Grace for a Drifter

by Marisa Masterson

  Errol smiled sadly as he allowed her name to pass his lips for the first time in years. “Bethany Collins.”

  “Don’t know of any Collins living in the area. You must be remembering wrong.” Sheriff Knight took his measure and held out a hand. “Still, you’re welcome to stay awhile and ply your trade in town.”

  Relieved, Errol shook the man’s hand. Knight’s lack of recognition confirmed what he’d learned in Fort Bridger. Bethany had changed her name to Grace Winkleman when she’d moved west. What happened during that month when he’d left her to be with a dying Sandra?

  The sheriff introduced Errol around town and soon he had customers waiting outside his wagon. He fixed heels and mended holes. The customers who came to him were hard workers who needed to pinch a penny whenever possible. He gladly helped them extend the life of their shoes.

  As a rich man’s son, he’d been far removed from that type of struggle. The last few years had opened his eyes to the reality of the daily struggle to survive that most people experienced. Once he returned to St. Louis to take control of his father’s factory, he vowed to make changes based on what he’d learned while traveling and meeting people.

  The first night they were in Belle, Liza skipped back to the wagon with braids bouncing against her back. She smiled happily at him and held out one braid by the pretty blue ribbon that tied its end. “See, Daddy. The teacher made me look nice. She even washed my hair and gave me ribbons.”

  Liza had met Bethany. He couldn’t help but wonder if the girl’s hair, so like his own, had drawn the woman to the little girl. At one time, Bethany loved to run her hands through his hair. Especially in intimate moments.

  At that last thought, he reigned in his mind and focused on Liza. Smiling, he circled his daughter as if intent on judging her braids. “Yes, you do look fine. Glad the teacher treated you well.”

  Liza bobbed her head and giggled as her braids danced with the movement. “How come you never make braids for me, Daddy?”

  “I guess we need a mommy for that, Princess.” He knew Liza missed out on the little things that a man wouldn’t think of but a mother would do. Patting her head carefully so that he didn’t wreck the braids he released a long sigh. She didn’t seem to remember Sandra which made him sad. He should speak about her more to Liza.

  He'd meant to look for Bethany—or Grace as she called herself now—but something held him back from confronting her. Perhaps it had to do with the protective attitude of Sheriff Knight. Probably it was due to his conversation with the owner of the mercantile.

  As he gazed in the distance at the schoolhouse, he remembered that conversation. Mr. Stewart had welcomed him until Errol mentioned that he thought he knew the schoolteacher. “She’s a happy sort of person, right? Auburn hair and a carefree attitude?”

  The man shook his head in denial. “Never known her to be like that. Sort of reddish-brown hair, true. But she always looks a bit sad around the eyes. Like she’s grieving.” He studied Errol. “Can’t be this friend you mentioned. Good teacher, though.

  Thinking back on that conversation, he tried to equate the lively girl he’d loved with the description of this mournful teacher. Had she been told he’d died? What else could have pulled her away from him? She knew he planned to return so she couldn’t have believed he’d abandoned her.

  He knew the woman he loved stilled lived—or did she? The temperament of Grace Winkleman didn’t match his Bethany. Could three years change a person that much? He needed to learn more about her before he approached her.

  The next day brought the chance to learn more about the teacher. Liza walked hand in hand with a curly blonde girl about her age. She smiled and chattered. The girl seemed anxious and clung to Liza’s hand as they approached him.

  “Daddy, look. This is my new friend, Annie.” His daughter behaved as if she’d brought him a present or an interesting rock to study rather than a person.

  He paused from the heel he’d been replacing to smile at the young blonde. “Good morning, Miss Annie.” The anxious child giggled at his address of her. “I’m glad my daughter found a friend.”

  Typical of her, Liza chattered and didn’t let the other girl speak. Annie didn’t seem to mind. His daughter told him they were on their way to see Miss Winkleman. This gave Errol the opening he needed to question Annie.

  “Has Miss Winkleman ever mentioned where she’s from?” He tried to keep his voice casual as he didn’t want to alarm the nervous-acting girl.

