Faith of the Heart

by Jewell Tweedt

  She plopped down on the chair and eased off her kid boots. Massaging her tired feet , she gave a sigh of pleasure . Removing the pins from her dark brown hair and running her fingers over her scalp she felt the tension leaving her head and neck. Leaning back she closed her eyes. I can rest for fifteen minutes, then I need to rinse out some petticoats and get to bed, she realized. Tomorrow is my turn to open up the café and I have to get the sourdough bread in the oven first thing.

  Right before she swept the floor she set a batch of sourdough starter to proof. Tangy and fragrant it would bake up into tasty bread and rolls that her customers always raved about.

  Rousing herself Connie stepped into the tiny bathing room. Removing her clothing, she washed quickly and slipped into a fresh cotton nightgown that made her sigh again. It was such a good feeling to be warm and safe in her own home. Even though this was her third year of owning the building she still appreciated the luxury of comfort, privacy and security that being independent could provide. She did not take this freedom lightly. Long hours of hard work and determination were beginning to pay off. Having come from a large, noisy and unhappy family had made this little home all the more precious.

  Rinsing out the articles and hanging them on a line stretched across one wall, Connie crossed though another doorway into the compact bedroom. Whitewash walls and lavender curtains gave this room a soft and feminine look. Turning back the matching quilt and snowy sheets, she fluffed up the feather pillow. Her thoughts jumped back to the rope bed and tattered blanket she had shared with a younger sister back home. That sister had married at 15 just to get away from the unhappy home. Now at 18 she had three children and an unhappy marriage of her own. Connie made a mental note to write her sister a letter of encouragement.

  Padding out to the parlor Connie locked the door to the stairs and blew out the lamps. A soft glow from a glowing candle guided her safely back. After climbing into bed she blew out the candle on the nightstand and pulled the covers up to her chin.

  She prayed. Dear Heavenly Father, forgive me for the sins I have committed today.I was cranky toward my cook, Doris ,and cross with the new waitress ,Mae .Please give me patience and strength. Thank you for all the blessings you’ve sent: my café, this home, my friends Tom and Claire, and especially Percy Simonson. Watch over my family in Council Bluffs help me to find a way to reconnect with them and protect our streets from the ruffians that raise such havoc. In Christ’s name I pray..Amen.

  The room, cool, quiet and dark, should have allowed Connie to drop off immediately but instead she found herself staring at the ceiling. Events of the day kept replaying in her head; bits of customers’ conversations, sights and aromas of the many meals she carried, the endless cups of coffee she poured. And, disturbingly, the flutters she felt when Percy was in the room. No man affected her that way before and she was around men all day. Handsome men like Tom Maxwell, important men like the banker Mr. Dawson, and cowboys and ruffians alike. None made her knees wobble like the deputy.

  Percy had come into her restaurant twice today, she recalled, smiling in the dark. Once for breakfast and once for hot coffee and a plateful of her oatmeal raisin cookies he was partial to. She smiled again at the delight in his face as he bit into the first one, still warm from the oven. Eyes crinkling with delight, he was reaching for another while his mouth was still full. All in all he tucked away six large cookies and two huge mugs of coffee laced with heavy cream and sugar.

  Connie’s joy was seeing people relish her good food at her own restaurant. Now days Doris did most of the cooking but the recipes were Connie’s. Her insistence on fresh ingredients, some grown in her yard out back, and absolute cleanliness in the café and its kitchen, along with her bubbly personality, made Rose’s the best diner in town. The hours were long, the work exhausting, but she couldn’t imagine anywhere else she wanted to be.

  Sunlight streaming though gauzy curtains awoke Connie just before her delicate clock chimed. Jumping out of bed and letting out an unladylike yelp at the cold floor, she burst into song. Amazing Grace poured from her lips as she pulled on her underclothing and then a bright yellow calico dress.

  Brushing her long hair, then twisting and pinning it into a neat bun at her neck, she glanced again at the dainty porcelain clock. The first customers would be arriving in under an hour and she still had loaves to form and biscuits to cut out from her famous dough. Yanking on her stockings and shoes she flew down the stairs and raced for the kitchen. Another day of baking, serving and hopefully seeing Percy awaited her. It truly was amazing grace that she had this life.

