Song of My Heart

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Sid banged his fist a couple of times on the doorframe, then peeked through the glass window. McKane unfolded himself from a table tucked beneath one of the north-facing windows and hustled across the floor. He opened the door and greeted Sid with a half smile, his gaze zinging into the street as if searching for trouble. “Howdy. Sid, right?”

  Sid nodded, impressed that the man remembered his name. He must’ve met a good four dozen people on Sunday at the Congregationalist church. ’Course, they’d had that ride from Macyville to Goldtree together when Sid fetched him from the stage stop. Sid did more transporting than anybody in town. “That’s right. Miss Baxter sent me over—asked if you’d be willin’ to help me tote a couple of trunks. The mercantile’s new clerk’s arrived.” Something fluttered in his chest, just speaking of Sadie. He’d enjoyed transporting her more than anything or anybody else.

  “Sure I’ll help.” Sheriff McKane plucked his Stetson from a hook beside the door and plopped it over his short-cropped hair. If it hadn’t been for the shadow on his cheeks, Sid would have thought the man had just left a barber’s chair. He’d never seen a fellow sport a neater haircut.

  “Stuff’s in the buckboard,” Sid said as he and McKane ambled side by side toward the waiting wagon. “We just need to carry her things around back and on upstairs.”

  The sheriff rubbed his hand on the rounded top of Sadie’s largest trunk and emitted a low chuckle. “I’m not against hard work, but I’ve spent a good portion of the past couple days building a wall to separate my working space from my living space. My arms are a little tired from swinging a hammer.” He moved to the boardwalk. “Why don’tcha drive the buckboard on around to the back, an’ I’ll meet you there.” He set off for the narrow gap between the mercantile and the café without waiting for Sid’s agreement.

  Sid bristled. Even though the idea was a good one—it’d be a lot easier than carrying trunks from the front of the mercantile to the back and then up the stairs—it rankled that the sheriff had taken charge. He climbed into the wagon seat and brought down the reins harder than necessary. Rudy jerked forward, giving the wagon a sharp jolt that raised Sid’s feet a few inches from the floorboard. “Rudy, you cut that out!” he groused even as he realized it wasn’t the horse’s fault.

  Sheriff McKane was waiting on the back stoop as he’d promised, with one of the Baxter sisters standing guard over him. Sid swallowed a chortle. He knew a couple of folks in town the sheriff wouldn’t be able to boss around. He guided Rudy as close to the door as possible, then hopped down, meeting the sheriff at the back of the wagon in time to grab one side of the biggest trunk.

  “This way, this way,” Miss Baxter directed, flapping her hands the way a hen shooed her chicks. “Mind them stairs—don’t be trippin’. You’ll bang my plaster walls all to pieces if you drop that trunk.” The woman harangued them all the way to the top and around the bend.

  “First room on the right,” Sid advised between puffs. The sheriff had led, going backward, which had left Sid bearing most of the weight of the trunk. He’d make sure they reversed it for the second trunk.

  McKane glanced over his shoulder and wriggled around when he reached the doorway, where lantern light flowed out into the hallway from the open door.

  “Put it down careful,” the Miss Baxter following them shrieked. “Don’t scratch the wood floor!”

  The other Miss Baxter, who stood beside the bed with Sadie still tucked under her arm, added, “Careful, fellas, careful.”

  Sid and the sheriff bent in unison and managed to place the trunk flat so none of its corners scuffed the stained but unpolished white pine floorboards. Sid started for the door, but the sheriff paused to tip his hat at Sadie.

  “Evening, miss. I’m Thaddeus McKane, the town’s sheriff. Welcome to Goldtree.”

  Sid gritted his teeth. The sheriff had been in town—what?—less than a week? But suddenly he was the one to greet newcomers?

  Sadie’s lips quivered into a shy smile. “H-hello, Sheriff. I’m Sadie Wagner. It’s nice to be here.”

  The sheriff gave a slow nod, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket. “Miss Wagner, I understand you’re to clerk here at the mercantile with Miss Melva an’ Miss Shelva.” His gaze flicked from one twin to the other as he stated their names. Had he already figured out who was who? Sid’s resentment toward the man rose another notch.

