by Lori Wick
"It is an old book, but not just any old book. The truths of the Bible are very relevant today."
"You have to say that; you're a preacher."
73 "I don't have to say that. I believe it withal! my heart." "Are you going to start preaching at me?"
"Is that part of the interview?"
Abi surprised him by giving a short crack of laughter. For a moment more she continued to be distracted but eventually went back to work.
"Where is your family?"
"Denver."
"Anyone going to join you here?"
"No."
"No wife, no children?"
"No to both."
Abi suddenly speared him with her eyes. "I don't know if I trust a preacher who isn't married."
"Why is that?" Rylan asked, not the least offended.
Abi was disarmed by this. She hadn't expected him to ask her why. "I don't know," she snapped a little. "I just don't."
"Well, if you figure it out," Rylan encouraged, his voice as calm as ever, "let me know:"
Abi had no choice but to admire the man, although she did not let this show on her face. There was no artifice in him. She knew that Sheriff Kaderly thought very highly of him, as did everyone else she talked to. If rumor could be believed, Rylan Jarvik did not talk one way and act another.
"That's all for now," Abi said, putting her things into her bag, her lopsided hat bobbing in the process. "But I might be back."
"And I might be here," Rylan answered, a little tease in his voice.
"Well, I can always find you at the livery."
"I can't be interviewed if I'm working," Rylan took the opportunity to say. "It's not safe in a livery, and Pete Stillwell pays me to work." Abi didn't like being reminded that she was in the habit of dis - turbing folks while they worked. Jessie Wheeler would never talk to
74 her when the store was open, and if Abi had been thinking right, she would have realized that Jessie had customers who needed her more, and two daughters to look after as well. What folks didn't understand was that she had a book to write, and it was important.
"Was there anything else?" Rylan asked, and Abi realized she'd been standing there doing nothing.
"No," she said, her voice clipped. With that word, she turned and walked away. Rylan said goodbye, but she didn't answer, nor did she thank him. She never thanked anyone for their story. What she was doing was important. The folks of Token Creek should be thanking her!
"It's heavier than it looks," Cassidy said after Trace showed her how to hold the revolver.
"Use two hands," he instructed, watching her closely. "And you're sure it has no bullets yet?"
"Here, I'll show you," Trace took the weapon back, broke it open and showed her the empty chambers. "See," he said, holding it for her to examine. "All clear."
Cassidy looked into the gun and then up into the cowboy's face, shaded by his hat but still very clear.
"Trace," Cassidy said quietly, "what happened Saturday night that did this?"
Trace looked into her blue eyes, clear and trusting as a child's. He knew he had to leave Cassidy's life in God's hands, but if there was something he could do to prevent her being harmed, he had to do it.
"I've been naive about life in town," Trace admitted. "Jeanette is not on Main Street. She's away from the saloons. The other women I know live with their husbands or fathers. You're more alone on Saturday night than I ever realized. Teaching you to shoot does not
75make everything all right, but if there was ever a need to protect . yourself, you would know how."
Cassidy nodded, not sure she could shoot this gun but not willing to admit that.
"Okay, take the revolver again, with both hands, and just point it at the target I set up."
Cassidy did as she was told, finding it a little easier with both hands, but also discovering that her arms tired easily.
"I think you might take for granted how strong your arms are, Trace."
"You sew for a living. You could probably crack nuts with those fingers of yours."
"That might be true, but I don't hold my sewing two feet in front of me, and my strength is not in my arms."
"Are you telling me you can't do this, Miss Norton?" Trace asked, a clear challenge in his voice.
Cassidy's chin came up. "I didn't say that."
"Then get that gun steadied and aimed."
Cassidy positioned the gun and then looked defiantly at her instructor.
"Anything else, Mr. Holden?"
Trace had to grin before saying, "Pull the trigger."
The weapon trembled a bit, but she did it, her face a mixture of fear and surprise even with that empty click.
