by Ann Shorey
Faith and Curt walked toward town in silence for the first few moments. Lightning bugs blinked in the shadows.
He slowed his steps to keep pace with her shorter stride. “We saw those lights over silent battlefields at night. You wouldn’t think they’d exist in such a place. They reminded me of home during times I sorely needed the reminder.” Curt’s voice sounded wistful at the remembrance.
Faith stifled an impulse to take his hand. Since he’d shared with her the visions that tormented him, he’d been far more open about his past life. His words created a bond between them that she didn’t feel with her almost-fiancé. It wasn’t right that she felt closer to a family friend. She promised herself that next time she saw Royal, she’d ask him to talk to her about some of his experiences.
Her thoughts returned to Curt. “I like lightning bugs too,” she said. “Maxwell and I used to capture them.”
He grinned at her. “Who caught the most?”
“Me. I was quicker.”
He tucked a hand under her elbow. “Now that I’ve finished collecting your debts, I’d like to take another look at your grandfather’s ledgers. I think I may have discovered a connection between those customers who say they don’t owe you anything.”
“Tell me.”
“I want to be sure first.” They turned at Courthouse Square.
Faith shuddered when they passed the jail. She wished she knew whether the sheriff had found any trace of the thieves. Almost as a reflex, she tightened her elbow against her side, pressing Curt’s hand close. In response, he squeezed her arm.
Once inside the mercantile, he lowered the lamp above the cash drawer and touched a match to the wick. An island of light spread over one side of the darkened room.
Faith placed the ledgers within the borders of the island, pushing the books in Curt’s direction. “If you can explain this, maybe we can press our claim with them. No one’s offered anything in writing to prove that their merchandise was a gift.”
“It’s possible you don’t have a claim.”
Her jaw dropped. “Why not?”
He took a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and opened last year’s ledger. “It will take me a few minutes to find pages with these names. Be patient.”
She blew out an exaggerated breath. Placing her elbows on the counter, she rested her face on her palms. “I’m waiting, but I’m not patient.” Her toe tapped against the floor.
“You of all people know how hard it was to make sense of these pages.” His eyes crinkled with amusement. “Unless you’ve organized everything since I last looked through these books.”
She laughed. “I’m afraid not. Tell me what you’re looking for. Maybe I can help.”
“We had to fill in prices for some of the goods, remember? Do you remember which people you talked to who told you their merchandise was given to them?”
She thought for a moment. “Mr. Bingham—he has that run-down farm a couple miles south of town—was one. The milliner, Miss Lytle, was another.”
He shoved a ledger in her direction. “Please look for their names, and mark the pages if you find them.”
Faith crossed the room and retrieved the shears from the table she used when cutting fabric. While Curt turned pages, she clipped a piece of newsprint into strips.
“Here are bookmarks.” She placed them on the counter between the two ledgers.
Nodding acknowledgment, he continued his perusal.
Twenty minutes or so passed while they searched for names and marked entries. Finally, Curt closed the book he’d been reviewing. Its edges bristled with limp strips of white paper. He looked at Faith. “Have you finished?”
“Yes. Now tell me—”
“Did you notice anything in particular about those accounts?”
She grinned at him. “I did. These were the ones we had to write in the amount owed. All Grandpa did was enter what they bought.”
“Notice anything else?”
Flipping back through the pages she’d marked, Faith took a second look, then sent Curt a questioning glance. “In this book, they all have 20327 written at the bottom. Do yours?”
A triumphant expression crossed his face. “Yes. That’s what I thought we’d find. When your granddad didn’t enter an amount due, I think it meant he didn’t intend those customers to pay.”
Faith’s hopes for recovering the remaining debt sank to her shoes. If her grandfather gave the listed items away, she had no right to press anyone for payment. Silently berating herself for counting on profits she’d never receive, she asked, “So, what do the numbers mean? Added together, they don’t equal the price of the merchandise. None of the customers bought—were given—identical goods.”
