smiling, she went to the door.
On impulse, Cay said, “What’s Mr. Grady like?”
Thankfull’s eyes widened. “I don’t think I can describe him. Tim says he’ll be here tomorrow, so you can see for yourself.”
“Do you think he’s a kind man?”