Secrets of My Heart

by Tracie Peterson

  She picked up her Bible and hugged it to her breast. She still wasn’t sure where one went from this point. She had asked God’s forgiveness for her bad thoughts and attitude toward Him. She had asked Him to direct her steps and teach her from His Word. And while she had to admit she did feel as if a heavy blanket had been lifted from her shoulders, she was still rather uncertain what else she was to do.

  “Lord,” she whispered, looking toward the ceiling, “I’ve never been all that quick to learn. If I’m not seeing what you’re trying to show me, please open my eyes.”

  Church was a pleasant affair, and Nancy was glad when Clementine and Seth joined her and Mrs. Weaver in the pew. It gave her a sense of family and reminded her of all the years she’d gone to church in Oregon City, surrounded by her parents and siblings as well as aunts and uncles and cousins. Nancy had forgotten just what a strong sense of family church had always represented. Why hadn’t she appreciated it then?

  A memory of Douglas came to mind. Shortly before he died, she had been in charge of keeping him quiet in church one Sunday. Her mother was absent, delivering a baby or helping someone who was sick, and Nancy had taken charge of Douglas while her father oversaw James, who was a few years Nancy’s junior and quite a handful. Douglas had curled up beside her and put his hand in hers, and there they sat for the entire service. He had been as good as a child could be. Afterward her father had told her that one day she was going to make an excellent mother. The memory was bittersweet. Why had there never been children for her and Albert?

  After church, Clementine and Seth went their separate ways. It seemed the Lincolns had invited them to dinner at their house. Nancy loaded up Mrs. Weaver for the ride home. She was delighted when the old woman mentioned enjoying the pastor’s choice of Scripture from Ephesians.

  “It was always a particularly favorite book for my Robert,” Mrs. Weaver explained as they made their way home.

  “Do you have a favorite book of the Bible, Mrs. Weaver?”

  The old woman nodded. “Goodness, yes. I love the Psalms. They inspire me to such heights of hope. What about you?”

  Nancy had never thought about having a favorite book of the Bible. It was upon pondering this that she realized just how surface-level her relationship with God and His Word had been. She had read a good part of the Bible as a matter of rote, but understanding had come hard, and she was never sure how this ancient book applied to her current circumstance. Today, however, in hearing the pastor teach from the first chapter of Ephesians, Nancy felt hope that things would change.

  “I keep thinking on verse seventeen from today. I couldn’t help memorizing it: ‘That the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give unto you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him.’”

  She needed a better knowledge and understanding of God and His Word. She needed the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Him.

  “A wonderful verse, to be sure.”

  Paul had prayed that the Ephesians would have this. Dare she pray for it for herself?

  At home, Nancy helped Mrs. Weaver from the buggy, then drove it around back to the carriage house. Racer, a thoroughbred mix, was happy to return to his comfortable stall. Nancy took a moment with the horse and remembered her youth, when she’d quite enjoyed riding. When had she gotten away from that? She had often gone for long rides after Douglas’s death, but after marrying Albert, her habit had fallen away. She remembered once asking Albert if they might go riding, and he had told her that hardworking people had no time for such nonsense.

  “Well, Racer, perhaps if you will tolerate the intrusion, I should like to go for a ride someday.” The horse ignored her, far more intent on the fresh hay she’d served up.

  Nancy smiled. She had planned to ride out the day before and investigate Albert’s drawings, but so much busyness had taken up her time with ironing and preparations for Sunday, and before she knew it, the day was waning. Tomorrow, however, she might be able to slip away. Especially once everyone got off to work. Even the Clifton sisters had their work at the church, sorting used clothes for the poor and making sure the garments didn’t need mending.

  Making her way into the house, Nancy heard Mrs. Weaver telling Mimi something in an alarmed voice. She’d never heard the old woman so upset.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, entering the front room.

  “Mrs. Weaver is adamant that someone broke into the house while we were gone,” Mimi declared.

