The Fire (Northwest Passage Book 4)

by John A. Heldt

  "No. I have nothing more for Asa. I was just going to say that if you need any help around the house while he's away, then please let me know. When we approached the property, I noticed that you carried what looked like a heavy box into your shed."

  "Oh, that," Celia said. "It was just a box of apples. I moved it into the shed because it's much cooler there than inside the house."

  "I see."

  "Now that you mention it, though, I might need some help on a few things."

  "You just let me know what and when and I'll be right over," Kevin said.

  "That's very kind of you. I may even summon you when Asa gets back. He can't do some of the things he used to do."

  "Why is that?"

  "I'm not certain. All I know is that he doesn't have much energy these days. He's frequently short of breath," Celia said. "I've urged him to see a doctor, but he always refuses. He keeps saying there's work to be done and money to be made. So I leave him alone."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. My offer stands, though. If you need help on anything, then you just let me know. I'll make the time to be here."

  "I appreciate that."

  "Well, we'd better go. It was nice seeing you again."

  "You take care now," Celia said. "You too, Miss Hawkins."

  "Thank you," Sadie said. "Goodbye."

  Kevin waved at Celia and rode Spirit away from the Johnson property. He rejoined the trail and guided the horse toward King Street and the Duvalier house.

  The time traveler wasn't quite sure what to make of everything he had heard, but he did know one thing. Time was running out on Asa. The heart attack that would eventually claim the life of the Johnson family patriarch was less than three months away.

  CHAPTER 45: SARAH

  Sunday, May 1, 1910

  Sarah watched Maude closely as the widow pulled a book with a red leather cover from a shelf in Marcus Duvalier's den. The book appeared to be part of a large set.

  "Do you like Mark Twain?" Maude asked.

  "I like everything he's written."

  "I thought so. Then you'll probably like this."

  Maude handed the English teacher a copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

  "It's beautiful," Sarah said, "but we have this book at the school."

  "I sincerely doubt that."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Open the book, dear."

  Sarah did as instructed. She lifted the cover and flipped through two blank pages. When she turned to the third page, she gasped and brought a hand to her mouth. She had discovered a handwritten message from a dead man.

  "Where on earth did you get this?"

  "I got it from Marcus, of course," Maude said. "He got it from a seller. He bought the entire Hillcrest edition four years ago on a business trip to Hartford. There are twenty-five volumes in all, including eight signed by the author."

  "They must be priceless."

  "They're not now, but they will be someday. I had the signed works appraised by a collector on Friday. He advised me to hold onto them."

  "I'm sure he did. I'm surprised Sadie didn't mention them when I was here last Sunday."

  "She didn't mention them because she hadn't seen them. I retrieved the books from a locked closet Monday night. I hadn't given them much thought until Mr. Twain passed. Now that I know their value, I'll probably put them back. For now, however, they are yours to peruse."

  "I'm grateful. Would you mind if I showed one of the signed volumes to my students?"

  "I wouldn't mind at all. Take what you wish."

  "Thank you. I think Tom Sawyer will prove to be more than sufficient."

  Maude glanced at a clock on the wall and turned to Sarah.

  "I must go downstairs to make a telephone call. Is there anything I can get you?"

  "No. I'm still full from that scrumptious dinner," Sarah said. "I would like to look around a little more up here, though, if that is all right."

  "It's more than all right. Please let me know if you need anything."

  "I will."

  Sarah smiled at Maude as she walked out of the den. She didn't know much about the wealthy, learned, somewhat mysterious woman, but she knew enough to form an opinion. She liked Maude Duvalier. She liked her a lot. She liked her style, her priorities, and the way she shared her resources with others. She hoped to visit more often.

  Sarah also liked Maude's boarders, albeit for markedly different reasons. She liked Andy O'Connell because he was polite, funny, driven, and open-minded. She liked Sadie Hawkins because she was bright, spirited, and gracious and possessed a girlish charm that turned even would-be rivals to butter.

