Silver Belles and Stetsons

by Caroline Clemmons

  “Certainly.” She led him around the counter and toward the back. “Please, come and sit where it’s warm and I’ll collect Mother and the twins.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” The pastor eased into a chair.

  “We’ll be right down,” she told him and hurried up the stairs.

  Not a minute later, she followed the girls and her mother to the kitchen.

  “Mrs. Whipple.” Pastor Gilbert stood and greeted Mama with genuine warmth. “You’re looking well this morning.”

  Both mother and the minister preferred tea, so Adaline put a fresh kettle on.

  Jane set the sugar bowl and cream on the table while Juliette brought pie plates to the table, two at a time. Jane grabbed forks from the drawer.

  Mother carried on small talk with the pastor, something she did with superb ease. Once the tea was poured, Pastor Gilbert tasted the pie and pronounced it the best he’d had in a month of Sundays. Finally, he withdrew a pouch from his pocket.

  “This,” he said with more cheer than Adaline had seen in a good while, “constitutes a most Merry Christmas from friends and neighbors.” He set the pouch in front of Mama on the table.

  The contents clanked with the unmistakable sound of coin against coin.

  Money?

  Adaline clasped a hand over her mouth. She knew the joy of giving. But to be on the receiving end, to comprehend the enormity of the gesture…

  “What is this?” Mama touched one of the tassels on the drawstring.

  “Good tidings.” The preacher’s eyes sparkled. “Word got around about the past-due loan payments, and several of us decided to do something nice.”

  Even without knowing the dollar amount in that drawstring bag, emotion swept through Adaline. Tears burned behind her eyes, and gratitude threatened to overflow. She’d seen her parents quietly go about helping those in need— and more than once. They’d never let a body go hungry. Adaline had ridden with Papa many times in the wagon to deliver foodstuffs like flour, salt, cornmeal, butter, and eggs, along with baked goods, to families he’d heard were struggling.

  Nothing had been said about it. Just something her parents did. They saw a need and took care of it. Much like their neighbors had just done for them.

  Their generosity and show of confidence in her parents filled her with humility.

  This was the surprise Malloy had mentioned. The secret he wouldn’t divulge. Oh, how she wished he were here now. She’d have liked him to enjoy the beauty of this moment.

  “There’s enough, I understand, to pay the missing two months, plus give the banker the next installment. It ought to show good faith in the family’s ability and willingness to pay off the loan. While not enough to erase the debt, it should hold them off for a few months.”

  “Thank you, Pastor.” Mama pulled a hankie from her sleeve and pressed it to her eyes. “Please, do pass along our gratitude to all.”

  “You know I will.” He forked up a big bite of pastry and cherry filling.

  The Christmas spirit swelled within Adaline. What kind, loving neighbors they had.

  The minister sipped tea then set his cup on the saucer. “I think the bank will find it in their hearts to work pleasantly with your family from here on out. It might just be enough to send Mr. Lockhart home to his family in time for Christmas.”

  Wouldn’t that be grand?

  Adaline enjoyed relief for the barest of moments, ‘til she realized that with the immediate problem solved, there’d be nothing to keep Malloy here.

  He’d seemed to enjoy the idea of being needed, obviously, but the lure of a well-paying job in Cheyenne would see him aboard a train headed that direction all too soon.

  She wasn’t ready to see him go.

  Truth was, she never would be.

  The minister ate his last bite of pie, pushed his plate away, looked Adaline squarely in the eye, then turned to Mama. “Ladies, I just want to assure you that Mrs. Gilbert and I have discussed your situation. Please know, whatever happens, you’ll always have a place with our family.”

  Every remaining glimmer of joy flickered and went out. She reached for Mama’s hand, beneath the table and squeezed, not sure whether she sought to comfort her mother or herself.

  “That’s… that’s most generous of you, Pastor,” Mother said, her hand trembling in Adaline’s. “We’ll pray it doesn’t come to that.”

  Until they repaid the debt, they’d be in constant threat of losing the business, their home, and independence.

