Corduroy Road To Love

by Coleman, Lynn A.

  “You could get some beans and other summer vegetables started now. Some winter squash might be good, as well.”

  “Thank you. I’ll ride out to the farm this evening and look into Cyrus’s plans.”

  “Very well. Thank you, Ida Mae.”

  “Thank you. Father would be so happy to see how his longtime friends continue to watch out for me.”

  “ ’Tis an honor, lass.” With a tip of his hat, Mr. McGillis headed back to his shop.

  Ida Mae nibbled her lower lip for a moment as she pondered this new information. She had to confront Cyrus Morgan and find out what was going on. John Orr had been right. Cyrus should have planted long ago. And what had happened to her father’s plow?

  She scurried back to her shop, changed into her riding dress, and grabbed her horse from the stable. The entire trip she prayed for wisdom. She wasn’t surprised to find Cyrus sitting on the front porch with his feet up on the rail. Rosey brought him a tall glass of tea.

  “Welcome, Ida Mae.” Cyrus came to his feet. Rosey gave a slight smile. Cyrus beamed. “What brings you out here?”

  “I just spoke with Mr. McGillis.” Ida Mae decided to hit him hard and watch his reactions.

  “Ah, I’ve been meaning to tell you about the plow.”

  “What about it?”

  “I hit some bad patches of rock. Tore the plow right up. Without your father, there’s no one else to fix it, so I was trying to order you a new plow.”

  Her father had worked this land for many years. There was no deep patch of rocks that she could recall. All that had been turned up years ago went to build the fireplaces, walkways, and root cellars. “Where’d ya hit rock?”

  “Uh, over by the river.”

  “Why were you trying to plow over there?”

  “Ida Mae, if you don’t think my decisions are right, go and hire yourself another farmer.” Cyrus stomped his foot.

  Rosey’s eyes widened but she didn’t speak.

  “Cyrus, I simply asked why.”

  “Ain’t no need to explain to a woman. You ain’t got no business sense at all.”

  “Cyrus, I happen to own this land, and you won’t be speaking to me in such a manner.”

  Cyrus dropped his chin to his chest for a moment, then eased it up slowly. “You’re right. I apologize. I don’t fancy folks calling me a liar, and I’m still steamed at Mr. McGillis.”

  “Apology accepted. I can’t afford a new plow this year. Perhaps when the harvest comes in. The expenses to rebuild were much higher than I anticipated. I’ve been going over the books and I’m just about ready to settle my parents’ estate with my brothers.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful with the expenses. I built ya a fine house, though.”

  “Yes, you’ve done a wonderful job, thank you.”

  “Maybe I’m a better carpenter than a farmer.”

  Rosey coughed. “I think you did a mighty fine job on the house. I don’t smell a bit of smoke in it except around the fireplaces where that would be natural.”

  “Thank ya, darlin’.” Cyrus spun around after giving his wife a quick wink. “I’m sorry, Ida Mae. Is there anything I can do to make it up?”

  Buy a new plow from your own money, she wanted to say, but she held her tongue. “No, I guess not. But I’ll be renting the farm to someone else after the harvest.”

  “I could leave now.” Cyrus’s voice sounded strained.

  “No, you and Rosey need a place. Do her parents know yet?”

  “Not until the harvest.”

  Right. Cyrus’s charms no longer worked. Ida Mae now knew he’d been taking advantage of her, and she was too smart a businesswoman to let him continue. She mounted her horse once again. “I’ll be approving any order with Mr. McGillis before he fills it. Like I said, I have to be careful with my expenses for a while.”

  “I understand.”

  From her horse, she saw a small patch of summer vegetables growing. Cyrus couldn’t have planted those. “Garden looks nice, Rosey.”

  “Thank you.”

  “She’s a right fine catch.” Cyrus wrapped his arm around his wife and pulled her closer to him.

  Ida Mae’s trip back to the town seemed longer than usual. Cyrus Morgan hadn’t planted a thing. And what was he doing using the plow by the river? Something wasn’t adding up. She’d be rid of him by fall. She prayed the Lord would have him understand it wasn’t personal, just wise business.