"How was that?" Cassidy asked, a bit breathless, all defiance gone.
"Very good." Trace's praise was genuine. "Do it again. See if you can get things a little steadier this time."
Cassidy worked along strongly for the next thirty minutes. Not until Trace noticed the sweat trickling down her right temple did he realize she was without a bonnet or hat and the June sun was relentless above,them.
"Let's take a break."
76"A break?"
"I thought it might be time."
"I can do this," Cassidy said with certainty.
"Yes, you can," Trace encouraged, "but it's hot out here, and you're working hard."
Cassidy agreed and soon after their break learned that there would be no time for sewing that day. With the gun finally loaded, she would not stop working with the revolver until she got it right. Trace pressed her to knockallthe cans from the fence, and that took some doing. Indeed it took until nearly suppertime, but she accomplished it.
"What are you looking at?" Meg asked Brad, catching him at the window when she thought he was working on some paperwork. "Just the shooting lesson."
"How is she doing?"
"Good."
Hearing his distracted tone, Meg stared at her husband's profile. "What are you thinking about?"
Brad looked down at Meg, slipped an arm around her, and said,
"Things I'm not ready to talk about. Can I tell you later?"
"Sure," Meg said, cuddling and working to keep her imagina tion
calm.
Brad's free hand went to his wife's stomach, and he simply held her close. He was not willing to put thoughts into Meg's head when he wasn't even sure what to do with the ones in his awn.
kffr
Cassidy was nowhere near as lively during supper as the Holden family was used to seeing. And when after the meal ended Trace suggested they head to town a little early, she did not argue. Trace
77didn't press her to talk but got her home without delay. He told her she'd done a great job, and she looked pleased, but there was no missing the fatigue that hung on her. It would not have surprised him to learn that Cassidy went to bed as soon she got home and slept hard all night.
Token Creek's seamstress was not the only person who took Rylan's words on hospitality to heart. Before she could invite the Holdens for a meal, the Vick family asked her to join them for Sunday dinner.
"This is Buster," Heidi told Cassidy with pride, taking her to see the dog the moment she arrived and looking very pleased when Cassidy went down on her knees to pet the puppy who had clearly just wakened. He yawned, and his little eyes began to close again as Cassidy stroked his downy-soft head.
"He's such a sweet dog, Heidi. No wonder you love him."
Heidi looked pleased and, as in the past, Cassidy's heart melted over her shy smile and shining brown eyes.
"Don't let that sleepy look fool you," Chas said, having watched the scene. "When he cries in the night or chews up my shoes, he's not so charming."
"Don't let Chas fool you either, Cassie," Miranda added, having to tease her husband. "This is also the man who lets that dog sleep on his lap after the kids are in bed."
Chas laughed at being caught. Miranda laughed with him and told everyone that dinner was ready. Parker had some rough moments because he want
ed to sit in his father's lap and not his chair, but eventually his tears and attitude were dealt with and the meal began.
"Do you know Trace?" Franklin asked Cassidy while dishes were still being passed.
"I do know Trace."
"He talked to me today," Franklin offered, his little face showing pleasure without smiling.
78"What did you talk about?"
"His ranch. I've been there. He has a horse."
"Yes, he does," Cassidy agreed. "I think his name is Quincy." Franklin nodded in agreement, and Cassidy's eyes eventually swung to Miranda, who quietly filled her in.
"Franklin wants to own a ranch and have a horse someday. He thinks Trace and Brad are pretty special."
"Not a carpenter?" Cassidy asked, looking to Chas who had built several of Token Creek's houses and could turn his hand to anything involving wood.
"Not at seven," Chas said with a smile, not at all offended by his son's dreams. "He might change his mind when he sees how much cheaper a hammer is than a horse."
Cassidy was careful not to laugh out loud, never wanting Franklin to think she was making fun of him, but she was tempted. He was so sincere and sweet, and everything about the Vick children delighted her.
