Where the Wind Blows (7 page)

“How do, Jessie?” Garth said, as he wiped his hands on a rag looped over his belt. His eyes twinkled. “You’re looking
mighty
pretty today.”

“Hello, Garth.” Jessie tipped her chin up, looking him in the face. “I’m just fine.” She disliked how his powerful gaze always seemed to be dancing the two-step from the top of her head to her boot-clad feet. She felt like a prized steer at an auction. It was irritating.

“Where’s Nathan? Is he in town with you today?” He stepped closer, bringing with him the sour odor of horse manure and sweat. Her senses twitched.

“No, he isn’t,” Jessie said evenly, a flash of anger threatening. She knew why he was asking about Nathan. Garth, in his ingratiating way, had several times voiced his disapproval of her walking into town alone. She dreaded having to tell him she was once again unescorted. But it was unavoidable—and none of his business anyway!

Garth looked as if he was mentally counting to ten. Then he extended his hands, palms up, in a silent plea. “Mrs. Strong…Jessie,” he drawled. “It’s
not safe
for you to venture this far alone. Why can’t you get that through your pretty little head?”

“You’ve said that before, Mr. Shepard, and I thank you for your concern, but I’m not alone.” She waved her arm dramatically.

“I know,” Garth replied, backing down. “God’s by your side.”

“That’s right. It’s not that far, and when one lives alone, it
can’t be helped. Besides, I do enjoy it. Winter won’t wait forever, and sometimes there’re things I need.”

Jessie glanced about to see if they were drawing attention. With his reputation, she didn’t want to start people talking. “Nice to see you, Mr. Shepard, but I must be on my way.”

Disappointment clouded the blacksmith’s face. “My buckboard is hitched. Let me know when you’re done and I’ll be happy to give you a ride home.”

“That’s very kind of you. But Mrs. Hollyhock sees to it that my purchases are delivered. Thank you all the same.”

The bell above the door tinkled as Jessie stepped into the mercantile. Wonderful warm air enveloped her, and the tantalizing aromas of coffee, spice, and leather wafted about. Oh, it smelled so good. So much better than Garth! She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, savoring every sensation.

“Lord a’mighty, child, you’re a sight for sore eyes!” Tiny Mrs. Hollyhock, clad from head to toe in brown and blue calico, came bustling over to Jessie, wrapping her in a bony embrace.

Jessie felt a lump in her throat as she basked in the attention. During the time she and Nathan had lived in Valley Springs, the little bird of a woman had come to mean a great deal to her.

“How are you, child? Is that husband of yours treating you good?” Mrs. Hollyhock’s eyes twinkled. “You got a bun in your oven yet?” There was nothing in the world Mrs. Hollyhock loved more than babies.

Jessie laughed. “I’m just fine, Mrs. Hollyhock.” The old woman took Jessie’s hands in her own and held them wide, getting a good look at her. “It is so good to see you. I’ve missed you very much.”

Mrs. Hollyhock’s eyes narrowed, and her expression
dropped. “I see that smile on your face, but it looks to me as if you’ve been worryin’ yourself about somethin’, girlie. Go on, out with it.”

“Everything’s fine. Really! I’m just here to say hello to my dear friend and to pick up some things I need. Here’s my list.” Jessie handed the list to Mrs. Hollyhock with as much aplomb as she could muster.

Mrs. Hollyhock smiled, but concern shone in her eyes. “Not much on this list, honey, for as long as you’ve stayed away. Sure this is enough?”

Jessie nodded. It was all she could afford, with her dwindling resources.

“How ’bout a sassafras ta wet your throat? It’s on the house.”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, I know ya like tea. Help yourself to a cup and some tea cakes over on the confection counter. I’ll only be a minute, and then we’ll sit and have ourselves a good, long chat. If ya want ta read my Bible, it’s where I always keep it. I know how ya like that.”

Mrs. Hollyhock scurried about, plucking dried apples and other goods off the shelf, scooping flour, measuring a small amount of sugar, a small amount of coffee. Jessie saw her slip some sticks of candy, some peppermint balls, a handful of sours, and something else secretly into her sack. It was a ritual she’d started the first time Jessie had come to town alone.

