What Once Was Lost

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Louisa sighed. “Not a hint of when she might return. It just said, ‘Delayed. Visiting Kansas City with twins.’ Visiting! As if she has money for such a treat.”

  Ma Creeger shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll share the entire adventure with you when she comes home. And if it isn’t by Saturday, then she’ll have a nice surprise waiting, with some of the repairs already done at the poor farm.”

  “I suppose that’s true …” Louisa fingered a card with four mother-of-pearl buttons. Her gaze drifted to the button beneath Cora’s chin. “Why, look here, these match your dress just right, Cora. I admired your new dress at church last Sunday. Did you buy it here in the store?”

  Cora smoothed her hands over her hips, pride filling her. “Yes, ma’am. Found it on the dress rack and paid for it with my clerkin’ money.” It felt mighty good to be able to see to her own needs.

  Louisa gave Cora a lingering look-over. “You chose a good color. The blue makes your cheeks seem pinker. You’ve always been so pale and thin.” Her gaze seemed to settle on Cora’s midsection. A light chuckle left her throat. “Of course, here of late you’ve been filling out some.” Louisa reached out as if to give her stomach a light pat. “Mrs. Creeger must feed you—”

  Cora jerked backward so fast her head spun. She caught hold of the edge of the counter to keep herself from falling flat.

  “Why, Cora!” Ma Creeger took a step toward her, concern lining her face.

  Cora braced herself for the questions that were sure to come. But before Ma Creeger said anything, the mercantile bell announced an arriving customer.

  Louisa eased toward the door, sending Cora a puzzled look. “I’d better get back to the boardinghouse. It’ll be time to start the evening meal soon. So …” She moved past the man who’d shown up on the boardinghouse back stoop awhile back. He tipped his hat, but Louisa didn’t pay him any mind as she scurried out the door. The man shrugged and ambled to the counter.

  “Howdy, ma’am. I’m Ham—Hamilton Dresden.” He plopped his hat on the wooden top and rested his elbows on either side of it, idly grinning at Ma Creeger. “Can you fetch the owner for me?”

  “That’s me.” Ma Creeger smiled, but Cora noticed she wasn’t as friendly as usual. Either she was uncomfortable around the man, or she was still thinking about why Cora had jumped away from Louisa’s touch. Shame burned through her swollen belly. Louisa had skedaddled in such a hurry. Would everyone run from her when they learned the truth? She eased behind the apple barrel.

  “You sure?” Dresden raised one eyebrow. “Don’t know of many businesses owned by a lady.” He barked out a laugh.

  Ma Creeger wiped her hands on her apron. “My husband and I own the mercantile together. But if you’d rather talk to him …”

  “I’d like to talk to you both if you don’t mind.” He glanced around the store. “He here?”

  Ma Creeger looked at Cora. “Cora, would you call Jay from the storage shed, please?”

  Cora hated to leave Ma Creeger alone with Hamilton Dresden. Miss Willems didn’t like him, and he gave her a funny feeling. But she couldn’t refuse. She gave a quick nod and trotted as quick as she could to the backyard where Pa Creeger was arranging a new shipment of plows and harrows in the shed. He whacked the dust from his britches as he followed Cora. When they entered the back door, Cora heard Ma Creeger exclaim, “What are you doing with that?”

  A concerned look crossed Pa Creeger’s face. He zinged past Cora, and she broke into an awkward run behind him. They burst onto the store floor, and Pa Creeger went straight to his wife. “What’s the matter, Mary Ann?”

  Panting, Cora reached the end of the counter as Ma Creeger pointed to a silver disk cradled in Dresden’s hand. “Jay, look what he’s got.”

  Cora leaned forward slightly. The man held a watch—with etchings exactly like the one Miss Willems had. It even had a tiny nick near the clasp, the same as hers.

  Dresden chuckled. “You folks act like you’ve never seen a watch before. I took it out to check the time—wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be late for an important meeting at the hotel. Soon as I brung it out, the lady here got all excited.”

  Pa Creeger extended his hand, and Dresden amiably plopped the watch into his palm. Pa Creeger turned the watch this way and that, then rubbed his thumb on the nick. He frowned at the man. “Is this your watch?”

