Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel (14 page)

“No trouble, miss. Nobody was here for dinner anyway. They were all down at the fire. Couldn’t let the food go to waste.”

Curt took the tray from her hands. The smell of smoke clung to his clothing. Tiny burn holes pocked the fabric of his shirt. “Thanks, Jacob,” he said. “We’d better get back. I told people food was coming.”

When they reached the accident scene, Royal stopped the wagon at the edge of the grass and strode to the rear to open the endgate. Faith scrambled down after him and ran toward the crowd.

“We brought food,” she called, waving her arms to attract attention. “Come line up behind the wagon.”

The couple she’d helped earlier walked toward her. The woman didn’t look to be more than sixteen or seventeen. Her skirt was torn and dirty, as was her husband’s jacket.

“Thank you, miss.” She touched a hand to the bandage on her forehead. “I couldn’t think of where we’d get a meal. Our dinner basket is somewhere in all that wreckage.”

Faith patted her shoulder. “The thanks go to Mr. West. He kindly provided food from his restaurant.”

“But you brought it to all of us. You’re a blessing.” She shifted her baby to one shoulder and offered a slim hand. “I’m Amaryllis Dunsmuir—Amy for short. This is my husband, Joel, and our baby, Sophia.”

“How do,” Joel said. His straight black hair flopped forward when he nodded at her. He backhanded it off his forehead.

Faith shook hands with the two of them and led the way to the wagon at a brisk trot, talking as she went. “I’m Faith Lindberg.” She surveyed Amy’s attire. “Were you able to rescue your valise when you escaped?”

“No. The conductor was hollering, ‘Get out, get out! She’s gonna burn.’ We all just got out best we could. Kept my reticule, though.” She patted a needlepoint bag draped over her wrist, then turned to look at the smoldering cars. “Guess when they cool off Joel can pick through and see what he can find.”

Her husband grunted acknowledgment.

They reached the food-laden wagon, followed by much of the crowd. Curt stood at the left side of the endgate, folding chunks of meat between slices of bread. A stack of sandwiches waited on a tray to his right, next to a roasting pan filled with ginger cookies.

Faith sent him a grateful smile. “You always know just what to do. Thank you.”

“Glad to help. Working together, we’ll get everyone fed in short order.”

“That we will.” She handed the food to each of the Dunsmuirs. “Come see me after we finish here,” she whispered to Amy.

As soon as the couple stepped aside, another passenger crowded in. Over her shoulder, she noticed Royal lounging against the depot wall, talking to two men. She suppressed a huff of annoyance. He should be helping instead of relaxing with his cronies.

For the next half hour, Faith distributed sandwiches and ginger cookies until it appeared everyone had been served. Wiping perspiration from her forehead, she sagged against the back of the wagon.

Curt put a slice of buttered bread in her hand. “Better eat something. You look tuckered.”

“So do you.”

He hitched himself up so he sat on the wagon gate next to an empty tray. “Haven’t done anything like this since—” His hand moved to cover his scar. “Been awhile.”

She studied his face, noting the smile lines in his tanned skin. How could she ever have been afraid of him because he was scarred? Faith wanted to take his wrist, move it away from the red slash, and tell him he looked just fine. Handsome, in fact.

He flushed under her scrutiny. Hunching his left shoulder, he slid to the ground and busied himself stacking empty trays. “Best get these back to Jacob. He’ll be needing them tonight.”

She pursed her lips, feeling dismissed. Curt and his moods. Out of the corner of her eye, Faith saw Amy and Joel moving in her direction.

“You said you wanted to see us after we ate?” Amy asked. A drop of red stained her bandage.

Faith’s gaze took in both the woman and her husband. “Do you need a place to sleep? We have a spare bedroom.”

“This town is plum full of kind folks,” Joel said. “Your Reverend French done asked us already. He’s bringing his buggy directly to take us there.”

“Splendid.” She gestured at the pair’s torn clothing. “If you come by Lindberg’s Mercantile tomorrow—Reverend French can tell you where it is—I’ll get you outfitted with some clothes to replace the ones that were ruined.”

“We can pay.”

“No need.”

Tears slid over Amy’s piquant face. “God bless you. We’ll be there.”

Faith waited with them until Reverend French arrived, then crossed to the maple tree and settled on the grass next to Grandpa. Her bones ached with weariness. She leaned against her grandfather’s leg and he patted her shoulder.