Sipping from her steaming cup, Jessie looked eagerly through the dry-goods section. She longed to buy some pretty material for Sarah. It’d be nice to stitch her up a new dress and perhaps a little night shift, too. She ran her fingers along a satin trimming that hung loosely from a high shelf cluttered with ribbons and bows.

After winter, she promised herself, if she had any money left, she’d buy a few things for the child. For now, though,
she had to make her money stretch as far as possible. Food was her only concern.

She stopped, the ribbon held between her finger and thumb. Was this what her mother had felt? Had she wanted nice things for her daughter, but was unable to provide them for her? With Sarah now depending on her, Jessie understood a little better the power of a mother’s love. She knew she’d do anything for her.

The bell above the door sounded, and Jessie turned to see who was entering. Two men ambled in. Going without bathing long enough to get into their condition was unthinkable to Jessie. Before she could retreat to the back of the store, she found herself the object of their attention.

“Look who’s here, Lonnie,” one man said, his grin revealing a row of broken and missing teeth.

The other man swung around, looking her way. His oily black hair glistened on his scalp as the tough licked his lips. “Why, it’s Mrs. Strong.”

Jessie tried to go about her business as calmly as possible, pretending not to hear their conversation. She couldn’t imagine how they knew her name. She set her teacup down and scooted around the corner of the aisle, picking up a copy of
Farmer’s Home Journal.
She studied it intently. Lonnie came up silently behind her and swatted her bottom. “Hey, girl, we was talkin’ about you.”

Jessie whirled. Her arm came up defensively. The man grabbed it and squeezed painfully. She struggled, trying desperately to free herself.

“Look, Joe. She’s mad enough to chew splinters. I guess she figures I ain’t good enough fer her.” Yanking her close, he leered unpleasantly. His rotten breath made her gag. “Come on. Give me a kiss.”

Mrs. Hollyhock hurried around the counter to Jessie’s defense. “You sidewinder, get out of my store.” She snatched
the feather duster from her apron pocket and shook it in his face as if it were a sword.

“This store is for good, decent folk, not tramps like you,” Mrs. Hollyhock spouted angrily, but Jessie could see the fear in her eyes.

The man named Lonnie viciously lashed out, hitting Mrs. Hollyhock on the shoulder and knocking the duster from the old woman’s grasp. A shriek ripped from her throat as she fell against the cracker barrel and curled to the floor. Her glasses bounced from her face, slid across the wood floor, and wedged themselves into a crack in the wall.

Horrified at the sight of Mrs. Hollyhock motionless on the floor, Jessie balled her fist and punched her attacker in the face with every ounce of strength she possessed. There was a crunching sound. Blood gushed from his nose. When his grip loosened, Jessie wrenched her wrist free and ran to her friend.

Lonnie drew back, astounded. But only for a moment. Then he slowly started forward, rage glittering in his eye. The palm of his hand covered one side of his face, and blood was everywhere.

“Virgil, quick!” Mrs. Hollyhock screamed. “Run down and get Garth. There’s trouble in the store.” The slam of the back door was followed by the sound of running feet.

“Come on, brother. Let’s go,” Joe called. He’d been watching the interchange with amusement. “I don’t want to be tangling with that bull of a blacksmith.”

Lonnie stopped his approach, but didn’t leave until dragged by the other man through the store. “You ain’t seen the last of me, sugar pie,” he called out angrily.

The back door slammed. Jessie helped Mrs. Hollyhock up and sat her on the cracker barrel. She retrieved her friend’s glasses and gently slid them back into place.

“You’ve had a bad scare by them smelly, no-account curs,” the old woman said shakily. “Why, I’d like to skin ’em alive, manhandling you that way.” Mrs. Hollyhock tried to stand, but her arms and legs shook so violently, she swayed precariously to one side.

“Don’t you dare get up,” Jessie scolded her gently, putting her back on the barrel. “How do you feel? Does anything hurt?”

Jessie pulled a chair close when her own legs began to wobble. She put her arms around the skinny old woman and held her close. “You sure you’re okay?” she whispered close to her ear. Mrs. Hollyhock nodded but stayed in her embrace.

Jessie inhaled deeply, willing her heart to slow down. The thought of that horrid face so close to hers made her shudder. She closed her eyes, trying to force his image from her mind. His fetid breath seemed to linger in the air, coiling around her.

