Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel (26 page)

Sheriff Cooper’s expression softened. “I grabbed ’em right after she fell. Sorry to hear she’s hurt.”

“So, why’d you let them go? You know they’ll have a couple more mugs of beer and start all over again.”

“Now you’re a lawman? Let me handle miscreants. You stick to currying horses.” He stepped inside and banged the door behind him.

Curt clenched his jaw, wishing he knew a way to shake Sheriff Cooper out of his shortsighted complacency.

Early Thursday morning, Curt sat across from Reverend French’s desk sipping stout black coffee. No wonder the man was such a passel of energy behind the pulpit. If he started his Sundays with this brew, it was a wonder he didn’t bound up and down the walls of the sanctuary.

“You came for a letter of introduction?” the reverend asked. “You really don’t need one.”

“Then call it a referral. I want something besides my word to prove I’m who I say I am.”

“Your reputation will speak for itself.”

“It’s been more than four years. Reputations are like bread—they’re only good when they’re fresh.”

Reverend French rubbed his upper lip. “Malcolm Robbinette’s the man you want to see. I’ll write the letter now if you want to wait.”

“Thanks, Reverend. I appreciate the boost.”

He opened a drawer and placed a single sheet of paper on top of his spotless desk. After fitting a nib to his penholder, he favored Curt with a warm gaze. “I’ll write this on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Stop calling me Reverend. My name’s Ethan.”

With Ethan’s letter folded in his shirt pocket, Curt strode at top speed across town to the livery stable. Rip had given him permission to arrive after nine, but he didn’t want to abuse the man’s good nature, especially since Rip didn’t yet know he planned to seek another job.

When he reached the livery, his employer burst out of the open double doors. “Of all the days for you to be late. Thought you’d never get here.”

“I’m not late. I asked yesterday—”

“That’s right. You did. Sorry.” Rip tugged at his beard. “I got some bad news this morning. I need you to run things here for a few weeks.”

Curt struggled to frame a response. The letter in his pocket whispered its promises to him. Now that he was ready, he didn’t want to postpone his decision for several weeks.

As the silence between them lengthened, the other man’s eyes grew moist. “It’s my brother in Arkansas,” he said in a choked voice. “His wife telegraphed. He’s dying.”

Ashamed of his selfish reaction, Curt rested a hand on his boss’s shoulder. “Go. Don’t worry about the livery. I’ll take care of everything.”

F
aith’s ankle throbbed as she swung her legs over the side of the cot. She shouldn’t be lying about in bed. She needed to tell Sheriff Cooper about the watch while the two men were still in jail. Then she had to see the banker about selling the mercantile.

Propelled by a sense of urgency, Faith pushed herself to a standing position, teetering on one foot. Her crutches were propped against the wall just out of reach. Flapping her elbows for balance, she hopped to the wall and grabbed at a crutch, gripping the hand piece while she tried to fit the second one under her left arm. After two wobbly tries, she gave up and hopped back to the cot.

Amy poked her head around the open door. “Did I hear you up and around?”

“Trying to be. I can’t seem to manage those sticks.” She swallowed, hating to ask for more assistance from the already overworked girl.

Amy’s eyes flicked from Faith to the crutches. “Are you sure you’re ready to walk?”

“You heard what Rosemary said. Twenty-four hours.”

“She meant the hot and cold soaks.”

“I’m better now. I know I can walk if you’ll help me get started.”

“We’ll see.” Amy handed Faith her wrapper and waited while she slipped her arms into the soft flannel garment. “Now, hang onto me and stand on your good leg. I’ll give you the crutches one at a time.”

Chafing at Amy’s slow pace, Faith fitted the wooden devices under each arm.

As soon as she rested her weight on her left leg, Amy stepped away. “Now, move both crutches ahead a little bit, then put your weight on them and swing your good leg forward.”

Faith took a tiny step and stopped. “What now?”

“Do it again.”

