by Ann Shorey
“How’d you know who I meant?”
“I’ve got eyes. Thing is, until he declares himself she’s not committed. You’ve got as much chance as he has.” He rose and leaned against one of the bookcases. “Have you given any more thought to finding a job that suits your talents? All your schooling is wasted at Ripley’s Livery.”
The abrupt change of subject caught Curt off guard. He had been considering going back to his former profession, but how could he leave Rip without a helper? Especially after all the man had done for him.
Faith propped open the front door of the mercantile to try to corral any breeze that might ruffle the day’s promised heat. Rosemary bustled in, fanning herself. She dropped her carryall on a counter and turned to Faith, her expression curious. “Curt told me Joel Dunsmuir was killed in a quarry accident and Amy and her baby are staying with you.”
“She’s hoping to find a job as a housekeeper, but the poor thing is too distraught right now. I thought it best that she wait awhile.”
“Would she welcome a caller? I’d like to offer condolences.”
Faith nodded. “I’m sure she’d love to see you again. She showed me that gash you treated on her forehead. It healed beautifully, thanks to you. She’s very grateful.”
“She’s alone at your house today?”
“Grandpa stayed home with her. He’s quite taken with little Sophia.” Faith smiled at the image of her grandfather bouncing Amy’s four-month-old baby on his knee. She knew he had hopes of seeing her babies one day. God willing, he would.
Rosemary tilted her head, her index finger resting on her cheek. “Maybe Amy’s the Lord’s provision for you. She can keep an eye on your grandfather. I know you worry about him.”
Faith considered her words for a moment before responding. “I don’t know. I’d feel I was taking advantage of her. How could she refuse?”
Mr. Slocum and Mr. Grisbee drifted through the open door, tipped their hats to Faith and Rosemary, then settled next to the checkerboard and commenced disputing whose turn it was to go first.
“They’re as reliable as roosters,” Rosemary said with a grin. “Time to start our day.” She reached into her carryall. “I brought you something.”
Faith hefted the bag of coins Rosemary handed her. “Feels like Curt was successful. He must’ve gone out last night after taking me home.” She kept her voice low so the woodstove regulars wouldn’t overhear. She didn’t want her troubles spread all over town.
“He only has a few more names he hasn’t crossed off the list.” Rosemary tied her apron around her waist. “Has the sheriff discovered anything new about the person who stole your money?”
“I haven’t heard a word. I doubt he’s trying very hard. He seems fixed on the idea that Curt’s the thief.” She dropped the bag in the cash drawer and turned the key. She’d count the money later.
Mr. Slocum raised his head. “Someone stole your money? When was that?”
Faith grimaced. Rosemary might as well have told the editor of the Noble Springs Observer. “Awhile ago.”
Rosemary mouthed a regretful “I’m sorry,” and busied herself rearranging bolts of fabric.
Mr. Grisbee shuffled to her side. “Me and Jesse can take turns watching the place, Miss Faith. Bad enough your guns was stole. Now they’re takin’ your cash money.” He shook his head, his wrinkled features sorrowful. “Don’t know what this town’s comin’ to.”
“You’re very kind, but I wouldn’t dream of asking you to spend your days here.” Images of the woodstove regulars patrolling the mercantile made her cringe. Then she grinned to herself. They already watched the door like hungry puppies waiting for feeding time.
“We’d be glad to help out,” Mr. Slocum said. “Give us something to do.”
Rosemary and Faith exchanged a glance. Rosemary shrugged.
“Then I accept,” Faith said. “You can start today. I’m going to the bank later. Who wants to come with me?”
While they argued among themselves, she returned to the cash drawer and counted the money Curt had collected. The salesman from Marblehead Gun Works was due soon. Maybe she had enough to order one shotgun.
When she left for the bank, Mr. Slocum stuck close to her side. “Me and Harold decided to trade off. Next time he’ll go with you, and I’ll guard the store.”