The door burst open forcefully, causing a picture to fall from the wall and crash to the floor, glass breaking everywhere. Garth rushed in, his shirt hanging open and a horseshoe still in his hand. He dropped to his knees in front of Jessie, his hands on both sides of the chair arms.

“Did they hurt you, Jessie?” His face was dark with anger and his voice trembling menacingly. “Because if they did, I’ll hunt them down for the animals they are!”

“No, no, Garth. I’m all right. Just a little shaken up,” Jessie replied. “But they hurt Mrs. Hollyhock. Knocked her down. Can you help me get her upstairs?”

“Here, honey, I’m fine now. All I needed was a second to catch my breath,” Mrs. Hollyhock said in a wobbly voice. She looked as if she’d aged twenty years in those few seconds.

Garth dropped his hands and stood, looking around the store. “They gone?”

Jessie nodded.

“Virgil, help me take the missus here upstairs. No arguments, Violet,” he said when Mrs. Hollyhock started to protest. “Then get Jessie’s things packed up. I’m taking her home.”

Chase awoke by degrees, his hand testing the wound on his head. Sometime during the night the bandage had fallen off. No matter—he didn’t need it anymore.

He’d lain awake worrying over Jessie and Sarah and the mess he’d created. Near dawn he’d finally fallen asleep, and now he was having difficulty coming out of it.

As he tucked in his rumpled, slept-in shirt, he noticed he wasn’t dizzy anymore. After a strong cup of coffee, he’d face Jessie and apologize for the events of last night. He’d give her Nathan’s pay and get ready to depart. Everything was taken care of with the adoption, and he felt a lot better now that Gabe was here. In his gut he didn’t feel the Indians were a real threat, because Jessie had been out here long enough, and they were used to having her around. Most likely, they were watching out for her. The big question remained: who’d shot him, and why?

Pouring a cup of coffee, Chase wondered where everyone was. He would’ve been more concerned had he not heard voices ten minutes earlier.

Gabe entered with Sarah held high on his shoulders. She had a tight hold on his hair, but the boy didn’t seem to mind.

“Where’ve you been?” Chase asked from his chair at the table.

“Sarah needed a trip to the necessary, so I gave her a piggyback. Easier than putting her boots on.”

“Where’s Jessie?” Chase asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

“Didn’t you see the note?”

Like waking up nose to nose with a rattler, Chase was instantly alert. Chastising himself, he realized with dismay that he should’ve kept an eye on her, even if she didn’t want him to.

He snatched up the scrap of paper lying on the table. It was impossible to make any sense whatsoever out of the little
lines and dots going this way and that. As he concentrated on the letters, the note began to quiver.

Angrily he thrust the note at Gabe and jammed his fingers through his hair. “Well?” he almost shouted.

Gabe stared.

“What’s it say?”

Gabe looked back at the note.

“It says Jessie went to town for supplies. Says not to worry, that she’ll be back in time to fix supper.”

“That it?”

Gabe cleared his throat. “It asks me to take care of you and Sarah.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up as soon as you read this?”

Flinching, the boy took a step back. “I thought you knew. That you two had talked about it before.”

Chase reminded himself to go easy. It was his fault Jessie had left. Not the boy’s.

“How long do you think she’s been gone?” he asked more civilly.

Gabe shrugged. “She must’ve left around sunup, because I woke up not long after, and she was already gone.”

Chase went quickly to the door and swung it open. The sun was nowhere to be seen as large, dark clouds covered the sky.

How in the world did I sleep so late?

He went straight to the barn, threw his saddle on his horse, and was mounted within minutes. Cody, fresh from no use for a few days, humped his back and pinned his ears.

“Quit it.” Chase gave him a slight taste of his spur to get the gelding’s attention. The horse humped up again, this time honestly trying to throw Chase off. Chase rode it out with practiced ease, then collected the animal while scanning the area.

Jessie’s small, booted footprints in the dampened dust of
the road were easy to see. He started after her at a groundcovering trot, a pace he knew Cody could keep up for miles.

After about a mile, Chase ventured off the road to the top of a knoll to survey the surrounding area. The jingling of a harness came from around the hill, where the road went next.

Loping Cody to some trees, Chase peered through the brush, as a buckboard with two people approached. There was a man and Jessie. She was looking at her escort as he said something to her.

She laughed.

Chase, too far away to make out any of the conversation, swore under his breath.