He wasn’t getting any younger, and he had asked God often enough to bring someone into his life for a lasting relationship, but there was no one else who interested him—not before Constance came to town, and especially not now.
After watching the happiness marriage brought to both
Jackson and Mary, Hans wanted the same thing for himself: A woman who would be the helpmeet Scripture speaks about. A woman to share the same dreams and goals. A woman to be the mother of his children and who really wanted those children. He didn’t even know if Constance liked being around young ones.
He turned his attention to the woman in question. “Do you have any brothers or sisters back home?”
Sadness fell like a veil over her face. “No. I’m an only child. If there had been anyone else, maybe Pa wouldn’t have sent me on this quest.”
Perhaps he had misjudged exactly why she was looking for Jim Mitchell. If she were going to marry the man, she wouldn’t have said that, would she?
“When you marry, are you looking forward to having children, Constance?”
She narrowed her eyes in a thoughtful faraway look before answering. “I hope God gives me lots of children. I didn’t like being an only child.” She turned a dazzling smile toward him. “Hans, why all the interest in my future?”
Since he couldn’t think of how to answer that, he was glad that Mary called them to supper.
Finally Constance was back at the boardinghouse. When she made her way to the kitchen that morning, Mrs. Barker expressed gratitude for having her back. While Constance worked, her thoughts returned to the last few days. She hadn’t planned on staying at the parsonage for more than a week, but until yesterday, each time she expressed a desire to go home, Mary had discouraged her.
Hans had spent a lot of time with her. She liked him, but when he was in the room with her, something inside her felt agitated…or more alive. She wasn’t sure which. She wondered if he didn’t have much work at the smithy. He was always underfoot. Probably since she had resumed her job, he would only come by at suppertime.
Constance felt as if she were in some kind of suspension, not able to make plans until she could fulfill her promise to her father. She even tried to talk to God about it, but He seemed so far away. Her questions about why He had taken her ma and pa hit the ceiling and bounced back. She had even asked Him to help her find Jim Mitchell, but that prayer also didn’t seem to reach heaven.
Maybe she should just continue with the search herself. The sooner, the better.
A few days later after she had made an extra supply of baked goods, she told Mrs. Barker that she wanted to take the next day off.
Early in the morning, she ate her breakfast, wrapped leftover biscuits and bacon in a rag, and set out for the livery stable. She knew Hans wouldn’t like her going off by herself, but she had to finish this before she could move on with her life. After all, the man wasn’t her keeper.
Hans enjoyed the freedom of being able to see Constance so often when she was at the parsonage. After she went back to work at the boardinghouse, he had to catch up with his work, but each evening at supper, he worked the conversation with Constance around to what she was going to do the next day. If she said she was going anywhere, he kept an eye out for her, trying not to let her know that he was watching her. Somehow, he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. That woman needed a keeper…or protector, and he was just the man to do it, whether she agreed or not.
Last night, Constance had seemed evasive when they were talking. Something was up, and he figured it had to do with going back out to the Mitchell farm. He went to the livery early and rented Blackie for the day. By the time she came, rented Blaze, and started on the road toward the farm, he was already on the way. But he went across country, from one copse of trees to the next, never getting very far from the road.
Sure enough, Constance galloped down the road not long after he left town. He kept far enough away so she didn’t see him, but he was careful not to let her completely out of his sight. Soon she slowed to a comfortable pace. As he watched her, she seemed to be taking the time to enjoy the countryside, but she headed straight down the road toward the farm.
Hans would like to enjoy the surroundings, but he didn’t want to take the chance that she was really going somewhere else. He kept his attention on her.
Constance rode directly up to the house. She dismounted beside the front porch and tied Blaze’s reins to one of the supporting columns.
Hans dismounted far enough away so Constance couldn’t hear him approach. While he led Blackie, Hans watched her knock on the door. After a short time, she tried the door, opened it, and walked in. He picked up his pace, hoping she wouldn’t hear him.
A loud shriek accompanied a crashing sound that came from inside the house. Hans jumped on Blackie’s back and urged him into a run. When he was almost at the house, he jumped out of the saddle and hit the ground running. His footsteps pounded up the steps and across the porch.
When Hans burst through the door, Constance could hardly believe her eyes. What was he doing here? And why did he have to come at just that moment? She must look awful.
She had been walking across the room when the floorboards gave way with a crash. They were rotten and couldn’t hold her weight. She had feared she was going to fall a long way. Instead, the root cellar was shallow, so when she fell, her head remained above the floor. She didn’t even want to look at Hans, knowing that she was surrounded by a cloud of dust and splintered wood. She was afraid to move too much, because some of the sharp boards could pierce her body.
“Constance, what have you done?” His shout made her angry.
“What have I done? What are you doing here?” She tried to put her hands on her hips, but shards of wood scraped her wrists. She burst into tears.
Shock and confusion covered his face. “I’m going to help you, Constance. Don’t move until I get there.”
With both arms out as if to break a fall if it came, Hans walked toward her, testing the floor boards as he came.