  Or was it?

  Seven

  Unable to sleep, Olin tossed back his bedcovers and dressed. In the wee hours of the morning he rode back to town. A faint scent of smoke crossed his nostrils, intensifying as he got closer. He pushed the horse faster. Outside Ida Mae’s private quarters a cast-iron barrel containing burning debris had fallen on the ground and rolled very close to the steps leading to the door. Olin hustled to the town well and pumped out a bucket of water. In a matter of minutes the fire was out.

  Ida Mae opened the door a crack. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s me, Olin, Ida Mae. I found this trash bucket on fire and was putting out the flames. Go back to bed. Everything is all right.”

  “Olin,” she whispered, “I told you—”

  “Shh,” he said. “I’ll speak with ye later.”

  She slammed the door. His back muscles tightened. Olin worked them until they relaxed. The fire appeared to be the result of someone carelessly knocking over the incinerator, rekindling the flames.

  Olin search the ground for any sign of an animal, or a human animal, knocking over the barrel. Seeing no evidence, he breathed a sigh of temporary relief. He walked over to Ida Mae’s door and tapped it twice. “Ida Mae, it is me.”

  “Olin, I told you—” She opened the door. He stepped across the threshold but stood in the doorway.

  “I couldn’t sleep so I rode into town to check on you.”

  “Olin, you have to stop. I’m fine.”

  “Are ye, lass?”

  “Y–yes,” she stammered.

  He reached over and held her by the elbows. “Ida Mae, I am concerned for you.”

  “Olin, how can I trust you? Every time something happens, you’re there, lurking in the shadows. Minnie says. . .” Her lips went silent.

  Olin dropped his hands to his side. “Ye don’t trust me?” He took a tentative step back.

  “Olin,” she whispered, “I don’t know what to think.”

  He saw tears filling her eyes. “Ida Mae, I care about you. I would never hurt ye.”

  “I know, but Minnie—”

  “Is a gossip,” he finished for her. “I’m sorry, but she’s been that way ever since she was a wee one.”

  “True.”

  “Minnie doesn’t know who to believe or trust. Have I ever done anything to ye? Have I ever snuck into your home without an invitation? Well, except for the time when I picked the lock because of the broken window.”

  Ida Mae sniffled.

  “My sweet bonnie lass. . .” He reached out and wiped the tear from her cheeks. “The good Lord as my witness, I would never hurt ye.”

  “I want to believe you.” She sneezed into her handkerchief.

  “Pray, and trust the Lord. I think the fire was an accident. Have ye had any other problems?”

  “No. Well, yes, some.” She explained what happened with Cyrus as they stepped outside and sat down on the back steps. She also mentioned the loss of a few other small items.

  “No further threats?”

  “No.” She wrung her hands in her lap.

  “What are ye not telling me, Ida Mae?”

  “Minnie says you may have taken liberties with the sister of the man you killed.”

  The heat of anger pumped through his veins. He silently counted to ten and fired off a quick prayer. “Ida Mae, Gary Jones didn’t have a sister.”

  “Ah, so it’s another misspoken piece of information.”

  “Aye, I’m afraid so. I swear, Ida Mae, I’ve never been less than a gentleman when in
the presence of a woman.”

  She paused for a moment. “I believe you.”

  “Thank ye.”

  “Olin, I misplaced my mother’s silver hairbrush earlier this week. Minnie said you probably took it to melt it down to cover a piece of tin.”

  “Of course I didn’t, but ye are free to check my shop and my home if ye so desire.”

  “I don’t believe it. I mean I’m trying not to believe all the things said about you. But sometimes it is just so hard.”

  “What have others said, if ye don’t mind me askin’?”

  “One of my customers has heard the same rumors Minnie has reported to me. Another suggested that John Thatcher doesn’t trust you, that’s why he’s kept watch on your place.”

  “The sheriff?”

  ❧

  “Yes.” Ida Mae held her sides. It was so easy to talk with Olin, and in his presence she believed him. How could she not be strong when Minnie reported all sorts of untruths to her? And why would Minnie care?

