2
AZURE SPRINGS, IOWA
Thomas looked around the little store. Without planning to, he nodded his head in approval. This store was small, but the walls were lined with shelves that reached to the ceiling and tables with displays were placed around the room. Goods covered nearly every inch of the space. He put his thumbs through his belt loops and stood marveling for a moment. Pots and pans, flour, penny candy, stacks of paper—the store had everything. He had never pictured the West being so well equipped.
“Can I help you find something?” A pudgy man behind the store counter set down the sack he was carrying.
“I’m looking for something to pass the time.” Thomas leaned against the counter. He had used his minor injuries as an excuse to keep to his room, but he couldn’t take the solitude any longer. He needed a distraction. Something. Anything to pull him from the darkness that filled his mind. He cleared his throat. “I need something to keep me busy while I wait. I’ll be leaving soon as I can find a wagon train to join up with.”
“Books, Bibles?” The man started grabbing books from the shelf behind him and setting them in front of Thomas. “We’ve a few things on hand. If you don’t see something you’re interested in, I can get most anything here in a matter of days. We have a railroad that comes right through town. Come to think of it, you could probably take it west. We aren’t the end of the line.” He scratched his head. “Aren’t those railroads something?”
“I plan to go to a territory with no trains. The real frontier. I’ll bide my time here.” Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know what books he wanted. At least a dozen books were on the counter in front of him now and the man was going back for more. Thomas stopped him. “I’ll take these books. Whatever you got there on the counter, I’ll take them. I’ll read most anything. What you got there will do.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so gruff. He paused. “Just tell me what I owe you.”
The man raised a brow. “If you’re sure—”
“I’m certain. I’m not particular.”
“Very well. I’ll wrap them up for you so they’re easier to carry. Or if you’d like, I can deliver them.”
“I can manage.” Thomas knew his still-healing scrapes and bruises weren’t too pretty to look at, but they didn’t hinder his ability to carry his own load. When the man finished tying string around the books, he pushed the bundle toward Thomas. “Thank you.”
“Glad to do it. Name’s Abraham Howell, and I consider it my privilege to help out. I’m guessing you’re Thomas Conner. Margaret was in a few days ago and told us she had a gentleman holed up in one of her rooms.” Abraham spoke slowly as he worked. “Sitting around waiting can be a miserable sentence to bear.”
“I won’t argue with you on that.” He had been struggling with the weight of his past ever since he’d left Alexandria, but now sitting around was worse.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”
“I was in a wagon accident just outside of here. We were a small group headed to Montana. They all went on without me. I plan to make my way out there as soon as another group passes through.” He ran a hand over the scratches on his forearms. “I’m hoping a couple weeks is all, and then I’ll be on my way. I don’t think I can sit around watching the clock hands much longer than that.”
“Well, Azure Springs is happy to have you.” Abraham straightened the jars on the counter. “Real happy.”
“The town is happy to have me?” Thomas asked. “I’m just a stranger passing through.”
“I suppose the town itself can’t say too much. But I’ve been here a long time. I’ve seen it grow and change. And no matter what’s come or gone, it’s always been a good place. Even for a man passing through. It’s a real good place.”
Thomas’s gaze wandered. “I’ll trust your word. I don’t think I’ll be here long enough to know for myself.”
“Well, whether you’re running to something or from something, we’re glad you at least passed through.” Abraham reached in his pocket for a handkerchief and blew his nose. “I know they may sound like a bunch of hollow words, but Azure Springs is our home. And we do enjoy company.”
Thomas wiped at the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead. “I suppose I’m running from something. Though I like to think I’m running to something.” He swallowed. “Hard to say exactly. I guess it doesn’t make much of a difference since I’m not going anywhere until I get a new wagon and team.” He laid a few bills on the counter. “Will that cover the cost?”
