Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel (13 page)

She walked to the door and whistled for Bodie. Rosemary’s collie pattered into the house, sniffing around the table in the entry before trotting into the parlor and flopping down on the rug at his owner’s feet.

Rosemary reached down and stroked the dog’s head. “I plan to have your grandfather help me plant flowers this afternoon. We can’t play chess all day. It will do him good to have work for his hands.”

“You’re heaven-sent. Does Curt know you’re here?”

“Absolutely. We discuss all our decisions.”

Faith studied her hands, trying to imagine her life had Maxwell lived. What a comfort it would be to have a brother to share her plans. Until Grandpa agreed, she’d have to proceed alone and hope for the best.

Knowing Grandpa was safe with Rosemary, Faith gathered her courage after closing the mercantile and walked the two blocks from the store to the Lafayette Hotel. She carried the scrap of paper with Alonzo McGuire’s name in her carry-all. She needed to add their names to a member list for the departing wagon train the Potters had mentioned. End of May was shaving the time a little close, since the
Noble Springs Observer
wouldn’t publish her advertisement until Saturday. Surely a buyer would come forward right away. Who wouldn’t want to operate a well-established business in a growing town?

As she reached the entrance to the hotel, a train rolled into the station, bell clanging. Smoke poured from the stack and trailed along the top of the cars. Faith paused a moment to watch, wishing the rails stretched all the way to Oregon. Judging from the number of workers reported to live at the rooming house behind West & Riley’s, construction was progressing. But she couldn’t wait the years it would take for completion.

Faith pushed open the door of the hotel. Plush red lounge chairs in the lobby looked dusty in the late afternoon light. A couple of travelers sat in a corner hunched over a card game, smoke from their cigars smelling like burning hair. She waved her hand under her nose to dispel the rank odor.

The clerk leaned over the registration counter and eyed her carryall. “Is that all the luggage you have, ma’am?”

Heat rose up her cheeks at his suspicious tone. “I’m not a guest. Please, may I ask you to tell Mr. McGuire that Miss Lindberg would like to speak with him for a moment?”

Smirking, the clerk tugged at his chin whiskers. “You can ask, miss, but he’s not here. You’ll likely find him at West & Riley’s Restaurant. It’s near onto suppertime.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll give him a message if you want.”

Faith’s grumbling stomach told her it was beyond suppertime. “No, thank you.” She walked to the door, sensing his gaze following her.

Setting sun lit the western clouds with crimson fire. Faith squared her shoulders and trudged six blocks east to the restaurant. She glanced at the horizon from time to time, hoping she could accomplish her goal and arrive home before full dark.

Aromas of fried beefsteak and burned biscuits enveloped her when she entered the crowded eatery. She halted inside the door, quailing at the sight of a roomful of men sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at long tables piled with heaping platters of food. How could she find Mr. McGuire without making a complete fool of herself?

Jacob West made his way toward her, weaving between the tables. His white apron was splotched with dark stains that Faith hoped were from today’s meal. “Miss Lindberg, isn’t it? Are you here for supper?” He sounded incredulous. Using the back of his hand, he wiped sweat from his swarthy skin, dislodging dark curls at his hairline.

“No.” Certainly not, she wanted to add, but refrained. “I was told I might find a Mr. McGuire here.”

“That’s him over there.” The restaurant owner pointed at a narrow-shouldered man wearing a black slouch hat.

“Thank you.” Faith drew a deep breath. Any man who would leave his hat on while eating was no gentleman. Her courage wavered.

“McGuire. Lady to see you.”

Stopped in the act of turning toward the door, Faith pasted a confident expression on her face and moved in the wagon master’s direction. He scraped his chair away from the table and unfolded to a height of well over six feet.

“I’m Alonzo McGuire. What is it you want?”

Some of the diners paused to watch the encounter.

Faith swallowed. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. She dipped a slight curtsy. “I’m Miss Lindberg. My grandfather and I wish to be part of your company when you leave for Oregon.”

“You’re funnin’ me. Did one of you put her up to this?” He raised an eyebrow and glared at the men around him.

