Courting Miss Callie

by Dorothy Clark

  But he couldn’t—not until she listened to him and gave him her trust. That had to come first. Who knew what sly, nefarious purpose she would ascribe to his courting her if she did not learn to trust him first?

  His stride lengthened, his hands fisted. He was getting sick of this frustration. What more could he do to show Callie she could trust him? To prove to her he was an honorable man—a man of his word?

  He swerved onto the property he’d purchased, stopped and stared at the dark shadow that was the cluster of towering elms.

  Go back to New York City. He could still see the flash of sparks in Callie’s beautiful violet-blue eyes when she’d spoken those words. But the sparks had died, smothered by doubt at his answer. That will never happen, Callie. All I want is here in Pinewood. I’m not leaving.

  He looked at the elms, their top leaves kissed by silver moonlight, their trunks lost in the darkness of their own shadows. He walked closer, studied the lay of the land. Their land. It was time to show Miss Callie Conner he meant exactly what he’d said.

  * * *

  Moonlight filtering through the branches of the tree outside her window made silver and black patterns on the floor. Callie put the cloth and scissors back into her sewing box, removed her dressing gown and slipped into bed, her fingertip curled into her palm to protect it.

  There was no sound of movement overhead. She straightened her finger and stared at the bandage. He’d been so gentle with her. It was amazing that his strong hands could be that tender. She couldn’t imagine Jacob Strand or any of the other Buffalo men who had courted her bothering themselves over her cut, let alone tending it. Was Willa right? Was she allowing her experiences with them to cloud her judgement of Ezra? Was she wrong to suspect his motives?

  She turned onto her side, slipped her hand beneath her cheek and closed her eyes.

  Papa says Mr. Ryder is going to build a bank, and that it will be a wonderful thing for Pinewood.

  We can all thank Mr. Ryder for both. He is bringing new prosperity to Pinewood.

  She frowned, opened her eyes and stared at the blotches of moonlight on the floor. It made no sense at all that a man with his prestige and wealth would not return to his businesses and fancy lifestyle in New York City. If she could only discover what he hoped to gain by staying here—if indeed he did stay—she would be able to protect her aunt from any hurt he might cause her.

  All I want is here in Pinewood. I’m not leaving. That’s what Ezra had said when she’d told him to go back to the city. But she knew better than to put her trust in a man’s words.

  A floorboard squeaked overhead. A door closed. Footsteps crossed the room.

  Ezra. No wonder it had been quiet upstairs. He’d been gone. Where would he go this time of night? She sat up and heard muted whistling, the scrape of a chair. More drawing? What was it to be this time—a store, an insurance company—something else to excite the people of Pinewood?

  She rose and slid her feet into her slippers, grabbed her dressing gown and shrugged into it on her way to the porch. She swallowed back tears, and crossed to the railing. The light from his lamp was a soft golden glow in the thin moonlight. She turned and walked to the end of the porch.

  “Almighty God, I don’t understand what is happening. I’m so confused and...and heartsick—” Her whisper broke off. She caught her breath and pressed her hand against the tightness in her chest. “I asked You to have Your way before, and I ask it again now, for I can trust neither my heart nor my mind. And I certainly cannot trust Ezra Ryder’s words.”

  The tears welled, spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, why does he stay? What is he after? Your Word says You know the hearts of men. Please, please reveal the truth to me that I might know beyond doubt. Amen.”

  She lifted her hands and wiped the tears from her face, felt the brush of the bandage ties against her skin. The salve had helped—her finger had stopped paining her. If only there were a salve for her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Where is Agnes?”

  Finished. Callie added the plate she’d dried to the stack sitting on the worktable, hung the towel on its peg to dry and looked at her aunt. “I noticed Otis was watering the horses at the trough, so I sent her to the barn with the last two pieces of molasses cake. Joe loves my molasses cake.”

