A Bride in Store
Page 33
“Don’t tell me you’ve not paid far less for his medical services than they’re worth.”
One of his eyes drooped warily. “He doesn’t ask for much, and it’s common practice to trade for medical services.”
“But you wouldn’t dare come into my store and tell me you had a desperate need for a teacup and try to pay me with a handful of beans two years later.”
“That’d be ridiculous—”
“So is having Will nurse your wife for several days and think his medical coupon sufficiently covered his labor.”
“Now, hold on. I didn’t get a coupon. He offered to visit if I helped you. He made the bad business decision, not me.”
“And that’s why he needs me.” She thumped her chest, the tears coming to her eyes unbidden. “I can keep him from being taken.”
Mr. Raymond sighed. “I’ve told the boy countless times he needs to give up business and work in medicine.”
“You could’ve helped him get to school years ago.”
He flung out his hands. “But I’d get nothing in return. I’m not a charity.”
She pulled in a slow, steady breath. Hadn’t she thought similarly not that long ago—everything always centered on what she would gain? Not until Will’s generosity shamed her had she looked for ways to help others, and she still fought against her nature to open her hand and freely give. “Well, I’m not asking for charity now, only a cheap price on real estate. You’re out nothing but future profit sharing, but I’m positive you can capitalize on my buildings without my help.”
A knock sounded at the door, which slowly swung inward with the pounding. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Sheriff Quade poked his dusty cowboy hat inside. “The teller mentioned Miss Cantrell just came in.” He tipped his hat at her. “Wanted to tell you to come by the jail sometime while I’m there and collect your money.”
“My money? From the robbery?” She blinked. “But Axel said it was gone.”
“I suppose the loot was, but he still had the store.”
“The store.” She jolted out of her seat. “Will sold the store already?” To whom?
The sheriff scratched under his hat band. “I’m assuming so. Mr. Stanton came in to cover the claims made for the train robbery, the only theft we know for certain Mr. Langston was involved in. Well, besides the ones from around town, but almost all of that was recovered at his death.”
“See there.” Mr. Raymond crossed his arms and shrugged. “He likely has plenty of money to get to school all on his own now.”
“Well, I’m not too sure about that, being he was short three hundred dollars of making full restitution. Said something about being thankful he had a shirt and Mrs. Langston had the boardinghouse. And not much later he came back in with the rest.” Sheriff Quade gave her a great big smile as if that information should make her extremely happy. “So everyone gets their money back.”
She folded her hands in front of her face. Will had surely sacrificed that three hundred from his own pocket. “Where did he go next? The train depot? Is there a train leaving soon?”
“Well, that was yesterday. I went with him to my brother’s afterward. Charlie’s been trying to sell his bay for a while. Gave Will a deal on her and the old farm wagon. Can’t say I know Will’s plans though.”
He’d already been set to leave before he came to the dance? And surely he didn’t plan to take a wagon to school.
“Good day, Miss Cantrell, Mr. Raymond.” The sheriff pushed his hat back down and slipped out into the foyer.
“See there, he figured out something for himself.”
“He didn’t get enough.” She pulled out the deeds to her store. “Now, should I seek another buyer or can I strike a deal with you?” If Mr. Raymond wouldn’t budge, was there anyone in town who’d have the cash to buy her out before Will traveled too far? Would she even be able to find him?
Eliza loosened her grip on the reins when a familiar-looking cabin and a scattering of outbuildings appeared on the other side of a stand of trees.
Anchoring the hair that had blown free behind her ear, she slowed the horse and let out a breath. Thankfully, she’d chosen the right turn at the fork, since she’d not paid attention to how they got there weeks ago.
Will wouldn’t have left town last night after the dance; he’d have had to set up camp before getting a mile out of town. But he could’ve reached his parents’ before nightfall, and he’d not leave his family without saying good-bye. He had to be there. Unless he’d said good-bye to them earlier in the week . . .
No. God wouldn’t have let her give up everything and miss Will. Would He?
And here she was, still thinking about what she deserved to get. Will would’ve given up everything for her had she asked him. Even if he got nothing in return.
Could she ever get past her selfishness? She swallowed hard and smeared away tears. Did she deserve to find him? It would serve her right if she couldn’t.
The closer she got to the farmstead, the more her stomach jittered and the harder it was to keep from pushing the horse into a full gallop.
She clenched a fist to her roiling stomach. As much as she wanted to present herself to him as an integral part of a deal, she would offer him the money with no stipulations. Show him she believed in him . . . without her. Loved him . . . enough to give him up so he could pursue his dream—just as he’d given her up so she could live hers.
When she pulled into the Stantons’ yard, Will’s mother came out onto the porch and shaded her eyes with her arm, a batter-covered spoon in her hand and a mixing bowl tucked against her side. “Eliza?”
She stopped the horse and tried to gracefully descend from the buggy. Where was his wagon? It must be there. “Please tell me Will’s here.” What if Rachel gave her an answer she couldn’t handle?
His mother’s gaze was unwavering, measuring . . . silent.