Curt rubbed his forehead. “Beats me. You’ll have to ask your granddad.”
“Then he’ll know we’ve been pestering people. He warned me to be careful who I approached. At the time, I didn’t realize what he meant.”
“I’m sorry.” He took her hand in his callused one. “I know you were hoping for more. Between the theft of what I collected earlier and now this . . .”
She closed her fingers around his, wishing she could lean against his broad shoulder for comfort. Instead, she took a step backward. Curt was a friend, but he was also a man. A very attractive one.
Faith released his hand. “Thank you for all you’ve done to help me.” She straightened her shoulders. “Without you, I’d still be floundering. At least now I know how to keep track of the money when it comes in. It may take a long time, but I’m determined—”
The bell over the door jangled. Faith jumped at the sound and spun toward the doorway. “Sheriff Cooper. What on earth?”
“I might ask your friend there the same thing.” The lawman eased his lanky frame into the room. “Saw a light shining around the shades. Wondered who was here so late.” He pointed at the open ledgers. “You sure it’s a good idea to let a stranger know your business?”
Anger burned Faith’s cheeks. “I told you before, Curt is a family friend.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “I do appreciate your checking when you saw our light, but now I suggest you turn your attention to finding the man who robbed me.”
He tipped his hat. “That’s what I’m doing, Miss Faith.”
23
Faith surveyed the flowers planted next to the porch. Morning glory weeds and wild clover threatened to choke the blooms Rosemary had planted. She looked down at her sprigged muslin skirt. If she had the time, she’d change into a work dress and tackle the intruders, but Royal would be arriving any minute.
It had been two weeks since he proposed and she’d promised an answer today. Her stomach fluttered. He’d been part of her daydreams for years, and out of all the girls in Noble Springs, he had chosen her. She ought to be ecstatic.
His buggy rumbled into view. Faith slipped inside the front door and said to Grandpa, “I’m leaving now.”
He turned in his chair. “Amy and I will be fine. You watch yourself with that fellow.”
She bent to kiss his cheek, wondering how he’d respond if she told him “that fellow” wanted to marry her. “I’ll be back in time for supper.”
He grunted and resumed his writing.
Faith closed the door behind her as Royal approached on the stone walkway. He carried his hat in his hand, his dark hair shining with Macassar oil. Her heart lifted at the sight of his confident stride. When they were together, he charmed her doubts into submission.
He slid an arm around her waist. “You’re prettier than those flowers.”
Conscious of Grandpa at his post in front of the parlor window, she stepped to one side, but her smile didn’t leave her lips. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been counting the hours until this afternoon,” he said as he helped her into the buggy.
“Today has been on my mind, as well.”
Royal shook the reins and guided the horse along the road toward town. “Have you seen the bandstand that’s being built in the new park
across from the tracks?”
“Not yet. Everyone who comes into the store is talking about it.”
“The mayor’s committee has a bang-up Independence Day celebration planned for Wednesday.” He squeezed her hand. “Won’t be anything compared to how I’ll celebrate when you say yes.”
Faith swallowed hard when Royal drew the buggy to a stop in front of the bandstand. He jumped down, then reached up and circled her waist with his hands, swinging her to the ground. They walked toward the new structure, Royal holding her arm. “See the fine latticework?” he asked. “We cut those pieces at the cooperage.”
“Beautiful.”
Afternoon sun slanted across the roof and spread gold over the freshly mowed field. Mourning doves scooted about, foraging for seeds among the cuttings. When Faith and Royal drew close, the birds flared up and disappeared.
Royal dusted off the top step before patting the empty space at his side. Faith spread her skirt and settled next to him. The fragrance of his hair oil mingled with the sweet smell of cut grass.
He reached over, cupping her cheek with work-roughened fingers. “What have you decided?” His breath felt warm on her skin.
