Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel (21 page)

Faith’s heartbeat increased when she heard the knock at the door. Curt was early. In spite of the events of the day, she’d been counting the hours until he arrived. Now she’d have even more to tell him.

She swung the door wide—and stared into Royal’s face. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

“That’s a nice greeting.”

“I apologize, but I expected we’d go for a buggy ride Sunday like we always do, and—”

He touched the tip of her nose with his index finger. “If I promise to see you, I’ll keep that promise. But you can’t assume. As it happens, I had to be in Hartfield Sunday afternoon.” He grinned at her. “Come for a stroll with me. I’ll tell you all about my visit there.”

She glanced over his shoulder and saw Curt crossing the road, Bodie at his heels. Her face warmed. “I have something else to do this evening. I wish you’d asked sooner.”

He turned his head, following the direction of her gaze. “The stableman? You can do better.”

“We’re just friends. He’s been helping me with matters at the store.”

Royal rested his fingers against her forearm. “I’ll see you Sunday afternoon. That’s a promise.” He stepped off the porch, nearly colliding with Curt. “Evening, Saxon.”

Curt touched his hat brim. “Baxter.”

Faith moved to one side to allow Curt to enter. Bodie flopped down on the porch to wait. When she closed the door, she had the uncomfortable feeling she might be turning into one of those girls who kept men on a string like so many fish. “I had no idea he would be stopping by,” she said, her voice apologetic.

“Not your fault. We’re just pretending to court, remember?” His tone put distance between them. “I’ll greet your granddad, then we’ll go for our walk.”

He crossed to the parlor entrance and stopped. “Mrs. Dunsmuir. Good evening. I hadn’t heard of your return.” He glanced around. “Where’s Joel?”

“He’s—”

“Killed in an accident.” Grandpa spoke from his wing chair. “Amy’s staying with us for a bit. I’m sure Faith can tell you the rest.”

“Yes. I can. As soon as I get my bonnet we’ll be on our way.”

Curt walked to the sofa and made a half-bow in Amy’s direction. “My sincere condolences. Joel was a fine man. I admired his spirit.”

Her hazel eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you. Your words are a comfort.”

As they walked toward town, Bodie ran ahead and then circled back, busy sniffing at shadows. Faith told Curt what she knew of Joel’s death and Amy’s decision to return to Noble Springs. “When she recovers, she plans to look for work here.”

“I’ll keep my ears open and let you know if I hear of anything.” He smiled at her, his earlier chilliness apparently forgotten. “Maybe Mrs. Wylie needs someone.”

She loved the way his whole face lifted when he smiled.

“She wouldn’t hire Queen Victoria on my recommendation.” Faith chuckled. “I’m afraid we’ve lost a customer. You seem to have been more successful with collections.”

“Except for those few who claim your granddad gave them the merchandise.”

“Yes, there’s that. How many people have told you they didn’t have to pay?”

“Five so far. What about you?”

“Three. That’s quite a bit of uncollected debt. I don’t understand.”

“I have several more calls to make. Once I’ve talked with everyone, we’ll try to make some sense of this.”

She sighed. “I was so thrilled when Rosemary brought me the money you collected. The first thing I planned to do was order supplies to replace what was stolen. And now we’re back to zero.”

He took her arm when they reached the front of the livery stable. “Careful. The ground’s still slippery from Saturday’s rain.” His hand remained around her elbow after the boardwalk resumed. “You won’t stay at zero for long. Rosemary tells me you have customers supplying for a wagon train that may leave by late summer. They’ll travel partway, then winter over somewhere, I hear.”

Disappointment flickered inside at the mention of late summer. The date might as well be never as far as she was concerned. The mercantile was months away from rebuilding a strong financial foundation. “Rosemary’s right. The thieves didn’t take basics like cookware and buckets, ropes and shovels. But those items don’t bring a profit like rifles do.”

“ ‘For who hath despised the day of small things?’ ”

“This must be my day for Bible quotations. You sound like Grandpa.”

He squeezed her arm. “Just trying to bring a smile to your pretty face.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Curt had never said anything like that before. Did he really think she was pretty?

As they neared the courthouse, Faith glanced across the street, noticing a light burning in the window of the jail. “Has the sheriff bothered you again?”

“Not yet. He’s probably biding his time.”

“I’ll be glad when the thieves are caught and we can prove you had nothing to do with the robberies.”

“That’s what I want to talk over with you. I had—”

Bodie came to an abrupt stop in front of them, his fur raised. A low growl rumbled from his chest. Faith felt Curt’s body tense. He dropped her arm and stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. His hand went to his side, as though he were reaching for a pistol.

He wore no holster.

Curt stared at the low shrubbery beside the courthouse. “Identify yourself.” His voice sounded menacing.

Faith peeked around him. Fading daylight showed no one next to the building. Who did Curt see?