  “Has been since this past Sunday.” Dresden reached across the counter and plucked the watch from Pa Creeger’s hand. “Used to belong to Miss Christina Willems. You folks know her? She an’ her pa ran the poor farm.” He shook his head, poking out his lips in a sad pout. “Such a sad, sad thing—what happened out there. But much as it pains me to say so, I’m not surprised.”

  Cora nearly danced in place, nervousness making her edgy. Wes had told her this man wasn’t to be trusted. Miss Willems had seemed downright scared of him. She wanted to warn the Creegers not to listen to him, but she couldn’t find the words.

  Ma Creeger shifted closer to her husband. “Surprised about what?”

  He acted shocked by the question. “Why, that fire of course. Something was bound to happen by and by, seein’ as how the place didn’t have no man in charge.” He touched his lips with his fingertips and ducked his head in a humble manner. “No offense to you, dear lady, but womenfolk … Well, lemme just say there’s a reason God plucked out one o’ Adam’s ribs to make the first lady. It was His way of showin’ that a woman needs a man’s arm tucked around her. Miss Willems, she wouldn’t let any man give her help. I tried—heaven knows how I tried.” His eyes beseeched the couple to believe him. “But she wanted to do it all by herself in her own way. An’ look what it got her … a fire-burned house.”

  “That doesn’t explain how you came to have her watch,” Pa Creeger said.

  Cora silently cheered. Pa Creeger was too smart to be taken in by this fellow. She held her breath, waiting for Dresden to answer.

  “Well …” He rubbed his chin, pushing his whiskery skin back and forth. “I come by it when she sold it.”

  Pa Creeger’s frown deepened. “To you?”

  The man released a throaty chuckle. “How else would I come by it?”

  An uneasy feeling scampered up Cora’s spine. Miss Willems wasn’t at church Sunday. And the sheriff said the cashbox probably got emptied on Sunday. How many letters had the woman sent requesting money, only to be told no again and again? Had she finally lost patience and done something … Cora shook her head hard, dispelling the unwelcome thoughts. Of course Miss Willems wouldn’t steal!

  Dresden continued. “She’s probably tryin’ to get money in hand to make a new start somewheres else since the mission board’s told her she can’t live at the poor farm no more.”

  Ma Creeger grabbed for her husband’s hand. “That isn’t true! Why, several townsmen are planning to work on the house the day after tomorrow. The owner of Jonnson Millworks is donating the lumber. All the work is at Christina’s request. Why would she go to such trouble if she didn’t intend to live there?”

  Cora couldn’t stay silent. “That’s right, mister. Miss Willems wouldn’t try so hard to fix up the place if it wasn’t gonna be her home.”

  Dresden angled his head to the side and shrugged with the opposite shoulder. “I can’t rightly say what she’s thinkin’. She’s a hard one to figure. But I reckon you can ask her when she comes to the mercantile next. You, um, seen her lately?”

  Pa Creeger frowned. “She’s out of town.”

  “That so?”

  Cora blurted, “She went to Topeka on Monday to get Joe and Florie so we can all go home.” But then what was she doing in Kansas City? Cora’s stomach twisted into knots. She wished Miss Willems was here to explain everything.

  Dresden quirked one eyebrow. “Mm-hmm … Topeka. That’s what—less’n a half-day’s journey? An’ she left on Monday, you say?” He held his hands wide. The silver watch caught the light and sent a shaft of white across the room. “Then why ain’t she back?”


  Ma Creeger took on a fierce look. “Mr. Dresden, I don’t like what you’re implying. Why, Christina Willems is a fine young woman who serves her Lord.”

  Pa Creeger marched from behind the counter. “I agree with my wife. I think it best if you leave.”

  Dresden chuckled. He slipped the watch into his pocket and picked up his hat. “All right. If that’s what you want, I’ll go. But throwin’ me out the door don’t change nothin’. She’s still gone, seemingly with enough money for a lengthy time away. You reason it all out your own selves.”

  “We will.” Pa Creeger ushered Dresden out the door and closed it behind him. He stood for a moment, staring out the glass. Then with an abrupt motion he turned the lock. Ma Creeger bustled up behind him and touched his arm. He held it out, and she snugged herself against his ribs, tucked up close, the way Dresden said women should be. Pa Creeger sighed. “Mary Ann, how do you suppose he got that watch?”