  Nancy shook her head. “Why do you think that?”

  Mrs. Weaver looked away and wrung her hands together. “I, well, you know that I always lock my room. Upon our return, the door was unlocked, and it looked as though my things had been gone through.”

  “Surely not.” Nancy glanced around the front room. Nothing seemed to be missing. Had someone really come in while they were gone? If so, why? Were they seeking to rob the place? “Mimi, did you check your room?”

  “Not yet. I just got back. Mrs. Weaver met me before I could go upstairs.”

  Nancy nodded. “I suggest we each go to our rooms and investigate. Should anything be missing, note it, and we will tell the police.”

  With that, Nancy hurried to her room and began to search for anything that looked out of place. She had begun to think that all was well until her gaze fell on the nightstand beside her bed. Albert’s river journal was gone. Perhaps it had fallen. She went to the bedside and raised the thick quilt. Bending down, she looked beneath the bed, but there was no sign of the book.

  She felt a shiver start at the nape of her neck and run all the way down her spine. Someone had come into her house and taken the book. She was certain of it. She was even more certain that the book would turn out to be the only thing missing. She bit her lip. Someone wanted the guns and whiskey badly enough to risk getting caught robbing her house. What else would they risk?

  Nancy made her way to the front room, where Mrs. Weaver waited. The old woman caught her attention. She knew. She knew that Nancy had realized the truth.

  Mimi returned as well. “I can’t see that anything is missing, but I do believe Mrs. Weaver is right. Someone was in my room. I say this only because I had laid out some things on my desk, and they seem to have been reordered.”

  Nancy nodded. “Someone was in my room as well.”

  “Is anything missing?” Mimi asked.

  “A book.” Nancy felt her knees weaken and grabbed the back of the chair. “I didn’t note that anything else had been taken.”

  “Who would break in to take a book? It would hardly have any value—unless of course there was something special about it.”

  “I don’t know. It was my husband’s.”

  But Nancy did know. She knew without a doubt that whoever had broken into her house was after those maps. Had it been that awful Mr. Hanson? She felt sick inside. What was she going to do?

  Chapter 15

  Seth and Clementine returned to the boardinghouse after spending a leisurely lunch at the Lincolns’. The conversation had been enjoyable and the company satisfying. If only Nancy had been included, it might have been perfect.

  As they approached the boardinghouse, a light rain started to fall. Neither had remembered an umbrella, so they hurried their steps until they were all but running. Laughter spilled out of Clementine.

  “I remember when we used to race to the house from the barn in the rain. Papa told us that for every step we took in the rain, we would get hit with at least one thousand raindrops.”

  Seth laughed and shook the rain from his blue worsted coat. “I remember that. I always wondered where he came up with that number.”

  Clementine nodded and reached for the door. “I did too. I once tried to count raindrops, but it didn’t work out well. I was soaked and still couldn’t figure out how to count the ones that hit my back.” She pushed the door open. “Are you coming in?”

  “I figured to. I hoped I might have a chance to speak with Nancy. There was no time at c
hurch, since she was determined to get Mrs. Weaver home.”

  “I’m sure she’ll have time now. She’s very good about keeping the Sabbath. She doesn’t even cook much and instead uses food she’s already made. I had never really thought about how Mother kept the Sabbath. She always seemed to have everything in order, though. Now, as I watch Nancy, I see what a chore it must have been, always doubling up the work on Saturday.” Clementine stepped aside as Seth walked through the door. “Wait here, and I’ll announce that you’ve returned with me.”

  He leaned back against the doorjamb once the door was closed. “Announce away.”

  Clementine smiled and left him in the foyer. Seth heard her tell someone that her brother had returned with her, and then it seemed there was nothing but upheaval. Everyone was talking all at once, and nothing made much sense. Clementine was soon back in the foyer. She looked concerned.

  “They say that someone broke into the house while they were in church. I need to inspect my room to see if they were in there as well.”

