Calico Brides (23 page)

“Keep on walking,” Ned urged. “Don’t give them the satisfaction of thinking they have any more power over you.” He increased the pressure on her elbow until she moved in step with him.

A few feet farther, she hesitated again. A slender, pale figure loitered in the shadowed corner of the saloon, young Michal Clanahan. When Michal saw Birdie, her eyes widened, and she beckoned for her attention.

Ned hadn’t seen the exchange. His attention was focused ahead of them, where the sounds of a lively fair beckoned. Birdie wanted to enjoy the company of the good man at her side, but she had to help Michal.
“She is the first one of many.”
God’s voice sounded clear in her heart, and she came to a complete stop.

“Mr. Finnegan…”

“I’d be honored if you called me Ned.” He took another step but stopped when she planted her feet. “We’re almost there.”

“Michal, the girl I told you about, is waiting over there.” Birdie looked at him, willing him to understand. “I’m not certain, but I think she’s asking for help.”

Ned had taken the route past the saloon on purpose. Birdie needed help to shake free of her past, and he hoped God had given him the job. But he hadn’t expected to be made a partner in Birdie’s desire to rescue soiled doves.

Before he could formulate a response, Birdie’s hand slipped from his grasp. “I’ve got to find out what’s wrong.” With a furtive glance around, she raced along the side of the building that held the bar. It was without windows; no one could see her.

Ned hesitated, uncertain. Should he follow? Should he go on ahead? Instinct told him to move away from the front of the saloon, where he might attract unwanted attention. As he was turning away, the saloon doors swung open and a barrel-chested man sauntered outside. Nigel Owen, the saloon owner. Ned’s guts twisted. At all costs, he had to divert Owen’s attention from the back of the saloon.

The saloon owner gulped a mouthful of fresh air before he clipped a cigar and stuffed it in his mouth. “Finnegan, isn’t it?”

Ned nodded. Did Owen know anything about his association with Birdie? “Are you talking to me?”

“I sure am.” Owen gestured for Ned to join him in the shadows on the porch. “Come on over here so’s we can speak like civil people.”

Birdie disappeared behind the next building, her friend in tow. Ned forced his difficult-customer smile on his face. “You must be Mr. Owen.” He took a couple of short steps, stopping a considerable distance from the saloon. Standing that close to the establishment made him uncomfortable.
This is for Birdie
.

“How’s your business doing these days?” Owen lit the cigar and puffed on it, and Ned changed positions so the smoke wouldn’t blow in his face. “They’ve been dragging a little bit at the Betwixt ’n’ Between, I have to tell you. Us businessmen have to stick together.”

Us businessmen?
Ned didn’t have anything in common with the saloon owner. “I have no complaints.”
Maybe God is getting ahold of the people of Calico and leading them away from the debauchery you represent
.

Owen frowned, brushing ash from his vest. “I saw your advertisement for long johns.”

Ned stared at him, not wanting this man to read anything in his expression. “Would you like to order some?”

Owen laughed at that. “Not a’tall, but I wondered if you know who I can ask to sew up some pretty dresses for my girls.”

He must have guessed
. “I would not ask that of anyone I know.”

“That’s too bad. I lost my best girl recently, and I don’t have anybody who can make things like she did.” Owen puffed on the cigar again and waved it in Ned’s direction. “I expect to get some extra customers tonight, with all the soldiers in town today.”

Ned’s stomach soured, but Owen’s face remained pleasant. “I’d best get back inside and see if any trouble’s brewing. Next time you head my way, first drink’s on the house.” Wiggling the cigar, he disappeared inside, the doors swishing behind him.

Patting his pockets as if searching for something, Ned forced himself to stay put until Owen was no longer visible. Shrugging his shoulders as if giving up, he spun around and headed to the town square. This new business might keep Birdie occupied for the rest of the day, and he wouldn’t hunt her down. She had needed months to accept him as an ally; there was no telling how the new girl would react to the sight of him.

