As he walked by one house, Frank caught the faint scent of the climbing roses on the trellis by the front porch. In other yards, various cultivated flowers added a multicolored patchwork to the manicured lawns. He couldn’t ever remember noticing so many things about the landscape. Somehow, the earth felt new this morning. Maybe he should plant some roses or other flowers around his home. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Gerda would like that. I know she likes wildflowers.
He reached the stable and looked inside. Hank was feeding some of the animals that were in the many stalls.
“Hank, is everything all right?”
The other man looked up. “Just fine, Sheriff.”
Frank headed toward the smithy. The doors were wide open, so August must already be working.
When Frank darkened the doorway, August glanced toward him. “Ah, Frank, how are you this morning? Still feeling as good as you did yesterday?”
Frank took off his hat and gently tapped it on one leg while he talked. “Every bit as good. Does this feeling ever go away?”
August laughed. “It’s really new to you. You’ll get used to it, and some days you might not even notice, but the Lord’s presence is always with you, and it changes everything in your life.”
Frank stepped into the shaded interior of the building. August hadn’t fired up the forge yet, so it was still comfortable.
“I took a big bouquet of those wildflowers you told me about to Gerda this morning.”
Frank leaned against the table that ran along one wall of the smithy then placed his hat on a clear spot behind him.
August joined him. “How did that go?”
“All right, I guess. We just talked a few minutes, and I left.”
“Did Anna offer you some of the apple fritters she made this morning?”
Suddenly, Frank realized that there had been a spicy fragrance in the workroom of the dress shop. He had concentrated on Gerda so much that he hadn’t let it sink in. He chuckled.
“I didn’t even notice them when I was there. I was. . .looking at Gerda.”
August laughed hard. “You have it bad, don’t you? Wait until I tell Gustaf. He’ll appreciate this.”
Frank crossed his ankles and looked down at the toes of his boots. “I’ve never tried to woo a woman before. I’ll try to remember all you and Gustaf told me about her. I just don’t want to scare her away before I can ask her to marry me.”
August laughed again.
Frank shook his head. “You sure are getting a lot of fun out of my predicament, August. Maybe it was a mistake to talk to you and Gustaf yesterday.”
“No, Frank, we’re glad you’re interested in Gerda.” He tried to smother another laugh and failed. “That’s why we’re going to help you with your courtship.”
Frank tried to frown at him but didn’t quite make it. “And I appreciate that. I just hope the flowers are a good enough hint.”
When Frank walked away, his thoughts returned to his desire for a wife and children.
And not just any wife would do. It had to be Gerda Nilsson.
❧
When Gerda went to her apartment for lunch, she couldn’t get Frank out of her mind. The picture of the tall lawman standing in the middle of a women’s dress shop, holding a bouquet of flowers, had set her heart beating almost double-time. She hadn’t been able to settle down to anything for more than a few minutes the whole morning. Now, here she was trying to eat a light lunch, but the food didn’t hold her interest either.
Gerda had set the bouquet on her dining room table. It took up too much space in the workroom. Besides, with it up here, maybe this afternoon she could concentrate on what needed to be done. She laid her fork on her plate and looked at the vase. She propped her elbows on the table—something her mother had told her never to do—then dropped her head into her hands.
Father God, I prayed for You to bring me a man to love. I asked You to remove the temptation of Frank Daggett, but You haven’t. What am I supposed to do?
The food on her plate still didn’t look appetizing. She took it over to the cabinet and covered it with a tea towel, then set it in the icebox. Maybe she would eat it for dinner.
Gerda paced through the dining room and into the parlor, then back again. The second time around, she stopped to look at the flowers. The only way Frank could have gotten a large bouquet like this was to pick them this morning. For some reason, she couldn’t picture him out gathering wildflowers, but here they were—on her table. If he was going to go to that much trouble, why didn’t he tell her why he’d brought them to her?
Soon Gerda returned to the dress shop. Anna was only working half a day today. She had gone home at lunchtime, so Gerda would be alone. Maybe she could get something accomplished this afternoon. She sat at the treadle sewing machine and looked out the window before she started sewing the seams on a light blue dimity dress for the mayor’s daughter. Soon she was lost in getting as much of the sewing done as possible. She almost didn’t hear the bell jingle when the shop door opened.
In a repeat of the morning, when Gerda went out front, Frank was standing in the middle of the room. This time, he held a small package. From the looks of it, she surmised he had probably wrapped it himself.
Gerda stood still and looked at him. “Do you need something, Frank?”
“Actually, I brought you something.” He thrust the badly wrapped package toward her.
She took it. “Why are you doing all this?”
Frank’s gaze bored into hers with an expression that looked almost like yearning. “I’m really interested in you, Gerda.” He reached his hand toward her before dropping it to his side.
Gerda glanced at the present in her hands. She moved to the counter and laid it down before she began opening it. The small box held a delicate china shepherdess. She gently picked it up and examined it. Anything to keep her attention off Frank. Because he wasn’t a Christian, she didn’t know what to say to his declaration.
“This is exquisite.” She glanced up at the tall lawman who was studying her intently.
