Yours Truly, Thomas

by Rachel Fordham

  “It’s not just about my personal pain. If you had a rattlesnake in your house, you’d throw it out. Some things will never be friendly, and I think Jeb might be a serpent. I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to keep people safe.”

  “First, let’s make sure he did it.” Thomas spoke slowly. “If he didn’t, then I won’t be the one to put space between him and me. I’m sorry about Eliza. I didn’t realize she was the one. But I can’t claim a new life if all I’m doing is exchanging one set of enemies for another. I’ll give him a chance.”

  “You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.” Hugh tightened the strap on his horse. “Let’s go.”

  “That’s all I can tell you right now.” The sheriff stood and walked to the jailhouse door, dismissing Thomas, Caleb, and Hugh. “If I hear anything or see anything, I’ll let you know. But other than asking around, I can’t offer you much help. There’s too many needs in town for me to stand guard at your place.”

  “I’ll help ask around,” Caleb offered. “I know most everyone within a ten-mile radius of the city. I’ll make some stops on my way home.”

  “Thank you.” Thomas rubbed his jaw, grateful but uncomfortable to be the reason Caleb had left his fields. “I’ll see if Margaret can keep her ears open at the dining hall.”

  “Glad to do it.” Caleb put on his hat and headed for his horse. “Best thing I learned from being sheriff is we all got to look out for each other. If we all do, there’s a chance we’ll hear something that will tell us who ruined your fields.”

  “What did I tell you?” Hugh laughed as he readied his own horse to ride. “It’s to everyone’s advantage to help out a neighbor.”

  “I’m much obliged to have neighbors like you both,” Thomas said.

  The sun was well past the midpoint of the sky when he said goodbye to his friends. They’d declined his invitation to join him at the boardinghouse for dinner. Caleb wanted to make some stops and hurry back to Em. Hugh thought about staying but decided to return to his fields before all daylight was gone. Thomas did not feel eager to return to his trampled fields or empty home.

  A noise startled him when he approached the yellow building. Cautiously, he stepped around the back in hopes of discovering the source of the sound. To his surprise, he found Penny sitting on the ground, sobbing, with her arms around her dog.

  A noise startled Penny. She looked up and, through her tears, saw Thomas.

  “Again.”

  “Again?” He took a step backward. “I can go. I just wanted to see if you were well. I heard a noise. That’s all.”

  “You’re always catching me in the worst of straits.” She looked away and tried to wipe the tears from her face.

  “Has something happened?” He took a few small steps toward her. “I thought my day was going poorly, but I’m certain it is nothing in comparison to yours. What has you crying?”

  “Margaret has banished my poor Honeysuckle.” Penny grabbed her dog’s neck and pulled it into a tight embrace. “It’s Honey’s fault. I don’t blame Margaret, but I don’t know what I will do with her. Margaret won’t let her back inside.”

  “What terrible offense did she commit?” Thomas had worked his way to her side and now stood over her. “She’s not covered in mud.”

  Penny stood up. She leaned close to Thomas and whispered, “Honey ate one of the dinner roasts.”

  “That is a terrible offense. Margaret takes her meals very seriously.”

  “I know. I tried to tell Honey to stay out of the kitchen, but she doesn’t listen to me any longer.” Penny wiped her eyes and looked down at Honey. “She’s practically family, and even if she is naughty I don’t want to part with her.”

  Thomas stared at the dog for a long moment. “Why not let her stay out at the Dawson farm with me?”

  Penny’s eyes shot up. “With you? You’d do that?”

  “Of course.” He shrugged. “It’s awfully quiet out there. The place could use a good watchdog.”

  “Oh!” Acting purely on impulse, she threw her arms around him. To her great surprise, his arms came around her too. “Really and truly?” she whispered into his ear. “You’d really do that?”

  “Yes.”

  She released him and looked up at his eyes as heat raced to her face. “I’m sorry. I seem to have left all my manners when I boarded that train for Azure Springs. But you don’t know how grateful I am.”

