Threads of Change Read Online Free PDF Page A

little too hard.
    Liz pulled back slightly. “Megan!”
    “Oh, sorry.”
    “There it is! I see it now!” Liz said, pointing as the stage pulled to a stop.
    She caught sight of Abby and Emma looking out the stagecoach window, and Megan sprung into action as she rushed to the stage. Liz scurried close behind, both of them holding up the edges of their dresses so they wouldn’t trip as they hurried. The stagecoach door opened and the Wilkes sisters stepped down to the dirt road, dust still swirling about. Their Sunday dresses looked slightly wrinkled, but the hats pinned on their heads sat perched straight and proper. With tired smiles, the girls greeted the others with joyous hugs.
    “You look wonderful.” Liz spoke first, her arm around Abby. “But I’m sure you’re both exhausted from your travels.”
    The commotion from the women drew the attention of bystanders. Some smiled, and a few gentlemen tipped their hats as the four women bustled up the steps. As the ladies chatted and hugged for the third or fourth time, Grandpa Lucas and Chet, one of the millworkers, grabbed the trunks and carpet bags, loading them into the wagon. Each man moved back and forth, taking several loads. When they finally finished, the two men exchanged big smiles.
    “How many granddaughters are we picking up?” Chet asked.
    Grandpa Lucas looked at the loaded wagon and shook his head. Finally, he slapped Chet on the back and said, “See ya in a while.”
    Lucas’s four granddaughters held up traffic on the boardwalk, all of them chattering at once, but all of them keeping up with every conversation. Abby and Emma both kissed their grandfather and thanked him.
    Emma looked deeply at her grandfather, as if she wanted to etch every detail about him in her mind. Liz smiled as she watched them. Grandpa Lucas still looked spry for a man of his age; the repayment for a lifetime’s uncompromising work, she supposed. He had many years ahead of him, simply because he refused to quit. Even now, he still put out nearly the same amount of work as he did in his prime.
    Liz loved the twinkle in his eyes and his big smile. Lucas Mailly was a man of risk and reached for what he wanted. It was contagious and Liz wanted it, too.
    “You ladies go on down to the bakery and take your time. When you’re ready, Chet and I will drive you home.”
    Liz chatted happily with her sister and cousins as they strolled down the sidewalk to Granny Smith’s Tea Room and Bakery. Abby and Emma looked about the town of Lecompte and seemed intrigued by it. The wheels of passing wagons crunched over the small rocks covering the street. Horses were tied to most every hitching post. They stomped their hooves and swished their tails, snickering and snorting in the hope of attracting attention and receiving a treat. A brown horse with random white spots made eye contact with Liz, watching her as the girls strolled along. He let out a stern huff and stamped his hoof.
    Emma stopped and rubbed the horse’s velvet nose. She had always loved horses. Liz recalled Isaac, the stable hand at her cousins’ plantation, teaching them how smart horses were and how they never forgot a person’s kindness; or lack thereof. Emma winked at the horse and hurried to catch up with the others. She looped her arm through Liz’s as they stopped in front of a large glass shop window.

    Chet strolled down the wooden sidewalk up ahead of them, the nailed planks beneath his feet creaking as he walked. Liz caught him watching after the rustle of their four long skirts as they swished toward the tearoom. He stepped off the boardwalk and pulled out his handkerchief, folding it carefully and then dipping the end of it into the horse trough. He wiped his face and neck and put the damp cloth into his back pocket. As the girls headed into the tearoom, Liz watched Chet head toward the saloon down the street. Chet, born a Texan, had moved to Louisiana at twenty-two, and Liz remembered hearing him say that