by Dorothy Love
Ethan thought of the money Sophie soon would be earning through her Blue Smoke magazine work, once he had the chance to tell her about it. Once the contract was signed, her income would be assured. And if he had learned anything about the people of Hickory Ridge, it was that they pulled together to help out a person in need. He had a sneaking suspicion that some of her lost advertising clients just might make their way back to the Gazette office once it was up and running again, despite Horace’s ban. He thought of Joel’s offer to quit Blue Smoke and come to work for him. “You might be surprised. About a lot of things.”
“What in blue blazes are you talking about?”
Ethan headed for the door. “I’ve got a crew all lined up and the materials on order. I’m seeing to the repair myself.”
Horace rose from his desk, rattling the delicate bone china on his breakfast tray. “You’re turning against me? Against Blue Smoke? After all I’ve done for you?”
“I’ve given you a good day’s work for every day I’ve been here.”
Horace frowned. “Just whose side are you on, Heyward?”
Ethan pictured Sophie’s dear face the way it had looked in the light of the dancing flames, so full of worry, defeat, and fear. He paused, one hand on the doorknob.
“Hers.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Sophie burrowed into the folds of her borrowed coat and tilted her head, watching Joel Tipton and two other men walking gingerly across her burned-out roof. The sounds of hammers and saws filled the air as the men removed the charred timbers and cut new ones. Caleb and Mr. O’Brien were busy carting the old timbers to a waiting wagon and helping hoist the new ones onto the roof.
Down below, Ethan and Jasper Pruitt lifted a new window into place. Sophie watched as Ethan tapped his hammer, patiently setting the new window into its frame. Behind her, Mariah Whiting, Carrie Rutledge, and Robbie’s wife, Ethelinda, were busy setting out platters of fried chicken from Miss Hattie’s, dozens of homemade dishes, and baskets of bread from the bakery.
The morning train chuffed into the station and a steady stream of travelers surged toward the platform. Now that Blue Smoke had closed for the season, a number of the waiters, gardeners, stableboys, kitchen helpers, and housekeepers had headed home until spring. Most of the ladies from the Verandah were already gone; only Flora and Merribelle had nowhere else to go. Lonely for them, perhaps, but Sophie was grateful for their company. The old hotel seemed too quiet already without the constant squeak of the stairs, the groaning of the water pipes, and the residents’ friendly banter.
Sheriff McCracken ambled up the street, his coattails flapping in the sharp November wind. He sent Sophie a crooked smile. “Morning, Miss Caldwell.”
“Sheriff.” With a sweep of her hand, she took in the busy scene. “Can you believe all this?”
“Doesn’t surprise me in the least. We look after our own.” He pushed his hat to the back of his head. “Believe me, when word got around about the fire, I got an earful from the ladies. They’re ready for me to hang Lutrell Crocker from the nearest tree.”
Sophie nodded. “For shooting Mr. Worth.”
“Nope. For nearly burning down the Answer Lady’s office.”
Her stomach dropped. “Mr. Crocker is responsible for this?”
“He confessed, though he claims it was an accident.”
Just then Gillie arrived. She jumped from her rig and crossed the street, her hands jammed into her pockets. “Sophie, I have big news. Hello, Sheriff.”
He tipped his hat. “Miss Gilman. I reckon I ought to give the boys a hand hoisting those rafters.”
“I appreciate your help, Sheriff McCracken,” Sophie said. “And thanks for telling me about Mr. Crocker. I feel better knowing who is responsible for this fine mess.” She paused. “May I ask a favor?”
“Go ahead.”
“Would you please not mention this to Wyatt and Ada? It’s over now, and I’m all right, and it would only worry them to think someone wanted to burn me out. I’ll write to them later, after I’m up and running again.”
“If that’s what you want.” The sheriff took a small leather pouch from inside his coat. “I almost forgot. Caleb Stanhope said you were looking for this.”
Her fingers closed over Julian’s missing evidence. Maybe now he could prove his innocence, and Ethan would regain one small part of his lost family. Did he truly realize how important that one connection could be?
