by Ann Shorey
“But Mr. Paulson said this would be a bad time to sell.”
“Bosh. A business in distress is bound to look like a bargain.” He arched an eyebrow. “Anyway, a pretty gal like you is sure to get married. Maybe sooner than you think.”
She flushed at the implication in his words. Was he suggesting—? Disquieted, she placed her dish next to Royal’s on top of the basket. She didn’t know if she could be happy with giving up her dream and staying in Noble Springs as his wife. Something she thought she’d wanted for so long now seemed less desirable than going to Oregon.
He lifted her hand and stroked each finger, then kissed her palm.
Fire raced up her arm. He cupped her head and drew her toward him. His lips touched hers, as gentle as a wisp of smoke.
For a moment she lost herself in the fulfillment of the fantasy she’d carried since she was sixteen. Then she jerked away. “We’d best leave,” she said in a firm voice.
“I apologize. It won’t happen again—unless you want it to.” He winked at her and jumped out of the buggy, untying the reins from a branch while she returned their plates to the picnic basket.
The clouds separated for a few seconds, and sunlight poured over Royal. Was the Lord sending her a message? She hugged her shawl closer, wishing she knew.
On the way back to town, they approached a buggy filled with girls she’d known in her class at the academy. Royal’s head tilted in their direction as he tipped his hat.
Nelda Raines leaned forward and stared.
16
Curt stood to one side while Faith’s grandfather opened the door and entered his house. Faith met them in the entry hall, her cheeks pink. He suspected she’d spent time with Royal Baxter. Working at the livery gave him the opportunity to see who rented carriages, and Rip had assigned the covered buggy to Baxter for the weekend.
Jealousy seared across his chest. From all he’d heard, Baxter was a ladies’ man. Faith deserved someone better. Looking at her flushed face and sparkling eyes, he groaned inwardly. If only he could trust himself to be rid of the visions that blasted to the front of his brain when he least expected them, he’d ask for her hand tomorrow. In the meantime, he was welcome in her home. That would have to be enough for now.
Judge Lindberg crossed to Faith and kissed her cheek. “Too bad it rained. Did you cancel your picnic?”
Curt’s ears perked up. Maybe she’d been alone after all.
“No, Royal said we’d go anyway, so we did.” Her flush deepened when she glanced at Curt.
He willed himself not to frown. What Faith did was no concern of his. Not at all. None.
She turned to him. “I baked a Dolly Varden cake yesterday. I’d be pleased if you’d join us for an evening treat.” An expectant expression filled her face.
When she looked at him like that, he couldn’t refuse. “Sounds good. Thank you.”
“Glad you and Baxter didn’t eat it all,” her grandfather said, moving toward the dining table. “Cut me a big slice.”
Curt fell in beside Faith as she entered the kitchen. “Can I help?”
She blinked as though his question surprised her. “Yes, if you want to.” She lifted a cover from the cake and removed three small plates from a cupboard.
His mouth watered at the sight of the four-layer dessert, light and dark layers alternated with garnet red jelly spread between them. “I remember you served this the first time I visited your grandfather.” He shook his head. “Never tasted anything better. Wish you’d give Rosemary the recipe.”
She tipped slices onto plates. “I’d be happy to. If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll write it up tonight. You can take it home with you.”
“Be glad to wait,” he said, pleased to have a reason to linger.
Once Faith’s grandfather finished his cake, he went to the parlor and settled in his wing chair by the fire. Curt cleared the table, then sat while Faith copied the recipe from a stained brown cookbook.
After a few moments, she laid the pencil aside. “Did Rosemary tell you about our . . . financial problems?” Worry lines etched her forehead.
Surprised at the switch in topics from cake to finances, he nodded.
“Did you say anything to Grandpa?”
“No. Rosemary cautioned me that you don’t want him upset.”
A relieved sigh escaped her lips, but the worry lines remained. “I don’t know what to do. I stayed awake half the night pondering the situation. There’s a demand for supplies from people outfitting for the trail, yet we can’t order new stock.” Her eyes shone with tears. “Do you think I should try to sell the store, no matter what Grandpa and Mr. Paulson say?”
He wished he could kiss the tears from the corners of her eyes and promise everything would be all right. Instead, he reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Why don’t you let me look over the ledgers before you decide? Perhaps things aren’t as bad as they seem.”
“Would you?”
“I’ll be there tomorrow right after you close.”
She swallowed. “Not tomorrow. Mr. Baxter has asked to see me home.”
Curt stamped up the steps and slammed into the living room of the house he shared with Rosemary.
She looked up from the open book on her lap. “Hush. You’ll wake the Haddons.”
He thrust a folded piece of paper at her. “This is from Faith. It’s a recipe.”
“Oh, good.” She unfolded the sheet and glanced at the heading. “Dolly Varden cake. I’ll thank her tomorrow.” She placed the note between pages and closed her book. “Now, tell me why you’re in such a black mood.”
“That Baxter fellow. Faith seems smitten with him.”
“Aren’t you jumping to conclusions?”
“Hardly. I offered to help her with the ledgers tomorrow evening, but she can’t spare the time. Baxter’s coming to see her home.”
