by Ann Shorey
Faith glanced past her. “Did Curt come with you?”
“He and Mr. Ripley are around here somewhere. I expect most all the businesses are opening late today.”
“There you are.” A masculine voice boomed behind them.
Faith whirled, expecting to see Curt. Instead, Royal beamed at her. “I’ve been hoping for a glimpse of the prettiest girl in town before I had to return to work.” He stood close enough for her to notice the raw oak aroma clinging to his sawdust-covered clothing. His dark eyes slid over her face. “Will I see you Sunday afternoon?”
She hesitated. If Curt were going to pretend to court her, they should spend Sunday together. But he hadn’t said anything. Surely he didn’t expect her to wait on his whims.
Royal watched her, a grin on his face. “That wasn’t supposed to be a hard question. Yes or no?”
“Yes. Two o’clock.”
“Good. I’ll be there.” He sprinted west toward the cooperage.
Grandpa harrumphed. “I don’t trust that fellow. There’s something about him—”
The train’s bell clanged and with a clashing of cars it rolled from the station. Faith waved at the faces in the windows, one arm tucked through her grandfather’s. In his eyes she was still a little girl. He probably wouldn’t like anyone who came courting.
17
The afternoon dragged. Flies bumping against the windows and the scratching of her pencil were the only sounds in the mercantile. The best thing Faith could say about a lack of customers was it gave her the opportunity to copy ledger entries. At this rate, she’d have this year’s book completed before Curt ever began on his share of the work. If he began. Since they’d made their plan, he hadn’t contacted her.
She flipped to a fresh page and saw 20327 written across the bottom. She stared at the numbers, puzzled. They couldn’t be a date—Grandpa had entered that at the top of the sheet. Faith rubbed the back of her neck. 20327 had nothing to do with the total for the goods. In fact, there was no total. He’d evidently sold several pieces of cookware, a set of crockery plates, and table utensils without entering the cost. Now she’d have to check the shelves for prices before she could continue her task.
Exasperated, she smacked her pencil down next to the ledger. “Oh, Grandpa,” she muttered under her breath. “Why didn’t you ask for help long ago?” After brushing past the cookstoves, she stopped in front of shelves holding kitchen goods and climbed a ladder to the one holding copper coffeepots. Once she found the cost, she reached in her apron pocket for a pencil and paper and remembered she’d left them behind. Gritting her teeth, she backed down the ladder and marched to the counter. She should have known she wouldn’t get through the ledger entries easily. Where was Curt?
“Miss Lindberg?”
She spun around. A tall man leaned against a display case, holding a brown slouch hat in one hand. “I’m Alonzo McGuire. You come to see me at West & Riley’s a couple weeks ago.”
Heat crept up her neck at the memory of his mocking dismissal. “I know who you are, Mr. McGuire. Do you need something from the mercantile?” She kept her voice one degree above icy.
He fingered the brim of his hat. “Thing is, I want to apologize. I was at the hotel when that train plowed off the tracks. Saw how you took charge of them folks, tending to the hurt ones, feedin’ ’em and all.”
At the sound of Grandpa’s cane, Faith turned to see him coming from the storeroom. He advanced on Mr. McGuire with his hand extended. “You’re the wagon master. We talked for a spell down at the tracks the day of the fire.”
“Yes, sir. I remember. So you’re Miss Lindberg’s grandpap?”
“Nate Lindberg in the flesh. You here for supplies?”
“He was just leaving.” Faith held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t mention her visit to West & Riley’s.
“Well, no, I wasn’t, miss. I come to say that you and your grandpap are welcome to travel with our company. After watching you, I believe you’re up to it.” He smiled at both of them. “We’ll be leaving a week from Monday. Reckon you’re set to go?”
Faith stammered a reply. “Not yet. I mean . . . we won’t be joining you. Circumstances have changed.” She knitted her fingers together, nails pressing into her palms. Would they ever be ready? Tears stung her eyes at the thought of the wagons leaving—without them—in ten days.