  Ma Creeger rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I can’t believe it was from Christina. We need to see the sheriff.”

  Cora gulped, relief flowing over her. With them focused on the watch and how Dresden had gotten it, they weren’t thinking about her and Louisa’s hand reaching for her swollen belly.

  Chapter 33

  Saturday morning Tommy inched his way to the edge of the porch. His seeking hands found a post, and he sank down, leaning his shoulder against the sturdy wood and stretching out his legs. The air was cool, still a little dewy, but heat from the sun soaked through his britches to his legs underneath. A bird sang from somewhere nearby. Wind whispered in the trees. The river added its song. The morning sounded beautiful.

  Behind him the door latch clicked, and then boots clomped across the porch—Mr. Jonnson. He stopped, so close his pant leg brushed against Tommy’s arm. Tommy hugged the post.

  A sigh, then the man spoke. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? You’ve been alone quite a bit already this week.”

  He’d sometimes been lonely, staying in the house by himself while Mr. Jonnson traveled upriver to retrieve logs for cutting. But being lonely was better than letting himself get attached to Mr. Jonnson again. Getting attached meant getting hurt all over again. He’d protect himself from now on. “I’m fine.”

  “Well …” A slight creaking sound told Tommy the man had shifted in place on the porch boards—a sign he wasn’t certain what he should do.

  “Just go on.” Tommy grabbed the porch post and pulled himself upright hand over hand. “I’ll use the rope and go to the mill—do some caning.” He jutted his chin. “I won’t bother nothin’ I shouldn’t.”

  A hand descended on Tommy’s shoulder. The touch was gentle yet firm. “I trust you, Tommy.” Mr. Jonnson spoke kindly, but Tommy also heard some sadness in his tone. There’d been sadness in his voice a lot lately. Guilt tried to take hold, but Tommy refused the emotion. Mr. Jonnson might say he trusted Tommy, but he wouldn’t if he knew the secret Tommy carried. And he didn’t dare tell, or something worse than a kitchen fire would happen.

  Tommy pulled away from the man’s hand. “Then go. Leave me be.”

  The bird kept singing. The wind kept whispering. The river kept flowing. But on the porch silence fell. Tommy sensed Mr. Jonnson staring hard at him. Maybe with his hands on his hips. Maybe with anger on his face. Or maybe more sadness. Tommy tipped his head this way and that way, wanting to see. But all the wanting in the world didn’t change the darkness.

  Finally Mr. Jonnson cleared his throat. “All right. I shouldn’t be gone as long today. I’ll be back before noon for sure so we can have lunch together.”

  As much as Tommy wanted to stay mad, he was pleased he wouldn’t have to sit at the table and eat a cold sandwich all alone. Even so, he set his lips in a firm line and didn’t answer.

  Clomp, clomp, clomp … Mr. Jonnson left the porch. Minutes later horses’ hoofs and wagon wheels crunching across hard ground signaled his departure. Tommy listened until he couldn’t hear the wagon any longer. Then he eased himself back to his perch, curled his arm around the porch post, and stared into nothingness.

  Levi drew the horses to a stop outside the mercantile. The list in his pocket wasn’t as long as some weeks, but this time it contained items he wouldn’t ordinarily buy. Licorice whips. A boy-sized hat. And a harmonica. He’d caught Tommy humming while he worked. Maybe the boy would enjoy creating music on one of the pocket-size instruments. Bribes, every last one of them, but he’d run out of other ideas. Before he returned to the mill, he’d stop by the boardinghouse and talk to Miss Willems about Tommy.

  As he’d noted on previous Saturdays, the mercantile buzzed with activity. Mr. and Mrs. Creeger and Cora were all helping other customers, so he snagged an empty crate from the supply near the storeroom door and ambled up and down the aisles, seeing to his own needs. Snippets of conversation reached his ears as he added items to the crate.

  “… still hasn’t come back. Think maybe she was the one who …”

  “… out there working on those walls, but I have to wonder why since …”

  “… lived at the poor farm for a while, so I reckon he’d know better’n most how …”

  Levi had never been one to listen to gossip. Living out away from town, he didn’t have the opportunity to turn an ear to it. But mostly, having been hurt by gossip in the past, he’d made it a point not to involve himself in speculating about others’ lives. Today, however, the nervous whispers and half-fearful musings stirred his curiosity.

