The customer tapped the counter. “Miss? Hurry, please. I have other errands to run.”
Cora gave a jolt. “Yes, ma’am. You said … quarter pound of pepper and …”
The woman sighed. “A pound of salt.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cora filled the order, measuring carefully and rolling down the tops of the bags neatly as Ma Creeger had shown her. But when she opened the cashbox to drop the customer’s money inside, her gaze fell on the silver William Ellery watch that Miss Willems’s father had been given for Christmas in 1863. And she burst into tears.
Christina battled tears. Oh, how it pained her to part with Papa’s watch! The timepiece had been his pride and joy—the only extravagant item he owned. But how else would she raise money to purchase train tickets for herself and the twins? How else would she pay for plaster and paint to finish the walls of the poor farm kitchen? The mission board had ignored her repeated requests for funds. She couldn’t depend on anyone else to offer financial support. Besides, it was her fault that Louisa, Rose, Wes, Tommy, Joe, and Florie were all displaced. Somehow she had to repair the damage she’d done, and she knew no other option than to sell the watch.
“Miss Willems! Miss Willems!”
The excited shout brought Christina to a halt. She turned and spotted Wes running toward her in his awkward lope. His round face shone with joy. He’d be even happier when she told him she now had the funds to repair the house. She greeted him with a smile. “I have good news.”
“Me, too!” He nearly danced in place, his big hands repeatedly clasping and unclasping. “I been workin’ at the livery to earn my keep. An’ Mr. Taylor, he says I’ve done a right fine job.”
“Oh, Wes, I’m so proud of you.” She meant it. Wes worked hard and deserved praise.
“An’ ya know what? He wants to keep me on! Says he’s gettin’ older, can use a good, strong pair o’ hands around the place. His brother passed on to glory awhile back an’ left him a little house. He says I can live in it. A job an’ my own little house! Ain’t it a wonder, Miss Willems?”
Christina stared at him in shock. “You won’t be returning to the poor farm?”
Wes’s countenance dimmed. “Well, no, ma’am.”
By biting down on her lower lip, Christina held back a bevy of selfish questions. Who would push the plow? harvest the crops? feed the stock? She’d come to depend on Wes—perhaps too much.
He went on, wringing his hands in a fretful manner. “But don’t you worry. I’ll keep goin’ out an’ takin’ care o’ the poor farm critters until you all move back out there.” His brow furrowed. “Miss Willems, ain’tcha happy for me?”
She couldn’t bear to dash cold water on his excitement. She forced a smile. “Of course I am, Wes. I’m just surprised is all. I’m very happy for you. Truly I am.”
He beamed again. “Thank you, Miss Willems.” He began moving backward, almost skipping, his feet were so light. “Gotta get back to work now, but I wanted you to know. Bye!” He turned and loped off.
Christina watched until he turned the corner. She fingered the bill in her pocket. So, Wes wouldn’t live at the poor farm any longer. She needn’t mourn over him. It was a fine thing for him to be able to take care of himself—something Papa would have encouraged and celebrated, were he still alive. And soon she’d be so busy with the twins, Tommy, Rose, and Louisa, she’d hardly notice Wes was gone.
Her head low, she aimed her feet toward the boardinghouse again. As she moved past the butcher shop, Louisa stepped onto the boardwalk, a broom in hand. Her face lit when she spotted Christina. She set the broom aside and held out her arms. Christina moved eagerly into the embrace, sorely in need of comfort. When they parted, Christina held up the bill Mr. Creeger had given her. “Look, Louisa. I have ticket money now.”
Louisa’s faded eyes grew round as dinner plates. “Oh my, that’s a small fortune! Where’d you get it?”
Christina forced a smile and closed her fist around the money the way she wished to hold Papa’s watch. “The Lord provided.”
Louisa released a chortle of joy. She stuck her head inside the shop and bellowed, “Rose! Come here!”
Moments later Rose joined them, her face wreathed in worry. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter. Christina has travel money. She’s going after the twins.”
Rose raised her hands and crowed, “Hallelujah!” Then she sobered. “But the house isn’t ready. Where will you put them?”