“I was mighty proud of you today.” He squeezed her close. “Bet you’re ready to go home.”

“Curt said he’d hitch his buggy and take us, but I need to stop by the mercantile first.” She looked across the field, spotting Curt and his sister talking to two women dressed in widow’s weeds.

She heaved herself to her feet. “I’ll let him know we’re ready.”

As she approached, she noticed the younger of the two had raw scrapes across one side of her face. The braids in her auburn hair had come unpinned and trailed down her back. The older woman standing next to her clutched at one shoulder, where her sleeve had torn from her black silk garment. Sunlight glinted off her unnaturally red-gold hair.

Rosemary turned in her direction. “Faith, this is Miss Cassie Haddon and her mother, Eliza Haddon.”

Cassie smoothed her hair with a self-conscious motion. “I’m afraid I look a fright. My bonnet is completely ruined, and my dress”—she gestured toward the torn black lace trim across the bodice—“is in sad need of attention.” Her voice carried the softness of southern speech.

“They’ll be staying with us until the rails are repaired,” Rosemary told Faith.

Curious, she eyed the younger woman. She was introduced as
Miss
Haddon, yet she wore full mourning? Faith shook her head. This was not the time to pry.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Faith said to them, offering a smile.

Mrs. Haddon pursed her lips and sent her daughter a dark look. “I was in good hands before I left St. Louis. I should never have come on this fool’s errand.”

“Mother, please.” Cassie dipped her head and blotted the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief she removed from her sleeve. “We’re grateful to you,” she said to Rosemary. Her voice trembled. “First my fiancé, now this.” She gestured toward the wreckage, where smoke and ash twisted into the sky.

Rosemary patted her shoulder. “After a bath and a night’s rest, things will look better.”

“Maybe.” Cassie sounded doubtful.

Her mother sniffed. “I’ve lost my parasol and this sun is ruining my skin.” She turned to Curt. “I’ll wait under those trees while you fetch a carriage.”

He laid a hand on Faith’s arm. “I’ll come for you and your granddad as soon as we get these ladies settled. D’you mind waiting a few more minutes?”

“Not at all.”

After he left, Faith glanced around the area. “What happened to the injured men?” she asked Rosemary.

“Dr. Greeley found beds for them.” She made an expression of disgust. “Heaven forbid I should have anything to do with caring for anyone of the opposite gender.”

Faith held out her hand and allowed Curt to help her from the buggy, anxiety prickling when she observed that she hadn’t padlocked the doors. Flakes of ash swirled over the boardwalk as she walked.

“I’ll just empty the cash drawer and be right back,” she said to Grandpa, hoping he hadn’t noticed the unlocked store.

Curt took her arm. “Could be someone hiding inside. After something like this, you never know.” He pushed open one of the doors and preceded her.

She peered around him. Everything looked as she’d left it—

Wait a moment.

Where was the shotgun she’d laid on a counter? She whirled to check the rack.

Grooved oak shelves stared back at her, shining and vacant.

“Nooo!” She clapped a hand over her mouth and dashed along the rows of glass-topped display cases. A shelf that had held watches was bare.

Several pairs of boots were missing, as were all of the ready-made shirts.

“We’ve been robbed.” Faith spun and stared at Curt. “And it’s my fault.”

F
aith swayed with shock. “If only I’d locked the door. Two more minutes. That’s all it would have taken.” She bit down on her lower lip to keep from weeping.

Curt put his arm around her shoulder and guided her to one of the chairs next to the stove. “Sit a moment.” He pointed to the burlap curtain at the rear of the building. “That’s the storeroom?”

She nodded.

“I’ll check in the back to be sure they’re gone.”

“You think—?”

“No, but better be sure.” Shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows, he strode toward the curtain.

Faith rocked forward and wrapped her arms around her middle. Her throat prickled when a new thought struck. The cash drawer. Had she locked it?

She jerked upright, dashed to the front counter, and tugged at the drawer. It didn’t budge. To be certain, she took the key from her pocket and fitted it in the lock. The tray of coins inside hadn’t been disturbed.
Thank you for small mercies, Lord
.

“Got tired of waiting for you,” Grandpa called as he walked through the open door. “Where’s Curt?”

She drew in a breath and held it until blood pounded in her temples. “We . . . I . . . someone robbed the store while I was at the fire.”

He glanced around the display area. “Looks the same to me.”

