Cassidy

by Lori Wick

  They had more to talk about and covered a lot of ground. But Trace wisely kept his place on one side of the fire, and Cassidy stayed on the other.

  Cassidy tried not to worry as she worked to fall asleep. She had been so certain that her mother would have written her by now, but it hadn’t happened.

  Trust is hard at times like this, Lord, she prayed from her bed on Sunday night. Does everything in my world look right if there’s a letter for me tomorrow, or is everything in my world right at this moment because You are in charge?

  Cassidy knew the answer to this was the measure of faith. Hers felt small right now as she wanted to worry about her mother and felt a very deep ache to have contact with her. She fell asleep asking God to remind her that He was watching over Rhonda Sinclair wherever she was and that Cassidy could trust Him for His plan no matter what.

  Rylan found a note on his door on Monday morning. He didn’t know if it had come early that morning or late the night before, but he hadn’t heard a thing. He was headed out to check with Pete Stillwell at the livery and see how much he was needed that week but instead went back inside long enough to read it. The note was from Cassidy.

  Dear Pastor Rylan,

  If you think it appropriate, I would like to tell my story to the congregation. They have been warm and kind, but I would feel better explaining to everyone why I came to Token Creek as Cassidy Norton and not Cassidy Sinclair. If you have time this week to discuss this with me, I would appreciate hearing from you.

  Sincerely,

  Cassidy

  Rylan put the letter in his pocket and went out the door. He would go ahead to the livery and maybe even check on Abi, but he would also make time to pay a visit to Cassidy today if he could manage it.

  “How are you?” Jeanette asked Cassidy on Monday morning, not having had a chance to visit with her the day before.

  “Doing well. Business is still slower than I’d like, but I haven’t had to touch my savings.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Jeanette said, taking one chair and waiting until Cassidy was comfortable in the other chair. “I assume you and Trace are going to set a date one of these days?”

  Cassidy smiled and said, “I’m assuming the same thing.”

  “I’ll bet you are,” Jeanette had to laugh, but soon went back to business. “Tell me something. If Trace wasn’t in the picture, and you had to make a decision about the business based on only that as your future, how would you handle it?”

  “Like I always have. As long as I can pay my bills, I’m in business. If I don’t have money to buy fabric and supplies—and now I have to add wood to the list—as well as for food to eat, I have to make a change.”

  “When do you think you’ll know?”

  Cassidy looked at nothing in particular and thought out loud. “This is the fourth of October. I’ve had a little bit of business, but I don’t want to take myself down to nothing trying to make this work. I’m thinking that things will have to go back to the way they were very soon, or by the end of the month I’ll be closing.”

  “What if you were only open a few days a week?”

  “That wouldn’t help me unless I find other work. I don’t pay rent on the building, so I don’t have to take that into account, but as I said, I have to eat and replenish my supplies.”

  Jeanette looked thoughtful, and Cassidy watched her. However, it wasn’t long before her curiosity got the best of her.

  “What’s going on, Jeanette?”

  “Well, it might only be a dream that can’t come true, but if you still have enough business and don’t have to close completely, I want to buy you out.”

  Cassidy looked stunned, but Jeanette was not done.

  “I talked with Brad about it yesterday, and he could think of no reason for me not to try it. I don’t want to be open every day like you are—maybe four days a week—but I would still like to do this if Token Creek will support it.”

  “Jeanette,” Cassidy began, but she could not find the words.

  “Do you think I can do it?”

  “Yes! You sew beautifully,” Cassidy said, and she meant it. “And I think being open less is perfect.”

  “If work piled up, I could hire someone to help me or even send things with you if you’re interested.”

  “I’m very interested. You do realize I own the building?”

  “Yes. I would buy that from you and probably rent out the apartment. And if for some reason it didn’t work, I could rent out the shop to some other business owner.”

  Cassidy was not surprised that she’d thought this through. Jeanette had a good head for such things.

  “Well,” Cassidy said, a smile on her face, “if I still have a business, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Jeanette put her hand out. They shook and then laughed like girls before they hugged.

  “So tell me,” Jeanette began, wanting to know about some of the details she wasn’t sure on. There was nothing outstanding to report. Jeanette knew enough about Cassidy’s ways to know how she did things and that the business had been a profitable venture before Edson Sinclair came to town.

  Jeanette was getting ready to leave when Cassidy remembered one more thing she should share.

  “Hiram Brickel didn’t pay for his last order.”

  “Really?” Jeanette asked, surprised. “That won’t do at all. I’ll just go along and collect it for you.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Cassidy said calmly. “Trace said he would speak to Mr. Brickel if I couldn’t make myself clear, but I’ve decided instead to let it go. I only mentioned it so you would understand the gap in the account book.”

  Jeanette looked thoughtful before saying, “I have to see Chandler at the bank. The Brickel mansion is only two more blocks over. I believe I’ll just stop in and see if Token Creek’s richest man is willing to make good on his own debts.”

  Cassidy had to laugh at the mischevious look in Jeanette’s eyes before the older woman started on her way. Cassidy went so far as to walk her outside, smiling at her coated figure as she moved away from the shop. She prayed for Jeanette’s day and also that Hiram would willingly part with the money he owed the dress shop.

