by Ann Shorey
Color rose in Amy’s face. “He’s nice, isn’t he?”
“He likes you too.” Faith patted Amy’s shoulder, wondering how Curt would feel about having a rival.
She rose and kissed Grandpa’s cheek. “Have a pleasant evening. I’ll see you when I get home.”
As Faith walked to the mercantile, she viewed her surroundings with fresh eyes. The houses she passed on her street looked tidy, with bright flowers blooming inside picket fences. Maple trees extended patches of shade over the boardwalk. Noble Springs’s stone courthouse had survived the war when many other counties had theirs destroyed. Now it stood like a proud sentinel in the center of town. She paused and stared up at the three-story edifice, her mind on Royal.
He’d said he’d come at closing time to transport a load of their trail supplies to Hartfield. She couldn’t wait. Thankfully, she’d have all day to decide what to say to him.
Soon after she unlocked the mercantile, the woodstove regulars strolled in and settled on their chairs next to the checkerboard. “Didn’t see nothing unusual in the alley this morning,” Mr. Grisbee said. “After I whup Jesse at checkers, I’ll go out and keep an eye on things.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She rested a hand on the back of his chair. “I’m happy to say Sheriff Cooper found most of our stolen merchandise yesterday—and arrested the thieves.” She didn’t mention the men’s motive. Some things were better kept to herself.
“Well, by gum.” Mr. Slocum said. “I liked feeling useful.” He combed his fingers through his trim gray beard. “How about we go on escorting you to the bank?”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” She added a talk with Mr. Paulson to her mental list of things to do.
Rosemary dashed through the door. “I’m sorry I’m late. Curt needed—he had to—” She took a breath. “Something came up.”
“Is he hurt?” Faith’s heart lurched.
Rosemary shook her head. “Nothing like that. He’s well.” She scrutinized Faith. “On the other hand, you look dreadful. Wedding nerves?”
“You might say so. The sheriff paid us a call last evening.” She repeated what she’d told Mr. Grisbee and Mr. Slocum, again eliminating the information about the connection to Royal. “Please tell Curt as soon as you can. I think Sheriff Cooper owes him an apology.”
“Why don’t you tell him yourself?”
“He’s not at the livery anymore when I walk home, and he never comes to see Amy in the evenings. I think he’s avoiding me.”
“Oh, that’s not the case at all.” Rosemary seized Faith’s hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “Curt’s been spending evenings with Mr. Robbinette. They talk for hours.”
Surprised, Faith remembered the tall, affable principal of Noble Springs Academy from her days as a student.
“What do they have in common? Does Mr. Robbinette like horses?”
“Curt didn’t tell you?” Rosemary dropped her hands. “He was hired to teach mathematics at the academy this fall. I thought you knew. He taught in St. Louis before the war. He’s brilliant with numbers, although I admit to being prejudiced.”
Stunned, Faith gaped at her friend. No wonder Curt brought quick order to the mercantile’s ledgers. “Why didn’t he say anything to me?”
Rosemary’s face clouded. “He probably felt it inappropriate since you’re engaged to Royal.”
Curt stood in the doorway of Rip’s office. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“We ain’t exactly got customers lined up to rent buggies, now, have we? Go on with you.” Rip winked. “I won’t even dock your pay the extra half hour.”
Curt shook his head. “You’re a good man. Thank you.” He left the livery, energized at the prospect of an invitation to supper with Malcolm Robbinette’s family. That morning, Rosemary had completed a new high-necked shirt for him, so he wouldn’t have to worry about Mrs. Robbinette being disquieted by the sight of his scar.
If only he were escorting Faith to the Robbinettes’, instead of attending as a bachelor. He prayed Malcolm’s wife hadn’t provided an eligible young woman as his table companion. He had no room in his heart for anyone but Faith.
Before setting off for home, he glanced over his shoulder at the Lindbergs’ house. One more week and she would be Mrs. Baxter.
He set his face forward and strode toward town.