  The preacher made reassuring comments to Mama, but all too soon, he shifted his attention to Adaline. “We, your friends and neighbors, stand with you. We want you to know that. We’re holding a prayer meeting on Wednesday, especially for you and your needs.”

  “Thank you, Pastor Gilbert.” Adaline forced herself to relax, to smile with confidence and gratitude for the help the minister offered. He’d been nothing but good to their family.

  He meant well. Of course he did.

  The generous gift from her neighbors had been a wonderful surprise.

  So why the crushing weight of disappointment?

  Chapter Six

  From the comfort and warmth of the kitchen, Adaline heard the bells on the front door handle jingle.

  “Hello?” A man’s voice carried from the lobby.

  Everyone knew the bakery was closed on Sundays.

  Adaline scraped back her chair and stood. “Excuse me, please.”

  “Anyone home?” The interloper called again, and she knew that voice. Sheridan Lockhart, bank representative. In her home, on a Sunday morning, without the good manners to knock.

  The inconsiderate lout. She’d show him the door and make sure she locked it this time. How had she missed turning the key behind the minister? Until the Ruffian Gang harassed outlying homesteads, and before Sheridan Lockhart came to town, there’d been little reason to lock the doors.

  Lockhart, all decked out in a stylish overcoat with satin lapels. His top hat, dapper and new, sat on his head at a rakish angle. He thumped his walking stick on the floor. His kid leather boots were dry, so he hadn’t walked from the hotel.

  Outside, morning sunlight reflected with brilliance off fresh snowfall, but no conveyance waited. He’d been let out at the door and whoever he’d paid to deliver him from the hotel had already left.

  “Good morning, Miss Whipple.”

  “It is Sunday, Mr. Lockhart, a most inappropriate time for a business call.”

  She expected a retort, an argument, based on yesterday morning’s fiasco, but he smiled. A warm, friendly smile. “Interest rests for no man.” A slight pause. “Thus, any time will do for a business discussion.”

  Adaline clenched her jaw. Oh, the things she might say to this man and pickle the consequences.

  He chuckled. “Oh, my dear girl—”

  She flinched. Why of all the condescending choices of address. At twenty-five, she was no girl, and certainly not his.

  “—lucky for you this isn’t about business, merely a social call. I’ve come to give my regards to your mother. Do tell her I’m here, won’t you?”

  Adaline folded her arms, lifted her chin a notch, and regarded him, intentionally allowing the silence to build. “Presumptuous to assume we would receive you. You shouldn’t have sent your rented sleigh on without you.”

  Lockhart shook his head, ever so slightly. “I intend to visit for an hour. No man or beast should wait in the cold for so long. Besides, dear girl, I am in town for such a short while, calling on your mother must occur today.”

  “She’s not receiving guests.” Let him think the soft murmur of voices from the back belonged to Malloy and the twins. But then he couldn’t know Malloy had aligned himself with them. Unless he’d noticed Malloy following him to the hotel.

  Footsteps echoed against the high ceilings, and Adaline easily identified mother’s brisk and confident stride. Darn, darn, darn!

  Adaline narrowed her eyes at Lockhart. “You should go.”

 
He merely smiled and positioned both hands on the head of his walking stick.

  Before Mama had passed the brick oven, she called, “Who is it, Adaline?”

  “No one, Mother. No one at all.”

  Mama greeted their visitor as if he were known and familiar. She rounded the counter and presented her hand. “Good morning. Please forgive my daughter. We’re a bit out of sorts this morning.”

  Adaline watched, curious, as Lockhart raised Mama’s hand to his lips. He’d removed his gloves, and something about the way the greeting extended well beyond the limits of decorum raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

  Or perhaps that was merely a result of the way Lockhart held mother’s gaze, his lips still pressed to her hand.

  Did he think to take advantage, somehow, of a widow?

  Adaline’s low esteem of him fell further, though how that was possible, she didn’t know.

  What game did he play?

  Adaline put an arm about her mother and considered bodily moving them both away from Lockhart. “Mother, may I introduce Mr. Sheridan Lockhart, with First National Bank of Denver City.”

