Love Finds You in Silver City, Idaho

by Janelle Mowery

  “Dad said he almost froze and starved to death one year.”

  “Mmm.” He inhaled from the pipe and blew the smoke out in a long, slow breath. “I think most men suffered those difficulties.” His eyes glistened with moisture. “I lost a company of men outside of Hancock.” He finally met Nate’s eyes. “And it was the first time I came close to hating someone. Actually did for a while, I reckon. Truth be told, it still eats on me some when I dwell on it.”

  Mr. Gilmore pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his eyes, then blew his nose. Nate wished he could make it easier for the poor man in some way.

  “I’m a good listener if you think it would help to talk.”

  Mr. Gilmore eyed him for a spell, then nodded. “Yes, sir, it just might. I’ve only spoken of it one other time, and that was with some men who’d been through the war. A set of young, caring ears might be just what I need.”

  Nate waited with much patience, wishing his dad were still alive and could have met Mr. Gilmore. Maybe they could have helped each other through the rough memories.

  “I’d already lost two men from cold and hunger. More hunger than anything.” He shook his head. “Awful way to go. Wasting away until there’s no strength left.” He sucked air between his teeth, showing his dismay. “I managed to urge my men to move west, promising I’d find food. In the middle of a small prairie, they gave out and fell to the ground. The grass was the color of honey, it was so dry from all the frosty nights. But it was tall enough to hide them, so I told them to stay put and I’d bring food to them.”

  His face turned sad with a trace of anger. “I was just about to rope a cow when I heard someone talking. I backed behind a small cluster of bushes to get a look.” He motioned with his hand, as though seeing it all happen again in front of him. “A line of uniforms stood at the edge of the prairie, too many for me to take without getting killed myself, so I stayed hunkered down. And that’s when I saw it.”

  The old man’s lips trembled as he wiped fresh tears from his eyes. Nate didn’t figure he’d hear the end of the story. Mr. Gilmore didn’t look as though he could go on. Then he cleared his throat.

  “Smoke. Lots of it, headed right toward us. In no time, flames licked at the air.” His body quaked. “Those dirty varmints lit the dry grass on fire and waited at the edge for my men to run out so they could shoot them.” His nostrils flared. “Those that didn’t want to get shot ended up burning to death. Worst day of my life.” He shook his head again. “I was a coward and didn’t do a thing but watch.”

  “That wasn’t cowardice, Mr. Gilmore.”

  “It was.” His eyes flared, daring Nate to disagree again. “I’m not denying it.” He took one last puff on his pipe before standing and tapping the tobacco from the bowl. “I never led another regiment again. Couldn’t. Thankfully, the war ended not too many more months after that.”

  Nate stood to follow Mr. Gilmore from the livery and nearly ran into him when he abruptly stopped. He followed the man’s gaze and found Rebekah standing in the doorway.

  Her expression was horrified.

  Mr. Gilmore headed toward her. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I never meant for you to hear that story.” He didn’t get a chance to say more as Rebekah fled into the store, and he gave a woeful shake of his head. “I wish I’d known she was there. I wouldn’t have told that dreaded tale. Poor girl. She’s been through enough, what with getting burned herself. She didn’t need to hear such horror.” He looked up at Nate. “What were you saying about regretting a decision?” Though his lips curved, there wasn’t an ounce of humor in them.

  Nate rubbed Mr. Gilmore’s back, feeling his pain. “I’ll check on her—see if she needs to talk.”

  Although he had wanted to help by listening, Nate doubted he’d helped a tiny bit. Some memories refused to go away or fade even a little. And some men couldn’t forgive themselves for decisions made, even when they weren’t at fault. Nate figured this particular memory ate at Mr. Gilmore every day.

  They were almost out of the livery when Nate spotted an odd item near the doorway that hadn’t been there earlier. “Hold up.” He pointed. “What’s that?”

