At church the next day, Orinda Lou introduced Isabel to everyone as her sister who was just visiting for a short time. Pastor Osbourne shook Isabel’s hand and welcomed her to the congregation for as long as she cared to stay, and several of the women in town came up and introduced themselves as well. They were nearly more welcoming to Isabel than they had been to Orinda Lou when she first arrived in town, but then, Isabel didn’t bring a story with her—yet. Orinda Lou hoped that if Isabel were to leave Ronald and come to live in Topeka, the people would accept her as one of their own.
But for that matter, she had no idea where Isabel would choose to live. She was merely assuming her sister would want to stay with her, but Isabel could have other plans entirely.
As they left the church building and stepped out onto the lawn, Orinda Lou looked around for any sign of Nathan. She’d thought she’d see him as soon as they arrived, but he was simply nowhere to be found.
“Miss Britt?”
She turned and saw Mrs. Brody hurrying toward her. “Hello. How are you?”
“Quite well, thank you. I wanted to thank you again for performing at the hotel on Friday. No one can stop talking about it, myself included.” The young woman gave a warm smile. “We so appreciate your generosity with your talents.”
“It was a pleasure,” Orinda Lou told her sincerely.
“And this is your sister? Welcome to Topeka. I hope you’ll let us host you for a meal soon and let us get to know you a bit.” Mrs. Brody reached out and clasped Isabel’s hand.
“That would be lovely. Thank you,” Isabel responded.
Mrs. Brody glanced around and then took a step closer to Orinda Lou. “We received a note from Mr. Perry last night, telling us that he’d be spending a night or two away. I wondered if you had an update as to his . . . situation.”
“I don’t. I was planning to go for a visit this afternoon.”
Mrs. Brody nodded. “I’m going to pack him up a lunch basket so he’ll have something decent to eat. I wonder if you’d be willing to deliver it for me, as you’ll be going in anyway. We had a much bigger than usual day yesterday, and I promised Sarah I’d do some cooking and help replenish our kitchen. It’s not my favorite thing to do on a Sunday, but the trains do keep coming, and people are hungry.”
“I’d be more than happy to deliver it,” Orinda Lou said, and Mrs. Brody smiled.
“Thank you so much. I’ll have it ready in about two hours, if that suits.”
“That will be perfect.”
As Orinda Lou and Isabel began walking toward the house, Isabel said, “I’m sure you don’t mean to kill me with curiosity, but that’s exactly what’s happening.”
“Oh? Are you a cat now?”
Isabel nudged her shoulder. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Orinda Lou took a deep breath. “All right, but you have to promise me that you won’t react until you’ve heard the entire story.”
“It’s one of those situations, is it?”
“I’m afraid so.” And Orinda Lou very much disliked it when her sister overreacted.
“Well, best tell me or I’m liable to hear it from another source, and you know how gossip is.”
Orinda Lou shook her head. “Yes, I do.” She waited until they had crossed the street, then began her tale—how she met Nathan, how he’d tuned her piano regularly for years until he went to jail . . . Isabel’s eyes grew wide, but she kept her word and didn’t say anything until Orinda Lou concluded with, “And now I’m taking him a basket in jail.”
They climbed the steps to the porch, and Isabel paused. “You’re quite certain he’s innocent?”
“I’m completely convinced of it. He’s simply not the bank robber type.”
“Is there a type?”
“Well, they typically have to be a little aggressive and greedy, don’t they?” Orinda Lou laughed as she opened the door and they entered. “Nathan isn’t aggressive or greedy in the slightest. You’ll have the chance to meet him when he’s released and he comes back to finish the piano.”
Isabel laid her hand on Orinda Lou’s arm. “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to consider the possibility . . .?”
“The possibility of what?” Orinda Lou asked, even though she already knew what the answer would be.
“That perhaps he won’t be coming back?”
“Well, he’d better come back because otherwise, I’m going to have a disemboweled piano in my parlor for the rest of my life.” With that, Orinda Lou went into the kitchen and set a kettle on the stove.