“Please.” Eliza kept her clenched fists in front of her stomach, lest she do something as pitiful as folding her hands and begging. Groveling wouldn’t change Will’s location.
“He’s having a hard enough time leaving as it is.”
He is here!
Eliza raced up to grab Rachel’s flour-covered arm. “No, I’ll make it easier, Mrs. Stanton. I promise.”
Rachel looked at her askance. “I can’t fix everything for my children, but I don’t want to cause them extra heartache either.”
She stepped back to give the older woman space. “I hope never again to cause him heartache.” She forced herself to look into Will’s mother’s eyes despite the fire creeping up her neck. “I love him.”
Rachel’s weary face relaxed, her lips twisted into a small smile. “Yet you haven’t told him?”
“No.” Oh, she’d known she liked him, cared for him, maybe even loved him. But until last night, she hadn’t known she loved him enough—and then she’d proven it by putting pen to paper and signing everything away this morning. “But I’d like to.”
“Then, he’s at the pond.” She pointed her spoon at a small rise to the west. “That way.”
“Thank you.” Eliza spotted Ambrose and scurried over to him. “Would you look after the horse?” Without waiting for an answer, she headed toward the rise as fast as her skirts allowed.
Nearing the willows and pines reflecting peacefully in the pond’s surface, she slowed. Yet nothing but waving grasses and the buzz of bees hovering around a honeysuckle vine caught her attention. Where was Will?
Circling a clump of juvenile cedars, she frightened away a handful of robins. A lengthy dark figure lying in the grass grabbed her attention.
Will lay by the bank, his thick head of hair cradled in his arms bent beneath his head. His chest rose and fell evenly, eyes closed. A fishing pole lay at his side.
Not wanting to startle him, she padded slowly around thick grass clumps until her shadow fell across his face. He didn’t stir.
As silently as possible, she settled herself beside him, smiling at a second chance to wat
ch him sleep. So peaceful and handsome and spellbinding. No wonder princes in fairy tales couldn’t keep from kissing their sleeping lady loves.
And why not?
Just because he might not take her to school, or wherever he chose to go, didn’t mean she couldn’t show him she loved him as he’d done for her last night.
With shaky fingers, she unpinned her hat, then propped herself beside him on her elbow. The scent of mud and grass and man enveloped her as she placed her free hand on his heart, the smooth linen of his shirt under her hand as distracting as his heartbeat. She waited for a second, but his eyelids remained placid, his mouth soft and relaxed. Taking in every inch of his face, she leaned over to brush her lips against his.
He hummed lightly and smiled against her mouth. His head lifted, his responsive lips moving against hers.
Then his eyes flew open. “Eliza?” His head fell back with a thump. “Uff.”
“Yes?” She smiled at him, her lungs completely out of breath.
He scooted back, propping himself up with his elbows, his brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”
“Kissing you.” Could someone’s whole body flush? Her skin felt hotter than if she’d sat outside in the sun all day. “And telling you I’m not my mother.”
He blinked, his brow still stiff.
“And that you’re worth more than I have—could ever have.” She snapped off a plantain leaf and rolled it between her fingers, finding it easier to look at the crushed plant than his frown.
“No I’m not.” He pushed himself up the rest of the way.
She pulled out a four thousand dollar bank draft made over to him. “I made a sale this morning.” She smoothed the paper against her leg, then placed the draft in his lap, glancing into his eyes for only a second. “I talked to Dr. Benning. He spent about two thousand to graduate from the University of Michigan, but now they’re making it a three-year degree, and I figured you’d need at least four thousand to pay for your school and travel, and anything else unexpected.”
He picked up the draft between two fingers, as if the paper was a delicate wisp of ash. “You sold your store to Mr. Raymond?”
She nodded, trying not to think too hard about it. “All of them.”
“That’s not enough money.” He crammed the paper back into her hand. “Go buy them back. I’m a bad investment. I’ve told you about my reading. I might not even be able to graduate.”
“You’re not a bad investment.” She pressed the draft against his palm.
He stared blankly at their clasped hands.
She could tell he wanted to go, that the bank draft was tempting. “If you’re worried about the risk I’m taking, I have another proposition for you to consider.” She swallowed hard, not able to look at him. She wasn’t worthy of his saying yes. “I sold all of them because . . . if . . . if you would consider taking me along as your wife, I wouldn’t be tied to Salt Flatts anymore, and I could go along to make certain my investment panned out.”
His fingers relaxed, but he didn’t pull his hand away from hers. “That’s riskier. A lifelong commitment with no guarantee of return. I might not turn out much different than I am now, even after thirty or fifty years.”
“Then you’d still be the most loving, thoughtful, self-sacrificing man I know?” She was the one getting the better deal. “A man who paid off a criminal’s debt with money from his own pocket just to make sure I got back all that I lost, though God had given me plenty?”
His eyes met hers, cautious yet beseeching at the same time.
She moved closer, cupping one hand against his jaw. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”
He shook his head, his stubble scratching against her fingers. “Carl bought the store from me, and I’ve given the Langstons’ their due . . . and taken care of Axel’s robbery, though the lawyer told me it wasn’t necessary.” He shrugged, eyes downcast. “I couldn’t leave without doing so.”