  As for Kevin Johnson, well, she just liked him. When Sarah thought about the man she had come to know as a colleague and a beau, she found it hard to breathe. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man and then some. He was intelligent, patient, kind, and unsparingly generous with his time and his money. He was also loving and affectionate, the kind of man who would surely make a wonderful husband and father.

  Sarah examined a few more books in the amazing library and then rejoined the others. When she reached the main floor, she found Maude, Andy, Kevin and Sadie where she had expected to find them. She found Maude speaking into a candlestick telephone at the base of the stairs, Andy snoozing up a storm in a lounge chair, and Kevin and Sadie crowded around a small table, where they matched wits in a game of chess.

  Sarah walked up to the table and leaned over Kevin's shoulder. She knew enough about the game to know that he was in serious trouble.

  "There's probably not much I can do to help, is there?"

  "No," Kevin said with a chuckle. "It's pretty hopeless."

  Sarah looked at Sadie.

  "Do you always beat him this badly?"

  Sadie grinned and nodded.

  "How long do your games usually last?"

  "It depends," Sadie said. "Sometimes I allow him to take a ten-minute break. He likes to step outside and clear his head. Those games can last as long as thirty minutes."

  Kevin smiled.

  "Surely he's getting better."

  "He is," Sadie said matter-of-factly as she claimed Kevin's queen. "He's getting much better. I'm teaching him moves as we go along. I imagine in a month or so he'll be able to last an hour, even with a timer."

  Sarah laughed to herself and shook her head. She wondered if Sadie, in her quest to acquire the world's knowledge, had stumbled upon the French term double entendre. Kevin certainly had. He had turned red the second the words had come out.

  Sarah didn't resent Kevin's friendship with Sadie. Indeed, she admired it. She regularly took issue with people who insisted that attractive single men could not be mere friends with attractive single women. Biology, they argued, always trumped the noblest of intentions.

  That didn't mean she was comfortable with Kevin sharing a house, indeed a hallway, with a woman who clearly wanted him for herself. When she saw Sadie take another chess piece and gaze at Kevin with wistful eyes, she decided to throw down a marker.

  Sarah placed a hand on Kevin's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. When she looked at Sadie, she saw a chess player who suddenly seemed more interested in a spectator's show of support than in her opponent's next move. She saw a woman who answered a confident smile with furrowed brows and something that resembled a scowl.

  Sarah began to ask Kevin if he wanted anything from the kitchen but stopped when she heard someone approach from behind. She turned and saw Maude step forward with a large plate in her hands.

  "Would anyone care for some shortbread?" Maude asked.

  "No, thank you," Sadie said.

  Kevin glanced at Maude and nodded.

  "I'd love some."

  He grabbed a square from the plate and returned to the game.

  "Are you ever going to let him win?" Maude asked.

  "I might," Sadie said. "Perhaps I'll let him win on his birthday, whenever that is."

  "It's May 14," Sarah said triumphantly.

&
nbsp; Sarah looked at Sadie and saw that she had landed a nasty blow. Sadie frowned and returned to the game.

  The teacher then glanced at Maude and saw that she had overstepped. Maude stared at Sarah and subtly shook her head.

  "Sarah, would you like to see the sunroom?" Maude asked as she placed the shortbread on a nearby table. "I'd love to show you my African violets while these two finish their game."

  Sarah blushed and nodded. She didn't need a stronger hint.

  "I'd like that, Maude. Lead the way."

  Sarah glanced at the chess players as she left the room. Kevin gave her a finger wave and a knowing smile. Sadie gave her another frown and lowered her eyes.

  Sarah followed Maude through the house to an extension that was walled with windows and filled with potted plants of every imaginable kind. She didn't know how well the ferns and flowers did outside the sunroom, but she did know how well they did inside. They flourished. She walked to the far side of the room and began to inspect the aforementioned African violets when Maude shifted her attention from plants to people.

  "Do you know why I like this room?" Maude asked.

  "I suppose it's because you like plants."

