Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel (20 page)

Rosemary arrived at the mercantile soon after the doors were unlocked, Bodie at her heels. She took one look at Faith and asked, “You have raccoon eyes this morning. Were you out late with Mr. Baxter?” A teasing smile played over her lips.

“Nothing so romantic.” Faith leaned against a counter with her arms folded. “On the way home from the performance we passed the courthouse, and there was Grandpa standing by the door, thinking he had a case to hear. Royal brought him home.” She shuddered. “What if I hadn’t seen him? Who knows where he’d have gone.”

Rosemary hugged her, then stepped back. “I’m so sorry. Where is he now?”

“Working on his memoir, just like always. He’s fine. He doesn’t remember a thing about last night.” She chewed her lower lip. “Royal suggested sending him away to the asylum in Fulton, but I could never do that.”

“Of course you couldn’t. Don’t even consider the idea.”

“That’s all I did last night. I considered his suggestion and then tried to think of how I could manage alone if Grandpa gets worse.”

“You know things always look bleakest after midnight. You’re not alone. Remember that. Curt and I are very fond of your grandfather.” Rosemary put a finger to her cheek. “I’ll brew him a special tea that’s said to help memory. Curt can bring a jarful over this evening.”

Some of the tension left Faith’s shoulder muscles. “The Lord must have sent you into my life. You’re a gift.”

“Fiddlesticks.” Nevertheless, Rosemary looked pleased. She went to the counter where she’d placed her belongings when she entered and drew a canvas bag from her carryall. “If you want a real blessing, Curt has managed to collect from several more names on the list you drew up.” A frown crinkled her forehead. “Remember the man you talked to the other day who said your grandfather gave him merchandise free of charge?”

Faith nodded.

“Curt has spoken with three such people. He doesn’t understand why their debts were listed.”

“I don’t either.” She smiled to herself. Solving the mystery would give her a legitimate reason to spend more time with Rosemary’s brother. She’d raise the subject when he brought the tea.

She took the bag from Rosemary and counted the contents. Curt’s tidy handwriting listed each name and amount. After making ledger entries, Faith consulted her totals. “We can order more stock now. Boots, some firearms—not all, but some—and maybe two or three watches. I can’t wait to see the shelves fill up again.” She clapped her hands in delight.

Bodie jumped to his feet and woofed when she clapped. Faith giggled. “This is a happy day. Seeing the supplies decline has been almost as sad as Grandpa’s spells. If the store prospers, maybe he will too.”

“That’s certainly possible.”

Faith grabbed her reticule and dropped the canvas bag inside. “I’ll go to the bank with this right now. If Grandpa comes in, please tell him I’ll be right back.” She hugged Rosemary and dashed out the door.

The porch roof brought welcome shade from a day that promised to be a scorcher. With the weather this hot in mid-June, she dreaded the prospect of August. Faith hooked her reticule over one finger. Using her free hand, she dug in her pocket for a handkerchief to dab her forehead. As she passed the alley between the mercantile and the newspaper office, someone stepped from the shadows and jostled her.

A man’s voice said, “’Scuze me.”

Faith whirled to see who’d nearly knocked her off her feet, and saw nothing but his back as he ran down the alley toward the railroad tracks. Her breath caught in her throat.

He’d taken her reticule.

F
aith sat in front of the sheriff’s desk, swiping tears from her cheeks. “I told you, all I saw was his back as he ran down the alley. He had a hat on so I couldn’t see his hair.”

Sheriff Cooper leaned back in his chair, his thin face weary. “Been too much of this lately. Not sure I want to stand for reelection.” He tugged at a corner of his drooping moustache. “How d’you suppose the feller knew you carried all that money?”

“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he just thought he was stealing my reticule.” She sniffled. “Imagine his surprise.”

“Who knew you’d be going to the bank this morning?”

“Just my helper, Miss Saxon.”

“Ah, the Saxons.” He scribbled something on a scrap of paper. “It’s safe to say if she knew, so did her brother.”

Anger flared through her. “If you’d stop trying to find Mr. Saxon responsible for our misfortunes, you might have time to catch the real thieves.”

“Miss Faith, you forget yourself. I’ve been sheriff here for a dozen years. I know dishonesty when I see it.”

“Apparently you do not. Good day, Sheriff.”