  This time, Mr. Gilmore’s smile was sincere. “That, my boy, is the reason I came in the first place. Forgot about it in all your frenzied racket.” He chuckled. “You looked so angry, I was afraid to ask if you had time to fix my chair, so I left it here to see what fanned your flame.”

  Nate laughed. “I wasn’t that bad.” He took in Mr. Gilmore’s raised brows and laughed again. “All right, so I was a bit out of sorts, but that’s over now. What can I do for you?”

  Mr. Gilmore explained how his favorite chair broke and that he’d love to have it fixed rather than find a replacement. Nate silently vowed to have it repaired by the end of the day. Anything to make life more pleasant for the tortured man.

  “I’ll get to it as soon as I can, Mr. Gilmore. You have my word.”

  Gilmore stuck out his hand. “Thank you, young man. And call me Henry. I believe we’ve crossed the line of formality today, thanks to your kind heart.”

  Nate shook the offered hand and clapped him on the back, feeling much affection for the old man. “Any time, Henry. You’ll find my door and ears open to you.”

  After watching him climb onto his buggy and ride away, Nate turned and eyed the doorway leading to the store, wondering if he’d get fired for not finishing his work on time. But if Rebekah needed him, he’d take that chance. With a deep breath, he headed next door to see what he’d find, though this wasn’t exactly the kind of investigation for which he’d been hired.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rebekah returned to the store more shaken than she cared to admit. That story Mr. Gilmore told about burning men made her relive her own painful memory. So much for thinking she’d healed inside as well as out. If such a tale could disturb her so deeply, then she wasn’t over the horror at all.

  Her mother’s concerned stare made Rebekah struggle to hide her emotional upset. But her attempt didn’t work. Her mother approached, a question creasing her forehead.

  “You brought back the piece of pie. Wasn’t Nate working in the livery?”

  Rebekah eyed the dessert in her hand, then set it on the counter. She’d forgotten the very reason she’d gone next door. Much as she didn’t want to respond, her mother wouldn’t leave her alone until she received an answer, though the question she’d asked probably wasn’t the one on her mind.

  “Yes, Mama, he was in there. But Mr. Gilmore was telling him a story. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Her answer was the truth, just not all of it. Her mother didn’t need more to worry about, and Rebekah didn’t want to try to explain her feelings right now. Better to distract her somehow, letting her own troubles go for a while.

  Loud murmuring from several customers in the store managed to snag her attention. Heads together, they looked rather excited. Or was it closer to anxiety?

  She nodded toward the group. “What’s happening, Mama?”

  Mama turned to look, then whispered, “They said something about a note being found on a house. Nailed to the porch post, so they say.”

  Rebekah continued to watch, hoping to read the lips of some. “Whose house?”

  “I didn’t catch that part.” She peeked back at the group. “As curious as I was, I figured I was dancing on the edge of gossip, so I stepped away.”

  Peering at her mother’s face, Rebekah spied a bit of a smile lurking. She nudged her. “Mama! I’m shocked.”

  Mama pulled her into a hug, a chuckle shaking her shoulders.

  “Oh, go on with you. You’re just as curious, and you know it.”

  Rebekah grinned as she pulled away. “I am, and I’ll be sure to find out and let you know all about it when I get home tonight.” She turned her mother and gently pushed her toward the door. “Now go home and get some rest. Don’t let Andrew wear you out. In fact, he can stay here this afternoon when he brings the lunches.”

  “Just fo
r your sass, young lady,” Mama whispered over her shoulder, “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  Rebekah placed a kiss on Mama’s cheek before she stepped out the door. Once she’d disappeared down the boardwalk, Rebekah turned back to her customers. None of them even attempted to appear to be shopping but continued to stand in a cluster, talking in low tones.

  Ignoring the urge to join them, she scooted past Nate, who leaned against the frame of the side door, and grabbed the rag to wipe down the counter. The reason for his visit was obvious, but she didn’t want to talk to him about it any more than she did her mother. She needed time alone to think about her reaction before she could speak with any kind of sense or logic.

