Love's Sweet Beginning

by Ann Shorey

  “Lizzie? Catching on? Why, she—”

  The crash of breaking glass interrupted him.

  “Oh my heavens! I dropped my tea. I’ll get the broom.” Mother jumped out of her chair and dashed for the kitchen.

  Cassie hurried after her. “Let me help.”

  “Nonsense. You go ahead with your packing. I’ll have this cleaned up in a jiffy.”

  Shaking her head, Cassie wondered again at the change in her mother. Three days in the hotel kitchen seemed to have transformed her into a new person—one she didn’t recognize.

  Patrick joined her as she passed through the sparsely furnished lobby on the way to her room. His bright smile gleamed in the lamplight. “Would you like to join me on a farewell stroll along the street?”

  She hugged her arms to her waist. Much as she’d appreciated his protection, he mustn’t get the wrong impression about their circumstances.

  “No, thank you. I’m rather tired this evening.”

  “Quite understandable, after the long days in your uncle’s kitchen.” He touched his finger to his forehead in a mock salute. “I’ll see you when the stage arrives.”

  “Yes.” Seven hours to Calusa, then the train to Noble Springs and Jacob. She sped down the hall to her room. One more day.

  Pounding on the bedroom door roused Cassie the next morning. Mother had already left for the kitchen. Why was Uncle Rand knocking? He knew she was leaving today.

  “Cassie! Hurry! You’ll miss the stage.” Patrick’s voice cut through her drowsiness.

  She swung her feet to the floor and grabbed her wrapper. After opening the door a cautious crack, she peered into the hall. Patrick faced her, a valise at his feet.

  Clutching the wrapper close at her throat, she asked, “What do you mean, ‘miss the stage’? It’s way too early.”

  “It’s after seven. He’s right on time.”

  Cassie jolted wide awake. “Uncle Rand lied to me! He said the coach came through at nine.” Her pounding heart threatened to choke her. “Please . . .” She drew a ragged breath. “Please ask the driver to wait five minutes. I’ll be there.”

  “I’ll do my best. He’s already been waiting. I told him you’d be along any minute. Your mother and uncle are out front with him.”

  She frowned at the mention of her lying uncle. If Patrick hadn’t knocked, she’d have been stranded for another two days.

  “Tell the driver I’m hurrying.” She banged the door shut and threw off her night things, jamming them into the carpetbag. Thankful that she’d sponged her taffeta dress clean the night before, she laced her stays, stepped into her crinolines, and dropped the dress over her head. With no time to comb out her hair, she gathered her nighttime braid and looped it in a circle at the base of her neck. Quick pins held the hasty coiffure in place. Her bonnet completed the preparations.

  Clutching her bag, she threw open the door and dashed the length of the hall, praying the stagecoach still waited out front.

  When she pushed through the entrance, she bumped into a young man who looked as though he’d ridden into Price City behind a herd of cows.

  “Whoa there!” He tipped his hat and sent her a flirtatious grin. “I’m not used to waiting while ladies primp, but I’d say you’re worth it.”

  She glanced between him and the stage. “You’re the driver? What happened to the man who brought us here from Calusa?”

  “He up and quit. Said he’s going to St. Louis to find something better to do than eat dust all day.” He held out his hand for her bag. “Soon as you’re inside, we’ll go.”

  “One more minute, please.” She stalked over to her uncle. “You said the stage didn’t leave until nine. If you think stranding me here is going to make me want to work for you, you’re quite mistaken.” Her voice shook.

  Uncle Rand glowered down at her. “Fine thing, when a man’s own family can’t be bothered to lift a finger to help him.”

  Her mother stepped between them. “Now, Cassie. Don’t be upset with Rand. You know how much he wants you to stay—and so do I.” She tugged a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “You’re going to be so far away. My only comfort is knowing you’ll have Patrick to look after you.”

  Cassie stiffened. “We’ll be together until we reach Calusa. That’s all.”

  “Of course.” Mother kissed her cheek, then turned to smile at Patrick, who stood next to the coach step. “Give Reverend Greeley my best.”