Chapter 10
“Colonel Gordon, I really must know the reason for this delay,” Orinda Lou said, standing in front of the marshal’s desk. “Didn’t you send the telegram yesterday, like you promised?”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows in front of him. “I sent it not thirty minutes after I said I would, Miss Britt. You have to understand that things tend to get a little bogged down on the weekends, and what with this being the Lord’s Day and all that, I don’t actually expect to hear anything until tomorrow.”
That wasn’t at all acceptable. “So all police business shuts down on the weekends, does it? No crimes are ever committed on the Sabbath? I’ll keep that in mind in case I ever decide to break the law. I’ll either save all my evildoing for Sundays because that’s when the police are asleep, or I’ll have to abide by the code of the criminal and take that day off entirely.”
Colonel Gordon held up both hands. “Now, Miss Britt, I didn’t mean it that way. We’re doing everything we can. It’s just that sometimes . . .”
“Things get bogged down. Yes, I know.” Orinda Lou sighed. “May I at least bring Mr. Perry some lunch? Mrs. Brody packed him a basket from the hotel.”
“You can, but I’ll need to make sure you haven’t tucked anything into that basket besides food.”
Orinda Lou looked down at what she held. “Like a gun? A broadsword? A cannon?”
“A gun, a knife—anything that might be used to overpower a law officer.”
“I believe there might be a fork in here.” She handed the basket to the marshal, becoming quite annoyed with the ridiculousness of the whole thing.
He looked inside. “Sure enough, there is a fork. I’ll have to take that, Miss Britt, but I imagine the spoon will be just fine.”
She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Colonel. If you could just be so kind as to make sure that the fork is returned to the Brody, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course, ma’am.” He missed her sarcasm entirely, which was probably a good thing because she didn’t imagine it was a great idea to be sarcastic toward the marshal. No matter how much he deserved it.
“May I go back?” she asked, motioning toward the jail area.
“Of course. Go right ahead.”
Orinda Lou picked up the basket—without the fork, of course—and headed toward the cells. Nathan was sitting on the edge of the bed and smiled when he saw her.
“I’m allowed to give you some lunch from the hotel,” she said by way of greeting. She glanced around—the marshal hadn’t come with her to unlock the door. “I guess I’ll hand everything one at a time through the bars. Oh, except there’s a pie in here. That’s not going to work. Marshal?”
He came, his hand on his gun. “Yes, Miss Britt? Did the prisoner make any threatening moves?”
Orinda Lou had heard all she was going to. “Marshal, your treatment of this man has gone far beyond anything you should be allowed. He has done nothing wrong and is sitting here calmly waiting for a telegram confirming it. At least in my presence, you will stop this ridiculousness. Now please unlock the door so I may hand Mr. Perry his basket. A pie will not fit through the bars.”
The marshal fumbled with his keys, unlocked the door, and then locked it again as soon as the handoff had taken place.
“Thank you, Marshal,” she said brightly. “That will be all.”
He looked back and forth between her and the so-called prisoner, then disappeared into the mai
n room.
Nathan was watching her with a smile on his face.
“What? It’s not like I was going to stand here and let him call you ‘the prisoner’ like you’re some kind of murderer.”
“You’re something else, Ori. Do you know that?”
“Just eat your lunch, all right? We can discuss what I am or am not later.”
He grinned. “Let’s see what you brought me. Hmm. Cherry pie—excellent. Corn bread—my favorite. Wheat bread too—smells delicious. Oh, a little pot of jam. Some sliced ham. And chili—clever how they put it in this bottle for transportation. I’ll eat well.”
“I’m glad you’ll enjoy it. I can’t take any credit for it, though—Mrs. Brody packed it up for you.”
“She’s a kind woman. And you’re kind to deliver it.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated. “I should probably go now. My sister came in for a visit last night, and she’s waiting for me at the house.”
