by Kit Morgan
Her heart, on the other hand, had other ideas. As soon as she entered her room, she went to the window overlooking the street. Sure enough, after a moment Cooper walked out to a hitching post, untied his horse, mounted and trotted away.
Hattie sighed and sagged against the window frame. “Oh dear …”
Cooper stopped by Crowther’s, picked up a couple of pounds of flour, one each of sugar, salt and coffee, packed them into his saddlebags and headed home. As a treat he’d also bought a few lemon drops. He popped one in his mouth as he rode out of town, relishing the sweetness. Maybe it would help him forget another type of confection – one that was living, breathing and had the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen. But he had to face facts.
“What do you think boy?” he asked his horse, Stu. “Me, I think it’s bad timing she’s here. Besides, she’s from Boston. I must be like any other hard-luck case her type takes on as charity.”
Stu snorted. Cooper wasn’t sure if the animal was agreeing or disagreeing. After all, he’d just categorized Hattie after telling her he was against such things. He pushed the thought aside and rode on.
When he got home, he put his supplies away, did his chores and fed the stock. When he returned to the house, he stood as he had the other night and observed his humble abode. What would it look like with a woman’s touch? But then, he’d asked himself the same thing before letting Baxter fill out the application for a mail-order bride Mrs. D’Arcy gave him. That incident made his neck tighten and his head hurt – but not as much as when he tried to read.
Thankfully, today he didn’t have to. Time spent in pleasant conversation with Hattie was much nicer. He’d liked it. So had she, for that matter. They had a good time, neither pressured by the other to perform. She was trying so hard to help him, a stranger.
But the question of why still remained. Out of all the folks that came through the stage stop as he grew up, none tried the way Hattie was. Maybe they never had the time – they were going from one place to another with room for little in between, including him. Unless it was to berate, or whisper snide comments behind his family’s back.
He should have Baxter help him write to his parents, tell them about Hattie and her efforts. But would it make his mother sad? Hattie was right; he didn’t give his folks the chance to seek help in Clear Creek. But he didn’t trust a man with stories that followed him everywhere. In fact, having come to Creede, he didn’t wonder if he’d left the frying pan and jumped into the fire – there were even more stories and strange happenings here! But stories around Creede were always about finding true love …
Cooper snorted in disgust. “That won’t happen to me.”
But it had for his parents, not to mention Uncle Oscar and Aunt Lily, or so he was told. Uncle Anson and Aunt Emeline had found true love under different circumstances. Even his grandmother would say she had. She never married again after her husband died, saying a love like that could never be replaced and she didn’t want to try.
He made his supper, ate, then sat and picked up his Bible. He couldn’t read it, but he like to run his hands over the pages as Scriptures his family read to him over the years came to mind. It was the closest he was able to get to the Almighty through His Word. Sometimes he felt like a stranger in a foreign land when handed a book that he couldn’t make sense of. But this one was different – he could see the enjoyment it brought to everyone else.
And yet he could have none of it other than what he could hear. What would happen when his memory began to fade and he couldn’t remember the Scriptures? He went to church most Sundays where Rev. Theodore read the Bible aloud, quoted it and prayed with his little congregation. He should go more often. Once he became old, feeble and unable to attend services as often, he’d start to forget unless he could find someone to read to him as his family had.
He didn’t entertain the thought until now. Maybe, just maybe, Hattie would find something and bring him good news. What if his problem could be fixed?
He put another piece of wood in the stove and thought about it. Hattie was right about another thing – if he was able to read and write like other men, he could do more on his place. His recordkeeping was limited, since being unable to read, he could barely write. He memorized what he could, but would forget if he had too much on his mind.
Cooper went to his chair, sat and picked up his whittling. He looked at the shavings on the floor and scowled at the image in his mind: a woman sweeping around his feet, teasing him about the mess he’d made.
He surveyed his home again. It was just three rooms – a kitchen big enough for a table and a few chairs, his parlor with a few pieces of furniture in it, and a bedroom. He had a privy out back. One day when he had the money, he’d add a water closet and an indoor pump, maybe another bedroom while he was at it. But what did he need them for? It was only him, and he could get by without indoor plumbing. There were plenty of folks in and around Creede that did.
But what if he married a woman like Hattie Dodge?
He ran his hand through his hair and groaned. “You’re dreaming. To her, you’re nothing but a lost dog trying to find your owner.”
Cooper shook off another chill and went back to his wood and knife.
Almost a week later, Cooper found himself standing in front of Tobias’s bookshop, his hat in his hands. Why he took it off, he had no idea. He returned it to his head, took a deep breath and stepped inside, but as soon as he did, his stomach knotted and his head began to pound. If he didn’t get a hold of himself, he might bolt.
“Cooper, what brings you in?” Tobias finished dusting a few spines, then headed straight for him.
Tobias coming at him with that happy smile made Cooper feel like he was staring down a grizzly bear. But he shouldn’t compare Tobias to a grizzly – after all, a grizzly he could handle. “Afternoon, Tobias. I, um …” He quickly glanced around. “I’m here to buy a book.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d never spoken those words in his life.
