The New England: ROMANCE Collection

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

  “You did what you thought was best,” Dixon said. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

  Daniel’s attention snagged on a much-marked spot on the wall: the courting plank. Nearly every couple in Maple Notch carved their initials there, ever since his parents had started the tradition when his father had built the bridge. His grandparents were there, too, carved when the plank was still a tree growing in the woods. He came from a proud lineage, but what would they think if they could see the mess he had made of the robbery?

  Clara would say they wouldn’t have done any better. They were ordinary people, not ancient Greek gods. He smiled to himself at the thought. Forget mythology. Neither did they have the wisdom of Solomon nor the strength of Samson.

  Maybe lunch at his brother Hiram’s house would help him figure out the next step.

  “ ‘He loved his country as no other man has loved her; but no man deserved less at her hands.’ ” Clara closed the pages of the magazine. Young Libby had tears in her eyes, and no one spoke a word.

  The children had held Clara to her promise. When they finished early, she pulled out the December issue of the Atlantic Monthly to the opening pages. The anonymous story “The Man without a Country” affected her class the same way it had touched her when she read it for the first time. Philip Nolan, the man condemned to live with his outburst that “I wish I may never hear of the United States again,” became both the most pitiable and noblest of patriots before his death.

  “One more thing.”

  Around the classroom, groans erupted.

  “I am going to ask Miss Stone to give you extra credit if you bring back an essay about all the reasons why you love the United States.” She smiled. “You are dismissed.”

  The children piled out of the classroom quickly, all except one. Libby crept close to her. “Can I find that story in a book? ‘Cause I know I can’t borrow your magazine.”

  Clara shook her head. “As far as I know, it’s only been published in this magazine.” She looked at the pages she held in her hand and debated. Did she dare let go of them long enough for Libby to copy the story? She knew from sad experience that lending a book often meant she would never see it again.

  She looked into the girl’s bright eyes and burned with purpose to see this girl expand her knowledge. “I must hold on to this copy for future classes, but I will write out the story and give it to you.” She tapped the magazine against her chin. “I may even be able to get a copy from one of my friends.”

  “You would do that for me?” Libby’s feet danced with excitement.

  “I would.” Clara thought of Daniel’s practice of reading from the Bible morning and evening before he would read anything else. “But I want you to promise me something.”

  “What is it?” Libby looked like she would run to St. Albans and back.

  “Promise me you’ll read your Bible every day. We both love a good story, but only God’s words will last forever.”

  “I will do that. Thank you, Miss Farley!” Libby made it as far as the door before she turned around again. “I like Miss Stone, but I wish you were our teacher.”

  Clara hoped she would teach Libby again someday, at her own school. From the door, she watched her students scatter to the four winds. Should she have dismissed them with robbers about? Surely the criminals wouldn’t harm innocent children.

  The bank hours usually ended half an hour after school let out, but Clara didn’t know about today, with the robbery. She would copy the story for Libby while she waited after she walked around the town green. At her school, she would move as many classes into outdoor learning experiences as she could.

  She had circled the green once when Lewis headed in her direction from the road leading to their house. She moved to meet him. “Did they let you leave early?”

  Lewis nodded. “Mr. Tuttle said there wasn’t anything left worth guarding, so I might as well go home. He looked pretty discouraged.”

  A stone settled in Clara’s heart. Did this latest development mean he had lost his depositors’ money?

  “You didn’t have to come back for me. You could have sent a message, and I would have found another way home.”

  “No.” He smiled at her. “I am taking you out to dinner tonight. You’ve put in a hard day with those young critters and deserve to relax.”

  “Where did you get the money to pay for a meal?”

  “I’m a working man now.” He cocked his thumbs on his shoulders.

  “You should keep that money.”

  “Clara.” He sounded exasperated. “You take care of me all the time. Let me do something for you for once.” In that moment, he looked just like Papa, and her heart melted.