  Nate cleared his throat. “Everything all right?”

  “Fine.” She could feel him examining her and scrubbed all the harder at the already clean wood.

  Rather than leave, Nate wandered closer, finally sliding onto the stool for a better view of her face. “Convince me.”

  Rebekah nearly melted, not only because of his obvious concern but because he no longer tried to avoid looking at her. Very few people managed to look her in the eyes like Nate did right now. She gave up the pretense of tidying the place and returned his gaze. Seeing his worry, she would have kissed his cheek, had it not been inappropriate. The action would really give the customers something to whisper about, and she had no intention of being the subject of their gossip again.

  She edged a hip against the counter so she could watch the patrons and still be able to see Nate’s face. “All right, I’ll admit it. Hearing about those men burning to death upset me. That story was awful enough to bother anyone.”

  “I agree. But you have more reason than anyone to be disturbed by it.” He dipped his head to make her look at him. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “I’m fine.” Didn’t he have some work to do? Or couldn’t he at least find something more pleasant to discuss?

  “So you said. Which means your new definition of ‘fine’ is sad eyes and tight lips.”

  The man certainly had an abundant supply of charm. Rebekah found herself fighting a reaction to his wit, which he must have seen because he cocked his head and winked.

  “Well, that’s better. At least you’re getting closer to the old definition.”

  She threw the rag at him as she grinned. “You’ve given a whole new meaning to ‘nosey.’”

  He peeled the rag from the top of his head and pointed his finger at her. “I think—”

  The front door slammed open. “Look what I got, Rebekah!”

  Cora Peters waved a slip of paper in the air as she raced across the floor. Nate had to step out of the way in order to avoid being tackled. Rebekah had never seen Cora quite so excited, yet she didn’t want to ignore Nate either. He’d been so sweet. As Rebekah endured an enthusiastic hug from Cora, Nate said softly, “We’ll continue our chat later. Your hands look a little”—he motioned to Cora, his eyebrows high—“full.” He headed out the door, stopped, and pointed at the pie on the counter. “Was this for me, or were you just trying to torture me?”

  Rebekah smiled. “It’s for you. Go ahead and take it.”

  He scooped it up. “If it means getting a pie, I’ll come check on you anytime.”

  She grinned but didn’t get to respond. Cora grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “I need your help.” The slip of paper flashed before Rebekah’s eyes again. “This was nailed to our porch this morning.”

  Rebekah’s mouth dropped open. Cora had received the note? What in the world took her friend so long to come tell her? She glanced at the customers, who had stopped whispering and were shuffling their way toward the counter, acting as though they were looking at the goods along the way. Cora tried to continue talking about her note, but Rebekah held her finger to her lips, then pointed at the patrons.

  She made a face only Cora could see. “Let me help these people, then we can talk.” She turned to the customers. “Has everyone found what they’re looking for, or do you need some assistance?”

  Most understood they’d get no more information, at least not while inside the store, and made their way outside. Once alone, Rebekah grabbed Cora’s hands. “You’re the one who received the note?”

  Cora’s head nearly wobbled from her shoulders, she nodded so hard. “And just wait till you see what it says. Maybe you can help me understand what it means.”

  She laid it on the counter but kept her finger on the paper as though afraid it might somehow fly away or get snatched from her. Rebekah huddled close, anxious to read the words.

  Sometimes the thing so desperately sought,

  Cannot be stolen, made, or bought.

  It could be close, across the street.

  To dally could be bittersweet.

  Rebekah read the rhyme again. Her heart wanted to believe the meaning was good, positive. But with all the trouble that had been going on in and around town lately, caution fought for her attention. By the excitement beaming from Cora’s face, Rebekah needed to be careful not to stomp all over her high hopes.

  “Now you look like my parents.” Cora’s bottom lip jutted. “They warned me this might be something bad instead of beneficial, that I needed to be more suspicious than happy.”

