Christmas at Stoney Creek

by Martha Rogers

  “I’m mighty grateful for whoever did this, and now I’m getting on back to the library so I can put those books where they belong.”

  She marched from the store, leaving everyone behind to ask where the books had come from. Mr. Hempstead finished tallying her order, and Faith picked up her bundle, hoping she’d run into Tom soon. Something was going on here, and she wanted to be sure he heard about it.

  Tom knocked on the bakery window and peered inside. Faith laid her cleaning cloth on a table and hurried to open the door.

  “You’re just the person I wanted to see.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

  “I know you’re closed, but I wanted to ask you about something.”

  “Come over here and sit down. I want to tell you what happened a while ago at Hempstead’s store.”

  Tom’s eyebrows shot up. That was what he’d come to ask her about. On his way back to the office after lunch at home, he’d heard all kinds of tales on the street from Mr. Kirk becoming a rich man to Mrs. Rivers getting a box from a secret admirer in Dallas.

  He sat down, and she grabbed his hands. Warmth from her touch shot up his arms and straight to his heart. Her face held such an earnest expression that he pushed aside his feelings and waited for her to tell him her news.

  A few minutes later she finished her tale and sat back, still holding his hands. “Now isn’t that the strangest thing you ever heard of in your life?”

  “It is rather odd, I must agree.” Indeed, nothing like this had ever happened before. He was happy for Mrs. Rivers and the Kirk family, but it sure would be nice to know who the benefactor might be.

  “Tom, do you think it could be your uncle Micah? You know how he always wants to do things to make Stoney Creek a better town.”

  He chewed on that for a few minutes and let it roll around in his head. Finally he shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. He helped out with the generator for the tree lighting, but I don’t think he is wealthy enough to do more than that.”

  “Hmm. Then who could it be? Some even asked if it could be your father because he’s always going without pay to take care of folks.”

  “Which means he doesn’t have the extra money to do something like this.” Still, with his father’s kindness toward his patients, he could understand why people might think he’d be that generous.

  They sat in silence a few seconds before Faith sat up straight, her eyes open wide with a new thought. “Joe was with Mrs. Rivers at the library this morning. He made a new counter space for her to check out books and keep records. You don’t think maybe . . . ” Her voice trailed off.

  Tom’s news-sniffing brain went into high gear. Could it be possible? No, the man was penniless, or at least he said he was. “I don’t know. He was so dirty, smelly, and shaggy when I first met him on the train. True, he cleaned up rather well, but his own clothes are still ragged and old. The only decent ones he has were given to him.”

  He jumped up from the table. “Look, I have to get back to the office. Gretchen asked her father to put out word he’s trying to get information about a Joe Fitzgerald. I want to mull over this information with her and see if we can come up with anything.”

  He reached out and squeezed Faith’s hands between his. “Thanks for taking the time to go over this with me. You’d make a fine reporter, Miss Faith Delmont.” He kissed her cheek again and raced out the door. He’d have to wait until another day to learn what her feelings for him might be, but right now he had a story to track down.

  CHAPTER 21

  JOE RELISHED THE attention Mrs. Rivers and Mr. Kirk had received for their unexpected gifts. Nothing delighted him more than to see people grateful for what they were given. Since the books arrived on Wednesday, Mrs. Rivers hadn’t stopped talking about them during meals at the boardinghouse.

  This morning he planned to pay a visit to Alex Hightower, the only lawyer in town since, as he’d heard, Mr. Murphy had retired last year because of poor health. He needed to set things up so Mr. Hightower and Mr. Baxter could work out details and make sure every necessary step for what Joe planned kept to the law.

  As he left the boardinghouse and headed to town, the overcast skies cast a pall over the landscape. The once-bright colors of autumn had fallen away, and the trees appeared dull and lifeless. Despite the roiling clouds toward the north, the air remained still. If Joe wasn’t mistaken, a big storm was headed this way. He’d better get his business taken care and get back to his room before the skies darkened further.

