and made no effort to hide her head-to-toe scrutiny of Olivia.
“Olivia Killion, please make the acquaintance of Iola Stubblefield,” Norma
Gay said brightly, pronouncing the woman’s given name “Eye-o-la.”
The face staring at Olivia was plain looking, the kind of woman whose age is
hard to tell. Olivia guessed mid-thirties to early forties and almost sighed her disappointment. She’d been hoping her neighbor would be young and cheerful,
with a passel of sweet-looking children trailing behind her.
No matter where she was, Mrs. Stubblefield would immediately be recognized as a farmer’s wife. Thin, colorless, dressed in brown calico, wispy hair pulled back in a bun. She had a pointy chin that she held slightly upwards
and deep lines ran along the sides of her face and between her eyebrows. She studied Olivia with pursed lips, but the smile that finally broke across her face seemed genuinely friendly.
“Mrs. Stubblefield and her husband have a place about eight miles southeast
of you,” Norma Gay offered.
“Well, praise the Lord, nice to meet you.” Iola Stubblefield pumped Olivia’s
arm. “Can’t tell you how good it will be to have neighbors. You need any help
settling in, anything at all, all you got to do is holler. My Filmore can grow anything. Strong as an ox and not quite as dumb. And I’m the closest thing there
is to a doctor for miles.”
Well, here is living proof that women make lives for themselves out here, Olivia thought. But she gazed at Iola’s leathery face with concern. Is that how I
will look in a few years? Will my eyes be as steely and cold as hers? There was something unsettling about those eyes, but Olivia chose to pay attention only to
Iola’s smile and the words of welcome that passed her lips.
“Have you trained as a nurse?” Olivia asked.
“Nah, none of that book learning. I had the best training there is – doing. I’ve
birthed more babies than anyone calls himself a doctor. My grandma taught me
everything a body can know about medicines and you’d be surprised how much
more I’ve learned from the savages. They may be godless heathens, but they
have their own ways with the plants growing around here.”
“And your husband farms?”
She nodded proudly. “This year he’s putting in five acres of buckwheat, five
of corn, and two of potatoes.”
“Do you have a team of oxen?”
“No, not yet. Filmore does all his own pushing and pulling. Like I said, he’s
big as an ox himself. And twice as stubborn. Takes on a hired man to help him,
come planting and harvest time.”
“Do you think he’d be interested in hiring the use of a team? Ours is good and
strong. It wouldn’t have to be for cash. Could be for eggs, milk, and butter or in
exchange for work.”
“Well, I think he would. You tell your husband to come over and exchange
words with him.”
“There’s just me. I don’t have a husband.” Olivia held her breath as she
watched for Mrs. Stubblefield’s reaction.
“Lordie me, what’s a child like you doing out here on her own?”
“My uncle left the land to me. I thought I’d have a go at it. If I don’t, I’ll lose my claim. I’ve got a good hired man to work it for me.”
“I never have heard of such a thing. Not never in my whole life. Why you’re