The sight that had greeted Hans when he burst through the door brought the upheaval of an earthquake to his emotions. Constance had been covered with dust. Only the whites of her eyes stood out from the dirty color that cloaked her from the top of her head all the way down as far as he could see of her in between broken boards. The jagged wood that reached toward her looked like menacing arms of death. He whispered a quick prayer for her safety and his own wisdom.
He shouldn’t have yelled at her. It was a reaction he hadn’t been able to tame. Now he must help her, and to make matters worse, she had started sobbing.
“Please don’t cry.” He tried to sound soothing. “I’m going to get you out of there.”
Most of the boards that made up the floor of the room were all right. Just the few down the center had been weak.
“Look at me, Constance.” His stare willed her to turn her gaze toward him.
When she finally did, the despair he saw almost brought him to his knees.
“You need to trust me completely. Don’t move until I tell you to, and only move in the direction I say. Okay?”
She finally gave a slight nod, fear from her gaze spearing through him.
“I’m going to pull this board up.” He indicated which one. “Please don’t move toward it in any way.”
“Okay.” Her whisper resounded through the silent room.
He gingerly worked with the board, pulling it away from her body, then ripped it out and threw it to one side of the room. It landed with a thunk and a cloud of dust against the wall. One board on each side of it needed to come out before he could rescue her. Taking great care, he pulled each one out. Moving carefully, he scooted near the edge and reached for her.
Hans grasped her wrist. “It would help if you held on to my wrist, too.”
Constance turned her arms until she could latch onto his. They tightened their interlocked grips, and he pulled her up. When she stood on both her feet, she pulled from his hold and starte
d trying to brush her clothes with her hands.
He grabbed her arms to stop her. “Constance, it won’t do any good. Look how much debris is clinging to your skirt.”
“Eew.” She made a face. “I don’t like bugs on me.”
In among the dust that layered her clothing, he saw cobwebs and insects clinging in clumps. “Let’s get you outside and see what we can accomplish together.”
Docilely, she followed him. Hans was glad she hadn’t argued. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
“If I break a branch off of a bush, we can use it to brush you off.” He jumped off the porch and headed toward the nearest thicket.
When he returned, she stood in the grass not far from the porch. He started brushing her below the waist in the back. She turned slowly allowing him access to her whole skirt. Meanwhile, she used her hands on the front of her bodice. He could brush off her back.
After they finished, he noticed the tracks of tears on her dirty cheeks. He pulled a bandanna from his back pocket. “You might want to use this to wipe your face.”
She swiped it up one side and down the other, smearing more than removing the dirt. He didn’t want to point it out to her, because she didn’t seem to be in a very good mood. Who could blame her? But it was her own fault.
“Constance, what were you thinking?” His harshness should show her just how foolish her actions had been.
Instead, all his words did was inflame her anger. “What were you doing following me?” Her hands fisted on her hips, and she glared from behind the dirt masking her face.
“Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time you rode out alone?” He knew his tone was even louder, but the woman wasn’t listening to his good advice.
“I am an adult. I don’t need a keeper.” Her volume grew to match his.
Two could play the same game. He placed his fists on his own hips. “Yes, you do. What would you have done if I hadn’t followed you? You couldn’t have gotten out of there without hurting yourself more.” What he wanted to do was shake some sense into her.
He reached for her arms, and she burst into great heaving sobs. Hans pulled her toward him and cradled her against his chest. Lord, what am I going to do with Constance?
eleven
The bell over the door of the mercantile jingled, alerting Constance that someone else had entered the store. She glanced toward the front and sighed. Hans stood so tall and broad-shouldered that he blocked out most of the light from the glass in the door. She fought against her own heart. Just the sight of the man caused it to flutter in her chest of its own accord. She took a breath, trying to calm down. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, she enjoyed spending time in his company. But the man had become her shadow. Wherever she went, he went.
She moved down the aisle and stopped to finger a roll of lace. The intricate creamy pattern would look good decorating the collar of the brown dress she had on today. The frippery didn’t hold her attention long. From across the room, she felt every move the man made. Probably she shouldn’t touch any more fabric because her palms were beginning to sweat. What was wrong with her?
Granted, Hans had rescued her a few times, and she was thankful for that. More than thankful, really. What would she have done if he hadn’t come along? She shuddered to think about it. Somehow he had decided that she needed a keeper, and he was the man for the job.
Constance turned to walk between other counters containing a myriad of products. Up ahead, she spied shiny new shovels leaning against the back wall, and an idea took root in her mind. The gold had to be somewhere. Perhaps Jim Mitchell had buried it on the farm. She could use a spade like that to try to dig up the treasure.
She didn’t want to alert Hans to what she was thinking, so she turned to look at the candy sticks. Constance was partial to peppermint. She also liked horehound. Her mother had used them to help when Constance had a cough, but she never felt as if they were medicine. She could almost taste them now, and a craving took up residence in her mouth.
After choosing two of each of the sugary confections, she pulled her coin purse from her reticule. While she finished paying the clerk, Hans stopped beside her. She could feel his heat, even though he was at least a foot away from her.