“Your sister? Was this a planned visit, or a surprise?”
“Very much a surprise. I’ll tell you more about it later, all right?” She was suddenly edgy and needed to get out of there, to do something of importance. All this waiting wasn’t at all good for her mental health.
“All right. Thank you again for bringing the food, Ori. It was a nice treat. Not just the pie, but seeing you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Orinda Lou stepped out of the marshal’s office and closed the door firmly behind her, determined to take matters into her own hands. She wasn’t a law enforcement officer, and she knew it was Sunday, but she knew how to send a telegram, and she also knew that telegraph operators were supposed to be available day or night for emergencies. She just so happened to believe that a man’s freedom was an emergency.
Nathan smiled when he touched the bottle of chili. It was still warm. What a blessing Mrs. Brody was to think of him. He opened the bottle and began to eat, pausing every so often to take a bite of corn bread. Heaven. Just heaven.
Of course, eating in a jail cell wasn’t ideal, and waiting for what seemed like forever to be released wasn’t his idea at all of how he would have liked to spend the Sabbath. He’d envisioned escorting Ori to church, taking her for a walk, sitting with her on the porch and watching the lightning bugs come out. It was the strangest thing—he’d never seen lightning bugs west of Kansas in all the traveling he’d done. It was as though they’d decided this was their boundary line, and he wanted to share that magic with Ori.
He wanted to share every part of his life with Ori.
Some things were going to have to change, though. For starters, he imagined it would be a lot easier to get married if he wasn’t in jail. Fixing that was a definite priority. And then there was the matter of his occupation. He couldn’t take Ori with him on the road—not only would she be bored beyond all reason, but he barely made enough for his travels as it was, and buying her tickets as well would eat up all his income. He needed to settle down, stay in one spot, and decide what to do in that one spot. That was the tricky part.
He set aside the rest of his corn bread to eat later and spooned up a bite of pie. Delicious. And hopefully inspirational. He needed to have a lot of ideas, and he needed them fast. He couldn’t wait any longer to make things official with Ori—life was too short for delays or regrets. If he’d learned nothing else through his experiences, he’d learned that.
For the second night in a row, Orinda Lou didn’t sleep well, and it was downright irritating. But how was she supposed to sleep with so many thoughts and so much uncertainty swirling through her mind? It was rather tempting to go buy a train ticket and head out to Kansas City herself just to put an end to all the waiting. She could get there in just a matter of several hours—much faster than it had taken this whole telegram thing.
Since she wasn’t sleeping anyway, she decided it was a good time to wash her hair and do a little laundry. She set a large pot of water on the stove to boil, gathered up her stockings and undergarments, and while she was at it, she started some yeast. Half an hour later, her clean hair tucked up in a towel, she pinned her laundry to the temporary clothesline she strung across the back of her kitchen for that purpose. She just couldn’t abide the thought of hanging her private clothing outside for all the world to see. Then she punched down her bread dough again and went to change out of her robe.
She’d no sooner started buttoning the collar on her dress when she heard a tapping on her door. It was eight o’clock, a bit early for visitors, but as long as it wasn’t Alexandra Evans with more bad news . . .
“Do you want me to get that?” Isabel called out from her room.
“No, I’m halfway there.” Orinda Lou kept buttoning as she walked down the hall, but her hands stopped as soon as she saw him through the window. She was frozen in place, and it took a second knock for her to come back to reality, do that last button, and open the door.
“Nathan! Oh, I’m so glad to see you. Please, come in.” She only remembered her hair as she closed the door behind him. It was still loose around her shoulders, and probably leaving wet spots on the fabric.
“I’ll only stay for a minute, and I won’t sit down—I’d like to bathe and change my clothes first. Jails aren’t the cleanest places. But I had to see you.” He searched her eyes with his. “You’re the only person I wanted to see when they let me go.”
Orinda Lou couldn’t help the tear that rolled down her cheek. “I’m so glad you came. This has been a horrible weekend, wondering if you were going to be all right.”