Nevertheless, Ned stayed alert for any sign of Birdie. Because of the fair, not many places remained open. He sauntered around the perimeter of the square, looking for someone he could join without them asking what he had been doing. Why he was late. On one side, the livery remained open, renting vehicles like the brougham and offering free pony rides. Gerard’s General Store also kept its doors open. Ned walked by without stopping to chat.

City Hall and the jail occupied the third side of the town square, leaving only the fourth side, where the church was located. Ned’s boots scuffed the dirt, and he wondered if he could find Pastor Fairfield. He spotted Ruth wrestling with a water barrel near the church. She raised her hand in greeting. “Mr. Finnegan! So good to see you.”

“Let me carry that for you.” Ned grabbed the barrel from her. While he set it up next to the water pump outside the parsonage, he scanned the area for any sign of Birdie. The church seemed like the most logical place for her to seek sanctuary for Michal.

Ruth placed her hands on the pump. “It’s clear something is bothering you. Can I help, or do you want me to get my father for you?”

He waited for water to splash into the barrel to cover their conversation.

“Over here.” Birdie’s gentle voice broke through the silence. She crouched at the back corner of the parsonage, waving them over. Ned saw no sign of the girl who had called to her.

The summons caused no change in Ruth’s expression. She stopped pumping and headed for the kitchen door, and Ned followed.

“A friend of mine needs help,” Birdie began without preamble when they reached her. “Since your parents helped me last time, I didn’t think they would mind.” She nodded at Ned. “Thank you for keeping that man away from us. We didn’t know how we would get away.”

Ruth opened the door, and Ned held it while the two women went inside. A pale-faced girl who looked young enough to still be in the classroom waited for them in the windowless pantry. Her tawdry dress and sad eyes told a different story.

Ned shut the door, and Ruth closed the curtains over the sink. “We’re safe. No one can see inside.”

The girl shuffled forward, her eyes on Ned.

“You don’t have to worry about Mr. Finnegan. He’s never been to that place.” Birdie gestured Michal forward and held the chair for her at the table. “These are true friends, Michal.”

Michal risked a glance at each of them before her eyes sought her lap again.

Ruth looked at Birdie, inviting an explanation.

“Michal met me outside of that place today.” Birdie swallowed, as if finding it difficult to continue.

Ruth took over. “Are you involved in Birdie’s former line of work?” How she asked such a question in quiet, even tones, escaped Ned. He wouldn’t be able to put his mouth around it without sputtering.

The girl lifted her head at the question, looking at them with eyes as wide and blue as a newborn baby’s. “Oh no, ma’am.” Red slapped her face as she lowered it again. “At least not yet.”

Birdie put her arm around Michal’s shoulders, but she kept her gaze steady on the other two. “Up until tonight, that man has only asked Michal to sing.” She patted her back. “She has the voice of an angel. But today he received a special request for someone new.”

“And he said…he said”—the words seeped out from the cave Michal had made with her shoulders and head—“that tonight I would have to start earning my keep.” At that she lifted her head. “I had to get away. I ran outside, not knowing where I could go, and then I saw Miss Birdie…and I knew I was meant to go to her.”

“And I brought her here.” Birdie leaned over, pulling Michal’s head against her shoulder as the younger girl shook with unheard tears.

“And I’m so glad you did. First thing, let’s get you over to the church. Even Mr. Owen respects the church as a sanctuary. Or the sheriff does. He refused to fetch Birdie, and he won’t trouble Michal either.” Suiting action to her words, Ruth draped a cape over Michal’s shoulders before they hurried between buildings.

Birdie slipped her hand through the crook of Ned’s elbow and smiled up at him as if they were like any other couple enjoying a quiet moment at the fair. They strolled through the front door of the church, which was left unlocked during the day in case someone came in need of solitude and spiritual refreshment.

