by Bess McBride
“Hello there!” Jefferson Lundrum called out.
Leigh raised a hand to wave. “Look, it’s Jefferson Lundrum,” she said with a smile. “I think he wants to say something.”
Jeremiah looked over his shoulder and slowed the buggy. “I have no doubt,” he murmured.
“Hello!” Leigh called out as Jefferson approached. “Are you on your way to Orting?”
Jefferson brought his horse up beside the buggy on Leigh’s side.
“Good morning, Mrs. Peters. Jeremiah!”
“Leigh,” she corrected him.
“Leigh. Yes, I am on my way to Orting. I heard you were going there, and I hoped to catch up to you.”
Jeremiah jerked his head toward Jefferson. “Who told you we were going to Orting?”
“Mrs. Jackson. I stopped by the house this morning to inquire after Leigh, and Mrs. Jackson noted you had left for Orting. I had some business to attend to there, and thought I might as well join you. I hope you do not mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Leigh said with a smile. She didn’t know much about Jefferson other than that he was single, but she thought that the girl who married him would be a very lucky miss.
“Good! I will ride alongside you then.”
“Do you feel that the road is wide enough for that?” Jeremiah asked.
“It always has been, my old friend, even when we rode our horses together to Orting as youngsters. Do you remember?”
“Yes, of course we did. I had forgotten. The road seems much more narrow since then.”
“Or you are more cautious,” Jefferson said with a warm laugh. “Do you have business in Orting, or is this a sightseeing tour?”
“We’re going to meet my third and second great-grandmothers!” Leigh said. “I’m only saying that because you know about me.”
“Your great-grandmothers! In Orting?”
“Yes! I’m from Orting. I’m very nervous, but Harry wants to see his daughter and granddaughter, so...”
“What is this about Harry? Do you mean Harry Johnson? I had heard from Katherine that he was convalescing in Jeremiah’s house, a rare occurrence indeed.”
“Harry is my fourth great-grandfather! Isn’t this great? And yes, he’s staying there. He wouldn’t go to the hospital, and Jeremiah offered to take him in. We’re all taking care of him.”
“How fascinating! What a coincidence! Though I suppose not really, not if you are from the area. How is Harry?”
“I wish that he were breathing easier,” Jeremiah said. “He really should be in a hospital.”
“Does this have anything to do with visiting your great-grandmothers, Leigh? Will you tell them who you are? About...” Jefferson nodded over his shoulder in the direction of Kaskade.
“No, I won’t tell them that!” Leigh replied. “I wouldn’t know how to explain it. Does anyone?”
“I have not yet found a way to explain it rationally,” Jeremiah said.
“Nor I,” Jefferson said. “I do not even try. I keep the phenomenon to myself. All who know do, I believe.”
“That’s what I gathered. Yes, my great-grandmothers are Harry’s daughter and granddaughter. It’s all mind boggling really.”
“Mind boggling,” Jeremiah murmured, as if for her ears only. “That sounds quite dramatic. Is that a Leigh-ism?”
“Ha! No, but it ought to be!” Leigh retorted in a whisper. “It’s confusing, and you know it.”
“I do. I was only teasing.”
“Martha sends her regards,” Jefferson offered. “I was to report back to her about your welfare.”
“Tell her I’m fine,” Leigh said. “That’s nice of her to ask after me.”
“Martha is a very kind woman. It is really my fondest hope that she marries a worthy gentleman someday, but do not tell her I said that. She states she is a confirmed old maid.” Jefferson finished on a laugh.
“Yes, I think she said that, though I would hardly call her an old maid. Not at all,” Leigh said. “And what about you, Jefferson?”
Leigh caught her breath. Had she really asked that?
Jefferson’s fair skin colored, but he laughed good naturedly again.
“I have no intention of settling into bachelorhood, but these things cannot be hurried.”
Jeremiah cleared his throat, and Leigh turned to look at him. He kept his eyes forward, but his lips were pressed together. She wondered if she had been rude. Maybe people didn’t ask about marriage and future plans in the early twentieth century. What did she know? She turned back to Jefferson.
