by Megan Besing
Slow minutes ticked by. To occupy her time, she opened the display case beneath the scales and bent down to arrange wind-up toys, harmonicas, and china dolls in some semblance of order. At this season of the year, few children received a new plaything, but by Christmas she knew little hands would be pressed to the front of the case.
She bit her lip. It wouldn’t do to become too attached to this tiny community. By Christmas, she’d be in Spokane Falls. Someone else would sell these toys to eager children.
“Is anyone here?” A male voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Yes, one moment.” Helena jumped to her feet and froze. Mr. McNabb stood inside the door, a sheet of paper in his hand. Her pulse raced. She’d been sure they’d never meet again after her thoughtless remark at the cemetery.
He touched the brim of his hat, a half smile playing across his lips. “Miss Erickson. I need a few items. Is Mr. Wolford here?”
“He stepped out for a bit. I can help you.” She swallowed the squeak in her voice. “May I see your list?”
His fingers brushed hers when he handed her the paper. To hide her heated cheeks, she dipped her head as she read aloud. “Coffee, salt, flour, beans, sugar. Cartridges, powder, birdshot. Goodness, quite a list.” She felt herself flush a second time. She shouldn’t make personal comments.
“I’ve been…distracted. Let things run out.”
“Tell me how much you need of the bulk items and we’ll have this together in no time. I’m sure you already know where the ammunition is kept.” She did her best to imitate Mr. Wolford’s brisk manner.
Mr. McNabb blinked then told her the quantities he needed. As soon as he finished speaking, she bustled toward a row of bins and began filling bags with his supplies. All too soon, she had his purchases totaled and wrapped.
She added the amount of the sale to the day’s ledger page. “Thank you.” She used her best Mr. Wolford voice as she handed him his change.
He jingled the coins from hand to hand. Cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you’d like me to take you home after closing. I’m going that way.”
She hesitated a long moment before lifting her gaze to meet his.
“That would be fine. Thank you.”
On Saturday, the savory aroma of stewed chicken greeted Helena when she entered the Hallidays’ cabin after work. Sarah stood in the kitchen area cutting strips of dough into short pieces. She glanced up from her task.
“You’re just in time. Daniel will be here soon.”
Helena tensed. Mr. McNabb never had supper with them. She folded her arms across her waist and stepped next to the aproned woman. “I hope you’re not matchmaking.” She kept a smile on her lips to take the harshness from her words. “You know I plan to leave in August.”
“I do know that.” The knife Sarah held made rhythmic bumping sounds as a pile of noodles accumulated on the cutting board. She paused to look at Helena. “Today’s his birthday. It didn’t seem right to leave the poor man alone in his cabin. He’ll be missing his brother. They always celebrated their birthdays together.”
“I’m sorry, Sarah. I spoke without thinking.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, dear. I have been known to indulge in matchmaking from time to time.” She patted Helena’s shoulder with a floury hand. “Now you might want to take a moment to tidy your hair and splash on a bit of rosewater.”
Helena suppressed a smile as she turned toward her room. Birthday or not, Sarah sounded like a matchmaker.
Within the next half hour, Uncle Will, Beth, and Grant had washed at the basin on the porch and escorted Mr. McNabb to the festive meal. The fragrance of chicken and noodles rose from a tureen at one end of the table. Bowls of nutmeg squash and boiled new potatoes rested between a plate of sliced bread and one of fresh butter.
The tantalizing meal did nothing to settle the butterflies in Helena’s stomach. She hadn’t expected Sarah to seat her next to Mr. McNabb, but Sarah insisted. While Uncle Will said grace, Helena prayed she could calm down enough to eat.
As food was handed from one to another around the table, she sensed Mr. McNabb’s eyes on her. He took up the tureen.
“I’ll hold this while you serve yourself. It’s heavy.”
Helena murmured her thanks and ladled a small portion onto her plate. His kindness left her feeling unsettled, as did his plans to buy her ticket to Illinois. He owed her nothing. As soon as wheat harvest commenced, she’d leave for Spokane Falls. If he believed she returned to Illinois, so much the better.