Bodie crept forward, continuing to growl. After a moment, he pounced. A black cat burst from hiding and tore across the street, the dog in full pursuit.

At the sight of the chase, Curt’s body relaxed. He turned toward her, his face a picture of shame. Faith put her hand to her throat. “Curt? What happened?”

“I’ll take you home.” He set off ahead of her. Bodie abandoned the cat and ran after him.

She stood motionless, hands on hips, and hollered at his retreating form, “If you’re going to take me home, hadn’t you better get back here where I am?”

C
urt stopped at the sound of Faith’s teasing voice. Heat suffused his body. He’d done the unthinkable by losing control in front of her. He marveled that she could still want his company. She should have turned and run the other way.

With dragging steps, he returned to her side. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he mumbled.

She slipped her small palm into his hand. “We’re not far from the mercantile. Let’s sit a moment on the bench out front.” They walked the length of the courthouse square in silence and then crossed the street.

Once they were seated, Curt stared at his shoes, uncertain how to proceed.

Faith cleared her throat and spoke in gentle tones. “Please tell me. What is it you’re afraid of?”

“
You
should be afraid of me.”

“Hardly. I’ve felt something was wrong for quite a while. You’ve shared in all my troubles for months now, let me share yours.” She held him with her eyes.

Perspiration prickled his forehead. Would she think he was deranged? In spite of Rosemary’s assurances, he half-believed it himself. He leaned forward, digging his fingers into the flesh of his thighs. “Ever since the war—” He cleared his throat. “I have visions. I see battlefields, burned-out towns, soldiers dying. I never know what will touch them off.”

Faith squeezed his hand. “Go on.”

His breath shredded. “I thought I had them licked. It’s been a long time. Reverend French suggested I pray when I feel one coming on, and it’s helped some. Tonight . . .” He slumped forward. “I’d give anything if you hadn’t seen that.”

“After all you’ve been through, I don’t wonder you have horrible memories. I wasn’t anywhere near a battle, but I still have nightmares about what must have happened to my brother and father.” Her hand felt soft and cool on his. “You don’t need to be ashamed.”

“That’s what Rosemary says.”

“She’s right.”

He dared a glance at her face. A soft smile lifted her lips.

“You’re not afraid of me?”

“Why would I be?” She squeezed his hand again. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Curt felt like jumping to his feet and dancing a jig, but the thought of Royal Baxter gave him pause. Faith was right—they were friends. It was Baxter who held her heart.

After seeing Faith home, Curt detoured past his house to leave Bodie with Rosemary, then crossed the street to the parsonage. Reverend French opened the door at his knock.

“You look mighty happy. Come in and tell me about it.”

Curt recounted the events of earlier that evening, leaving out nothing. “She wasn’t afraid of me. Said she understood.”

“Praise God.”

“I did.”

“So what are you going to do now?” The reverend laced his fingers together, steepling his thumbs.

“Same as always—work at the stable, help Rosemary at home.”

“And what about this young lady? Faith Lindberg, if I’m not mistaken.”

Curt’s heart stirred at the sound of her name. “Yes. Faith. She’s interested in someone else.”

Mrs. French stepped into the room carrying a tray containing a plate of cookies and two steaming cups of coffee. The aroma of molasses drifted past Curt’s nose. His stomach growled and he remembered he’d skipped supper to call on Faith.

“Thought you men might like a bite of something sweet.” She placed the tray on a corner of the desk. “There’s plenty of coffee if you need more.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Reverend French helped himself to a cookie and pushed the plate toward Curt. “You sure she’s really interested in him, and not just infatuated with his looks? All the girls think Baxter’s quite the charmer. You should hear my daughter.”

“How’d you know who I meant?”

“I’ve got eyes. Thing is, until he declares himself she’s not committed. You’ve got as much chance as he has.” He rose and leaned against one of the bookcases. “Have you given any more thought to finding a job that suits your talents? All your schooling is wasted at Ripley’s Livery.”

The abrupt change of subject caught Curt off guard. He had been considering going back to his former profession, but how could he leave Rip without a helper? Especially after all the man had done for him.

Faith propped open the front door of the mercantile to try to corral any breeze that might ruffle the day’s promised heat. Rosemary bustled in, fanning herself. She dropped her carryall on a counter and turned to Faith, her expression curious. “Curt told me Joel Dunsmuir was killed in a quarry accident and Amy and her baby are staying with you.”

“She’s hoping to find a job as a housekeeper, but the poor thing is too distraught right now. I thought it best that she wait awhile.”

“Would she welcome a caller? I’d like to offer condolences.”

Faith nodded. “I’m sure she’d love to see you again. She showed me that gash you treated on her forehead. It healed beautifully, thanks to you. She’s very grateful.”

“She’s alone at your house today?”

“Grandpa stayed home with her. He’s quite taken with little Sophia.” Faith smiled at the image of her grandfather bouncing Amy’s four-month-old baby on his knee. She knew he had hopes of seeing her babies one day. God willing, he would.

