Neither of them spoke for the first three blocks. Around them, the night lay still save for the hiss of wind through bare tree branches and a banging shutter somewhere in the distance. Clouds obscured the sky, and though they didn’t have a lantern to brighten the streets, Lily knew every hollow and rut well enough not to trip in the poor light as long as she concentrated. If Ben remained silent, she could pay attention to her feet.
“Why do you think the city is so grand?” He broke the stillness with a question that made Lily stumble.
She set her chin. “It has more people and more lights and more things going on. A body doesn’t get lonely there.”
“You’re mistaken in that, Lily.” He took her gloved hand in his. “I was lonely all the time when I was in the city.”
“You were lonely all the time you were traveling, from what you said.”
She knew she should withdraw her hand from his, but she liked the strength of his fingers around hers.
“I was until I met the Lord face-to-face, so to speak.” His voice held a smile. “I talked to Him after that whenever Pa didn’t have much to say. He didn’t have much to say very often unless he was selling one of his goods from the wagon. He sure could make friends then.”
“He must have met a trainload of people over the years.” Lily knew she sounded wistful as she gazed into the distance. “Lots of people to be friends with at any time.”
“Lily.” Ben stopped and faced her. “When my father died, not one person he had met over the years was there. He collapsed in the street in Chicago, and not one person came to his aid.”
“That’s. . .terrible.” Lily shook her head to clear it. “I mean, you’d think someone would stop.”
“You would.” Ben tightened his hand on hers. “I found him myself about the time a policeman got there.”
“So someone did summon help.” Lily felt relief lightening her mood.
“Someone complained about him blocking their shop doorway.”
Lily flinched. “That must have hurt you terribly.”
“You know what hurt worse?” Ben resumed walking, urging Lily along with him. “No one came to his funeral. I sent notices to the paper. I thought a few of his regular customers would come or a few people he’d helped along the way would take a minute to pay their respects. But no one did.”
“I’m so sorry. But if he had stayed in that one place for years, it would have been different.”
“Possibly for the funeral, yes, but not the other. No one can live in a city long enough to know everybody.”
“But that’s part of what must be interesting about it. I mean, someone new is always around the corner, unlike here.” Lily waved her hand to the silent, near-dark town. “Other than Jake Doerfel buying the old newspaper last month, you were the first person to come here to stay permanently in an age.”
“And you and Theo stopped to help this stranger.”
“We knew who you were. Of course we helped Mrs. Twining’s great-nephew.”
“And you helped me because you both knew her.”
Lily wanted to argue with him, but words escaped her until they reached Mrs. Twining’s street.
“Ben, life isn’t all good in a small town. We have people here, and that means we have bad things happen. People get into fights and steal things. Someone stole my pocketbook right out of the telegraph office one day. I’d just gotten paid and didn’t have time to get to the bank. When I ran out to give a message to Theo to deliver, my money vanished.”
“That must have been rough on you.”
“More than rough. I had to eat into my savings to get by until my next pay. And I’m not a stranger here. I’ve lived in Browning City for three years. Everyone knows me because of the telegraph.”
“I think everyone knows you because of everything you do here.”
“Which is just what I’m saying.” Lily yanked her hand from his at last and curled her fingers into fists. “I am always organizing one function or another to make this town more entertaining, and I find ways to raise money for the school and church. . .and then someone steals from me.”
“Could it have been someone from the train and not a Browning City resident at all?”
“It. . .” Lily thought a moment. “I suppose it could have been.”
“And maybe they really needed that money. I’m not saying their action was right, but considering that money as a gift to the Lord instead of something taken from you helps.”
Lily took in his words and nodded. “It does. Ben, I. . .” She gazed up at him and wished she could see his face clearly. “I truly admire your faith in God. I could never have thought of things that way.”
He chuckled. “It’s easy to give others advice. I’d probably feel about the same as you if someone stole my pay.”
“Just put it in the bank immediately. The bankers are trustworthy here.”
“I know, but they’re both customers, so I don’t know which one to use.”
“Half to each?”
They laughed as they headed onto the porch.
Lily rested her hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Ben. Thank you.”
Ben brushed the knuckles of his gloved hand across her cheekbone. “Thank you, Lily.”
Before she could ask him for what he’d thanked her, he turned and strode down the walk to the street.
Lily slipped inside and locked the door behind her. But that was as far as she moved toward readying herself for sleep. Instead, she leaned against the door and listened to his footfalls dwindle into the distance.
When she no longer heard him, she tilted her face to heaven. “I know now that I am a poor Christian, Lord. I don’t know what to do about it yet, but I have a feeling I’m going to find out.”
She suspected that Ben would continue to play a role in showing her. Such a pity he wasn’t the right man to play a far different role in her life.
Seven
No matter how many times Ben examined the livery, he could not figure out how anyone could have hidden so much as a half eagle in the building, let alone an entire cache of stolen gold. Walls, floor, and roof consisted of boards fitted together with near seamless perfection. When his great-uncle built the livery, he’d constructed it to last through generations of Iowa winds and weather. Even Ben’s little room in the back demonstrated craftsmanship meant for longevity. If legend of the thieves having cached their illicit loot in the livery bore any fragment of truth, someone far more clever than Ben would have to work out how they’d accomplished the task.