  “Indeed I will.” He beckoned to Cassie. “Come. It’s time to get inside.”

  She tightened her lips at his peremptory tone. One reminder of Reverend Greeley and helpful Patrick became haughty Mr. Fitzhugh.

  Last evening’s clouds hung like gray laundry over the landscape. As she walked toward the stagecoach, she prayed rain wouldn’t delay their journey. If she figured correctly, they’d reach Calusa in time for her to board the train to Noble Springs.

  Tomorrow morning she’d see Jacob.

  When Patrick helped her through the door of the coach, her heart sank at the sight of an overweight couple occupying the forward-facing bench. She’d hoped she and Patrick would be the only passengers, so she could have one of the seats to herself.

  The plump man’s bulbous nose shone red, as though polished. The woman, whom Cassie assumed was his wife, held a large basket on her lap. The contents were covered with a blue-striped cloth, but from the aroma that filled the small coach, Cassie believed they carried enough food to last the journey and beyond.

  She settled on the empty bench, scooting as far as she could to one side when Patrick took the space next to her. She folded her arms across her middle and sighed. This was going to be a long trip.

  The coach bounced as the driver climbed up to his perch. With a snap of a whip and a holler at the team, they lurched into motion. Once underway, Cassie offered a polite smile to the woman sitting across from her. “Are you traveling far?”

  “Far enough. Too far, some might say.” She rested a hard look on her husband.

  “Now, Emma—” A cough interrupted his statement. He coughed again, then pulled a dingy handkerchief from his coat pocket and honked a mighty blow into its soiled depths.

  Cassie recoiled, praying the man wasn’t consumptive. She placed her gloved hand over her mouth and nose.

  “You don’t want to make Otis talk,” Emma said. “He coughs.” She leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes.

  “I’ll remember that.” Cassie glanced to her left and caught Patrick’s sympathetic gaze.

  He reached inside his jacket and removed a pristine white handkerchief. “Perhaps you’d like to borrow this.” He pitched his voice low.

  “Thank you.” She took the offering, noting the initials PF embroidered in scrolling letters on one corner. “This looks like my mother’s handiwork.”

  “Indeed it is. The dear lady has been gracious enough to monogram several of these for me.”

  Cassie almost groaned. Her mother was drawing Patrick into their lives with every stitch. She turned her head and stared out the window. Somehow there had to be a way to mend the gap between Mother and Jacob. But with Mother now living in Price City, the gap had grown wider.

  The coach swayed and rattled along the road, the journey punctuated by bouts of Otis’s coughing. Halfway to Calusa, Cassie’s fears about the weather were realized when the sky split open and the temperature plummeted. Canvas coverings over the windows did little to protect them from blowing rain.

  She scooted toward the center of the bench seat in an effort to stay dry, wishing she’d brought more than a shawl as a wrap.

  Patrick slipped out of his frock coat and held out the garment. “You’re cold. Cover yourself with this.”

  “No, thank you. Then you’ll be cold.”

  “I insist.” He moved until their thighs touched. Leaning forward, close enough for her to smell the spicy pomade on his hair, he draped his coat over her shoulders.

  In spite of the warmth of
the garment, she froze under his contact, conscious of his nearness within the close confines of the coach.

  A wounded look crossed his face. He moved back, resting his hands on his knees. “You needn’t fear me. I want to protect you, not harm you.”

  “I don’t fear you, but I don’t like you hovering over me.”

  “You didn’t object when I helped you in your uncle’s dining room.”

  “Patrick, I—”

  She noticed Otis watching them with ill-concealed interest and swallowed the remainder of her sentence.

  “Perhaps we can finish our discussion later.” She shifted her position to peer out at the downpour through a gap in the canvas.

  Patrick blew out an exasperated breath. “As you wish,” he muttered.

  Otis bent forward, wracked by a spasm of coughing. His wife roused and handed him a flask from the basket on her lap. “Here, this will help.”

  He took a swig, then coughed again.