She couldn’t help the smile on her face, as if he needed to be contrite about doing such a thing.
“So if I can find somewhere without competition and plenty of need, I have enough if I’m careful.” He pressed the bank draft harder against her hand. “You don’t need to do this for me.”
She pushed back. “Would you rather go west than to school? Are you against me going with you, no matter where you go?”
His jaw tensed and he closed his eyes. “Even with an education, I still might have to go to some poor western town to find work. I might never be able to bring home enough to buy you a new hat, let alone afford what’s necessary. I might have to leave you alone for days or weeks to attend the sick and might very well die from one of the illnesses I’ve committed to expose myself to for the rest of my life.”
“I think that’s covered in the ‘good times and bad’ part of the vows.” She let her fingers travel back to the unruly lock always begging to be tucked behind his ear. “If you’re worried about me, I have a second bank draft to cover the cost of starting another business, so I can occupy myself while you’re gone. So I can afford my own hat, if I wish.” She gave him a sad smile. As if not getting to buy some future hat was a concern.
Should she say more? A tingle at the audacity made her feel hot and cold at the same time. “And I hear children are awfully time-consuming.”
He opened his eyes to search hers but said nothing more.
She smiled tentatively. “Have I told you I love you yet?”
His eyes turned dark and warm, and the corner of his mouth rose. “You showed me when you gave me this draft, but it’s still nice to hear the words.”
She curled his fingers around the draft. “There’s this story about a man who found a priceless pearl and sold everything to obtain it.” She closed her eyes and exhaled. “I wish I’d realized sooner you were that one precious something on earth that could make me happy.”
“If you believe I am”—his voice rumbled rougher than she’d ever heard—“then I’ll do everything possible to prove you right.”
“Partners?”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward until their foreheads touched, his mouth but a whisper away from hers. “Lovers.”
His breath teased her lips, creating a heat that rambled all the way down to each finger and toe. She forced her lungs to work. “Care to seal our agreement with a kiss, then?”
Cupping her jaw with his gentle hands, he pulled her closer, as if to breathe her in. His lips met hers, gentle and soft at first, but quickly escalating into the intense passion he’d shown her last night. His lips and arms claiming her as his own.
Perhaps every business owner in the world might think her a fool for cashing in her assets for love, but owning a store had never done this to her heart.
She closed her eyes tight, banishing every thought of money or stores or contracts, and concentrated on Will, losing herself in the feel of being cherished and desired by a man. Burying her hands into his thick hair, she pressed closer. She never could’ve loved him as much as he deserved if she hadn’t surrendered her dream for something better—him.
Putting a hand against his pounding chest, she broke away and cleared her throat. “I believe that’s enough to seal the deal . . . uh, engagement.”
He pressed a kiss to each of her eyelids before resting his forehead against hers. “I’ll never tire of making certain this deal stays sealed. For richer or poorer, in sickness or in health . . .”
She grabbed both of his hands and squeezed. “No matter the sacrifice.”
Epilogue
MICHIGAN, 1884
Will hurried to catch the front door as two women struggled to back out of the corner shop with bustles and bags and children. He pulled the door wide with one hand while pressing the box he’d picked up from the post office against his side with the other.
From behind her mother’s full skirts, a curly-headed girl with her thumb in her mouth peeked up at him as she toddled out of the store and then waved good-bye with pudgy little fingers.
Rubbing his suddenly itchy eyelids, he forced himself to smile at the next lady, who thanked him for holding the door. He batted at a horsefly, but the pest made it past, likely attracted to the floral scents wafting out of the store.
He stepped inside and let the door shut behind him, setting the chimes to tinkling again.
His wife stepped out from behind the shelving at the end of the aisle, dressed in a dark red floral dress, cut attractively. The ruffles of the underskirt peeped out from under fancy gathers, falling straight down to her black pointed-toe boots. Her hair was an extravagant pile of curls. The diamonds surrounding the opal on his grandmother’s dainty ring glinted on her ring finger.
All dressed up to mirror the upper-crust clientele she chose to target for her home-and-hearth shop.
He glanced around the store full of flowers and kitchen gadgets and anything else a fine lady might want, and seeing no one, he held out his empty arm. Eliza smiled and glided down the aisle straight into his one-armed embrace. She plied a peck on his lips before looking at the package tucked under his other arm.
Yes, yes. Business hours were for business. “Thanks for the kiss. And yes, the package is for you.”
She kissed him again before taking the box and flipping it over to read the address. “Wonderful.”
“I’m jealous. Shouldn’t I be the one receiving a package from home? It’s been months since Ma sent me anything.”
“This isn’t from your parents; it’s from Julia. What would you want from her?”
He shrugged and followed Eliza back to the counter where he mixed herbal tonics and tinctures and added scents to lotions for his wife’s customers. He frowned at an empty space on the shelf behind the counter. “Did you move the blue bottles I prepared this morning? Mr. Isenhard was supposed to come by this afternoon and—”
“Yes, he’s picked those up already.”