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Fancy Pants (Only In Gooding Book #1)

Page 23

by Hake, Cathy Marie


  “Velma loves you. You know she does. As for Fuller—I’ve told you I’ll speak with him. People mellow with time. After thinking about it, I believe he’ll be delighted to have you around.”

  “That still doesn’t change matters.”

  Tim didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. “Life would be downright boring without you there to stir things up. You keep me on my toes.”

  She pushed past him and climbed back onto the bed. “You aren’t really here. I’m having a nightmare. That’s the only explanation for this.”

  A sampler above the headboard caught his attention. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father. The verse hit hard. He couldn’t make Sydney turn her heart toward the Lord, but he could reflect God’s love to her. Talk never got anything done. It was while working alongside “the kid” that Tim taught Syd the essentials. Sydney heard him pray and accompanied him to church—but she’d gotten that much all her life. She needs an example. Lord, you’re going to have to equip me.

  Tim tugged on the blanket and started to tuck her in. “Sleep awhile, sugar.”

  Sydney’s eyes snapped open. Big Tim was leaning over her.

  “Did you just call me—”

  “Mommy, my shoe broke.”

  Sydney flung off the coverlet at the sound of a child’s voice and gave his shoulder a healthy shove. “Get out of here!”

  Mrs. Orion sighed. “Come show me, Heidi.”

  Sydney yanked Tim back. “No, wait. You can’t go out there now.” She glanced at the wardrobe, then the bed. Neither would serve as a hiding place for the gigantic man. “Get behind the curtains.”

  “No.”

  “Mrs. Orion might well understand your being in here, but her little girl won’t.” Sydney shook her head. “I don’t, either.

  You’re making a mess of everything!”

  Tim leaned so close, his breath washed over her face. “Stop dithering. The best thing to do is act like nothing’s wrong.”

  “Plenty is wrong—you don’t belong here!”

  “Neither do you.”

  Compared to Tim Creighton, mules and rocks were cooperative. As soon as Mrs. Orion sent her little girl back downstairs, Sydney decided she’d voice that comparison as she prodded him out of the room.

  “Syd, I’ll bet the widow can’t afford new shoes for her daughter. Help me out here.”

  Sydney could have resisted just about any ploy of his—but a child in need? “Don’t think I’ll forget about this. I’ll settle it with you later.” She stepped back from Tim. “I can’t return to Forsaken. Kippy’s gait is off. I think a shoe is loose.”

  “Then we’ll see to it before we return to Forsaken.”

  Sydney sidled past Tim and out into the hallway. Heidi held up a scuffed little shoe for her mother’s inspection. “Shoes.” Sydney let out a theatrical sigh. “The ones I just purchased simply don’t fit right.” She dipped her head and confided in a low whisper, “They’re rubbing my ankle raw.”

  “Lady Sydney,” Tim appeared in the doorway, holding her ankle boots up for inspection. “Did I overhear you say these don’t fit?”

  She let out a loud gasp. “You eavesdropped!”

  Tim shrugged. “While Kippy’s getting shod, I’ll take you over to the mercantile and get you shoes, too.”

  Sydney pressed a hand to her throat. “Sir, are you likening me to a horse?”

  “Nope.” He grinned as he let the boots drop to the floor. “Horses are biddable. You’re not.”

  Giggles spilled out of Heidi.

  Tim tugged on one of her plaits. “I think you’d better come to the mercantile with us. Lady Sydney can’t beat me up if I have you along.”

  Heidi’s eyes grew huge. “Would she beat you up?”

  “I don’t know. She’s tiny, but she riles easily.” Tim turned to Mrs. Orion. He tilted his head to the side and studied the little shoe she held. “The buckle fell off? We can stop by Matteo’s on the way. He’s good at leather repairs.”

  Sydney had to give Tim credit. His off-handed comments sounded so reasonable. This is an opportunity. He asked me to help him out—and I will. If there’s any chance I might stay on at Forsaken, I need to prove to Tim that it’s possible for a man and a woman to work together. She stooped, picked up her boots, and went back into the bedchamber.

  Tim’s calloused hand kept the door from shutting.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Putting on my shoes.”

  “But they hurt.”

  “I can’t very well wander out of here and over to the mercantile without shoes on.”