A tingle tripped down her throat. When he was this near, she couldn’t think straight. It would be so easy to say yes, to sell the mercantile, and leave for Oregon. She thought of lush meadows, high mountains, broad, flowing rivers.
Trembling, she straightened. “I cannot let the business go while it’s so depleted. I must ask you for more time.” She fought to ban the quiver from her voice.
Royal stared at her, a stunned expression on his face. “You don’t have to sell that blasted store before you say yes. I’m asking you to marry me. We can work out the details together.” He clasped her hands, beseeching her with his eyes.
“It would be unfair to you if I agreed. The mercantile’s fate is ultimately up to my grandfather.”
“You said he turned it over to you.” His eyes narrowed.
“I’m to run the business. He’s made it very clear that I can’t make the decision to sell.”
He’d turned his proposal into an argument. If he loved her, he would respect her wishes. She slid a few inches away. “Please give me a couple of months. We’re at a turning point. I’m sure profits will increase.”
Royal gathered her into his arms. He slipped one hand around the back of her neck and kissed the lobe of her ear, then moved his lips to her mouth. The heat from his kiss sent sparks flying through her.
“Are you sure you want to wait?” he whispered against her cheek.
Breathless, she put a hand to her throat, feeling her heart pound through the thin fabric of her bodice. “No, Royal, at this moment I don’t want to wait.” She stood on shaky legs and descended the steps. “But I must. I pray you’ll agree.”
A puff of wind whirled grass cuttings through the air. With an annoyed frown, he brushed chaff from his black trousers. “I’ve been planning to visit Jefferson City. I’ll leave tomorrow to give you time to decide. When I return, I expect you to set a date.”
Still reeling from the effects of his kiss, she stammered, “How long will you be away?”
“How long will it take you to make up your mind?”
It appeared Royal could turn his charm on and off at will, and during the ride home it had been off. He walked her to the door without a word, then spun on his heel and strode away.
Faith entered the house and ran upstairs without greeting her grandfather or Amy. She couldn’t let them see her so upset.
She flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling. If only she had someone to help her make sense of her conflicting desires. Royal’s magnetism drew her toward him, the way a cyclone sucked up everything in its path. But once she was alone, she could see past her whirling emotions enough to wonder why he pressed so hard for a commitment, yet never said the word “love.”
Sighing, she stood and paced, his passionate kiss burning in her memory. Lord, please show me what to do.
Talk to Rosemary. Faith sensed, rather than heard, the words. The mantel clock downstairs chimed four. She had time to walk to her friend’s house and return before supper.
Standing in front of the pier glass, she settled her bonnet back over her braided chignon and smoothed loose tendrils of hair behind her ears.
“You’re a Jack-in-the-box today,” Grandpa said when she descended the stairs. “Up, down, up, down.” He chuckled at his own humor.
“I’m going to visit Rosemary, but I shan’t be long.”
She smiled at Amy, who sat sewing a garment for Sophia.
Amy returned the smile. “Have a nice visit.”
Faith wished she could invite her along, but five blocks would be too great a distance to walk carrying a five-month-old baby, and the idea of leaving Sophia in Grandpa’s care gave her pause.
Over the three weeks Amy had been with them, she’d become a part of their household. Faith knew they’d miss her when she found a position as housekeeper. So far, neither she nor Curt had come up with any prospects.
She huffed with mild frustration as she set off toward town. Life grew more complicated every day.
Curt answered the door when Faith knocked. His shirt was rolled up to the elbows and sawdust clung to his trouser legs. A broad grin lit his features. “This is a nice surprise. Guess you’re here to see my sister.”
She nodded and stepped around a dozing Bodie to enter the room. “It appears I’ve interrupted you in the middle of a project. I apologize.”
Rosemary walked up behind him. “Curt’s making a carriage for Amy Dunsmuir’s baby. Wait until you see it. He’s done such a clever job.”
