Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel

by Ann Shorey

  “I’ll just empty the cash drawer and be right back,” she said to Grandpa, hoping he hadn’t noticed the unlocked store.

  Curt took her arm. “Could be someone hiding inside. After something like this, you never know.” He pushed open one of the doors and preceded her.

  She peered around him. Everything looked as she’d left it—

  Wait a moment.

  Where was the shotgun she’d laid on a counter? She whirled to check the rack.

  Grooved oak shelves stared back at her, shining and vacant.

  “Nooo!” She clapped a hand over her mouth and dashed along the rows of glass-topped display cases. A shelf that had held watches was bare.

  Several pairs of boots were missing, as were all of the ready-made shirts.

  “We’ve been robbed.” Faith spun and stared at Curt. “And it’s my fault.”

  14

  Faith swayed with shock. “If only I’d locked the door. Two more minutes. That’s all it would have taken.” She bit down on her lower lip to keep from weeping.

  Curt put his arm around her shoulder and guided her to one of the chairs next to the stove. “Sit a moment.” He pointed to the burlap curtain at the rear of the building. “That’s the storeroom?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll check in the back to be sure they’re gone.”

  “You think—?”

  “No, but better be sure.” Shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows, he strode toward the curtain.

  Faith rocked forward and wrapped her arms around her middle. Her throat prickled when a new thought struck. The cash drawer. Had she locked it?

  She jerked upright, dashed to the front counter, and tugged at the drawer. It didn’t budge. To be certain, she took the key from her pocket and fitted it in the lock. The tray of coins inside hadn’t been disturbed. Thank you for small mercies, Lord.

  “Got tired of waiting for you,” Grandpa called as he walked through the open door. “Where’s Curt?”

  She drew in a breath and held it until blood pounded in her temples. “We . . . I . . . someone robbed the store while I was at the fire.”

  He glanced around the display area. “Looks the same to me.”

  How she wished she could pretend he was right, and just lock up and leave. Instead, she moved to his side and grasped his free hand. “All the firearms and watches are gone. They picked the most expensive things we had.”

  “Didn’t steal the cookstoves, did they?”

  She recognized Grandpa’s attempt to tease her and ignored him.

  “Those new boots from St. Louis are missing. All the men’s shirts. I haven’t walked around to see what else.” Her voice caught. “Oh, Grandpa, I was so sure I could manage the business, and it’s been a disaster from the start.”

  He hooked his cane on the edge of a counter and pulled her to his chest. “Don’t cry.” His moustache tickled her ear. “It could’ve happened to anyone. Maybe it did. Most every merchant was down at the tracks today.”

  “They probably locked their stores,” she said between sobs.

  “Locked or not, the thief had a choice. He chose to steal. If he wanted in here bad enough, he’d have broken our sad excuse for a lock.”

  Faith took a step backward, sniffling. “You think so?” She noticed Curt walking toward them past the stoves lined down the center of the store. She swiped at her tears.

  He stopped next to her. “Alley door was wide open. Whoever did this must’ve left that way.” His expression softened as he studied her. “Good thing you weren’t here. I’ve seen what men are like when they’re bent on thieving. You could’ve been hurt.”

  Thankful for his caring tone, she gazed up at him. Depending on Curt in a crisis was becoming a habit.

  Sheriff Cooper was waiting outside the store when she arrived the next morning. His leather vest sagged over his rangy form, mimicking the downward droop of his moustache. “Morning, Judge, Miss Faith. Got your message. Sorry I wasn’t at the jailhouse yesterday afternoon when you came by.” He removed his hat and combed his fingers through his sandy hair. “Had a disturbance at one of the saloons.”

  “Today’s probably better.” She unlocked the door and preceded him inside.

  Grandpa followed the sheriff and settled in one of the chairs near the woodstove. “Faith can help you more than I can.” He looked at her. “I’ll wait here in case you need me.”

  She fought an impulse to kiss the top of his head in gratitude for his continued trust.