“I’m quite serious.” Faith took a step closer. “I know you’re leading a company at the end of this month. We want to be included.” Her neck felt the strain of looking up into his stern face.

“Go ahead, take ’em,” one of the men called. “Least she’d add somethin’ good lookin’ to your journey.”

“Sorry, miss.”

“You don’t look sorry.” As soon as the words passed her lips, she wished she could retract them. “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to—”

“I ain’t taking no purty little girl and an old man. Last time I did, the old boy died and the rest of us ended up looking after a hothouse flower all the way to Oregon. Then she wanted to turn around and have me take her back to Missouri.” He snorted. “No, miss, you and your grandpap ain’t going with me.”

Faith’s cheeks burned at the general guffaws around the room. She lifted her chin. “You’re not the only person who knows the trail. I’ll find someone else.” She spun on her heel and stalked from the restaurant, catching a sympathetic light in Jacob West’s eyes as she left.

The sun dangled low on the horizon, sending fingers of gloom past closed businesses. Faith marched toward home, fuming. She’d pay a teamster to take them across—all she had to do was find the right one.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught movement in the narrow space between buildings. She slowed and peered into the shadows. Outlines of two men, hats pulled low, showed in the dimness. Blood pounded in her ears. She should never have paused to look. Now they knew she’d seen them.

Conscious of the day’s receipts in her carryall, she whipped around the corner onto Second Street. One block and she’d be at the Saxons’ house.
Lord, please let Curt be home
. Footsteps echoed behind her. She smelled the odor of tobacco smoke mixed with unwashed bodies. Lifting her skirt to her boot tops, she raced along the deserted walk. When she reached the corner, she flew from the boardwalk and dashed toward safety without pausing.

“Faith!” Curt rose from the top step of the porch and ran to meet her. “What’s the matter? What are you doing here?” He wrapped an arm across her shoulders. “Come. Sit.” He guided her to the porch.

She placed her hand over his and rested her cheek against his chest. He felt warm and strong and safe. “I prayed you’d be here,” she said between gasps for air. “Two men followed me.”

“I don’t see anyone now.”

“They must have ducked into the alley.” Her voice rose. “They were right behind me.”

He took her hand, stroking her fingers with his thumb. “What’d they look like?”

“I don’t know. Shadows. That’s all I saw.”

Curt studied her for a moment. “Why are you in this part of town? I was just going to fetch Rosemary. Thought you’d be home by now.”

“I should’ve been. I’ve been busy making a fool of myself at West & Riley’s.” Blinking at the tears that stung her eyelids, Faith told him of her stop at the hotel and subsequent meeting with Alonzo McGuire. “Then I saw those men and couldn’t think of anything but finding you.”

His face softened. He wiped tears from her cheek with one finger. “I’m here.”

T
he following morning Faith stepped out the door with Grandpa at her side. “Are you sure you want to come with me today?”

“First you fuss when I stay home, now you fuss when I leave. Can’t ever make a woman happy.”

“I’m happy. Just surprised.”

“That little Rosemary like to wore me out digging holes for her flowers.” He waved rolled manuscript pages in the direction of freshly turned soil. “Thought I’d rest up and work on my book.”

It had been too dark the previous evening when Curt brought Faith home for her to appreciate the work Rosemary and Grandpa had done. Columbines nodded in beds freshly spaded on both sides of the steps. Their scalloped leaves swayed the morning breeze. Geranium starts were scattered in a pleasing pattern among plantings of daisies. On one side of the porch, Rosemary had transplanted a climbing rose.

Faith smiled at her grandfather. “It looks like she brought half her flower garden over here.”

“She claims she overplanted and had to get rid of these.” He flexed his shoulders. “Been a long time since I was acquainted with the working end of a shovel. Felt kind of good. Don’t tell Rosemary, though. She’ll put me to digging again.”

“It’ll be our secret.”

Curt walked out to greet them when they reached the livery. “Morning, Judge, Faith.” His eyes lingered on her carryall. “You going straight to the bank?”