His neatly trimmed gray beard matched his keen gray eyes. In spite of her initial reluctance, Faith felt safer in his company. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but the theft on Saturday had shaken her, both mentally and physically. For the time being, she’d welcome an escort.
Faith turned toward the teller cage on her left when she entered the hushed interior of the Noble Springs National Bank. “Miss Faith,” Mr. Slocum whispered, “Paulson’s trying to get your attention.” He pointed to the president’s desk at the far end of the lobby.
She glanced at Mr. Paulson, wondering what he wanted. She’d been meticulous with the store’s records since Curt taught her how to make entries. While the teller entered the amount of her deposit in her passbook, Faith noticed Mr. Paulson hurrying toward them.
“I have some good news for you.” He smiled broadly at her. “Would you have a moment to discuss an important matter?”
“I’ll wait over there.” Mr. Slocum pointed to a bench inside the door.
The banker took her elbow and guided her to a chair in front of his desk. “I had a visitor yesterday. This person is very interested in purchasing the mercantile—lock, stock, and barrel.” He rubbed his hands together. “I knew you’d be happy. We just have to set a fair price.”
Faith sucked in a breath and held it for a moment. Sell the store, just when she was beginning to see results from her efforts?
He studied her face. “You don’t look pleased. My understanding was you wanted to unload the business. You did place an advertisement in the Observer.”
“That was over a month ago. I told you my grandfather cancelled the item.” She paused a moment, pondering. “Who would come out of nowhere and offer to buy the mercantile now?”
“A local businessman.”
“Who?”
“Gilbert Allen. He owns the cooperage.”
Faith planted her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her face on her hand. A jumble of thoughts spun through her mind. This was their chance to be part of the next wagon train to leave. But now she had Amy to consider. They couldn’t go off and abandon her and Sophia.
“How much did he offer?” she asked in a small voice, half afraid he’d name an amount so high she couldn’t refuse.
“Not as much as the mercantile’s worth, unfortunately, but if you’re interested I’ll tell him your price and see if he’ll match it.”
Relieved, she pushed herself to her feet. “Right now there is no price. I want to see the business attain its former luster first.”
“You’re making a mistake. It could be months before you see much profit.”
“So be it. Tell Mr. Allen I said no.”
22
By the time Faith arrived home that evening, she’d decided not to tell Grandpa about Mr. Allen’s desire to purchase the mercantile. She had questions about the cooper’s proposition, and they centered on Royal. He had to be the one who prompted the offer. When she saw him Sunday, she’d demand an explanation.
The stench of lye combined with the odor of burned bread overwhelmed her when she entered the house. Grandpa sat at a table in the parlor, writing. He smiled at her when she closed the door.
“It smells terrible in here,” she said. “What happened?”
“I think Amy had a mishap in the kitchen. Glad you’re home. I’d say she needs your help.”
Faith dropped her carryall next to the hall tree and hastened toward the source of the odors. A wash boiler sat on the stove, billowing steam. Amy sat at the kitchen table scraping at the charred surface of a pan of cornbread.
“Amy, what are you doing?”
She turned teary eyes toward Faith. “I though
t I’d surprise you and have fresh bread ready for supper. But then I had to wash Sophia’s diapers, and I forgot about the oven temperature when I heated the stove. I’m so sorry.”
Faith dashed to the back door and flung it open. “Let’s get some air in here. I can’t breathe.”
Amy slumped in her chair. “You probably want me to leave.”
“Not at all.” Faith hugged her thin shoulders. How had Amy managed her home when Joel was alive? She couldn’t imagine deciding to heat a wash boiler on an afternoon when the temperatures hovered in the high nineties. She gave the girl a pat on the arm. “Why don’t you go see to Sophia while I prepare supper?”
Amy nodded and scurried from the room.
The surface of Pioneer Lake sparkled like scattered jewels. Faith leaned against the trunk of a white oak and emitted a deep sigh. Light filtered through the canopy of leaves, dappling her muslin skirt.
