A Mistaken Match

by Whitney Bailey

  “Who’s hurt?”

  “It’s Hal Schneider. We could smell the liquor before we saw the body. Don’t know rightly what happened, but his wagon flipped right off Mud Pike and into my field. If Delmar hadn’t been coming over to borrow my old saddle, who knows when he’d have been found.”

  Ann was at James’s side in an instant. Her fingers gripped his arm and squeezed so tightly he winced.

  “The children. Were the children with him?” Her eyes were wide and terrified.

  “No, miss. Thank the good Lord. No one’s checked on them though...”

  Before Hal could finish, Ann had dashed off the porch and through the field toward the Schneiders’.

  Jed turned his horse around and headed back to the accident. James saddled Old Harriet and followed close behind. Old Harriet could no longer manage a gallop, and the ride gave James time to dread what he would find. He’d never performed more than minor procedures, and always with the close guidance of a physician.

  Please, Lord, give me wisdom. Please guide my hand.

  By the time he reached the wagon, all of the nearest neighbors had received word and gathered around. James dismounted his horse and handed the reins to one of Jed’s many children. The crowd parted as James approached.

  His stomach clenched as he took in the scene. Hal’s horse had already been put out of its misery. A body lay prone some thirty feet away. A half dozen men and women crouched around it.

  “Is he breathing?” James asked. The shake in his voice was obvious but no one appeared to take notice.

  Jed’s wife, Gertrude, turned and shook her graying head. “We’re not sure. The wagon was on top of him when Jed and Delmar found him. When some of the other men arrived, they pulled him out before we could stop them.”

  James drew a deep breath and knelt beside Hal. His neighbor’s waxy pallor could only mean one thing, though he hoped he was wrong. James moved his hands over Hal’s wrist and neck to make sure, probing and praying as he examined the stricken man. After several minutes he sat back on his haunches and exhaled. He couldn’t find a pulse.

  Jed Zwebel crouched down beside him and kept his voice low. “Hal’s dead, isn’t he?”

  During his examination the men in the crowd had turned their attention to righting the wagon, but their wives stood only a few feet away, murmuring and praying among themselves. James nodded slightly, so as not to alarm them. He stood and addressed those nearest him. “Alright, folks, if you could give Hal some room. We don’t want anything hindering the doctor when he gets here.”

  His words sent the assemblage scattering. Gertrude Zwebel announced she was serving coffee in her kitchen, and the crowd was welcome to sit a spell. James could guess why when everyone politely declined and turned toward home, their heads hanging low. No one was fooled by his playacting.

  Doc Henderson arrived a short while later. “I wish I could have done something more for the man” was all he said as he looked over the body.

  “We all do,” James replied.

  The doctor stood and shook his balding head. “But we can only help those who are willing to accept our help. A man can change, but you can’t make him want to change.”

  Jed and James transferred the body to the doctor’s wagon and the doctor set off back to town. Jed ran to fetch Old Harriet, and for a moment James was alone in the field. The sun had set since he arrived and he dropped exhausted onto the ground among the summer wheat and buried his head in his hands. Never had he experienced a more exhausting day in his life. Not even when his parents died had he experienced such emotional turmoil. It was as if he’d climbed a mountain only to stumble off a cliff. Hours ago he’d been full of hope. Now his heart seized with despair.

  He retrieved his pocket watch and squinted at its face. Not even an hour had passed since Jed had first arrived at his farm.

  A frantic voice pierced the quiet. The new moon meant the earth was cast in shadow, and he strained to see in the inky dark. The voice grew closer, and he recognized the lilt long before he saw its owner. He stood just in time for Ann to stumble headlong into his chest.

  “Oh, James! Is he alright? Is Hal...alright?”

  She was clearly out of breath and paused often to draw great lungfuls of air. Despite the dark he could see Ann’s golden hair had fallen from its tidy bun and spilled over her shoulders.

  “He was crushed when the wagon overturned. He’s gone.”

  Ann gasped and pressed against him. He gripped her tightly in his arms. The tragedy with Hal had given him no time to even think of Ann’s confession. As he held her, all the events of the evening rushed back to him, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. He could only concentrate on one thing at a time.

  “Did you find the children? Are they safe?”

  “Yes. They were both at home, already asleep in their beds. I had to climb through an open window to check on them. They’re at your house with Uncle Mac.”

  “And you ran all the way here? In the dark?”

  Ann shivered in the chilled night air. “I couldn’t sit at home. I had to see if I could help.”

  “I’m afraid there was nothing anyone could do.”

  A bobbing lantern approached in the distance. James called out to guide Jed and Old Harriet to their spot in the pitch-black field.

  Jed looked surprised to find Ann there with James. “Did you find the children, Miss Cromwell?”

  Ann had stepped away from James’s arms as soon as they’d spotted the lantern. She nodded. “They said their father had sent them straight to bed after supper. They hadn’t even known he was gone. Where do you think he was headed?”

  Jed sighed. “I can only guess he wanted to visit the saloon in town. About the only place to buy liquor this time of night, though I guess we’ll never know for sure.”