  “It’s nothing. She can help keep an eye on the place.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You can come visit if you start missing her.”

  Penny put a hand on Honey’s head. “She can be terribly needy and she has a strange affinity for water. Especially if it’s muddy.”

  “I think I’ve witnessed that. I can handle her.” He held out his arm to Penny. “Honey seems to be tied up securely for now. Shall we go eat?”

  “I believe you are a rather saintly man,” she said as she took his arm. “I don’t imagine I’ll ever be able to repay you for your kindness.”

  “I’m anything but saintly. But I’ve decided I would like to be a good man.”

  17

  You don’t have to look so down. Your dog is fine,” Margaret said before handing Penny a bowl of oatmeal the next morning. “I think Thomas is quite capable.”

  “I am worried about her . . . and him.”

  “Of course you are.” Margaret threw her a sympathetic look. “Em is going to be by soon to take you around and help you get better acquainted with the townsfolk, and then you promised to take Thomas a meal. You can see your darling Honey when you get out there. Until then, we will both hope your dog has not spent another morning in the mud.”

  “Margaret?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you plot all this? I would not think it possible of most people, but I think you probably could orchestrate it.”

  Margaret chuckled. “You give me far too much credit. I may have prepared this basket of food for Thomas with the hopes that the two of you would share it, but I had no way of knowing he would volunteer to take Honey. And I can assure you I would never, ever give that good of a roast to a dog.” Her features grew serious. “Providence may have had a hand in it. But no matter how it came to be, your dog is now living with a very handsome and mysterious bachelor. Best get ready so you can be on your way.”

  Dear Dinah,

  I wish you were here! I’ve been missing you and wanting to know what is happening with Lucas and if you’ve gotten any interesting letters at the office. Please write me and tell me everything. You know I enjoy lots of details. I haven’t received even one letter from you and I’ve already written three. It’s just that, for the first time in my life, I have so much to tell. I know I should spend as much time writing my mother as I spend writing you, but though I’ve written her I can’t bring myself to share all the details of my days. I know she’ll tell me what I’m doing is wrong. And so, my dear friend, it is you who gets to hear about my glorious day.

  First, I must tell you that Honey was banished from the boardinghouse, but thankfully Thomas took her in. He rescued me in my moment of despair—truly, it was heroic. I was so grateful that I threw myself into his arms. I know it sounds terribly improper, and in my mother’s eyes, it may have been, but I rather liked it. And since his arms came around me too, I think he must be at least partially to blame.

  Today Margaret arranged for me to spend the day with Em Reynolds. Hers is a most unusual tale. When I am back in DC, I will tell you her story. It has a tragic beginning but a beautiful ending. Just hearing it made me believe happily ever afters do happen. There’s no way I could write it all out. If I did, it would be a novel no one could put down.

  I’ll keep it simple and tell you she is a good woman who took me around the area. We began in town, stopping to say hello to everyone we saw. My favorites were Mae and Milly Howell. I’d met them before, but this time I felt like we became friends. They are nine-year-old twins who are perfect replicas of one another. I believe my
younger self would have very much liked them. Someday they will grow into terribly romantic girls who you would probably roll your eyes at but find charming all at once. I’ve also decided Violet Lane is someone I wish to know better. I imagine there are women like her in DC, but my mother never would have wanted me to meet them. Violet is old and poor. Her skin is weathered and worn. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s seen at least eighty years of life. I think I’ll go sit with her one day just so I can hear her stories. She’s seen war, love, family, death, and so much more. She has a quick wit and an endearing smile.

  Everyone we met seemed so eager to be not only my acquaintance but also my friend. You would’ve loved it, Dinah. So many of the rules that kept people apart in DC don’t exist here. In Azure Springs, it seems anyone who wishes to be friends can be. It’s a beautiful thing.