Faith put the “Closed” sign in the window of the mercantile, then rolled down the shades. Where was Royal? He should have been here twenty minutes ago.
She paced to the storeroom, a smile crossing her face as she studied the now-empty crates that had held supplies for the journey west. After replacing the items she’d accumulated onto their proper shelves and adding the merchandise the sheriff had returned, the store looked almost as good as it had before the war. She couldn’t wait to share her news with Grandpa.
Her nerves jangled in tune with the bell when the front door opened. As much as she’d rehearsed what to say to Royal, now that he was here the words died in her throat.
“How’s my sweetling?” Royal removed his hat and drew her close. His shirt was sprinkled with sawdust and smelled of sweat. “Ready to—”
She placed her hands against his chest and shoved. “Don’t touch me.”
His dark eyes glinted. “What’s come over you? You said tonight we’d start packing our supplies for Oregon.”
“No, that’s what you said. You also said I should prod my grandfather to sign sale papers. Neither of those things is going to happen. Not tonight, not any night.” Faith moved behind one of the counters to put distance between them.
Black anger crossed his face as he stared at her. She watched as he composed himself, his frown reshaping itself into a contrived smile. “I’ve said this before, working here is too much for you. Women aren’t strong enough for daily commerce. Perhaps we could talk tomorrow, after you’ve rested.”
“I understand your friends won’t be joining you on your trip west.”
“My . . . friends?”
“Tolly Grubbs and Frank Kagan. The sheriff visited us last night. It seems they’re the men who robbed me.”
He took a step backward. “I had nothing to do with that.”
“But you had everything to do with trying to charm me into selling my grandfather’s store so we could provide for your journey to Oregon. You knew those men would follow you, just like they did all through the war.” She glared at him through a haze of anger. “You never knew my father or brother at all, did you? A few questions around town, and you learned everything you needed to know about the unfortunate Lindberg family.”
“Didn’t take much to win you over, did it? Plain girl like you, daydreaming about the day you sent a heroic soldier off to war.” He sneered at her. “You were ripe for the picking.”
Shaking with rage, she stamped to the door and flung it open. “Leave. Now. Maybe you can explain to the man in Hartfield why that poor, silly girl in Noble Springs won’t give you the money for that wagon you ordered.”
He slapped his hat over his sweaty hair and brushed past her without a word. She banged the door shut behind him, then sagged against the smooth wooden surface.
“Thank you, Lord,” she whispered.
Twilight had settled over the streets when Faith left the mercantile. As soon as she got home, she’d tell Grandpa there’d be no wedding, and no departure for Oregon. Then she’d heat water and take a long bath. She wanted to throw the memory of Royal’s touch out with the soap scum.
A feeling of freedom lightened her steps. Her obsession had nearly led to disaster for herself and her grandfather.
She dashed into the house, expecting to see Grandpa waiting by the window, but his chair was vacant.
“Grandpa! Where are you?”
Amy came down the stairs, carrying Sophia. “Dr. Greeley is going to bring him home. They must have a drawn-out chess game going. He’s never been this late.”
“I’ll go fetch him. I have news he’ll want to hear.”<
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She covered the three blocks between their home and the doctor’s house with rapid steps. Shadows lengthened over the streets. If they didn’t hurry, it would be full dark before they got home.
Lights from the front windows brightened the doctor’s broad porch. Faith paused to dab perspiration from her forehead, then raised the horseshoe-shaped knocker and rapped on the door.
Dr. Greeley peered out at her. He wore house slippers and an open-collared shirt. “Faith. What are you doing here? Is your grandfather ill?”
Her senses prickled. “He’s not here?”
“He left an hour ago. It’s a warm evening. Said he wanted to walk.”
33
Faith gaped at the doctor, the sound of her heartbeat loud in her ears. “Grandpa didn’t come home,” she said. Her voice shook. “I need to find him.”
“Maybe he stopped on the way to visit a neighbor.”