“It belonged to my mother.” He blew out a deep breath. “I thought you might like to have it.”
“I would, but maybe you should keep it in your family.” She extended the figurine toward him.
“I don’t have a family.”
Such a mournful-sounding phrase.
Once again she was captured by his tender expression. What could she say? But she didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.
“Frank, I don’t know how to say this, but. . .you don’t profess to be a believer. You are a good friend, but that’s. . .all we can be.” Her voice ended almost in a whisper.
If anything, his expression turned even more tender. “Gerda, I am a believer. I asked Jesus into my heart and life yesterday after church.”
She studied his face. He seemed sincere, but could she trust appearances? What if he was just saying what he thought she would want to hear? “That’s wonderful, Frank.”
They stood and gazed at each other for another long moment. Then Frank dipped his head toward her. “I’ll let you get back to work. I should as well.”
With that, the lawman walked out the front door. Gerda stood staring after him, cradling the delicate figurine in her fingers.
What am I going to do, Lord? After this hurried prayer, Gerda went to the workroom to finish what she had started. She took the small china ornament and set it on the windowsill where she would see it from the sewing machine. After each seam, her attention was drawn to the gift. She stared at it for a few minutes before starting the next seam. At this rate, I’ll never finish the dress.
Gerda looked at the watch that hung from the brooch on her blouse. It was getting late enough that she probably should close the store for the day. She was about to step through the curtains into the front room of the shop when the bell over the door jingled again. Her heart leaped then beat frantically. Her hand fluttered to her throat, trying to still her racing heartbeat
. Was Frank back again? If so, what would he bring this time?
She pulled back one side of the curtains that covered the doorway, which revealed her brother August. She smiled at him and went to give him a hug.
“You seem a little jumpy today, Sister.” His usually gruff voice sounded as though he was amused by something.
Gerda went behind the counter and leaned her forearms on the top. “No, I’m fine.” She set the shepherdess she was carrying on the counter beside her.
“What’s this?” The ornament was almost lost in August’s huge hands. He turned it over and over and looked at it. “It’s really pretty. Dainty, too.”
Gerda couldn’t take her gaze from the piece of porcelain. “Fra—Sheriff Daggett brought it to me this afternoon.” She took it from her brother. “He said he’s interested in me.”
“And what do you think about that?” August stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his denim trousers.
“I think maybe he means romantically.”
“I’m sure he does.” August chuckled.
“I told him that I couldn’t be interested in him more than just as friends, because he’s not a believer in Jesus.” Gerda set the porcelain girl on the counter again.
“What did he say to that?”
Gerda wondered why August was so interested. “He told me that he asked Jesus into his life yesterday. I hope he wasn’t just saying that because he knew I would want to hear it.”
August cleared his throat. “He wasn’t. I was with him.”
Gerda arched her brows, but before she could ask the question, August continued.
“Gustaf and I noticed that Frank hadn’t come out of the church when everyone else did. We went to see if he needed any help.”
Gerda was glad that her brothers were so observant.
“Frank had a lot of questions after Joseph’s sermon. We answered them the best we could. After reading John 3:16, Frank wanted to ask Jesus into his life. Gustaf and I knelt at the altar with Frank and helped him pray to receive Jesus. I’ve never heard anyone more sincere than Frank was.”
Tears pooled in Gerda’s eyes. That could change things. Was it possible that Frank was the man God intended for her to have?
Fourteen
The whole evening, Gerda couldn’t get her conversation with her brother out of her mind. August didn’t have any reason to lie to her, so she believed him. He was there when Frank knelt at the church altar and asked Jesus into his heart. So was Gustaf. Surely Frank didn’t do it just to impress her. If so, why spend so much time asking questions about what Pastor Harrelson said? Besides, in his sermon on Sunday, Joseph had told about his life as a gunman before he gave his heart to Jesus. Frank had lived by the gun, too, but he hadn’t broken the law. He upheld it. God could reach out to him just as well as he could reach into that prison to save Joseph Harrelson.
All the time Gerda dressed for bed, she thought about Frank. She brushed her hair one hundred strokes before plaiting it in a loose braid for sleep, remembering every expression on his face during each of his visits to the store that day. Looking at that tall man with a bouquet clutched in his masculine hands touched something deep inside her. Those hands were working hands—strong hands, bronzed by the sun, with fingers that could wield a hammer as well as a gun. She wondered how gentle those fingers would feel if they brushed her cheek.
Frank brought gifts to her and treated her with respect, even as his gaze seemed to devour her every expression. His eyes were like quicksilver, always changing. The blue going from light to a medium hue as he seemed to be memorizing her features. When his gaze connected with hers, his eyes were aflame with something that Gerda wasn’t ready to put a name to.
She set her hairbrush down, walked over to her rocking chair, and picked up her Bible. When she sat down, it fell open in her lap at the first chapter of Job. Maybe his story of woe would take her mind off the puzzle that was Frank Daggett, handsome lawman and new Christian.
When she got to the eighth verse, she stopped.
Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil?