“Back with the Spencers.” Christina slid her fist holding the ten dollar bill into her pocket. “They indicated a willingness to provide a temporary home for Joe and Florie. And with this money I can purchase plaster. Mr. Creeger said he’d go to the house in the evenings and plaster the kitchen as soon as the townsmen have the outside walls rebuilt.”
Rose clapped her hands. “Oh, glory! It won’t be long now, and we’ll all be together again.”
Christina cautioned, “We’ll have to wait for lumber, of course. Mr. Jonnson indicated he wouldn’t have more wood to spare until his new shipment of logs arrives. That could be the end of April.” The waiting was torturous, but Christina had little choice. As Papa used to say, beggars couldn’t be choosers. She’d have to bide her time at the boardinghouse until the lumber was available.
The pair of elderly women nodded soberly. Rose took Christina’s hand. “I’m not trying to be pushy—I know you’re a grown woman and capable of making your own decisions—but I don’t feel too comfortable about you traveling all the way to Topeka by yourself.”
Louisa gave a somber nod. “I agree. A woman traveling alone? Why, it’s deemed unseemly.”
The word unseemly pierced Christina. She pushed aside the recollection of someone else accusing her of being unseemly. “Regardless, I have little choice.” Who would travel with her? For reasons beyond her understanding, Levi Jonnson’s face appeared in her memory as if requesting him to accompany her would be more proper than traveling alone. She must be overly tired to entertain such a ridiculous thought.
Rose pursed her lips, clearly disapproving. “When do you intend to go?”
Christina gave an uncertain shrug. “I need to make arrangements with Mrs. Beasley to find a replacement. I don’t imagine she’ll be in much of a rush to do so. She seems perfectly content allowing me to handle the cooking and cleanup chores.”
Louisa let out a gasp and grabbed Christina’s arms. “I’ll do it!”
Christina stared at the older woman. “Are you sure? It’s a great deal of work.”
“Why, of course. I helped Cora those days you were ill, so I know what to do, and I don’t mind a bit. It’ll make me feel as though I’m helping you bring those youngsters home again.”
Christina threw her arms around Loiusa. “Thank you!” If Mrs. Beasley agreed, Christina could leave for Topeka on Monday’s train and be back with the children by Tuesday night.
Rose sidled up to Christina. “Honey, as much as I want to see those curly-haired scamps brought home, I still don’t like the idea of you going all the way to Topeka on your own. All sorts of ills can befall a woman traveling alone.”
Christina smiled—her first genuine smile in days. How the woman’s concern warmed her. “I’ll be fine, Rose. Truly I will.”
Rose drew back her shoulders and peered down her narrow nose at Christina. “Yes you will. Because, my dear, I’m going, too!”
Chapter 29
Levi rubbed a final application of linseed oil into the top of the finished buffet. The grain of the oak glowed like polished brass. Even though he’d chosen not to add embellishments such as engravings or decorative carvings, the buffet was beautiful—a real work of art. Any woman would be proud to store her finest dishes behind its raised panel doors. His hand stilled in its task, and he released a disgruntled huff. No woman would be using this buffet. It would go in the corner of his dining area to hold his simple tin plates.
Why was he thinking of women? Another derisive snort left his lip
s. Not women. One woman—Miss Willems. He couldn’t seem to erase her from his mind. And he knew why.
He angled his head to watch Tommy for a few moments. The boy sat cross-legged on the floor in the area Levi had cleared for him, fingers twisting the shredded lengths of canvas into a woven square. Every day, all day, for the past week the boy had dropped into that same spot and had performed the same task. When he reached the end of the lengths, he unraveled them and started again. Over and over and over …
He practiced with the same diligence Levi had witnessed on previous weeks, but over the past days—since last Sunday—he’d shown no delight in his work. He never smiled. He made no cheerful exclamations. No eager queries—“Mr. Jonnson, come look! Is it better this time?”—begged Levi to offer a word of praise. Tommy had retreated into a bubble of solitude that couldn’t be penetrated. Each day Levi’s concern for the boy grew.
