Christmas at Stoney Creek

by Martha Rogers

  Ma nodded in satisfaction. “That’s good, but what have you heard about the new reporter?”

  “Her name is Gretchen O’Neal, and she’s the daughter of a friend of his and is also a graduate of the University of Texas. She’s been working on another paper until now.”

  “I’m glad Mr. Blake is hiring a woman. Women need more jobs like this.” Clara grinned and smoothed the front of her skirt.

  Ma picked up sewing. “I agree, Clara. Do you know anything else about her, Tom?”

  “Not much. She’s around twenty-seven, and she lost her job because her previous editor didn’t care for female reporters. I agree with your ideas about women as well, dear sister.”

  Her grin became a broad smile. “Thank you, Tom. This is truly a good thing since men usually don’t like to have women around a newspaper office.”

  Ma stabbed her needle into the pair of socks she darned. “Well, I think Mr. Blake is doing this town a favor. No telling, this state might yet allow women to vote.”

  When a knock on the door sounded, all conversation about the newspaper and its changes came to a halt. Clara greeted Theodore, and after speaking to her parents, they left. Mama and Papa returned to reading and sewing.

  Well, so much for the big news of the day for him. Life went on.

  Joe sat in the parlor with his fellow boarders after dinner. He’d learned this was their custom on weeknights for an hour after the meal when Mrs. Hutchins served coffee or tea. After that the ladies retired to their rooms, and the men sometimes stayed and conversed longer.

  Joe listened as the conversation continued from the dinner table. He’d been hearing about the new wire service and the expansion of the newspaper all day. If he hadn’t been so determined to keep his identity a secret, the news would have made no difference at all in his life. Now it posed a threat in that young Tom Whiteman would now be able to get news faster, and with his already obvious interest, the world Joe had left behind might be more available to the reporter than it would have before.

  Might have been best if he’d never met the young man and his family or let it slip that he’d come from Chicago. However, since Chicago wasn’t actually his home, he wouldn’t worry about that for now. After only a few days in Stoney Creek, Joe had come to love the good citizens of the town. Most everyone he’d met thus far had been friendly and welcoming to him. All but a few met the criteria he’d set up for his quest for true Christians who accepted people with open arms no matter what their station in life.

  Trouble was he hadn’t counted on meeting someone like Tom Whiteman. Joe had liked the young man immediately and admired his friendly nature. For now he’d let things go along as they were, but if Tom got too close to the truth, Joe would have a big decision to make. He’d be the one to make the decision as to how much of his past he’d reveal and when he’d do it, and not let Tom press him into any premature revelations.

  Mrs. Hutchins brought in the tray with coffee. “I am so glad that the newspaper is going to more editions. Maybe it will draw more people, and the more people we have in Stoney Creek, the better off all our merchants will be.”

  Herbert Spooner clapped his hands. “Hear, hear, Mrs. Hutchins. I wholeheartedly agree with that. Why, with all the growth we’ve been experiencing, I would imagine we’ll be seeing a bigger school, more businesses, and an extra train route or two. Yes, sir, the town of Stoney Creek is booming.”

  Miss Simmons said, “You are so right, Mr. Spooner. We have two connecting school buildings now that are already crowded. Families bringing children to our fair town means we’d have to expand and make it larger and maybe even get another teacher.”

  For the first time since Joe had met her, Josie Rivers actually smiled. “If our town grows, that means the library will too, and that is something I look forward to seeing. I love buying books and stocking our shelves with the latest editions and classics of all kinds.”

  Joe raised his eyebrows. Her love of books didn’t surprise him, but that smile had transformed Josie’s face from a sour prune to a ray of sunshine.

  Joe made mental notes of what his fellow lodgers said. A desire for bigger schools, a larger library, and expanded businesses revealed a thriving town. The more he heard, the more impressed Joe became. Stoney Creek looked to be a good place to spend some time and employ his talents.