  Seth felt his muscles stiffen. He glanced around the foyer and then settled his gaze on the steps. “Are they certain whoever it was isn’t still here?”

  Clementine shrugged as she headed for the stairs. “I don’t know. You’d better speak with Nancy.”

  Seth went into the front room, where Mimi Bryant and Nancy were talking. “Clementine just told me that you think someone broke into the house.”

  “We don’t just think so, we know they did,” Nancy replied. “They took something.”

  “What was it?” Seth felt his anger stirred at the very thought of someone threatening the well-being of these ladies.

  Before Nancy could answer, Bedelia and Cornelia Clifton returned from church. The elder sister immediately sensed there was trouble.

  “What has happened?” Bedelia asked, going to Nancy.

  Nancy drew a deep breath and glanced at Mimi. “I’m afraid someone broke into the house while we were all at church.”

  Cornelia gasped and put her hand to her throat. Bedelia, however, gave a no-nonsense nod. “We shall investigate our room and let you know what, if anything, is missing. As two single ladies of poor means, we hardly had anything of value, but there are strange people who steal things purely for the satisfaction of it. Come, Cornelia.”

  She made her way from the room as Clementine returned. Bedelia paused as if sensing there was a report coming.

  “I have nothing missing.” Clementine looked at Seth. “But someone was definitely in my room.”

  He frowned. Given the trouble Albert Pritchard had gotten himself into, he had little doubt this was about him. Now he needed to know what they had taken from Nancy. He led her to the kitchen.

  “What did they take from your room?”

  “An old river journal Albert kept.” She bit her lip and looked at the floor. There was something she wasn’t telling him.

  Seth took hold of her arms. “Nancy, don’t you trust me, even after all this time?”

  She said nothing right away. When she finally looked up, there were tears in her eyes. “I want to. I know there’s no reason I shouldn’t. I’m sorry I’ve been so unwilling.”

  “Trust me now, then. I promise, I have only your best interest at heart.” He pushed aside his growing guilt at not being honest with her about his investigation.

  She nodded. “I believe that. You know about the guns and whiskey and that Mr. Hanson asked after his. Threatened, in fact. That night he was here waiting on the porch, he made it clear that he would . . . well, he told me that the guns and whiskey were to be sold to the Indians.”

  “Why would he admit to something like that?” Seth asked, having already formed an opinion of Hanson’s declaration.

  “I don’t know. He threatened me too. Said I needed to find out where the stuff was. I told him I would go to the authorities because I wanted no part in anything illegal. He told me if I dared try, he would make sure the authorities knew I was—I was—” She couldn’t seem to speak.

  “A part of it?” Seth asked.

  “Yes.” She shook her head. “I swear I’m not. I knew nothing about it, but the authorities would have no reason to believe me over Mr. Hanson.”

  “They’d have every reason, Nancy. You’re an upstanding Christian woman. You have people who have known you for a long time who would vouch for you. No doubt Hanson thought that if he threatened you with the truth of what Albert was doing, you’d be motivated to find what he needed.”

  This was the only conclusion Seth had been able to come to, but it made perfect sense. Hanson had asked Nancy to investigate and find his cache of weapons, but she hadn’t found them nor given any indication that the matter was of importance to her.

  “I feel so stupid. I found Albert’s journal, but at first it seemed like nothing. It was an older book from his days on the river. The cover was royal blue,” she said as if that made a difference. “He had made charts of the Willamette and Columbia, noting currents and water depths, snags and such. Each map was dated and noted with longitude and latitude. But then at the back, I found other maps. There were quite a few—a half dozen or so. They weren’t identified with longitude and latitude, although I thought I recognized one of them as a place where Albert had taken me on a picnic several times. I’ve been intending to make my way out there to see what I could find.”

  “You were going to go there alone?” Seth asked in disbelief. “Nancy, these men are dangerous. No doubt they are watching you.”