“That sounded heartfelt,” Royal said. “Did you have a trying morning?”
“I’ve had an unusual week.” She rummaged in the picnic basket and drew out a plate of shortbread. The cookies had dark brown edges. “Amy Dunsmuir’s been helping me with the cooking as a way to pay for her keep. But she’s easily distracted. When I arrive home in the evenings, I never know if we’ll have an edible meal, or one that’s cooked beyond a fare-thee-well.”
He selected a shortbread and took a bite. “A little charred. Not too bad.” He reclined on the quilt covering the grass, resting his weight on his elbows. A lock of black hair dropped over his forehead. Her pulse increased at the sight of his muscular body stretched out next to her. If only he weren’t so handsome . . .
“So you have both young Mrs. Dunsmuir and your grandfather to look after, not to mention the store. No wonder you’re tired. Have you given any more thought to selling the business?” His voice sounded casual, but his gaze sharpened.
Faith folded her arms across her chest. “I planned to ask you about that. It seems Mr. Allen visited the banker and told him he wanted to buy us out.” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell him we were ready to sell?”
Royal studied the cookie in his hand as though the answer to her question was written on its surface. After several moments he sat upright. “He knows we’re courting, and asked me what my intentions were.”
“You talk about me?” She felt herself flush. “How dare you!”
He dropped the shortbread onto the plate. “I’d never say anything improper, but I have mentioned how taken I am with you, and that your struggles worry me.”
Speechless, Faith tried to comprehend what he’d just said. She remembered her brother talking about his sweetheart before he left to join the Army. He’d left no doubt that he wanted to marry the girl when he came home. Was this the sort of conversation Royal had with his employer?
He slid closer, so that their shoulders touched. He slipped an arm around her waist. “I told Gil Allen that my intentions toward you were honorable. I said if you’d have me, I wanted you to be my wife.”
Her breath whooshed from her lungs. She met his intent gaze. “Are you asking me?”
“I’m asking you.” He cupped a hand around the back of her head and leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.
She leaned against him. The elusive Royal Baxter had just proposed marriage—to her.
The throbbing of her pulse filled her throat. Her head screamed at her to say yes, but her heart hesitated. “You’ve taken me by surprise. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed each fingertip. “We’ll have the wedding just before we leave for Oregon.”
“There’s no time.”
“What?”
“June’s half over. By the time we’re wed, it will be too late to start west. According to the guidebooks—”
He nuzzled the palm of her hand with his lips. “We can winter over somewhere on the way and wait for spring.”
In spite of the logic of his statement, Faith felt like she was in a runaway carriage, headed downhill. She slipped from his embrace and gave him a shaky smile. “It’s too hard to think when you’re this close.”
“What’s there to think about? You know I’m drawn to you, and I believe you feel the same toward me. You’re a perfect partner for a new life in Oregon. Of course, in the meantime the mercantile will have to be sold. You realize that, don’t you?”
With a sense of unreality, she felt she was observing a stranger from a distance. He had no right to make decisions for her.
Apparently interpreting her silence for acquiescence, Royal leaned close. “Just imagine our home on Officer’s Row. You’d be an ideal major’s wife.”
But you’re not a major yet, she wanted to say. You’re a cooper with big ideas.
She reached for his hand. “Will you give me a little time? I have more to consider than my personal desires.”
A hurt expression crossed his features. “Take all the time you need.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be waiting.”
Faith sat close to his side on the ride home. His proposal spun through her mind until her thoughts bumped against a wall.
Royal hadn’t said he loved her.
When Faith entered the mercantile on Monday morning, she surveyed the large room with fresh vision. She tried to imagine how she would feel when she handed the keys to a new owner and left Noble Springs forever.