“I couldn’t have made it through without your support.” He reached out as though to touch her, but then pulled back. “I’ll wait until after I’ve bathed to take your hand, but know that I want to.”
“That’s honestly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard—you’re waiting until you’ve washed the jail off yourself before you touch me.” She grinned, the silliness of the situation becoming more obvious.
“I figured it was the gentlemanly thing to do.” He grinned in return. “I wonder if I might have a cup of coffee before I go back to the hotel.”
“Of course! Come into the kitchen.”
He took two steps, but suddenly she remembered and threw herself in front of him. “No! Wait!”
“You don’t want me to have coffee?”
“Of course I want you to have coffee!”
He raised an eyebrow. “All right . . .” He took another step, but she barred the way, holding on to the doorframe on either side.
“The kitchen . . . isn’t clean,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and hoping he couldn’t see very far into the room.
“I’ve seen dirty kitchens, Ori,” he said gently. “I’ve even owned one or two.”
“But this is my kitchen, and I’d be very embarrassed for you to see it. Dishes, dishes everywhere. Potato peelings. It’s horrible. Scandalous. Why don’t you just wait here in the hall, and I’ll go get the coffee and bring it out to you?” She closed the kitchen door in his face and then turned and leaned against it. Oh, dear. That was a close call. At least outside, she could hang her things up between two blankets or something and pretend at privacy, but here, in her kitchen, they were on display for anyone to see.
And that anyone should most certainly not be Nathan Perry.
She already had coffee on the stove, so it was just a matter of pouring him a cup, adding the cream and sugar she remembered he liked, and then slipping back out into the hall, closing the door behind her. “Here you are,” she said brightly, handing it to him.
“Is everything all right, Ori? Do you need help with anything in there?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Everything’s just fine. It’s just . . . the mess, you see. My sister will help me clean it up later, I’m sure.”
“I would very much like to meet your sister, but not like this.” Nathan glanced down at himself. “Why don’t I come back in about an hour? I seem to recall that I have a piano to finish as well.”
“Ye
s, you do,” she said, her heart lightening at the knowledge that he’d be back and the piano would be fixed and all would be right in her world again.
He finished his coffee and handed her the cup. “I’ll see you in a little while, then. And if you decide you need some help with those potato peelings, just let me know.”
“I will. I absolutely will.” She gave him a small wave, and he let himself out the front door.
Then she turned to the sound of laughter. Isabel was standing in the doorway of the guest room, holding her stomach.
“Oh, that was the best thing I’ve seen in a long time,” she said. “The way you darted in front of him and blocked off the kitchen door—I needed that laugh.”
“Well, I couldn’t have him walk in there and see my laundry scattered everywhere,” Orinda Lou said. “I’d probably die of embarrassment.”
“You only have an hour before he comes back, and I doubt the clothes will be dry by then,” Isabel said, her tone wry. “What are you going to do?”
“Oh, dear. Um . . .” Orinda Lou’s mind raced. “I could take them next door and put them on Kristin’s line. Then they’d get dry, and he wouldn’t know they were mine, and I could put a sheet up in front of them.”
Isabel chuckled again. “That sounds like a good idea. First, though, finish drying your hair.”
Chapter 11
Kristin laughed as she helped Orinda Lou pin up sheets on either side of her laundry. “When I first met you, I thought you were a calm, elegant, refined lady,” she said. “Now I’ve heard stories of you trying to throw dishwater on a suitor and hanging up your underclothing in the kitchen—who are you really, Ori?”
“I actually don’t think I know anymore.” Orinda Lou hung up her last pair of stockings, then shook her head. “I’ve decided you’re a bad influence on me.”
“What? Me? Oh, no, ma’am. You’ve come up with these little adventures all on your own. I haven’t had a thing to do with any of them. Including the marshal paying you a visit.” Kristin nodded toward Orinda Lou’s house.
Gunsmoke and Gingham Page 6
