The Blizzard Bride

by Susanne Dietze

  “Like who?” Bynum set Willodean down and shook Dash’s hand.

  “Almos and Berthanne Sweet. I had to send them … I sent them home early.” Her face mottled.

  “We’ll find them.” Dash rested a hand on her shoulder. Thankfully, she didn’t shrink away from his touch.

  “I’ll help look.” Her chin lifted.

  “Actually, Miss Bracey, we were thinking you could come back to town.” Knapp caught her gaze. “We decided my store would be a central location for folks to meet up and claim their young’uns, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  Dash could tell she’d rather search for the Sweet children, but she nodded. “Sounds smart.”

  “I’ll come too,” Burt offered.

  Abby turned to him. “Thank you for your hospitality, Burt. If you hadn’t welcomed us in, I don’t know what we would have done.”

  His cheeks reddened above his beard. “My pleasure. Glad I could get acquainted with the children I see playing every day.”

  It didn’t take long to load everyone onto the drays the men had brought, wood boards fixed atop sled runners. The temperature was still shockingly low, but the children’s spirits were high. They chattered as if they were on a sleigh ride.

  Dash’s mood wasn’t light, however. The world looked altogether foreign. Above, sun dogs shone on either side of the sun, blinding him in their intensity. On the ground, drifts clumped as tall as a man, especially against buildings and fences, but in other areas, the snow was shallow—or nonexistent. Here and there, the wind had stripped away the snow down to the bare dirt. And everywhere, the landscape was dotted with snowy brown lumps. Frozen cattle. It was enough to set anyone on edge.

  It didn’t help that he was hungry and tired. He’d gone days without sleep before, hunting counterfeiters and smugglers for the Secret Service, but there was something different about this experience. Maybe it also had something to do with knowing at the end of a long night following a suspect, he could return to his quarters, fill his stomach, and sleep.

  Sleep would be a long time coming, however. Wells wasn’t his community, and he’d never met Berthanne or Almos Sweet, but he cared for the people here, and he wouldn’t rest until those children were found. They, or any others who might be lost.

  And there would be losses, even if the community didn’t lose a soul to this blizzard. Lost livestock and sources of income. Damage to buildings. Dash could only pray that would be the worst of it.

  Main Street was eerie in its silence, but the general store was almost a shock to him, with its loud activity and warmer temperature. Dash hadn’t been inside three seconds before someone pressed a hot mug of coffee into his hands. He took a moment to gulp it and a warm, flaky biscuit—oh, he’d never tasted anything better—before preparing to head out to look for the Sweet children.

  Someone grabbed him from behind in a fierce bear hug.

  He craned his neck. “Isaac. Why are you here?”

  “Because Geraldine was fretting about Micah, so I said I’d find him, but I missed the group who went to the school. And because you, my friend, were missing.” He released Dash.

  My friend.

  A surge of affection rushed through Dash. Isaac had become a good friend, but he couldn’t forget why he was in Wells. That phony bill of Pitch’s that Isaac gave him was easily explained, just like the phony bills he’d received at the general store, but the situations felt different from one another.

  And he’d learned not to ignore his gut.

  Nevertheless, he was more than relieved Isaac was safe. “Were you all right in the post office?”

  “Sure was. I assumed you’d be at the inn, but then I got here and Knapp said you up and left when the blizzard hit. What were you thinking, running out like that? You’re that lovesick that you lost your common sense?”

  “Not lovesick. Regretful.” He was too weary to speak anything but the truth. “Abby and I had an understanding some years ago, but I left Chicago. Didn’t say goodbye, didn’t explain. Just left. Bad manners, I know.”

  Isaac gaped. “No, it’s beyond that. I’m not the most experienced fellow when it comes to ladies, but—Dashiell, badly done.”

  Dash could’ve used his advice six years ago, rather than Abby’s father’s words of so-called wisdom. “I thought it would be easier that way. Clean break and all that.”

  Isaac shook his head like Dash was an idiot. “No wonder you came to apologize to her. And no wonder you went out in that storm looking for her.”

  “I’m just glad we’re all well, but there are two lost children. Will you help us find them?”