  “Very well. This one time.” She accepted his arm and walked with him to the café.

  Chapter 10

  Late-afternoon sunshine poured through the windows, giving the interior of the café a warm, friendly feeling. At midafternoon, Clara and Lewis were the only customers.

  The bell on the door rang as they entered the room. “Just a minute,” Fannie called from the kitchen.

  Lewis took advantage of the delay to walk down the counter. “Look at that pie. Mmhmm.” He grinned at Clara.

  “I don’t want dessert.”

  “Of course you do. This is my treat, remember?” He grinned again. “Pumpkin pie or spice cake. A hard choice.”

  “Eat your meal first.” She used her best schoolmarm voice. “You shouldn’t eat dessert unless you clean your plate.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Yes, ma’am!”

  Fannie came from the kitchen. “Miss Farley!” She blinked twice. “I don’t often have the pleasure of your company twice on the same day.”

  Would the overly talkative waitress tell the world Clara Farley was a spendthrift, not to mention too lazy to cook a meal?

  “And Mr. Farley.” Fannie relaxed her face into her best simper. “I heard about your bravery at the bank today. Were you hurt?”

  “I didn’t do anything special.” He bowed in her direction. “Thank you for your concern.”

  Fannie led them to the front table and rattled off their choices. “If you care to wait until after four, you may choose from our dinner menu.”

  “What say you?” Lewis asked.

  “That’s only half an hour from now. It will be getting dark before we head home….” Clara chewed her lip. “But why not? My brother doesn’t take me out to dinner all that often.” For tonight, she would relax and pretend Fannie believed she had a dozen lads chasing her. Even if one was her brother.

  “Then we will each have a bowl of soup for now, and we’ll be your first dinner customers.” Lewis turned on a smile full of sunshine and charm, one Clara recognized from long experience.

  In spite of Lewis’s good humor, Clara wished a man of more serious demeanor could join her for dinner this evening. Daniel had no one to fix him a hot meal, to take care of him after his hard day. She suppressed the desire to jump up from the table and take a hot plate over to the Bailey house.

  The town constable occupied altogether too much of her thoughts recently.

  Lunch with Hiram provided no answers to Daniel’s questions, but at least he left with a full stomach and a pan full of leftovers.

  “You’re too thin. You need to marry some nice young woman and let her take care of you.” Hettie piled enough food for a week on his plate.

  “Hush, woman.” Hiram chuckled. “Don’t take any mind of Hettie’s fussing. She just wants the best for you.”

  Later, after they finished eating, Hiram followed Daniel out to the barn, where he fed the horse a handful of oats. “I know you think no one will have you. But I bet Hettie could find half a dozen women between now and Sunday dinner who would be more than willing to take a chance on you.”

  Daniel felt like jumping on the horse’s back and dashing down the road as fast as the gelding could gallop. But he wouldn’t treat his brother that way. “Don’t even suggest that.”

  “Th
ere’s someone.” Amusement laced Hiram’s voice. “Someone has finally caught your eye.”

  “It’s nothing.” Daniel fiddled with the saddle straps.

  “There is someone.” Hiram tapped his chin. “But who? You’ve talked with nearly every female in Maple Notch since the robberies began.” His eyes, as dark a brown as their father’s had been, searched Daniel’s for clues. “But it’s none of them.” He snapped his fingers. “I know. You have been doing business with Miss Farley.”

  A muscle in Daniel’s cheek quivered at the mention of her name, and heat scampered up his neck and into his cheeks.

  “Miss Clara Farley.” Hiram shook his head. “She’s a bit thin and spinsterish for my taste, but—”

  “She’s no spinster.” When Daniel saw the mirth in his brother’s eyes, he knew he had revealed more than he intended. “I saw her at the school today. Miss Stone is sick.” He looked sideways at his brother. “Now, that one is a spinster.”

  Hiram snickered.

  “Phineas performed well. You should be proud.” By the time Daniel finished detailing his nephew’s accomplishments, he had derailed Hiram’s interest in Clara. Or so he hoped.