  An hour later the café was filled with the delicious aromas of coffee, eggs, bacon and sourdough bread and biscuits. Customers sipped, ate and laughed as Connie raced back and forth bringing plates and refilling cups. Being busy was wonderful. People were enjoying themselves and she was earning money. Soon she could pay off her loan and that obstinate banker Dawson would have to eat his words when she owned her place free and clear. Years earlier he balked at giving her a loan. Puffing out his chest like a bantam chicken he proclaimed women should stay at home and raise children. Well, she was showing him.

  Connie was setting a plate of ham and flapjacks in front of the barber when the air seemed to shift around her. Looking up she involuntarily bit her lip as the deputy sheriff strolled in, spurs clanging. He removed his hat and gave her a funny little bow.

  “Morning Miss Rose. How are you this beautiful day?” He sniffed the air appreciatively. “I declare if it don’t smell like heaven in here today.” He plunked down on a chair at the only empty table, his back carefully placed against the wall.

  “Very well, thank you for asking Deputy Simonson,” she replied a bit stiffly. Inwardly she groaned. I sound like I have a rod stuck down my back. Try again, you ninny.

  “Um, what can I bring you?” Her knees wobbled and her hands shook. That was a little better, she thought. Grabbing the order pad she brought it up to her face hoping he wouldn’t notice the pink flush of her cheeks. He did, but said nothing. His own stomach was churning and his heart felt like it was about to burst right out of his chest.

  “Let’s see now, I’m not too hungry,” he began, hoping to mask his own uneasiness. “I’ll take a mess of bacon, ham, scrambled eggs, and a short stack. Oh, and of course, coffee, with cream and sugar.”

  He grinned, dimples flashing and Connie’s heart jumped a beat. “Anything else?“ She held the pencil poised above the order pad.

  “Yeah,” he gulped. “I would like the honor of calling on you Sunday morning and escorting you to church. What do you say?” He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the printed tablecloth.

  Connie caught a whiff of soap and leather, a clean masculine scent. He smelled so good she wanted to move closer and take another whiff. Instead she steadied her hands. The silly notion that she probably smelled like bacon and eggs flitted through her head. Why would he want to spend time with her?

  Before she could stop herself she heard her own voice murmur that she’d be pleased to have him accompany her to church. Clamping her mouth shut she rushed to the kitchen as Percy smiled behind her, both amused and relieved.

  In a few short moments Connie was back with his breakfast and placing it in front of him with a shy smile, turned to wait on the table next to him. Tucking into the piping hot eggs, bacon, and ham, he paused only long enough to pour maple syrup over the flapjacks. The syrup puddled on top, then slowly dripped down the sides of the golden brown cakes. No one could make sourdough flapjacks like Rose’s. Bacon, thick-cut and hickory smoked was extra crispy, just the way he liked it. Washing it down with the steaming hot and very strong coffee, Percy thought about his blessings that early morning.

  He had a job he was good at, a snug room at the local boarding house, and enough food to fill his belly. Plus, he was going to escort the prettiest gal in Omaha to church this coming Sunday. Life was pretty darn good. It hadn’t always been that way. With determination he thrust away the dark t
houghts that wanted to crowd his brain. No! Today was a good day, life was fine now and he wouldn’t go back to the dark places in his head.

  Prior to coming to Omaha, Percy found work as a cow hand on a large ranch in Wyoming. Orphaned as a teenager when a blizzard caught his folks on the open prairie, Percy was accustomed to being on his own. As a boy he was often cold, hungry and alone. Lately he was thinking how nice it would be to marry and settle down. Put down some roots. It would take a special kind of woman to marry him though. Being a lawman was hard on a wife. The hours were long, the people were sometimes dangerous and the pay pretty lousy.

  Connie could take that all in stride. She knew what it took to make a living. She dealt with challenges, owning her own place and dealing with the public and doing all with a big smile and a kind heart. She could deal with the dark moments he faced.If she was willing, if she cared enough.

  “More coffee, Percy?” Connie’s clear voice broke into Percy’s thoughts. “Um, no thanks, I best be getting to work. Sheriff Maxwell will be looking for me.”

  Percy placed some coins on the table, rose and settled his worn cowboy hat on at a rakish angle.

  “See you later Miss Connie. Say, what kind of cookies you got planned for this afternoon?”