  “Why, you little matchmaker! I hope it works.” Sophia laughed and picked up the plates, carried them to the step back cupboard and set them on the shelf. “My accounting for the day’s restaurant receipts is finished. I was unsure of exactly what to record so it took me longer than I expected. I’d still be working on them if Ezra hadn’t shown me what to do.”

  Ezra. Why did her heart have to jump every time someone spoke his name? “He’s very helpful to you.”

  “Yes.” Sophia fixed her gaze on her.

  She turned and dumped the pan of rinse water into the bucket on the shelf beneath the washstand to hide her face.

  “We’ve all had a very busy day, but you especially so, Callie. I came to help as soon as I was free. Have you more to do?”

  “No, I’m finished.” She untied the strings of her apron, slipped it off and draped it over its peg. “Agnes is going to set the bread dough for tomorrow. I can’t do the kneading very well with a bandage on my finger.”

  “How is your finger? Is it better?”

  “Yes, much better. It’s tender to the touch, but it no longer pains me.” She held up her hand and wiggled her finger as proof.

  Sophia stepped close, took hold of her hand. “How did you tie the bandage on the back of your finger that way?”

  “I didn’t. Ezra bandaged it for me.” She couldn’t stop the betraying heat that climbed into her cheeks at the memory. Or the tears that clogged her throat.

  “I see.”

  She looked into her aunt’s keen gaze and withdrew her hand. “There is nothing to see, Aunt Sophia. My finger pained me so I couldn’t sleep, and I came into the kitchen for the salve. Ezra noticed the light and came to make certain there was nothing wrong. When he noticed my plight he helped me, that’s all.”

  “Then why are you blushing?”

  Because I have a foolish heart that wants to make more of a kiss on the palm than was meant. “I was in my dressing gown and my hair was down.”

  “Oh, my. Poor Ezra.”

  She stared at Sophia. “What does that mean...‘poor Ezra’?”

  Sophia shook her head. “It means only that Ezra is a young man and you are a very beautiful young woman.”

  That would explain the look in his eyes when he’d kissed her palm.

  “Shall we go into the sitting room and relax, dear? We’ve been too busy the last few days to have a chance to chat.”

  Her stomach churned. She pushed back a curl at her temple and nodded. “Yes, I’ve much to tell you.” Her voice faltered. She took a breath. “I had a letter from Mother yesterday. I...didn’t read it until this morning.”

  Sophia stepped through the sitting room door, paused and looked at her. “Penelope said something that disturbed you.”

  “Yes. Mother said she and Father were taking ship for London—that they would be well on their way before I received the letter.” She walked to the window and looked outside. I asked You to reveal the truth to me, Lord, and You have. Please help me to get through this without breaking down.

  Sophia’s satin dress rustled as she stepped close, her hand touched her arm. “Are you concerned for their safety, dear?”

  “No...” She clenched her hands, took a breath to stop the swirling nausea. “I’m concerned because Mother asked me to thank Mr. Ryder for them. It seems Jacob Strand bought Father’s blessing on our ‘betrothal’ by paying off a loan the bank held on Father’s house. Only instead of giving Father the paper clearing the debt as agreed, he used the house as partial sur
ety for a loan when he purchased a property on King Street. Ezra bought that loan.”

  Shivers took her. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms about herself. “I remember that being mentioned at the church when Ezra came after me, but not clearly. Everything happened so fast, and I was so confused and upset—” Tears stung her eyes, seeped between her lashes. “But I was telling you what Mother wrote. Ezra sent Father a relinquishment of collateral letter which freed the house of all encumbrance, thus allowing Father to borrow the money for their trip to London. They are grateful to Mr. Ryder for his largess, and—” Her voice broke, tears flowed down her cheeks. “—and Father sends his blessing on Mr. Ryder’s courtship of me.”