  When he plunked his crate on the counter and Mr. Creeger approached to tally things up, Levi found himself asking, “What’s all this prattle?”

  The mercantile owner scowled. “Oh, you know how folks get to chewing on a topic, and one thing leads to another. I don’t care how it looks. I don’t believe for a minute Miss Willems stole back her watch and emptied my cashbox.”

  Levi jolted as if poleaxed. “What?”

  Mr. Creeger began removing items from the crate and stacking them on the counter. He set them down with solid thumps, as if expelling irritation. “To accuse a good Christian woman like Miss Willems … Just because she decided to go to Kansas City, that’s no reason to—”

  Levi shook his head hard, confusion making his ears ring. “I don’t follow anything you’re saying. What about Miss Willems emptying your cashbox? And what’s she doing in Kansas City?”

  Understanding registered on the man’s face. “I’m sorry. I forgot you live out away from the town’s tittle-tattle.” He released a little humph. “Makes you a lucky man, to my way of thinking.” He pushed the crate aside. “Last weekend, most likely while we were all in church, somebody came into the mercantile and helped himself to the contents of my cashbox. He took every dollar I’d made the week before and a silver William Ellery watch I’d bought from Miss Willems. Then on Monday, Miss Willems boarded a train for Topeka. She told everybody she was going to retrieve the twins who’d lived out at the poor farm with her, but she hasn’t come back yet. Folks are speculating she skedaddled to start a new life somewhere else.”

  Levi tried to absorb everything Mr. Creeger had said. As he put the pieces together, fury writhed through his gut. Miss Willems wouldn’t steal—he knew that from the very depth of his being. He didn’t know why she’d stayed away so long, but she loved the poor farm and its residents too much to walk away from them without an explanation. He glanced around the store, examining the faces of people who’d lived beside Miss Willems for years. How could they turn on her so easily? He gritted his teeth.

  Mr. Creeger continued, his voice taking on a hard edge. “Add to that, Mr. Hamilton Dresden is marching all over town, flashing that watch and speaking ill of Miss Willems, and you’ve got a mess that won’t be settled until Miss Willems comes back and sets everything straight.”

  Levi whirled back to face the mercantile owner. “You said Hamilton Dresden has Miss Willems’s watch?”

  Mr. Creeger nodded.

  “Then it seems pretty plain to
me he’s your thief.”

  The man held out his hands in a helpless gesture. “I said as much to the sheriff. But until he talks to Miss Willems and can get both sides of the story and disprove what Dresden’s saying, he can’t arrest the man. He did tell Dresden not to leave town just yet.” He shook his head sadly. “If only Miss Willems would come back and explain where she’s been. Until she does, the rumors will keep flying. My wife’s half sick over it all.”

  Levi gnawed the inside of his cheek. Unpleasant memories crowded his mind. He couldn’t let Miss Willems be hurt the way he’d been hurt. The scars inflicted by thoughtless tongues never completely heal. The protectiveness he felt toward the woman took him by surprise. Why did he care so much? He couldn’t explain it. He only knew the feelings were real and strong and sure. He slapped the counter so hard his palm stung. “She didn’t do it.”

  “You don’t have to convince me,” Mr. Creeger said. He returned to tallying Levi’s purchases. “But if you’ve got some kind of evidence to support her, you might want to share it with the sheriff. He intends to have a long talk with her as soon as she gets back.”

  Levi blew out a breath. “Mr. Creeger, do you mind if I leave these things here for a little while? I … I need to run another errand.”

  “Why, sure. No problem at all.” The man hefted Levi’s crate off the counter and set it on the floor. “Take as much time as you need. It’ll be here when you return.”

  “Thanks.” Levi spun and charged out onto the boardwalk. Fool people. Fool, gullible people believing the likes of Hamilton Dresden over a fine woman like Miss Christina Willems. By the time he finished with the sheriff, the town would be singing another tune.

  The house always felt confining when Tommy was alone, so he’d followed the rope to the mill and spent the first hour of the morning twisting the lengths of canvas into the same pattern as the chair’s seat had. He couldn’t be completely sure it matched. The smooth cane and the rough canvas had such different textures. But he thought it was close. The overlapped bumps and tiny square open places felt the same. He’d have to ask Mr. Jonnson to be sure, though.