  "That's one reason, of course," Maude said with a laugh. "The other is because I like people. The plants in this room remind me of the people in this house and in this town. They remind me of just about everyone I've ever known."

  "How is that?"

  "Well, let's take this one, for example."

  Maude walked to a corner of the room, where the flowers ended and the greenery began. She lifted a small herb-like plant with compound leaves and stalked pink flower heads.

  "This is a Mimosa pudica, also known as a touch-me-not. It is a hearty plant with a prickly stem. Even though it is native to the tropics, it looks like something that could survive an Idaho winter. Appearances, however, can be deceiving."

  Maude lightly touched the end of one of the four leaves, triggering a response where dozens of leaflets folded inward and drooped in domino fashion. Within seconds, the compound leaf was a compact shell of its former self.

  "As you can see, the touch-me-not withdraws into itself with the slightest offense. It is much like the young woman in my living room. Sadie is a Mimosa pudica."

  Sarah looked away.

  I thought she was a comet.

  "Other plants remind me of certain men," Maude said as she walked to another shelf. "Take this Venus flytrap. It reminds me of my husband. The flytrap is a carnivorous plant that preys on living things. If you touch it the wrong way, it doesn't withdraw into itself. It gobbles you up."

  Sarah laughed to herself. She couldn't remember a botany lesson like this at Indiana State.

  "What about this over here?" Sarah asked.

  "You mean the cactus? Oh, that's Andrew," Maude said. "It's tough, prickly, and sometimes not so pretty – particularly in the morning – but like all plants, it needs love and attention."

  Sarah smiled and looked at Maude with admiration. She really liked this woman.

  "What about Kevin? Can he be found here?"

  "You tell me."

  Sarah studied Maude's face and looked for clues but found nothing more than a soft stare. She would have to complete this homework assignment alone.

  She scanned the sunroom that was really a greenhouse and walked to a Douglas fir sapling that Maude had placed on a long table. The tree appeared to be no more than a few weeks old.

  "This sapling is Kevin," Sarah said. "It's young and vulnerable and susceptible to all sorts of outside influences, but it's getting accustomed to its environment and getting stronger by the day. Left in the right hands, it will thrive and become a giant among its peers."

  Maude smiled warmly and stepped toward Sarah. She put a hand on the younger woman's shoulder and looked at her like a mother advising a daughter.

  "Well done, dear. It seems you've figured out the point of this lesson," she said. "People, like plants, must be handled differently and sometimes delicately. That is particularly true with Sadie. She may seem like a formidable adversary, but she's not. She's a girl, a sensitive, impressionable girl who has spent her entire life in this valley. Let her have her fun. She may have Kevin's friendship and interest, but you have his heart. That's really what matters, if you are thinking about the future. You have his heart. Don't lose it."

  "I won't," Sarah said with a sigh. "I won't."

  CHAPTER 46: KEVIN

  Saturday, May 7, 1910

  Kevin shut down the second the blade touched his throat. He knew the best thing to do in situations like this was to remain perfectly still and let matters run their course, but part of him wanted to try to get away and strangle Andy for leading him here.

  "Would you like to keep your sideburns?" the barber asked.

  "No. You can get rid of them," Kevin said. "Just, um, be careful."

  Andy laughed from the next chair.

  "Be gentle, Bill. This is his first time."

  Several men in the room laughed.

  Kevin wished a plague on all their houses until he realized that they had a right to laugh. They came here for machete shaves almost every day and thought nothing of it. Then again, none had seen Scream, Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, or even Psycho. Kevin had seen the latter five times, though mostly because he liked Janet Leigh.

  Kevin found it difficult to survey his surroundings with a straight razor on his jugular, but he could see enough of Bill's Barbershop to see why it was the most popular of ten in town. With four leather-upholstered-and-nickel-plated barber chairs, marble washbasins, portable electric scissors, and a seemingly limitless supply of hot water, the place was state of the art in 1910.