Rosemary’s arrival interrupted her musings. Faith rested her eyes on her friend’s bright face. Rosemary had blossomed since she’d begun helping at the store. A few of the women in town sought her out for advice, both regarding merchandise and her herbal remedies. And Curt—Faith took a deep breath. She’d fought down images of Curt ever since Royal left her at her door the previous afternoon. An almost-betrothed woman shouldn’t be thinking of anyone but her fiancé.
“Your head’s in the clouds today,” Rosemary said. “I’ve said good morning twice and you haven’t answered.”
“I’m sorry. My mind is elsewhere.” She stepped close to her friend and glanced around to be sure no customers approached. Thankfully the woodstove regulars hadn’t yet arrived. “Royal proposed marriage yesterday. He plans to go to Oregon and take me with him as his wife.”
Rosemary’s jaw dropped. “What did you say to him?”
“I asked for time to think about it.” She gestured at the room. “There’s Grandpa to consider, and Amy, and the store . . . and you.”
“You have to follow your heart. I have a feeling if you truly wanted to marry Royal, you’d have said yes in spite of the difficulties.”
“He took me so by surprise. I just wasn’t ready.” She walked to one of the chairs and sank down. “Royal said he’d wait.”
“But for how long?”
By the end of the week, Faith was no closer to a decision about Royal than she’d been on Sunday. She knew he worked long hours at the cooperage. Somehow not seeing him on a daily basis made it easier to ponder the issues raised by his proposal. Until she was sure of her choice, she wouldn’t mention marriage to Grandpa. He made no secret of his distrust of Royal. Faith trembled at the thought of broaching the subject.
As she rolled down the shades preparatory to closing the mercantile for the day, Mr. Slocum walked out of the storeroom. “Door’s bolted. Never saw nothing suspicious this afternoon.”
“It’s good of you and Mr. Grisbee to take turns staying every day, but it’s been two weeks since the money was taken. I’m sure the thief is long gone.”
“Doesn’t matter. Girl like you, alone here. Might give someone else ideas. Me and Harold will watch out for you.” He held the door open after she gathered her bonnet and carryall.
“You’re a blessing. Thank you.” She snapped the lock securing the door. “Until Monday, then.”
He tipped his battered felt hat and strode away.
She couldn’t imagine why she’d ever thought the two old men were nuisances. She’d come to appreciate them in spite of their gruff natures.
When she turned the corner and headed west toward home, she faced a molten ball of heat shimmering above the hills. Mentally, Faith crossed her fingers, hoping Amy hadn’t decided to cook anything that required a hot oven. A light supper of eggs and salad greens sounded perfect.
She sighed with relief as she left the boardwalk and hurried up the stone path to their door. Summer was a season to be endured with as much grace as possible. Once inside she could take off her boots, no matter what Grandpa said about the impropriety of going barefoot.
“Evening, Faith.” Curt’s voice called when she entered the house.
“I didn’t expect—” Faith stopped at the doorway to the parlor, shocked by the jealousy that sliced through her. Curt sat on the sofa near Amy, while Grandpa jiggled Sophia on his lap. Curt and Amy? She forced a pleasant smile.
He stood. “I wanted to talk to you this evening, so came on by after Rip closed the livery.”
“If you wanted to talk to me, why didn’t you go to the mercantile?” Her voice sounded sharper than she intended.
He raised an eyebrow. “Your house is closer. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Well, please talk then. I’m listening.”
“I meant later. We’ll go for a walk.”
She almost groaned at the thought of going back into the heat. “Let’s at least stay inside until sundown. It’s suffocating out there.”
Grandpa cleared his throat. “We’ve been waiting for you. Amy has supper ready.”
As if sensing the tension in the air, the girl sent Faith a hopeful look. “I made something from your mother’s recipe book—egg salad and greens.”
Amy’s earnest expression melted Faith’s ill humor. She shouldn’t take her anxieties out on the poor girl. If Curt were interested in Amy, it would probably be a good thing for both of them. She ignored a tiny stab of pain at the idea.
“That’s exactly what I had in mind. I’ll set out the plates.”
