Love's Sweet Beginning

by Ann Shorey

  After gathering her carpetbag, she accepted the conductor’s assistance and descended the steps into the muggy afternoon. As soon as she stood on the platform, the train rolled forward and began its turnaround in the wye junction. Steam shot from beneath the wheels. The bell clanged.

  Cassie waited a moment, hoping the sounds would bring someone to meet her. Men on horseback passed by on the wide street. A black-and-white spotted dog lay panting in the shade under the boardwalk. A puff of wind stirred the dust, then subsided.

  She lifted her skirt above the toes of her boots and marched across to the restaurant. When she pushed open the door, Gus lumbered out of the kitchen, a cigar stub protruding from one corner of his mouth.

  “Supper’s not ready. Come back in an hour.” The cigar bobbed between his lips when he spoke.

  She dropped her carpetbag at her feet. “I’m not here for a meal. I’m hoping you can tell me where Rand Carter lives. I’m Mrs. Bingham’s daughter—Rand Carter’s niece. I was here with my mother last month.”

  “Thought you looked familiar.” He scratched his belly. “Likely you can find your ma at Miz Gilforth’s. Pretty sure she ain’t at Rand’s.”

  Cassie swallowed impatience. She suspected he was one of those people who slowed down in proportion to how hard she pushed. Keeping her voice sweet, she asked, “Then will you please direct me to Mrs. Gilforth’s home?”

  “Reckon I can. Across the next street over you’ll come to the schoolhouse. Then go some more. When you see a two-story place that could use a good coat of paint, you found it. Sign out front says Gilforth’s Board and Room.”

  “Why would my mother be in a boardinghouse?”

  Using his lips, he maneuvered the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “Best ask your ma.”

  “I intend to. Thank you for your time.” She grasped the handle of the carpetbag and stepped back into the merciless sunshine. Across to the schoolhouse and go some more. What kind of directions were those? “Some more” could be twenty feet, or twenty miles.

  Wishing she’d remembered to bring her parasol, she walked until she saw the school, then paused and looked up and down the street. Perspiration trickled from under her bonnet. Several houses to the west, she noticed a two-story building, the only one within view.

  Her boot heels tapped on the boardwalk as she covered the distance from the school to the house. Gray showed through faded white paint on the clapboard siding, and a sign by the front door stated GILFORTH’S BOARD AND ROOM.

  Still wondering what reason her mother had to be in a rooming house, Cassie climbed the four steps to the covered porch and rapped on the knocker. After a few seconds, she heard footsteps, then the door opened.

  A woman with hair redder than Mother’s stood in the entrance. Her cheeks were bright with rouge, and her ears glittered with ruby-colored earbobs. “If you’re looking for a room, honey, I’m filled up right now.”

  Cassie tried not to stare. “The man at the restaurant told me I’d find my mother here. Her name’s Eliza Bingham.”

  “Well, sure enough she’s here. You must be Cassie. I’m Claramae Gilforth.” She pulled a man’s gold watch from her pocket and clicked open the lid. “My land, we forgot the time. Your ma and I planned to meet you, but we got busy with laundry in the kitchen.” She stepped aside. “Come on in.”

  As soon as Cassie entered, Mrs. Gilforth hurried toward the rear of the house. “I’ll fetch your ma,” she called over her shoulder.

  Faded wallpaper did little to brighten the dim entryway. Cassie set her carpetbag next to a coat rack, then perched on a bench to await her mother. In her most far-fetched imaginings, she wouldn’t have pictured Mother in such a setting. Why she wasn’t in Uncle Rand’s house was one mystery—why she was here helping with laundry was another.

  26

  Cassie blinked and took a second look as her mother dashed toward her across the entryway. With her sleeves rolled to the elbows and a voluminous apron wrapped around her middle, Mother resembled Jenny Fielder—except for the hennaed hair.

  “My sweet girl! I’m so sorry I didn’t meet your train.” She held out her arms.

  Cassie stepped into her embrace, nestling close. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her mother’s presence until this moment. “Mrs. Gilforth said you were busy in the kitchen. Whatever were you doing there?”