  Alarm rattled through Rebekah’s head. She had to ask. “So they think this was meant for you and not one of them?”

  Cora flipped the note over. “See.” She pointed to her initials. “It’s for me.” She clasped the paper to her heart. “And I haven’t done anything to make someone want to do me harm. So it has to be good, right?”

  Rebekah wanted to be as thrilled as Cora. “Let me read it again.”

  Cora laid it on the counter in a way that let Rebekah know how precious it was to her. They read it aloud together. Again, Rebekah thought the saying could go either way, but Cora’s energy moved her toward the positive. She looked her friend in the eyes.

  “Have you been seeking something? Something you lost, maybe?”

  “No. That’s what’s so strange about it. I can’t figure out what it means.”

  Rebekah moved to the third line. “All right, so what’s across the street? Let’s think.”

  She’d just started picturing the street across from their boardinghouse in her mind when Cora began reeling off the stores.

  “There’s the general store, the saddle and leather goods place, as well as the butcher shop. The barber shop, hotel, and also the saloon are along there.” She made a face. “Not much to choose from, huh?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Most of those are owned or run by very nice people.”

  That hopeful look returned to Cora’s face. “So you think this note means a person? A suitor, perhaps?”

  Rebekah laughed. “I didn’t say that, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to think along those lines at first, don’t you think? We have to start somewhere.”

  “Right.” Cora tapped her chin while she thought, then pointed at Rebekah. “All but the saloon owner has sons. Most are older than me.”

  “Which ones have spent a lot of time trying to get your attention?”

  Cora’s eyebrows winged upward. “Don’t you think I’d know if one of them was interested in me?”

  Rebekah fought a smile and lost. “Well, I’m not sure, Cora. You’re so busy trying to know everyone in town, I figured you might have overlooked something like that.”

  Cora’s mouth dropped open as she took a swing at Rebekah’s arm and missed. “I can’t believe you said that. I’m not nosey.”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  “That’s what you meant.” The two stared at each other for several moments before they collapsed with laughter. “All right, so maybe I do like to make everyone feel welcome and special.”

  That made Rebekah laugh harder. “You make them any more special, and they’ll feel adopted.”

  “Stop that.”

  Rebekah sobered. “All right, if you haven’t noticed any out-of-the-ordinary attent
ion, then we’ll have to take measures to figure out who it might be. And it would be nice to know who managed to learn of this interest before you noticed and why he or she wants to make sure you find out about it.”

  That last question latched onto Rebekah’s mind like a miner to a gold nugget. If their hopeful assumption was correct, then who had been so watchful to notice Cora had a secret admirer?

  Cora’s hand fastened onto Rebekah’s arm. “It sure wasn’t my parents. Their reaction to this note proves that.” She made a face. “It’s a little creepy to think someone’s been watching me so intensely, don’t you think?”

  Yes! But Rebekah hid her concern so as not to scare her friend. “Unless the person who wrote the note is the same person who wants your attention.”

  Cora’s brows furrowed with bewilderment. “All right, so how do we learn who’s been admiring me?”

  Rebekah racked her brain for some way they could discover the author or the admirer, or both, and finally came up with a possible solution. “The town picnic tomorrow. Everyone from miles around will be there.”

  “But we only want the ones from across the street.”

  “That’s right, but with so many people milling around, we’ll be able to look for those watching you, instead of all the events.”

  Cora squeezed her arm, a grin stretching across her face. “Ooo, I’m glad you’re my friend. You’re so smart.”

  The side door opened, interrupting what Cora planned to say next. Nate walked in with blood dripping from his hand.

  “I need some help.”

  Cora’s hand went to her throat. “Oh my.” Her eyes closed. “I need to sit.”

  Heart pounding with alarm, Rebekah managed to slide a stool under Cora before she collapsed. Then she rushed to Nate, peeling her apron from around her waist to use as a temporary bandage. While wrapping it around his hand, she led him to a chair.

  He stood next to it as if unwilling to sit. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”