These words fell into her heart. She remembered the day Anna brought her Bible to the shop and shared this verse with her. If God was bringing it to her attention more than once, maybe God saw Frank in a different way than Gerda had seen him all along. Maybe He saw the man Frank was going to become, not the one he had been. Maybe Frank was becoming an upright man who feared God and turned from evil. From what she knew, he certainly fought evil every chance he got.
Gerda bowed her head and closed her eyes. Father God, are You trying to tell me something? I have begged You to take the temptation of Frank Daggett out of my life and heart, but he’s still there. Now he knows You. Is he the man You prepared for me? Is he the reason I haven’t felt drawn to any other man?
She opened her eyes and lifted her head, then looked across the room at the empty settee. “God, I wish You were sitting there talking to me. I want to hear Your voice. I am so uncertain. Why does it have to be so hard to know for sure that I’m hearing from You?”
❧
About midmorning on Tuesday, July 1, Frank went into the Dress Emporium. Gerda and a customer were looking at a stack of bolts on the counter. The colors of the fabrics ranged from indigo blue all the way through the colors of a rainbow and beyond. The woman seemed to be having a hard time deciding which to choose, so Frank walked around the store and looked at all the doodads sitting on shelves and furniture. Gerda or Anna had skillfully draped lacy things around them to display the items in an artistic manner. What was it about women that they could do that naturally? Frank knew he had never arranged anything to look that good. He pictured things lined up and in order, but usually they were boring to look at. That’s why a man needed a woman to bring beauty into his life. A woman like Gerda.
When the customer finally went out the front door, Frank turned from where he was studying a display of gloves, handbags, and scarves. Gerda stood close behind him.
“Can I help you with anything, Frank?” The wary look that had been on her face yesterday was gone, and in its place was peace. Frank took that as a good sign.
“I came to ask you something, Gerda.”
Her eyebrows lifted as if in question, but she didn’t ask one.
“The picnic.” Frank cleared his throat. She was so close that his nostrils filled with the delicate fragrance of some flower, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Roses, maybe. He just knew that it came from Gerda. It drew him toward her like a bee to honey. He wanted to take her in his arms and bury his face in her abundant corn silk colored hair, but he held back. “Would you accompany me to the Independence Day picnic?”
Gerda stared into his eyes as if looking for something. “That would be nice. I can make a basket of food to take.”
“No need.” Frank wanted to cradle her cheek in his hand. He was sure it would feel soft and smooth. Instead he stuffed both hands into his pockets. “I’ll bring everything. All you have to do is get ready.”
“Why, Frank.” Gerda chuckled low in her throat. The sound caused a trembling in Frank’s midsection. He had never had that happen before. “I didn’t know that you could cook, too.”
He laughed with her. “I wouldn’t want the meal to be a disaster. Bacon or ham and eggs aren’t right for a picnic. No, I’ll have Mrs. Olson at the boardinghouse do the basket. I often eat there, and she’s a good cook. She sure likes to mother the single men who frequent her place.”
Gerda walked over to the counter, talking to him as she went, so he followed. “I didn’t know you still ate there—since you moved into your house.”
“It’s easier than trying to cook for myself. As I said, my cooking abilities are limited.”
She walked around the counter and reached behind it to lift something off the shelf. “I never thanked you for your gift.” She held the figurine that had belonged to his mother in t
he palm of her hand. Her fingers caressed it as she talked. “I enjoy looking at her. I often put her near me when I’m working.”
Frank leaned one hand on the counter. “Does she make you think of me, Gerda?” For some reason, the answer to this question was very important to him.
She didn’t take her eyes off his and hers twinkled. “Oh, I don’t need reminders to think of you.” She must have realized how that sounded, because she looked down and blushed.
Frank smiled. That was the best thing anyone had ever said to him. He was glad it was Gerda who’d said it. “Well, I’ll come by your apartment at about ten o’clock on Friday.”
“I’ll be ready.” Her whispered words reached him just before he went out the door.
❧
Gerda awoke early on Friday. Her stomach fluttered too much to eat any breakfast, so she just made a pot of tea. She took a leisurely bath and trimmed and buffed her nails until they had a healthy shine. After splashing on some rose water, she braided her hair and fastened it into a figure-eight bun at the nape of her neck. It took her a long time to decide what to wear. She tried on three different dresses before settling on a navy skirt and a crisp, white middy blouse with a sailor collar. The braid on the collar matched the color of the skirt. She liked the way the outfit emphasized her waist, and it wouldn’t be too dressy for a picnic.
Gerda sat on the settee, listening to the traffic in the street. Too restless to stay seated, she went into her bedroom and peeked between the ruffled curtains. It looked as if everyone in town was headed in the direction of Lake Ripley. The people in Litchfield really liked to celebrate freedom. She glanced at the watch pinned to her collar. It was only 9:30.
When she sat in the rocking chair with a book of poetry, she didn’t mind the wait. She enjoyed the rhythm and beauty of the words and the emotions they spoke about. Before she knew it, footsteps were coming up the wooden stairs. Gerda put down the book, looked at her watch again, and smiled. Frank must have been eager, too. He’s early.
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