  After our time in town, we went down the bumpy country roads. I was certain the wagon would split in two, it bumped so severely. But Em laughed my fears away. She took me to her farm. It’s humble and peaceful. There are big trees and a babbling brook. The front porch has two identical rockers. I found it charming and serene. It’s a place you could escape to and almost forget the rest of the world exists. We didn’t stay long, but it was long enough for me to feel the love in the home.

  Margaret had left us with specific instructions to drop off a basket of food for Thomas. She’s a terribly meddlesome woman! And I confess I love her for it. The whole way to Thomas’s I couldn’t think a clear thought. I only felt. And what I felt was excitement. I was going to set foot on the old Dawson place. I could not wait to see it for myself. And, of course, I was eager to see Honey and had been praying that she’d behaved.

  When we got there, Honey came running for me and I felt like I was being reunited with a part of myself that had been missing. Thomas assured me several times she had been no trouble. I wonder if he might have told me a lie. When my arms were around Honey, her fur felt damp and I thought I caught the faint scent of soap. I believe she may have had a bath recently.

  Once I’d been reassured that Honey was safe and well, I looked at the land. I was swept away. It’s the loveliest place I’ve ever seen. Truly, it is. A perfect little house, with a barn and a well, settled among the rolling green hills. A few trees blowing in the breeze. Fences and rows of crops. And, of course, Thomas himself only added to the setting. There he was standing in his fields when we rode in. Busy working the soil. It was a sight I could look at daily and never grow tired of.

  Thomas seemed rather distraught when we first arrived. He confessed his fields had been disturbed just the day before. He said he’d have told me yesterday, but he didn’t want to add to my worries seeing as I’d been in tears over Honey being kicked out of the boardinghouse. He doesn’t know who tried to ruin his harvest. I was always drawn to the mystery of the dead letters and now I’m equally drawn, if not more so, to the mystery of his fields. I could tell he had suspicions, though he did not name names. He merely mentioned the dilemma and told Em he’d spoken to Caleb, Em’s husband, about it. From what I gathered, Caleb had been unable to solve the puzzle despite his history as the town’s sheriff. It seems entirely unfair that someone can do such a horrible deed and suffer no consequence for it other than the fact that his soul ought to be suffering wherever that good-for-nothing man is.

  When Thomas saw the basket of food, his spirits seemed to rise. He was extremely gracious. Then he walked me across his fields, to his barn, and around the outside of his house. I wanted to peek inside but didn’t dare. Someday I hope to see the inside of the Dawson home. Until then, I’ll busy myself with imagining what it must look like inside.

  Later, Em confessed a man in town desperately wanted Thomas’s land. I wish I could help somehow. If the answer were tucked away at the library, I’d know how to find it. But this puzzle is of a different nature and I’ve not thought of a way to help. I can assure you I’ll be thinking on it.

  Leaving Honey was difficult, but Thomas has assured me I can see her whenever I wish. And when he is free enough to eat at the dining hall, he’ll bring her for me to see. Perhaps Honey’s troublesome ways are not all bad. I do enjoy my time with Thomas.

  Write me, dear friend,

  Penny

  P.S. Can you believe how quickly the days are passing? I know I cannot stay forever. I will have to decide soon to either return to the dead letter office or go to Uncle Clyde’s. I prayed last night that time would slow down. That extra hours could be in my days. That somehow I could stay longer in this beautiful place. My money will not last forever, though I wish it would.

  Penny finished her letter, knowing there were so many things she couldn’t fit on the pages. She could find no words to describe the way Thomas had looked when he’d stared with pride at his rolling fields. Even weary, he still looked like a man who was grateful for the soil he stood upon.

  And he was so kind. When they gave him the food, he thanked them sincerely. Then Em, who was expecting a child, said she’d like to sit on his porch chair and rest for a spell. He pulled the rocker to the shade for her and brought her a drink.

  “Show Penny around,” Em said. “She’s about to begin a novel. I think your farm will help her with her setting.”

  He turned to her. “Penny, may I show you around?”