“As soon as Rosemary comes in.” She wished she hadn’t told him about bringing the cash home with her in the evenings. She didn’t need him directing her day.

“No one’s going to bother Faith with me around,” Grandpa said, brandishing his cane.

Curt’s eyes crinkled at the corners. Faith could see he was trying not to grin. Why hadn’t she ever noticed how appealing he was when he smiled? Maybe because she’d so seldom seen him wearing a happy expression.

“Thank you again for . . . everything.”

“Glad to help.” This time his smile broke free, wrapping her in warmth. For a moment she was tempted to reach for his hand, then chastised herself for being silly. He was only being a good friend.

When Faith returned from the bank, Rosemary had one customer waiting while she helped a woman with a fabric selection. “Glad you’re back.” She pointed to a man standing next to the plows. “This gentleman wants your grandfather to assist him.”

Faith tied her apron around her waist and tucked her carry-all behind a counter. “Grandpa is busy with other matters,” she said, walking toward the customer. Something about him seemed familiar. She shook her head. The memory would come to her. “Are you interested in buying a plow?”

“Naw.” His gaze darted over the goods on display. “I need me one of them shotguns. Figger a man can tell me more about it than you can.”

Faith chose the most expensive shotgun from the rack and swung it up to her right shoulder. Sighting along the barrel, she aimed at the remaining pieces of tea leaf china arranged atop a counter, then opened the breech. “This model has served well for birds and deer. Take a look.”

He stared at the weapon in her hands. “How would a little thing like you know about a big ol’ gun?”

She met his gaze without flinching. “Hunting with my brother. Do you want—”

A deafening crash shook the building, followed by a series of equally loud reverberations. Faith left the shotgun on a counter and dashed to the front window.

Concussions pounded through the livery. Curt ran outside and saw an ominous pillar of umber-tinged smoke rising from the south. Within moments, both church and fire bells began clanging.

“Gotta go,” Rip called from the doorway. “That’s the call for volunteers.”

Curt nodded. “Be right behind you, soon’s I settle the horses.” He sprinted to the inside of the stable, where the animals whinnied and kicked at the doors of their stalls. The roan mare was first in the row, so he paused and stroked her neck. “Quiet now. Nothing to worry about.” She calmed under his fingers. Moving through the building, he gentled each horse in turn.

After closing the rear doors, he stepped out front and secured the building. The cloud of smoke had doubled and now covered the downtown area. Traffic along the street increased to a steady flow of volunteers and gawkers.

Curt’s memory transported him to the remains of a burned settlement. His assignment had been to search through the rubble to be sure no enemy soldiers were waiting in ambush. Sour odors gagged him as he made his way through the ruins.

He slumped against the stable doors, rough-sawn wood clutching at his hair.
Lord, deliver me
. He forced himself to open his eyes. The odors changed to coal and wood smoke drifting from the scene of the fire.

Judge Lindberg had gone to the mercantile that morning, along with Faith and Rosemary. What had happened to them? How much time had he wasted reliving the past? He broke into a run, heading south toward the source of the alarm.

Within a block of the stable he saw flames leaping behind the hotel and railroad depot. Bells continued to clang discordantly. Panting, he paused at the edge of a crowd gathered near the tracks, then pushed his way closer. A locomotive, coal car, tender, and baggage car lay on their sides to the south of the rails. Fire roared from the engine compartment, lapping at the wreckage, while the ruptured tender spewed water uselessly onto the ground. The remaining cars had piled into each other and now tilted at crazy angles. The carcass of a black cow sprawled a dozen feet from the front of the train.

A fire brigade was in high gear, ferrying water to the flames. “You, there. If you’re able-bodied, get yourself a bucket.” Royal Baxter wiped his forehead, leaving a black smear behind. Without waiting for Curt’s response, he swung around, jogging toward the cars that remained upright on the track.

Curt clenched his teeth at the man’s imperious command. The sheriff should be the one giving orders, not some jumped-up veteran claiming to have been a major in an anonymous regiment. Men carrying water jostled past him.

