The New England: ROMANCE Collection

by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Pamela Griffin, Lisa Harris

  Daniel directed Clara to Simeon’s office. As soon as he saw them, Simeon stood and bowed in Clara’s direction. “Welcome, Miss Farley. Please take a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea?”

  Clara cleared her throat. “Perhaps a glass of water?” Her throat might not manage the discussion otherwise.

  Simeon motioned a clerk nearby and told him what was needed. Daniel settled in the other chair, drumming the fingers of his right hand on its arm. Clara felt his eyes studying her, a grin at his brother’s antics lurking behind those light-brown eyes.

  “Study your opponent for signs of their mood before speaking.” Miss Featherton’s words on conducting business came to Clara. “Often you can gain more ground by taking a side path than by a direct approach.”

  Daniel’s posture told Clara this meeting was Simeon’s show. Whatever reservations and opinions he might have about the lease didn’t factor into Simeon’s work with the numbers.

  As for his brother? She couldn’t read Simeon Tuttle as easily, aside from the treatment offered a favored customer. Perhaps he was glad that someone, anyone, wanted to do business in Maple Notch after yesterday’s run on the bank. His eyes wandered to the cigar box on his desk. If she had been a man, he might have offered her one. Perhaps she could ask if she could take one home to Lewis; he would enjoy it. The thought brought a smile to her lips, but she refrained from making the request. She would best serve her interests with him by displaying her fine grasp of finances, as Miss Featherton had so often encouraged.

  She dug her folder out of her carrying case and placed it on his desk. “I have brought an accounting of my finances, as well as my business plan, along with me today.”

  “How well prepared you are.” A smile flitted across Simeon’s face. “I have the record of your account at the bank in front of me.” He laid the two documents side by side for comparison. Daniel slipped behind him and bent over his brother’s back, a slim shadow of Simeon’s more rotund figure. Clara expected Simeon to raise questions, but Daniel spoke first.

  “I see there is a monthly stipend drawn on the account in your brother’s name. A generous amount, by all accounts.”

  Clara felt a slight heat pulse in her cheeks. “My father began the practice, and I decided to continue it.”

  “But he is otherwise provided for? He has no claim on the estate?”

  Anger raised the heat level on her face. “The disposition of my father’s estate is none of your concern. I assure you that the money in the account under my name belongs to me.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

  Simeon looked up at the sharp tone in the exchange between the two of them. He smiled with his usual good humor. “We here at Bailey Bank have always appreciated the confidence your family has shown in our humble institution. I hope we can continue to do business together for years to come.” A serious expression replaced his smile. “Please tell me more about your plans for a school. Is there truly enough demand that you believe a seminary here in Maple Notch will fare as well as the one you attended in Middlebury?”

  Clara took a deep breath before answering. While the subject of education for women and the broader aspects of women’s suffrage enflamed her heart, she didn’t want to frighten the good men of Maple Notch with her progressive ideas. “I believe women need to prepare as fully for our place in society as men do. After primary school, our options are limited.” She took a page from the folder and pushed it across the desk at him. “Here is my estimate of growth, starting with a small class in January. I expect full enrollment within ten years’ time.”

  “Ten years?” Daniel’s interruption ridiculed the idea. “In a decade, you will most likely be married, with a home and children to care for. What will happen to your school then?”

  Clara counted under her breath before answering. “My business plan allows for additional personnel as the student body grows. Even if I am married with a dozen children, I expect to continue my involvement with the school.” Read my plan before you condemn me.

  Simeon looked up from the document. “She does appear to have laid a solid foundation for the school.”

  Daniel grasped the paper and ran his finger down the page without taking time to read it properly. “It still is a risk.”

  “All business contains an amount of risk,” Simeon said.

  Clara wondered if she should sequester herself from the brothers’ quarrel or argue her point. She bit her lip. The words on paper expressed them as clearly as she could out loud. If she spoke, her emotions would carry her away … and she might lose her chance. She stared out the window, at the dust obscuring the common as surely as her doubts clouded her judgment.