  “Heidi’s going to. Aren’t you, Half-pint?”

  Heidi wrinkled her nose. “Do I getta take off my stockings, too?”

  From the expression on Tim’s face, Sydney knew he hadn’t anticipated that minor glitch.

  Tim hunkered down. “Nah. You’re going to get a piggyback ride.”

  The little girl let out an excited squeal. “Mommy, I getta piggyback ride!”

  “You sure do.” Tim tugged her over, and she scrambled onto his back.

  Heidi scooted higher on his back. “What ’bout Lady Dizzy?”

  Tim chortled.

  “Lady Sydney, Heidi,” her mother corrected.

  “Okay. Lady Sydney doesn’t have her shoes on. Are you gonna give her a piggyback ride, too?”

  “No.” Sydney wasn’t about to let Tim answer the question. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  When Sydney joined them, Tim had taken Heidi outside and put her up in Kippy’s saddle. “We’ll drop Kippy off at the smithy. Right rear shoe’s loose. From there, Heidi’s going to shift from riding horseback to piggyback.”

  After dropping off the horse, they stopped by Matteo’s. While Tim set Heidi down, Sydney caught Matteo’s attention and gave her head a quick shake. Then she smiled. “Heidi’s buckle came off her shoe. We’d be ever so appreciative if you could repair it. You can, can’t you?”

  “Let’s see.” Matteo accepted the scuffed brown shoe. He gave Sydney an uncertain look, and she again shook her head.

  “Hmmmm. I suppose I could try. But the size rivets this needs—they’re small. Very small.”

  “Matteo doesn’t make women’s shoes.” Tim gestured toward the boots along the shelf.

  “It’s a shame. Truly, it is.” Sydney thought of how her shoes pinched. “Would you ever consider . . .”

  “No. Never.” Matteo scowled. “Men’s boots. Some for boys. Saddles.”

  “There you have it.” Tim lifted Heidi and headed to the mercantile. “Sydney, while you find shoes for yourself, do you think you could stir up some for Heidi?”

  Heidi sucked in a loud breath. She tugged on Sydney’s hand. When Sydney bent closer, Heidi whispered, “Mommy and me don’t have lotsa money.”

  Tim gave Sydney a take-care-of-this look.

  “Yes, well, I need to hire an advisor.” Sydney nodded as if to confirm her assertion. “I don’t know what young American girls like. What if I hire you as a consultant, and we’ll pay you by buying you new shoes?”

  Freckled nose wrinkling, Heidi asked, “What am I s’posed to do?”

  “I’ll explain it after we get our shoes.”

  Fitting Heidi at the mercantile proved to be quite simple.

  The first pair Orville Clark brought out fit her perfectly. She did a happy little jig, then hiked up her hem to admire them.

  “They’re brand-new!”

  The storekeeper murmured to Sydney, “Mrs. Smith always passes her daughter’s things down to Heidi.”

  Sydney crooked her finger, and Heidi wiggled closer. “While I see about shoes for myself, you can start working with Big Tim. Show him what kind of material little girls like for dresses.”

  Tim gave her a horrified look and Sydney smiled back sweetly.

  Heidi curled her hand around his fingers. “C’mon. It’s easy.”

  “Easy,” he echoed in a dubious tone. Heidi
started to tow him toward the door. He halted. “Hold on a second. You’re going the wrong way.”

  The little girl gave him a baffled look.

  “She’s too small to tell where you’re going, Tim. Lift her up so she can see over the goods.”

  “I know where everything is.” Heidi’s voice carried a hint of exasperation. “Mr. Clark doesn’t sell feed. Mr. Vaughn does.”

  Tim bent forward and rested his hands on his knees. Even so, he towered over the little girl. “I—we aren’t leaving Lady Hathwell alone here. We’re staying put.” He straightened up. “You want bolt goods, don’t you, Sydney?”

  Heidi’s jaw dropped.

  She wouldn’t mind feed sacks at all, but Sydney didn’t want to argue. Besides, the way Mr. Clark kept hovering made her nervous. “Yes, Timothy. That’s precisely what we need.”

  In a child’s loud whisper, Heidi asked, “Bolt goods or chicken feed?”

  “Bolt goods.” Tim nodded once with great emphasis. “You have to understand. Lady Hathwell’s family and friends didn’t have chickens back home where she came from.”