  “They probably killed Albert, didn’t they?” She sounded like a scared little girl.

  Seth wasn’t about to lie to her more than he already had. “Probably.”

  “Do you suppose they’ll know what the maps mean?”

  “I would imagine so. It seems to me that they broke in with the sole purpose of finding that journal. Maybe one of them knew about the book. Maybe Albert told them about it. It might even be Berkshire. After all, they had some sort of partnership. It wouldn’t surprise me if Berkshire fronted some of the money. Maybe that’s what the IOUs are about. Not so much a loan, since Albert didn’t believe in such things, but rather his investment in the guns and whiskey.” Seth’s thoughts churned. “Who knew you’d found that book?”

  “No one. I didn’t even mention it to the ladies.”

  She looked so distressed that Seth couldn’t bring himself to reprimand her. “Well, if they have what they want, then perhaps they’ll leave you alone now.” He wasn’t convinced of that, however.

  Her eyes widened. “Surely they will. I have nothing else. I know nothing. You have to believe me, Seth. I never knew about the guns and whiskey. My aunt and uncle work on a reservation. I would never approve of giving guns and whiskey to the Indians. I know how hard it has made life. Aunt Mercy is always talking about the problems associated with liquor on the reservation.”

  “Yes, and people seem determined to use it to ruin them. If they can manipulate the Indians into starting an uprising, the government’s response will be swift, and the Indians will suffer for it.”

  “Albert never told me what he was doing. Foolish man. Foolish.” She buried her face in her hands.

  Seth couldn’t help himself. He pulled Nancy into his arms and held her. “It’s going to be all right, Nancy. You’ll see. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “But you don’t have that power,” she said, looking up.

  Her lips were just inches from his. Seth had never wanted to kiss someone more than he wanted to kiss Nancy right now. He was fairly certain it was a poor time to do so, however, and stepped away from her.

  She stared up at him for a moment, then turned away as if embarrassed. “What should I do? Should I send for the police?”

  “No. I think we let them believe they pulled it off without anyone being the wiser. We need to figure out exactly who took the journal. I feel fairly confident it was Hanson or Berkshire.”

  “Gerome?” Nancy’s brow furrowed. “Why do you think he’s invol
ved?”

  “You said he was bothering you for what Albert owed him. Berkshire hates the Indians more than just about anyone in the city. If anyone was going to start a war with them, it would be Berkshire and his cohorts.”

  “But how would they benefit from arming the Indians and starting a war? How is that going to aid their cause?” she asked, hugging her arms to her body.

  “Whenever the Indians dare to fight, the government punishes them. Usually by stripping away more land. I have a feeling this is about enticing the Indians to go to war so that the government will force them onto a smaller reservation farther from white settlements. Berkshire could be part of a group that pretends friendship with the Indians only to instigate bad feelings toward the local settlers. There are groups out there that band together to see that the Indians are denied every possible benefit—not that the government has given them much in the way of concessions.”

  “Aunt Mercy and Uncle Adam say it’s appalling how the Indians are treated. They are promised blankets, materials to build homes and furniture, food and medicines, and then receive poor substitutes and worthless items that cannot possibly benefit them. I remember once she said they were to receive wool blankets, but when they arrived, they were so moth-eaten and poorly woven that they were hardly usable.”

  “I’ve heard similar stories.”

  Clementine joined them in the kitchen. “The ladies are all in a dither. The Misses Clifton are terrified the burglars will return after nightfall and harm them in their sleep.” She smiled. “I think they worry about potential danger.”

  Seth nodded. The eccentric sisters were always worried about something, it seemed.

  Nancy looked at Seth. “I don’t know what to do or even suggest.”

  “I do. I will spend the night. I can sleep on the porch if needed. Come, we’ll talk to the ladies and see what compromise will be acceptable.”

  Nancy followed him and Clementine back into the front room, but Seth could see by the look on her face that she didn’t believe his solution would be agreeable.