  “Of course. Who?” Isaac’s gaze caught on something over Dash’s shoulder. “I bet they’re that fellow’s children, since he’s giving your schoolmarm what for.”

  Dash spun around. Abby trembled before a man with wind-chapped cheeks and quivering jowls. He couldn’t hear her, but her voice rose in volume. “… sorrier than I can ever say. The weather was mild when they left. I didn’t know the storm would hit when I sent them home.”

  “They didn’t get home, though, thanks to you. What kind of incompetent teacher are you?”

  Tears streaked down Abby’s face.

  Dash moved beside her, flanking both her and Mr. Sweet. “We’ll find Berthanne and Almos. We’re starting the search now.”

  “Don’t forget Stripey,” a small voice said at his elbow. He hadn’t noticed Willodean following him.

  “Who?” Bynum came up behind her and scooped her into his arms.

  “The skunk, Papa.”

  Mr. Sweet buried his face in his palms. “He brought that skunk to school? Why’d he do something like that?”

  Willodean’s eyes went wide. “To feed him pork crackling, even though Miss Bracey said, ‘No, Almos, don’t you bring that skunk again to school,’ but Almos did anyway. That’s why they had to go home.”

  “Come on, Simeon.” Elkanah Topsy gripped his neighbor around the shoulders. “We’ll find them. It ain’t nobody’s fault.”

  “He’s right.” Dash stared down at Abby. “This is not your fault.”

  “But—”

  “It is not your fault,” he enunciated. “Do you understand?”

  “Of course I don’t. I should’ve noticed the sack earlier. I had no idea Stripey was there, much less being fed pork crackling. Mr. Sweet’s right. I’m incompetent.”

  “I’ve got a suspicion that boy had help hiding that skunk from you. Willodean knew about it. You don’t have eyes in the back of your head, Abby. Nor can you allow a skunk in the classroom. You had to send them home.”

  “I know, but—” Her shoulders sagged. “If they’re out there?”

  “I will find them. And in the meantime you’re needed here to tend your students. Also so I can find you when I come back. Keep your head up and pray. And have faith.”

  He wanted to kiss away the lines of worry marring her forehead, but instead, he took a shovel from Knapp and joined the other men to begin the search out in the world of white.

  CHAPTER 14

  By the time dusk fell, most of Abby’s students had been collected from the general store by their anxious parents. Bynum and Mr. Topsy escorted their children home before searching the school grounds for Almos and Berthanne, while Mr. Sweet, Dash, Isaac, and others searched around the Sweet farm. Both groups would comb their way toward each other until they met in the middle. All that remained under Abby’s care now were the Knapp children, of course, and Vernon and Florence Johnstone.

  Bad news had arrived a few hours ago. Florence and Vernon’s father, Harvey Johnstone, was on foot between town and home when the blizzard hit. By the time he reached his door, one of his feet was waxy purple, according to Mrs. Queen. She’d heard the news from the doctor’s wife, who believed the limb would probably have to be amputated.

  At that horrifying thought, Abby’s prayers grew even more feverish for Berthanne and Almos. Were they alive? Would they lose fingers and toes, or worse?

  Stop
it, Abigail. Prayer is the greatest weapon in your arsenal. Hadn’t Dash told her to keep the faith?

  She’d try. She needed God’s help, but she’d try.

  Mrs. Knapp had graciously offered to keep Florence and Vernon so their mother could care for Harvey, and as a light snow began to fall at three o’clock, Abby, the three Knapps, and the Johnstone children left the store for the adjoining residence to start supper. The large kitchen smelled of simmering ham bone and was richly decorated in a rosy pink hue with frill-trimmed white curtains. Mrs. Knapp bustled about, pulling bowls from shelves and fussing with the stove. “Oneida, start the corn bread.”

  Oneida clapped. “May we have honey?”

  “We may. Chester and Vernon, I need three onions and three potatoes from the cellar for the soup. Florence, go with them and look for a pint jar of carrots.”

  “What can I do?” Abby donned the frilly apron Mrs. Knapp handed to her.

