His horse nudged him on the shoulder, trying to get his attention.
“You miss me talking to you, don’t you?” He stroked the animal’s glossy neck. “How would you like to share your home? I want to get a carriage. I won’t ask you to pull it, my friend. There’s plenty of room for another horse or two.”
He finished grooming his stallion and gave him a scoop of oats. “Now that you’ve got your supper, I’m going in to enjoy the feast the women left in the kitchen for me. There’s enough on the table and in the icebox to keep me from starving tonight and tomorrow.”
When he arrived upstairs at the master bedroom, he dropped his saddlebags on top of the bureau. He’d unload them later. There were several boxes marked personal items sitting along one wall. Frank couldn’t imagine what was in those boxes, but he would find out when he unpacked them. He decided to wait until after church tomorrow to do that. It had been a long day, and he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was try out the bathtub in the bathroom down the hall. A soak in hot water should help relieve the aches from all the activities his body wasn’t used to. If he could talk to Mr. Nichols, he would thank him for installing one of those water heaters. Frank had loaded it with wood and lit it before he went to the hotel for his belongings.
He almost fell asleep in the tub, but when the water cooled, it brought him back to full awareness of his surroundings. After a late supper, he went right to bed. He didn’t want to be late for the church service the next day.
Once again, this week’s sermon made Frank think. Joseph Harrelson was a man of God, but he spoke to the lives of ordinary men—like a lawman who had drifted too long. He helped Frank understand that he needed an anchor, but Frank still didn’t know how to find that anchor. He wished he had a Bible, so he could reread the verses the preacher shared with them. He wanted to mull over the words. Maybe on Monday he’d go to Braxton’s Mercantile and see if they had any Bibles for sale.
After having lunch with August and Anna, Frank returned to his house, once again reveling in the joy of owning a home. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that he didn’t have anyone to share his feelings with. A man needed a wife in more ways than one. Hard on the heels of that thought came the picture of Gerda as she helped arrange his house. She’d worn a scarf over her hair and tied it behind her neck. Tendrils crept out from under the covering, and she often blew them away from her face. Frank would like to see her in this house every day. Oh yes, she was just the woman this house needed. Although she had helped all day yesterday, she concentrated on the house and what needed to be done, instead of paying him any attention.
Frank took off his Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and slid into denim trousers and a well-worn plaid shirt. Today, he wasn’t going to put on the star. He had a deputy who could take care of things this weekend. Once again, Frank’s attention was drawn to the boxes by the wall in his bedroom. He might as well open them now.
When he took the lid off the first box, tears pooled in his eyes. There, carefully packed, were various sheets and pillowcases that his mother had lovingly decorated with colorful, embroidered flowers. When he was a lad, he had watched her work by the light of a kerosene lamp while rocking in her favorite chair. The warmth of those memories fueled the tears, and they poured down his cheeks unchecked. He placed the lid back on the box. He would probably use the linens, but he wasn’t ready to unpack them yet. Here he was, a lawman who could face down the hardest criminal, blubbering over a few pieces of cloth. It was a good thing no one was watching.
The second box opened to reveal various items carefully wrapped in newspaper. He unwrapped one. It was a tiny shepherd girl made out of china. He remembered it sitting on a table by his mother’s rocker. She often looked at it fondly. She said it was a touch of beauty in her life. Other beloved knickknacks of his mother’s were also tucked into this box. He decided to store them in one of the bedrooms until he knew what he wanted to do with them. Later he might put a few of them on display in the parlor. They were fond reminders of his mother, and women seemed to like that sort of thing. Similar items were scattered about the parlors of the friends he had made here in Litchfield. Gerda and Anna had several of this style of knickknack on display in the Dress Emporium.
The last box he opened contained his mother’s books. She had always been a woman who loved to read. Some of the books, she had read to him. Adventure stories and tales about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. He carried this box downstairs and started placing the books in the empty bookcase that had been set against a wall in the parlor. At the bottom of the box, Frank found his mother’s Bible.
This was an answer to a prayer he hadn’t even uttered. He had a Bible of his own. Frank thought for a minute until he called to mind the scripture reference Pastor Harrelson used this morning. Then he tried to find it. As he turned through the worn pages, there were many places where his mother had written notes in the margins, and all the family history was recorded on the parchment pages in the center of the book. Frank went to the rocking chair near the window—the one his mother had often sat in. He cradled the large book in his arms as he turned through each section. He knew he held a real treasure in his hands. His mother had been a godly woman. She knew what this book contained, and he vowed that he would, too—soon. Frank sat in the chair and read the verses from the morning sermon. Then he moved into other areas of the book. Before he realized it, the whole afternoon had passed, and the light was becoming too dim to read by.
❧
After spending Saturday at Frank’s, Gerda’s attraction to the man had multiplied. She pictured him in the house that was furnished much the way she would have done it. Thoughts of her and Frank sharing the home as man and wife tormented her. No matter how hard she tried to banish them, they crept back into her mind. Oh, Father God, what am I going to do? Please help me get over my attraction to this man.