  Daniel saw the dust at the same time. “A posse of horses is headed straight this way!”

  Gunfire cracked in the lobby.

  Chapter 3

  Daniel had his hand on the door leading to the lobby when it opened from the other side. A man much Daniel’s size, but with a complete set of limbs and his face partially covered with a bandanna, grabbed Simeon by the arms. As he often did, Daniel reached with both arms, forgetting his left arm ended at the elbow, and the effort threw him off balance. When he stumbled, a second robber came up behind Daniel and removed the pistol from his holster, twisting his one good arm behind him before leading them out like condemned prisoners.

  Gangly Pastor Beaton opened and shut his mouth. A third robber, an identical triplet to the other two in size and build, pointed to the bag in his hand. He went down the line, gesturing for each person to place their valuables inside.

  “Are you Confederates?” Beaton asked. For answer, the robber pointed to his jacket. Daniel caught sight of a red rectangle; it looked like a Dixie flag, marked with a dark blue X and thirteen white stars. The jacket wasn’t part of any official uniform, but Daniel had seen soldiers on both sides of the line with little by way of official regalia.

  Watch, observe—find a way to chase these men down. Daniel’s left arm ached with uselessness. If he had two good arms, why, he’d throw the man holding him onto the ground, grab his rifle, and change the situation in a heartbeat.

  The man beside him prodded Simeon to his feet and pointed to the safe. Simeon looked at Daniel under his dark eyebrows, begging for—what? A miracle? A whole man for a brother instead of the weakling who had returned? Daniel twisted, but his captor tightened his grip.

  While Simeon turned the lock on the safe, Daniel checked out the safety of everyone else in the lobby. A white-faced Clara stood beside the only other woman present in the bank at the hour, Myra Johnson, the bank’s one female employee. A fourth robber crowded the male customers over beside the women. Although visibly shaken, no one appeared injured. So who had exchanged gunshots? Had anyone been wounded? Not one of the Confederates, unless he lay bleeding outside. Baruch Whitson?

  A chill that had nothing to do with the October weather passed over Daniel. He twisted again, harder this time, but his captor steadied the barrel of a Colt revolver, muzzle still hot and rich with gunpowder, against his temple. Daniel ceased his movement.

  The first robber returned with Simeon, a bag heavy with cash and coins in his free hand. Simeon’s face had taken on a pale shade of green. It would serve the robbers right if he vomited all over their shoes. Or it might stir their anger, and they might take it out on the nearest target. His brother. Daniel’s stomach clenched at his helplessness. What he wouldn’t give for two good arms.

  The man holding Simeon took his keys and tossed them to a Confederate before tying him up. The other robber went into the office and found an extra set of keys. Meanwhile, Daniel’s legs were being tied together by his captor so he couldn’t run. Then the man secured Daniel’s arms, as well. Satisfied at last, the robber joined the others, who left by the back door, one man keeping his weapon trained on their prisoners until they all exited. Before anyone moved, they heard the click of the key in the door and the pounding of hooves into the dirt.

  To Daniel’s surpr
ise, Beaton moved first, coming to Daniel’s side and untying the knots as simply as he would a pair of shoes. “Are you all right?” The preacher helped Daniel to his feet.

  Daniel shrugged. “You take care of the others here. I have to go after them.” He reached to his belt loop for a set of keys he kept hidden.

  Whitson sat on the ground next to the door, hands, feet, and mouth bound, blood trickling from a wound to his shoulder. Daniel dropped down beside him. “No one was supposed to be hurt.”

  “No one told the robbers that.” Whitson half smiled. “You go after them. It’s a clean wound. I can wait.”

  Daniel hesitated. The robbers had taken his pistol with them, so he’d have to go to the jailhouse for a weapon. The mare that he had left tethered to the railing before his meeting with Simeon and Clara—that seemed so long ago—had disappeared. Sweeping his gaze around the square, he spotted no other horses. They must have been frightened or led away. A fifth member of the gang? He’d lose more time going to the livery after he had his weapon.