  “That’s right.” Sadie stood stiff as a telegraph pole as the twin beside her—Miss Shelva, if the sheriff had been right—gave her shoulder several light whacks. “I-I’m so pleased they were willing to give me the job.”

  “They’re good people,” McKane said. “They’ll take real good care of you, I’m sure.”

  Both women tittered, their cheeks mottling pink. Sid resisted rolling his eyes. Seemed the sheriff had the spinster twins besotted with him.

  “But if you have need of anything—anything at all,” McKane continued, removing his hand from his pocket and extending it toward Sadie as if offering her a gift, “you just come by my office. It’s right on the corner, building north of the mercantile. I’m here to serve.”

  Sadie murmured a polite thank-you and ducked her head. Sid cleared his throat. Loudly. The others turned to look at him. He scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor, earning a disapproving gasp from the Baxter twin closest to him. “Shouldn’t we be gettin’ that other trunk? Miss Sadie’s had a long day. She needs her rest.”

  “Sure thing.” McKane tipped his hat once more and swung toward the door. Sid clopped along behind him, with Miss Melva on his heels, advising them on the best way to carry the trunk to keep from straining their backs. After they’d delivered the second trunk, Sid assured the sheriff he could handle the carpetbag by himself, and the man raised his hand in farewell before heading toward his office.

  Sid watched him go, irritated but not completely sure why. A sheriff should have a take-charge attitude. A sheriff should welcome folks to Goldtree. McKane hadn’t done anything wrong. But Sid was still irked.

  As he toted the carpetbag up the stairs, he finally identified the source of his aggravation. He wanted to be the one to make Sadie feel at home. He wanted to help her with whatever she needed. He wanted her dependent on him. So maybe, just maybe, she’d stop seeing him as her adopted cousin and start viewing him as—

  He reached the door. Sadie sat at the end of the bed, an open trunk at her feet and her hairbrush in hand, smoothing her buttery locks across her shoulder. His mouth went dry.

  “There’s your carpetbag now,” Miss Shelva announced, spotting Sid. “Bring it on in, an’ then you skedaddle.”

  Miss Melva added, “Our new clerk’s plumb wore out. We’ll be tuckin’ her into bed just as soon as we’ve filled the—”

  Miss Shelva screeched, “Sister, ain’t polite to talk bathin’ to a man!” She flapped both hands at Sid. “You git. You can check in on Miss Sadie tomorrow.” She closed the door in his face. The sound of scuffling rose from behind the door, and he envisioned the spinster pair descending on Sadie like a couple of crows on a pile of corn kernels.

  He clopped down the stairs, flinging glances over his shoulder every few steps. He regretted not being able to say good night to Sadie. She’d looked so pretty with her hair down. Swinging himself into the buckboard, he took up the reins and lifted his face to the night sky, where a few brave stars winked against a nickel-colored background. He’d been wishing on the stars for years about Sadie. And now, surely those wishes would come true.

  He’d found her a job that would support her family until Uncle Len could work again. He’d opened the door for her to sing on a stage—something she’d mooned over for as long as he could remember. And he had her here in Kansas, away from anybody else she knew, so she’d be looking to him—only him—for companionship. After all he’d done for her, she was beholden to him. Not that he wanted her to love him out of gratitude. But gratitude was a start.

  He gave the reins a little flick. “All right, Rudy, let’s get
you settled in for the night. An’ tomorrow mornin’, first thing, I’ll be fetchin’ Sadie an’ treatin’ her to breakfast.” He clicked his tongue on his teeth to hurry the animal. Morning couldn’t come soon enough to suit him.

  5

  Thump! Thump! Thump!

  What was that? Sadie sat bolt upright in bed and looked around the gray-shadowed room in confusion. Where was she?

  Thump! Thump! “Sadie? You awake?” A piercing yell came through the closed door.

  Realization flooded Sadie. She was in Goldtree, in her room at the mercantile, and one of the Baxter sisters wanted in.

  “I got your breakfast out here, Sadie!” the woman on the other side of the door blared.

  Sadie winced at the shrill voice. She’d heard more pleasant sounds when Papa pulled nails from old boards. Tossing aside the covers, she swung her bare feet to the floor and padded to the door. She opened it and nearly got her nose bopped by Miss Baxter’s fist, which was descending for another rap.

