by Cat Cahill
Grace fished it out with the intention of pinning it to the collar, where it would be out of the way. But it wasn’t Mrs. Hill’s usual paper. Instead, this was a larger piece of brown paper—smudged with something that resembled ash and folded and refolded so many times it had gone soft. Grace smoothed out the creases, searching for the customer’s name. There wasn’t one. Instead, the sheet read in the hurried scrawl of a pencil:
Jas. agreeable. Alert G.L. $500 each if alive. Prepare to leave town immediately after.
Grace blinked at the paper as chills peppered her arms and legs. What did it mean? If alive. It certainly didn’t sound like anything good. In fact, it read like something downright malevolent. Whoever wrote this was planning something bad. But what?
Her heart beat faster as she refolded the paper. She couldn’t show this to Mrs. Hill—she didn’t wish to frighten her. Or Molly, for that matter. She should show Mr. Hill first. He’d know what to do.
Her hands shaking, Grace placed the shirt on the top of the stack in the basket and the note in her reticule. Trying to focus on what she needed to do, she barely remembered to take the completed pieces to the counter. And when she did remember, it was a trial to fold them neatly and smooth out the wrinkles. She succeeded as best she could before she peeked her head into the storeroom.
“Molly?” she called, searching for the green-sprigged dress Molly had worn all day.
“I’m back with the stationaries,” Molly called. “Are you leaving? If you wait, I can walk with you.” Molly appeared around the corner, dusting her hands off.
Grace wondered how dusty stationary could get as she shook her head. The note had her so rattled, she feared she’d have trouble keeping its contents from Molly if they strolled to Mrs. Geary’s together.
“It’s all right. The boardinghouse isn’t all that far, and I remember the way.” She forced herself to keep her voice steady, despite the secret that made her entire body feel jittery.
“Are you certain? Or you could wait for Jasper.” Molly gave her a sneaky grin that made Grace’s eyes widen. What exactly was her new friend suggesting? If Grace didn’t know about Miss Boone, she might think Molly was trying to have Grace spend time with her brother.
“It’s no trouble at all. I’ll see you in the morning. Please bid Mr. Hill and your mother good evening for me.”
“All right,” Molly said, looking somewhat disappointed.
She’d tell Mr. Hill about the note in the morning, Grace decided as she left the store. There were fewer people out now, as it was nearing suppertime, but Grace felt no less safe walking outside here than she did back home in Louisville. Gentlemen tipped their hats to her, and she ignored the scruffier-looking men who had apparently never been taught manners—same as she’d done at home.
She pushed the cryptic note from her head and tried to implement Miss Lovelorn’s advice, assessing each polite male face as inconspicuously as possible. A few were handsome and friendly-looking enough, but as Grace drew nearer the boardinghouse, she realized she had no opportunity to be introduced to any of them. She knew none of their names or families, and her friends here were few. She could hardly ask Victoria the undertaker’s assistant if she happened to know the family of the sandy-haired gentleman in the long black coat. And, if she were being honest, not a one of those men she saw compared to Mr. Hill’s striking dark hair and eyes, or the confident yet somewhat imposing way he carried himself.
Grace leaned against the door of the boardinghouse, shutting away the streets of Cañon City. She had no business at all thinking about Mr. Hill in that way, especially not after learning of his commitment to Miss Boone. She sighed and closed her eyes. Perhaps she was going about this all wrong. While she’d come here to be married, she’d settled into a new sort of life instead. And it wasn’t terrible—at least, it wasn’t terrible now that she was working at the general store. Would it be so bad if she set aside her aspirations of marrying, if only for a little while? Miss Lovelorn’s advice would still hold true a few months from now, or even a year. She was only twenty years old—hardly on the shelf yet.
She straightened, feeling as if she’d just shed a great worry. It was easier to smile at supper and laugh with the other girls. In fact, she didn’t even think about the note again until that night, when she opened her reticule. Peering at the scratches on the sheet of paper, the same unease she’d felt back at the store traipsed up her spine again. Grace hurriedly refolded the note and stuffed it into her little bag, vowing not to look at it again until she pulled it out to show Mr. Hill.