  “Oh.” Heidi seemed perfectly satisfied with Tim’s hasty explanation.

  Mr. Clark wanted to help Sydney try on each of the three pair of shoes in her size, but she wasn’t about to have him buttoning and unbuttoning anything around her ankles. He kept jabbering, and Sydney wanted to overhear Heidi and Tim. “Mr. Clark, sir, I appreciate your assistance, but I must insist upon being left alone to . . . see to things.”

  “Yeah.” Tim’s voice was so close, Sydney jumped. His eyes were steely slits, and his gaze bore through the owner of the mercantile. “While the lady tries on the shoes, you can fetch necessities.”

  Mr. Clark’s jaw thrust forward. “You told me the other morning that Forsaken is fully stocked.”

  Sydney took the buttonhook from his fingers. “I recall Velma mentioning she was running low on vanilla and paprika. Of course you didn’t expect Mr. Creighton to be aware of such minor items. Could you please fetch some?”

  Though he looked crestfallen, Orville Clark slouched away. Tim waited until he was sure Sydney would be left alone, then went back toward the bolt goods. Sydney hastily tried on the boots as she listened to Heidi’s clear little voice. Tim’s answers were low rumbles. Sydney went over to join them. “How are we doing?”

  “Find anything?” Tim countered.

  Sydney let out a small sigh. “No.”

  “Don’t be fussy about looks, Sydney. Your hems drag on the floor. Nobody’s going to see your shoes.”

  He had a point. “Then I’ll go back to wearing Matteo’s—”

  Tim’s brows shot up. “A proper English lady would wear cowboy boots?”

  “In a heartbeat.” She turned to Heidi. “You’re my consultant. I’m interested in hearing what fabrics you advise.”

  “I like flowers. And I like pink. And orange. Mama doesn’t like them, though. They show the dirt real fast.”

  “Mr. Creighton is going to help us put the bolts up on the table. Let’s choose a few to spread out. They sometimes look different when you unroll a yard or so.”

  “What is it you have in mind, Sydney?”

  “I have a wonderful idea.” She tugged Heidi close and motioned to Tim. He leaned toward her. “I want to have a sewing bee. Ladies came and helped me make my dress, and Velma gave me the material. Wouldn’t it be fun if we had women come to Forsaken and make dresses for the little girls to wear for church this summer and for school next year?”

  Heidi’s eyes grew huge. “Girls like me?”

  Tim shot Sydney an approving look. “Yeah, Half-pint. Like you. And all the kids on the Smith farm, right, Sydney?”

  “Precisely!” A thrill shot through her. Big Tim not only understood her plan; he backed it. For the first time in days, she tasted a hint of the camaraderie they’d once shared. She craved to reestablish their friendship. It would have to be on different grounds—but they both cared about their neighbors. Working together again felt so right. She smiled at him. “What do you think of the plan, Tim?”

  “It’s good.”

  Once upon a time, that answer would have crushed her. After having been a “man,” Sydney understood that men didn’t get all flowery. Curt as it was, his response qualified as a strong endorsement.

  Tim tore his gaze from her and hefted Heidi onto the counter. “So what do you like best?”

  Sydney’s heart warmed at how gentle and kind he was toward Heidi. Some men couldn’t be bothered with children— especially if they weren’t related. He’d remembered how she once said they’d concoct a way of helping the Smiths. Teamwork. He’d told her how important it was to work together. He’d been talking about heavy physical labor—but now he showed a willingness to be a partner in her scheme.

  “Mandy likes blue.” Heidi wiggled. “It’s ’portant for me to tell you that. It’s my job, right?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Why don’t you gals go ahead and get all the foof and poof. I’ll go take care of a few things.”

  Heidi giggled. “Foof and poof!”

  Tim colored. “What else do you call all that ribbon and stuff?”

  “Ribbon?” Heidi almost fell from the counter. Tim righted her, and she clung to his sleeve. “Really? We get ribbon, too?”

  His gaze darted to the ends of her unadorned braids and back. “Yup.” He spoke over in the corner to the storekeeper, and Mr. Clark cast a quick look at Sydney. He went red, then blanched and nodded. Tim slapped him on the shoulder and walked out.

