by Ann Shorey
Then somehow she needed a private moment to talk to him about the customers who claimed to have received merchandise as a gift.
Grandpa waited for them in the entry hall. “Faith said you were coming. I’ve got the chessboard ready on the dining table.”
“In a moment, sir,” Curt said. “Rosemary gave me specific instructions about these teas. As soon as I pass her words on to Faith, I’ll come and checkmate you.”
Grandpa guffawed. “We’ll see about that.”
Curt followed Faith into the kitchen. After she placed the jars on the table, he unwound the wire binding them together. Each container had a square of paper tied around the zinc lid. One had the words “Judge Lindberg” written on top, the other said “Faith.”
“What did Rosemary send for me?” Faith lowered her voice. “I thought the tea was to help Grandpa’s memory.”
“This one is.” Curt pushed the first glass jar toward her. “Rosemary said to mix it half and half with hot water and give him a cupful with his evening meal.”
Faith eyed the greenish-amber liquid. “How long before it works on him?”
“She said to give it time. When you run out, she’ll make some more.” He lifted the second tea so that the lamplight made the lemon-colored contents appear golden. “This will help you sleep. Warm a cup at bedtime.” He took her shoulders and turned her to face him.
“She told me about the money being stolen this morning. I was sorry to hear the news, after all the work we’ve done.”
Tears stung her eyes at his caring tone. “That’s not the worst of it,” she said in a soft voice. “The sheriff thinks you’re responsible.”
His fingers tightened. “We’ll have to prove him wrong.” His voice held an edge of steel.
“But how?”
“Are you two finished whispering in there?” Grandpa called. “Time’s a’wastin’.”
Curt released her. “May I come ‘courting’ Monday?” He smiled. “We can go for a walk after supper.”
“I’m afraid to leave Grandpa. Did Rosemary tell you about Friday night?”
“She did. Told me the circumstances too. Let’s try it anyway. We won’t be away for as long as you were.” His voice carried a hint of condemnation.
Faith leaned against a counter in the mercantile listening to a train rumble out of the station. A glance at the clock told her it was close to noon. Seven more hours and Curt would come to the house to escort her on a stroll around town. Thinking of his caring ways brought a smile to her lips.
She gave herself a shake. She shouldn’t be daydreaming about Curt when Royal was the man courting her. Or so he said. She hadn’t seen him since the night of the musicale.
The door to the mercantile opened so slowly that the bell gave a single clink and fell silent. Amy Dunsmuir stood in the entrance, hugging baby Sophia to her chest. Her pale skin looked almost translucent.
Faith hastened to her side. “What a pleasant surprise. Is your husband not with you?”
“Joel’s dead.” Tears filled the young woman’s eyes.
“No! It’s not possible. You were here just a few weeks ago. What happened?”
Amy swayed and Faith put an arm around her waist and guided her to a chair. “Rest a moment. I’ll bring you some water.”
She moved behind the counter and poured from a covered jar into a waiting glass. “Rosemary Saxon brings ginger water for me each morning. She claims it helps avoid cramping in the summer heat.” Faith placed the filled glass on top of the checkerboard, thankful that the woodstove regulars had departed earlier.
The baby whimpered and Amy turned her to face forward.
“Come here, little one.” Faith held out her arms and cuddled the infant on her lap. With a pang of sorrow, she noticed Sophia had her father’s straight black hair and round nose. “She favors your husband.”
Amy nodded. “Everyone says so. Now she’s all I have to remind me. We wanted to have a picture made, but it cost too dear. That’s why Joel took a job . . .” She sucked in a breath. “Took a job in the quarry. The pay was good. First week, an edge of the pit broke away. He was standing right underneath. They brought him to me in the back of a wagon.” She closed her eyes, her head shaking from side to side. “I didn’t hardly know him, he was so tore up.”
Faith squeezed her hand. “You can tell me later.”