  “Oh, Callie dear, don’t cry.” Sophia clasped her arms, turned her around to face her. “Let Ezra explain—”

  “That he is buying me—the same as Jacob Strand and all the others tried to do?” She stepped back out of Sophia’s grasp, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “The only difference is that Ezra is paying a higher price. He had to pay off the loan on the hotel, as well as the one on Father’s house. I suppose I should be flattered, but I’m not. I am not for sale!”

  “Callie dear, you’re wrong—”

  “Tell that to Father and Mother who are so thankful for Mr. Ryder’s request for Father’s blessing.” Her voice quavered, her stomach clenched so painfully she could barely breathe. “I not only do not want to listen to Mr. Ryder’s glib explanations—I never want to see him again—though that is impossible with him living here. I can only pray that he will give up his fruitless pursuit of me and leave.” She started for the door.

  “Callie, wait!”

  She shook her head and kept walking. She wanted to run...to cry out the agony tearing at her heart, but there was no place for her to go. Ezra was much smarter than Jacob Strand—Ezra had won Aunt Sophia’s regard.

  She skirted the dining table in the kitchen, stepped out onto the porch and looked toward the river path—the deer path. Not there. He had ruined that for her, also.

  She clenched her hands and walked around to the front of the hotel, looked across the street to the parsonage. No. Willa thought she was wrong about Ezra, also. And the children were there.

  She stepped into the street, nodded to the driver of a passing wagon and angled past the church and the park. She crossed Oak Street and walked on toward the tree-dotted field that bordered the road as far as she could see.

  She turned into the empty land, her elongated shadow caused by the setting sun going before her. She had asked for the truth, and she had received the truth. How could she love such a man? How could she? A sob burst from her throat, and tears gushed from her eyes.

  She snatched up her hems and ran toward a cluster of elms, heedless of the tall grasses grabbing at her skirts and stockings, threw herself down on the ground in the shadow at a tree’s base and cried out her anguish where no one could witness her pain.

  * * *

  “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know, Ezra. I looked in her room and checked with Willa. She hadn’t seen her.”

  He looked into Sophia’s eyes dark with distress and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Sophia. No harm will come to her.”

  “I know. It’s only that this isn’t like Callie.”

  “I think I may know where she is.”

  He hurried to the kitchen and out the back door, leaped the steps and trotted past the buttery, his mind filling with the memory of that night he’d rescued her from Jacob Strand.

  I loathe that man, Ezra. And all of the other wealthy, arrogant men that were bidding for my hand, as well.

  What had he done? He ran down the path through the field toward the river, his feet pounding, his lungs straining.

  They think their wealth and prestige sets them above everyone else—that their money can buy anything, even a wife. Well, I am not for sale!

  What a bumbling fool he was. What had he been thinking, sending that relinquishment of collateral in the same post with his request for permission to court Callie. Of course her father would interpret it to mean he was buying his blessing. That’s the way the minds of men like that worked. He knew that. He’d come up against them in business deals often enough. And now Callie thought he was the same.

  He ducked beneath a branch and ran along the deer path to the place where he’d picked the pussy willow sprig for Callie, stopped and stared at the empty space.

  “Callie!” He moved forward, quietly now, his heart pounding, his breath labored. “Callie, can you hear me?”

  What made him think she would answer him if she did hear? He clenched his hands, held his breath and listened for any sound of movement. There was nothing.

  He looked up at the sun sinking behind the hill. It would be dark soon. He thought about bears and bobcats and other wild animals.

  “God, please keep her safe. And please allow me to explain to her... I love her, Lord. You know I love her.”

  How far would she go? How far would her anger drive her? He set his jaw and continued up the path, a sick, hollow feeling in his gut as he looked for her shoe prints in the soft forest loam.

  * * *

  There was a quiet rustling in the grass. Callie lifted her head off of her crossed arms, and blinked her burning, swollen eyes. Night had fallen.

  She pushed herself to her knees and sat back on her heels, wiped the moisture off her cheeks, too tired to do more. The rustling came again. A snake? Some loathsome creeping creature? A skunk?