He thought perhaps the thieves stowed it amid a collection of farm equipment gathering dust in one corner of the building. Mr. Gilchrist had said that soon after purchasing the livery he’d bought the equipment from Jim Mitchell, a farmer leaving the district. It was of little to no interest to Ben, so he turned his attention to the hayloft, but only briefly. One look around told him that nothing stashed up there would go unnoticed for months, let alone years.
No, the gold was not in the livery any more than it had been in any other locations treasure hunters had explored over the eleven years since the war ended and the money disappeared. He had no more chance of finding easy wealth than had anyone else.
Disappointment lay heavy on his heart. He didn’t long for a quick addition to his savings because he was lazy. He liked exerting himself, found great satisfaction in ending a day with the knowledge that he had wasted few to no minutes of his time. He liked the sensation of muscles fatigued from honest labor rather than aching from sitting still.
But he wanted to remain in Browning City. He had been here a month and knew he had found the place he had sought since growing old enough to realize that life on the road was not what most other folks experienced in their lives. Browning City was home. Perhaps he recalled something of the place from his childhood, though Great-Aunt Deborah pointed out how much the town had changed in twenty years. Two banks. Two general stores. A newspaper. Farmers had come and gone, prospered and failed, grown restless a
nd settled down to build the next generation.
Ben wanted to settle down and build the next generation—with Lily at his side.
Except Lily didn’t want to be at his side. She yearned for life beyond the rolling prairies of Iowa. She sought the faster pace of the city because it was as far from her homeland as a body could imagine.
Having spent much of his life moving from farmland to small town, from village to metropolis, Ben knew happiness did not lie in crowds and one entertainment after another. The pleasure was fleeting, leaving one emptier afterward than before. He suspected that Lily would learn this for herself once she had the experience. He feared she would suffer for insisting that she learned.
He didn’t want her to suffer. Lily Reese had seen too much pain in her life already. Ben wanted to give her joy, make her laugh, meet life’s challenges together.
“Thy will be done, Lord.” He meant what he said at the end of each prayer for his future. Yet at the same time, visions of a reward for locating government gold glittered in the corners of his mind.
With gold, he could have his own land while he was still young enough to work it hard and make it prosper. He could do more. He could provide his wife with occasional journeys to Chicago, enough so she would appreciate the camaraderie and caring of a small town.
Without the miracle of finding gold, Ben resigned himself to waiting while he saved enough from his wages to purchase land and observing Lily’s search for happiness in ceaseless activity.
Lily was involved in so many different activities Ben couldn’t keep them all straight. Easter egg hunt for the children. Easter egg hunt and party for adults. Something she called the spring bazaar. Each planning meeting and preparation seemed to take up her time to the exclusion of walking with him. She didn’t even stay in the parlor and visit when he called on Great-Aunt Deborah. After serving them coffee and cake or cookies, she escaped into the kitchen, her room, or to someone else’s home.
Ben suspected she was avoiding him.
The idea of that made him smile. She had to have some kind of feelings for him to make herself scarce whenever he was around.
As March slipped into its latter half, Ben grew weary of fleeting glimpses of Lily and even more rare conversations, despite their paths crossing during church and at the homes of mutual acquaintances. He took matters into his own hands. On a day warm enough to promise spring in the near future, in spite of heavy rainfall, a day too wet for anyone to be interested in riding, Ben took out one of the buggies and drove it toward the train station. All the way, riding with the top up, he scanned the road for a diminutive figure trudging through the mud.
He caught up with her halfway between railroad and town.
“Climb in.” He reined in beside her. “You’re drenched.”
She glanced up, and a stream of rain cascaded into her face. She wiped it away with a soaked sleeve. “Is something wrong? Mrs. Twining?”
“No, nothing’s wrong.”
She crossed her arms over her middle. “Then why are you here?”
“It’s raining. Business was slow at the livery.” He grinned at her. “I thought I could offer a pretty lady a ride under those circumstances.”
“You can. . . .” She laughed. “You know I can’t say no.” She took his hand, gathered up her skirt, and swung herself aboard. “I think you’re taking advantage of me, Mr. Purcell.”
“Mr. Purcell?” He handed her a dry rug to place over her knees before getting the horse going again. “I know you’ve been a stranger lately, but surely not that much.”
“I apologize.” She settled back against the seat while he turned the buggy back toward Browning City. “Some inspectors from Western Union were here all day, so I’ve been calling everyone, even Theo, ‘Mister.’ ”
“Is something wrong at the telegraph office?”
Ben’s gut tightened. If the company discontinued Browning City’s telegraph service, Lily would leave before he had a chance to change her mind about the town. Worse, it would confirm her belief that Browning City was too much of a backwater to endure any longer.