Family chatter rose and fell during the meal, providing a welcome distraction. She tried not to notice how Mr. McNabb’s damp red hair curled at the back of his neck. Or the way his blue chambray shirt stretched over his broad shoulders.
She excused herself to clear the table as soon as everyone finished. While she stacked soiled dishes in the basin, Sarah bustled over to a round tin box near the stove. The cover clattered to one side when she opened the container and lifted out a dessert.
With a flourish, she placed the caramel-frosted cake in front of Daniel. “Happy birthday!” Her blue eyes twinkled at Helena. “Would you mind serving, since it’s your recipe?”
“I’d be happy to.” She hoped Sarah heard the note of wry amusement in her voice. Not matchmaking, indeed.
After everyone received a slice, Helena tasted the jam-swirled cake, savoring the mixture of caramel icing and tart blackberry preserves. “This is delicious, Sarah.”
“Indeed it is.” Daniel rested his fork on his plate. “Best I ever ate.”
Uncle Will reared back in his chair. “This is just a sample. Helena treats us to her cooking every Sunday.” He patted his stomach. “She and Sarah are quite a pair at the stove.”
Beth and Grant added their enthusiastic praise as they passed their plates for second servings.
Helena stifled a groan. The Hallidays were dear people, but Mr. McNabb couldn’t possibly be interested in her cooking abilities, or anything else about her for that matter.
At bedtime, Beth followed Helena into her room. Helena watched as Beth moved the folded newspaper to one side and laid a gentle finger on the pink and gold cup and saucer atop the bureau.
“These are so pretty.”
“They were my mother’s. I put them there to remind me of her.” She paused. Maybe the girl resented giving up her space in the small cabin. “But this is really your room. Would you like me to put them away?”
“Oh, no. We don’t have many pretty things anymore. When we came from Illinois, we only had one wagon to carry all our belongings. Mama cried when she had to leave so much behind.”
Helena sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside her.
Beth nestled close. “I like having you here. I wish you’d stay.” She pointed at the newspaper. “I hope you don’t think I was snooping, but when I put my clean clothes away I saw you had circled some advertisements. That’s The Spokane Falls Review—are you going there?”
Her woebegone expression tore at Helena’s heart. She slipped her arm around Beth’s waist. “Yes. As soon as I earn enough money. I circled advertisements for rooms to rent so I know how much I’ll need.”
“Is that why you give Mama a dollar each Saturday? To live here?”
“It’s only right, Beth. Groceries cost money.”
“If you have to pay anyway, why not stay here?” Beth stood, giving her a knowing smile. “I see how Mr. McNabb watches you. I think he’s sorry he didn’t take you for his bride.”
Helena shook her head. “I doubt that very much. You know he’s planning to buy my train ticket as soon as the harvest comes in.”
“Maybe he’s changed his mind.” Beth moved to the doorway. “I think you should pray about it. Good night, Helena.”
After she left, Helena stared down at her hands. Life seemed so simple to a thirteen-year-old. Just because Mr. McNabb enjoyed her cake recipe didn’t mean he’d changed his mind.
Chapter 10
Helena tucked the newsp
aper into her satchel when she left for work the following Monday. Two of the advertisements for rooms looked promising. When she had an opportunity, she’d go to the post office and send letters of inquiry.
Mr. Wolford greeted her at the door of the mercantile. A smile lifted his droopy mustache. “You did a fine job when I was gone last week. The ledger balanced and the store is in good order.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m glad you were pleased.”
“Indeed I am.” He stepped away to hold the door for her then followed her inside as she placed her satchel behind a counter. When she looked up, he was studying her with a thoughtful expression. “Would you be able to manage things here for a few weeks? Just for part of each day?” When she hesitated, he hurried on. “I’d add another dollar a week to your salary, of course.”