Travelers stood on the platform holding baggage and gaping at the flames. Shock wrote itself across their faces.

“Get back,” Royal yelled. He pointed to a group of townspeople gathered across the street. “You’ll be safer over thataway.”

Curt looked in the direction Royal pointed and saw Judge Lindberg and Rosemary. Where was Faith? Alarmed, he surveyed the area. He took a few steps toward town, thinking she’d stayed at the mercantile, then spotted her among the passengers. She had her arm linked through that of a woman with a gashed forehead. A man carrying a wailing infant limped beside them as they made their way toward Rosemary.

Relieved, he ran to the pump next to the hotel and filled an empty bucket. Water slopped over the rim as he crowded into the line.

“Let the cars go,” Royal ordered the volunteers when they reached the derailment. “Save the engine.”

Steam hissed when Curt flung liquid into the firebox. Black appeared where coals had been subdued. Returning to the pump, he noticed other townspeople had followed Faith’s example and were tending to the injured. Blankets had been spread in an empty field directly across from the depot. Children sobbed, clinging to their parents. Dr. Greeley’s distinctive maroon buggy was tied to a hitching rail, but Curt couldn’t pick him out of the crowd.

By mid-afternoon, the remains of the baggage car smoldered next to twisted rails. Broken bones and lacerations were the worst of the passengers’ injuries. However, lodging had to be found for the forty or so travelers and crew who were stranded in Noble Springs.

Sweating and filthy, Curt made his way to the makeshift hospital area. He found Judge Lindberg seated on a packing container under a maple tree. He flopped down on the ground and rested his back against the wooden crate. “I don’t see Faith or my sister. You here by yourself?”

“Faith went to West & Riley’s. You watch. She’ll be back with enough food for everyone.”

Curt surveyed the size of the crowd. “I’d better go help. She can’t carry all that alone.”

“She’s not alone. That Baxter fellow borrowed a wagon and took her over there.”

“Did the cooperage close for the day?” As soon as Curt voiced the question, he realized how churlish he sounded.

Judge Lindberg gave him a knowing grin. “There’s nothing stopping you from lending a hand. Don’t want Baxter to think he’s got a claim on her.”

“Good idea.” Curt brushed dried grass and ashes from his trousers. “I’ll find Rosemary first and tell her where you are.” He hoped the judge wouldn’t realize why he wanted his sister nearby. With this many people around, he didn’t want to risk having the older man wander off.

“She’s over there somewhere. Went to help Doc Greeley.”

Curt strode in the direction indicated until he spotted the doctor facing Rosemary. A man with a bandaged head lay on a blanket at her feet. Next to him a second man sat hunched over, clutching his arm close to his body.

“Leave them be,” Dr. Greeley said to Rosemary. His white goatee bounced with rage. “I won’t have a female touching men’s bodies. It’s indecent.”

She glared at him, her face crimson. “You’d rather let them suffer until you have time to tend to their injuries? What’s decent about that?”

“Don’t sass me, young lady.”

“I’ve had enough of you and your archaic opinions. I’ll go where I’m needed.” She stalked toward a man bleeding from a gash on his shoulder.

Curt caught up with her. “Thought you were through nursing the sick.”

She waved her hand at the injured passengers. “I can’t just stand by.”

He surveyed the wreckage, the crowd, the wounded. For the first time since returning from the war, he allowed himself to hope he’d left his demons behind. “Neither can I.”

Faith stood at a worktable in West & Riley’s kitchen slicing bread while Curt and Royal loaded baskets of food into the wagon. Both men were sweat-stained and sooty. Was it her imagination, or did Curt do twice the work while Royal lingered, instructing the harassed cook?

Jacob West entered from the storeroom and stopped at Royal’s side. “It’ll probably be a couple weeks before the track’s repaired. If the hotel fills up, I’ve got two empty beds over at the rooming house.”

“Good. I’ll spread the word.” Royal straightened his shoulders, looking important.

Faith stacked the bread on a tray and covered it with a towel. “This is all we need for now,” she said, smiling over at Jacob. “It’s so kind of you to provide this meal.”