  He reached town and passed by the tailor shop. Zachariah Morton hailed him from the doorway. “Joe, I have something for you. Come on inside.”

  Joe glanced back to the threatening sky but decided he’d have time for a quick stop. When he entered the showroom, Zachariah wore a huge grin as he held out a suit toward Joe.

  “Made this for you in appreciation of the work you did for me in building the new display cases.”

  The black suit was tailored in the latest single-breast, straight-hemmed jacket style for men. Joe shrugged his arms into the sleeves of the jacket. Zachariah had done an excellent job. He ran his hand over the fine wool the tailor had used. Almost as fine as the ones he’d had made years ago in the city. “Thank you, Zachariah. It’s very nice and it fits extremely well.”

  A tinge of red flushed the tailor’s cheeks. “I consider myself to be a master tailor and can pretty much figure the size of a man from observing him.”

  Joe removed the jacket and handed it back to Zachariah. “I’m honored to accept such a gift from you. Thank you.” He didn’t need the suit, but if he refused the offer, the man would be hurt more than if Joe had slapped him in the face.

  “Good, good. I’m glad you’re pleased. I’ll box it up, and you can take it with you.”

  “Yes, there looks to be a storm brewing and coming in from the north, so I’ll take it back to the boardinghouse now.”

  By the time Zachariah had the suit boxed, the sky had darkened more. When Joe stepped outside, the wind had picked up. If he hurried, he could make it back to the boardinghouse before the rains came. Others in town had the same idea of finding cover as they scurried into businesses or urged their horses and carriages homeward.

  Joe reached the boardinghouse steps with the first large raindrops hitting his head. Time to settle in for a rainy afternoon. His business with Hightower could wait.

  Delightful aromas filled the air inside the boardinghouse. He stopped by the kitchen to greet Mrs. Hutchins.

  “From the delightful smells here, we must be in for a special supper tonight.”

  Mrs. Hutchins wiped her hands with a towel. “Since it looks like a storm is heading this way and most likely bringing some cooler temperatures with it, I put on a pot of stew. And I baked an apple pie as well.”

  “Ah, then we’ll eat hearty tonight. I’ll be up in my room if you need me for anything.” He ambled from the kitchen but stopped in the parlor before heading upstairs. Now the sky had turned even darker, and the tree branches swayed about the street.

  Joe shuddered. He’d heard the talk of Stoney Creek’s previous floods and sent up a silent prayer for the Lord to protect the town this day.

  Despite Gretchen’s father’s efforts, Tom still had nothing new on Joe Fitzgerald. He had even tried to talk with Mr. Swenson, but the man stood his ground concerning privileged bank account and client information. This Tom had expected, and the banker’s refusal only served to increase his respect for the man, but it led to more curiosity about Joe.

  Joe had been to the sheriff simply to ask about the security of the town, and no wanted posters with Joe’s likeness appeared in the stack the sheriff had received.

  With the elections over, things had quieted down in the news world for the moment. He’d written a few feature articles, but nothing really whetted his appetite like the mystery surrounding Joe Fitzgerald.

  Gretchen burst through the door and shoved it closed against the wind. “Looks like we’re in for a big sto
rm. The sky is really dark.” She untied the ribbons on her hat and laughed. “Good thing Mrs. Blake made me wear this one with ties today or I’d be minus a hat. The wind nearly captured this one.”

  Mr. Blake stepped out of his office. “The weather is looking worse by the minute. I say we shut down and head for home, or we might be stuck here for the evening.”

  Tom and Gretchen wasted no time gathering their belongings. Tom handed in his latest feature article. “Here’s my latest story, and it looks like this weather may rustle up a story or two. I’ll be on the lookout.”

  “Good, you do that. I’m sure we’re in for a rainstorm like we had a few years back. Meanwhile, I’ll take this home with me and look it over.” He added it to the satchel he carried. “Now get on out of here. If this is as bad as it looks, the creek might flood.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Blake.” Tom shrugged on his coat. “See you tomorrow.” He decided against wearing his hat. No sense in losing it to that wind.