Tobias grinned in surprise. “Why, Cooper, I’m glad to hear it. What sort of a book would you like – poetry, perhaps?”
Cooper fought the urge to grab his handkerchief and wipe his brow. He was starting to sweat, facing his fear. But what was he more afraid of, the surrounding books or Tobias figuring out his secret. “It’s a, a gift.”
“All right, let’s see … for a relation, or …”
Cooper shook himself. “For a, um, friend.”
“I see.” Tobias clearly didn’t, but that was fine. “Does this friend have any particular interests?”
Great Scott, he hadn’t thought of that – what were Hattie’s interests? He’d have to guess. “Well, uh, let’s try poetry.”
“I knew it! The meetings are paying off.”
Cooper sighed at the delighted look on his face. “Maybe. It’s all I can think of.”
“Naturally, as it’s all we’ve discussed the last few weeks. I’m glad to see you appreciate what you’ve learned so far.”
Cooper smiled weakly. This was going to be the death of him.
“Would this be for a woman?” Tobias asked and shoved at his spectacles.
Cooper’s head snapped up so fast his hat fell into his hands. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, it’s no secret you and a certain young lady have been seen together of late.” Tobias winked.
Why did this man have to be so blasted cheerful all the time? Then again, he was in his element and enjoyed his work. Cooper was the one risking his sanity being in this place.
But what if he took a different risk – what if he told the man his secret? He’d have to hope he didn’t spread it around town, but maybe it would get the fellow off his back. He sighed again, unsure if it was out of relief or resignation or dread. “Tobias … I …”
“Yes?”
Cooper looked at the books surrounding him and grumbled, “I can’t read.”
Tobias cocked his head to one side and smiled. “My good fellow, I kno
w.”
Cooper gaped at him. “Wha?”
“Tobias?” a woman called from somewhere in the shop. “Could you help me with this shelf?”
Cooper glanced at the distant stacks and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, maybe this is a bad time …”
“Nonsense, Cooper. That’s my wife Louisa.”
Cooper gripped his hat tightly. He’d confessed something he’d kept hidden since coming to Creede – and Tobias already knew? But even if he hadn’t, Cooper was tired of covering it up, tired of the question he’d heard since childhood: well, why don’t you learn? As if it was that simple.
“Stay here – I won’t be a moment.” Tobias headed for the back of the shop.
Cooper looked at the door, all the books and felt his heart began to race again. He hated his reactions, especially after his confession? He needed to get over it, grow past it. And how did Tobias know – had Hattie told him? Baxter? He spied a chair near a shelf and sat.
After a minute Tobias returned. “Now, about that gift you wanted?”
Cooper stood and stared at him. That was it? He wasn’t going to say anything more? “It’s for Hattie Dodge,” he said without thinking.
“I thought so. I still think poetry’s the best choice.”
Cooper shrugged and nodded.
Tobias smiled. “She’s helping you, isn’t she?”
“She told you?”
“On the contrary, she was a model of discretion. But it was easy enough to figure out. She came in here looking for children’s books. Found this old children’s reader and I gave it to her gratis.” Tobias chuckled at the disbelief on Cooper’s face. “Cooper, look at the business I’m in, what I’m trying to do for the men of Creede. I figured it out by our second poetry meeting. Seeing you with Miss Dodge and a children’s reader in your hands last week simply confirmed it.”
Cooper’s eyes widened. “But… how?”
To his surprise, Tobias’ look was one of sympathy. “Because you’re not the only one at these meetings who can’t read.”
Cooper could only stare. “Who else?”
Tobias shook his head. “Not for me to say. The difference is, they told me they couldn’t read and wanted to learn.”
Cooper fought the heat of embarrassment. “So what’s the difference?”
“The difference is I can tell when someone is faking it. You aren’t – you really do struggle. I can tell you try, and it just isn’t working.”
“That’s because…” He swallowed hard. Memories of his childhood suddenly hit, telling him Tobias was only going to make fun of him. But he forged on. “I can’t see the letters right. I only see parts of them, or I see them spinning all over the place.”
Tobias cocked his head and nodded knowingly. “Hmm, sounds like word blindness.”
Cooper’s mouth dropped open a second time. “It has a name?!”
“Well, the technical term for it was thought up by a German physician, but it’s a bit of a mouthful. But I knew a man once with word blindness – he had the same sort of trouble.”
Cooper glanced at the chair behind him and backed into it. He felt like a mountain had been shoved off his shoulders, only to be replaced by another. He stared at Tobias, unsure of whether to thank him or throttle him. Instead of either, he asked the next question. “So can it be fixed?”
Chapter Nine
Cooper left the shop, a small wrapped book in hand. Tobias chose a book of poetry by a man named Henry David Thoreau. Cooper had never heard of him. But he didn’t know any of the poets Tobias rattled off as he dug through piles of books he wanted to show him, and apparently this Thoreau fellow was from Boston, so …
He wasn’t sure what had happened in the bookshop, but he was glad it did. Now he had a name for his affliction and knew he wasn’t the only one in the world with it – that made him feel better. And if Tobias knew another man like him – and didn’t bat an eye – then maybe Cooper shouldn’t be batting his own.