Chapter Eight
Jasper whistled as he dodged mud and horse dung in the road. He never whistled, and when he realized he was doing so, he ceased immediately. It was an irksome habit, and one he’d not take up even if he felt lighter in spirit than he had in a long time. He’d telegraphed Ada yesterday and ought to hear back from her today. He tried mightily to be optimistic, to be certain she’d come to her senses and return home so they could be married at last.
But even though that optimism was difficult to maintain, his mood, he realized, was due to the fact that he’d finally have an answer from her.
As he cleaned the mud off his boots outside the store, he forced himself to imagine what Ada might like best about helping at the store. He tried to picture her waiting on customers with Molly, but he couldn’t see her being as polite and patient with the dusty cowboys or the older women who could hardly hear. She despised sewing, so she couldn’t help with Ma’s mending business. That was fine, considering he would hate to displace Miss Daniels. Perhaps Ada might enjoy writing away for orders of new goods and arranging them on the shelves and in the storeroom.
Even still, he had a hard time conjuring that image. Ada preferred parties to writing letters, and she had a hard time remaining in one place for very long. To be honest, he almost dreaded asking her what she might like to do to occupy her time at the store.
If she returned home, that was.
“Good morning, Mr. Hill,” a soft voice said from behind him.
Just the sound of it brought a smile to his face. Miss Daniels was like a spring breeze, with her unassuming demeanor and sunshine-colored hair. He imagined she could find happiness anywhere, be it his store or a lonely farmhouse or a bustling city. And that thought only made him wonder from where she’d come. Of course, there was no polite way to ask such a thing. His mother likely knew, but if he asked her, she’d assume feelings he’d rather she not.
“Good morning, Miss Daniels,” was all he said instead.
“I wish to thank you again for this opportunity.” She clutched her reticule to her stomach as if the thing might grow legs and walk off on its own.
“It’s me who ought to be thanking you. You’re helping us with the work and you’ve given my mother company.” He held the door open for her, but she didn’t step inside.
“Mrs. Hill is a delight. But Mr. Hill, I have something I need to discuss with you.” She glanced about her as if she were keeping a grave secret she wanted no one to hear.
“Of course—”
“Hill! I hoped you’d be open. I need supplies immediately. Someone made off with half our equipment overnight.” Granger Talbott, a very tall, very thin man about twenty years’ Jasper’s senior, appeared beside them, sweat dripping down his face. He fought to catch his breath, and Jasper thought the man might have run clear across town.
“Come on in.” Jasper gestured at the open door, and Talbott walked through, wiping at his face with a handkerchief. “Let me see about Mr. Talbott, and then we can speak,” he said to Miss Daniels.
She nodded, but she pushed her lips together and a crease appeared in her brow. As she brushed inside the store, that reticule still clasped to her, he wondered what might be troubling her so much. Could it be Burcham? Jasper hadn’t seen the man of late, but if he was trifling with Miss Daniels, Jasper would make him wish he’d never heard her name.
It turned out Talbott needed to replenish tools and othe
r items for the building of the new courthouse. Jasper sold him all he had, paid a boy to fetch a wagon and horse from the livery to carry it all, and then sent the man off to Mack’s lumberyard and the hardware store for the remainder. A stream of people made their way into the store after that, and it wasn’t until lunchtime that Jasper finally had a moment to catch his breath, much less speak to Miss Daniels.
When Molly and his mother retreated to the back room to prepare the lunch they’d brought from home that morning, Miss Daniels approached him at the counter, that reticule held tightly under her arm.
“Might I ask whether you’re keeping the crown jewels or the Vanderbilt fortune in that thing?” Jasper nodded to her reticule as he exited from around the counter.
A smile traced its way across her lips. All because of his little joke. Something about that lightened his mood even more than the knowledge that he’d have a response from Ada soon. He might even begin whistling again.