  He strode across to the livery. Early this morning Tom had smelled rain in the air and elected to ride into town. Now he was glad he had, for he’d be home much more quickly than walking the eight or so blocks to his home.

  The horse must have sensed the building storm because he headed straight for the Whiteman stable and barn behind the infirmary and house. Tom slid off the horse and took care of the saddle and trappings. After making sure everything was secure in the barn and the horses had oats, he ran toward the house as huge drops of rain fell from the sky and the lightning flashed.

  He all but fell into the kitchen and pulled hard to close the door behind him. “It’s going to be a mess out there.” He shrugged out of his damp jacket.

  His mother reached for it. “Your pa and some of the other men headed to the creek right away to put up the sand barrier. From the looks of the sky, I don’t think they have near enough to keep that creek from coming to town.”

  When the makeshift dam hadn’t held the last storm, the townspeople had ordered loads of sand and filled bags to use for the next storm. They’d been stored in an empty warehouse donated by one of the townspeople.

  Tom ran to the coat closet and found his slicker. “I’m going to help. Keep the girls inside.” Of course she would, but Tom had to say it anyway. He glanced down and realized he still had on his good shoes. He needed his boots.

  Upstairs he grabbed his oldest pair of high boots and pulled them on. Now properly clad, he raced down the stairs. He waved to his mother in the kitchen. “Be sure to latch this door behind me so the wind doesn’t take it.”

  “Go on. I’ll take care of everything here.”

  He’d no sooner reached the road leading to the creek than the rain began in earnest. Good thing he was so familiar with the creek road or he’d be lost in this blinding downpour.

  The wind pushed Tom down the road, and shouts from up ahead let him know he neared the creek. He drew closer to find men in rain slickers piling bags of sand high along the banks. They’d never get a wall built to be high enough and thick enough to stop Stoney Creek if it flooded. Still, they needed to try, and Tom joined the men.

  The sand bags, now waterlogged, were too heavy to lift more than one at a time. Two wagonloads remained to be unloaded. Tom climbed up on top to help hand the bags down to waiting hands. When the last bag had been tossed down, Tom bent at the waist, his breath coming in gasps.

  Sheriff Bolton hollered for the men to gather round. After he had their attention, more instructions were issued. “I don’t think these bags are enough to prevent flooding. The town will be okay since it’s on a hill and the houses are built up.” He called out to the blacksmith. “How does it look in your area, Burt?”

  “We’re high enough up. We’ll be okay. It’s those farmers and the cattle out on the range that worry me.” The lightning flashed and thunder rolled through the sky.

  “Then take your men and go on back to your homes and make sure your families are secure.” The sheriff began dividing people into groups. “Those of you living in the lower areas go back home and evacuate. Bring everything you can as quick as you can and come to the town hall. We’ll set it up as a relief center.” He scanned the crowd as groups left. “Anyone know who wasn’t here that might need help?” Several hands rose in the air. “Then go warn them and get them out if it looks like they might flood.”

  When the last group left, the sheriff pulled his collar up around his neck. “Okay, the rest of you need to get back to town. Looks like we’re in for a long night.”

  Tom slogged his way home through mud puddles, glad for the old boots covering his feet. The wind wasn’t as strong as before, but the rain seemed to be heavier. Now evening darkness would take over that created earlier by the storm and make any work that needed to be done more difficult.

  An arm came around his shoulders, and his Pa’s umbrella offered welcome relief from the constant rain. “Well, Son, this is going to be some night. I’m going to the infirmary and make sure I have everything ready in case of any emergencies. Why don’t you go to the town hall and see what may be needed there? Maybe your ma and some of the other ladies can help with food.”

  “All right, but I’m going to change into dry clothes first. I’ll get wet again, but at least I’ll be dry for a little while.”

  Twenty minutes later Tom trudged through the pouring rain with his father’s umbrella. The weather didn’t look like it’d let up anytime soon. At the town hall men and women from the two churches laid out bedding and organized the groups now filling the shelter.