  Sheriff Cooper turned in her direction. His weary expression made him look older than his years. “You’re in charge, eh? Well, let’s get on with it then. Did you write down everything that was taken?”

  “I think so.” She took a folded sheet of paper from her carryall and gave it to him.

  “You think? Or you know?”

  “It’s hard to see something that isn’t there, Sheriff. I did my best.”

  He glanced down the list and whistled. “Looks like they was smart. Nothing here would stand out in town—’cept maybe the new boots.” He fixed her with a questioning gaze. “So, how’d they get in? From the alley?”

  “Probably by the front door.” Embarrassed, she ducked her head. “It wasn’t locked. When the train derailed, I just closed the door and ran to the depot. We think they left through the alley, though.”

  He sighed. “Show me the back entrance.” As they walked through the room, he asked, “Anyone been hanging around lately? Looking, not buying?”

  “Well, just before the crash—”

  Aaron Simpkins barreled through the entrance, notebook in hand. “Miss Faith! I saw the sheriff waiting for you. What’s happened?”

  She bit her lip. With the sheriff standing beside her, she couldn’t very well tell Mr. Simpkins nothing was wrong and send him on his way. Her carelessness would be public news by tomorrow.

  “Some items were stolen yesterday during the commotion following the train wreck. Sheriff Cooper is looking into the matter.” She hoped that would be enough information.

  “How about you, Sheriff? Any idea who did it?”

  “Simpkins. I just got here.”

  “But there was a burglary?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all I need.” He scribbled in his notebook. “Between the crash and this, I’ll need to print extra copies.” Addressing Faith, he asked, “Care to tell me what’s missing?”

  Sheriff Cooper placed himself between Faith and the newspaperman. “Write ‘Several items of value.’ Don’t want to say more’n that.”

  He scribbled again and then pivoted toward the door. “Thanks. I’ll put in a good word for you, Sheriff. Election’s coming up, you know,” he called over his shoulder.

  The lawman mumbled something under his breath.

  Trying not to speculate on what Mr. Simpkins would have to say about her, Faith showed the sheriff around the storeroom and told him about the man who’d been looking at shotguns before the crash. He listened to her sketchy description, shaking his head.

  “I’ll ask around, but don’t get your hopes up. Too many vagrants passing through these days. Meantime, best lock the doors when you leave.”

  Indignant, she drew herself up to her full height. “I always—” She swallowed the rest of the sentence. “I will.”

  The bell over the door jingled when he left.

  Faith leaned against the cold iron surface of a stove and closed her eyes. Images of the missing merchandise slid through her mind. A representative from Marblehead Gun Works should be here in a few days for his monthly sales call. She could replace the firearms quickly. Then she’d telegraph suppliers in St. Louis for boots and watches. As soon as the rails were repaired, they’d have everything back in stock. The losses were a temporary setback, nothing more. They’d still be able to sell the store when a buyer appeared.

  She smiled at her grandfather. “Everything’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

  At the sound of the bell, she turned to see the Dun
smuirs enter. Amy wore a brown paisley dress that obviously belonged to the much stouter Clarissa French. The bodice drooped on Amy’s slight form and the waist was wrapped with a long scarf. She carried Sophia over one shoulder. Joel limped beside them, wearing the coat he’d had on the previous day.

  Faith drew in a breath. She’d momentarily forgotten her promise to provide replacement clothing for them. And now the men’s shirts were gone. What did she have for Mr. Dunsmuir?

  It wouldn’t do to seem reluctant to help, so she pasted a pleasant expression on her face and met them at the door. “Good morning.” She glanced at the fresh strips covering Amy’s forehead. “Is your wound better today?”

  “The bleeding stopped. Miss Saxon came by last night with yarrow. She said to leave the bandage on until Saturday.”

  “We’ll never forget the way folks in this town took to us,” Joel said. “Couldn’t have been kinder if we was to home.”