Grandpa turned to her, his face thunderous. “You already talked to this man about joining his company? Without telling me?” His voice rose. “What’s gotten into you?”
Mr. McGuire backed toward the door. “Sorry to disturb you folks.” He clapped his hat over his grizzled hair. “You change your mind, let me know.” He directed the last comment at Faith before fleeing.
Faith stared after his retreating form. He would have taken them west. Why, Lord? Why did things turn out this way? Shoulders sagging, she walked to one of the chairs and sank onto the smooth wooden seat.
A moment of silence passed before Grandpa moved next to her and lowered himself into another chair. He drew several deep breaths before speaking. “I had no idea the thought of going to Oregon was this important to you. First you try to sell my store and now I find you’ve gone behind my back to arrange for wagon passage.” He bit off the words.
“I didn’t think of it as going behind your back. We talked about the trip. I was just getting everything ready for the day the store changed hands.” She pointed at the empty gun rack. “Now it appears the day is a long ways off.”
“Is that so bad?”
“Not if I wanted to stay in Noble Springs, but I don’t.” She leaned over and laid her hand over his wrinkled one. “Everywhere I look there’s a memory of someone I loved who’s gone. I want to live somewhere with grass and flowers and trees and a future. All we have here is the past.”
He rested a sorrowful gaze on her. “The past is your future, Faith. You’re a child of these hills, whether you realize it or not. Our people have always lived here.”
“Not always. Once upon a time they came from Virginia. You say so in your memoir. Why can’t it be our turn to move west?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet. “All right. I’ll think on it some more.”
“Really?” She jumped up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“What is it you’re thinking on, Judge?” Curt ambled over the threshold.
“Faith here is wearing me down on the subject of Oregon.” Grandpa shot her a glance that was more irritated than loving. “Only way I can get any peace is to promise to consider what she says.” He headed for the rear entrance, mumbling as he went. “This whole thing reminds me of when I enlisted to go fight in Mexico. I’m going to write everything down. You want me, I’ll be out in my workroom.” The burlap curtain swayed as he passed through.
Curt grinned at her. “So talking to you reminds him of going to war.”
“I’m sure that’s not what he meant—and it’s about time you got here. We can work on the ledgers while Grandpa’s busy writing.”
“Can’t stay right now. Came by to ask if you wanted to take a stroll with me Sunday afternoon.” He winked. “Might as well start this courtship.”
Why did she tell Royal she’d see him Sunday? If Grandpa were willing to consider leaving, working with Curt on the ledgers was more important than showing her former schoolmates that she could interest a dashing bachelor. “I already have an engagement for Sunday.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry.” As she said the words, she realized she meant them, and not only because she needed help with finances.
Disappointment flickered across his face before his eyes narrowed. “I’m helping you because Rosemary asked me to. When you think you can make time for me, let her know. She’ll give me the message.”
Faith leaned forward when Royal directed the buggy north instead of continuing west. “I thought we were going to the lake.”
He shook the reins and urged the horse up Spring Street’s steep incline. “Not toda
y. I feel like doing something different.”
Uneasy, she shifted on the seat.
The road leveled off, winding past dense groves of oak. Black willows outlined a clear stream that gurgled past limestone outcroppings. Somewhere out of sight a whip-poor-will called.
Be cheerful, Faith reminded herself, trying to shake off her growing dread as they traveled farther north. She gave Royal a bright smile. “What makes today special?”
“Hoped you’d ask.” He slipped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed, then dropped his hand back to the reins before she had time to object. “I been thinking on how to get my battlefield rank when I enlist, and came up with an idea. Some of the men I met during the war were sent from a fort in Oregon.” He stopped, as if that comment explained everything.
Faith waited a moment for more, then asked, “How is that a plan?”
“I’ll go to Oregon and enlist there. I heard the fort was being run by civilians after the war started. The soldiers were sent east to join regiments.”