  Cassie clutched Patrick’s handkerchief to her nose to smother the odor of spirits that blew in her direction. The promise of Jacob waiting in Noble Springs glimmered like a beacon on a distant horizon. Would this journey never end?

  Cassie rose as soon as the stage driver opened the door in front of Calusa’s only restaurant. They’d left the rain squall behind at some point, and the boardwalk and streets appeared as dry and dusty as they’d been when she left.

  She nodded a courteous farewell to their traveling companions, grateful to be free of Otis’s hacking cough, then turned to Patrick.

  “Please, help me down. I need to learn whether the train has left yet.”

  Patrick held out his hand to assist her. “Allow me to inquire for you. I’ll only be a moment. You wait here.”

  “No thank you. I can manage a simple question by myself. I believe the driver is waiting for you to collect your valise.” Clutching her carpetbag, she strode across the street and entered the telegrapher’s shack.

  “Excuse me, sir.”

  The telegrapher raised his eyebrows when he recognized her. “You was here last Thursday. You needing to send another message?”

  For a moment, she debated. Assuming she hadn’t missed the train, she could send a telegram informing Jacob she was on her way home, or she could simply surprise him by arriving at work in the morning. She smiled to herself. She’d surprise him.

  She met the man’s inquiring gaze. “No, I don’t believe so—that is, if the train east hasn’t already left.”

  “Nope, it hasn’t.” He snapped open a pocket watch. “You got another few minutes or so—she’s running slow today. Lots of freight to unload.”

  “Thank you so much. That’s what I was hoping to hear.”

  “You care about freight?”

  “No, I care about going home.” She whisked out of the building and stood near the edge of the platform, watching a plume of smoke on the horizon grow larger as the train approached.

  Patrick jogged across the dusty boards and faced her when the engine roared into the station. Panting, he dropped his bag at his feet. “I’ll accompany you to Noble Springs to be sure you’re safe.”

  “No, thank you. I don’t require an escort.”

  His face reddened. “Hang it, Cassie! This is no life for you—or your mother. It’s not fitting for ladies to travel from pillar to post alone. And what are you going back to? A job as common kitchen help.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “I can make you quite comfortable. I trust your experience in Price City and the journey you just endured have helped you see the folly of ignoring Scripture.”

  “Please desist, Mr. Fitzhugh. I’m not ignoring Scripture when I look after my mother. What we do is not for you to decide.”

  “Ah, you must be tired.” He gentled his voice. “I’ll give you time to go home and rest. We can make plans during our next visit.”

  She stamped her foot. “There will be no more visits. How can I make you understand? I don’t wish to see you again.”

  Lips pinched in a firm line, she marched to the train and entered the passenger car. She’d done it! The old Cassie would never have had the courage to send Patrick away permanently, but then the old Cassie would never have made other decisions on her own, either.

  She liked the new Cassie better.

  30

  Jacob lifted the telegram from the table beside his armchair and read it again.

  TAKING MOTHER TO PRICE CITY STOP HOME SOONEST STOP CASSIE

  How soon was “soonest”? She’d left last Wednesday, the telegram arrived Thursday, and now another Wednesday morning blossomed on the horizon. The sky shone silvery with the first light of dawn.

  After blowing out the lamp, he wrapped his fingers around the crook of his cane and paced to the stable. Might as well go to work. At least there he’d have some company.

  Attending church Sunday morning had helped for a short time, but seeing Cassie’s friends chatting on the lawn after services sent a sharp pang through his chest. Had she attended church with her mother in Price City? What if she decided not to come back?

  As he rode Jackson toward the sunrise, he tried to focus his thoughts on the coming week’s business. He didn’t know how much longer customers would accept Becca’s pies. Good as they were, they weren’t Cassie’s. A dip in income would reduce the amount he sent to Keegan Byrne, a thought which filled him with dread.

  In Reverend French’s sermon on Sunday, he’d quoted a passage about casting all care on the Lord, but Jacob knew such a solution couldn’t apply to a man like him. He’d brought his troubles on himself. He’d have to find his own way out.