  Mother’s face flushed. She tugged at her sleeves, then buttoned them at the wrist. “Just lending a hand. Claramae’s been kind enough to cook a small supper for my birthday tonight.”

  “But why are you here? Why aren’t you at home with Uncle Rand?”

  “I wrote you that Reverend Greeley suggested I befriend Claramae. You might say this has become my second home. You’ll share my room tonight.” She fumbled with the ties on her apron, avoiding Cassie’s eyes. “Rand’s gone most of the time. He’s in Price City right now.”

  Cassie struggled to absorb the information. Mother didn’t have the funds to stay in a boardinghouse. That’s why she’d gone to such lengths to live with Uncle Rand.

  Then an unwelcome thought pressed into Cassie’s mind—was she expected to settle a bill with Mrs. Gilforth? She had last week’s salary in her handbag, but with her own rent coming due, she couldn’t risk spending her money on Mother’s boardinghouse fees.

  “I . . . I hate to ask, but is Uncle Rand paying for your stay here?”

  Mother patted Cassie’s cheek. “We’ll talk about this after the party.” She headed toward a steep flight of stairs. “Come, let’s get you freshened up before supper. You’ll be glad to know Mr. Fitzhugh will be attending.”

  Cassie swallowed a groan. An entire evening spent in his company would make her anything but glad. She prayed there’d be enough guests to form a barrier between the two of them.

  “My dear Miss Haddon. You’ve scarcely touched this wonderful meal. If my mother were the cook, she’d forbid you any dessert.” Mr. Fitzhugh faced her across the table, where he sat beside Reverend Greeley. He regarded her with a smug expression. “I’m sure Mrs. Gilforth has something delectable waiting.”

  Ignoring Mr. Fitzhugh’s comments, she turned to the landlady, who sat at the foot of the table. “I do apologize for my lack of appetite. This has been a tiring day.”

  Much to her disappointment, her prayers for a large gathering hadn’t been answered. Mr. Fitzhugh and Reverend Greeley were the sole guests. Mr. Fitzhugh talked throughout the meal, while the reverend maintained a watchful silence. She squirmed under his constant scrutiny.

  Mrs. Gilforth’s earbobs sparkled in the light from the overhead lamp. “Don’t you worry, honey. You’re not going to miss dessert on your mama’s birthday. I baked a special rose geranium cake.”

  “I recall you were especially fond of rose geranium.” Mother reached for Cassie’s hand. “You used to ask for this cake on every birthday.”

  “I remember. Thank you.”

  Cassie sensed unease beneath her mother’s cheerful façade. She prayed Uncle Rand would return soon. Surely he hadn’t left her here to fend for herself.

  Once Mrs. Gilforth served the dessert, Cassie avoided the watchful stares from across the table by keeping her gaze fixed on her plate while she savored each fluffy bite of pink icing and delicate white cake. As Mother remembered, it was her favorite. But the minute she lifted her head, Mr. Fitzhugh leaned toward her.

  “There’s still enough daylight left for a stroll. I’d like to show you the schoolhouse.”

  “I really should help Mrs. Gilforth with the washing up.”

  “Nonsense, honey. You young folks go on and enjoy yourselves.” The landlady beamed at them as though they were well-loved children.

  “You two need to get better acquainted.” Reverend Greeley leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. “There are too many miles between you.”

  Her heart thrummed. She’d hoped Mr. Fitzhugh’s offer of friendship meant he’d dismissed the idea that, as Garrett’s brother, he wa
s obligated to marry her. Apparently Reverend Greeley had other thoughts. She glanced at her mother and caught her exchanging a pleased smile with him. No help there.

  She squared her shoulders. A few minutes this evening wouldn’t hurt anything. After all, tomorrow afternoon she’d return to Noble Springs. If Mr. Fitzhugh raised the subject of marriage while they were alone tonight, she’d have the perfect opportunity to remind him she had no intention of becoming his wife.

  “All right. For a short while.”

  He hurried to her side. “Thank you. I hoped you’d agree.”

  After they excused themselves, he hustled her out the door and onto the boardwalk. Fireflies circled under a scrubby oak tree next to the rooming house. Crickets chirped. If the temperature were a bit cooler, an evening walk would be tolerable. Cassie fanned herself with her hand.