  James sensed Ann shudder in the dark.

  “We should get home,” he said, and took the horse’s reins.

  Ann moved to follow him but stopped short. “Mr. Zwebel? Will you be heading into town soon?”

  “Tomorrow morning, as a matter of fact.”

  “If I meet you at your farm, will you give me a ride the rest of the way?”

  James’s heart quickened.

  “Certainly, though I’m leaving as soon as the cows are milked,” Jed said.

  “I’ll make certain I’m here long before,” Ann answered.

  The trio exchanged goodbyes, and Jed headed for home. James helped Ann mount Old Harriet and swung himself up in front of her.

  “Will you be able to hold on to me?”

  Ann wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed tight against his back. “I’m ashamed to admit I may have trouble staying awake.”

  James turned the horse toward home and let the reins go slack. The farm was straight down the road, but on a moonless night he trusted the horse’s sight better than his own.

  When they trotted into the barnyard, James turned to find Ann nodding off. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders to help her down, and she drew her own arms around his neck. He lifted her from the horse. She weighed no more than a feather.

  James carried her through the front door and set her in the foyer.

  “Both children are asleep in your bed,” she said. They were the first words she’d spoken since they’d left the field.

  He nodded. “I’ll tell the children about their father in the morning. Unless you think it would be better if you did.”

  She dipped her head. “I’ll be leaving at first light. I wouldn’t want to wake them.”

  “Will you be back in the evening?”

  Ann exhaled and shook her head.

  His heart screamed at him to say something. Anything. But her revelation was too fresh, and the many traumas of the evening had overwhelmed his senses. He couldn’t t
hink.

  “When will I see you again?”

  She looked up at him, but without a light he couldn’t make out her expression. Tentatively, he reached out and touched his fingertips to her cheeks. They came back wet with tears.

  “I don’t know if we’ll ever see one another again. I think this should be goodbye.”

  James opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her slim form disappeared up the dark stairs and he watched from the foyer, still grasping for what to say and coming back empty-handed.

  Chapter Twenty

  James turned Old Harriet onto the Zwebels’ lane almost without thinking. It had been a week since he’d seen George and Sadie, who were staying with the family until permanent arrangements could be made. More than a week since the worst night of his life.

  No. He pushed the memories down before they could grab hold and draw him back in. The anguish would be with him every waking moment if he let it. He already relived the pain countless times a day. How he could have done things differently. If he should have done things differently. If it was really too late.

  Sadie was off like a shot from the Zwebels’ front porch before the wagon came to a stop. He jumped down in time to catch her as she threw herself into his arms.

  “Why weren’t you at church on Sunday?” she scolded, wagging a tiny finger at him.

  “I was working at the mill until very late on Saturday. I attended church in town.”

  Her bottom lip pushed out and she dipped her chin. “We thought we’d see you there,” she said softly. She wrapped her slim arms around his neck and squeezed tight. “I missed you.”

  Guilt nipped at his heart. He hadn’t meant to stay away from the children so long, but he didn’t think they’d notice his absence. Not with loss of their father so fresh, and the large Zwebel clan always ready with comfort and distractions.

  Mrs. Zwebel emerged from the house with George in tow. The boy stood at her side until she nudged him gently. He trudged reluctantly forward with his arms slack at his sides, his eyes downcast. James carried Sadie and met the boy at the bottom of the porch steps.

  “How are you getting on, George?”

  The boy shrugged. “Alright.”

  Mrs. Zwebel gave James a half smile. “George has proved a great help around the farm. He does as much work as my Jesse and at only half the age.”

  A tiny flicker of pride stole over the boy’s face, but disappeared just as quickly. James grasped for something else to say to cheer or encourage George. He’d lost his own parents as an adult. He couldn’t fathom how that kind of loss affected a child. He’d already spoken with Jed Zwebel several times, and knew the children cried themselves to sleep, though a little less each night.

  Without warning, George stepped forward and wrapped his arms around James’s waist. “Are you here to take us home with you?”

  “Yes, please!” Sadie cheered and clapped her hands.

  James’s heart tore. He set Sadie down and knelt so he was eye level with both children. “No, I’m sorry. You’ll be staying with the Zwebels awhile longer. Until we find your relatives.”

  Sadie’s dark eyes teared and George set his jaw, though it didn’t stop his lips from trembling.

  “We don’t even know our relatives. We want to live with you,” the little boy pleaded.

  “Yes, with you and Ann!” Sadie chimed, her tiny arms around his neck again.

  James blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. Mercifully, Mrs. Zwebel joined the children and drew them into her skirts. He stood and took the opportunity to wipe his eyes under the guise of mopping the sweat from his brow.

  “Now, children,” Mrs. Zwebel said. “We’ve told you many times. You have uncles and aunties somewhere, and they love you very much.”

  “But we love James,” George stated simply. Sadie nodded vigorously.

  Mrs. Zwebel sighed and leaned in close. “It’s all they talk about,” she whispered. “Going to live with you.”

  James gave the children each one last hug, and promised to visit again. As Old Harriet pulled the wagon back down the lane toward Mud Pike, he stole one last glance. George and Sadie stood arm and arm, tears streaming down their cheeks.

