Romancing Olive Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Holly Bush
don’t get no bacon,” the little girl said as she swung her head side to side.
Olive’s eye twitched with the double negative. She climbed down from the wagon and headed back to the house.
“What’s she doing, Daddy?” Luke asked and squirmed in his seat.
“Not a clue, son,” Jacob Butler replied.
Olive walked out of the house and climbed up into the wagon, muttering as she went. Shaking her head, she fixed Jacob Butler with a taut smile and slapped the horse into motion.
“Ya forget something?’” Luke asked finally as the wagon rumbled down the road.
“No, but your father certainly did,” Olive huffed.
Olive would have enjoyed the nearly one hour ride if the children had not jumped and shouted as if they were on the greatest adventure of their lives. Thankfully the lane was straight and dry and the horse needed little encouragement. When they arrived in town, the children were near giddy with excitement.
“Now, I have some business to conduct in the bank and I expect you all to be mindful of your manners,” Olive said to the children as they climbed down from the wagon. They stood straight like little soldiers and marched behind her as she opened the heavy door.
“Good afternoon, sir. I need to have monies transferred from my bank in Philadelphia. Can you accommodate me?” Olive asked at the barred window.
“Yes, ma’am, certainly,” the clerk replied.
Olive looked down at the children as she conducted her business and found Luke and Peg fascinated with the shoe string ties on the next customer. But John was hiding in her volumes of skirts.
“Luke, Peg, stand up beside me, please. Yes, that’s better,” Olive said as Peg reached up to hold her hand.
Olive uncovered John’s face and found him staring wide-eyed at a man at the next window. The cowboy was dirty and his shirt, sweat stained as he peered around Olive to John’s face.
“Hey, ain’t you Sophie’s kid?” the cowboy asked.
John turned into Olive’s skirts and Luke and Peg inched back to her.
“Hey, I’m talking to ya. Ain’t you Sophie’s boy?” he asked again.
John quivered and Olive laid her hand on his shoulder. “This young man is my brother James and his wife Sophie’s child. I am his Aunt.”
“Well,” the cowboy said and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “I knows it’s Sophie’s boy but folk wondered if Jimmy was his Pa.”
The other customers and the tellers let out chuckles and Olive heard whispers. She turned her head slowly and met each smiling face till it sobered and then faced the cowboy. “This is my brother James’s son. My nephew. State your business, sir.”
The cowboy shrugged and Olive turned back to the window and completed her transaction. By the time she gathered her purse and the children’s hands she was shaking and furious. Olive nearly dragged the children down the street and when she looked down at them she saw fear and in John’s face, shame. She knelt down on the dusty sidewalk as she had seen Jacob Butler do and addressed them.
“Do not let anyone’s words shame or frighten you. Words can not hurt you.” They nodded together, solemnly, but John would not meet her eye.
Olive stopped at the hotel to fetch her bags before going to the general store. She placed her valise under the seat of the wagon and looked up to find John staring at a man across the street. The disreputable looking character was staring back, his hands on his hips. The stranger pushed back his hat and leaned forward as if to get a better look at her nephew. John’s face was white, as were his lips and his bottom lip trembled. Olive had not time, nor the inclination to deal with another bold, rude person like the cowboy in the bank. She took John’s hand and led him to the general store.
“Afternoon, ma’am,” a round man wearing a white apron said.
“Good afternoon, sir. I have a letter of credit from my bank in Philadelphia. I would like to open an account until my money is
Olive’s eye twitched with the double negative. She climbed down from the wagon and headed back to the house.
“What’s she doing, Daddy?” Luke asked and squirmed in his seat.
“Not a clue, son,” Jacob Butler replied.
Olive walked out of the house and climbed up into the wagon, muttering as she went. Shaking her head, she fixed Jacob Butler with a taut smile and slapped the horse into motion.
“Ya forget something?’” Luke asked finally as the wagon rumbled down the road.
“No, but your father certainly did,” Olive huffed.
Olive would have enjoyed the nearly one hour ride if the children had not jumped and shouted as if they were on the greatest adventure of their lives. Thankfully the lane was straight and dry and the horse needed little encouragement. When they arrived in town, the children were near giddy with excitement.
“Now, I have some business to conduct in the bank and I expect you all to be mindful of your manners,” Olive said to the children as they climbed down from the wagon. They stood straight like little soldiers and marched behind her as she opened the heavy door.
“Good afternoon, sir. I need to have monies transferred from my bank in Philadelphia. Can you accommodate me?” Olive asked at the barred window.
“Yes, ma’am, certainly,” the clerk replied.
Olive looked down at the children as she conducted her business and found Luke and Peg fascinated with the shoe string ties on the next customer. But John was hiding in her volumes of skirts.
“Luke, Peg, stand up beside me, please. Yes, that’s better,” Olive said as Peg reached up to hold her hand.
Olive uncovered John’s face and found him staring wide-eyed at a man at the next window. The cowboy was dirty and his shirt, sweat stained as he peered around Olive to John’s face.
“Hey, ain’t you Sophie’s kid?” the cowboy asked.
John turned into Olive’s skirts and Luke and Peg inched back to her.
“Hey, I’m talking to ya. Ain’t you Sophie’s boy?” he asked again.
John quivered and Olive laid her hand on his shoulder. “This young man is my brother James and his wife Sophie’s child. I am his Aunt.”
“Well,” the cowboy said and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “I knows it’s Sophie’s boy but folk wondered if Jimmy was his Pa.”
The other customers and the tellers let out chuckles and Olive heard whispers. She turned her head slowly and met each smiling face till it sobered and then faced the cowboy. “This is my brother James’s son. My nephew. State your business, sir.”
The cowboy shrugged and Olive turned back to the window and completed her transaction. By the time she gathered her purse and the children’s hands she was shaking and furious. Olive nearly dragged the children down the street and when she looked down at them she saw fear and in John’s face, shame. She knelt down on the dusty sidewalk as she had seen Jacob Butler do and addressed them.
“Do not let anyone’s words shame or frighten you. Words can not hurt you.” They nodded together, solemnly, but John would not meet her eye.
Olive stopped at the hotel to fetch her bags before going to the general store. She placed her valise under the seat of the wagon and looked up to find John staring at a man across the street. The disreputable looking character was staring back, his hands on his hips. The stranger pushed back his hat and leaned forward as if to get a better look at her nephew. John’s face was white, as were his lips and his bottom lip trembled. Olive had not time, nor the inclination to deal with another bold, rude person like the cowboy in the bank. She took John’s hand and led him to the general store.
“Afternoon, ma’am,” a round man wearing a white apron said.
“Good afternoon, sir. I have a letter of credit from my bank in Philadelphia. I would like to open an account until my money is