“I wish I could say it was either of those, but it’s something much more dire.” She opened the small bag and extracted a piece of folded brown paper.
Jasper took it from her and unfolded it, laying it on the counter. He read it once, then a second time. It was cryptic but something about it felt strange. If alive. Prepare to leave town. He frowned at the paper. “How did you come by this?”
“It was in one of the shirts I began mending late yesterday. The chambray on top of the finished items, there.” She pointed at a neat stack of folded shirts and pants and coats.
Jasper crossed to the mending corner and lifted the shirt. It certainly appeared innocent enough, although he doubted a shirt could appear any other way. “Where’s the name?”
“That’s just it,” Miss Daniels said, coming to stand beside him. “There isn’t one. I asked your mother earlier, and she says she doesn’t remember who dropped it off. I don’t know how we didn’t pin a name to it, but Mrs. Hill says it happens occasionally when the store is busy. She simply waits for the customer to return and asks him to describe the article of clothing.”
“It could be nothing, but I want to alert the sheriff,” Jasper said, tossing the shirt back onto the stack. Miss Daniels immediately retrieved it and folded it neatly. He imagined she’d be the sort of woman to keep a home in pristine condition. Everything about her seemed the opposite of Ada, who left glasses and books and other diversions where she’d last been using them, seemingly unaware of the clutter she’d created.
“What should we do if the man returns for his shirt?” Miss Daniels asked.
Jasper thought for a moment. “We won’t want to raise any suspicion—provided there are ill intentions behind that note. If you can ascertain his name, do so, but then give him his shirt and allow him to leave. Take note of his appearance, and let me know immediately so I can inform the sheriff.”
She nodded, even though her lips had pushed together again. It seemed to be a habit she had when she was nervous. Jasper had the strangest urge to touch her cheek and tell her all would be well. He clasped his hands behind his back and fixed a neutral expression onto his face.
“All right. Should Mrs. Hill know of the situation?”
“No,” Jasper said quickly. “I don’t wish to worry her. Please, if you don’t mind, keep this in confidence between us.”
“I will,” she said softly. Her sweet blue eyes seemed to trace his face, and Jasper almost wished she’d never look away.
“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice coming out more strangled than it ought to.
“Lunch is ready,” Molly called from the door.
Miss Daniels drew her gaze from Jasper to his sister, and he couldn’t figure out if he was relieved or disheartened. He shook his head at his foolishness as he followed her to the back room. Until he heard otherwise from Ada, he needed to plan on her arrival.
She’s toying with you. Molly’s words—spoken to him about Ada on more than one occasion over the years—ran through his mind again. He ran a hand through his hair. She’d wire him today. She had to. And then it would be easy to put these doubts—and these errant thoughts about Miss Daniels—to the side.
Chapter Nine
Grace’s arms strained as Molly lifted another sack of flour into them. With her arms full, Grace peered around the stack to find her way to the appropriate place in the storeroom. As she arranged the sacks on the shelf, Molly joined her with two more.
“Is that all of it?” Grace asked.
“Yes, thankfully. I don’t know where Jasper got off to. He’s usually the one who puts these away.” Molly straightened and rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, pushing wisps of nearly black hair to the side.
Grace knew exactly where Mr. Hill had gone—the sheriff’s office. But it had been some time now, and she’d expected him to have returned by this point. Unless the sheriff knew who had written the note . . . Perhaps he needed Mr. Hill’s help to track down the man responsible. Mr. Hill would acquiesce, of course. He didn’t seem the sort of man who feared much of anything. But the idea of him becoming involved in the plots of outlaws—provided that was what the note contained—made Grace feel as though she might be sick.
“Come, let’s have some of that lemonade Mama made earlier.” Molly led the way from the storeroom to the other smaller room in the rear of the building that served as both an office and a place to take meals. It was the opposite of the rear room in Mr. Trace’s shop. Unlike that space, this one was cozy, with a little window to let the sunlight stream through.