  She rose to her feet and looked around but could see nothing in the darkness beneath the elms. It was brighter in the open area between the trees and the road. She brushed off her bodice and sleeves, shook out her long skirts and started through the grass, drained but determined. She would repay Ezra Ryder every cent. She would find a way. Perhaps she could find employment teaching at the female seminary with Sadie. She hated the thought of leaving Aunt Sophia and Pinewood again, but if she must, she would.

  She stepped onto the road, heard the thud of bootheels against the dirt and looked up. A tall, broad-shouldered man was striding toward her. She froze in place.

  “Callie, are you all right?”

  Matthew. She drew in a breath and started forward again. “I’m fine, Reverend.”

  “Sophia came by to see if you were with Willa. She said you’d gone off by yourself—somewhat upset.”

  She looked into his warm, compassionate gaze and forced a smile. “I’m sorry if I caused Sophia and Willa concern. I needed a little time to myself.”

  He nodded and fell into step beside her, escorted her across the street and to the carriageway. “Willa asked that you come see her tomorrow.”

  She stopped and looked up at him. “Thank you for seeing me home, Reverend.” She let her smile say the rest. “Please tell Willa I may be too busy to come tomorrow as the restaurant takes more of my time now, but I will come as soon as I’m able.”

  “I’ll tell her.” He smiled and dipped his head. “Good night, Callie. May the good Lord bless you and grant you His peace.”

  She supposed the Lord had blessed her—with the truth. Perhaps His peace would follow, though she couldn’t imagine it with the turmoil inside her. She turned and walked to the porch, climbed the steps and paused.

  Sophia rose from the settle by the door.

  She walked to her aunt and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry if I worried you, Aunt Sophia. I had to be alone for a while.”

  Sophia’s hand grasped hers and squeezed. “As long as you’re all right, Callie.”

  She dredged up a smile, thankful for the shadows that hid her swollen eyes. “I will be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”

  Sophia hugged her then stepped aside. “Of course, good night, dear. I pray you sleep well.”

 
She nodded and opened the door, then turned back. “Are you coming in?”

  Sophia shook her head and resumed her place on the settle. “Not yet, Callie. Ezra went to look for you. I’ll wait and tell him you are home safe.”

  Her breath left her. She nodded, stepped inside and closed the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The kitchen was silent, the light from the trimmed lamp on the shelf by the stove only bright enough to reveal the emptiness echoed by the hollow in his gut. The message was clear. She didn’t want to see him.

  “I’m not giving up, Callie.” Ezra whispered the promise into the silence, walked to the back door and went outside.

  The peaceful sounds of the unseen creatures preparing for the dawn stood in stark contrast to the unrest in his spirit. He frowned, walked to the steps then stopped, constrained by the urgent need in his heart. He gripped the porch post beside him and looked up at the graying sky, turned and walked to Callie’s window, cleared the tension from his throat. “I know you’re awake, Callie.”

  He braced his hands against the frame and raised his voice. “I erred badly in sending that post to your father, but my intentions were pure. I wanted his blessing to court you, as would any man. Will you refuse my court merely because I am wealthy?”

  The silence offered no reassurance. He left the porch and took the path to the carriageway. His logger boots crunched against the gravel as he strode out to Main Street, thudded against the hard dirt as he crossed.

  The waning moonlight silvered the landscape. A sense of urgency quickened his steps. The men would be arriving with the dawn, but he couldn’t wait—he had to start now.

  He moved into the field by the church, trod over the flattened grasses until he reached the stakes linked together by heavy string. Moonlight glinted dully on the blades of the shovels waiting there. He picked one up, aligned the blade with the string, placed his boot on the shovel’s shoulder and pushed. The blade sliced into the ground. He worked the handle back and forth to break the grip of the roots, tossed the scoop of dirt aside and started again.