“This’ll more than cover it. Let me get you some change.” Abraham picked up the money. “These books will keep you busy for a while, but if you ever need more than them to pass the time, I’d gladly help you find some work. I’m not sure what your skills are, but if you’re willing to work we can find you something. You might even be able to save a few dollars to put toward your western dream.”
“I won’t be here long enough to find work.” Thomas stuck his hand in his pocket. His fingers brushed against a thick stack of bills.
Abraham reached under the counter for a little box. He began counting out coins. “Jonas Reed is putting up a new barn this Saturday. Anyone who’s willing is welcome.”
“A barn?” Hadn’t he just told the man he wasn’t looking for work?
“It’s sort of a tradition around here. Whenever a man puts up a new barn, his neighbors come and help. We make a big to-do about it.”
“No one is paid?”
“Not a soul.” Abraham patted his round stomach. “Unless you count food as pay. There’s always plenty of that. It’s more of a neighborly gesture. I suppose with you living at Margaret’s place, that makes you a neighbor too.”
The bell above the door rang. Thomas turned his head toward the sound and in walked a woman wearing a simple dress and a long braid in her yellow hair. A basket hung over her arm swayed easily as she walked.
“You must be Thomas.” she said when their eyes met. A friendly smile played across her face.
“Yep. Let me guess, Margaret told you.” He’d never get used to these small-town ways.
Her head bobbed up and down. “She’s a friend of mine. I’m Em Reynolds. Welcome to Azure Springs. Caleb and I have been meaning to stop in and meet you.” She blushed. “I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself. Caleb’s my husband. It’s always exciting when someone new comes to town.”
He nearly balked. He hadn’t expected a welcome. “Thank you. I’m not really new. I’m just passing through. I’m headed west.”
“There was a time when I thought I was simply passing through. Now this place is home.” She ran her hand over her swollen belly, the size testifying to the life she was carrying within. “It’s nice to meet you.” She stepped behind the counter and stood beside Abraham. “I was in town to see Abigail and the girls, but I couldn’t leave without saying hello.”
“I’m glad you did.” Abraham’s eyes softened when he spoke to Em. Thomas watched the exchange with open curiosity. “Let me get Thomas here his change. I got busy talking and have kept him waiting. Then I want to hear how you are. And if Caleb is happy.”
Thomas pulled his gaze away and looked at the nearest display. A table covered in cups and saucers busied his eyes, but his ears continued to listen.
“He’s very happy. It’s been a month since he turned in his badge. But it’s been a wonderful month. He’s so at ease working the land. I thought he was happy when he was sheriff, but now he’s forever smiling. It’s like he can breathe easier.”
“Of course he’s happy. He has a happy wife and a baby on the way. And he gets to walk the land he loves every day. It’s the life he was meant for.”
Thomas turned away. He was pricked by the words. “It’s the life he was meant for.” What about himself? Was there a life he was meant for? Surely, if there was, he had lost the chance to ever have it. Once again he wished there was a way to go back. But he could not.
“Fifty cents. I’m
sorry it took so long.” Abraham’s voice brought Thomas around. He took the coins and shoved them in his pocket.
“Thank you.”
“Let me know if I can get you anything else. And think about coming on Saturday.”
Thomas picked up the bundle of books and lodged it under his arm. “I’ll come. I’ve nothing better to do.”
“Saved this for you.” Dinah waved a wrinkled letter in the air. “It’s another one from Thomas to Clara. I know you felt bad about throwing his letter in the disposal bin all those days ago, so I told all the women and a few of the men to watch for anything from him.” She held out the letter. “Rex overheard and made some nasty remark about being selective and not putting in a good day’s work.”
“Why does he care?” Penny took the letter from Dinah.
“I told him it was none of his concern.” Dinah pointed toward the bags the letters arrived in. “We’ve marked the bag this one came in, so now we know where to watch for them. They’re coming in with the letters from the south of us.”