Sheriff McCracken joined Joel and the other men who were nailing new rafters into place. Ethan and Jasper finished with the window and starting picking up their tools. The clang of hammers, Ethan’s low banter, and Jasper’s raspy laugh filled the air. So much busyness, so much generosity, gave Sophie hope. Maybe the paper would survive after all. Maybe she’d try Mr. McClure’s syndicate again.
She grinned at Gillie. “What’s your news?”
“You first. What did the sheriff want?”
“Mr. Crocker, the would-be assassin, confessed to burning my building. He claims he didn’t mean to do it.”
Gillie whistled softly. “Do you believe that?”
“It’s possible. He was stinking drunk that night. I’m surprised he remembers anything.”
“He’s probably trying to avoid a longer stretch in jail,” Gillie said. “Daddy says Judge Madison is much harsher than old Judge Blackburn was. Maybe this Crocker fellow thinks he’ll get a shorter sentence if he admits to everything.”
“Maybe.” Sophie clutched the leather pouch. Should she wait until Julian was stronger and return it to him, or should she hand it over to Ethan?
Gillie snapped her fingers. “Are you listening to me?”
“Sorry. What?”
“I delivered a baby last night all on my own. A strapping boy. Mother and son are in fine fettle over at the infirmary. I was just about to go out there to check on them and on Mr. Worth.”
“That’s wonderful, Gillie. Congratulations. Is Mr. Worth any better?”
“He managed to sip some broth yesterday, and he was awake for most of the morning. Dr. Spencer has weaned him off the laudanum. We are much encouraged.”
“That’s good news.”
Gillie nodded. “He’s worried about his little boy back home.”
“Ethan wired Julian’s wife about the accident. We’re waiting for a reply about his son. I do hope the boy is all right.”
“Sophie?” Ethelinda Whiting made her way through the small knot of women gathering near the food tables. “Mariah wonders if you can give us a hand.”
“Of course. I’ll be right there.”
“I should go check on my new patients,” Gillie said as Ethelinda bustled away. “I stopped to ask whether you’ll come out to the farm for Thanksgiving. Mother has planned enough food to feed the Confederate army. All my dreary cousins will be there, and I’m sure Mother will round up some more gentlemen in hopes of finding a suitable husband for me. I could use a friend to help me ward them off.”
Sophie laughed. “You’re the only girl I know who’s trying desperately not to find a husband.”
Gillie blushed and lowered her voice. “Can you keep a secret? There is someone I like, but I know my parents won’t approve.”
“Caleb Stanhope?”
Gillie’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“A lucky guess.”
“I don’t believe you.” Gillie clutched Sophie’s arm. “Has he said anything? About his feelings for me, I mean.”
A couple of workmen brushed past them carrying boxes of nails, perfuming the air with the smells of sweat and new wood. Sophie wrinkled her nose as they passed. “Mr. Stanhope thinks most highly of you. He’s afraid you might find him unsuitable.”
“Oh, that dear man! But what should I do? I can’t very well walk up and declare my feelings, can I? You’re the Answer Lady. Give me some advice.”
“I’m afraid I’m not very good at giving advice in matters of the heart.” Sophie looked for Ethan and spotted him standing with Joe
l near the water buckets, dipper in hand. Joel said something that made Ethan laugh, and Sophie’s breath caught. Despite all her troubles, she couldn’t stop imagining a life with Ethan.
“I see,” Gillie said. “You don’t know what to do about the love of your life either.”
“It’s confusing. He loves me—I’m sure of that. Though he hasn’t precisely said so.” Sophie sighed, thinking of everything that had happened between them, everything that they still didn’t know about one another. “Perhaps he simply can’t imagine a future with me.”
“I think you worry far too much,” Gillie said. “Ethan’s had a lot on his mind lately repairing the infirmary, and then poor Mr. Worth’s injury, and then the fire. Not to mention taking care of his work at Blue Smoke.” Gillie grinned. “However, you are fairly irresistible, so I imagine Mr. Heyward will come around sooner or later.”