  She wrinkled her brow and thought for a moment. Then, in a wistful child’s voice, she shared an event she recalled. “At Christmas, the teacher talked about trees. She said our tree in the schoolhouse was an evergreen just like her hometown.” The girl looked at Liza and giggled. “She comes from a tree village.” They both erupted into a fit of giggles over what seemed silly to them.

  Errol shooed the girls away, telling them to go visit the teacher. Annie had given him the piece of information he needed. Grace Winkleman came from Evergreen and so did his Bethany. Since she’d run from him once, the best way to confront her would be to see her in a public place. The upcoming cake walk and dance, being held in two days, promised to be an event to remember for him and Bethany.

  Saturday, the town buzzed with anticipation. Families came to town both to shop and later to enjoy the cake walk and dance. After all, the proceeds helped fund the school.

  He had expected to see Bethany around town during the day. So far, he’d avoided meeting her as he gathered details about Belle’s teacher. It seemed, though, that the teacher had plans that took her away from the town.

  Liza ran up to him as he mended a lady’s boot. “Daddy, Miss Winkleman is going to pick berries. Please let me go too.” He’d kissed her forehead and warned her not to stray from the group. Then he watched the woman lead away several children who were too young to help with the building. Giggles floated back to him from the group.

  The day rushed by. Soon he followed townspeople over the hill behind the town. Blankets were spread out and tables stood with dishes various ladies had donated to the potluck. Set apart from those was a table with various cakes.

  Before long, the potluck meal was finished. Liza had made sure he sampled a bowl of fresh blackberries with cream. He’d praised her earlier when she showed him the handfuls in her little bucket and now oohed over their flavor.

  After paying her money to enter, his daughter stood next to the table filled with various cakes, all with numbers. The musicians started playing while the children circled it. Suddenly the music ceased and the children rushed to be sure they each stood next to one of the cakes. A man he’d yet to meet pulled a number from the hat held out to him.

  Liza’s friend Annie beamed as she picked up the chocolate cake near her and left the circle of children. The process was repeated until each cake had been claimed. Liza rushed to him and sobbed since she hadn’t won a cake. He dried her eyes and tickled her. “You’re sweet enough! We don’t need dessert.”

  As the musician’s played a waltz, he dutifully danced with his daughter who quickly regained her usual good humor. Now he would focus on Bethany.

  Errol felt his palms grow damp. He would ask her to dance using the same words he’d said the first time they’d met. It had also been at a dance.

  His school chum had married a girl from Evergreen. Errol had attended the wedding and the dance afterward. Memories of Bethany’s hair flaming in the lamplight flitted through his mind. It had drawn him to her with its promise of passion.

  Gathering his courage, he cautioned himself to remember that she had abandoned him. He was due an explanation! That helped to propel him out of the shadows and across the room to where she stood.

  Her back was to him as she spoke with Mrs. Knight. When he stopped behind her, he cleared his throat roughly and tapped gently on her shoulder.

  “Will you allow me to dance with the prettiest girl in the room?” He waited for her reaction to the question. She didn’t take long to respo
nd.

  Bethany whirled at his voice. She looked stricken, like a cornered fox might if a dog caught it. Suddenly, her lovely topaz eyes rolled back into her head as she pitched forward in a dead faint.

  Grace became aware of crickets chirping. The stars overhead twinkled at her out of the clear night sky. She hadn’t laid in the grass and gazed at the night sky since her childhood. Why was she doing so now?

  Suddenly, the events and her fainting episode came back to her. Errol had found her!

  Why had he bothered? After his father confirmed that his son was indeed married, she sent Errol a letter. In it, she’d blasted him for tricking her into a secret marriage that made him a bigamist. She begged him to leave her alone, if he’d ever truly loved her, so she could rebuild her life.

  The people of Evergreen had noted the amount of time she’d spent with Errol. Her contract with that school board forbade her courting anyone. She’d disregarded that in the excitement of new love. Still, they’d forgiven her that discretion and had dismissed her only when her other secret became obvious.