  Mother’s gracious smile dimmed.

  Good.

  “So you’re the banker who has brought a mortgage to our attention?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He paused, smiled, and swept his hat from his head. “Sheridan Lockhart.”

  As Adaline had clearly stated, mere seconds earlier. The self-importance drove her mad.

  Lockhart had yet to release Mama’s fingers. “But this isn’t a business call, of course not. I’m here purely for social reasons.”

  Mother’s brows drew together as if contemplating his statement. “How nice of you. May I take your coat?”

  Lockhart handed his walking stick and hat to Adaline, as if she were inconsequential, hired help and not the manager. Of all the nerve.

  He doffed his coat, revealing an impeccable suit and vest, starched shirt, and collar.

  A ruby pin, as big as a raisin, adorned his necktie. The gem winked in the sunlight. Why, the pompous, arrogant, highfalutin… flaunting his wealth in the wake of their enormous debt was simply poor taste.

  “Please, do come upstairs into our sitting room where you might enjoy our hospitality.”

  Adaline could have pinched her mama. She didn’t want Sheridan Lockhart, of all people, in her home. Having him in the bakery was bad enough. But she couldn’t shame her mother by arguing. Not now.

  Mother probably had a reason for inviting him into the family’s private sanctum. She may think to soften him toward the family, by showing them to be reasonable, civilized people. Maybe Mama intended to explain they were, indeed, unaware of Papa’s debt. Or perhaps she wanted to revert to her initial assumption that the loan was somehow all a grand mistake.

  Acid churned in Adaline’s gut. Where was Malloy when she needed him? He’d understand her aggravation, if not put himself in the middle of this ridiculous display of citified manners. He’d call a spade a spade.

  Didn’t Mother realize no cup of tea, no slice of pie, no show of civility would soften Sheridan Lockhart to the Whipple family’s distress?

  Apparently, she did not.

  Mother accepted Mr. Lockhart’s coat and handed it off to Adaline, too. “You’ll hang these up, dear, won’t you?” She slipped her hand through the proffered crook of his elbow.

  Adaline could have screamed.

  She bit her tongue and marched down the staircase-side of the kitchen while Mama paraded down the other aisle, leading him straight to the girls and Reverend Gilbert.

  Adaline hung up his ridiculously costly articles, flung his cane onto the floor without a patch of respect for its value, and stomped to the kitchen table just in time to hear Lockhart address her sisters.

  “You both bear striking resemblance to your lovely mother, if I might say so.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The girls spoke quietly, in nearly perfect unison, without a trace of pleasure. They knew exactly who he was. Jane had overheard the worst of Lockhart’s news yesterday morning.

  Juliette lowered her gaze to the plate before her. But Jane met Adaline’s gaze head-on. Frustration bubbled in the child’s expression. She seemed as ready to erupt as Adaline.

  “Mr. Lockhart,” Mama said, as if clueless to her daughters’ discomfort, “may I introduce The Reverend Gilbert?”

  The old preacher was quick to rise, offering a handshake. “How do you do?”

  “Pastor, I present…” she glanced at the banker, but her uncertainty didn’t last long. “Sheridan Lockhart. He’s with First National Bank in Denver.”

  “Well,” the minister said, a twinkle in his ready smile, “speak of the devil.”

  Lockhart’s chuckle seemed too generous. “Have I been a topic of discussion this fair morning?”

  “Certainly, sir.” Mama smiled at the banker, the way Adaline had seen her smile at Papa every day of their lives. What on earth was her mother thinking?

  Mother finally released Lockhart’s arm, offered him the seat Adaline had used just minutes before. “You caused quite a commotion with your visit yesterday.”

  No amount of ladylike, gracious hospitality would change one darn thing. The irritating banker had come for his money, and luckily for him, they had a significant payment to send with him back to Denver in a drawstring pouch.

  “Yes, I suppose I did.” The lout winked at Mother. In a coquettish, wholly inappropriate way. Whatever game the dandy played, Mama didn’t seem to notice.

  Yes, her mother was a grown woman, widowed, and free to do as she chose… even if Papa had only been dead three months and ten days. But this was simply too much.