“Maybe.” Sophie glanced toward the food tables. “I should go help the ladies get dinner ready.”
“And I must check on my new mother and help Dr. Spencer change Mr. Worth’s dressings. But do say you’ll come out for Thanksgiving. I need some reason to get out of bed that day.”
Sophie laughed. “I promised Lucy I’d go to church with her and Flora on Thursday morning. But I could drive out after that, if it isn’t too late.”
“Heavens, no. We won’t get to eat until three at the earliest.” Gillie started for her rig. “Tell Mr. Heyward he’s invited too.”
“What am I invited to?” Ethan’s breath was soft on her ear.
Sophie spun around. “You startled me.”
“Sorry. I was trying to see Miss Gilman before she got away. Is there any news about Julian?”
Sophie gave him Gillie’s report and handed him the leather pouch. “The sheriff recovered this. From Mr. Crocker, I presume.”
She watched Ethan run his fingers over the smooth leather. How could he bear not to open it, to see for himself the evidence of Julian’s innocence—if, indeed, that was what it contained? But he tucked it into his coat pocket, the expression in his eyes unreadable. “Do you have a moment?”
“I must help the ladies with the food, but I can spare a few moments.”
“Then I’ll be quick. Remember when I told you I had a plan to help you recover your lost revenue?”
“I remember. But it’s been so long, I thought you might have forgotten.”
“I never forget a promise, Sophie.”
Briefly, he told her about the articles he needed for the magazines. “Horace told me to take care of it, and you’re the best writer I know. So the job is yours if you want it.”
“Of course I want it! Ethan, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” He paused. “I’ve got the contracts ready for you. But I want to see Julian this afternoon. Will you come with me?” His voice cracked, and she saw just how much he wanted to make things right with his brother.
“I’ll come with you.”
He squeezed her hand and went to join Joel, Jasper, Caleb, and the others who had finished repairing the hole in the roof. Ethan took off his hat and stood back, his coat unbuttoned, one hip cocked, and admired their handiwork. She couldn’t help noticing that Flora and Merribelle had stopped their preparations to admire him.
Well, she could hardly blame them. Even in dusty dungarees and a faded work shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows despite the chill, Ethan Heyward was the most appealing man in Hickory Ridge. And the kindest. And the most complicated.
Sophie helped Mrs. Whiting and the others set out stacks of plates and uncover the platters and bowls of food, but her thoughts were for Ethan and his estranged brother.
After so many years of bitterness and hate, could they find a way home?
TWENTY-EIGHT
By the time the men were fed and the empty bowls and platters stacked away, the sun had slipped behind the mountain and the wind picked up, bringing with it the smells of wood smoke and rain.
While Ethan helped Joel and his crew load their wagons, Sophie helped Ethelinda pack the last of the food. She held one end of a long tablecloth while Ethelinda folded it in halves and then in halves again.
“I’m so glad the damage to your office wasn’t worse,” Ethelinda said. “Robbie was frantic when he saw the smoke billowing.” Her eyes met Sophie’s. “He’s very fond of you.”
“As I am of him. Even as a boy, he was kind and thoughtful. His friendship was a gift to me in those days.”
“I hope it still is.”
“Of course.” Sophie handed Ethelinda the folded tablecloth and picked up a blue-and-white checked one. “He’s a talented preacher. His sermons always give me food for thought.” She smiled. “Wyatt used to say Robbie could talk the legs off a mule. I wasn’t a bit surprised to learn he studied law. He’d have made a fine lawyer too.”
“Yes, but I’m very glad he chose the ministry. I feel I can be more useful to him than if he were writing up wills and deeds and such.”
Sophie watched Joel, Caleb, and Jasper head for home. Most of the ladies were packing up too, loading baskets and dishes into wagons and rigs. Ethelinda drew her shawl around her shoulders and picked up the folded tablecloths. “I think that does it. I should be getting home.”
“Thank you for helping with this.”
Ethelinda nodded. “I’ll see you in church tomorrow—and Thanksgiving too?”