Faith marched from the jailhouse, spine rigid, mind whirling. There had to be a way to find whoever had taken her reticule. Could he be the same person who robbed the store? And what about the intruder Curt had surprised last week?

Clouds piled overhead, adding to the stickiness of the morning. One thing she knew, she needed to warn Curt of the sheriff’s suspicions.

That evening, she kept watch out the parlor window for Curt’s promised arrival with the tea for Grandpa. A light rain fell, glistening on the pink petals of the climbing rose twining through the porch rail.

She stepped out into the warm twilight, settling into a wicker chair on the covered porch to wait. Moisture plinked from the roof with a musical note, joining drops from the roses and the maple tree to fill the air with an orchestral chorus. Faith closed her eyes, allowing the soothing sounds to cleanse her mind of worry.

She stood when she heard footsteps on the walkway, smiling as Curt approached carrying two jars bound at their tops with a wire handle. Strands of his dark brown hair visible beneath his hat looked almost black with dampness. Once he climbed the porch steps, he shrugged off his oiled coat and draped it with his hat over the chair she had just vacated. “What a nice welcome. I expected you’d be inside where it’s dry.”

“It’s not wet here under the roof.” She took the jars from him. “I love to listen to the rain. The sound is like tinkling keys on a piano.”

An expression of pleasure crossed his face. “We’re kindred spirits, then. Rain always acts as a lullaby for me on restless nights.”

Faith led the way into the house, appreciating the warmth of his closeness. A dozen thoughts tumbled through her mind. Foremost was the importance of warning him about the sheriff.

Then somehow she needed a private moment to talk to him about the customers who claimed to have received merchandise as a gift.

Grandpa waited for them in the entry hall. “Faith said you were coming. I’ve got the chessboard ready on the dining table.”

“In a moment, sir,” Curt said. “Rosemary gave me specific instructions about these teas. As soon as I pass her words on to Faith, I’ll come and checkmate you.”

Grandpa guffawed. “We’ll see about that.”

Curt followed Faith into the kitchen. After she placed the jars on the table, he unwound the wire binding them together. Each container had a square of paper tied around the zinc lid. One had the words “Judge Lindberg” written on top, the other said “Faith.”

“What did Rosemary send for me?” Faith lowered her voice. “I thought the tea was to help Grandpa’s memory.”

“This one is.” Curt pushed the first glass jar toward her. “Rosemary said to mix it half and half with hot water and give him a cupful with his evening meal.”

Faith eyed the greenish-amber liquid. “How long before it works on him?”

“She said to give it time. When you run out, she’ll make some more.” He lifted the second tea so that the lamplight made the lemon-colored contents appear golden. “This will help you sleep. Warm a cup at bedtime.” He took her shoulders and turned her to face him.

“She told me about the money being stolen this morning. I was sorry to hear the news, after all the work we’ve done.”

Tears stung her eyes at his caring tone. “That’s not the worst of it,” she said in a soft voice. “The sheriff thinks you’re responsible.”

His fingers tightened. “We’ll have to prove him wrong.” His voice held an edge of steel.

“But how?”

“Are you two finished whispering in there?” Grandpa called. “Time’s a’wastin’.”

Curt released her. “May I come ‘courting’ Monday?” He smiled. “We can go for a walk after supper.”

“I’m afraid to leave Grandpa. Did Rosemary tell you about Friday night?”

“She did. Told me the circumstances too. Let’s try it anyway. We won’t be away for as long as you were.” His voice carried a hint of condemnation.

Faith leaned against a counter in the mercantile listening to a train rumble out of the station. A glance at the clock told her it was close to noon. Seven more hours and Curt would come to the house to escort her on a stroll around town. Thinking of his caring ways brought a smile to her lips.

She gave herself a shake. She shouldn’t be daydreaming about Curt when Royal was the man courting her. Or so he said. She hadn’t seen him since the night of the musicale.

The door to the mercantile opened so slowly that the bell gave a single clink and fell silent. Amy Dunsmuir stood in the entrance, hugging baby Sophia to her chest. Her pale skin looked almost translucent.

Faith hastened to her side. “What a pleasant surprise. Is your husband not with you?”

“Joel’s dead.” Tears filled the young woman’s eyes.

“No! It’s not possible. You were here just a few weeks ago. What happened?”