“You never mentioned Oregon before. Going there has been my dream since the war ended, but Grandpa won’t leave until we sell the store.” She felt a thrill of interest. “Where is this fort?”
“Slap in the middle of the Willamette valley. Army put it there to keep Indians and settlers apart. Heard it’s real pretty—meadows, good soil. A man could have himself a right nice home once he quit soldiering.” He sent her a sidelong glance. “Lots of wildflowers for his wife to pick.”
She sucked in a breath when he mentioned marriage. “When . . . when are you going?”
“I have to get the money together so I can sign on with a wagon company. I’ve got some side jobs in mind.” Leaning close, he touched her with his shoulder. With one eyebrow raised, he said, “Then I’ll be asking someone to be my wife.”
He pulled back on the reins and guided the horse through a wrought iron fence. “Thought you’d like the view from the top of this hill.”
Faith froze. “This is the cemetery.” Her heart thudded in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. “Get me out of here. Now.”
“You’re white as that dress you’re wearing.” He put an arm around her and drew her close, patting her shoulder. “No one’s going to hurt you here. They’re all dead.” She heard suppressed laughter in his voice.
Perspiration popped out on her forehead. “Please. I . . .” Gray mist swirled around Royal’s face. His image receded. As though coming from a great distance, she heard him slap the reins over the horse’s back.
“Giddup.” The buggy jolted forward.
When she opened her eyes, they’d left the cemetery fence behind and were rolling toward town. She took several deep breaths to clear her head.
Royal slowed the horse to a walk. “You all right? What happened to you?”
“I’ve had nightmares about that place ever since I was a child. I know it’s silly, but I can’t seem to forget.”
He looked at her with a confused expression. “You going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”
“A bit after Mama died, my brother took me with him to put flowers on her grave. It was dusk and I guess he thought it was funny to sneak off and leave me there. But then it got pitch dark.” She wiped sweating palms on her skirt. “I called and called, and he didn’t answer. I ran, looking for him, then something reached out and grabbed my ankle. I fell flat on top of a grave.” Faith held her hand against her chest, feeling the thump of her heart. “Anyway, when Maxwell came for me, I was hysterical. He pointed out that I’d only tripped over a honeysuckle vine, but it made no difference.” She shuddered. “When we got home, my father fixed me warm milk and put me to bed, then marched Maxwell to the woodshed and gave him a good hiding.”
Royal gestured up the road in the direction of the cemetery. “So all that carrying-on was about something that happened years ago? Time you got over it, Faith.” He shook the reins and the horse resumed a trot.
She shouldn’t have said anything. Royal liked to keep the conversation light. For a moment she thought of Curt. Something about his nature told her he would have understood. But Curt wasn’t courting her. Royal was, and Royal intended to go to Oregon.
A week later, Faith stood with Rosemary on the lawn at the foot of the church steps. “It was good of Reverend French to pray for the wagon company,” Rosemary said. “I imagine more than a few of the women are nervous about leaving tomorrow.” She squeezed Faith’s arm. “I’m glad you aren’t going with them.”
“I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed.”
“The Lord has other plans. If he means for you to go, there will be plenty of other opportunities.”
Faith thought about Royal. “Perhaps so. We’ll see.” She fanned herself. “I wish Grandpa would hurry on out here so we can go home. It’s terribly warm in the sun.”
Three young women came down the steps and joined them. She smiled at Hilda and Marguerite, suppressing a groan at Nelda’s presence. Faith introduced Rosemary, noticing that her former classmates greeted her friend with the same warmth they’d have used if she were a leper.
Nelda moved to Faith’s side. “I saw you and Mr. Baxter a couple of weeks ago riding in from the country in a covered buggy. He’s going to ruin your reputation if you’re not careful.” Her pale lashes blinked rapidly. “As your friend, I feel it’s my duty to warn you, since you have no mother.”
“Nelda. Come over here.” A buxom woman wearing an overabundance of ruffles waved from across the lawn.