“Anyone in mind?” she asked boldly.
Jefferson looked down at her from his slightly higher position on the horse’s back. His warm smile was very appealing.
“Perhaps.”
“Good gravy!” Jeremiah muttered near her. “Leigh, I did not take you for a flirt.”
Leigh gasped and turned a furious face on Jeremiah. “I beg your pardon,” she whispered. “I’m just being friendly.”
“You are being overly friendly. There is a difference.”
“Shhh,” she admonished. “He’ll hear you!”
“Good. The two of you are very obvious.”
“Obvious?” Leigh mumbled under her breath. “I need to make friends while I’m here. If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all!” Jeremiah ground out. “I am simply saying that your infatuation with Jefferson is quite transparent.”
“So what?” she demanded. Leigh turned to throw Jefferson a smile, hoping he couldn’t hear their whispered conversation. She didn’t think he could, though he wasn’t far.
“Is everything all right?” Jefferson asked.
“Yes, of course,” Leigh said, again giving Jefferson a pleasant smile.
“I hope I am not too forward in asking, but I wondered if I might treat you two to lunch at the café in Orting? I am not certain how long your business will take there, but I would enjoy some company for lunch.”
“That would be very nice! Thank you for asking us,” Leigh said, determined to treat the pleasant man pleasantly. She suspected Jeremiah wouldn’t be thrilled with the idea, but vowed to keep her so-called flirting to a minimum.
“If we have time,” Jeremiah said. “We do not have any idea where your great-grandmothers live yet. It might be some distance from Orting.”
“Well, we have to eat, don’t we?” Leigh asked.
“She has a point there, Jeremiah,” Jefferson said.
“Well, of course, if you insist,” Jeremiah said to Leigh. “We will make arrangements to meet Jefferson at the café.”
“Wonderful!” Jefferson exclaimed. “I would love to help you in your quest. I have some connections in town—an attorney’s office,” Jefferson said. “I might be able to make inquiries for you there. Most attorneys know everyone in town.”
“We are on our way to the post office to make inquiries there,” Jeremiah said. “Thank you though.”
Leigh turned to Jeremiah. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to have more than one person asking around, would it?”
“I do not see how it could possibly hurt either,” Jefferson agreed.
“Of course,” Jeremiah responded.
“I will go directly to Samuel’s office and inquire after the family. What are their names?”
“Nancy Reid and her daughter, Rosanna,” Leigh said. “Nancy Johnson Reid. I don’t know if Rosanna is married yet or not. Harry didn’t say.
“And they living in Orting,” Leigh added. “That’s what Harry said, but he didn’t know where exactly.”
An empty wagon passed them heading toward Kaskade, several men, with excessively large handlebar mustaches, waving as they passed. Both Jefferson and Jeremiah waved.
“Those are the Olsen brothers,” Jeremiah said. “They probably dropped off a load of fish at the market in Orting this morning.”
Leigh nodded. “Kaskade is such an industrious town, thriving really. I had no idea. I wish that I’d studied more about it before this happened.�
�
“But you are living what you would have studied, no?” Jefferson asked.
“I guess I am,” Leigh said. “Very clever, Jefferson.”
He laughed.
“Jefferson,” Jeremiah called out. “Do not let us keep you. I know you can reach Orting faster on horseback than the buggy will allow.”
Leigh’s jaw dropped as she stared at Jeremiah. She clamped it shut and caught Jefferson’s broad smile.
“I am perfectly fine riding alongside you. I am not in the way, am I, Jeremiah?”
“No. I only thought you might wish to ride ahead.”
“No, thank you. I am enjoying the company.”
Leigh smiled. Jefferson was absolutely charming. In comparison, Jeremiah had turned into quite a surly companion. The transformation was stark, and she was unsure what had gotten into him. Of course, she really didn’t know him very well, did she?