At the end of the meal, Parker even let her hold him, his three- year- old body warm and snug against her as they looked at a book, confirming yet again to Cassidy that she wanted children of her own. However, she never dreamed that Chas was already working to find her a husband.
"Why have none of our men snatched up Cassidy Norton?" Chas asked Miranda much later that day.
Miranda looked at Chas, surprised to hear him say this. She wanted to tease him about matchmaking but stayed serious. "Are you thinking of someone in particular?"
"Rylan and Trace are the first two who come to mind." "Will you talk to either of them?"
Chas smiled. "Nope. If they're not bright enough to see that she's special, they don't deserve her."
79The two shared a look and both laughed. Chas was done talking about it, having said all that was on his mind. Miranda, however, had a hard time getting to sleep, the future of Cassidy Norton filling her mind.
"And I need to have this fixed," Mrs. Hibbard said of the next thing on a long list, standing in Cassidy's shop on Saturday morning and pointing to a popped seam on a dress Cassidy and Jeanette had made. 'I think if you had sewn this corrtctly the first time, it would have stayed sewn."
Cassidy did not argue but made note of the area, planning to fix the dress to Mrs. Hibbard's satisfaction. Jeanette, standing by to help, placed a pin in the spot so they would miss nothing.
"And here," Mrs. Hibbard displayed the last complaint. "The fabric doesn't look right here. I don't like it."
Cassidy looked at the skirt of the dress, not sure what she was supposed to be seeing.
"Could you show me exactly where, Mrs. Hibbard?" she asked. "Right there!" that lady snapped. "See how the weave is off?" Cassidy did not see and had no choice but to shake her head. "Maybe if we go into better light," Jeanette suggested, full of
admiration for her boss who did not answer back or try to defend
their work.
"Right there!" Mrs. Hibbard pointed again, and Cassidy had to give up.
"I think what I want to do, Mrs. Hibbard, is simply return your money. I don't see what you need here, and I don't think I'm the best person to try to fix your dress. I can repair these other things, but I can't see what's wrong with the weave in the front here, so I'm just going to give you your money back."
"What about my dress?" Mrs. Hibbard demanded.
80"Well, you'll have your money back," Cassidy said reasonably, "and maybe you can find someone else to fix the weave."
"Fine," the irate customer said tightly. "I'll be back for this on Monday."
Cassidy nodded. She would have to put off other work to get it done, but she wanted Mrs. Hibbard gone, and today could not be soon enough.
The door closed too hard when that lady exited, but Cassidy didn't say a word. Going directly to her sewing machine, she got to work on Mrs. Hibbard's dress. Jeanette's heart wrung with corn- passion over what she'd just seen, but she didn't comment or try to comfort her. She went back to her own work, hoping it would stay quiet for a time.
It didn't. The door opened not five minutes later, and both women looked up to see Chandler Di Fiore standing just inside the door. He did not look happy.
"May I speak with you, Cassidy?"
"Certainly."
"I was going over some accounts this morning, and I've made an error in yours."
Cassidy's heart sank a little, but she did not speak. Jeanette, owning the bank and having known Chandler for years, was not silent.
"Is it in Cassidy's favor, Chandler?" The older woman went right to the point.
"No. She actually has ninety dollars less than we thought." Jeanette looked stunned by this, but Cassidy remained quiet, and her face did not give her thoughts away.
"I'm sorry, Cassidy," Chandler went on. "I assume the mistake is in your bankbook too."
"It's all right, Chandler. These things happen."
"Do you want to get your bankbook, Cass?" Jeanette asked. "You could send it with Chandler, and he could make sure it's corrected."
81"Yes,I'll do that," Cassidy agreed, feeling a little numb. Ninety dollars was a lot of money. Her account had been nicely padded. She almost dreaded finding where the numbers would end up.
"I'm sorry, Cassidy," Chandler said again, his eyes searching her quiet face. He almost wished she would get upset with him. Her quiet response was harder to take than his own recriminations.