The extra money would assure her of enough funds to make a new start in Spokane Falls. Then her mind flitted over rough miners who came in for supplies, homesteaders who asked for credit until crops came in, and housewives who haggled over every penny. Waiting on customers was one thing, but being responsible for the business was a great deal more.
She sucked in a deep breath. Beth suggested she pray about leaving. Perhaps the opportunity to earn extra money was her answer. “Thank you for your confidence in me. When will I start?”
“This afternoon. Mrs. Wolford is ill, and I need to be at home more to tend to her.”
“Gracious. I’ll do my best for you, sir.”
“I’ll be counting on you.” He strode to the stairs at the rear of the store and climbed to the loft where he kept extra merchandise. Dust motes sifted down between the planks as he moved about overhead.
Helena lifted her chin. Managing a mercantile hadn’t been in her plans when she boarded the train in Illinois. She prayed this wasn’t another test.
With Mr. Wolford’s permission, Helena used her dinnertime to walk to the post office. “One block east,” he’d said. “In a white clapboard house across from the church. Walk on in—there’s no sign out front.”
While she waited for a break in the flow of horses and wagons before crossing the wide thoroughfare in front of the mercantile, she smiled at the idea of a post office located in someone’s house. In Waters Grove, the postal service had a proper building with a sign next to the door. Everything here appeared to have been constructed in haste as settlers flocked in to homestead land. Spalding represented the change she’d hoped for. What she hadn’t expected was having to leave.
After hurrying across the road, she circled to the next block. Her heart sank at the sight of three white clapboard houses across the street from the church. Which door to enter?
She squared her shoulders and considered the house directly facing the church. If this were the wrong one, she’d already have narrowed her choices by a third. She marched up the walkway, climbed the porch steps, and opened the door. The hinges emitted a protesting squeak. Instead of entering a parlor or a sitting room, a bulky rolltop desk, occupying most of the opposite wall, met her eyes. The space smelled of paper and dust. A tall counter stood beneath a window on the east side. Two inkwells, pens, and paper rested on top.
She startled when a pocket door next to the desk slid back and a tall blond man stepped through the opening.
“Mail hasn’t come through yet this week. Try again Wednesday.”
“I was hoping to purchase writing materials from you. I need to send two letters.” She pointed to the stacked paper on the table. “This is the post office, isn’t it?”
“You must be new here.” His hazel eyes shone from his tanned face. “I’m Cliff Kendrick. Welcome to Spalding’s post office.”
She relaxed at the warmth in his voice. “Thank you. I’m Helena Erickson.”
“I hope there’s a ‘miss’ in front of your name.”
“Why would you ask such a question?” Her voice cooled several degrees.
“Beg your pardon. Unmarried ladies are rare in these parts.”
The room seemed to shrink. This might be a post office, but it was also a private home and she was alone with a man who towered over her. She sidled toward the writing table. “Would you please excuse me while I dash off two brief letters? My employer will come looking for me if I don’t return soon.”
His face reddened. “Certainly. I’ll post them for you as soon as the mail wagon arrives.” He retreated to a space next to the desk and stared at his boots.
Her pen scratched over the paper as she composed brief inquiries to rooming houses in Spokane Falls. She addressed the envelopes and handed them to Mr. Kendrick.
After tearing two stamps from a sheet on the desktop, he licked the backs then pasted them on the envelopes. “Four cents for the stamps, and four cents for the writing materials. Please.” He spoke in clipped tones.
“Thank you.” Helena placed the coins in his open palm. “Do you know how long it takes for mail delivery between here and Spokane Falls?”
“Mail service is tri-weekly.” His warm grin returned. “If it doesn’t come through one week, they try again the next.”
Despite her efforts to remain aloof, a giggle bubbled up. “I’ll remember that. Thank you.” She turned toward the entrance.
He stepped around her and held the door open. “Pleasure meeting you. Who did you say your employer was?”
“Mr. Wol—” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t say. Good day, Mr. Kendrick.”