  Pulling her mind back to the present, she levered herself up from the blanket and looked into the concerned eyes of Hope Knight. Beyond her shoulder, Grace caught sight of Errol. From the light of the lantern he held, she saw his tight-lipped determination. He wanted answers. She felt sure of it and fumed. He had his nerve looking like a heartbroken husband.

  Hope patted her hand and urged her to move slowly. She smiled weakly at the woman and assured her that the heat of the barn had been too much for her. “The night air is reviving me. I appreciate you getting me outside.”

  The kind woman pointed over her shoulder. “Thank Mr. Marsden. He carried you out here and had the idea of placing you on a blanket.”

  At those words, Grace looked at Errol. In the weak light, she glimpsed worry. That surprised her since the man she remembered had always oozed confidence.

  When he stepped forward to speak with her, Grace hurriedly concocted an excuse. “Hope, do you know if anyone is heading into town now? I’d like to head home and go to bed.” Unable to stop it, a blush covered her face when she mentioned her bed and she darted a look at Errol. His eyebrow rose, probably in reaction to her reddened face. This was the man she remembered.

  The sheriff’s wife helped her stand to her feet and then put an arm around Grace’s shoulders. “Paps went to get his buggy. He guessed you might want to make an early night of it.”

  As she spoke, Hope walked her to the waiting buggy. Holding the lantern high, Errol walked behind them to light their path. Before Paps could come around the vehicle and help her in, Errol handed the lantern to Hope and lifted her tenderly into it. His strong hands never strayed from her waist nor did they caress her before he removed them from her person. Still, excitement flamed inside her at his touch. Past intimacies flitted through her mind at the feeling.

  After saying goodbye to Hope, Grace realized she was trapped into thanking Errol. Meeting his eyes the flickering light, she knew he’d reacted to the brief touch as well. As she thanked him, he promised her that they would meet again. She only hoped he wouldn’t follow her into town to force a confrontation that night.

  Chapter 3

  As she’d promised, Grace went to Livvy Stewart’s home to help put up the rest of her beans. The woman opened the door with a surprised look. “After your faint last night, I thought for sure you’d feel too puny to help today.”

  Grace pasted the shadow of a smile on her wan face. “Not a bit of it. I’m here like I promised.” She needed somewhere to hide from Errol and something to occupy her mind. This was as good an activity as any other.

  “Still, you look pale. I think you’d best sit. I’ll have you snapping the beans at first to give you a bit more rest.” Livvy’s eyes traveled over her face once more as if she couldn’t decide whether to let Grace work that day or not.

  As much as she wished it different, Grace couldn’t tell the woman why she looked haggard. After returning to her home last evening, she had lain awake. The cause, of course, had been Errol. Even though she had run from him three years ago, anticipation warred with dread now that he’d found her. A part of her wanted her bigamist husband to come after her and deny the charges against him. How could he deny them, though, after the mountain of evidence she’d seen?

  The kitchen filled with steam as Livvy prepared her Mason jars. Soon Grace packed beans into each and while the other woman topped the jars with salt and hot water before she screwed down the porcelain-lined zinc lid. “Now, into the hot water bath they go.” Triumph sounded in the housewife’s voice as she paused to wipe sweat from her face. “Such an improvement over chewing on those terrible leather britches all winter. I swear I never want to taste another dried green bean.”

  She screwed up her face at the thought of chewing one of the tough beans. From her childhood, Grace knew that people previously had to thread beans on a string and hang them to dry over top of the cookstove. She remembered that faintly smoky flavor of the leather britches.

  “Yes indeed. That tinsmith in New York, Mr. Mason, certainly made my life better with his bottles and lids.” Livvy placed a glass of cold water from the pump in front of Grace and sat across from her with one of her own. The woman’s eyes bored into her own. “Now tell me what is really going on.”

  Before the situation forced Grace to admit anything, a pounding on the wood of the screen door interrupted the silence between them. Livvy popped up to peer through the webbing of the black metal screen. “Why Grace, just look at these two ladies who’ve come to call!” Her smothered giggle brought Grace to the door.