“I think all is well.” Lily tucked her hands inside her coat sleeves. “They were nice to me, but they wanted to see how fast I can key in a message.”
“Are you fast?”
“Compared to the other operators, yes, but I don’t know about the ones in the city offices where they get more messages.”
“Do you want to be faster than they are?” He held the horse to a slow, steady pace to make the drive last a handful of minutes longer.
“I like to be good at what I do.” She shifted on the seat so she faced him. “If nothing is wrong, why did you come fetch me?”
“It’s raining. And”—he gripped the reins—“I wanted a chance to see you.”
“Why?”
“I never get to see you anymore.”
She drew her golden brows together. “I saw you at church yesterday.”
“Saw me, yes. But you didn’t speak to me.”
“No, I didn’t.” She repositioned herself to face the curtain of rain sluicing off the buggy top in a silvery curtain. “We’re fortunate this isn’t snow.”
“And maybe you count yourself fortunate that this drive is so short.” He spoke more harshly than he intended but didn’t regret doing so.
He couldn’t stop her from evading him in the street or at church, but she didn’t need to switch the subject to the weather, something strangers might discuss in a railroad car, while riding in a buggy with him.
He tightened his hands on the reins and sent the horse careening around the last corner faster than prudent. A wheel slipped in the muddy street, and the buggy lurched.
Lily grasped the edge of the seat. “You’re angry with me.”
“I am annoyed.” He slowed the vehicle to a halt before Great-Aunt Deborah’s house. “I want to know what happened to the lady who was honest enough to admit she helped me out of selfishness.”
“You want me to admit to some other wrong to you? Because I won’t.” She glared up at him for a moment then turned away. “I haven’t done anything bad to you. I simply have other responsibilities and interests that don’t include you.”
“Is that the truth?”
She continued to gaze into the wet darkness.
“At least you aren’t telling more than one lie.”
She stiffened. “I never lied.”
“You exaggerate the truth, then.”
“I—maybe a little.” Her tone held the tiniest hint of a laugh.
“Much better.” He lifted a strand of damp hair from where it clung to her cheek. “May I ask why—in a warmer place than here?”
“Mrs. Twining has her ladies’ prayer meeting tonight. I usually attend, but if you insist, I guess you can come into the kitchen.”
“Don’t sound so unhappy about the prospect of my calling.”
“I don’t want you to call.” She flicked the rug aside, rose, and stepped down from the buggy without assistance. “I’m just being polite in letting you come by for coffee.”
“Thank you.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll be there at seven o’clock.”
“Seven thirty.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He watched her until she disappeared into the house; then he drove around to the livery. Horse and buggy dried as best as he could, and the former fed, he entered his quarters to prepare his simple meal of bread, cheese, and a rather withered apple from the previous year’s harvest. The two hours he had to wait dragged so long he took up one of the books that had gone with his father and him around the country. It was one of his mother’s books, something more appealing to females, he supposed, so he’d never read it. But, while waiting until he could see Lily, he grew so engrossed in the tale of a young woman and her foolish choices he realized he was going to be late.
He dropped the book onto the table and jumped up from the chair so fast he knocked it over. Leaving it where it lay, he snatched his coat from its hook by
the door and dashed into the night. Remembering he forgot to lock the door, he turned back, locked up, and sprinted through the rain.
At Great-Aunt Deborah’s house, he saw the shadows of several ladies through the lace curtains, so he circled the house to the back door.
Lily opened it before he raised his hand to knock. “You’re soaked, and the temperature is dropping. Come in and get warm by the fire.”
He gazed at Lily, her hair tied back with a ribbon, her gown a faded calico, and felt warmed already.
“You look really pretty,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.
“I look like a schoolgirl, but my hair was wet.”
“You look like a pretty lady to me.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “But you don’t want compliments from me.”
“I—” She compressed her lips. Then she raised her head and met his look with a twinkle in her eyes. “You already caught me nearly telling a fib tonight. I won’t tell another one by saying I don’t like compliments as much as the next female. But I will say that I’d rather you didn’t give them to me.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not staying here.” She turned toward the stove and picked up the coffeepot. “I’d best make more with those ladies out there.”
Without asking her, Ben began to take cups and saucers from the cupboard and set them on the table. He found spoons and set them beside the cups in perfect alignment with the coffee things. Did he have the correct side? Somewhere he had heard or read about a proper way to set things out. He didn’t recall what the procedure was. He simply concentrated on each detail until he knew he could make his tone casual when he asked, “When?”
“I have no idea.” She dipped water into the coffeepot. “Maybe as soon as May, after the plowing contest.”
“After the what?”
“A plowing contest. We have it every year at the same time as the spring bazaar.”
Something niggled at his mind.
“That’s right. Theo mentioned it my first day here, I think.” He drew out a chair. “Why don’t you tell me about it while the coffee boils?”
“It’s just what it sounds like.” She took the proffered seat. “Men from all over come. They pay a small fee; then they take a plow and see who can plow the straightest and fastest furrow down a field. It’s a cash prize.”
Better Than Gold Page 7