Chapter Fifteen
They reached the outskirts of Orting in good time, but not fast enough to suit Jeremiah’s dark mood. He had thought Leigh a sensible young woman, but she had spent the majority of the journey throwing herself at Jefferson—a sight all too common when Jeremiah’s handsome childhood playmate appeared on the scene. In watching Leigh smile, ogle and flirt with Jefferson, it occurred to Jeremiah that he did not know her very well at all, did he?
“I will leave you here and ride on to Samuel’s office,” Jefferson had said upon reaching Washington Avenue, Orting’s main thoroughfare. The wide road was dusty that morning, though it had rained only two days before on the summer solstice—the night Leigh had appeared.
“What time shall we meet for lunch?” Jefferson asked.
Jeremiah saw Leigh turn to him for a response. He slowed the buggy and consulted his watch. “Noon?”
“Noon it is,” Jefferson agreed. “I will see you at Henker’s Café.”
“See you!” Leigh called out with a wave as Jefferson trotted off in the direction of the false-fronted buildings that housed Attorney Samuel Kent’s office.
Traffic on the road was fairly light that morning, and Jeremiah easily maneuvered the buggy to a halt in front of the post office—a small building nestled between other shops. Jacob Henker, whose uncle ran the café, was the postmaster. Jeremiah had a very slight acquaintance with Jacob and his wife, Sophia, the children of German immigrants, and he hoped he could convince them to tell them of Nancy Reid’s whereabouts.
“I will just go in and make inquiries,” he said.
Leigh, seemingly riveted by the town that was not much larger than Kaskade, stood as if to climb down from the buggy.
“Would you rather not wait out here?”
“No! I want to go in! It’s fascinating to see Orting in its heyday. It’s actually bigger than in my time. I mean...there are more housing developments in 2018, but the downtown area is actually much smaller. Will you look at this?”
“Then Orting declines?” Jeremiah asked.
“I guess so. It’s just a sleepy little town with a couple of stores, cafés and coffee shops. Is that the train depot?” She twisted on the bench to look over shoulder. “Oh, that’s not even operational in my time.”
“It is hard to imagine that Orting, which has grown by leaps and bounds due to the hops industry and coal mining, will reverse course. But you have said that you live there, that there are what you call ‘housing developments’?”
Leigh nodded. “It’s a bedroom community.”
“I do not understand that reference. What is this about bedrooms?”
“A bedroom community is an area where people live and sleep, but they normally commute to work in some other city. In this case, I think most of the people in Orting proper work in nearby Puyallup, Tacoma and cities north, like Seattle. There are a few farms still left around there.”
“And they travel back and forth every day?”
“Every day. Some spend hours in the cars or on the commuter train. I tried it for about two minutes, but then found my work-at-home job.”
“I cannot imagine,” Jeremiah said. “Let me help you down.” He climbed down from the buggy and tied up the horse before helping Leigh descend. She was awkward in her skirts and a bit tomboyish as she jumped down, but her movements enhanced her appeal. They did not detract in the slightest. He was finding Leigh to be quite an original.
He held out his arm, and she hesitated before slipping her hand around his arm. He led her up the wooden steps to the boardwalk, and they entered the post office.
Sophia Henker, a diminutive dark-haired woman in a plain but practical gray dress, greeted them from behind a well-varnished wooden counter.
“Good morning,” she said. “It’s Dr. Cook from Kaskade, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I am,” he said. “How kind of you to remember me. We’ve only met once or twice, I believe.”
“I remember names and faces. How can I help you?”
On the point of speaking, Jeremiah hesitated as the door behind them opened. Given the nature of his query, he wished for confidentiality, and he turned to see that it was Jacob Henker.
“Hello, Mr. Henker,” Jeremiah said with relief.
“Morning.” Jacob, as tall as his wife was small, sported a large reddish mustache that matched his busy eyebrows and thick hair. He pulled at his suspenders to hitch up his trousers before removing his dark felt derby.
“Are you sending out a letter?” he asked, pushing through the waist-high swinging gate to join his wife behind the counter.
“No, actually, we have an inquiry with which I hoped you might help us.”
“Jacob, this is Dr. Cook from Kaskade,” Sophia said.