He dipped his rag in the bowl of oil and returned to rubbing the buffet. Should he take Tommy to town and leave him with Miss Willems? Maybe she’d be able to break through the barriers the boy had built around himself. A feeling of failure swept over Levi, bending him forward. He pressed his palm to his forehead, fighting the urge to rail in fury at his helplessness. Why had he opened himself up to this boy? Once again he’d been forced to watch someone who mattered to him descend into a pit of melancholy.
A sigh—deep and burdened—came from behind him. He shifted to peer at Tommy, who’d bowed over his lap and buried his face in his arms. The boy’s shoulders shook in silent sobs. Levi had witnessed similar soundless outpourings of grief over the past days, but despite repeatedly asking Tommy to share the reason for his sorrow, the boy hadn’t spoken a word of explanation.
So this time, even though Levi longed to offer comfort, he remained rooted in place, his lips clamped tight, and waited for the tears to run their course. While he waited, he made the decision to return Tommy to town. To Miss Willems’s care. He couldn’t do anything more for Tommy than he could for Far all those years ago. And once Tommy was no longer under his roof—out of sight and hearing—he’d be able to go back to his solitary existence without having to worry about anyone but himself.
And he’d be happy. He would.
Christina scurried out the back door Sunday morning, her Bible in hand, as the church bells rang their invitation. Late … She disliked being late for service, but doing all the cleanup on her own took much longer than it had when she and Cora shared the responsibilities. Still, she wouldn’t bring Cora back to the boardinghouse even if she could. Clearly the young woman was flourishing in her new position with the Creegers as her mentors.
Jealousy coupled with regret stabbed, but she resolutely pushed the unwelcome emotions aside. Soon she’d be too busy to miss the residents who’d found other places to live. The mission board would allow her to return to the poor farm as its director. She refused to entertain any other idea. And in time new people would move in and rely on her for shelter and encouragement. As she’d learned over her years of serving with her father, there was always someone in need.
A striped lizard dashed from the rocks beside the path and nearly ran across her toes. Christina released a little shriek of surprise. At once a familiar voice called, “Are you all right?”
She whirled to find Mr. Jonnson’s wagon rolling toward her. Tommy sat beside the man on the seat. Elation and apprehension struck with equal force. She hadn’t seen either of them since last Sunday, when Mr. Jonnson had told her about Tommy’s reaction to the damaged wood. Although she’d intended to drive the poor farm wagon to the mill and discuss the situation with both of them, Mrs. Beasley hadn’t allowed her the time to do so.
Two quick strides brought her to the edge of the street, where Mr. Jonnson drew the wagon to a stop. “I’m fine,” she said in response to his question. “A lizard startled me, and—” The brim of her borrowed bonnet shielded the sun from her eyes as she peered upward at the pair of somber faces. “I believe I should ask you the same thing. Are you all right?”
Tommy stared straight ahead as if caught in a trance. Mr. Jonnson rested his elbows on his knees and sighed. “To be honest, Miss Willems, we’re not. Can you climb up on the seat? I need to talk to you.”
Christina looked toward town where the church’s steeple poked above the greening treetops and beckoned to her. She hadn’t missed a Sunday service for anything other than illness for as long as she could remember. What would Papa think? She turned to Mr. Jonnson, prepared to ask him to wait until the service was over, but something in his expression—a desperation—brought a different response. “Of course.”
He gave Tommy a little nudge. “Climb in the back, Tommy, so Miss Willems can come up.” Tommy, his lips set in a grim line, did as Mr. Jonnson had asked while the man hopped out of the wagon and trotted around the back to offer Miss Willems his hand. She found herself trembling as she placed her palm in his. From worry about whatever he wanted to discuss with her or a reaction to his nearness? She couldn’t be sure. She only knew the unfamiliar fluttery sensation within her breast left her breathless.
As soon as she’d settled herself on the seat, he climbed up behind her. She tucked her skirts back as he stepped over her feet and plopped down next to her. The seat bounced, and she grabbed the edge to keep from tipping against him. He offered a brief, apologetic look, then released the brake and took up the reins.
They rolled slowly toward the church, and Mr. Jonnson cleared his throat. “Miss Willems, I think it best if Tommy comes back to town to stay with you.”