"It's all right, Chandler. I'll come after work, and you can tell me where things ended up."
"All right."
Cassidy went back to her sewing machine. Chandler stood for a moment, watching her, before looking at Jeanette with all the misery he felt. Her face was compassionate. Her husband had been a banker long enough for her to understand these kinds of mistakes, but that didn't make it any easier.
Chandler slipped back out the door into the warm day. He walked slowly back to the bank, the weight of this mistake resting heavily upon him. He hoped and prayed that when all was figured out and resettled that Cassidy would not be left in need.
Whom do you trust, Cassidy Norton?that woman asked herself as she sewed, her movements swift with agitation.Where does your trust lie? Have you made your bankbook into a god?
"Are you all right?" Jeanette had waited a little while to ask.
"I think so." Cassidy stayed bent over the machine. "I'm having a little talk with myself."
"Is it helping?"
For some reason this made Cassidy smile. She turned to Jeanette and laughed a little.
"Yes," the younger woman was able to say. "It's helping." Jeanette laughed with her, and with both hearts still prayerful, the women went back to work.
82Cassidy came back from the bank a little shocked. Her savings had been drastically depleted. At the same time, two folks had come in that day whom she'd never met. One ordered work, and the other was considering a project and even looking at one of the quilts.
Cassidy knew that God would not leave her alone in this. She had to make a living, and He was more aware of that fact than she was. Cassidy was talking to Him about that when she turned the corner to head up her stairs and found Trace Holden sitting on the bottom step.
"Oh, Trace!" Cassidy stopped short. "You startled me."
Trace came to his feet and removed his hat. "I'm sorry. I found your shop locked, and no one answered your door. I assumed you'd gone to the bank."
"Yes, I did. Are you meeting with Rylan tonight?"
"No, I came into town to deliver this."
Cassidy took the letter Trace was holding out to her. She looked at him a moment, but he just stood there. Cassidy eventually opened the letter and read.
Dear Cassie,
Sometimes it takes us a while. I'm only glad it didn't take longer.The three of
us have talked, and we want you to stay with us on Saturday nights. Tracewillcome for you,or bring you later if he has study with Rylan. Your proximity to the saloons is not safe on Saturday night, and we won't take no for an answer. Gather what you need for tonight and in the morning, and come with Trace. I know he won't leave town without you.
Love,
Meg
83
Cassidy read it, and read it again. She finally looked at Trace. "Do you know what this says?"
"Sure. Brad and I were there when she wrote it."
"But the three of you are to come to dinner tomorrow after the service."
"Meg said you would bring that up. She said to remind you that we can help you with the meal, or we can make it another week when you've had more time to plan."
Cassidy opened her mouth to argue, but Trace had more.
"Your hospitality is appreciated, Cass. We were all looking forward to it, but it's not as important as your being safe."
"But I've been staying in my apartment for the eight, almost nine, months I've lived here."
"But things are different now," Trace said.
"How so?"
"I've been reminded as to what town is like on Saturday nights, and that's just not going to work for us anymore."
He had sounded almost arrogant, and Cassidy's chin came up. Trace recognized the signs from their shooting lesson the previous week. Without warning, he put his hat back on his head, sat down on the step, and talked out loud to himself.
"It's going to be a long night on this step with no dinner and no breakfast. And I'm not going to be very fresh or even shaved for church in the morning. It's a sad thing."
Cassidy's hand came up to cover her smile. Trace didn't look at her, or he would not have managed to keep his own smile hidden. "You're pathetic, do you know that?" Cassidy asked.
Trace heard the acquiescence in her voice and stood. With one
84
hand the cowboy indicated the stairs. "If you'll gather your. things, Miss Norton, I'll wait for you right here."
With unconscious grace, Cassidy swept up the stairs. She knew some moments of panic about what to take and how to make it work in the morning. She didn't actually believe she would do this every week, but for the moment, she gathered her things and went back downstairs.