But did the man grow up with the same humiliation Cooper did? Did his family suffer because of it? He didn’t think to ask Tobias how well he knew this man. He was still marveling over the name. Word blindness – that’s exactly what it was. He couldn’t see words or letters properly. Alas, Tobias had no idea what could be done for it. He did offer to do some research if Cooper wanted. Like an idiot, he’d said no.
Well, he had a reason – Hattie was already trying so hard to help him. Shouldn’t he let her find out first? He didn’t want to hurt her feelings and tell her that his ailments had a name – she might be disappointed and feel like she wasted her efforts. He didn’t want that. He liked Hattie. In fact he was beginning to like her a lot. He was also worried about how she didn’t give information about herself very readily. Was she hiding something? And if so, what?
He pondered possible answers as he rode home, fighting the urge to turn around and go straight to Hearth and Home to check on her. But a man from one of the neighboring towns was dropping off his mare soon. He had work to do.
So when could he see her again? It would give him a chance to ask a few more questions, and see if she’d heard from Dr. Thomas’s colleague. But the more he thought about all of it, the more confusing things became. He should be ecstatic that he knew what he had. Well, what Tobias thought he had. Hopefully Dr. Thomas’s friend would confirm it.
What if he didn’t? Cooper pulled out another lemon drop and popped it into his mouth as his mind kept coming up with new questions. What if he thought it was something completely different? More importantly, what if there was still nothing to be done about it? “Then you’d be no worse off than you are now,” he chastised himself.
One of Stu’s ears went back at the sound of his voice. “You don’t mind, do you, boy? You still love me, right?”
The horse snorted, pricked his ears forward and broke into a trot. They were getting close to home.
But instead of thoughts of his upcoming work taking over, it was thoughts of Hattie. How long was she planning on staying in Creede? Would she move on if she couldn’t find work? And for crying out loud, why did he care? But he did. She was the first person other than his family that had really tried to help him. She didn’t make fun of him, wasn’t forced to aid him. But she still did, and that’s why he thought he owed her a gift.
He glanced over his shoulder at the saddlebags. He’d have to find time to give the book to her. Perfect – there was his excuse to see her again.
Last night he’d tried to figure out whether she was doing it for herself or him – no one takes on something like this for fun, he concluded. Especially not a woman traveling alone to someplace like Creede just before winter sets in, with no work, no friends to stay with and no idea of where to find either. Educated or not, Hattie Dodge didn’t seem to know what she was doing. That meant she must have left Boston in a hurry.
Cooper reined in Stu when he reached the barn and dismounted. “So Miss Dodge,” he muttered. “Why are you really here?” Another mystery to solve.
Hattie approached what she now thought of as her and Cooper’s bench and sat. She hadn’t seen him in days. Millie mentioned last night at dinner that she’d seen him ride out of town that afternoon. Why didn’t he stop and speak with her? But then, why should he? They hadn’t planned to meet again, had made no mention of seeing each other. But after lunch, when Isla asked if she was going to see him again, her heart leaped in her chest and she couldn’t speak for a moment. Isla giggled at her and moved on.
But really, just because she and Cooper had coffee together didn’t mean they were sweet on each other. She was helping him, that’s all. And utilizing him as cover. But that was over – she’d have to come up with another way to support herself. She had enough money to stay at the boardinghouse for maybe two months if she was frugal, and that was it.
She didn’t want to write her father’s lawyer yet – he might tell Father, especially if Father thought she’d been abducted. She supposed for the right price he’d stay silent, b
ut there were no guarantees. “Oh, Hattie,” she sighed, “what have you gotten yourself into?”
Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun on the bench to find Mr. Dunst. “You scared me to death!”
His eyebrows shot up, and he slapped his hands over his mouth. It was almost comical.
She removed her hand from her heart and waved it at him. “I know you didn’t mean it. It’s all right.” She took a breath and fanned herself, still recovering. “I haven’t seen you for a time. How have you been?”
He strutted around the bench and sat next to her, a happy smile on his face.
Hattie smiled back. “That good?”
Mr. Dunst nodded enthusiastically and pointed at her.
“Oh, I’m all right,” she replied with half the enthusiasm of his smile.
He put a finger on each side of his mouth and pulled his lips into a frown.
Hattie shrugged. “Oh, don’t mind me, it’s not that bad. Things could be far worse.”
He patted his chest, then gestured toward her.
“I’m not sure I understand. Do you want to help?”
Mr. Dunst nodded happily.
“Oh, I’m afraid there’s nothing you can …” Hattie stopped and peered at the gazebo. “Is that a chicken?”
Mr. Dunst nodded, jumped off the bench and went to the gazebo, returning with the rooster squirming in his arms.
Hattie laughed as he sat. “Well, hello there,” she said to the bird. “Aren’t you a handsome thing?”
The rooster preened and clucked a few times, as if speaking to her. Mr. Dunst glanced between them and arched an eyebrow.
“Yes, it would be fun to know what the little thing is saying, wouldn’t it?”