  “Why don’t you slice those vegetables the children bring up while I start the corn bread?”

  Mrs. Knapp’s knives were far sharper than Mr. Crabtree’s. Abby made quick work of peeling and slicing, praying all the while because every minute that passed was another minute Berthanne and Almos could be out in the cold, frightened, or worse.

  “That onion’s giving you tears, eh?” Mrs. Knapp dumped the jar of carrots into the soup pot.

  “I suppose so.” She shouldn’t admit the real reason tears were falling. She didn’t want to scare the children any more than they had been.

  Oneida peered up at Abby’s face. “Miss Bracey’s eyes have been red like that since the storm.”

  Mrs. Knapp joined her daughter in scrutinizing Abby. “They are inflamed.”

  “They’ll heal, I’m sure.” Abby scraped the potatoes into the pot.

  “So will that knot on your head, but let’s put a compress on it and your eyes while the corn bread bakes.”

  They sat around the table together waiting for supper to cook, Abby with a delightfully warm compress over her eyes while Mrs. Knapp read Psalms to them. One was especially comforting, about God being present in times of trouble. Abby would have to memorize it later. Then they ate the salty, flavorful soup and sweet corn bread. The hour was early, but dusk fell and the children’s lids were heavy.

  “None of us slept last night,” Abby explained.

  “Here either.” Mrs. Knapp’s eyes took on a haunted look. “Come to bed, children. Florence, you can wear one of my gowns. It’ll be a bit large, but it’ll do.”

  Once the children settled for the night, Abby sat up with Mrs. Knapp in the snug parlor, assisting with the mending by the light of two pretty cut-glass kerosene lamps. Her glance kept stealing to the window. “It’s full dark now. I wonder where the men are.”

  Mrs. Knapp didn’t look up from sewing on a button. “They’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”

  And who else would be with them? “The only person we’ve heard any news about today is Harvey Johnstone. Do you know if anyone else is missing, aside from Berthanne and Almos?”

  Saying their names hurt.

  “I don’t rightly know. All the schoolchildren’s families seem to be accounted for, but beyond that, some folks may be holing up at home. It might take a few days to know who’s well and who isn’t. In the meantime, we’ll keep the lamps burning for the menfolk. They’ll appreciate that hot soup.”

  “It smells wonderful.”

  “My Gilbert loves a good ham-bone stock.” Mrs. Knapp kept up a steady stream of chatter on her husband’s favorite foods, which didn’t require much participation from Abby beyond the odd “mm-hmm” or smile. Abby darned a hole in one of Chester’s stockings and prayed for those out in the cold. And for Dash.

  He’d been wonderful at Burt Crabtree’s, helpful, hardworking, and gentle with the children. She’d always known he’d be a good father, and she used to imagine him playing with their own little ones someday.

  That old familiar pain speared her from her stomach up into her chest. At least she wasn’t angry at Dash now. Just hurt and sad enough she wanted to go hide in the kitchen to shed a few more tears, offering the excuse she needed to stir the soup.

  You’re tired. Bone weary, and her body ached from ears to toes from the cold and exertion. But Abby had a feeling that her lack of anger had nothing to do with fatigue. God was helping her. Healing her. Sadness was part of the process toward that fuller healing. She had never allowed herself to grieve Dash leaving, much as she struggled to grieve for her parents, considering how complicated their passings were, thanks to Fletcher Pitch.

  Hmm. She hadn’t thought of Pitch all day. At least he couldn’t get into Wells in the next few days. Roads were blocked, and she’d overheard the telegraph wires were down too.

  A scrape and thump drew her attention. “Is that the men?”

  “I believe so.” Mrs. Knapp’s mending fell on the floor as she rushed out. Abby followed suit.

  Mr. Knapp, Isaac Flowers, and oh, there was Dash behind them, dusted in white from his eyebrows to his boots.

  The moment his gaze met hers, she knew. They had not found Berthanne and Almos.

  “Had to stop looking,” Isaac said, shaking snow from his hat. “Got too dark.”

  “Good news is we didn’t find any bodies,” Mr. Knapp added as his wife kissed his cheek.