Another tiny step. Pain pounded through her ankle. Dismayed, she saw she’d moved only a dozen inches closer to the bedroom door. How would she get to town at this rate?

A slight smile tugged at Amy’s mouth while she watched her. “D’you think you can make it to the table? Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Of course I can.” She sucked in a breath. “How do you know so much about crutches?”

Amy lifted her skirt, revealing shiny scars covering her left leg. She touched a finger to her disfigured skin and said in a soft voice, “When I was twelve, sparks set my dress afire. Mama threw water on me, but this leg was burned bad. My papa made me some sticks and taught me to use them.”

“Oh, Amy. I’m sorry.” Faith berated herself for her impatience with Amy’s slowness. If only she’d known. She lurched another step forward. “At this rate, it looks like I’ll be at home for another day or two. Why don’t you spend some extra time with Sophia? Grandpa and I will be fine.”

“Thank you. I’d love that. I’ll take her for a long ride in her carriage after we eat.”

Faith smiled after her when Amy returned to the kitchen. If Curt’s attraction blossomed into love, Amy’s life would take a glorious turn. A man with his qualities would make any woman a perfect husband.

That evening, Faith showed the silver watch to Rosemary while the two of them sat on the sofa in the parlor. Grandpa had retired early, and Amy was up in her room with a book from their shelves, so Faith could enjoy Rosemary’s company uninterrupted. A breeze from the open window bore the fragrance of the climbing roses her friend had planted that spring.

Faith’s right leg rested on the green brocade ottoman that matched her grandfather’s wing chair. She wiggled her toes inside her white silk stocking. “See why I can’t take the watch to the sheriff? It’ll be days before I can walk all the way to town.”

“More like weeks.”

“Worse yet. There’s no time to lose. What if he lets those men go?”

“Let me show it to him. I’ll explain how it came to light.”

“I can’t ask that of you. You’re already spending your days at the mercantile. Besides, Sheriff Cooper doesn’t seem too friendly to the Saxon family. If you have the watch, he’ll say Curt stole it.”

Rosemary bit her lower lip. “That didn’t occur to me, but you’re probably right.” She stared at the ceiling.

Faith waited, knowing from her friend’s expression that she was formulating a solution.

After several silent moments, Rosemary walked to the window and gazed into the dusk, hands clasped behind her. “Would you have any objection to Sheriff Cooper coming here to talk to you?” She spoke with her back to Faith.

“Do you think he would?”

Rosemary turned to face her. “I don’t see why not. He respects you and your grandfather. I’ll tell him something turned up at the Independence Day celebration, and you want to talk to him about it.”

“You’re a wonderful friend. Tell him we’ll expect him tomorrow evening, if that’s convenient. I’ll see to it Grandpa stays awake.” Excitement bubbled through her. Perhaps more of their missing merchandise could be recovered. She pictured the stolen firearms back on the shelves and drew a satisfied breath. If their stock were restored, they could get a better price for the mercantile. Royal would be pleased indeed.

“Are you sure you want me to stay downstairs with you when the sheriff comes?” Amy asked Faith the next evening.

Faith patted the sofa cushion next to her. “You’re part of this household. You should share in our celebration at catching the man who robbed our store.”

“We didn’t catch him. Sheriff Cooper did.” Grandpa winked at her. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

The clock struck seven at the same moment they heard the knock. Amy jumped to her feet and dashed to the door. Faith noticed the look of wide-eyed wonder that passed over the sheriff’s face when he stood on the threshold and looked down at her.

He whipped his hat from his head. “Good evening. I was told Miss Faith had something she needed to discuss with me.”

“Indeed she does.” Amy reached for his hat and hung it on the hall tree. “She’d greet you herself, but guess you know she sprained her ankle pretty bad.”

“I heard.” He remained at her side, unmoving.

Faith cleared her throat. “We’re in here, Sheriff,” she said.

He bowed in Amy’s direction and gestured at the parlor entrance. “After you.”