Penny stared at the letter in her hands. “I’ve been wondering for days what had become of Thomas and Clara. Two letters! He must be writing them before he even waits for a reply.” Penny ran her finger across the front of the letter. “Don’t you think he has the finest penmanship? I think he’s educated. He must be.”
“His lettering is most certainly not the reason his correspondence isn’t getting to her.” Dinah reached into a bin and pulled out a large, thick envelope. She squeezed it between her fingers. “You enjoy your brokenhearted lovers. I bet this one has real treasure in it.”
Penny watched with curiosity as her friend tore into the bulky package. Before Penny could even see what was inside, Dinah flailed her arms and threw the package on the floor.
“Ugh! Get it away from me!” Dinah shook her hands in disgust.
Penny shrieked simply because Dinah had. Only when she realized nothing was moving did she stop. By then a small crowd had gathered.
Pamela and Grace Stewart stood at the front of the group. Pamela, the older of the two sisters, leaned forward and cautiously lifted back the torn front of the envelope. “What is it?”
“It’s a snake! A horrid, awful snake,” Dinah said, practically shouting.
Using a writing stick, Pamela pushed back the paper even farther. “It isn’t a snake. It’s not moving.”
All the women leaned in for a closer look. Dinah finally relaxed. “Well, it’s the skin of a snake.” She brushed her hands against her skirts and straightened her shoulders. “It could have been alive, and then my outburst would have been justified.”
The Stewart sisters giggled together as they so often did.
Dinah glared.
Penny let out the breath she’d been holding, then she too laughed. She couldn’t help it. So many dull letters passed through the office—this, at least, was exciting.
“Who would send a snake skin?” Penny asked. “It’s such a strange thing to send in the mail.”
Dinah reached for the letter. “Billy says here he wanted his uncle Charles to see how big rattlers can get. He’s been watching for a skin for a long time. This one is in excellent shape. And even though it’s not the biggest he’s ever seen, he knew his uncle would appreciate it.”
Penny nodded. “I suppose that’s a good reason. We should be grateful he chose to send a skin and not a live snake.” Laughter filled the room. “I think this is the first skin that has passed through here. Aside from the one on the back of that live snake in that package Priscilla opened last year.”
The crowd of clerks laughed again, then slowly returned to their own piles of mail. Several mumbled about it being “just a skin,” while others continued to laugh at Dinah’s reaction or reminisce about strange findings.
“Don’t touch it,” Dinah said with her nose turned up. “It’s horrid.”
“It’s dead. It can’t hurt you.” Penny picked up the skin. “I’ve never felt anything like it. I bet Billy is an adventuresome child. Do you think he had to wander to some faraway fields day after day to find this?”
“Maybe you ought to be the one to find Uncle Charles. I wish I hadn’t opened it.” Dinah folded her arms across her chest.
“Roland would like it. You could give it to him.” Penny set down the snake skin and scooped up the letter from Thomas. “I’m going to look for clues about Thomas and Clara. I must have missed something before. I’m going to help Thomas get his happily ever after.”
Dinah picked up the thin snake skin between two fingers and held it away from her body as though it were something dangerous. “You and your happily ever afters.”
Penny smiled at her friend. “Roland might think you’re after your own happily ever after. You know how he loves the unusual finds. If there’s a way to that man’s heart, it’s through snake skins and other oddities.” Roland’s beady eyes would light up behind his spectacles whenever something outrageous landed in his hands. “He’ll probably swoon like the Stewart girls do when they read a romantic letter.”
“And like you do. You’re as eager for love as the rest of them.” Dinah grimaced as she carried the snake skin toward Roland’s desk. “I’m certainly not after Roland’s heart, but I don’t mind seeing him smile. After all, he saved us from that live snake once, remember? This”—she held the snake skin a little higher—“and every other disgusting thing I happen to open will be gifted to him.”
Penny laughed softly as she moved to the opposite corner of the office to a few open seats near a window. “I’ll be reading.”