  The woman’s thin face broke into a wide smile. “Are you awake?”

  Sadie rubbed her bleary eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Miss Baxter thrust a tray at Sadie. “Didn’t want your breakfast to get cold. Me an’ Sister’ve already et. Sister’s gone down to open the store an’ I need to be helpin’ ’er, but we don’t expect to see you down there today. You put your things away, get yourself all settled in, an’ you can start your duties first thing t’morrah.”

  Sadie took the tray, nearly staggering beneath its weight. She stared in amazement at the well-filled plate. Fried eggs butted against a pink slab of ham, crisp-fried potatoes spilled over the edge of the ham, and a towering stack of toasted bread dripping with butter balanced on top of it all. Did they truly expect her to eat all of this? And would she be treated to such an abrupt wake-up call each morning?

  “You hear everything I said, Sadie?” Miss Baxter bellowed.

  Sadie nodded. Of course she’d heard. She’d never been around noisier women. Her ears had rung for an hour after the pair left her room following yesterday evening’s bath. “Yes, ma’am, I hear you. I appreciate having today to settle in, and I’ll be ready to start work first thing in the morning.”

  “Good. Startin’ on a Saturday’ll throw ya right into the fray o’ things, but that’s the best way to learn, huh? An’ it’ll be followed by a day o’ rest, so you’ll be fresh for Monday.” She beamed. “Your arrival in Goldtree is just about as close to perfect as perfect gets, Sadie. God must’ve had His hand on you.”

  Sadie’s frustration faded with the woman’s reference to God’s hand. It was something Papa might have said.

  The woman spun and charged toward the stairway, calling over her shoulder. “When you’re done with that food, you just cart the tray an’ dishes to the washin’ sink—follow the hallway to the west an’ you’ll run right into the kitchen—then put things to right in your room. Sister or me’ll check on you at lunchtime. Have a good mornin’, Sadie!”

  Miss Baxter disappeared from view, and silence fell, much like the calm after a storm. Sadie bumped the door closed with her nightgown-covered hip and sank onto the edge of the bed, placing the tray in her lap. As she closed her eyes to offer a blessing for the food, a wave of homesickness hit so hard her body began to tremble.

  She set aside the tray and crossed to the window. Pulling back the lacy curtain, she looked out at another clapboard building set very close to the mercantile. The windows, covered with muslin curtains, offered no glimpse inside, but the simple curtains were similar to ones hanging in the windows of her home. Sadie imagined a family seated around a table, eating bowls of cornmeal mush flavored with brown sugar or molasses, laughing together—the way her little brothers, sister, and mother must be doing at this very hour back in Dalton.

  Tears flooded her eyes, distorting her vision. She dropped the curtain back into place and returned to the bed. The plate of food beckoned. Miss Baxter was so kind to prepare the tray—Sadie should at least try to eat.

  A knock at the door—much softer than the one that had interrupted her sleep—intruded. Her new employers must have decided they needed her after all. She bustled to the door and flung it open. “Yes?”

  Sid stood in the hallway, his dimpled grin in place. “Sorry to bother you so early, but the Misses Baxter said you were awake. I’ll be leavin’ for work soon, an’ . . .” He held out a paper-wrapped bundle. “I brought you some breakfast. A cherry-filled pastry from Cora’s.”

  Sadie suddenly realized she was still dressed in her nightclothes. Although the heavy cotton gown covered her from neckline to toes, she automatically folded one arm across her bodice and took the pastry with her free hand, releasing a self-conscious laugh. “Thank you for thinking of me, but as you can see, I’ve already been served breakfast.” She bounced her chin toward the tray on the bed. “Enough food for both of us.”

  She skittered to the end of the bed and added the pastry to the tray. Then she snatched up her robe, jamming her arms in and then tying the sash as quickly as possible. She turned to find Sid scowling at the tray of food.

  He pointed. “Who brung you all that?”

  Surprised by the resentment in his tone, Sadie remained at the foot of the bed rather than approaching him. “Miss Baxter.” She forced a light laugh as his expression cleared. “I wish I knew which Miss Baxter. All last night, they referred to each other as ‘Sister,’ giving me no clue as to who is Melva and who is Shelva. How do you tell them apart?”