As he and Birdie stepped into the cool darkness of the sanctuary, Ned’s eyes needed a moment to adjust. The door to a back room, where mothers could retire with their infants during the service, stood open, and Ruth gestured them forward.

The furnishings of the room interested Ned. The presence of rocking chairs didn’t surprise him, but he hadn’t expected a mattress.

Birdie must have followed the direction of his surprised look. “When I first came to the church, Mrs. Fairfield brought me here. She told me that from time to time strangers in need of a quiet place to stay come to their door, and I was far from the first person to take advantage of their hospitality.”

Ruth straightened from adding a blanket and pillow to the mattress. “I hate to leave you here, Michal, but if I stay away much longer, people may wonder what happened to me. I’ll come back later, with my parents, if that’s all right with you.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Michal said.

Ruth exited the church the same way she came in, through a back door. Birdie sat on a rocker. “I’d like to stay.” She looked at Ned. “I’ll go out with you, in case anyone saw us come in together. Then I’ll return through the back door.” She smiled at Michal. Fear fought with courage in the look the girl sent Ned’s way.

“I’ll leave you alone to get settled while I wait in the sanctuary.” Ned took a seat at the front, leaning his elbows on his knees and folding his hands in prayer. God had led him deeper into Birdie’s plans than he ever intended to go. His questions felt trapped by the roof, unable to make it to heaven. He reached in the hymn rack for a Bible and leafed through a few psalms, stopping at Psalm 27: “Wait on the L
ORD
: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart; wait, I say, on the L
ORD
.”

He’d been waiting all summer, but God didn’t say how long he had to wait. His human mind wanted a limit, but maybe waiting was like forgiving a man seventy times seven: no limits given. All right.

As he leaned forward to put the Bible back in place, the front door swept open, letting in a blinding ribbon of daylight and revealing a barrel-chested man.

O
wen’s body cast a long shadow down the center aisle. “Finnegan.” The oily tone of his voice made him sound suspicious. “What are you doing here by yourself?”

A hundred different responses ran through Ned’s mind. He rose to his feet and dusted off his trousers in a habit picked up in cleaning his store. “Mr. Owen. I don’t believe I’ve seen you in church before.”

Owen scowled, and Ned clamped his mouth shut before he antagonized the man. “But of course you are welcome. I come in here from to time to have a quiet conversation with the Lord.”

“Talking with God ain’t what’s on my mind.” Owen rotated, taking in the side windows, the lectern, and piano up front. “Who plays the piano for your meetings?”

“Mrs. Fairfield is quite accomplished. We are blessed.”

“Preacher’s wife.” Owen made it sound like a cursed profession as he walked down the aisle to the piano. “My Ruby’s never played a church song in her life. She knows all the popular songs though. She only needs to hear it once and she can play it right away.” He plunked on a single key. The note rang in crystal clarity in the almost-empty room, sounding an alarm as clearly as a bell steeple.

Owen glanced at the door to the left of the lectern and headed in that direction. Did the man intend to take a tour of the church?

“If you’re looking for the preacher, he’s at the fair. I spotted him on the square while I was coming here,” Ned said.

“He’s not the one I’m after. I’m looking for one of the mares from my stable.”

Of all the euphemisms for the world’s oldest profession, “stable” was one of the worst, implying that women were animals and not men’s helpmates nor created in the image of God.

Ned’s face must have reflected his distaste, because Owen laughed. “I know you don’t take advantage of my girls, but I treat ’em good. One of them got her dander up, that’s all. I’m going to talk her back, gentle-like.” Cold, calculating blue eyes raked Ned from head to toe. “Maybe you seen her. A pretty little thing, bouncing brown curls and bright blue eyes, stands about yea tall?”

Even though Michal had looked anything but bright and bouncy, the description fit her well enough. What to do? Lie outright? Claim sanctuary?

The side door that led to the parsonage swung open, and Pastor Fairfield came in. “Mr. Owen, I saw you come in and wondered if you needed my help.”