“No, I want to say it all now. Get it over with. We had a nice burying. Joel’s boss, he gave me the wages Joel had coming. They weren’t much. After thinking on things, I didn’t know what else to do but come here. We neither of us have any kinfolk left.” She met Faith’s concerned gaze. “I hoped maybe you could tell me of a place to stay and some kind of a job I can do.”
“Didn’t you stay with Reverend French before?”
“We did, but it doesn’t feel right to go to them. His son’s there, and now that I’m a widow . . . It’s not seemly.” Amy took a sip of ginger water.
Faith recalled the Frenches’ son. He’d served in the Army and returned home missing an arm. In his late twenties, he now lived with his parents and taught classic literature at the academy. Although she was sure he was a perfect gentleman, she could understand Amy’s reluctance.
She shifted Sophia on her lap and patted Amy’s hand. “I’d be pleased if you’d come home with me. My grandfather and I will be going to our house for dinner in a few minutes.”
Amy lifted her chin. “I’m not here to make you feel sorry and take us in. I hoped you knew someone who needed a housekeeper or some such.”
“If I came to you in need, wouldn’t you help me?”
“Well, naturally. That’s what folks do where I’m from.”
“Folks do that here too.” Smiling, Faith passed Sophia to her mother. “I hear Grandpa coming. Are you up to walking several blocks?”
“Been sitting all morning on the train. A walk will be nice.” Tears starred her lashes. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
As soon as they reached the house, Faith took Amy upstairs and showed her to the bedroom across the hall from her own. “This was my brother’s room.” She waved a hand at the dark mahogany bedstead and heavy chest of drawers.
Amy shrank away from the door. “I don’t want to discommode your memories. We can sleep somewheres else.”
“Nonsense. As you can see, his things are gone. Packed away.” She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “We’ll be glad to see the space put to use.”
“You’re certain?”
Faith nodded. “I’ll fetch clean bedding from the storeroom and be right back. We still have the family cradle Grandpa made when my father was born. I’ll bring that too.”
Amy placed Sophia in the center of the bare mattress. “Let me help.”
A few minutes later, Faith dashed down the stairs. “Dinner will be on the table in a few minutes, Grandpa.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I couldn’t say this before, with Mrs. Dunsmuir around, but I’m proud of you for bringing them here. ‘Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it.’ ”
She dropped a hug around his shoulders. “I hoped you’d feel that way. There was no opportunity to ask you ahead of time.”
“You never have to ask my permission to do good to another person. You should know that by now. Besides, it will be nice to have a young’un around.”
“We’ll enjoy them while we can. Amy said she’s hoping to find work as a housekeeper.” Faith walked into the kitchen and slid a crock of baked beans from the warming oven. As she put the meal on the table, she noticed Amy coming down the stairs.
“Sophia went to sleep soon as I put her in the cradle. I’m sorry I didn’t help with setting out the food.”
Faith smiled at her earnest expression. “I didn’t expect you to. Sit and eat with us, then why don’t you rest this afternoon? We’re usually home by half past five.”
Amy caught her trembling lower lip between her teeth. “I can’t thank yo
u enough for your kindness. I’ll pay you back somehow, I swear.”
“There’s no need,” Grandpa said. “One day you can pass a blessing on to someone else.”
Faith’s heartbeat increased when she heard the knock at the door. Curt was early. In spite of the events of the day, she’d been counting the hours until he arrived. Now she’d have even more to tell him.
She swung the door wide—and stared into Royal’s face. “What . . . what are you doing here?”
“That’s a nice greeting.”
“I apologize, but I expected we’d go for a buggy ride Sunday like we always do, and—”
He touched the tip of her nose with his index finger. “If I promise to see you, I’ll keep that promise. But you can’t assume. As it happens, I had to be in Hartfield Sunday afternoon.” He grinned at her. “Come for a stroll with me. I’ll tell you all about my visit there.”
She glanced over his shoulder and saw Curt crossing the road, Bodie at his heels. Her face warmed. “I have something else to do this evening. I wish you’d asked sooner.”