  He turned his back on the fiery sunset and grasped her elbow. “The school’s this way. I thought you might be interested to see where I spend my days when classes are in session.”

  The man was harder to discourage than a muddy dog. She tightened her jaw. “Really, Mr. Fitzhugh, I have no interest in knowing where you spend your days.”

  His head jerked up. “Miss Haddon, are you quite yourself?”

  “Please forgive me for being blunt. I came here to be with my mother on her birthday, and that’s the only reason. From what she’s written, you and the reverend have been faithful visitors since she arrived. I do appreciate that, but come fall I expect you’ll be too busy.”

  He squeezed her elbow. “I’ll never be too busy for your mother. The poor woman is lonely here without you. Especially now, since her brother has left.”

  “Left? You mean permanently?” She swung around to face him. “I had the impression he was only away for a day or so.”

  “Perhaps I’ve spoken out of turn.” His face flushed. “I’m sure your mother will explain.”

  “She hasn’t said a word. Why didn’t you tell me this when you were in Noble Springs last week?” She pivoted forward and strode toward the schoolhouse, her heels rapping on the boardwalk. Crickets ceased their song when she marched by.

  He hurried to catch up with her. “I thought you knew.”

  “Apparently I’m the only one who’s ignorant of my mother’s circumstances.” She bit off the words. To spend the day traveling, then to learn from Mr. Fitzhugh, of all people, that her mother was alone in Calusa . . .

  She leaned against the schoolhouse gate. “I feel quite weary all of a sudden. Would you please escort me back to Mrs. Gilforth’s?”

  Cassie planted herself in front of the window in her mother’s small bedroom, hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me Uncle Rand left? I’d have come to get you.”

  Mother sank onto the single chair next to the door. “To live in that little cabin while you slave away for Mr. West? It pains me to see you living such a dismal life.”

  “I manage my own bake shop in the kitchen. Customers request my pies.”

  “You were raised to be a lady, not a cook.”

  Cassie took several deep breaths to push the hurt away. “I hoped you’d be proud of me.” Her voice wavered.

  “I’ll be proud the day you make a good match. Reverend Greeley believes Patrick Fitzhugh—”

  “No more about Mr. Fitzhugh, please. Just tell me what you plan for yourself. If you don’t want to return to Noble Springs, what will you do?”

  A calculating expression crossed her mother’s face. “Rand said he’d make room for me in Price City if I could find a way to get there. He’s opening a travelers’ hotel. When the rail line is complete, he’ll be ready.”

  Shoulders sagging, Cassie realized she’d been manipulated. “Why didn’t he take you along when he left?”

  “He traveled in a wagon with a work crew. Hardly the situation for a lady.”

  “So you want me to arrange for the stage to take you to Price City.”

  “And travel with me. You know I don’t feel safe traveling alone.”

  The lamp on the bureau burned low, sending a coil of oily smoke into the stuffy room. Cassie stared out at the few lights that burned in windows across the street. She’d promised Jacob she’d return on tomorrow’s train. If she traveled with Mother to Price City, she’d likely be gone for several more days.

  Becca hadn’t been hired as a baker. If her pies didn’t meet customer’s standards, then there’d be no customers by the time Cassie returned. She leaned her forehead against the window. Disappoint Jacob? Disappoint their customers? Or disappoint her mother? She turned away from the glass.

  “All right. I’ll take you to Price City.”

  27

  The next morning, Cassie entered a shack next to the railroad platform and waited for the telegrapher to acknowledge her presence. After several seconds of rapid clicking on the key, he leaned back in his chair. “You want something?”

  “I’d like to send a telegraph to Noble Springs, please.”

  “Well, you come to the right place.” Chuckling at his own humor, he raked his fingers through his sand-colored hair. “First of all, who’re you sending it to?”

  “Jacob West, at West & Riley’s Grocery.” She winced at the thought of Jacob’s reaction to her telegram. If Uncle Rand had stayed put, in a few hours she’d have been headed home on the train, not on her way farther west in a stagecoach.