  It reminded Kevin of a barbershop that his maternal grandfather, Fred Preston, had owned and operated in Unionville until his death at age 75 in 2004. Kevin had fond memories of that place, just as he had fond memories of the grandpa who had never once held a razor to his throat.

  Even Fred Preston's business, however, could not compare to Bill's. The Wallace outfit was more than just a barbershop. It was a place dedicated to hygiene. In twenty minutes, Kevin had seen several men, mostly miners, walk through the front door, pay the cashier fifty cents, and proceed to a back room, where a hot bath, a towel, and a bar of soap awaited.

  For two bits more, the same men could walk a few doors down and have their laundry done. Several laundries catered to those who did not have ready access to washing facilities or even running water. They sought the business of men who toiled in the bowels of the earth and looked forward to the day they could shed their grimy rags, wash off a week's worth of sweat, and enjoy a sliver of the good life on a Saturday night.

  Kevin thought about these men as the barber transitioned from Freddy Krueger to Edward Scissorhands and went to work on his mane. He was lucky. He had a cushy white-collar position, a decent wardrobe, and his run of a wealthy widow's mansion. They had backbreaking jobs, the shirts on their backs, and lumpy mattresses in boarding houses.

  Fifteen minutes later, Kevin paid Freddy, or Bill, as he was known to his customers, a dollar and walked through a bell-rigged door into the afternoon sun. He saw Andy sitting on a bench out front smoking a cigar.

  "Take a seat," Andy said. "I'd like to talk a bit."

  Kevin found the unoccupied end of the oak-and-iron bench, which faced outward toward the street, and sat. He extended an arm across the top of the bench and stared at the other side of Sixth, where men unloaded beer and produce from two wagons and more than a dozen pedestrians, mostly women, darted in and out of shops.

  "Is something going on today?" Kevin asked. "I've never seen the town this busy, at least not on a Saturday."

  "It's spring," Andy said. "People come alive when the sun comes out."

  Andy pulled a cigar from a pocket and held it in front of Kevin.

  "Take this. I bought it for you."

  Kevin took the cigar and placed it in front of his nose.

  "This smells exotic
. Where did you get it? Cuba?"

  "I got it at the cigar store on Cedar," Andy said. "The tobacco is imported but the smokes are local. They still roll their own, which is nice. You can taste the difference."

  "Thanks. I'll save it for later."

  Andy blew a few rings into the humid air and stared blankly into space.

  "So what is the brave and noble Kevin Johnson doing this evening?"

  "I'm paying a visit to the Marshall residence. The colonel and I are refighting the Indian wars at seven. Sarah has promised to bake a pie for each side."

  "She's a true diplomat."

  "What about you?" Kevin asked. "Do you have a big date tonight?"

  "That depends on what you mean by 'date.'"

  "Let me try again. Are you spending the evening with a beautiful woman?"

  "I am," Andy said.

  "Do I know this woman?"

  "You do. You know her very well."

  Kevin leaned forward.

  "Are you seeing Sadie?"

  "Tonight I am."

  Kevin cocked his head and raised a brow.

  "Is that so?"

  Andy took a puff.

  "It's not what you think, my friend. She's teaching me how to play chess."

  Kevin laughed.

  "OK. Now, I have heard everything. What brought this about?"

  "It's simple," Andy said. "Sadie has inspired me to take on new challenges and become a more educated man. I figure if she can learn the dimensions of British warships, then I can learn how to play chess."

  "I'm impressed," Kevin said with a smile. "That says a lot about you. If I didn't know better, though, I'd suspect you were trying to win her over."

  Andy chuckled.

  "In any other situation, I would be. Sadie is as fair as they come, but she's also someone who lives in my house. She's become like a sister to me. Not that it matters. She has only one man on her mind – and he isn't Andy O'Connell."

  Kevin frowned. He had told Sadie several times that week to forget him and move on. He had encouraged her to attend social events and look around. It was clear now that his words had fallen on deaf ears.

  "I feared as much. I wish she'd consider others. She's wasting her time on me."