  “I’ll see about a horse. And then I’ll take care of Mr. Whitson.” Clara’s quiet voice spoke from behind him. “You go on ahead.”

  Clara had followed Daniel outside. Had he realized one important clue the robbers had given away? He must have. She wouldn’t waste his time now discussing it.

  She had seen Daniel look around for his horse seconds after she had, and after speaking to him, she took off down the west road, where the livery sat a short distance from the common. Mack Jenson was forking fresh hay into the troughs for the animals when she reached the stables.

  “Mr. Jenson. The constable has need of your three fastest horses.”

  “What’s happened to his’n? Is she lame?” Jenson laid the hay fork down.

  Clara didn’t want to start the rumors flying, but it couldn’t be helped. “No. A gang robbed the Bailey Bank just now. They took all the horses.” When Jenson raised his eyebrow, she added, “I’m getting another mount for him and his deputies while he gets his guns. Hurry!”

  “Too bad he can’t have Lightning. Already rented him out last night to a customer intent on some serious revelry down in Burlington.” Jenson blew out his cheeks and tapped a pair of tongs on each stall door as he passed. He paused in front of a stall that housed a palomino. “Spotty here’s the next best.” He continued down the line, picking out two more.

  “I’m surprised I didn’t hear anything. I was shoeing horses a little earlier. Maybe it drowned out the noise.” He wiped the back of his hand on his face, revealing a pale white patch. “Wait. Was that a gunshot I heard?”

  “I’m sure they’ll publish the details later.” Clara didn’t want to get caught up in a round of twenty questions with the livery owner. She hurried to get the saddle Jenson indicated for the last horse.

  Halfway around the common, she met Daniel with Isaiah Dixon and the pastor by his side. “You got extra horses. Good.” Daniel looked at the road beneath their feet. “Too much traffic passes this way for me to tell which direction they went.”

  “They didn’t come by the store. I would have heard them,” Dixon said.

  “Mr. Jenson doesn’t think they went by the livery,” Clara said, “but he can’t be sure.”

  “So they didn’t go east or west, which leaves north and south.” Daniel took one set of reins from her and swung onto Spotty’s back, while the other two men mounted their horses. “We’ll start with the north road and check for signs they’ve left the traveled path. They’re not going to waltz into St. Albans.”

  “So you think they’re the same men who robbed the banks in St.Albans?”

  Daniel’s face hardened. Clara almost bit her tongue. “Do you have another idea?”

  She shook her head. “Just a possibility. We can talk about it later if you don’t find them.”

  “I’ll hold you to it. I don’t want you going home until we’ve checked the north road.” His fiery eyes held hers for a moment; then he dug his knees into the horse’s side, and they galloped away.

  “He just told me to stay in town,” Clara said under her breath. She blasted out her frustration between her teeth. “And I won’t get to look at the Bailey Mansion today, either.” She glanced at the sky. “If I believed more in signs, I would think You were telling me that the school was a bad idea.”

  So Daniel didn’t want her going home along the road to St. Albans. His suggestion should rile her feathers, but instead, she felt warm and cozy, like a chick under its mother’s wings. What should she do instead? She checked her reticule and found a few loose coins, enough for a bowl of soup and cornbread with a glass of milk at Fannie’s Café. What would she do if Daniel hadn’t returned by the evening? Her lips curved at the thought. She would have to head home before the sun deserted the sky, whether or not the constable had returned to town.

  But as early as it was, Daniel still might find quick success, and she wouldn’t need to spend her money on lunch, after all. A bird called from overhead and landed on the roof of the church. “That’s a good place to wait.” She walked through the always-open doors and took a seat beneath one of the windows.

  I could have been killed! Fears she had been holding at bay rushed in, and she shivered inside her warm cloak. “Take ahold of yourself, Clara Farley.” She forced herself to speak clearly, stopping the chattering of her teeth. “Nothing happened to you.”