  “Hettie will see Clara at the ladies’ meeting next week.” Hiram clapped Daniel on the back as they headed out of the barn. “I’ll ask her to do some sleuthing of her own.”

  Of all the … Daniel wished the subject had never come up with Hiram. But with his father gone, his oldest brother tried to take his place. Daniel shouldn’t resent his … concern. But no one in the Tuttle family had ever needed a marriage broker, and they wouldn’t start with him. Not if he could help it.

  Then you need to speak to Clara of your interest before someone else spills the beans.

  That thought scared Daniel more than all the enemies he had faced in battle.

  Daniel put his brother’s interference out of his mind to consider how best to pursue the robbers. Had they headed south, down toward Lake Champlain and New York? Headed up river and crossed back at the next bridge?

  The circle of suspects had tightened, limited to the people aware of the gold shipment. That included a handful of people on the Burlington end and a slightly larger number at this end, as well as anyone they might have told. He’d have to ask Simeon for a complete list. A conversation with his brother was his best choice, since trailing the robbers had proved useless. By now, they could have circled back and arrived home as if they had never left. His shoulders slumped. He was useless as a lawman.

  Once he arrived in town, he headed straight for Simeon’s house, a few blocks away from the bank. His brother opened the door before he knocked. “I’ve been expecting you.” Simeon looked resigned when Daniel reported his lack of progress. He provided Daniel with a list of all his employees, which exceeded two dozen people in all. Another two hours passed while they sifted through who knew about the shipment, who had been at work, and who had the day off, but at last Daniel had as much information as Simeon could provide.

  “If you had to guess?” Daniel prodded.

  “Believe me, I’ve thought of very little else.” Simeon shrugged. “I don’t want to think any of them are guilty, but someone must be. Let me sleep on it overnight. There’s something niggling at my mind, but I can’t quite place it.”

  The following morning, Daniel stopped by the café for his usual breakfast. “Will Miss Farley be joining you this morning?” Fannie asked as she ushered him to a small table toward the back corner. He smiled to himself. Alone, he didn’t get the same special treatment he had received yesterday. Bright curiosity rimmed her eyes. Had the community started linking his name with Clara’s on the basis of a single meal?

  “No.”

  “She’s been coming in real regular. She was here last night with that handsome brother of hers.” Fannie’s smile said she had succumbed to Lewis’s charms. With his charm, he might marry before his sister did. Some men had all the luck.

  Or all the trouble. He smiled at the memory of his father’s cheerful warning against marrying in haste and repenting at leisure. Marriage to a woman like Clara wouldn’t be easy, but he would never get bored, either.

  Daniel’s stomach clutched. He wanted to see Clara again, but not here, where all the ears of Maple Notch could hear their private business. Perhaps he should go to her home, since he needed to speak with Lewis about his whereabouts over the past two days.

  When Fannie poured his coffee, she took something out of her pocket and rubbed it with her apron. “Will you take a look at this?” She handed him a gold coin, as shiny as the day it had left the mint.

  She dropped the coin in Daniel’s palm, where it burned like it had just left the refiner’s fire.

  When Clara awoke in the morning, the sun had already risen. Surprised Lewis hadn’t invited her to join him for breakfast, she threw on a dressing gown and checked his room. He lay motionless in his bed.

  “Lewis! Get up!”

  He opened one eye. “Oh, it’s you.” He closed it again.

  “Your job!” She sat next to him on the bed and nudged him in the side.

  “The bank won’t be open today. Mr. Tuttle told me he’d send word when he needs me again.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “I wish you had told me last night.” If the bank closed for several days, when would she have a chance to speak with Mr. Simeon about leasing the house? With days sliding toward November and winter weather, she might not be able to open the school in the spring as she had hoped.

  “Sorry.”