Rosemary stood and placed a hand on his arm. “Did you offer to go on Tuesday?”
“No.”
She released his arm and put her hands on her hips. “You may be my older brother, but sometimes I could shake you. She’s not promised to Royal Baxter. If you’re interested, why don’t you ask her to go for a buggy ride? Or a walk on one of these spring evenings?”
“You know I can’t risk it.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
He turned toward the door. “I’m going out for a while. Don’t wait up.”
“I’ll tell her you’ll be there Tuesday evening.”
Faith perched on a stool next to Curt, who stood behind a counter flipping through last year’s ledger. After several moments, during which the only sound was the whisper of pages turning, he snapped the book closed. “Challenging, to say the least.”
“Can you make sense of any of it?” Her voice squeaked with apprehension.
He slid the current ledger in front of him, opened to Saturday’s page. “Is this the way he taught you to make entries?”
“Yes. Write the name and the amount sold, or what I paid out for supplies.” What had she been doing wrong?
“Where are the weekly totals? The monthly accounting? How do you know whether you’re losing money or making a profit?”
She twisted her hands together. “Grandpa said he’d take care of that part.”
“Faith.” He rubbed his end-of-the-day whiskers while drawing a deep breath. “Even though you know he’s . . . confused sometimes, you still thought he was keeping track? Why?”
She slid off the stool and faced him, hands thrust against her hips. “You make it sound like I’m brainless. If you can’t help me, just go away.” At the stunned expression on his face, her anger deflated. “Forgive me.” She ducked her head and spoke in a strangled voice. “I never had to pay attention to money. It was always there when we needed anything. I honestly didn’t know there was more to do than take deposits to the bank.” Her face burned. She was brainless.
Curt took her hands in his. “Let me take last year’s ledger home with me.
I’ll make a list of names and amounts owed by the people he gave credit to. We’ll start there.” He released her hands and tucked the book under one arm.
“You said ‘we.’ You mean you’ll teach me?” Her pulse quickened at the thought of his steady presence helping her make sense of their finances. If he told her what to do, she knew she could learn.
He nodded. “We’ll have to find a way to work together without your grandfather knowing what we’re doing. He may take it as criticism.”
Grandpa’s voice sounded from the entrance to the storeroom. “Take what as criticism?”
Faith jumped. She’d hoped he’d stay busy in his makeshift office until time to go home.
He marched across the room, his cane thudding. “You’re not going behind my back to sell the store again, are you?”
“No. Curt is helping me understand . . . bookkeeping.” She flinched inwardly at the half-truth. Once the accounts were corrected, she did hope to sell the mercantile before it was too late in the season to make the journey west. Then there was the matter of finding a driver . . .
“I’ve seen that look on your mother’s face.” Grandpa chucked her under the chin. “There’s more to the story.” He turned to Curt. “I’d rather have you hanging about than Baxter, but I don’t see what business you have poking into my ledgers.”
Curt’s face reddened. “I need them to show her how to balance the accounts.” He stammered out his reply.
“Find a textbook. Leave my ledgers alone.”
Faith stood at her bedroom window in her nightdress, watching ragged clouds scatter the stars. She knew she should have been asleep hours ago. Curt promised to teach her how to total the ledgers, but how could he when Grandpa insisted the books remain in the store?
Maybe Curt could stop in during the noon hour. She shook her head. No. She and her grandfather ate dinner together every noon.
She could copy pages and send them home with Rosemary. No again. It would take forever to duplicate every entry made for the past year and a half.
Her eyelids drooped. Maybe tomorrow, after she’d had some sleep, her thoughts might be clearer. She stumbled to bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. There had to be a way.
When she unlocked the store the following morning, she still had no ideas. As she rolled up the shades, the woodstove regulars marched through the doorway and took their places on both sides of the checkerboard.
“Big doings today, Miss Faith,” Mr. Slocum said, sounding like an announcer at an auction.
“What would that be?” She paused on her way to collect a feather duster from the storeroom.
“Going to get that engine back on the tracks. Horse teams will be here this morning. Railroad company sent a locomotive yesterday. It’s sittin’ next to the station, pretty as you please. Once the engine’s upright, they’ll tow it back to St. Louis.”
Mr. Grisbee inclined his head in her direction. “You going to watch? Everybody will be there.”
She remembered the last time most of the town gathered at the depot. Someone had stayed behind to rob the store. “Probably not. Grandpa would enjoy the excitement, though.”
“We was planning to fetch him out of his hidey-hole.” Mr. Grisbee arranged the game pieces on the board. “Got time for me to whup you before we go?” he asked Mr. Slocum.
“We’ll see about that.” He pushed a black checker forward.
Chuckling, Faith continued to the storeroom. Once the damaged engine had been moved, stranded passengers would be able to continue their journeys. She’d miss the extra activity in the mercantile, even though most of the visitors made no purchases.
She brushed the duster along shelves and countertops, half-listening to the regulars’ good-natured bickering, when the sound of jangling harnesses and pounding hooves carried through the open door.
“Here they are!” Mr. Slocum hopped to his feet. “I’ll go for Nate. Be right back.” He zipped out the door, followed by Mr. Grisbee doing his fastest shuffle.