“Oh, that’s right. I thought I recognized you.” Jacob turned his eyes on Leigh, and Jeremiah knew he had to introduce them. Those few in Kaskade who knew about the town’s mysterious arrivals and departures were protective of their charges, for that was how they were viewed. Stranded souls who wanted nothing more than to return to their homes, with a few notable exceptions. Their plight pulled at heartstrings. Tanya had never truly come to love Kaskade. She had indeed been a stranded soul.
Jeremiah shook away the memory and introduced Leigh as best he could.
“This is Mrs. Leigh Peters, a recent arrival to Kaskade. Mrs. Peters and I are in search of a Mrs. Nancy Reid and her daughter, Rosanna. Mrs. Reid’s father, Harry Johnson, is quite ill in Kaskade, and he has asked to speak with Mrs. Reid. He did not know their address but knew they lived in Orting. Do you think you could possibly direct us to their location so that we may speak with them?”
Sophia opened her mouth to speak, but Jacob’s words silenced her.
“Harry Johnson?” he repeated in an incredulous tone. “Not the Harry Johnson.”
Jeremiah blinked. “I am not sure to whom you refer. It is a common name. Mr. Johnson lives in Kaskade and has ever since I’ve known him. He used to work at the timber mill before he fell ill.”
Jeremiah did not care to explain that Harry had fallen ill to alcoholism and had not worked in many years, subsisting off charity and odd jobs. He had not had the heart to tell Leigh of Harry’s impoverished status, but the sight of his dilapidated shack had probably told her all she needed to know about him.
“Yes, that’s the one,” Jacob said.
His wife stared at him in surprise.
“Well then, might we inquire as to his family’s address so we could visit them?”
“They don’t want anything to do with him,” Jacob stated flatly. He tugged at his large mustache with some agitation.
“I have heard that,” Jeremiah said in surprise. He felt Leigh’s hand tighten on his arm. “Nevertheless, if we could make our own inquiries?”
Jacob shook his head. “No, I can’t tell you where they live. He was nothing but trouble to his wife, Mrs. Moore.”
“It’s Mrs. Johnson,” Leigh interrupted. “Moore was her maiden name.”
Jacob looked at her in surprise.
“I know that, but she dropped h
is name and took her own back.”
“How do you know all that?” Leigh demanded. “You seem to know a lot about the family!” The color in her cheeks was high, and the white speckles in her blue eyes sparkled angrily.
“Probably a lot more than you do, miss!” Jacob said. “They’ve been our next-door neighbors ever since they were little. Nancy and I walked to school together.”
“Well, good!” Leigh spat, taking over the conversation. “Then where do you live? That should solve this problem.”
“Can’t tell you that!” Jacob said, his chin hardening like a mule. He crossed his arms over his chest.
Sophia’s face revealed her distress.
“They’re my family!” Leigh cried out. “Mine! Not yours. I appreciate that you are friends with the family, but this is my family.”
Jacob blinked and dropped his arms. “How? Who are you related to?”
Jeremiah thought a warning was in order. “Leigh,” he cautioned.
She threw an angry look his way, the same look she had favored him with in the buggy when he had taken a disliking to his old friend Jefferson.
“I’m related to all of them. I’m a cousin. So if you don’t mind, my grand—” She paused. “My cousin Harry is sick, he may die, and he would like to see his daughter and granddaughter. It’s up to them to decide, not you!”
Jacob folded his arms again and stared at Leigh. “I can’t give out that information,” he said.
Jeremiah patted Leigh’s hand. “Come, Leigh. We will see what Jefferson is able to discover. Thank you, Jacob, Sophia. Good day.”
Jeremiah half pulled Leigh from the post office. They reached the boardwalk, and she exploded into a tirade of fairly colorful language directed at interfering busybodies.
Jeremiah, noticing the stares of passersby, guided Leigh down the steps and across the street toward the offices of Samuel Kent.
“Take care with your skirts. There is horse dung in the road.”
“I don’t care about horse poop!” she retorted. “What I care about are people who butt into other people’s business!”
“I understand that you are upset, Leigh, but cursing in public will only attract undue attention.”