  Clara sniffed. A faint odor of liquor wafted through the air, and she got down on her knees. A partially empty whiskey bottle sat under his bed, right next to a coin purse, much fuller than it should be from two days’ work at the bank. She felt its weight in her hand, drawing it out from beneath the bed.

  “Wait, Clara, I can explain.”

  “Later.” Grabbing the bottle, she marched out the door, down the stairs, and threw it as far as she could. It smashed with a satisfying thud against a nearby maple tree. She slid down on the front steps and wrapped her arms around her waist. Tears she had held back when her father had died, when her hopes for the school had been delayed and delayed again, when every possible suitor had turned and run, all surfaced at this final indignity.

  Lewis came behind her. “Clara, it’s not what you think.”

  “It’s exactly what I think. I’ve blinded myself to your wrongdoings all along. Go. Get out of here. And don’t come home until you’re ready to make things right.”

  Lewis put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off. He plodded toward the barn, each step hitting her heart hard. The barn door banged, and horse hooves clattered down the lane. Lewis had taken her at her word, and she couldn’t call him back.

  Clara knew all this without watching, even though she curled herself into a ball, trying not to see or hear or feel. No feelings at all would be better than the despair that overwhelmed her.

  “Clara!” A different voice, a beloved voice promised comfort and succor. Daniel. “What happened to you?”

  A small part of her came alive at the sound of his voice, the part that wanted to enjoy sunshine and sing for joy. She opened her eyes and unwound her arms from around her middle. She looked into eyes fiery with compassion and worry—for her. He took her fingers in his right hand. Shivering, she glanced at the place where their arms touched … and saw the ribbons dangling from the end of her dressing gown. Her hand shot to her mouth. “I’m not dressed.”

  He chuckled. “I noticed. Do you feel well enough to get into some clothes?”

  “I have to.” She dashed inside and up the stairs, passing a full length mirror as she did so. Rather than horror, the figure that she saw bespoke of feminine allure. Oh, not her curves. Her nightdress, while not appropriate attire, was modest enough. But color flushed her cheeks and her hair framed her naked face, her gray eyes sparkling with the wash of her recent tears. She looked almost … pretty. In light of the heartrending start to her morning,
the sight mocked her.

  She poured water into a basin and scrubbed her face until it gleamed from the effort, tear stains banished. A quick brush of her hair sufficed before putting it in a bun. Last of all she slipped into her blackest outfit, as befitting her mood.

  When she went downstairs, she hoped Daniel hadn’t left. She found him in the kitchen.

  “I made you some coffee.” He grinned as if it was an old joke. “Café au lait style, or at least my attempt at it.”

  She smiled, her fakest smile yet, and settled into a chair. “Thank you.”

  “Have you eaten breakfast?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  He took one step toward her, smoke gathering in his eyes, and ran his knuckle along her cheekbone. “I’d like to make it my concern, Miss Clara Farley. Anything that troubles you troubles me.” Then he smiled again, as if he hadn’t just turned her world on its head, and grabbed a handful of eggs from the egg basket. “I’ll fry us up some eggs.”

  Clara put one hand to her cheek, once again hot to touch, her heart seared with the briefest flicker of kindness. She wanted to run and shout to the skies. She wanted to slide through a crack in the floor. What she had to do was decide whether to tell the lawman her suspicions about her brother.

  No, she decided. Not unless he asked. She wouldn’t lie, but neither would she offer suspicions without proof.

  She took a loaf from the breadbox and turned to the knife drawer. Daniel placed his hand over hers. “Breakfast is my treat this morning. You go sit down.” Slicing the bread, he held it over a flame as if he had done it forever.

  Clara wished he would let her do something so she could calm the riot in her mind. Did he think he could announce “anything that troubles you troubles me” and expect her to be unmoved? To cover her confusion, she sipped the coffee, a perfect dark roast lightened with milk, which warmed her to her toes.

  He must have noticed when she finished the cup, because he appeared at her elbow with the coffeepot. “Do you want some more?”