“And swooning,” Dinah said to her back.
Although Penny had heard Dinah’s remark, she sat down and didn’t acknowledge it. But she certainly recognized the truth of the statement. Her heart did beat wildly when she thought of love. Even someone else’s.
Dear Clara,
Penny paused and looked again at the perfect penmanship. She swallowed hard at the thought of a man writing so neatly and precisely to her. Oh, to have a man write to her . . . Someday she hoped to open a letter and have it read, Dear Penny.
She brushed the thought away. Dwelling on what was not to be only lowered her spirits. Instead, she delved into Thomas’s letter.
There are times when my room at the boardinghouse feels like a prison. I feel trapped, as though I can’t get out. My heart races and my temperature rises. I always think of you then. I think of you and wonder what it must have been like. But thinking that only makes it harder to breathe.
When it becomes unbearable, I step out away from the yellow boardinghouse. I leave with no real purpose or motive. I just know I have to get away. I’ve wandered up and down the streets. I know them, but they are still not my streets. This is not my home. I am a lost man even though I know the name of each building I pass.
This isn’t my town, but I wonder if it ever could be or if it could have been if the past had been different and I was simply a man looking for a fresh start. In all the time I lived in Alexandria, I never felt half as welcomed as I do here. I tell everyone I meet that I am simply passing through and they still embrace me with warmth. They offer to let me join them on their farms or to sit by them for dinner. It’s comforting and strange and confusing.
I spent a day on a farm working side by side with farmers, merchants, and railway men. Together we hammered board after board. Our individual efforts offered on behalf of an old farmer amounted to a barn. I’ve never before witnessed such a generous act, much less participated in one. My work amounted to nothing financially and yet it was the most rewarding work I’ve ever done. I wonder if I’d been to an event such as this when I was a boy if I’d have grown into a different man. I believe I would have been a better man. I find myself wondering if I could have been.
They know nothing of my past. Perhaps if they did they would not be so amiable. I wonder if they would welcome me even if they knew why I set out west. Would they still want me working beside them? Would they ever build me such a barn? I’m not
sure I’m brave enough to ask.
I spend a great deal of my time wondering and wishing. Praying that somehow I could find a way to truly apologize for the past and let it go. Repentance, retribution. Set it right. I can almost hear the pastor preaching his words of redemption. I never thought much about those words until now. And here I sit, yearning for a way to right my wrongs, yet I find there is nothing I can do. If there were, I would do it. I would do anything. If only you were here beside me, I would tell you how my heart hurts. It wants to be healed, to beat in the type of man who uses his tools to help another. It wants to wander these wheat-covered fields and marvel at their beauty. It wants to laugh and smile and discover what it means to live a purposeful life, but it cannot. Or maybe it can or could. I don’t know. There is so much I don’t know.
With a penitent heart,
Thomas
Penny looked out the window to the right of her. The melancholy of the letter matched the listless gray bricks of the building next door. Twice she read it, hoping to discover a reference that would help her find Clara or at least tell her where Thomas was. He needed Clara. Not just to ease his broken heart or for a happily ever after but because his pain was so deep.
“How is the lovesick Tom?” Dinah asked as she walked up beside her. Penny’s head jerked up. “Has he given up on his forever love?”
“He yearns for his Clara. Something must have happened between the two of them, but he’s sorry about it. I can tell he is.” Penny folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket. “There are no clues. He says in the letter that she lives in Alexandria, just as it says in the address. But it’s marked undeliverable again. I don’t understand. The two were obviously very much in love, at least I believe they were. She’s somewhere and doesn’t know how he needs her. Or how sorry he is.” She stood and began pacing, her well-worn boots clicking against the old wood floor. “What if she’s sick? Living with some distant relative so she can have better care? Or perhaps she’s suffering from financial trouble. She’s been evicted while waiting for him to come and sweep her off her feet.”
Yours Truly, Thomas Page 3