“You don’t understand.” She half-turned toward the street. “He gets confused sometimes. He comes to his senses in a strange place and doesn’t know how he got there.”
Dr. Greeley raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Nonsense. Nate checkmated me this afternoon in five moves. There’s nothing wrong with his mind.”
Faith tightened her jaw. If a more opinionated man than Dr. Greeley existed, she had yet to meet him. “Thank you. I’ll not trouble you further.” She skimmed down the steps and trotted toward Curt’s house. Whether he wanted to talk to her or not, she needed his help.
Rosemary opened the door in response to Faith’s frantic knock. “My goodness. It’s almost dark. What brings you out so late?”
“Is Curt here?” She wheezed, trying to catch her breath.
“No, he had a supper invitation at Robbinettes’ this evening.” She took Faith’s hand and led her to the sofa. “Sit down and tell me what’s wrong.”
“Grandpa’s missing. He left Dr. Greeley’s some time ago and hasn’t come home.”
“And I’m sure the good doctor was no help.”
Faith puffed out a breath. “No, he wasn’t. Claims there’s nothing to worry about.” She shifted on the cushion. “I need to start looking. Too much time has passed already.”
“You won’t be safe out after dark. A woman alone—”
“I have to find my grandfather. If it weren’t for me, he’d be sitting in our parlor right now.”
“You can’t blame yourself.” Rosemary pulled her into a hug. “Please stop at the jailhouse and get the sheriff. Better if he goes than you.”
On the way to see the sheriff, Faith walked past the mercantile and entered the dim alley, in case Grandpa had returned to his old writing room in the shed. She tried to stay in the shadows so she wouldn’t attract unwelcome attention. Peering into the shed’s dusky interior, she saw nothing but stacked crates.
Her hands clammy with fear, she crossed the street toward the sheriff’s office. No light showed through the windows.
“Then it’s up to me,” she said, squaring her shoulders.
A blinding thought flared in her mind. She knew where Grandpa had gone.
“Please, God, not there,” she whispered. “I can’t do it.”
Fear not, for I am with thee.
She clung to the promise from the book of Isaiah as she dashed through town.
Faith stopped at home to tell Amy what had happened and where she was going. The girl pressed her hand to her lips.
“You can’t. It’s dangerous. What if something happens to you?”
“I’m going.” Faith went to the pantry and lifted a lantern from a shelf, then struck a match against the edge of the stove and lit the wick. “Should Grandpa come home while I’m gone, please make sure he stays here. I’ll come straight back if I don’t find him.”
Amy wrung her hands. “I’m scared.”
“I am too.” Faith leaned over and kissed Amy’s cheek. “Please pray for both of us.”
With trembling legs, she pressed into the humid darkness. The lantern threw light three or four feet ahead. She tried not to think of all that lurked beyond the yellow beam.
Retracing her steps toward the livery stable, she turned north on Spring Street and began to climb the hill. Green eyes glowed from under humped shrubbery. Skittering noises behind her caused her to whirl, holding the lantern high. Keep walking, she told herself. One step at a time.
After what felt like hours, she saw the iron fence. Every nerve in her body vibrated. She knew where Grandpa was, but she lacked the courage to enter the gate and walk past dim crosses and headstones to the Lindberg family plot. Faith shuddered when a faint breeze tickled past her ankles.
Paralyzed, she stood rooted outside the cemetery.
Fear not, for I am with thee.
Her grandfather had to be inside, a hundred yards away, at the top of the rise. Faith took one step, then another. Then another. The lantern light bobbed over carved stones as she moved steadily toward the low brick wall where she expected to find him.
A choked voice spoke through the darkness. “Who’s there?”
Her perspiring hands slipped on the handle of the lantern and it swayed. Grandpa’s face shone in the sudden brightness. Faith dropped the light and ran to him.
“Praise God. You’re safe.”
Grandpa’s arms held her close. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s risky for a woman after dark.” His breath brushed her ear.
“I came to find you.”
“I wanted to say good-bye to Clara.”