He turned his head, following the direction of her gaze. “The stableman? You can do better.”
“We’re just friends. He’s been helping me with matters at the store.”
Royal rested his fingers against her forearm. “I’ll see you Sunday afternoon. That’s a promise.” He stepped off the porch, nearly colliding with Curt. “Evening, Saxon.”
Curt touched his hat brim. “Baxter.”
Faith moved to one side to allow Curt to enter. Bodie flopped down on the porch to wait. When she closed the door, she had the uncomfortable feeling she might be turning into one of those girls who kept men on a string like so many fish. “I had no idea he would be stopping by,” she said, her voice apologetic.
“Not your fault. We’re just pretending to court, remember?” His tone put distance between them. “I’ll greet your granddad, then we’ll go for our walk.”
He crossed to the parlor entrance and stopped. “Mrs. Dunsmuir. Good evening. I hadn’t heard of your return.” He glanced around. “Where’s Joel?”
“He’s—”
“Killed in an accident.” Grandpa spoke from his wing chair. “Amy’s staying with us for a bit. I’m sure Faith can tell you the rest.”
“Yes. I can. As soon as I get my bonnet we’ll be on our way.”
Curt walked to the sofa and made a half-bow in Amy’s direction. “My sincere condolences. Joel was a fine man. I admired his spirit.”
Her hazel eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you. Your words are a comfort.”
As they walked toward town, Bodie ran ahead and then circled back, busy sniffing at shadows. Faith told Curt what she knew of Joel’s death and Amy’s decision to return to Noble Springs. “When she recovers, she plans to look for work here.”
“I’ll keep my ears open and let you know if I hear of anything.” He smiled at her, his earlier chilliness apparently forgotten. “Maybe Mrs. Wylie needs someone.”
She loved the way his whole face lifted when he smiled.
“She wouldn’t hire Queen Victoria on my recommendation.” Faith chuckled. “I’m afraid we’ve lost a customer. You seem to have been more successful with collections.”
“Except for those few who claim your granddad gave them the merchandise.”
“Yes, there’s that. How many people have told you they didn’t have to pay?”
“Five so far. What about you?”
“Three. That’s quite a bit of uncollected debt. I don’t understand.”
“I have several more calls to make. Once I’ve talked with everyone, we’ll try to make some sense of this.”
She sighed. “I was so thrilled when Rosemary brought me the money you collected. The first thing I planned to do was order supplies to replace what was stolen. And now we’re back to zero.”
He took her arm when they reached the front of the livery stable. “Careful. The ground’s still slippery from Saturday’s rain.” His hand remained around her elbow after the boardwalk resumed. “You won’t stay at zero for long. Rosemary tells me you have customers supplying for a wagon train that may leave by late summer. They’ll travel partway, then winter over somewhere, I hear.”
Disappointment flickered inside at the mention of late summer. The date might as well be never as far as she was concerned. The mercantile was months away from rebuilding a strong financial foundation. “Rosemary’s right. The thieves didn’t take basics like cookware and buckets, ropes and shovels. But those items don’t bring a profit like rifles do.”
“ ‘For who hath despised the day of small things?’ ”
“This must be my day for Bible quotations. You sound like Grandpa.”
He squeezed her arm. “Just trying to bring a smile to your pretty face.”
Her eyebrows shot up. Curt had never said anything like that before. Did he really think she was pretty?
As they neared the courthouse, Faith glanced across the street, noticing a light burning in the window of the jail. “Has the sheriff bothered you again?”
“Not yet. He’s probably biding his time.”
“I’ll be glad when the thieves are caught and we can prove you had nothing to do with the robberies.”
“That’s what I want to talk over with you. I had—”
Bodie came to an abrupt stop in front of them, his fur raised. A low growl rumbled from his chest. Faith felt Curt’s body tense. He dropped her arm and stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. His hand went to his side, as though he were reaching for a pistol.