  After supper Faith and her mother cleaned up the kitchen while Pa read the paper in the parlor. Faith placed a stack of plates on the shelf in the cupboard. “Clara told me that she and Theodore plan a Christmas wedding. Has Mrs. Whiteman said anything about refreshments for the reception after? I’m sure it’s going to be a big wedding what with Theodore being the mayor’s son and Clara the daughter of one of our most prominent families.”

  Mama paused, her hands still in the soapy water. “Yes, she has spoken with me, and we’re going to sit down and go over the refreshment list later this week. Ruby is eager to try out some new recipes, so I may propose them to the Gladstones if they turn out.”

  Faith hid her smile as she reached for the dessert plates to store away. “I imagine Aunt Ruby will be a big help.” It would be nice to have her aunt work with them for such an important occasion.

  “Yes, I love how she’s always trying new things. It keeps our work interesting.” She reached for the dish towel. “I hear someone at the front door. Do you want to answer it?”

  “Sure.” Faith untied her apron and hung it on the hook by the door. Maybe it was Tom, but then he had no reason to drop by. Nevertheless, she smoothed first her hair then her skirt before opening the door. To her delight she found Tom standing there poised to knock again.

  “Oh, Tom, I wasn’t expecting to see you.” She stepped back to welcome him into the parlor.

  Tom rolled his hat in his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to check before coming. If it’s a bad time, I understand.”

  “Of course not. You’re always welcome in our home.” Faith’s heart beat double-time. She didn’t care what his reason may be, as long as he’d come to see her.

  Her father laid down his paper, and Ma strolled in from the kitchen.

  “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Delmont. I . . . uh . . . I hope I’m not interrupting your evening.” Tom reached out to shake her father’s hand.

  “Land sakes, you’re not interrupting anything. Mr. Delmont and I were just planning to go into his study and go over our receipts for the day.” Mama nudged Papa’s arm. “Weren’t we, dear?”

  Papa scrambled to his feet. “Ah, yes, we were. It’s good to see you, Tom, and I’m pleased with the announcement from Mr. Blake today. It’ll be good getting more news more often.”

  “Thank you, sir. It means we’ll have more stories to write, and I will always like that.”

  Faith reached for Tom’s hat. “Here, I’ll hang that up for you. You’ll have to tell me all you’ll be doing now with the new wire service and more editions.”

  Mama grabbed Papa’s elbow. “Well, we’ll leave you to your visit. There’s pie left from supper and coffee still in the pot warming on the stove if you care for any refreshment later.”

  Papa shrugged his shoulders and grinned as he left the room, guided by Mama’s strong hand. Faith swallowed a giggle at her mother’s not-so-subtle means of giving her and Tom some time alone. She sat on the sofa, and Tom joined her. “Now tell me what new things you’ll be doing at the newspaper.”

  Tom’s face lit up and his eyes sparkled. “Well, it means I’ll have more national news as well as state news to cover and write about now. With the new girl coming, Mr. Blake will have the sports scene as his main reporting along with the editorials. That suits him just fine.”

  Just what this town needed . . . another woman. “Tell me about this new girl, Gretchen O’Neal. I hear she has a university degree.”

  “Yes, she does, and her father is a friend of Mr. Blake. She’s about four years older than we are.”

  At least Tom wasn’t showing any interest in Miss O’Neal, and tha
t suited Faith just fine. Having Angela as competition was enough for any girl to bear.

  Tom furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. “Um, I have another matter I’d like to run past you. What do you think of Joe?”

  Faith cocked her head. That was the last question she expected. “What do you mean? I think he’s a nice old man, especially since he’s cleaned himself up.”

  “Well, I think that too, but there’s something about him that seems a little strange. I mean, I listen to him talk and watch him with other people. His way of speaking and his manners don’t match up to a homeless old man with no means of support.”

  “Oh, I see. I’ve noticed that sometimes he does speak as though he’s quite well educated, but other times he doesn’t. He is extremely polite, and his manners are well above average for a tramp.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry, that does sound rather snobbish. He may have come from a very nice home and background and simply fallen on hard times.”

  “I’ve thought that might be the case. I wish there was some way to find out more about him. He said he’s from Chicago, but that’s a large city, and unless he committed a crime and is running from the law, I don’t see how I can learn any more about him. For all we know, he may not even be using his real name or his real home.”