Gerda again wished God would answer her audibly. She didn’t care if it was thunder from heaven or just a whisper. She just wanted God to tell her what to do. But her apartment was silent, and in the recesses of her mind where she often heard from God, silence also reigned.
On Monday, Gerda opened the store bright and early. She hoped that working on some of the orders for new clothes that were stacked up in the back room would give her something besides Frank Daggett to think about. She chose three different dresses she wanted to start working on today. She cut the dress lengths from the bolts of fabric the customers had chosen. Then she returned the rest of each bolt to the shelves behind the counter in the front of the store.
Gerda had just placed the last of the bolts on a shelf high above her head when she heard the bell above the door jingle. She turned to greet the customer but stopped in mid-stride. It wasn’t a woman looking for something to wear who walked across the floor toward her. As if the thoughts she had been wrestling with had called him to come, the sheriff was striding toward her, his Stetson in hand, his boots beating a rhythm against the polished wooden floor. With each step, her heartbeat thudded just as loudly. The man looked too good in his black twill trousers and starched gray cotton shirt with the silver star shining on his chest. He had removed his hat, and dark curls tumbled across his brow framing his clear blue eyes. Even his mustache looked as if it had recently been trimmed.
“Well, do I pass inspection?” When Frank spoke, his voice tilted along with his upraised eyebrow.
Gerda gulped, and she felt a blush make its way to her cheeks. I shouldn’t have been staring at him. She turned away and started rearranging the bolts that weren’t in disarray. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” She kept her head turned far enough that she could see what he was doing, even though her back was to him.
Frank set his Stetson down and leaned on the counter with both hands. “I thought I might be able to do something for you, Gerda.”
She liked the way her name sounded coming from him. He always softened his rich, baritone voice when he spoke to her. Slowly, she turned and g
lanced up at him.
“I don’t need any help, Frank.”
His mesmerizing eyes held a twinkle. “I’m just making my rounds, checking on things. I’m glad everything’s all right with you.”
Gerda smiled. “Thank you.”
“And I want to thank you for all the help you gave me on Saturday.” The intensity of his gaze continued to hold her captive. “Without your suggestions, I probably would have lined the furniture up along the walls in each room. My house looks like a home thanks to you. . .and Anna.”
Gerda thought the room had gradually gotten very warm. The intensity of the connection she felt to this man was almost tangible. God, where are You now?
Frank straightened. He picked up his hat from the counter and held it in front of his waist. “I’ll be moseying on down the street. You be sure to get in touch with me if you need me for anything.”
Gerda couldn’t answer him. She just stood still and watched him walk out the door. When it latched behind him, she leaned back against the shelf behind her and took a deep breath. There seemed to be more air in the room now, and it felt cooler.
She went back into the workroom and sat in the chair by the window. She thought about every second that had transpired in the other room. Then she tried to shut Frank Daggett out of her thoughts, but it didn’t work. Maybe praying would help.
“Father God, I don’t like what’s happening to me. I want to be a wife and mother just as all my friends are. But I can’t do that without a husband. Please, Lord, bring me a man to love. Surely You have one for me, and he won’t be a man who doesn’t profess to believe in You.” She sat quietly for a few moments, then whispered, “Amen.”
That evening when Gerda finished working, she returned to her apartment. She roamed the rooms restlessly and finally sat down and picked up her Bible. She reread the verses Pastor Joseph used yesterday. Once again, she agreed with what the pastor said. She was thankful God had provided such a strong man of God to share His Word with the congregation.
Gerda knew her problem was that she was alone. Everyone she knew had someone. Even former Sheriff Bartlett and Mrs. Jenson were getting married. She wanted a husband and family, and she didn’t want to wait very long before she had them.
She leafed through the pages of her Bible. When her hands stilled, the book was open at First Corinthians. She began reading the words, trying to find some comfort. One verse almost leaped off the page at her.
She reread the words from chapter 10, verse 13.
There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Lord.” Gerda spoke the words aloud. “I want to escape from the temptation of Frank Daggett. Father, he’s not a believer, but he is such a temptation to me. Please give me a way to escape that temptation.”
❧
Two days later, when Anna and Gerda were working together, Olina came to see them. The women had been chatting a few minutes when she said, “I have an idea. Why don’t we give Frank a housewarming?”
“That would be wonderful!” Anna took the skirt she had been hemming and placed it on a worktable, then turned to look at her friends. “There are some things he still needs in his house.”
Gerda wasn’t sure it was such a good idea. It would mean spending more time with the man, and she was just now getting her emotions under control after his visit to the store on Monday.
Anna gestured toward her. “Don’t you agree, Gerda?”
How could she not agree? If she didn’t, they would both think she was awful. “It wouldn’t hurt.”
Anna looked at her as if she were crazy. “What a funny way to put it!”
Olina sat on one of the extra chairs. “I’m sure almost everyone will come to honor Frank. He’s done so much for the town, and it’ll be a way for people to show their appreciation.”
Gerda thought that hiring him as sheriff had been a good way to show their appreciation, but she didn’t say so.