“We’re not leaving. That’s what I came to tell you.” She stepped away and lifted the lantern, thankful it hadn’t tipped over, and placed it on the brick wall around their plot. “Sit beside me and I’ll explain everything that happened today.” While she talked, she marveled that she could remain calm enough in the middle of a cemetery to have a conversation with her grandfather.
Fear not, for I am with thee.
As they walked down the road toward town, they heard hoofbeats. Grandpa seized Faith’s arm and pushed her into the shadows, then dropped his hat over the lantern. “Be still,” he whispered. “Maybe he won’t see us.”
She nodded.
The horse’s steps slowed as the rider approached. A glowing circle appeared on the crown of Grandpa’s hat, followed by a thin column of smoke.
She gasped, then sneezed when the smoke reached her nose.
The hoofbeats stopped. “Faith? Judge?”
“That you, Saxon?” Grandpa jerked his hat off the lantern and stomped on the glowing embers.
Faith raised the light in time to see Curt dismount. His high-necked shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. Caring eyes sought hers. “Rosemary came to the Robbinettes’ and told me what happened. She was afraid you’d try to find your granddad on your own, no matter what she said.”
“Rosemary warned me about the danger of being out after sunset and then she braved the dark to fetch you.” Faith shook her head, humbled at the magnitude of her friend’s action. She wondered how she could have believed she needed to leave Noble Springs to be happy.
She studied Curt’s shadowed face. “How did you know where to find me? When I left your house, I didn’t have any idea where to start looking for Grandpa.”
“Amy told me this is where you went.”
Amy again. She’d have to get used to them being together.
Curt patted Grandpa’s shoulder. “I’m relieved to see you.”
“You both act like I was lost. I knew exactly where I was. Glad you’re here with your horse, though. It’s a long walk to town.”
“Seems like we’ve done this before.” Curt laced his hands together so Grandpa could have a boost into the saddle.
“Obliged.”
Curt turned to Faith. “I know how you feel about this cemetery. Why didn’t you ask Baxter to come with you?” He took the reins and led Moses down the road.
Faith walked next to him, holding the lantern in one hand. “Baxter’s out of my life.”
“What about Oregon?”
>
“Noble Springs is my home.”
She heard his sharp exhalation over the sound of horse’s hooves and singing crickets. After a moment he said, “Good. You’ve made a lot of people happy.”
She waited for him to say he was one of those people, but he said nothing further. They covered the distance to town in silence.
The next morning, Faith gazed into the hall mirror and straightened her bonnet. She wanted to look her best when she called on Mr. Paulson at the bank.
Shuddering, she considered how close she’d come to marrying Royal. Six more days and she’d have been Mrs. Baxter. How could she have been so blind? Thank you, Lord, for opening my eyes.
On the way to town, she’d stop at the livery and thank Curt again for coming to her rescue. Even though he was interested in Amy, they could still be friends.
Grandpa walked up next to her and handed her the sale documents. He’d drawn a large “X” across the pages. “Give this to Paulson.” His eyes twinkled. “Tell him Lindberg’s Mercantile is not for sale. Not now. Not ever.” He looked happier than he had in months.
Faith hugged him. “I’ll tell him just that.”
Was it her imagination, or was the sun shining more brightly than usual? With light steps she strolled toward the livery. A black buggy sat in front of the building. As she drew close, she saw Curt bent over polishing one of the wheels. Her eyes widened. The vehicle looked like the one Royal had been using.
Curt straightened when she approached. “How’s your grandfather this morning?”
“Never better. Thank you again for coming to find us.” She tilted her head. “Did Rosemary tell you that the sheriff caught the thieves who robbed the mercantile?”
“She did.” He dropped the rag he’d been using and leaned against the buggy, his thumbs tucked into his front pockets. “You must be relieved.”
“I am relieved, for more than one reason. The thieves were friends of Royal Baxter’s.” She shook her head. “I feel like I’ve awakened from a bad dream.”