  “Mother.” Adaline touched her mother’s shoulder, doing all she could to harness her emotions, “may I speak with you, please?”

  What she’d say to Mama, once out of Lockhart’s hearing, she didn’t know, but this couldn’t progress. Mother had been too blue, too emotionally devastated since the funeral, too fragile to play this game with Lockhart.

  He was a predatory wolf— and Mama needed protection.

  “Adaline, sweetheart.” Mother’s expression seemed perfectly at ease, with no hint of discomfort, no underlying current carrying a different meaning. “Do pour our guest a cup of tea, won’t you?”

  Adaline searched her mother’s gaze, found her lucid… but yet not. Had Mother even heard Adaline’s question?

  “Mother, come with me for just a moment, please.” She eased her arm through her mother’s and edged toward the staircase.

  Her mother laughed, easily, with genuine lighthearted fun. “Darling, we have guests.” She shook her head as if Adaline were a misbehaving child in short skirts, and busied herself pouring tea.

  Adaline dared glance at Lockhart and found his stare narrowed at her. Dislike soured his disposition.

  Good. She didn’t like him, either.

  Why are you here? What do you want?

  Before she could demand more of him, Lockhart looked away, dismissing her. He proceeded to hold Mama’s chair for her, and his far too forward touch at her waist reinforced the notion that this was not all it seemed.

  Adaline folded her arms, leaned against the work table in the middle of the kitchen, and glared at Lockhart’s back. Mama seemed to have forgotten Adaline’s presence. The girls answered benign questions. Mother laughed with the carefree joy of a much younger woman. The minister seemed confused, his woolly gray brows knitted.

  Adaline checked her watch pin. Malloy had been gone nearly three-quarters of an hour. Where was he? An errand to Western Union, even on a busy day, should have taken no longer than fifteen minutes.

  She needed him. Here. Now. He’d know what to do. He’d take one look at the situation and help her see whatever it was she couldn’t see by herself. Lockhart’s visit had to mean something. No city fellow came out on a freezing Sunday morning to greet her mother. It simply wasn’t done.

  Small talk continued. The children fidgeted. Adaline finall
y couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Pastor,” she interrupted, making a show of checking the watch pinned to her bodice, “with services set to begin in an hour, I imagine you need to be on your way.” She could not leave an opening for Lockhart to invite himself along with the family for Sunday worship. “Would you be so kind as to escort Mr. Lockhart to the hotel?”

  Her voice fairly vibrated with antagonism, but she didn’t care. This man, Sheridan Lockhart, had no right to ingratiate himself, to pretend interest or friendship.

  “Gladly.” The preacher rose, shooed the little girls out of their seats so he could move out from behind the table. He tucked the chairs in place, and headed to the front. “Come on, Mr. Lockhart, I’ll walk you home.”

  Adaline nearly smiled— so grateful was she for the minister’s obvious support. Clearly the kindly man also wanted Lockhart gone.

  Juliette and Jane brushed past and ran up the stairs.

  “Go on without me, preacher.” Lockhart flicked the briefest of glances at the minister before returning his attention to Mother. “I wouldn’t want to make you late for services.”

  Pastor Gilbert checked the time then tucked his pocket watch away. “I really should be going. Lovely visiting with you, Miss Adaline.”

  Adaline waved goodbye to the preacher at the door and returned to send Lockhart on his way. He’d used up her last drop of patience.

  But one glance at Lockhart and Mama and she figured they believed themselves alone, as if the world had narrowed to contain only each other.

  Lockhart touched Mama’s face with such familiarity, Adaline’s stomach turned. And to think, just this morning, she’d believed Papa to be the one to forget himself, to divide his attentions.

  Did Mother know this man?

  How… when?

  The very idea that Mama, who still loved Papa with her whole heart… Preposterous.

  “Miriam?” Lockhart asked, his attention fully on Mother.

  Adaline’s stomach pitched. She clamped a hand, hard, over her mouth. Nausea and panic crested in twin waves.

  He knew Mother’s Christian name?