  For having been so very talkative earlier, Mr. Clark hardly spoke a word while helping her. Sydney wasn’t sure what Tim had said, but she suspected he was the reason Mr. Clark suddenly managed to keep to the other side of the cutting counter. By the time Tim returned, Orville Clark finished wrapping up their purchases. Tim eyed the packages. “That doesn’t look like very much.”

  “We got ’terial for me and Mandy and April and Angela and Susannah and ’Lila and . . .” Heidi’s brow furrowed.

  “Melody,” Sydney added.

  Mr. Clark reported to Tim, “A frock and an apron apiece.”

  “And ribbons and buttons. Beee-you-tea-ful buttons!”

  Tim cleared his throat.

  Sydney’s breath froze. I bought too much. I didn’t ask what we could afford to spend!

  “Why don’t you, um . . . get a bolt of white?” Tim’s gaze slipped away as he mumbled, “For underpinnings.”

  Heat enveloped her.

  Tim paced over to a shelf and grabbed a handful of bandanas. “Put these on the tab for Forsaken, too, Orville.”

  “I have a full bolt of the best quality white cotton in the back room. Do you want all thirty yards?”

  Tim nodded. “I’m sure the ladies will find ways of using it.”

  “A bolt of white cotton, and . . . how many bandanas do you have there?” Mr. Clark took the pencil from behind his ear and dabbed the lead on his tongue.

  “I like to count.” Heidi tugged on Tim’s jeans. “I’m good at it!”

  Tim plunked her up on the counter once again. “Okay, Sunbeam. Count ’em.”

  A minute later Tim got ready to set her back down. Heidi clung to him. “When I grow up, I wanna marry you.”

  A flicker crossed his face and his jaw hardened.

  “Nonsense.” Sydney puffed the shoulder of Heidi’s sleeve. “Mr. Creighton is far too old for you. Why, when you marry, he’ll be an old man in a rocking chair.”

  “Mommy says she’s too old to marry. Maybe you and Mommy—”

  “I’m not a marrying kind of man.” Finality rang in his tone.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I need to marry her at once! What do you mean, you’ve hit a dead end?” Rex Hume clenched his fists at his side and stared at his investigator, Tyler.

  “The Chicago fire destroyed records up to and including 1871. Marriage, birth, death—all of the essential information went up in flames. I’ve hit an impasse. At t
his point, you have two choices: Either you abandon your search, or you permit me to speak to the Hathwell family and obtain any facts—however obscure they may seem—in order to locate Lady Sydney.”

  “There have to be ways of tracing her family.”

  “I’ve tried. Debrett’s provided important information by citing that her father was an attorney. Unfortunately, the name of Robert Johnson is absurdly common. I tracked down Roberts, Robs, Bobs, even R. Johnsons—any and all in the Chicago area.”

  “Interviewing only attorneys was foolish. He could have retired!”

  Tyler flashed a grim smile. “I’m well aware of that, so I tracked down every last one I could locate. Furthermore, there was the possibility that he was appointed into a judiciary position. I spoke with several judges. I’ve exhausted all leads.”

  “A woman cannot simply vanish into thin air.”

  “You’re right. At this point, my experience tells me one of two things have happened: Either she was overly trusting and fell in with someone unsavory, or she made contact with a party whom she already knew. In either case, she’s lost to you.”

  “No.” Hume slammed his fist down on his desk. Several files slid and fell into a jumble across the carpet, as if to emphasize how his well-ordered existence was precarious and sliding toward a shambles. He refused to stand by and allow that to happen. “Women change their minds. There’s the strong possibility that she got cold feet, flitted out, and is too embarrassed to contact me now.”

  Tyler hitched his shoulder and gave a noncommittal grunt.

  “She’s my responsibility. I refuse to give up.”

  “The only other possibility—and it’s slim, at best . . .”

  Hume leaned forward. “What?”

  “Lady Hathwell received a remarkable education. It’s possible that she’s working under an assumed name as a governess for a wealthy family or teaching at an exclusive finishing school. She wasn’t here long enough to send out inquiries. That being the case, she might well be under our noses.”

  “That makes as much sense as anything else.”

  The investigator grimaced. “You need to know the chances of that being the case are extremely slim. My advice to you is to go to her family and—”

 

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