Sophie smiled. “I’ll be there. I’m looking forward to it.”
Ethelinda hurried away, passing Ethan, who touched the brim of his hat as he headed toward Sophie.
“Ready to go?”
“In a minute.” Sophie stood with her hands in her coat pockets and studied her building. Once the new wood was painted and her new typewriting machine, paper, and ink arrived, she could begin publishing again. It would take the last of her savings to do so, but the fire had taught her just how committed she was to this community and to the paper. She couldn’t quit just because the job had become harder.
“God will provide,” Ada often said. He would provide for her now.
She took Ethan’s arm. He helped her into his rig, and in the growing darkness they drove the short distance to the infirmary. Ethan guided the horse through the wrought-iron gate. Gillie’s rig, and Dr. Spencer’s, stood in the side yard. Lamplight glowed in the first-floor windows.
Dr. Spencer met them in the entry hall. “Evening, Miss Caldwell. Mr. Heyward.”
Ethan shook the doctor’s hand. “How is he?”
“He had a slight fever this morning, but it seems to have abated. I’m still treating his wound with the carbolic acid compresses. They’re painful, I’m afraid, but necessary. Miss Gilman tells me his appetite has returned. A good sign.”
Ethan let out a long sigh. “That’s good news. But isn’t there anything we can do to hasten his recovery?”
Dr. Spencer passed a hand over his tired-looking face. “I’m afraid not, son. Unfortunately, a soft lead bullet like that tends to inflict the most damage to human flesh. Mr. Worth is over the worst of it, but his wound will have to heal on its own. What he needs now is bed rest and good food. Time will take care of—”
A blast of cold air interrupted him as the door flew open to admit an anxious-looking young man.
“May I help you?” the doctor asked.
“Oh. No. I mean yes! That is, my wife had a baby yesterday, and I’m here to take ’em home. If you think it’s all right.”
“It’s fine.” The doctor pointed down the long hallway. “First door on the right. I think my assistant is with them now.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” the new father said. “We lost a baby before we moved to Hickory Ridge. My wife was afraid it would happen again. I’m glad we had the infirmary this time.”
He headed down the hall, and the doctor retrieved his coat, hat, and medical bag. “If you folks will excuse me, I think I’ll go on home. I was up half of last night with the Purdys’ little girl and out at the lumber mill
all morning tending to Davy Blevins.” He shook his head. “The boy got careless with the saw and nearly severed a couple fingers.”
The young father and his wife came down the hallway, the baby swaddled and tucked into the crook of his mother’s arm. Gillie, grinning from ear to ear, followed them. Sophie smiled, too, at her friend’s happiness.
The young man paused, turning his battered felt hat around and around in his hands. “Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sure it’s not the first time, but me and Anna want to name our boy Gilman Spencer, after the two of you. Because Miss Gilman delivered him, and she says you’re the one who taught her how to bring a baby into the world. We aim to call him Spence if that’s all right with you.”
The doctor smiled. “I’m honored. I hope he grows into a sturdy young man.”
“Well, it’s the first time a baby has been named for me,” Gillie said, “and I think it’s completely wonderful.”
“Come on, honey.” The new father ushered his little family into the darkness. Gillie, her arms folded across her chest, beamed at them.
“I’m going home,” Dr. Spencer said, “before Eugenie forgets what I look like. Send for me if you need me, Gillie.”
“I will.”
“And congratulations on your first delivery. You did a fine job, as I knew you would.”
“I had a good teacher.”
“Just don’t go thinking they will all be this easy. They won’t.”
“No, sir.”
“Well, good night, all.” The doctor pointed a finger at Ethan. “Don’t keep Mr. Worth up too late. He needs his rest.”
He left, the door slapping shut behind him.
“Mr. Worth is awake,” Gillie said. “You can go on in. I’ll be here awhile longer. Our salesman is due to arrive on tomorrow’s train, so I need to inventory our supplies and make up a new order.” She squeezed Sophie’s arm. “I’ll see you on Thanksgiving, I hope. You too, Mr. Heyward.”
Ethan nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