  Faith looked at him. Better get the bad news out of the way first. “I’m sorry to say we were robbed yesterday. All the men’s shirts are gone. Fortunately for Amy, the thief or thieves weren’t interested in women’s clothing.”

  His eyes widened. “If that don’t beat all. You’re down at the tracks helping, and some no-account robs your store.”

  She decided not to tell him she’d left the door unlocked. “We do have men’s . . . necessities.” Faith led the way to a shelf filled with masculine undergarments. “Please select whatever you need.”

  “Thank you, miss. Don’t you worry none about those shirts. Reverend French gave me one of his.” He opened his jacket so she could see blue chambray tucked beneath his suspenders. “I come here today for Amy. Miz French said you have a few dresses already made up.”

  She gestured toward a rack holding calico work dresses. “A local seamstress supplies them. The quality is excellent.”

  “Are you sure you want to give one away?” Amy fingered a flower-printed indigo garment. “The sign says they cost—”

  Faith flipped the placard facedown. “Not this morning.” She held out her arms. “I’ll hold Sophia while you see if that one would fit you.”

  After the Dunsmuirs left, Faith sank into a chair next to Grandpa, trying not to think of the cost of her generosity atop the losses they’d suffered from the thieves. “I probably shouldn’t have done that,” she muttered. “Not right now. Should’ve just told them our circumstances changed.”

  Grandpa patted her hand. “ ‘Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it.’ Lindberg’s Mercantile has prospered all these years following that principle. We’re not going to stop now.”

  Faith nodded, her thoughts on the future. Before long the mercantile would have new owners. She wondered whether they would embrace her grandfather’s philosophy.

  On Sunday afternoon, Faith rested against the soft leather upholstery while Royal guided the carriage through town. A gentle breeze ruffled the ribbons on her bonnet. After the week’s events, their planned ride came as a welcome change of pace.

  As they passed a group of girls strolling on the courthouse lawn, she caught a few envious glances. She sat straighter, smiling. Royal cut a handsome figure in his white shirt, open at the collar, and black coat.

  He turned toward her, eyes bright. “If you’re agreeable, I thought we’d ride out to see how many dogwoods we can find in bloom. Be a nice change from soot and ashes.”

  “Splendid. As long as we’re not away for too long. A friend is staying with my grandfather and I don’t want to impose.”

  “We’ll circle around to Pioneer Lake and come back. As I recall, that’s where courting couples like to go.”

  “Are we a courting couple?”

  “Aren’t we?” He rested his hand over hers. “You’re not like other girls, simpery and silly. I like that.”

  Faith gazed ahead without responding. Other girls. That’s what Nelda Raines had said. Now he was interested in her. She didn’t want to be another conquest on his list.

  He touched her hand. “Did I shock you? I apologize.”

  “Not shocked. Surprised. We hardly know each other.”

  “I plan to change that—beginning today. For a start, you can tell me why a pretty girl like you is working in a store. It’s not—” He cleared his throat. “Many people would say such a thing isn’t done. In fact, maybe that’s what prompted someone to rob you.”

  How did he know? Then she remembered. Saturday’s edition of the Noble Springs Observer aroused widespread interest. News of the burglary had shared front page space with the train derailment. Faith blew out a breath. “Can we please discuss something else? Anyway, why does it matter to you what I do?”

  She turned her head to one side, pretending to study the scenery, while she pondered how he’d answer. The carriage rolled past wooded knolls with dogwood blooms peeking from thick greenery. Redbud trees added their color to the mixture. A stony creek lined with moss gurgled at the side of the road.

  “You matter to me. I’m interested. Your grandfather didn’t give you full control of the business, did he?”

  “Yes, he did.” If Royal had objections, she might as well find out now. “He hasn’t been himself lately, so I’ve been able to relieve him of the burden.”

  A smile flitted across his face. “You must be a comfort to him.”

  “I’m all he has.”

  “No more brothers, uncles?”

  “Since the war, just the two of us.”

  “Hmm.” He flicked the reins. “Now it’s your turn. Ask me something.”