Faith felt the same stab of jealousy she’d experienced when she saw Curt and Amy together in her parlor. What was the matter with her? She’d come to talk to Rosemary about marrying Royal, and here she was jealous over Curt’s attraction to their young guest.
She forced a smile. “How thoughtful of you. The poor girl can’t get out for any exercise unless I’m home to watch Sophia. This way she’ll be able to take the baby with her.”
Curt’s warm brown eyes lit with pleasure. “Thank you. I hoped you’d be pleased.”
He must have meant he hoped Amy would be pleased. Sure he’d misspoken, she turned to Rosemary. “If you have a few minutes, could we talk?”
Rosemary slipped an arm around Faith’s shoulders. “Come in the kitchen. I made some chamomile tea this afternoon. It’s cooling in the springhouse.”
Curt stepped around them, headed in the direction of the back porch. “I’ll take a glass of that tea if you’re willing to share.”
His sister shook her head and gave him a playful push. “Go on with your task. I’ll bring your tea.” She bustled past him and soon carried a jar filled with pale green liquid toward the house. After taking a glass of the cooled beverage to her brother, she placed two more on the kitchen table and sat facing Faith.
“Wasn’t this the day you were to give Royal your answer? You look too disquieted to be announcing an engagement.”
Faith’s composure crumpled. “I told him I needed to wait longer.” She blinked back tears. “I just can’t abandon the mercantile the way it is. Once upon a time our store was the finest establishment in town. One day, it will be again.”
“What did Royal say?”
“He’s angry.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “He’s leaving for Jefferson City tomorrow, and demanded an answer when he returns.”
Rosemary studied her in silence for a moment. “Is this the kind of man you want to marry?” she asked in a gentle voice. “A bully?”
“He’s not like that, not normally. I don’t blame him for being frustrated. I promised him an answer, now I tell him to wait.” Faith leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “There’s so much about him that draws me. But at other times . . . I don’t know what to do. When he comes back, what will I say?”
“You’ll know when the time comes. The Lord will give you the w
ords.”
Faith lifted her glass of tea. “Thank you. I needed the reminder.” She sipped the lemony-tasting beverage. “I’m so glad I have you to talk to.”
Through an open window, she heard sounds of a saw ripping wood. A bittersweet smile crossed her face. Amy was a fortunate girl to have captured Curt’s interest.
As Curt’s hands fashioned a hood for the baby’s carriage, his mind stayed with the conversation he’d overheard. Baxter was a fool if he didn’t know what a treasure he had in Faith. She worked in her granddad’s store without complaint, took care of their meals and their home, and still managed to look fresh and desirable every time he saw her. If she were his, he’d wait as long as necessary to claim her as his bride.
He jerked the saw through a thin board, then groaned when he saw the wood split along the grain. Slow down, Saxon, he admonished himself. He wanted this carriage to be perfect enough to elicit Faith’s admiration. Now that they’d completed their work on the ledgers, he needed another reason to see her. Crafting a carriage for Amy’s baby was a stroke of genius. They could visit while Amy took Sophia for walks.
The back door creaked. Rosemary walked onto the porch carrying a tiny flowered quilt. “We can line the bottom and sides with this to make it soft.” She ran her fingers along the side walls. “This wood is as smooth as satin. You must’ve spent hours sanding.”
He shrugged, trying to seem offhand. “Gives me something to do. D’you think Faith will like the carriage?”
“I thought you were building it for Amy.” Her voice teased.
“I am.” Grabbing a piece of sandpaper, he rubbed at a support bar for the hood. “But only because I can’t think of anything to build for Faith.” As soon as the words were out, he wished he hadn’t said them. No sense admitting he cared about a woman he couldn’t have.
Rosemary tucked the quilt under one arm and reached up to put her free hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t we ask Faith, Amy, and Judge Lindberg to join us for the Independence Day celebration? We can take a picnic and watch the parade and speeches.” Her eyes sparkled. “The carriage will be finished. What a perfect opportunity to show it off—and spend time with Faith.”