  But it had. The consequences of the robbery crashed home.

  The bank was robbed.

  All my money was in the bank.

  She stared at the empty cross high on the wall behind the pulpit. “Does that mean I’ve lost all my money? Everything Father left to provide for us?”

  She sank to the kneeling rack in front of her. Somewhere a door opened, but she didn’t stir. If she looked like a pious woman at prayer, no one would bother her. Only she and God knew the truth: She couldn’t tear her thoughts away from the empty bank vault. The palette of her future, so recently as full of color as the forests in fall, was now as stark and relentless as bare trees in winter. She sniffled.

  “Miss Farley? Is that you?”

  Daniel Tuttle. She didn’t want him to guess the cause of her dismay, not until she thought of a way out of her predicament. She sucked in her breath, dabbed a discreet handkerchief to her cheeks, and stood to her feet.

  “Mr. Tuttle. Back so soon?”

  “We followed the road into St. Albans and didn’t catch sign the robbers passed that way. A winter storm met us on our way back.” He pointed to the darkening windows. “Let me escort you home before the road becomes impassable.”

  She had gone about in bigger storms than this, but she nodded her acquiescence. “I’d best get home. Lewis will become worried about me if I am out in a storm.”

  “Do you wish to ride?” Daniel gestured to Spotty. Clara looked up at the horse’s head, tall even for a horse, and full of spirit. “I’d rather walk, thank you.”

  Amusement lit his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. “I’ll lead him, then, and ride him back. Don’t want to get caught in the storm myself.”

  Outside the church, the temperature had dropped, and wind howled through the trees on the common, stripping them of the few leaves left on the branches. She tugged the hood of her cape around her head and tightened the strings.

  Daniel waited until she finished pulling on her gloves before he began walking to the northwest corner of the common, which headed toward St. Albans. “At least the wind is at our back. We won’t be fighting it.”

  The wind did push her forward, speeding her steps. They walked in silence until they passed the building where the Widow Landry took in laundry, the last dwelling in the town proper. Snow sifted from the skies as they reached the open road. Daniel said, “I’d like to hear your theory about the robbers.”

  So he remembered. First she had a question to ask. “Did you hear them say anything?” Individual snowflakes landed on his forehead as he scowled in concentration. After a long moment’s thought
, he said, “No.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “You think there was a reason for that? They didn’t want to give away their status as Confederates by their accents?”

  She shook her head and then realized he probably couldn’t see her in the swirling snow.

  “I don’t think that’s it. From what I heard about St. Albans, they claimed the town for the Confederacy quite boldly.”

  He murmured his agreement.

  “I’m afraid it’s something else.”

  He paused midstride and turned her to him. “Go ahead. Spit it out.”

  “What if they didn’t say anything because … we’d recognize their voices?”

  Chapter 4

  Clara waited for Daniel’s answer, but he was already shaking off her suggestion. “We saw them. We’d have known them.”

  Her lips thinned into a straight line. “They all wore much the same clothes, and not more than two inches difference in height stood between them. With hats and bandannas hiding most of their faces, we couldn’t see any facial features or hair. I don’t think I’d recognize my own brother in that getup. Would you?”

  He started walking again, and she hurried to catch up. When she opened her mouth to speak, he lifted a finger to his lips for silence, his brows creased in thought. Maybe he was like Papa that way; he would consider facts presented to him before making a decision. They strode along for several yards, the horse following docilely behind them.

  At last Daniel broke the silence. “That makes my job easier … and harder.”

  The faraway look in his eyes didn’t invite confidences, so she didn’t comment. The brisk pace he set generated warmth as they plodded ahead through snow that began to stick to patches of ground away from the road. She hoped Lewis had decided to come home early after all, not staying out late as he’d expected. A light in the window and warmth in the house would be most welcome.

  When they climbed the last rise before her farm and she saw that the house remained unlit and unwelcoming, Clara suppressed a sigh.