Rosemary tilted her head, her index finger resting on her cheek. “Maybe Amy’s the Lord’s provision for you. She can keep an eye on your grandfather. I know you worry about him.”

Faith considered her words for a moment before responding. “I don’t know. I’d feel I was taking advantage of her. How could she refuse?”

Mr. Slocum and Mr. Grisbee drifted through the open door, tipped their hats to Faith and Rosemary, then settled next to the checkerboard and commenced disputing whose turn it was to go first.

“They’re as reliable as roosters,” Rosemary said with a grin. “Time to start our day.” She reached into her carryall. “I brought you something.”

Faith hefted the bag of coins Rosemary handed her. “Feels like Curt was successful. He must’ve gone out last night after taking me home.” She kept her voice low so the woodstove regulars wouldn’t overhear. She didn’t want her troubles spread all over town.

“He only has a few more names he hasn’t crossed off the list.” Rosemary tied her apron around her waist. “Has the sheriff discovered anything new about the person who stole your money?”

“I haven’t heard a word. I doubt he’s trying very hard. He seems fixed on the idea that Curt’s the thief.” She dropped the bag in the cash drawer and turned the key. She’d count the money later.

Mr. Slocum raised his head. “Someone stole your money? When was that?”

Faith grimaced. Rosemary might as well have told the editor of the
Noble Springs Observer
. “Awhile ago.”

Rosemary mouthed a regretful “I’m sorry,” and busied herself rearranging bolts of fabric.

Mr. Grisbee shuffled to her side. “Me and Jesse can take turns watching the place, Miss Faith. Bad enough your guns was stole. Now they’re takin’ your cash money.” He shook his head, his wrinkled features sorrowful. “Don’t know what this town’s comin’ to.”

“You’re very kind, but I wouldn’t dream of asking you to spend your days here.” Images of the woodstove regulars patrolling the mercantile made her cringe. Then she grinned to herself. They already watched the door like hungry puppies waiting for feeding time.

“We’d be glad to help out,” Mr. Slocum said. “Give us something to do.”

Rosemary and Faith exchanged a glance. Rosemary shrugged.

“Then I accept,” Faith said. “You can start today. I’m going to the bank later. Who wants to come with me?”

While they argued among themselves, she returned to the cash drawer and counted the money Curt had collected. The salesman from Marblehead Gun Works was due soon. Maybe she had enough to order one shotgun.

When she left for the bank, Mr. Slocum stuck close to her side. “Me and Harold decided to trade off. Next time he’ll go with you, and I’ll guard the store.”

His neatly trimmed gray beard matched his keen gray eyes. In spite of her initial reluctance, Faith felt safer in his company. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but the theft on Saturday had shaken her, both mentally and physically. For the time being, she’d welcome an escort.

Faith turned toward the teller cage on her left when she entered the hushed interior of the Noble Springs National Bank. “Miss Faith,” Mr. Slocum whispered, “Paulson’s trying to get your attention.” He pointed to the president’s desk at the far end of the lobby.

She glanced at Mr. Paulson, wondering what he wanted. She’d been meticulous with the store’s records since Curt taught her how to make entries. While the teller entered the amount of her deposit in her passbook, Faith noticed Mr. Paulson hurrying toward them.

“I have some good news for you.” He smiled broadly at her. “Would you have a moment to discuss an important matter?”

“I’ll wait over there.” Mr. Slocum pointed to a bench inside the door.

The banker took her elbow and guided her to a chair in front of his desk. “I had a visitor yesterday. This person is very interested in purchasing the mercantile—lock, stock, and barrel.” He rubbed his hands together. “I knew you’d be happy. We just have to set a fair price.”

Faith sucked in a breath and held it for a moment. Sell the store, just when she was beginning to see results from her efforts?

He studied her face. “You don’t look pleased. My understanding was you wanted to unload the business. You did place an advertisement in the
Observer.
”

“That was over a month ago. I told you my grandfather cancelled the item.” She paused a moment, pondering. “Who would come out of nowhere and offer to buy the mercantile now?”

“A local businessman.”

“Who?”

“Gilbert Allen. He owns the cooperage.”

Faith planted her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her face on her hand. A jumble of thoughts spun through her mind. This was their chance to be part of the next wagon train to leave. But now she had Amy to consider. They couldn’t go off and abandon her and Sophia.

“How much did he offer?” she asked in a small voice, half afraid he’d name an amount so high she couldn’t refuse.

“Not as much as the mercantile’s worth, unfortunately, but if you’re interested I’ll tell him your price and see if he’ll match it.”

Relieved, she pushed herself to her feet. “Right now there is no price. I want to see the business attain its former luster first.”

“You’re making a mistake. It could be months before you see much profit.”

“So be it. Tell Mr. Allen I said no.”