Grandpa gestured with his cane. “Great snakes, Thaddeus. Stop the bowing and scraping and come on in. Faith told me to stay awake until you arrived, but I’m not going to wait all night while you fuss around our Amy.”

“Amy, is it?”

“Amy Dunsmuir,” she murmured, settling beside Faith on the sofa.

The sheriff tucked his thumbs in the pockets of his leather vest, assuming an official pose. He tore his gaze from Amy and focused on Faith. “You have something to show me?”

She opened her hand and held the watch up for his inspection. “This was stolen from the mercantile along with several other watches and firearms. I believe you have the report.”

He took the silver timepiece from her hand, turning it over. “How do you know it was yours?”

“We had half a dozen Walthams. If you’ll look on the back, you’ll see the number 405315 stamped into the silver. Miss Saxon brought me my record book this morning. That’s one of our watches, without a doubt.” She took a small leather-bound volume from the sofa cushion and opened it to a marked page. “Here’s the proof.”

“Supposing you’re right, what do you want me to do about it?”

Did she have to tell him how to do his job? “I’m sure one of the brawlers you arrested on Independence Day lost this. It got kicked under our quilt during the fight. You’ve got them both in jail. All you have to do is determine which one is the thief.” She leaned back, unable to keep a smile of satisfaction from her lips. “I told you Mr. Saxon was innocent.”

The sheriff’s face flushed. He held up two fingers. “One. The men are no longer in custody.” A finger went down. “Two. This doesn’t prove Saxon’s innocence, or the other man’s guilt, for that matter.” He closed his fist.

Faith felt the air whoosh from her lungs. “Did you record the names of the men when you arrested them?”

“Of course. It’s the law.”

“Then can you go after them? At least ask questions?”

Grandpa stirred in his chair. “Speaking of the law, judges don’t look too kindly on incompetence. Maybe you need to put some effort into this.”

Amy looked from Grandpa to the sheriff, her face a picture of confusion. “The store was robbed clear back in May. I remember how kind Miss Faith was to me at the time, in spite of her losses.” She inclined her head in Sheriff Cooper’s direction. “I hope you solve this soon. I’m afraid to step outdoors alone with such men running loose.”

Lowering her eyes, Faith hid her amusement. Amy wasn’t a bit afraid.

The sheriff drew himself up to his full height and smoothed his moustache. “Don’t fret, ma’am. I have a good idea where to find these fellows.” Turning to Faith, he added, “I’ll be back soon with a report.”

After he left, she squeezed Amy’s hand. “I think he’s smitten.”

“I don’t care about that.” She frowned. “Maybe now he’ll stop acting like a lazy hound and get after those varmints. I think it’s terrible he blames Curt.”

“Yes. So do I.” Her voice sounded flat. She’d been thrilled when the watch turned up, but they were no closer to catching the thief. She doubted the sheriff planned to arrest anyone. His focus seemed to be on impressing Amy.

Faith surveyed the exterior of Lindberg’s Mercantile from her seat in Curt’s buggy. She sighed with pleasure. “It’s good to be back. Everything looks the same.”

Curt grinned at her. “You were only at home for two weeks.”

“I missed being here—the customers, the activity, mornings with Rosemary.”

“She missed you too.” He propped her crutches against the hitching rail and clasped her around the waist, swinging her to the boardwalk.

“Well, this is a pretty picture,” said a familiar voice.

She swiveled in the direction of the sound. Her face flushed. “Royal. When did you return?”

He strode toward them. “Not a moment too soon, it seems.” His gaze swept over the crutches and back to Faith. “You’re hurt.”

She leaned on the rail while she fitted the crutch pads under her arms. “I sprained my ankle. This is my first day back at the store. I can’t walk far, so Curt offered to bring me in his buggy. He had to close the livery in order to help me.” Faith knew she was babbling. Stepping forward, she crutched toward the entrance, hoping to end the awkward moment.