  He scribbled Jacob’s name on a piece of paper. “Message?”

  “Taking Mother to Price City. Home as soon as possible. Sign it ‘Cassie.’”

  “Why not say, ‘home soonest’? Save you three words.”

  “Fine. Whatever you think best.”

  After copying her message onto the paper, he held out his creased palm. “That’ll be eighty cents. I’ll send this right away.”

  Eighty cents. And she had yet to buy tickets for tomorrow’s trip on the thrice-weekly coach. She took a deep breath and dug in her handbag for the coins.

  On Friday, Cassie and her mother stood near the entrance to the restaurant while the stage driver hefted Mother’s trunk to the top of the coach.

  “You ladies traveling alone?” he asked, with a leer in Cassie’s direction.

  She lifted her chin. “Yes, we—” She wheeled around at the thudding of footsteps on the boardwalk.

  Mr. Fitzhugh pounded up to the driver. “D’you have room for another passenger?”

  “Could be.” The man directed a stream of tobacco juice at the ground. “Where you headed?”

  “Price City. I’ll be escorting these ladies.”

  Cassie jammed her hands on her hips. “Mr. Fitzhugh. We didn’t ask for your company.”

  “Please, call me Patrick. Reverend Greeley suggested I come along.” He removed his hat with a flourish and bowed. The sun glistened on his oiled blond hair. “That way you won’t be alone when you return.”

  Mother fluttered to his side. “You’re the most thoughtful young man. We’ll appreciate an escort. Don’t you agree, Cassie?”

  “Since Mr. Fitzhugh is willing to make the trip, why don’t you have him accompany you so I can return to Noble Springs?”

  “And miss an opportunity to spend time together? If we have an escort, we can enjoy the scenery and not worry about our safety.” Mother directed her gaze toward the driver to underscore her meaning.

  Cassie glanced at him. His grubby black hat cast shadows over his unshaven face. Perhaps an escort would be a good idea, but why didn’t Reverend Greeley accompany them himself?

  She knew the answer.

  The prospect of spending seven or more hours in Mr. Fitzhugh’s company—she would not call him Patrick—stretched ahead like a bad dream. She felt herself slipping back into the old Cassie—the girl who agreed with everyone and had no opinions of her own.

  Then she thought about her job in the restaurant. With the Lord’s help, she’d accomplished much since arriving in Noble Springs. He’d see her through this next challenge as well.

  She turned to Mr. Fit
zhugh. “If you insist, we will accept an escort for propriety’s sake. Mother and I will wait inside the coach while you pay your fare.” Turning her back, she held out her hand to the driver. “Would you please assist us?”

  Cassie sat next to her mother as the stagecoach rattled over uneven ground. Patrick Fitzhugh rode on the seat facing them. At first, he’d attempted conversation, but after a half hour or so of bouncing and swaying in the stifling coach, he subsided.

  To avoid his gaze, she stared out the window opening at the flat land rolling past with monotonous sameness. When she thought she couldn’t stand another mile of jostling, the stage jangled and creaked to a stop in the midst of a forlorn group of houses.

  Beyond the main road, laborers pounded spikes through rails into crossties. The clang of their sledges played a rhythmic chorus across the settlement. Other workers hunched over shovels as they dug holes to erect telegraph poles. Soon, trains would travel this far west and eliminate the need for uncomfortable stagecoaches.

  The driver swung open the door. “This here’s Delion Junction. Got to change horses.” He pointed to a frame house with a corral at one side. “You go on in. They’ll feed you before we go on to Price City.”

  Cassie peered at the humble building, wondering whether she felt hungry enough to risk whatever the owner might serve.

  The driver worked a wad of tobacco from his cheek to the front of his mouth and spat on the ground beside the coach. He held out his hand to her. “Step lively. This ain’t supposed to take all day.”

  She grasped his rough palm and fitted her foot to the tiny rung below the door. After her feet touched the ground, he repeated the action with her mother, then stepped back and waited for Mr. Fitzhugh to descend.

  “You take the ladies inside and get ’em settled at the table. We’ll stop for about twenty minutes.” He climbed up on the driver’s bench and guided the horses toward the corral.