Daniel hefted split pine rails into the back of his farm wagon. He wiped sweat from his forehead, grateful for the shade of the forested canyon. With this load he’d have enough material to build a long-overdue fence next to his barn. A breeze sighed through the long needles on the ponderosas, trailing a resin scent in its wake.
He flopped down on the soft ground to catch his breath before driving the wagon the eight miles to his homestead. This task had been easier with Ross’s help.
Everything had been easier.
Hunger rumbled his stomach. If he had a wife, she would have packed a picnic basket and come with him. Maybe there’d be a blackberry cake in the basket. He closed his eyes, imagining Miss Erickson’s moonlight-colored hair falling around her shoulders as she served his food. His eyes flew open. Stop dreaming, McNabb. She can’t wait to get away from you.
Nevertheless, on the return trip to his cabin his thoughts jumped to winning her heart. Nothing overt. He didn’t want to chase her off—again. Her resourceful character and serene beauty had proved over and over that he’d made a fatal mistake by failing to listen to her explanation when she arrived. Now that he wanted her as his bride he had no idea where to start.
He fell into bed that night, exhausted. The rails were stacked, he’d cleared the ground where the fence would be built, but instead of planning tomorrow’s workday, he decided to visit the mercantile as soon as it opened in the morning.
At first light, he heated water for a bath. No reason he couldn’t bathe on a Tuesday instead of Saturday. Wood chips floated on the water as he scrubbed yesterday’s toil from his hair.
He dressed in clean clothes, stepped into polished boots, and strode out to saddle Ranger. His wheat crop glowed green in the clear morning air. He nodded with satisfaction at the maturing plants, already heading and ready for pollination. Another five or six weeks and he could begin the harvest. In the meantime, he’d do all he could to win Helena’s heart.
Daniel whistled as he rode to town. Such a fine day for new beginnings. The door to the mercantile stood open when he tied Ranger to the hitching rail. He bounded onto the board sidewalk and strode into the building, stopping short when he saw Miss Erickson in conversation with a tall man who had his back to the entrance. A smile lit her face.
Daniel cleared his throat, but she didn’t seem to notice him. Instead, she poured coffee beans into the mill.
“You said a pound?” She lifted her gaze to the man’s face.
“Yes, please, Miss Erickson.”
Was it his imagination, or did her customer stress the
word ‘miss’? A high-pitched sound rose from the grinder as she cranked the handle, drowning out further conversation. Daniel stepped to the counter while she scooped fragrant coffee into a paper bag. He narrowed his eyes when he recognized Cliff Kendrick, the postmaster, one of Spalding’s many bachelors.
“McNabb, isn’t it? No mail for you lately. Hope that saves you a trip.”
“Appreciate that.” He didn’t need Kendrick to tell him he had no mail. The only letters he’d received over the past months were from Felicia Trimble—or rather, Miss Erickson’s brother. A fresh wave of discouragement rocked him. If only they’d met some other way, he’d be courting her by now.
After Helena gave the postmaster his purchase, he placed his free hand on the counter. “May I see you home this evening?” He glanced at Mr. McNabb and lowered his voice. “Tell me what time you leave and I’ll be here.”
Her face warmed. Mr. Kendrick was practically a stranger. One visit to the post office didn’t make them friends. Too much could happen on the lonely stretch of road from town to the Hallidays’ cabin. “No, thank you.”
“Then how about letting me escort you to the Fourth of July celebration this Friday?”
“Thank you, but, no.”
“Why not?”
“We don’t know each other at all.”
“Spending time together is how we’ll get acquainted.”
Mr. McNabb folded his arms across his broad chest. “She said no. Maybe you’d better head back to the post office.” He spoke in a low growl.
“Maybe you’d better tend to your own business.”
“Gentlemen, please.” She frowned at both of them. “If you’re going to argue, do it elsewhere.”
The postmaster tipped his hat. “I’ll come back when you’re not busy.” With a glare in Mr. McNabb’s direction, he stomped out the door.
As soon as he left, she jammed her hands on her hips. “You didn’t need to do that. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.” Inside, she felt a tiny thrill that he cared enough to defend her.