  Mrs. Weatherby passed by, and Tom grabbed her arm. “What can I do to help? Do you need food or supplies?”

  “Mrs. Delmont and Miss Ruby are preparing sandwiches and coffee to bring over from the bakery. Angela and her mother are helping with the bedding. You can help set up those tables so we’ll have a place for the food. We’re expecting at least ten to fifteen families from the farmlands to come in for the night.” She hurried away to set up more sleeping areas.

  If that many farmers brought their families, they could end up with well over fifty people. Faith would be busy helping her mother, so maybe she’d come over with the sandwiches and other food later. Joe waved to him from the corner filled with stacked chairs. Tom waved back and headed in that direction. Even if Faith came later, most likely he’d have no time to speak with her anyway. Right now his task was to help get those tables and chairs set up for the evening meal.

  CHAPTER 22

  THE RAIN CONTINUED to come down. Although not pounding hard as earlier, it still came steady and heavy. Faith helped her mother pack sandwiches and cookies into boxes to take to the town hall. They’d been told that nearly fifty people were already there, but more were expected as the creek rose past the flood stage. Homes nearest the creek on the outskirts of town were now in danger of flooding.

  Aunt Ruby packed the last of the cookies and sealed her box. “This does it for now, but Irene is making more. I’ll take these, and you grab the sandwich boxes. We’ll have to hurry before we get soaked as well.”

  Faith untied her apron. The slickers the sheriff had given them would keep them dry enough, but they needed to protect the boxes and their contents. “I’m going to run out to the storage shed and get some of that old canvas out there. We can cut it and use it to cover the boxes.”

  “Good idea. I’ll wait here for you.” Aunt Ruby stacked the boxes on the counter.

  In a few minutes Faith returned with two pieces of the canvas. She and her aunt wrapped the stacks. “This should keep them dry.”

  Aunt Ruby nodded and slipped on her slicker. “Let’s go.”

  Rivulets of water flowed down Main Street. Once again Faith gave thanks for the bricks used to pave the streets from the courthouse down through the main part of town. They would have puddles of water, but no mud on the streets. With the protection over the sidewalks, they had only to run across the street here and then the one at the next block before being at the town hall.

  Slosh
ing through the puddles sent water up onto her stockings and soaked the hem of her skirt in the short distances between covered walkways. She couldn’t remember a rain as heavy, long, and steady as this had been since the afternoon. Darkness swallowed up everything in sight, and if Faith and her aunt hadn’t been so familiar with the streets, they could have been lost because no light came from any of the stores or businesses. Lanterns and lamps at the town hall helped give them a goal to reach.

  As they reached the town hall, a bolt of lightning split the sky, lighting up everything around it. Thunder roared less than a second later and shook the boardwalk on which she stood. The thunder hadn’t bothered her as much as what the moment of light had revealed. Water covered the ground beyond Main Street and flowed down from the church.

  She pushed through the door to the town hall to find frightened children crying and parents glancing about with fear in their eyes. Tom ran over to her.

  “Thank goodness you’re here with food. I hope more is on the way because more people have come since the mayor sent word to you.” He wrapped his arms around her load. “I’ll set these over on the table.”

  Faith followed him. “Mama is baking more cookies, and Aunt Ruby and I will go back and help with the sandwiches.” So many more people than she had imagined milled about the room or sat in small groups talking.

  Mrs. Whiteman came into the building carrying an armload of blankets. “I brought these extra from the infirmary in case anyone didn’t have one, and we have extra sheets and pillows as well.”

  Tom hurried up to take her load. “Thanks, Ma. I’m sure these will be put to good use. Faith and her aunt brought over the food just now, but they’re going back for more.”

  Angela appeared from behind a screen. “I’ll take that bedding and put it out, Mrs. Whiteman.”

  “Oh, thank you, dear. I’ll go with Faith and help with the food.”

  Faith bit her lip. “I’m worried about the town. The water seems to be rising down at your end, Mrs. Whiteman.”