When the other man went to help another customer, Hans leaned one hand on the counter. “Good to see you, Constance. So you have a sweet tooth.”
She held one of the sticks toward him. “Would you like one?”
He smiled, never taking his eyes from her face, as his hand closed around her fingers. “You don’t have to buy me one.”
“I know I don’t.” She tried to turn on all her charm. “I just wanted to be nice.”
“Thank you.” He still held her fingertips along with the candy. He pulled it to his lips and bit a chunk off the end. The crunch sounded almost as loud as her thudding heartbeat.
The gesture seemed much too intimate for a public store. Constance hoped no one watched them. Heat stole its way into her cheeks.
Hans took the candy from her with his other hand, not letting go of her fingertips. For a moment, the world around them melted into nothingness. Constance was held captive in his warm gaze, and the room seemed to empty of air. She gulped a shallow breath, and he slowly released his hold on her.
“See you at supper tonight.” He turned and sauntered away as if nothing had happened.
How could he? Everything in her world had shifted, and he apparently didn’t feel a thing. She watched him walk out the door.
She turned and stalked to the shovels. The sooner she fulfilled her promise, the better. Her life had just become much too complicated. Maybe she should leave this place as soon as possible.
What was I thinking? Hans berated himself as he hurried toward the smithy. The exchange with Constance had quickly escalated into something where he was no longer in control.
Lord, what am I going to do? The woman…Constance does things to me that I don’t understand. Should I keep my distance until she is honest with me? But, Lord, she needs a protector. No telling what she would do without someone to rescue her. Why do I feel so drawn to her?
At least the store was a very public place. The desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her had almost overwhelmed him. That’s why he had turned and run. Why had he gone to the store? Right. He needed to pick up some things Evan Cooper, the owner, needed repaired. Now he would have to make another trip, but not while Constance was still in there. How much control could one man have?
He knew she needed protecting, but he would have to keep more distance between them. She hadn’t been out of town for a couple of weeks, and nothing had happened to her. Maybe he could relax a little, let her get on with her life. She hadn’t done anything to make him think she would try striking out alone again. When he saw her at supper each night, her happiness and contentment radiated through the room.
He figured that she had almost forgotten about the reason she came to Iowa, and he felt sure her letter had told those neighbors back home that she would be making her home in Browning City for now. Whistling as he walked, he returned to the smithy in time for the livery owner to bring in three horses for shoeing.
Constance glanced down the street toward the smithy. Hans was out front shoeing a horse. Since he hadn’t been back long, he should be occupied for a while. She needed to test out her theory that the gold was buried on the farm.
She hurried to the boardinghouse and put on her riding clothes. After stopping in the kitchen to tell Mrs. Barker that she would be gone most of the day, she headed to the livery. Soon she rode Blaze back to the boardinghouse to get a large tow sack that contained the shovel and a rope. She hadn’t wanted to take them to the livery with her because Charlie might notice and ask questions.
Feeling at one with the horse, she spent the ride to the farm in a pleasant lope. After she arrived, she led him to the spring quite a ways into the woods behind the house. Constance tied the rope to a small tree, giving the horse plenty of room to graze and reach the w
ater when he was thirsty. Taking the shovel and sack, she went back to the front porch, where she sat down on the edge and glanced around.
If I were a man, where would I hide the gold? There were plenty of places. Would Jim Mitchell have wanted to keep it hidden from his parents and even his brother? Maybe he would bury it in the edge of the woods behind the house. She left the sack on the porch and walked around the building, carrying the shovel.
It had rained often this spring, bringing forth a multitude of plants and flowers. That also helped keep the ground from being so hard. The loamy soil under the trees turned easily. She dug at the base of one tree then another. When she didn’t hit a strongbox very soon, she moved on to other trees.
Dirt streaked her hands and arms, and the work caused sweat to pop out on her brow. She swiped it away with her forearm, then noticed the muddy smear on her arm where she had pushed up the sleeve when she first felt the heat. Probably there was one on her face, too. At least no one would see her like this. She went back to the spring and knelt on a rock ledge beside the pool. She reached into the cold water and rinsed her hands and arms before splashing some on her face.
Why didn’t she wait until she had a drink before she did that? Now the water in front of her was dirty. Constance moved along the side until she came to a spot where the water was clear and clean before she cupped her hands to bring the soothing liquid to her mouth. Most of it drained between her fingers. She stooped farther down, with her face almost at the surface of the pool and tried again, hoping she wouldn’t lose her balance and fall in. As wetness trickled down her throat, the cool liquid soothed her thirst.
“So, Blaze, are you enjoying your rest?” Constance walked over to the horse and patted his neck.
The shadows thrown by the trees around her gave her a lonely feeling. If only she could find the gold soon and be on her way.
She returned to the clearing that contained the house. Maybe he hid it in the root cellar. After the fiasco of the last time she had entered the house, she didn’t look forward to going in there again. But she had watched the way Hans carefully tried out each board before he put his full weight on it. She could do that.
A Daughter's Quest Page 9