“When should we have it?” Anna had picked up the tablet they kept in the workroom. She poised a pencil over it. “Do we want it to be a surprise to him, or should we tell him?”
“You know how men are.” Olina laughed. “We’d better warn him, so his house won’t be in disarray.”
“Maybe we should ask him first.” Gerda looked from one of her friends to the other. “He might not like it.”
“What’s not to like?” Anna asked. “But I think you’re right. We should ask him what date he wants to do it, but we won’t give him the option of not having one.”
❧
Frank hadn’t imagined anyone doing anything so wonderful for him. He thought they had assisted him more than enough when they’d helped him get his house ready and then move his furniture in. He’d almost told the women he didn’t think this housewarming was necessary, but he was glad he hadn’t. Gerda had been involved with it from the beginning, and now she was in his kitchen, looking as if she belonged there. Gerda, Anna, Olina, and the twins who had married Anna’s brothers had cooked enough goodies to feed an army, and it was a good thing, because people had been coming by all afternoon.
Not only did they welcome him and share the refreshments, they all brought gifts. Frank was beginning to wonder what he was going to do with all the things they gave him. Some of the women had made lacy doilies to put on his furniture. Others brought things they had canned. He was glad to get all the jams and jellies. He really liked that stuff on his biscuits in the mornings. Many kinds of staples filled his pantry and overflowed onto the cabinets.
Frank wasn’t sure why he needed all this food. He hadn’t planned on doing a lot of cooking. He’d never really learned how to cook many things. He knew how to boil a pot of beans and fry a pan of corn bread. He could do a good breakfast—bacon or ham and eggs with biscuits. Or he could cook up a pan of mush, but for most of his other meals, he always went out. Maybe he would have to ask some of the women to teach him how to cook other things.
A couple of farmers had even brought hay and feed for his horse. He wouldn’t have to buy anything for quite awhile. August helped him stack the hay bales and sacks of feed in the stable.
“Thank you for all your help.” Frank leaned his elbow on the top rail of one of the stalls. “I can’t believe the bounty all you folks brought to me.”
“That’s how people around here are.” August moved toward the open doorway. “I’m going to take the wagon home and come back with the buggy to pick up Anna. The springs are better on the buggy.”
When the last of the visitors had left, Frank went to the kitchen. “Well, did they eat all the wonderful things you women fixed?”
Anna turned from the dishpan where her hands were busy with a dishrag in the sudsy water. “There are a few things left for you to eat.” She nodded toward two plates piled high with cookies and pieces of cake.
Frank smiled at her. “Why don’t you let me finish washing those dishes? You go sit down. You’ve been on your feet all day.” He glanced toward the woman who was drying the dishes Anna had finished washing.
Anna looked as if she might object, but she stopped when she saw the direction he was looking. She quickly rinsed off her hands and dried them on one of the towels that had been in a package earlier that afternoon. “I do feel like resting a little. I think I’ll try out that rocking chair until August gets here to pick me up.” She stepped through the door toward the parlor.
Frank plunged his hands into the warm water and turned his attention toward Gerda. She had kept her distance ever since the Monday morning he’d visited her in the dress shop. He wanted that to change. At first she kept her gaze glued to the plate she was drying.
“Are you trying to rub the flowers off that dish? I don’t think they are supposed to come off.” Frank chuckled at his own joke.
Gerda glanced towa
rd him. She looked as if she were trying not to laugh. “That was really corny, Frank.”
He rinsed another plate and handed it to her. When he did, their fingers brushed. For a moment, he thought she was going to drop the slick china. He grabbed for it, and his hands covered hers as they cradled the dish. She looked up at him, and the strong connection that sometimes came between them sizzled in the air. Frank could feel it, and the blue of her eyes darkened with intensity that held him captive. She gasped, and he felt her grip on the dish tighten, but she didn’t look away.
They were standing so close he could see the golden tips at the end of her dark eyelashes. Wisps of blond curls around her face gave her a soft, vulnerable look. Frank wanted to pull her into his arms and place a kiss on the lips that were slightly open in surprise. Her gentle perfume filled his nostrils, and his heart longed for what he didn’t have. Frank knew they were in dangerous territory, and he didn’t want to frighten her, so he stepped back and released his hold on her hands. She took a deep breath and rubbed the moisture from the plate.
Frank started washing the other dishes. “It’s been a wonderful afternoon, hasn’t it?”
He sensed Gerda finally relaxing. He had done the right thing in stepping back, but it was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Never in his life had he wanted a woman more than he wanted this one. He remembered what he thought the first time he saw her. That she had strings hanging off her so long that they would really hog-tie a man. Well, he was a man who wanted to be hog-tied now, and he didn’t think she was ready to hear that.
Twelve
The rest of that week, Frank was eager to get home after work each day. He kept his mother’s Bible on the table in the kitchen and read while he ate dinner. He couldn’t get enough of it. He hadn’t realized that the book contained so many interesting stories. When he read the words Jesus spoke in the New Testament, they tugged on his heart. If only Frank hadn’t lived such a hard life. Maybe the words of Jesus could apply to his life, too.
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