He wore no holster.
Curt stared at the low shrubbery beside the courthouse. “Identify yourself.” His voice sounded menacing.
Faith peeked around him. Fading daylight showed no one next to the building. Who did Curt see?
Bodie crept forward, continuing to growl. After a moment, he pounced. A black cat burst from hiding and tore across the street, the dog in full pursuit.
At the sight of the chase, Curt’s body relaxed. He turned toward her, his face a picture of shame. Faith put her hand to her throat. “Curt? What happened?”
“I’ll take you home.” He set off ahead of her. Bodie abandoned the cat and ran after him.
She stood motionless, hands on hips, and hollered at his retreating form, “If you’re going to take me home, hadn’t you better get back here where I am?”
21
Curt stopped at the sound of Faith’s teasing voice. Heat suffused his body. He’d done the unthinkable by losing control in front of her. He marveled that she could still want his company. She should have turned and run the other way.
With dragging steps, he returned to her side. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he mumbled.
She slipped her small palm into his hand. “We’re not far from the mercantile. Let’s sit a moment on the bench out front.” They walked the length of the courthouse square in silence and then crossed the street.
Once they were seated, Curt stared at his shoes, uncertain how to proceed.
Faith cleared her throat and spoke in gentle tones. “Please tell me. What is it you’re afraid of?”
“You should be afraid of me.”
“Hardly. I’ve felt something was wrong for quite a while. You’ve shared in all my troubles for months now, let me share yours.” She held him with her eyes.
Perspiration prickled his forehead. Would she think he was deranged? In spite of Rosemary’s assurances, he half-believed it himself. He leaned forward, digging his fingers into the flesh of his thighs. “Ever since the war—” He cleared his throat. “I have visions. I see battlefields, burned-out towns, soldiers dying. I never know what will touch them off.”
Faith squeezed his hand. “Go on.”
His breath shredded. “I thought I had them licked. It’s been a long time. Reverend French suggested I pray when I feel one coming on, and it’s helped some. Tonight . . .” He slumped forward. “I’d give anything if you hadn’t seen that.”
“After all you’ve been through, I don’t wonder you have horrible memories. I wasn’t anywhere near a battle, but I still have nightmares about what must have happened to my brother and father.” Her hand felt soft and cool on his. “You don’t need to be ashamed.”
“That’s what Rosemary says.”
“She’s right.”
He dared a glance at her face. A soft smile lifted her lips.
“You’re not afraid of me?”
“Why would I be?” She squeezed his hand again. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Curt felt like jumping to his feet and dancing a jig, but the thought of Royal Baxter gave him pause. Faith was right—they were friends. It was Baxter who held her heart.
After seeing Faith home, Curt detoured past his house to leave Bodie with Rosemary, then crossed the street to the parsonage. Reverend French opened the door at his knock.
“You look mighty happy. Come in and tell me about it.”
Curt recounted the events of earlier that evening, leaving out nothing. “She wasn’t afraid of me. Said she understood.”
“Praise God.”
“I did.”
“So what are you going to do now?” The reverend laced his fingers together, steepling his thumbs.
“Same as always—work at the stable, help Rosemary at home.”
“And what about this young lady? Faith Lindberg, if I’m not mistaken.”
Curt’s heart stirred at the sound of her name. “Yes. Faith. She’s interested in someone else.”
Mrs. French stepped into the room carrying a tray containing a plate of cookies and two steaming cups of coffee. The aroma of molasses drifted past Curt’s nose. His stomach growled and he remembered he’d skipped supper to call on Faith.
“Thought you men might like a bite of something sweet.” She placed the tray on a corner of the desk. “There’s plenty of coffee if you need more.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Reverend French helped himself to a cookie and pushed the plate toward Curt. “You sure she’s really interested in him, and not just infatuated with his looks? All the girls think Baxter’s quite the charmer. You should hear my daughter.”