  He rode past the livery stable, the town square, and the butcher shop, then turned in to the alley behind West & Riley’s. Golden fingers of dawn traced a path toward the water trough where he tied Jackson. Wash would tend to the saddle and blanket later.

  After removing his cane from a scabbard behind the saddle, Jacob limped toward the kitchen door.

  “Jacob? Jacob!”

  He spun toward the sound of the voice. Cassie ran to him, her skirts flying, and threw her arms around his middle.

  “I hoped to get here before you did, so I could surprise you.”

  “This is even better.” He bent his head and kissed her waiting lips, then rested his cheek on top of her soft hair. She fit in his arms as though they’d been sculpted together. “I was afraid you weren’t coming back.” His voice sounded gruff to his ears. He cleared his throat. “I missed you, more than I thought possible.”

  She took a step away and held his gaze with her emerald eyes. “Knowing you’d be waiting was the one bright spot in my days. Price City was . . . well, to begin with, it wasn’t a city. It’s a railroad construction camp in the middle of nowhere. My mother’s brother is there managing a stage stop—he calls it a hotel—for the Union Pacific.”

  He studied her animated face while she went on to explain her delay. To his ears, the circumstances pointed to her mother manipulating her once again. Cassie’s innocence was one of the qualities he loved about her, but how she could continue to respond every time her mother beckoned was a mystery. When she described her uncle’s plan to use her as an attraction in his hotel’s dining room, he’d heard enough.

  He bent down and kissed her lips to stop the flow of words. “You can tell me the rest later, when we’re truly alone. Mrs. Fielder and Becca are probably inside, praying for your return.”

  She grinned at him. “They can’t be praying any harder than I did. This has been one of the longest weeks I can remember.” She threw her arms around him and hugged him again before opening the door.

  As he expected, the two women in the kitchen greeted Cassie with broad smiles.

  Becca rested her hands on the floury worktable. “Praise God. No more pie baking. Sure am glad to see you.”

  Mrs. Fielder dashed to her side. “You’re back! We thought you’d be gone only a couple of days.”

  “I’ll tell you both everything that happened while we work
. We don’t want the boss angry with us for wasting time.” She turned her head and sent Jacob a barely perceptible wink.

  The warmth that filled him raced all the way to his toes. His Cassie was home.

  Jacob stood behind the counter in the grocery, listening to the clink of utensils on plates and the low murmur of men’s voices coming from the dining room. Three of Cassie’s pies sat atop a display case waiting to be claimed. He took a deep breath and inhaled the sweet fragrance of warm blackberries rising through the perfectly browned crust. From the sounds reaching his ears, his patrons were enjoying their dessert, as well.

  He gave a contented sigh and was about to return to his office when a paunchy man with an unshaven face approached from the dining area.

  “I don’t have one of them meal tickets, so guess I need to pay you for my supper.”

  “You can buy a ticket if you’ll be here for a few days. Save you some money.”

  “Nope. Leaving on the morning train for St. Louis.” He dug in his pocket. “How much?”

  “Thirty cents.” He picked up a pencil and noted the amount on a sheet of paper.

  After the man laid the coins on the counter, he tipped his head toward the open kitchen door. “That little red-headed gal in there—saw her last week when I drove the stage to Price City. She was with a blond fella. Now she’s in your kitchen.” He smirked. “She gets around, don’t she?”

  Jacob lowered his voice to a growl. “You must be mistaken. Miss Haddon was traveling with her mother.”

  “There was two ladies all right, but the blond fella couldn’t keep his eyes off the young one.” Shrugging, he turned away. “Guess what she does on her own time is her business, ain’t it?”

  The pencil snapped in Jacob’s grip. The “blond fella” could only be Patrick Fitzhugh. Why hadn’t Cassie told him the truth?

  He wished he’d brought the buggy today, so he could drive her somewhere for a private word. Since he’d arrived on horseback, the office space in the storeroom would have to do. Glancing around, he spotted his helper.

  “Timothy, mind the store. I’ll count the receipts later.”