How she wished she could pretend he was right, and just lock up and leave. Instead, she moved to his side and grasped his free hand. “All the firearms and watches are gone. They picked the most expensive things we had.”

“Didn’t steal the cookstoves, did they?”

She recognized Grandpa’s attempt to tease her and ignored him.

“Those new boots from St. Louis are missing. All the men’s shirts. I haven’t walked around to see what else.” Her voice caught. “Oh, Grandpa, I was so sure I could manage the business, and it’s been a disaster from the start.”

He hooked his cane on the edge of a counter and pulled her to his chest. “Don’t cry.” His moustache tickled her ear. “It could’ve happened to anyone. Maybe it did. Most every merchant was down at the tracks today.”

“They probably locked their stores,” she said between sobs.

“Locked or not, the thief had a choice. He chose to steal. If he wanted in here bad enough, he’d have broken our sad excuse for a lock.”

Faith took a step backward, sniffling. “You think so?” She noticed Curt walking toward them past the stoves lined down the center of the store. She swiped at her tears.

He stopped next to her. “Alley door was wide open. Whoever did this must’ve left that way.” His expression softened as he studied her. “Good thing you weren’t here. I’ve seen what men are like when they’re bent on thieving. You could’ve been hurt.”

Thankful for his caring tone, she gazed up at him. Depending on Curt in a crisis was becoming a habit.

Sheriff Cooper was waiting outside the store when she arrived the next morning. His leather vest sagged over his rangy form, mimicking the downward droop of his moustache. “Morning, Judge, Miss Faith. Got your message. Sorry I wasn’t at the jailhouse yesterday afternoon when you came by.” He removed his hat and combed his fingers through his sandy hair. “Had a disturbance at one of the saloons.”

“Today’s probably better.” She unlocked the door and preceded him inside.

Grandpa followed the sheriff and settled in one of the chairs near the woodstove. “Faith can help you more than I can.” He looked at her. “I’ll wait here in case you need me.”

She fought an impulse to kiss the top of his head in gratitude for his continued trust.

Sheriff Cooper turned in her direction. His weary expression made him look older than his years. “You’re in charge, eh? Well, let’s get on with it then. Did you write down everything that was taken?”

“I think so.” She took a folded sheet of paper from her carryall and gave it to him.

“You think? Or you know?”

“It’s hard to see something that isn’t there, Sheriff. I did my best.”

He glanced down the list and whistled. “Looks like they was smart. Nothing here would stand out in town—’cept maybe the new boots.” He fixed her with a questioning gaze. “So, how’d they get in? From the alley?”

“Probably by the front door.” Embarrassed, she ducked her head. “It wasn’t locked. When the train derailed, I just closed the door and ran to the depot. We think they left through the alley, though.”

He sighed. “Show me the back entrance.” As they walked through the room, he asked, “Anyone been hanging around lately? Looking, not buying?”

“Well, just before the crash—”

Aaron Simpkins barreled through the entrance, notebook in hand. “Miss Faith! I saw the sheriff waiting for you. What’s happened?”

She bit her lip. With the sheriff standing beside her, she couldn’t very well tell Mr. Simpkins nothing was wrong and send him on his way. Her carelessness would be public news by tomorrow.

“Some items were stolen yesterday during the commotion following the train wreck. Sheriff Cooper is looking into the matter.” She hoped that would be enough information.

“How about you, Sheriff? Any idea who did it?”

“Simpkins. I just got here.”

“But there was a burglary?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all I need.” He scribbled in his notebook. “Between the crash and this, I’ll need to print extra copies.” Addressing Faith, he asked, “Care to tell me what’s missing?”

Sheriff Cooper placed himself between Faith and the newspaperman. “Write ‘Several items of value.’ Don’t want to say more’n that.”

He scribbled again and then pivoted toward the door. “Thanks. I’ll put in a good word for you, Sheriff. Election’s coming up, you know,” he called over his shoulder.

The lawman mumbled something under his breath.

Trying not to speculate on what Mr. Simpkins would have to say about her, Faith showed the sheriff around the storeroom and told him about the man who’d been looking at shotguns before the crash. He listened to her sketchy description, shaking his head.

“I’ll ask around, but don’t get your hopes up. Too many vagrants passing through these days. Meantime, best lock the doors when you leave.”

Indignant, she drew herself up to her full height. “I always—” She swallowed the rest of the sentence. “I will.”

The bell over the door jingled when he left.