  Connie chuckled. “You’ll just have to swing by and see for yourself, Mr. Percy.” She gathered his dishes into a metal tub and winked at him. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  He whistled under his breath and grinned back. Boy, oh boy she could make his heart race with those twinkling brown eyes. “I’ll be seeing you Miss Connie Rose.”

  “I’ll be waiting Mr. Percy Simonson.”

  Deputy Simonson strolled down the plank sidewalk whistling a jaunty tune. It was a fine day in Omaha, the sky so bright blue it took your breath away. A gentle breeze lifted rustled the leaves of an oak tree. Percy paused to watch an industrious squirrel pluck an acorn from the ground, stuff it in his jaw and scamper away. Yup, it was going to be a fine day.

  He stopped in at the livery stable to check on his horse. Blaze was contently munching on tender grass in the back corral. Paddy Murphy, the stable owner, stood nearby leaning on the split pole fence, his eyes closed and face tilted up at the sun. “Hey Paddy, workin’ hard I see.” Percy teased the wizened old man.

  “Ah, shut yer trap, I’m getting some color in my cheeks.” Paddy retorted good-naturedly. “Ya gotta stop and enjoy the sweet moments every once in awhile. There ain’t many purty days like this, ya know.”

  Percy agreed. “You got that right, Murphy. Say Ole Blaze looks mighty happy here. End of the week, I’ll be back to settle my account. Right now I need to get to the jail and relieve the sheriff. He’s pulled an all-nighter.”

  “Yah, I heard tell that you have Buster Jenkins in there. What he do this time?” Murphy spit in disgust. Jenkins was a small time trouble-maker and big time pain in the rear.

  Percy stroked Blaze’s velvety nose. ‘You know, same old stuff. He drank too much corn liquor and ran down Dodge Street stark naked.” Percy grinned, blue eyes twinkling. "Shocked old Widow Jones so much she dropped her false teeth in the street. Then she caused such a ruckus the sheriff had to jail him until the circuit judge shows up next week.”

  He gave the horse one last pat and turned to go. Blaze had often been his only companion before coming to Omaha and Percy made sure he got the best of care. Waving backhanded to Murphy Percy strolled on down to the jail.

  Maxwell looked up from the stove, coffee pot in hand. “Morning Percy,” he yawned loudly. “I swear that Jenkins snores louder than a bear. Kept me up most of the night. Bet he’s got a doozey of a headache today. Serves him right.”

  A loud moan came from the back cell. Tom Maxwell filled a tin mug with the strong black coffee. It smelled and looked like it had been in the pot for hours. “This should help that headache.” He stepped back to the cell and shoved the mug between the bars. “Jenkins shut up that caterwauling and drink this.”

  The big man shuffled to the bars and gratefully took the coffee. He took a swallow and sat back on his bunk, quiet and content for a change.

  “New wanted posters are in. Get familiar with them and then make the morning rounds. I’m going catch some shuteye and be back this afternoon to spell you.”

  “Okay boss. See you then.” Percy glanced back at the prisoner who was now sleeping and smiled inwardly. Good, maybe he could get some work done before Jenkins started complaining again. Tom slipped out the door and Percy picked up the stack of posters and settled into the worn wooden chair. Yup, life was good.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Bells pealed merrily as Claire eagerly bathed and dressed for Sunday morning services. Smoothing her black damask with the jet buttons all down the back, she glanced at herself in the spotty mirror on the bureau. She decided a simple braid wouldn’t do for the Sabbath, so she let her hair fall to her waist, brushing her tresses until they shone one hundred strokes like her mother had taught her. Then she twisted the glimmering mass into a chignon, anchoring it with several pins. Removing her best silk hat from its box, she perched it jauntily on her head and tied its deep green ribbon under her chin. The mossy color deepened the green of her eyes and set off her creamy complexion.

  Bible tucked under her arm, she strolled the two blocks to the small whitewashed church, delighting in the blue skies and fresh air of a Midwest spring morning. She hesitated at the entrance, but soon spotted Connie in a back pew and slid in beside her. Connie patted her hand and smiled as the preacher began the sermon.