Amy swayed and Faith put an arm around her waist and guided her to a chair. “Rest a moment. I’ll bring you some water.”

She moved behind the counter and poured from a covered jar into a waiting glass. “Rosemary Saxon brings ginger water for me each morning. She claims it helps avoid cramping in the summer heat.” Faith placed the filled glass on top of the checkerboard, thankful that the woodstove regulars had departed earlier.

The baby whimpered and Amy turned her to face forward.

“Come here, little one.” Faith held out her arms and cuddled the infant on her lap. With a pang of sorrow, she noticed Sophia had her father’s straight black hair and round nose. “She favors your husband.”

Amy nodded. “Everyone says so. Now she’s all I have to remind me. We wanted to have a picture made, but it cost too dear. That’s why Joel took a job . . .” She sucked in a breath. “Took a job in the quarry. The pay was good. First week, an edge of the pit broke away. He was standing right underneath. They brought him to me in the back of a wagon.” She closed her eyes, her head shaking from side to side. “I didn’t hardly know him, he was so tore up.”

Faith squeezed her hand. “You can tell me later.”

“No, I want to say it all now. Get it over with. We had a nice burying. Joel’s boss, he gave me the wages Joel had coming. They weren’t much. After thinking on things, I didn’t know what else to do but come here. We neither of us have any kinfolk left.” She met Faith’s concerned gaze. “I hoped maybe you could tell me of a place to stay and some kind of a job I can do.”

“Didn’t you stay with Reverend French before?”

“We did, but it doesn’t feel right to go to them. His son’s there, and now that I’m a widow . . . It’s not seemly.” Amy took a sip of ginger water.

Faith recalled the Frenches’ son. He’d served in the Army and returned home missing an arm. In his late twenties, he now lived with his parents and taught classic literature at the academy. Although she was sure he was a perfect gentleman, she could understand Amy’s reluctance.

She shifted Sophia on her lap and patted Amy’s hand. “I’d be pleased if you’d come home with me. My grandfather and I will be going to our house for dinner in a few minutes.”

Amy lifted her chin. “I’m not here to make you feel sorry and take us in. I hoped you knew someone who needed a housekeeper or some such.”

“If I came to you in need, wouldn’t you help me?”

“Well, naturally. That’s what folks do where I’m from.”

“Folks do that here too.” Smiling, Faith passed Sophia to her mother. “I hear Grandpa coming. Are you up to walking several blocks?”

“Been sitting all morning on the train. A walk will be nice.” Tears starred her lashes. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

As soon as they reached the house, Faith took Amy upstairs and showed her to the bedroom across the hall from her own. “This was my brother’s room.” She waved a hand at the dark mahogany bedstead and heavy chest of drawers.

Amy shrank away from the door. “I don’t want to discommode your memories. We can sleep somewheres else.”

“Nonsense. As you can see, his things are gone. Packed away.” She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “We’ll be glad to see the space put to use.”

“You’re certain?”

Faith nodded. “I’ll fetch clean bedding from the storeroom and be right back. We still have the family cradle Grandpa made when my father was born. I’ll bring that too.”

Amy placed Sophia in the center of the bare mattress. “Let me help.”

A few minutes later, Faith dashed down the stairs. “Dinner will be on the table in a few minutes, Grandpa.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I couldn’t say this before, with Mrs. Dunsmuir around, but I’m proud of you for bringing them here. ‘Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it.’ ”

She dropped a hug around his shoulders. “I hoped you’d feel that way. There was no opportunity to ask you ahead of time.”

“You never have to ask my permission to do good to another person. You should know that by now. Besides, it will be nice to have a young’un around.”

“We’ll enjoy them while we can. Amy said she’s hoping to find work as a housekeeper.” Faith walked into the kitchen and slid a crock of baked beans from the warming oven. As she put the meal on the table, she noticed Amy coming down the stairs.

“Sophia went to sleep soon as I put her in the cradle. I’m sorry I didn’t help with setting out the food.”

Faith smiled at her earnest expression. “I didn’t expect you to. Sit and eat with us, then why don’t you rest this afternoon? We’re usually home by half past five.”

Amy caught her trembling lower lip between her teeth. “I can’t thank you enough for your kindness. I’ll pay you back somehow, I swear.”

“There’s no need,” Grandpa said. “One day you can pass a blessing on to someone else.”