  From the other side of the screen, she recognized Annie and Liza. The two girls held hands as they waited. Livvy opened the screen door and gestured for them to enter. While Annie shook her head, Liza only smiled and thanked her. “Can’t today, ma’am. We got sent here to fetch Miss Winkleman as your husband can’t leave the store, he said.” Upon delivering her important news, Liza waved and skipped off with Annie dragging behind her.

  “Well, what do you suppose all of that was about? Some game the girl is playing I imagine.” Livvy moved her head from side to side in apparent irritation.

  “No, Liza’s a very responsible girl. I believe I need to head to your husband’s store. I hope you can manage the rest of the canning.” Grace directed an apologetic expression in the other woman’s direction. The older woman smiled and nodded before shooing her out the door.

  At the mercantile, she hesitated and looked in the direction of Errol’s canvas-covered wagon. Why did she both dread and long to see him? She had a wonderful life in Belle. It was enough for her. She repeated that thought in her mind to give her strength as she opened the store’s door.

  Mr. Stewart kept a table near the front of the store for local produce and Grace scanned it idly as she entered. A basket of potatoes and one tomato sat on it. Cabbages and turnips lay in piles on one end of it as well. Fresh sliced tomato and buttered bread would make a nice lunch. She would need to purchase one before she left that day.

  Moving past the table she skirted around the barrels of crackers and pickles. It surprised her that no customers were in the store that day. Still, it was early yet. At the counter, she admired the size of the brown-speckled eggs held within the blue enameled bowl. Curtains parted and Mr. Stewart left his backroom to greet her.

  “Morning to you, Miss Winkleman. Got something for you that couldn’t wait.” He held out a folded telegram. “McKready only had time to check for you here and at the school. Not exactly ‘Western Union’ of him to leave it with me, but you know how we look out for each other in Belle.”

  Stunned at the mention of a telegram, she dumbly nodded and reached for it. Telegrams meant someone had died. By the solemn look on the store owner’s face, he thought the same thing.

  Unfolding it, she read the three lines twice before her mind let her process its import. Come home. Aunt gone. Get son. Why was the word gone used rather than dead? Her mi
nd questioned whether her aunt was deceased.

  Stewart waited a moment and then leaned forward with his hands braced on the counter. “Has someone died, Miss Winkleman?”

  She allowed herself to give an unladylike shrug. “I’m not sure. The message is quite cryptic.” Worry lined her brow as she made a plan to leave Belle. “I’ll need to head to Glenda or Fort Bridger for the train. Do you know of anyone headed there in the next day?”

  A smile creasing his face, Stewart gestured toward the darkened corner of the store. “God’s blessing you today. I surely do.” Then he called to the man hidden in the shadows. “Mr. Marsden, would you take a passenger for your trip to Glenda?”

  Errol stepped out of the shadows and approached the counter. “Gladly. We can leave within the hour and get you to the east-bound train. When does it leave, Mr. Stewart?”

  The older man pulled a copy of the Union Pacific schedule out from under his counter. Running his finger down the list, he jabbed at one spot and gave a hmm. “Looks like you need to be there no later than three o’clock this afternoon. Better get a moving if you plan to make it.”

  Grace stood speechless, torn between finding a way to refuse the ride and getting to the train. Her desire to get to Evergreen and Robbie won out. “Alright, Mr. Marsden. Let me change and pack a bag. Will you be ready to leave within the hour?”

  He flashed a triumphant grin at her and nodded. “Your needs are my priority.” Somehow the response seemed charged with a double meaning. Grace chose to ignore it and rushed from the store.

  In the next hour, she stuffed clothing into her carpetbag and hurriedly buttered the bread she had on hand. She hated to waste the butter, knowing it wouldn’t keep until she returned to Belle so she spread it thickly on the slices. It would sustain them on the trip. Perhaps Errol might even have some leftover meat or ham to put between the slices.

  Before she left town, she dropped the key to her rooms off with the sheriff. Why, she didn’t know. For some reason, she had a sense of finality as she did so, as if she wouldn’t be back.