“I’ll bring Mrs. Hill a glass,” Grace said as she opened a cabinet.
“She’d appreciate that,” Molly said as she poured. “She’s quite taken with you, you know. She always wanted more children after Jasper and myself, but it wasn’t to be. I believe she’s beginning to see you as another daughter.” Molly said this without a trace of jealousy.
“I enjoy her company too. She reminds me of my own mother. I lost her only a year ago.” Grace took a sip of lemonade to hide the sadness that always arose when she thought of Mama.
“I’m so sorry.” Molly rested a hand on Grace’s arm. The sweet gesture immediately brought Lily and Emma to mind, making Grace’s heart constrict. They were the only family she had left, and she missed them dearly.
“You would have loved having a sister,” Grace said. “I have two. We bickered, of course, but there is no one I’ve ever been closer to than Emma and Lily.”
“I always wished for one. I adore him, but Jasper was such a pest to me when we were children. When he wasn’t trying to boss me about, that is,” Molly said with a grin. “I imagine you miss your sisters dearly.”
“I do.” Grace wrapped her hands around the glass. “They’re part of the reason I chose to write to Mr. Burcham.”
Molly raised an eyebrow, looking so much like her brother that Grace wanted to laugh.
“Emma is in California, but Lily lives in Crest Stone, which I believe isn’t far from here,” Grace said.
“Yes! I haven’t been, but it’s supposed to be a lovely little town. It’s but a mere train ride south of here. You ought to visit her. Or ask her to visit you! We could have so much fun together.”
Grace’s heart lightened at Molly’s enthusiasm. She hadn’t met Lily, and yet she was certain they’d be fast friends. Until she remembered that meant she’d also need to tell her sister of her own misfortune. No . . . She’d wait. Until she met a good man here. Then the memory of Mr. Burcham’s betrayal wouldn’t sting so much. And she’d be far less embarrassed to regale her sister with the story. “I will. Soon,” she said to keep Molly from trying to persuade her otherwise.
They finished their lemonade, and Molly offered to wash the glasses as Grace returned to the store to deliver another glass to Mrs. Hill and take up her mending again.
Grace sat to begin work on hemming a pair of trousers, and Mrs. Hill told her of all the upcoming social events and filled her in on the latest escape attempt from the penitentiary at the edge of town. The rest
of the afternoon passed quietly and amiably, and before she knew it, it was time for the store to close.
Jasper arrived just as Molly was about to lock the door.
“How kind of you to return,” his sister said, a hand on her hip.
Jasper held up a hand. “I was making business calls. And you’ll be happy to know I secured a contract with the McClure to provide them with new linens.”
Molly’s irritated frown quickly changed to a grin. “That’s wonderful! It’s such a large hotel. I wonder how many they’ll need? Oh, Jasper, if anyone could have convinced them, it was you.” She gave her brother a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to take Ma home. Why don’t you walk Grace back to Mrs. Geary’s?” And with an almost imperceptible wink at Grace, she gathered her reticule and went to collect her mother.
Grace’s cheeks went hot, even though she knew Mr. Hill had no way to see the look Molly had given her. Why had she done that? Grace hadn’t said anything to Molly about her brother, and she certainly didn’t think she’d done anything to make Molly suspect she harbored feelings for Mr. Hill. Unless Mr. Hill had said something himself to Molly?
Her face went warmer even as she told herself that was impossible. Mr. Hill was going to marry Ada Boone. At least that was what Mrs. Hill had said, even though she clearly disliked Miss Boone. Perhaps Grace had imagined that wink from Molly.
“Are you quite all right?” Mr. Hill was looking at her now, with that intense expression he often wore. No wonder he’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted in his business dealings today. How could anyone say no to him?
“I’m fine,” she said a bit too quickly. She pressed a palm to her cheek in the hopes the pink of it had faded. “Did you speak with the sheriff?” she asked in a low voice.
His eyes went quickly to his mother, who was with Molly in the mending corner. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you outside.”