  “Tell me about your parents.”

  “Ask me something else.” His tone sounded light, teasing.

  She smiled. Apparently he wasn’t one who relished serious conversation. Remembering the envious glances of the other girls, she decided if she wanted to keep him interested in her, she’d need to think of amusing topics.

  “Did you know the thieves even took the jar of peppermints I kept by the door?” She chuckled. “Can you imagine?”

  He grinned at her. “You’ll have to tell the sheriff to look for someone with a sweet tooth.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that.” His laughter joined hers.

  When they reached Pioneer Lake, he jumped from the carriage and helped her down, keeping her hand in his after she reached the ground. “Let’s take a stroll along the water’s edge before I take you home.”

  “I’d like that.” Part of her couldn’t believe that she was here with the man she’d dreamed about for so long. His grip on her hand felt strong . . . and thrilling. Faith fought down an impulse to skip for joy. She’d wait until later to share her Oregon plans with him. At the dance, he’d told her of his desire to join the Army and serve out west. For all she knew, perhaps . . . No. She mustn’t get ahead of herself.

  Still water mirrored trees at the far edge of the lake. A pair of geese, their family of fluffy goslings following in their wake, created ripples near the shore.

  “What a fine afternoon. Wish we could linger.” Royal’s voice echoed her thoughts.

  “Next time, I’ll bring a picnic.” The words were out before she could stop them. A flush heated her face. How presumptuous. He hadn’t mentioned a next time.

  Smiling, he bent to look in her eyes. “Would next Sunday suit you?”

  She slipped into the house, warm with pleasure from her afternoon with Royal.

  “We’re in here,” Grandpa called to her from the parlor, where he sat facing the chessboard. “This young rascal thinks he has me in a corner, but I have a trick or two up my sleeve.”

  Curt stood. “Faith. Did you have a pleasant afternoon?”

  She found it hard to meet his eyes. For some reason she felt she was betraying him by seeing Royal. Yet Curt was the one who’d suggested friendship. “Yes. Thank you for keeping Grandpa company.” She untied her bonnet. “I’ll have supper ready in a bit. You’re welcome to stay.”

  “No thanks. I promised Joel we�
��d go fishing before it gets dark.”

  She had to think a moment before remembering Joel Dunsmuir was the man staying with the pastor’s family until repairs could be made to the rails. “Ah. Another time, then.”

  He gave her a long look. “Another time.”

  On Monday, Faith studied the gun rack and then checked her list. She wanted to be ready with her order when the salesman from Marblehead arrived. The bell over the door sounded and Mr. Grisbee and Mr. Slocum strolled in, heading for chairs next to the stove.

  Faith stared. They’d been absent ever since Grandpa had given her the management of the store.

  “Morning, Miss Faith,” Mr. Slocum said. “Interesting story in this week’s paper.” He pointed at the vacant rack. “Looks like they done cleaned you out. No wonder you’re wanting to sell. How’s Nate feel about it?”

  She bit her lip, deciding how to respond. As far as she knew, Grandpa hadn’t seen the advertisement and, blessedly, no one had mentioned it at church on Sunday. She cleared her throat, knowing she should have talked it over with him before she placed the notice. “We’ll wait and see what happens.”

  “He out back working on that book of his?” Mr. Grisbee rose from his chair. “Believe I’ll go ask him.”

  “He doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s writing. It makes him forget what he was going to say.” Her stomach fluttered.

  “Won’t be a minute. You coming, Jesse?”

  With a sense of doom, she watched them depart and walk down the gravel path leading to her grandfather’s work space. She missed Rosemary. If she were here, Grandpa might be less likely to light into her. But as long as the Haddons remained, Rosemary wouldn’t be coming to help.

  Faith took the feather duster from the storeroom to keep busy while she waited for the explosion. It wasn’t long in coming.

  Her grandfather stormed in the door, eyes snapping. “The store is not yours to sell. You know that. How could you?”