  “I wasn’t aware of his watching my shop. He’s come in a time or two, but he came in regarding my work.”

  “What is the sheriff ordering?”

  “Ah, lass, I’m afraid I can’t tell ye. It’s a confidential matter.”

  “Confidential tinsmith?”

  Olin chuckled. “I was as shocked at the time the sheriff spoke with me, as anyone would be. But it is confidential.”

  Calm continued to sweep over her as she sat next to him. Inhaling deeply, her nostrils filled with the scent she’d come to know as Olin’s. The hint of wood smoke, not coal, reminded her as to why they were here sitting on the back steps outside her room instead of inside. “Are you sure the fire was an accident?”

  “Appears to be. But, Ida Mae, my concerns are increasing. Ye need to be safe. Why don’t ye come stay at my parents’ until we know who’s behind all this.”

  “No.” Ida Mae closed her eyes. Fire had caused her parents’ deaths. Fear wove around her heart like a coarse thread. “Not yet. If you think the fire was an accident, then there isn’t anything more to be concerned about.”

  “Aye, there is. Ye mentioned your mother’s hairbrush. It appears to me someone is watching you, sneaking into your home, and stealing personal items. What if ye walk into your private quarters and startle the thief?”

  “Olin, I’ve given this a lot of thought. It seems to be the actions of a child.”

  “Mayhap, but I believe caution is in order.”

  “Olin, I can’t live in fear. It’s taken me the better part of the year since my parents’ deaths to even venture out in public settings. For the first few months after they died, depression ruled my days, then it switched to fear that I would die a horrible death, as well. Cyrus started rebuilding my parents’ house right after the fire. He’d work evenings and weekends. You know that is what truly puzzles me about him. He worked in earnest to fix up the house, but his farming skills are—well, let’s just say most ten-year-olds could do better.”

  Olin rested his arm around her shoulders.

  “All of that is to say, I can’t go back to living in fear. I have to face this, catch whoever it is in the act. If I go to your parents’ house, I’ll never find out who is doing all this.”

  “Have you told John Thatcher?”

  “No. Well, I mentioned the bell missing from my shop door.”

  “Good, he needs to be aware.”

  She sensed Olin would be talking with the sheriff to apprise him of all the recent events.

  “I should go back to bed.”

  “Aye.” Olin stood up and brushed the backside of his pants. “I’ll see ye in the morning.”

  “Sleep in your shop. Don’t go home.”

  “Aye, it would be easier. And no one should be watching the shops now.”

  “Good night, Olin.” She stood up and made her way to the top step, then turned back to look at him. “You’re a good man, Olin.”

  In the shadowy light she could see his face brighten. A very good man.

  “By the good Lord’s grace; but ye are a fine lass.” He opened the door for her, then slipped off into the darkness. Her heart plummeted. In spite of what Minnie had said, she felt safe with Olin. And her growing attraction deepened. It was no longer just his fine looks but him, his character, the way he treated her. Perhaps spending time at his parents’ home would allow her to really get to know this mysterious man that trouble seemed to follow. Perhaps. She closed the door and secured it, grateful for the bolt lock her father put in so many years earlier.

  ❧

  Olin woke to a thundering crash. He bolted up from his cot and tried to get his bearings. “Who’s there?”

  Seeing nothing, he slipped on his boots and worked his way to the front of the smithy. Opening the barn door allowed full light to flow into the area. Seeing nothing out of place, he ran around the corner of the building to Ida Mae’s front door.

  The iron handle wouldn’t move. “Locked.” He rattled the door in its hinges. “Ida Mae!”

  The sign in the window said Closed. He didn’t like it. He ran back to his shop and picked up the tools he needed to force entry. That’s when he spotted the window. How had he missed it? Framed by shattered glass, Ida Mae stood looking out toward him. “Let me in, lass.”

  She stood for a moment looking past him, then shook her head slightly and walked toward the door.

  He slipped through and had her in his arms before she’d fully opened the door. “Are ye all right?”