Faith watched as Nelda scuttled toward Mrs. Raines. Perhaps there were worse things than not having a mother—having one like Mrs. Raines, for instance.
Marguerite winked at her. “Nelda can’t get over Royal Baxter favoring you. She’s swooned over him since before the war. Tell me, what’s your secret?”
Pretty and vivacious, Marguerite had always been the girl most sought after at dances and other social events. Faith couldn’t prevent a smile from crossing her face at the thought of her former classmate asking her for advice. She chuckled. “It’s as much a surprise to me as it is to you.”
Rosemary stepped next to her. “Maybe it’s Faith’s kind nature.”
“No doubt.” Marguerite’s voice turned chilly when she spoke to Rosemary. “She does tend to welcome the oddest people.”
Her rudeness gave Faith another reason to wish she could leave Noble Springs. How could she ever have envied girls like Marguerite?
She took Rosemary’s arm. “Let’s find your brother. It’s time we left.”
Faith rolled her shoulders to loosen tight muscles. Across the counter, Curt scribbled names and amounts into a notebook. He flipped to a new page and stopped. “What’s this?”
She leaned over and followed his pointing finger. 20327. “I don’t know—I’ve run across those numbers a few times in this ledger too. I hoped you’d have an answer.”
“Doesn’t mean anything to me.” He rubbed his temple. “You know how your grandfather can be forgetful. Maybe these numbers jumped into his mind and he wrote them down, like he does his stories.”
Faith doubted the explanation. Grandpa’s stories were random. This set of numbers was consistent.
Curt straightened. “Maybe they’re a combination for a lock. Does he keep a money box at home?”
“I’ve never seen one.” A draft blew across her feet. The burlap curtain that concealed the entrance to the storeroom slid forward, then dropped back. She glanced at the front door, but it remained closed. A prickle of alarm marched up her spine. “Did you feel that?” she asked Curt in a whisper.
“What?”
“Cool air, like someone opened a door.” She kept her voice low. “You don’t suppose Grandpa followed us, do you?”
“It’s late. He’s probably fast asleep.”
A floorboard creaked.
Curt’s eyes widened. He tugged off his boots and laid them down without making a sound, then slid from his chair and crept toward the storeroom.
Faith
gripped the edge of the counter, listening to the thrum of her heart. Her grandfather would never sneak up on them. She wished she’d listened when he suggested she keep a revolver under the cash drawer.
With a swift movement, Curt flung open the curtain. She hoped he had enough light from the lamp overhead to see into the room. Boots thudded. Another burst of outside air lifted the burlap. She heard crates being shoved aside as Curt pushed his way to the alley door. Then the bolt slid into place and he padded back to the circle of light.
“Couldn’t see a face. Might’ve been another one in the alley.” He pinned her with a stern glance. “Why wasn’t that door bolted?”
“I leave it open during the day so Grandpa can come and go.” She fought to control the quiver in her voice. “I just forgot to secure it when we left today.”
He gathered her hands in his. “You’ve got to be more careful. You’ve been robbed once, and it looks to me like whoever it was came back for more.” The expression on his face conveyed a depth to his feelings she hadn’t seen before.
She swallowed the flutter in her throat at the sensation of his large hands enclosing hers. What would it be like—?
Stop it, she told herself. He’s only worried about a robbery. Drawing away, she lifted a pencil. “Maybe we should see if we can finish this tonight.”
Curt’s face flushed. He took his boots from the countertop and slid his feet into them. “I’d rather look around outside. We’ll finish another time.” He closed the ledger he’d been using. “Stay here. I’ll walk you home in a few minutes.”
After he left, she leaned forward and rested her head on her arms. Her whole body trembled. Thank you, Lord, that Curt was here.
18
Two evenings later, Faith and Curt stood in the mercantile beaming at each other. “We did it.” She held up the list of uncollected debts. Names covered two pages, including those who had the mysterious numbers below their purchases. She turned and paced toward empty shelves. “We’ll soon be able to replace our stocks.”