  Please, Lord, provide them with the loving home they deserve.

  * * *

  Ann awoke and stretched, wincing as the blood flowed back into her cramped legs. Even with her petite stature, she was still a head too tall to be sleeping on the Ludlow’s worn velvet sofa. One or two nights would have been tolerable, but it had been more than two weeks, and the furniture tested the elasticity of her limbs.

  A knock rapped on the parlor door.

  “Come in,” Ann called, knowing full well it was Delia on the other side. None of the other Ludlows dared to even peek into the parlor where Ann made her bed each night until she indicated she was awake. They’d insisted she have the privacy of her own room, rather than sharing the largest bedroom with Delia and three of her sisters, which only added to her guilt over the arrangement.

  Despite her desire to flee New Haven as quickly as possible, Delia asserted it would be a mistake to leave for a strange new city in haste and the Ludlows insisted Ann stay with them as plans were put into place. Delia’s father wrote to a distant cousin in Indianapolis to arrange respectable lodging, and Ann spent a week writing up advertisements for her services as a maid, to be telegraphed ahead to Indianapolis and placed in the paper.

  Delia poked her dark head through the doorway. “Today’s the day!” she crowed.

  Ann’s stomach turned. Indeed, today was the day. The last tenuous thread holding her to New Haven was about to be broken. It was the day of Priscilla’s final dress fitting, and the day she’d receive final payment. She’d never expected to remain in New Haven so long, especially after Mrs. Williams completed the dress early, but Priscilla had insisted Ann be at the final fitting and then postponed the appointment numerous times in favor of trips to Columbus to peruse china patterns for her new home.

  It didn’t matter. By the evening she’d have enough money to both repay James in full, purchase a train ticket to Indianapolis and support herself for several months in a new city, even if she couldn’t find a job as a maid. It was also the day she would have to return to James’s farm if she wanted to make her train the next morning. In her haste to secure a ride to town with Jed Zwebel, she’d completely forgotten she had no way of transporting her trunk from James’s farm to the Zwebels’. She’d made the mile trek with only her valise. Now she had to return to retrieve it.

  She pressed her fingers to her temples. A headache was building.

  Delia took a seat beside her. “If you change your mind, my brother can get your trunk by himself. You don’t have to go with him.”

  “No,” Ann answered firmly. “Frederick said James was due at the mill today, and I never said goodbye to Uncle Mac. If I don’t, I know I’ll always regret it.”

  The last thing I need is something else to add to my long list of regrets.

  “You are more likely to run into him in town than you are at his own home,” Delia agreed.

  Ann laughed grimly. Her friend was right. The youngest Ludlows delighted in sharing their sightings of James around New Haven, though they didn’t understand why their reports were of such importance. Outside the mill. Walking by the courthouse. Inside the library. The reports had died away the last few days, but she was still perpetually on edge. The Ludlow home sat a short distance from town, which meant Ann had confined her walks to their garden. Better to become a recluse than to risk seeing James, even from a distance. Her breath caught in her throat at the mere thought of catching a glimpse of his sandy head.

  She might have felt differently if she’d thought there was some hope they could part as friends, but the last weeks had shown her a friendly goodbye was not to be. Everyone
in town knew she was at the Ludlows, and James couldn’t have missed the gossip. If he had wanted to see her, he would have arrived by now.

  “What about George and Sadie? Will you visit them?” Delia asked.

  Ann’s middle tightened. “No, I don’t think I should. Not after what they’ve been through. They don’t need another person saying goodbye.”

  Ann stood and stretched her arms above her head. “I’m going to miss this sofa,” she admitted. Despite the discomfort, tonight would be the last time she would lay her head down surrounded by friends. The day after next, she would awaken in a new city of strangers. Delia hadn’t even met the cousin who’d agreed to take Ann into her home. Even Mr. Davis and his family, whom she barely knew, wouldn’t arrive for months.

  She turned to the still-seated Delia and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, finally able to give her tall friend a proper hug. “I’m going to miss you, too, Delia.”

  Delia squeezed her in return. “Tomorrow won’t be goodbye. I can visit.”

  “But I can’t visit you,” Ann said wistfully. Delia nodded in understanding. They’d had so many conversations about her parting with James over the past two weeks, there was nothing more to say. Delia knew Ann could never return to New Haven, for the same reasons she couldn’t bring herself to venture much beyond the Ludlows’ front gate.

  After breakfast, Delia and Ann went to Mrs. Williams’s shop. A storm cloud had sprouted above, casting an ominous shadow over the town square. Cyclones of dust scuttled along the plank sidewalks as men and women ran for cover. Ann alternated between keeping her head down to protect it from the wind and glancing up to scan the streets for signs of James, but the square was almost empty. Everyone had taken refuge from the imminent downpour.

  Priscilla Vollrath was waiting for them when they arrived, and she turned up her nose and huffed loudly to show them her displeasure at having to wait.

  “She arrived not thirty seconds before you,” Mrs. Williams whispered as they arranged a tea tray for Priscilla and her mother.