  Sid shrugged. “I don’t. They’re as matched as two factory-carved spindles. So I just call ’em both Miss Baxter an’ leave it at that.” An impish light sparked in his eyes. “Wait ’til you meet their brother, Asa.”

  The opera house owner! Sadie’s heart skipped a beat. She scooted around the end of the bed. “Will I meet him today?”

  “Dunno. Maybe. He’s a busy man—in an’ out all the time.” Sid’s gaze drifted to the breakfast tray. “Did you mean it when you said there was enough food there for both of us?”

  Sadie retrieved the tray and held it to Sid. “Of course. Help yourself.”

  Sid took the ham and placed it between two slices of toast. “I already ate breakfast, but this’ll make a fine lunch.”

  Sadie blew out a little breath, relieved the food wouldn’t go to waste. “Take whatever you want.”

  “This’ll be fine.” Sid pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the sandwich. He whisked a glance toward the stairway, where the muffled sounds of the Baxter twins’ voices and various clanks and bumps drifted from below. “You gonna work today?”

  “No. They told me to use today to get everything settled. I’ll start tomorrow.” She looked at her trunks, remembering Mama’s hands carefully packing. Loneliness rose again. She turned back to Sid and offered a pleading look. “Can you come by later, maybe at lunchtime”—if the Baxter sisters cooked as abundantly at noon as they had this morning, she’d have plenty to share—“and just . . . talk?”

  Sid’s face twisted with regret. “I’m sorry, Sadie, but I gotta take a wagonload to Macyville today. If there’s nobody at the other end to help me unload, I might not be back ’til close to suppertime.” He reached out and grazed the sleeve of her robe—a light, brotherly touch that eased Sadie’s homesickness a smidgen. “But I’ll come by this evenin’. We can take a walk around town—let you see all of it before you start work tomorrow. All right?”

  Evening? An empty day stretched before her. Sadie forced herself to smile, although disappointment weighed heavily in her breast. “Of course. I look forward to it. But I better let you go now—don’t want to make you late to work and have the Baxters wish they hadn’t sent for me.”

  Sid inched into the hallway, waving the sandwich. “Thanks again for my lunch. Get yourself settled, an’ I’ll come fetch ya as soon as I’m back in town.” He paused and his expression softened, his eyes igniting in a way Sadie hadn’t seen before. “I’m glad you’re here, Sadie. Real glad.�
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  Sadie hugged herself. “I’m glad you’re here, too, Sid.” Otherwise, she’d be completely alone.

  He winked, then spun on his heel and hurried off. She closed the door, slumping against the sturdy wood with a sigh. Her trunks waited at the foot of the bed, open but still filled with her belongings.

  Determinedly, she pushed herself from the door and marched to the breakfast tray. “Well, Sadie, this is home now. So eat your breakfast, get dressed, and then let’s make this room feel like home.”

  By midmorning, Sadie had shed a few lonely tears, but she’d arranged her belongings to give the room as much of a homelike essence as possible. Only one thing remained—the framed print of her family, taken just two weeks before Papa’s accident. She gazed at the photograph, tears pricking at the sight of Papa standing tall and proud with Mama on one side, Sadie on the other, and the younger children arranged from Effie down to little John in front of them. Dressed in their Sunday clothes, with the boys’ cowlicks neatly slicked down with oil, and a ribbon the size of half a loaf of bread holding Effie’s dark curly hair in a tail, they made a handsome picture—one that reminded Sadie of happy times.

  “I miss you,” she whispered. She blinked rapidly and set her jaw. No more tears! She surveyed the room, choosing the best location for this special item. She decided to place it on the corner of the little stand beside the bed so she would see the photograph first thing upon awakening. She set it just so on the wooden top next to her Bible, then paused in the center of the room to admire her handiwork.

  The white wrought-iron bed looked grand wearing Mama’s Jacob’s Ladder quilt done in navy, cranberry, and cream. “It’ll give you good dreams, darlin’,” Mama had said as she’d folded it and laid it in the bottom of the trunk. Sadie pushed the memory away before it brought a fresh round of tears. The second quilt—a scrappy nine-patch in all the colors of the rainbow—hung over the footboard in case the nights grew chilly. She stroked the bright squares as she examined the rest of the room.