  Then, in a most gentlemanly fashion, he offered his arm. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper.

  They walked—around the house, the barn, and the fields. Their conversation was easy. Hardly a lull, and when there was a lull it was peaceful as they both looked out at the vast and lovely setting.

  “You’ve your own piece of paradise,” she said as she admired the property. Honey ran around them enjoying herself.

  Thomas nodded his head. “I didn’t see it as that at first. I thought this was to be my prison. But I now realize what I left was a prison. This is freedom. I’ve found it, and though I cannot change the past, I see all this and have hope for a brighter future. My fields will grow again. I like to believe life still holds promise and can bear good fruits.”

  “My father always believed in good things ahead.”

  They stood side by side staring out at his land. He reached over then and put a hand on her shoulder. Penny took comfort in it and in his words. “I think I would’ve liked your father. Someday I hope you’ll tell me all his wisdom.”

  “I think he’d have liked you.”

  “He must have been one of those people who likes everyone. I can be a difficult fellow to like.” He removed his hand from her shoulder and tucked it in his pocket. “Tell me about your story. We’ve time now.”

  Her legs felt less stable then. If only he would put his hand back. Somehow she’d felt stronger when he was touching her. “I hope to truly begin tonight. I’ve decided only just now that I will write a story about a city man who heads to the country in hopes of a better life.”

  “A more fulfilling life.” A faint smile played on his lips. “Write it about a man who carried a heavy burden. Tell how the Bible, the fertile soil, and a letter from a stranger changed him.”

  “A letter?”

  “A few letters I’d sent didn’t make it to their destination. Someone from the dead letter office retrieved them. A woman wrote me back. She said she’d prayed for me. I’d never had someone pray for me before.” He paused for a moment. “Those words . . . just knowing someone out there cared. They lifted me up. I was in a dark place and they offered me light. I read the words so many times.”

  “Everyone should be prayed for.” Fear kept her from saying more. What would he think if he knew that it’d been his words, his pain that had brought her here? That she was the one who had prayed for him? “I’ll be sure to include the letter in my story.”

  “Have it remind him that he has a purpose still. Have him feel less alone holding a stranger’s words in his hand.” He motioned toward the land. “Be sure to give your character a happy ending. Let him find joy
after the pain. It’s what I hope for.”

  “I will. The happiest of endings.”

  “Have your man meet good people. A pudgy shopkeeper, a wild-haired widow, and a good friend. Let them touch his life.” He smiled down at her. His dark eyes were soft and inviting. “You could even have a girl with brilliant green eyes show up out of nowhere for a reason no one could quite put their finger on. She could be a perfect dancing partner. Someone who speaks horse and rides miles and miles on bumpy roads to bring him a meal. Make sure she owns a very hairy dog. One that cannot resist the water or a well-cooked roast.”

  “What will become of the girl and the dog?” she asked. “Did she find what she was looking for? Was there purpose in her coming?” Then she held her breath while she waited for his answer.

  He didn’t answer her right away. Instead, he merely stared into her eyes. She felt vulnerable and on fire all at the same time.

  “I don’t know. I would hope she finds everything she’s looking for and more,” he finally said.

  She held his gaze. “Even I don’t know how the story will play out.”

  “Whatever you do, give her a happy ending too.”

  Penny slowly let out the air she’d been holding in. Her whole life she’d dreamed of a happy ending for herself. But she was twenty-two now and had to support herself. Could something other than toiling day after day be in her future? Something other than Uncle Clyde and a strategic match with a stranger named Horace?

  “I suppose in a novel anything is possible.”

  “I’m sure your father would say it’s possible in real life too.” He put a hand on her back and gently turned her toward the house. “Let’s head back.”

  She agreed despite her desire to stay on that gentle rise and never leave it.

  “If you start your story and can’t decide what to write next, come walk this hill with me again.”

  “I’d like that.” She nudged him. “I might get stuck often. I like it here in the open air with this view.”