  “Hello,” Halston greeted the handsome woman at his door, recognizing her from the dress shop.

  “Hello,” Jeanette greeted in return. “I’m here on behalf of Cassidy Norton. She tells me that Mr. Brickel owes her money from his last order.”

  “Please come in,” Halston invited. “I will check with Mr. Brickel on the matter.”

  Jeanette looked around from her place by the door, seeing what Cassidy had seen on her first visit. Everything was lovely. The ceilings were very high, and in every direction was evidence that no expense had been spared.

  “Where is Cassidy?” Hiram suddenly appeared and questioned as he walked closer to Jeanette.

  “She’s at her shop,” Jeanette answered calmly. “I was coming this way and told her I’d stop for her money.”

  “You’re Trace Holden’s aunt,” Hiram stated, staring hard at her.

  “I am.”

  “Is she really going to marry him?”

  “Yes, she is,” Jeanette said, glad that this had been confirmed in several ways over the weekend.

  “When?”

  “They haven’t told me the date.”

  Several moments of quiet followed this statement. Jeanette wasn’t sure what to do, so she simply held her tongue. When Hiram did speak, his voice was quiet and even, but there was anger in his eyes.

  “Halston will pay you. Tell Cassidy I will not trouble her again.”

  Jeanette was given no time to reply. Hiram went back the way he’d come and shut the door behind him. Halston came swiftly to give her Cassidy’s money and with quiet efficiency, not lacking in charm, saw her to the door.

  Jeanette took herself back toward the bank, finding it in her heart to pity Hiram Brickel. That Cassidy should marry Trace was all too clear. Jeanette wonde
red if the man would ever believe that and stop making himself miserable.

  Tuesday brought warmer temperatures. The cold spell had started turning the leaves on the trees vivid reds, yellows, and oranges. The hills surrounding the town were awash in a kaleidoscope of color. Token Creek had settled into a gentle Indian summer. Folks were moving around town a bit more, and Cassidy noticed the activity the moment she unlocked her shop door. A customer wasn’t long in arriving.

  Mrs. Aliota came in just after Cassidy opened. She had visited only one other time in the history of the business, but Cassidy still had the measurements she’d taken.

  “It’s not for me,” Mrs. Aliota said after just a few minutes. “My husband needs shirts. He says he doesn’t, but he does.”

  “Do you know his size?” Cassidy asked.

  “No, we’ll have to guess.”

  Cassidy was not thrilled with this idea, but Mrs. Aliota could order what she liked. She at least knew who Trace and Brad were and was able to tell Cassidy that her husband was not as tall or broad. When she took her leave, Cassidy had an order she hadn’t expected but no real confidence it would work out.

  She was working numbers in her head, trying to figure out a scaled-down version of Brad’s shirt—Mrs. Aliota had picked the same fabric—when the door opened and Rylan came in.

  “Hi, Cassie,” the big man said. “I got your note.”

  “What do you think?” Cassidy asked.

  “I like the idea. I want our church family to be open about such things. I’m even planning to cut my sermon short so folks can ask questions. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  Cassidy didn’t know why, but she could have wept. It was such a relief to speak of it, and to have Rylan support her.

  “What does Trace think of your doing this?” Rylan asked.

  “I just thought of it this morning and wrote you that quick note. I’ll tell Trace all about it on Wednesday.”

  “Good. If for some reason he wants you to hold off, just let me know.”

  “I’ll do that,” Cassidy agreed, looking forward to hearing Trace’s views.

  “So when’s the big day?” Rylan asked without warning, his eyes sparkling a little too much.

  Cassidy stopped and stared at him, knowing from long experience when she was being teased. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” she said innocently.

  “You must think I can’t see a thing from that pulpit.”

  “What did you see?” Cassidy had to ask.

  “Two people who were suddenly more than friends.”

  “Do you object?” Cassidy had to ask.

  “Object?” Rylan asked, knowing them both well enough to be bold. “I wonder how it could have taken so long.”

  Cassidy laughed with more than just pleasure. Having Rylan’s blessing, not that she’d doubted, was a relief too. They were still talking about the changes that had occurred between her and Trace, sharing like the friends they were, when another customer arrived.

  With just a swift word about checking with her later in the week, Rylan went on his way to work, and Cassidy soon found herself with another order.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “HOW ARE YOU?” RYLAN ASKED ABI. She’d come by the livery just as he was finishing on Tuesday afternoon, and the two walked as they talked.

  “I didn’t know the Bible said those things,” Abi said, feeling anxious about what she’d heard but also hopeful.

  “What exactly?” Rylan checked.

  “That sin keeps us from God’s blessing.”

  “And what do you think about that?”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t like it either. That’s why I choose to obey God. I want His blessing.”

  Abi snorted a little. “You probably don’t know how to do anything else.”

  “You know that’s not true,” Rylan corrected her. “I told you I sin every day. I need saving as much as you do.”

  “I’m afraid,” Abi admitted, almost too softly for Rylan to hear.

  “Of what?”