  “Sheriff Bolton may be the place to start. Then you can know for sure whether or not he’s a wanted man. As for finding out his real name, if Joe isn’t it, that will be a real challenge. If he stays in town long enough, he might slip and say something to one of the boarders at Miss Emma’s.”

  “Maybe so, but Mrs. Hutchins isn’t about to tell anyone anything about her boarders.” He tapped his chin. “But Josie Rivers might. She may not be the friendliest woman in town, but not much gets by her, and she’s always curious about other people. Maybe I can interview her for a story about the town library and get her impressions.”

  Faith reached over and placed her hand on Tom’s forearm. “Be careful about that. It would be terrible if she found out you were only doing a story to get information about something else out of her. She may be a little unfriendly, but she does have feelings.”

  He patted her hand. “I won’t hurt her feelings, I promise. I really will do a story on her and the library. It’s one of the best things about this town anyway. In the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open whenever you’re around him too.”

  He stood. “Tell your mother I’ll take her up on that pie some other time. I need to get back home now and think about how I can go about getting information about Joe. You’ve been a big help, and I thank you.”

  “I didn’t really do much, Tom.” She scurried after him as he headed for the hall tree to retrieve his hat.

  At the door he stopped and grinned at her. “You know, we might make a pretty good team. Thanks for the talk.” With that he shoved his hands into his pockets and loped down the stairs and off into the night.

  Faith stood in the doorway, staring after his departing figure. Yes, they would make a good team, but just not the kind of team he meant. Maybe working with him on the mystery of Joe would draw them closer, and Tom would see her as more than an old friend. She closed the door and leaned against it. Well, a girl could dream, couldn’t she?

  CHAPTER 7

  BY THE END of the workweek Tom had made no progress in his pursuit of information about Joe Fitzgerald. Sighing, Tom leaned back in his chair and placed his palms behind his head and his feet on the bookcase nearby. The man had arrived in Stoney Creek a week ago, and he still remained a mystery. Tom had wired the Chicago papers asking about anyone from there with the old man’s name, but so far he’d heard nothing. Not that he’d expected any return. With over a million people, who had time to worry about one little man?

  Maybe Joe would come to dinner at the Whiteman house this Sunday. It was Ma’s day to host the family meal after church. With the weather still being somewhat mild for October, they’d set up tables outdoors. He’d like to get Micah’s impressions about Joe. His uncle had an uncanny knack for reading people.

  A train whistle blasted, and Tom slammed his feet on the ground and grabbed his jacket. Gretchen O’Neal was due to arrive on the train, and he sure didn’t want to miss that.

  “I’m glad to see you taking an interest. Mind if I join you in the walk to the station?” Mr. Blake closed his office door and shrugged on his suit coat.

  “Don’t mind at all. Hope she’s as nice as you say she is.”

  “Oh, she’s that and so much more.” He strode ahead of Tom to the door and out to the sidewalk. Mr. Blake’s grin held more than a simple compliment. “Well, don’t dillydally. Let’s go. Mrs. Blake will be waiting for us.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tom jammed his hat onto his head and followed his boss.

  They arrived at the station a minute or so ahead of the train. Tom glanced around at the crowd there on the platform. Either a lot of new people were coming into town, or Miss O’Neal had created a great deal of curiosity among the good people of Stoney Creek. With all the talk during the week, the latter probably prevailed.

  The train whistle shrilled its approach and metal ground against metal as the train coasted to a halt. Several people stepped down into the waiting embrace of family or friends. Tom craned his neck to keep an eye on the train steps. The air left his lungs in a gasp when a woman filled the doorway.

  Dressed in royal blue from her head to her toes, she stopped with her hand on the door rail and gazed out over the crowd. Mr. Blake called her name, and the blonde vision’s eyes lit up and a smile that dazzled like the sun spread across her face. If her brains matched her beauty, the newspaper couldn’t help but flourish. Besides that, every eligible male in town would be burning up Mr. Blake’s doorstep. Tom swallowed hard when she stepped off the train in one fluid motion as smooth as the silk of her dress.