Faith leaned against the cold iron surface of a stove and closed her eyes. Images of the missing merchandise slid through her mind. A representative from Marblehead Gun Works should be here in a few days for his monthly sales call. She could replace the firearms quickly. Then she’d telegraph suppliers in St. Louis for boots and watches. As soon as the rails were repaired, they’d have everything back in stock. The losses were a temporary setback, nothing more. They’d still be able to sell the store when a buyer appeared.

She smiled at her grandfather. “Everything’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

At the sound of the bell, she turned to see the Dunsmuirs enter. Amy wore a brown paisley dress that obviously belonged to the much stouter Clarissa French. The bodice drooped on Amy’s slight form and the waist was wrapped with a long scarf. She carried Sophia over one shoulder. Joel limped beside them, wearing the coat he’d had on the previous day.

Faith drew in a breath. She’d momentarily forgotten her promise to provide replacement clothing for them. And now the men’s shirts were gone. What did she have for Mr. Dunsmuir?

It wouldn’t do to seem reluctant to help, so she pasted a pleasant expression on her face and met them at the door. “Good morning.” She glanced at the fresh strips covering Amy’s forehead. “Is your wound better today?”

“The bleeding stopped. Miss Saxon came by last night with yarrow. She said to leave the bandage on until Saturday.”

“We’ll never forget the way folks in this town took to us,” Joel said. “Couldn’t have been kinder if we was to home.”

Faith looked at him. Better get the bad news out of the way first. “I’m sorry to say we were robbed yesterday. All the men’s shirts are gone. Fortunately for Amy, the thief or thieves weren’t interested in women’s clothing.”

His eyes widened. “If that don’t beat all. You’re down at the tracks helping, and some no-account robs your store.”

She decided not to tell him she’d left the door unlocked. “We do have men’s . . . necessities.” Faith led the way to a shelf filled with masculine undergarments. “Please select whatever you need.”

“Thank you, miss. Don’t you worry none about those shirts. Reverend French gave me one of his.” He opened his jacket so she could see blue chambray tucked beneath his suspenders. “I come here today for Amy. Miz French said you have a few dresses already made up.”

She gestured toward a rack holding calico work dresses. “A local seamstress supplies them. The quality is excellent.”

“Are you sure you want to give one away?” Amy fingered a flower-printed indigo garment. “The sign says they cost—”

Faith flipped the placard facedown. “Not this morning.” She held out her arms. “I’ll hold Sophia while you see if that one would fit you.”

After the Dunsmuirs left, Faith sank into a chair next to Grandpa, trying not to think of the cost of her generosity atop the losses they’d suffered from the thieves. “I probably shouldn’t have done that,” she muttered. “Not right now. Should’ve just told them our circumstances changed.”

Grandpa patted her hand. “ ‘Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it.’ Lindberg’s Mercantile has prospered all these years following that principle. We’re not going to stop now.”

Faith nodded, her thoughts on the future. Before long the mercantile would have new owners. She wondered whether they would embrace her grandfather’s philosophy.

On Sunday afternoon, Faith rested against the soft leather upholstery while Royal guided the carriage through town. A gentle breeze ruffled the ribbons on her bonnet. After the week’s events, their planned ride came as a welcome change of pace.

As they passed a group of girls strolling on the courthouse lawn, she caught a few envious glances. She sat straighter, smiling. Royal cut a handsome figure in his white shirt, open at the collar, and black coat.

He turned toward her, eyes bright. “If you’re agreeable, I thought we’d ride out to see how many dogwoods we can find in bloom. Be a nice change from soot and ashes.”

“Splendid. As long as we’re not away for too long. A friend is staying with my grandfather and I don’t want to impose.”

“We’ll circle around to Pioneer Lake and come back. As I recall, that’s where courting couples like to go.”

“Are we a courting couple?”

“Aren’t we?” He rested his hand over hers. “You’re not like other girls, simpery and silly. I like that.”

Faith gazed ahead without responding. Other girls. That’s what Nelda Raines had said. Now he was interested in her. She didn’t want to be another conquest on his list.

He touched her hand. “Did I shock you? I apologize.”

“Not shocked. Surprised. We hardly know each other.”

“I plan to change that—beginning today. For a start, you can tell me why a pretty girl like you is working in a store. It’s not—” He cleared his throat. “Many people would say such a thing isn’t done. In fact, maybe that’s what prompted someone to rob you.”