  Pastor Stevens was a large, powerful man who spoke with honor and conviction. Claire found herself mesmerized with the force of his words and the message of salvation. “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and ye shall be saved.” Claire had long been a Christian, but she never failed to be moved by the power and simplicity of God’s promise. One only had to believe Jesus died for mankind’s sins and heaven would be the reward. Several hymns concluded the service and Claire stood and shook hands with members of the congregation who were eager to meet the new lady store-keeper.

  After a few minutes she glanced around for Connie hoping to invite her home for lunch and female conversation. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Connie take the arm of Percy Simonson and slip through the front door. A slight tinge of envy surfaced but she pushed it away.

  Never mind, she told herself, I’ve plenty to do at the store. Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest, but the Lord will understand I have work to do. Claire was still feeling a bit sorry for herself when she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Tom Maxwell, hair slicked back and dressed in a crisp white shirt and black trousers.

  “You’re looking mighty fine this Sunday Miss Secord,” Maxwell drawled, his smile making his eyes crinkle with delight. Claire felt herself blush at his comment, opening her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her. “I was wondering if you’d like to go for a buggy ride and a picnic. I’m no cook, but I did manage to put together some sandwiches.”

  Claire had an instant image of the tough lawman preparing a basket lunch and her eyes began to twinkle. “Why, sheriff, I’d be delighted. I’d love another look at your beautiful Morgans.”

  “Why Miss Secord, I had no idea you knew horseflesh.” Maxwell said, genuinely surprised.

  Claire giggled and allowed Tom to help her into his buggy. Two brown and black Morgans turned to stare at the new passenger. “My daddy used to have horses while I was growing up so I know a thing or two about them.” She privately thought of the other things her father had taught her about growing up on the farm wandering to the pistol stowed safely under her mattress.

  “Well then, Miss Claire, I’d like you to meet Danny and Dougie. They’re a couple of rascals, but they sure are beauts and they’ve gotten me through a couple of rough spots.” Maxwell was obviously proud of his steeds. The perfectly matched pair eyed Claire and faced forward. Danny shook his harness as if to say, let’s get going, time’s a-wastin’. So off they went.

&n
bsp; After several minutes Tom reined in the team at a shady spot near the river. Climbing down, he turned and lifted Claire off the buggy seat. The clasp of his arm around her waist made her breath quicken, but he appeared not to notice, whether out of politeness or ignorance she wasn’t sure. He watered his horses and gave them enough rein so that they could crop the green grass underfoot. He spread out an old blanket and the contents of the picnic basket; ham sandwiches, peaches, and lemonade that made for a simple yet delicious lunch. Conversation flowed easily between them, and after they finished eating they went for a stroll along the riverbank. “Ya know, you surprised a lot of folks yesterday with your grand re-opening. People always shopped at Weikert’s, I mean, Weikert-Secord’s, because Ginny and Richard were so friendly, but now they’re saying they’ll shop because your place is so clean and well-stocked. You made a big impression. You should feel good about that,” Maxwell praised her, obviously impressed. “Oh, I do,” Claire agreed enthusiastically, “but yesterday was just the beginning. I’ve got so many plans I can hardly wait to try them.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, I want to sell baked goods—people just gobbled down Connie’s cookies yesterday—and ready-made clothing, and I can hold literary meetings and singing bees and¼”

  “Hold on there girl” Tom interrupted with a chuckle, “there’ll be time. Sounds like you plan to stay awhile.” “Sounds that way to me, too.” Claire smiled shyly at Tom. He sucked in a quick breath as the light illuminated her face and he noticed the gold flecks in her eyes.

  Why she’s real pretty when she smiles. Tom’s heart gave a funny little lurch. Tom old boy, he thought, this girl’s something special.

  They came to a shallow curve in the river. The day had warmed considerably and the curve was a perfect place to wade. They both slipped off their boots and eased into the cool water. Holding up her skirts, Claire stepped gingerly over wet stones. “Ooh this is nice,” she said turning back to Tom. He was busy staring at Claire, not paying attention to what he was doing. Maxwell suddenly made a wild flailing motion before slipping on an unseen rock and landing on his backside in the shallow water. He had such a startled look on his face that Claire burst out laughing clutching her sides, doubled over with the effort of breathing. With an ornery grin, Maxwell reached up and pulled her down into the water next to him. Sputtering, all laughing ceased, she exclaimed, “Now, really!”