  Mrs. Blake wrapped her arms around Miss O’Neal. “Welcome to Stoney Creek, my dear Gretchen. We’ve all anticipated your arrival.” She then stepped back to allow her husband to speak to the young woman.

  “I’d like to introduce you to your fellow reporter.” Mr. Blake guided her over to where Tom stood. “Miss O’Neal, this is Tom Whiteman, our state and national news reporter.”

  She extended her hand toward Tom, and he wrapped it in his. “We’re pleased to have you join us, Miss O’Neal.”

  Her hand, as soft as kitten fur, slipped from his. “Thank you.”

  Tom breathed deeply of the faintly sweet scent of rose water emanating from Miss O’Neal.

  She continued. “I’m pleased to meet you, and do call me Gretchen. Since we’ll be working together, I see no need to be so formal.”

  Her smile revealed perfect white teeth and created a sparkle in her deep blue eyes.

  Tom shook his head to clear it. “Yes, I . . . I suppose that would be easier.”

  She laughed and turned to Mrs. Blake. They locked arms and headed toward the Blake carriage. Tom stared after the two women. How had a beauty like Gretchen managed to escape marriage or at least being spoken for? Most likely her career came before any thoughts of courtship or marriage. Just as well, because from the admiring glances directed her way, Miss O’Neal had already made an impression on the town. But to Tom she was too old and almost too beautiful. He found himself somewhat intimidated.

  Mr. Blake chuckled beside Tom. “Gretchen is a beautiful girl who is just as beautiful on the inside. She’ll be a great asset to our news staff.”

  “I believe you’re right, Mr. Blake. I’m sure everyone will welcome her to Stoney Creek.” However, it remained to be seen whether Tom would welcome her presence on the staff of the newspaper. Working with a woman, especially a beautiful woman, would be different indeed.

  Faith stopped on the sidewalk across the street from the train station. A very attractive young woman accompanied Mrs. Blake as they walked away from the station platform. This must be the new reporter everyone had been talking about. Faith shook her head and blew out her breath. Just what this town
needed—another other beautiful woman to vie for the attentions of the male population of Stoney Creek.

  Then a grin spread across her face as Deputy Sheriff Jeb Cooper all but ran up to the two women as they neared the Blakes’ carriage. He swept off his hat and nodded to the ladies. His greeting carried across to where Faith stood.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Blake, and welcome to Stoney Creek, Miss O’Neal.”

  Mrs. Blake laughed. “Good afternoon to you too, Deputy Cooper.” Then she turned to the girl. “Gretchen, dear, this is Jeb Cooper, deputy for our Sheriff Bolton.”

  “Thank you, Deputy Cooper. Everyone has been so warm in welcoming me to your town.”

  He reached for her elbow. “Here, let me assist you up into the carriage.”

  A figure emerged from around the corner and sped to the carriage. Herbert Spooner slid to a stop and frowned at the deputy. Faith clutched her stomach to keep from laughing. Competition already for the fair lady’s hand.

  Both men glared at one another, but since Jeb already held her arm, he assisted Miss O’Neal into the carriage. Not to be outdone, Herbert Spooner did the same for Mrs. Blake, who appeared to be working her mouth to keep from laughing as well. When the ladies were seated, the deputy hastened to untie the harness from the rail, and Mrs. Blake picked up the reins.

  “Thank you both, and a good day to you.” She clicked her tongue and flipped the reins to urge the horses forward.

  The two men stood in the middle of the street still glaring at one another. Finally Jeb Cooper turned on his heel and headed back to the sheriff’s office. Mr. Spooner turned the opposite direction to the bank.

  Faith spotted Tom and waved. He grinned and waved back, and then made his way across the street. When he stood next to her, he chuckled. “Well, it seems Miss O’Neal has made quite an impression on our town in only a few minutes.”

  “I don’t blame Jeb and Mr. Spooner for their interest. She’s quite a beautiful woman.” Faith narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “You didn’t show any interest, or are you just biding your time?”