  The blue in her eyes darkened. She said nothing. He held her closer and whispered in her ear. “You’re safe now.”

  He swept her up into his arms and carried her over to the area where the rock had been tossed. This rock was much larger than the one before. Carrying her to the back room, he gently set her on the chair. “I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded, but not a word came from her lips.

  He pulled himself away and went to the rock. A note was wrapped around this one, as well. He untied it and read the ugly message. A horrible word he couldn’t even repeat blazed across the crumpled paper. Olin shoved it in his pocket and went back to Ida Mae.

  He pulled out a carpetbag from her closet and shoved a dress, a couple of blouses, and a skirt into it. Then he went to her chest of drawers and pulled out some unmentionables, not bothering to ask if they were what she needed or not. “Come on. You’re going to my parents’ house. It isn’t safe for you to be here alone and it isn’t proper for me to stay to protect ye.”

  She seemed to be in shock. “Ida Mae?”

  She closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. The deep blue of her eyes focused on him. “For a couple days, just until the window is fixed.”

  No way would he allow her to return until they caught who was behind all this.

  They rode together on his horse. He wrapped his arms around her. Several people stared as they made their way out of town. He knew the tongues would be wagging after this, but what choice did he have? Whoever was after her had been there last night. He’d seen Olin come out of the building and assumed. . . Well, he wouldn’t let his mind go to what the viper of a man had thought.

  She didn’t speak the entire trip to his parents’ house. After a brief recap of the night’s and morning’s events, he left Ida Mae in his parents’ able care. His father, Olin knew, would keep his rifle handy.

  ❧

  Olin waited most of the day at the sheriff’s office. Several townspeople had come in to report the broken window at Ida Mae’s shop. Some of them looked at Olin as if he stank. But Olin kept his mouth shut tight and answered questions only if they spoke to him. Fortunately, no one asked him anything more than if he was here to report the broken window. Which he was.

  The door slammed open and Percy barged through. He stopped short upon seeing Olin. “Where is she?”

  Olin stood up and squared his shoulders. “Safe.”

  “Why don’t you go back north? You’re not wanted here.”

  Ol
in sat back down.

  “Minnie says it’s all your fault. The broken window was meant for you.”

  Olin bit down harder. He knew the truth, and he wasn’t about to give Percy any information that might go back to Minnie.

  “What? Someone cut your tongue out?”

  Olin narrowed his gaze and seared it into Percy as if it were red-hot metal ready to be molded and shaped.

  “Ah, you were never anything but a yellow belly.” Percy stomped out of the sheriff’s office.

  Olin closed his eyes and prayed for the Lord to remove his anger. He was certain his cousin had come once again to try to persuade the sheriff to run him out of town.

  Finally, by mid-afternoon the sheriff strolled in. “Sheriff,” Olin greeted with a nod as he stood.

  “Mr. Orr, I heard we have a problem.”

  “Ye might say that.”

  “Folks say you hustled Ida Mae out of town, that she was screaming and hollering the entire time.”

  Olin snickered. “She didn’t say a word. She’s at my parents’ farm. Safe.”

  John Thatcher removed his hat and nodded.

  “Good, now tell me, what happened?”

  Olin went over the entire history, starting with the first window and message. “Today, this was the message.” Olin pulled the crumpled paper from his pocket and handed it over to the sheriff.

  “I see. Have you had improper relations with Ida Mae?”

  “No.” Olin defended Ida Mae’s honor perhaps a bit too loudly. “Don’t ye see? The person who did this must have set the fire last night. They must’ve seen me leaving after having been inside for so long.”

  John Thatcher scratched the day-old growth on his chin. “This whole affair might cause Mr. Bechtler some concern about you making the mold for his gold coin mint.”

  “Aye, it wouldn’t be much of a secret if the thief found the plates before I’m done with them.”

  “How long can Ida Mae stay at your folks’ home?”

  “As long as needed.”

  “That should work fine. You are aware the gossip will spread quickly that you’ve taken Ida Mae off. If she doesn’t return to work tomorrow, they may start suspecting you.”