  That didn’t make Abby feel any better.

  Mrs. Knapp extricated herself from her husband’s arms. “We have hot soup.”

  Isaac held up a hand. “Thanks, ma’am, but I promised Geraldine I’d let her know what we found.”

  Dash tugged off his gloves. “I’ll take some of that soup, if you don’t mind.”

  “Miss Bracey and the children helped with it.” As Isaac departed, Mrs. Knapp led the way into the kitchen and ladled two bowls before a childish cry pierced the evening quiet. “Chester’s having one of his nightmares. I’d better see to him.”

  “I’ll go too. Days like this makes a man want to hold his children any chance he gets.” Mr. Knapp tugged the napkin from his collar and joined his wife. The sound of their footsteps faded as they mounted the stairs.

  Abby was keenly aware she was alone with Dash. The hair on her arms and nape stood at attention. Being around Dash again had been, well, confusing, to say the least. His departure from her life six years ago set her on one path, and his return had nudged her onto another, one that returned her to God’s fold.

  She should say something. Had to say something, now, while they had a moment of privacy.

  “Are you cold?”

  She clamped her jaw shut. They had a minute alone and that was what she asked? Of course he was cold.

  “Better now, but the temperature is so far below zero, I couldn’t even guess.” He sampled his soup. “Ah, I can feel that all the way down my gullet. Want some?”

  “No, I ate earlier.”

  “You look exhausted.”

  “So do you.” Lines ridged his eyes.

  “Wouldn’t hurt me to get a few hours of sleep. I need to get up before dawn to tend the horses at the inn and be ready to search again at first light.” His face took on a troubled look, but he shook it off. “I know you’re worried about Berthanne and Almos. We all are. But you need to rest too, and do your best to trust God’s got them in His hand. He’s got you too.” His hand reached across the Knapps’ table to rest atop hers.

  It was a gesture of comfort, just as his hug had been last night, and his touch on her shoulder this morning. But this was different somehow. Tiny flickers sparked up her fingertips.

  She couldn’t deny having feelings for him. Did love like she had for Dash actually ever die? Maybe, for some people. But not for her. It had always been there, ignored and aching in a corner of her heart.

  That didn’t mean she could let him into her heart again, though. Or that she should. He hadn’t loved her then, so he wouldn’t love her now. But she still wanted to know why he left. She needed to know, so she could finally put this in the pa
st where it belonged and move forward with her life.

  Maybe she was so tired that she didn’t care about what would happen when Mr. and Mrs. Knapp returned downstairs, but she had to know the answer. Tonight.

  “Why did you leave six years ago, Dash? Why did you go without telling me goodbye?”

  Dash fiddled with the fraying edges of the leather-covered Bible resting on the table. Telling her the truth wouldn’t do any good. It would only bring her more pain.

  But it might also help them both heal from what he’d done. If she understood, perhaps she would believe that it had nothing to do with her … even though it had everything to do with her.

  He met her gaze. “I left to keep you safe.”

  “What do you mean, safe?” She shrank back. “Were you working for the Secret Service then?” She whispered, although poor Chester’s crying surely prevented his parents from overhearing their conversation.

  “No, not until three and a half years ago. Before that I was an investigator.”

  “In Chicago?”

  He shook his head. “I went to Kansas City to look for work and stumbled into a robbery investigation. I helped the police, and the sergeant took a liking to me and hired me as an investigator. I found some counterfeit money, turned it in, and that’s how I came to the attention of the Service, but—we were talking about something else. Me leaving to keep you safe. What I meant is your life with me wouldn’t have been secure.”

  “I don’t understand how I was in any jeopardy. This makes no sense.”

  How to say this? He could grasp no other way than straight out. “A man like me, starting a business, we’d face hardship. You’d go without. I wouldn’t have been able to provide for you in a manner befitting your expectations.”

  “The only thing I expected was a life with the man I loved. I told you as much.”

  “But you didn’t know what it would be like. You’d never known hunger.”

  She snorted. “I have now, and I would have far preferred experiencing it with a loved one than by myself. Why didn’t you discuss this with me? You had no business assuming things for me.”