  Abi didn’t answer him. Rylan walked with her a bit more, but she didn’t speak.

  “Do you want to tell me?” he asked after they’d walked another block. Abi stopped and looked at him.

  “I want what you have, but I’m afraid.”

  “Do you know what scares you?”

  “Just God. Not pleasing Him and not having His blessing.”

  Rylan nodded. “When I feel that way I take comfort in His Word. It’s full of promises for His children.”

  “What if I’m not His child?”

  “Then that’s the first thing you need to take care of, Abi.”

  She had no argument. With sudden clarity that this man was right, Abi asked Rylan to pray with her then and there. Believing that Christ died for her sins, Abi trusted in the work of the cross and gave her life to Jesus Christ.

  “Thanks, Chandler,” Cassidy said to the banker.

  “You’re welcome,” he said in return. “It’s nice to have you bringing something in.”

  Cassidy shook her head a little. “I thought it might be over, but I don’t think I have to close my doors just yet.”

  “I’m glad for you, Cassie,” Chandler said, and he meant it. His heart was still agonizing over this woman, but that would never mean that he didn’t wish her the best.

  Cassidy went on her way, headed toward home. She had already checked with Jessie. There was no letter from her mother. As she walked the distance back to her apartment, Cassidy made up her mind. She would write to her mother again. There were no guarantees that the first letter had gotten to her, so she would simply try again.

  I’m going to trust that you are able to read this even if you’re not able to write back. Cassidy started the second letter before she even worked on supper. The first one had been brief. She had been too emotional to say much past telling her mother that she was all right and that they could communicate again. This time Cassidy told her mother about herself, Trace, the church family, and her business.

  Jeanette has been working for me for many months, she explained near the end of her letter.

  She’s older and does not need the money but loves to sew. I can’t think of how hard it would have been without her. And she wants to buy the shop. We talked this afternoon and put together a plan. She won’t try to be open as many days each week but plans to keep the business going. Trace and I will use the money to build a house.

  I can’t tell you how pleased I am to be able to write that. You’re going to love Trace. He’s an amazing person. When things are settled, there is no reason I can’t come to see you. Maybe Trace can come too.

  I’ve missed you so much. I wish I could give you a better report on Edson, but as long as this finds you well, I won’t worry about that. Please write as soon as you can, Mama. I want to know if you’re all right. I ache to have some word from you—anything at all. I’ll write again in a few days and in the meantime believe that all is well.

  I send this with my love,

  Cassidy

  Cassidy cried as she wrote her name—not tears of fear, but tears that spoke of the ache to touch her mother and be hugged by her. Cassidy eventually ate some dinner, but she wasn’t very hungry. She spent the evening asking God to help her be strong until she could be with her mother again.

  Trace and Brad had already headed out on the range when Cassidy arrived at the ranch. She had not told Trace that she’d be free on Wednesdays from now on and had no one to blame but herself for having to unhitch the horse and put her into a stall. Meg was close by, watching her efforts while she got the job done.

  “I’m glad Trace wasn’t around to watch that,” Cassidy said, thinking she would have to tell Rylan that he was not in danger of losing his job. She had managed fine, but it was obvious she didn’t do it every day.

  “It’s all right,” Meg comforted. “Trace is no good with a needle.”

  Cassidy liked this. She chuckled her way into
the house, washed her hands, and then took Savanna from her mother. “Good morning,” Cassidy said softly to the baby, kissing her cheek and holding her close. “How is my Savanna today?”

  “Grouchy,” Meg said dryly. “All these smiles you’re getting right now are an act.”

  “Is that right?” Cassidy asked the baby. “Were you cranky?”

  Both women laughed when Savanna smiled with pure contentment.

  “Meg,” Cassidy teased. “I don’t think you should tell me these tales. This child is clearly an angel.”

  “Not ten minutes before your buggy came in the yard, that angel was howling as though I were pinching her.”

  “What did you do to make her stop?”

  “I put her down and walked away. I let her cry for a little while. When she stopped, I checked on her. She’d found a spot to look at on the crib and was fascinated by it.”

  As if to prove her mother’s point about her mood, Savanna began to fuss again. Cassidy tried to talk her out of it, but she was having none of it. Meg took her and nursed her to sleep, the women talking all the while.

  “How did things go for you on Sunday?” Meg asked. “Did you and Trace talk about getting married?”

  “We didn’t talk about a date—just that it will happen.”

  Meg nodded, not wanting to give her friend negative ideas but wondering if she was missing something.

  “Does Trace tell you he loves you?”

  “He did in a roundabout way on Sunday, and I liked hearing it, but I still want to talk to him about that.”

  “What exactly?”

  “We spend so much time talking about my problems that we never get to discuss us. There are things I want to know about his feelings.”

  “I think he’ll be able to tell you,” Meg said, not afraid of giving anything away. “Brad was talking to him about noticing you a long time ago.”

  “What did Trace say?”

  “He said he held back because of Chandler. I don’t think it ever had anything to do with his lack of feelings.”

  Cassidy smiled, and Meg smiled with her.

  “We’re going to be neighbors,” Cassidy said to her friend with a smile.