She shot a look into the back, where Tommy sat with his arms folded over his chest. His gaze seemed aimed at the wagon’s bed. As she watched, he blinked, his thick eyelashes sweeping up and down so slowly his eyelids appeared weighted. Something was dreadfully wrong with the boy.
“Early next week I’ll start retrieving logs from the mouth of the Kansas River, and I won’t be able to take him with me. Nor can I leave him alone.”
Mr. Jonnson did nothing to soften his voice, which meant Tommy had heard everything. Yet he reacted not a bit. Christina’s worry increased with every word from Mr. Jonnson’s lips and every creak of the wagon wheels on the dirt street.
“Besides, he’s … not happy with me.” For the first time the man faltered. He gave a sharp yank on the reins, stopping the wagon a block short of the church. “He won’t talk. Hardly eats.”
Tommy’s chin began to quiver. The boy set his jaw, and the quivering stopped.
Mr. Jonnson went on. “I don’t know what to do for him.” He swallowed and looked into the back, where sunlight glistened on Tommy’s ruffled hair. “You take him before …” Lowering his head, he ran his hand over his face in slow, jerky increments as if he were erasing something unpleasant. Then he sighed. “Just take him.”
Christina leaned across the seat’s back and placed her hand on Tommy’s head. The boy gave a start, his shoulders stiffening, and then he scooted out of her reach. She pulled back her hand as abruptly as if he’d slapped her. With effort she maintained an even tone. “Tommy, I know you heard Mr. Jonnson say you aren’t happy with him. Is that correct?”
Tommy’s lips twitched briefly.
“You were happy before.” The boy had done everything in his power to make his way to Mr. Jonnson’s mill. “What’s changed, Tommy?”
Catching his lower lip between his teeth, Tommy angled his face away from Christina.
Mr. Jonnson touched Christina’s arm and shifted sideways in the seat, pinning her with a haunted look. “He says he hates me.” He grimaced. “And I believe him.”
Christina jerked her attention back to Tommy. His emotionless appearance baffled her as much as it worried her. What had happened to bring about such a change? She wouldn’t hear it from Tommy—at least not in Mr. Jonnson’s presence. Perhaps when she got him alone, he’d find the courage to share whatever troubled him.
But she couldn’t take him now. She’d already purchased train tickets—one for her, one fo
r Rose—for tomorrow’s early departure to Topeka. Mrs. Beasley had made it clear Tommy couldn’t stay at the boardinghouse, even though Christina was certain Louisa would be willing to look after him for a few days. No one else had been willing to harbor the boy.
“Mr. Jonnson, of course I want to take Tommy if he’s unhappy with you, but—”
“Not goin’ with you, Miss Willems.”
At the sullen outburst Christina and Mr. Jonnson exchanged a startled look. In unison they peered at Tommy.
The boy raised his chin high, anger emanating from his trembling frame. “Won’t stay with you neither, so no sense in takin’ me.”
A rumbling chuckle intruded from nearby. Mr. Jonnson looked past Christina’s shoulder, a frown marring his brow. Christina turned, and her breath caught in her throat. What was he doing here?
She gripped her Bible with both hands in an attempt to garner strength. “Can we assist you with something, Mr. Dresden?”
From the wagon bed Tommy emitted a sharp gasp.
Before Christina could respond to it, Hamilton Dresden sauntered to the edge of the wagon and peeked into the back. He waggled his brows. “Well, looky there. I thought that was Tommy’s voice I heard.” Another chuckle rolled. “How you doin’, boy?”
Tommy sat upright, eyes wide and palms planted on the worn planks of the bed. His head bobbed this way and that as if seeking an escape route.
“He’s fine.” Christina answered for Tommy.
“Oh, I can see that. I can see that he’s right as rain.” Dresden inched his way around the wagon as he talked. Tommy inched in the opposite direction at the same time. “What’samatter with you, boy? Cat got your tongue?” He laughed.
Mr. Jonnson stood. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re obviously upsetting Tommy. I’d like you to leave.”
Ham aimed a cocky grin at the mill owner and held his hands wide. “Why, now, mister, I ain’t intendin’ to upset the boy. Just bein’ friendly. An’ this here’s a public street. I reckon I got as much right as anybody to be standin’ on it.”
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