“Sure you don’t want to come?” he asked.
“You can tell me about everything later.” She waved the duster at him. “Enjoy yourselves.” Outside, small groups of people hurried by, headed in the direction of the depot.
After the men left, she went to the storeroom and locked the entrance to the alley. Then she closed the front doors and laid an iron poker on the counter above the cash drawer. Just let someone try to rob them again.
She slid into one of the chairs and fixed her eyes on the door, but after several minutes her curiosity overcame her. She stepped onto the boardwalk and darted to the corner of Court Street, where she stood on tiptoe to try to see the tracks. No use. The crowd gathered at the station blocked her view. Disappointed, she turned around and collided with Curt.
“Oh!” She stumbled backward. “You startled me.”
He put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Rip closed the stable so we could see the engine righted. Thought I’d keep an eye on the mercantile instead.”
“I thought the same thing. That’s why I stayed behind.”
They exchanged a smile. Curt paused at the entrance and brushed straw from his trousers. “As long as I’m here, why don’t you go watch the activity? I doubt any customers will come by.”
“I’d rather stay here. I spent last night wondering how we could discuss the ledgers out of Grandpa’s hearing. Seems like the Lord has provided the opportunity.”
Curt sent her a conspiratorial grin. “That he has. Shall we get started?”
She placed last year’s book on top of a counter and stood next to him while he opened it to the first page.
“Do you have a blank notebook I can use?”
Faith lifted one from a display on the shelf behind them and handed the lined sheets to him, along with a pencil. “You’ll never get all that copied before everyone returns.”
“Got to start somewhere. Here’s my plan.” He sketched columns on a sheet of paper. “We’ll write the name here. What they bought here. What they owe here. Leave spaces between names so we can list additional amounts in case the same people have more than one outstanding debt.” He tore the page out and handed it to Faith. “You start on the current ledger while I do this one.”
She shook her head. “I still don’t see how we can finish—”
“We don’t have to. Not today.” The creases at the corners of his mouth had an appealing way of curving upward when he smiled. “You weren’t the only one who spent last night wondering how we’d accomplish our task.”
Grateful for his use of the word “our,” she clasped her hands atop the lined paper and raised her eyebrows in a question. “And?”
“I’ll tell him I’m courting you. That way we can spend time together without your grandfather suspecting anything.”
“Courting me?” The pulse in her throat throbbed. What would Royal think about having a rival? She blew out a breath. She’d cross that creek when she came to it.
“Not really courting,” Curt added before she could say anything more. “Don’t you see? I can call for you evenings, and we’ll come here and copy accounts into this notebook. Then I can work on them at home and tell you who owes how much to your grandfather.”
“Oh.” She stifled an unreasonable wave of disappointment. “But what about Grandpa? I can’t leave him alone.”
“Has he ever wandered off at night?”
“No, because I’m always at home with him.”
Curt shot her an annoyed glance. “You’re not awake all night. If he wanted to slip out, you’d never know it until morning.”
“Let’s get busy, then.” With a huff, she tugged the current ledger toward her and turned to a page that began with a paragraph about her great-grandfather’s musical skills. She copied a customer’s name and his purchase, then noted the cost in the third column.
“I thought you’d be pleased. You seem cross.”
“I am pleased. Thank you for your help.”
Curt studied
her for a moment, then reached for the other ledger. The coarse fabric of his work shirt brushed her wrist. He smelled clean, like rain and fresh-cut hay. Faith moved a few inches away, wishing she weren’t so sensitive to his presence. She should be thinking about Royal—not someone who was merely pretending courtship.
Early Friday morning, Faith and her grandfather walked to the depot under dark skies to join the rest of the townspeople gathered to bid farewell to the stranded passengers. Clouds massed in the distance, promising a thunderstorm before nightfall.
Smoke poured from the stack of the eastbound train. As they arrived, the conductor stepped down from a passenger car. “Boarding! All aboard.”
The Dunsmuirs separated from the group and made their way to Faith’s side. “Thank you again,” Amy said. “You were a blessing.”
Joel tipped his hat. “Proud to know you, miss.” They hurried toward the train.
Several of the women who’d spent time in the mercantile paused to repeat thanks and good-byes before boarding. Faith dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s silly to miss people I’ve only known for a short time.”
Grandpa patted her shoulder. “You have a soft heart, just like your mama’s.” A grin lifted his moustache. “It makes up for your iron will.”
She snickered through her tears. Rosemary joined them, her arm linked through Cassie Haddon’s. The bruises had disappeared from Cassie’s face, but her woebegone expression remained. Mrs. Haddon walked behind them, her nose wrinkled as though she were entering a stockyard.
The conductor repeated the boarding call. Cassie turned and clasped Rosemary in a fierce hug, then turned on her heel and followed her mother toward the train, boarding without a backward glance.
“Takes all kinds,” Grandpa said. “Good thing they had you folks to stay with.”
Rosemary looked around at the gathered townspeople. “Most everyone rallied to help.” Her gaze landed on Dr. Greeley. “Some were more openhearted than others.”
