by Ann Shorey
Byrne gave the well-stocked shelves a brief survey. “So, let’s see this bakery.”
“Straight through the dining room.” He retraced his steps, with Byrne and Ruggero close behind.
Cassie had her back to them when they entered. Her fingers moved rapidly around the rim of a pie plate as she crimped the edges of a crust together. When she saw Jacob, she turned her head and smiled. At the sight of his two visitors, her expression changed to one of curiosity.
Across the room, Jenny paused, chopping knife in hand. Becca rested her hands on the edge of the dishpan.
Jacob broke the waiting silence. “Gentlemen. This is Miss Haddon, the baker; Mrs. Fielder, the cook; and Becca Rowan, their helper.” He pointed at each in turn. “As you can see, they’re fully occupied with tasks. I couldn’t offer three full meals a day and sell pies in the grocery without them.”
Byrne leered at Cassie. “I can see why you hired this one. And she can bake too?”
Fire raged in Jacob’s gut. One more word and he’d whack the man with a crutch. He took a deep breath. “Now that you’ve seen everything, I hope you’ll have a comfortable trip back to Boston.” He stomped through the entrance as fast as his leg would allow.
“Not so fast, Mr. West. I based part of my decision to buy Colin Riley’s share on the reports you sent him. Since I’ve come all this way, I’d like to see some of the businesses you mentioned in your letters. A cooperage, and you said something about a brickyard?”
Jacob slowed. “Yes, but the brickyard is several miles north of town. I’ll have Timothy, the clerk in the grocery, show you around.”
“I’d rather you accompanied us. I have a rented carriage out front.” Byrne and Ruggero moved to stand on either side of him. “Shall we go?”
23
Jacob sat wedged on the carriage seat between Mr. Byrne and his assistant. The streets bustled with Independence Day celebrants. Young boys ran along the boardwalk waving small flags. Firecrackers popped. Buggies carrying families all seemed to be headed in the direction of the town park across from the railroad tracks.
“Some of the men who come in for meals work in the cooperage. It’s on Commerce Street, down past the hotel, if you want to see it. After that I’ll direct you to Wylie’s wagon shop.”
Byrne grunted and guided the horse south. “So, Colin tells me he set you up here before the war.” His tone probed.
“He did.”
“And before that, you worked for him in Boston?”
“You already know the answer. Why are you asking me now?”
“Just making sure I’ve got the whole picture.”
He turned the carriage onto Commerce Street, then immediately jerked up on the reins. Buggies crowded the road in front of them. On their right, picnickers dotted the park lawn. Customers lined up at concession booths along the boardwalk. Inside the bunting-draped bandstand, musicians tuned their instruments.
Byrne glared at Jacob. “Is this your idea of a joke? If I want to see crowds, I’ll stay in Boston.”
He returned the man’s glare. “Independence Day. The store’s open, so I forgot about the celebration down here.” Inwardly he, too, chafed at the delay. The sooner the men saw the town, the sooner they’d leave.
Ruggero stirred on the seat and pointed. “Look there. The sign on that booth says ‘Beer and Libations.’ Want to stop?”
“We’re not here to spend the day with a bunch of yokels.” Byrne flicked the reins and guided the horse through the commotion, then turned right.
His scrawny assistant shot him a hard look. After shoving his bowler hat over his eyes, he slouched down in the seat.
“Relax, Lenny. We’ll have time later.” Byrne shifted his focus to Jacob. “Where’s this wagon shop?”
“A mile or two south. Follow Third Street out.” Jacob strove to maintain a polite tone. By the time they reached Wylie’s shop, the hour would be well past noon. He hoped Byrne would forget about seeing the brickyard.
When they reached Wylie’s, Byrne stopped the carriage in front of the sun-bleached building. No horses were tied to the hitching rail. The door was padlocked. “Another one of your little jokes, West?”
Jacob fought down an urge to plant his fist in the man’s smirking face. “You’re the one who wanted to tour Noble Springs today. Looks to me like most folks went to the celebration.” He tightened his jaw. “Might as well take me back to the grocery.”
Ignoring his suggestion, Byrne turned the carriage around. “How far’s the brickyard?”
“From here? About eight miles.” Jacob clamped his hands on his thighs. Eight miles out and back over a rough country road would take too much time. He’d promised Cassie they’d leave by seven. “Going to be the same thing, though. The workers will probably be in town.”
“How do I know there’s a brickyard out there? You could’ve invented it to make your decisions to hire extra help look better than they are.”
“Sit back.” Rugerro sneered at Jacob. “When the boss says he’s going to do something, he does it.”
As Jacob expected, when they reached the northern end of town the road changed from graded to rocky. Byrne slowed the carriage to avoid the worst of the jolts, but each bump sent a shot of pain up Jacob’s right leg. He gritted his teeth and endured. He wouldn’t give Byrne the satisfaction of hearing him groan.
They rode in silence until they saw two beehive-shaped kilns when they rounded a curve. After drawing abreast of the yard, Byrne stopped the carriage. “No one’s around.”
“I didn’t think anyone would—”
“We’ll get out and have a look.” Byrne hopped down and tied the horse to a rail. “Come on, West.”
Jacob surveyed the uneven ground. The desire to remain in the carriage and favor his leg warred with his determination not to be intimidated. He huffed out a breath, grabbed his crutches, and joined Byrne and Ruggero inside the brickyard fence.
Afternoon sun slanted across a mud pit. A stack of empty six-brick forms waited nearby. Byrne walked to a storage shed, his head cocked as he studied the contents. Jacob imagined him counting the bricks and estimating how many men the business employed.
In a moment, the man faced him. “Got to hand it to you. Looks like your ideas are sound. Glad you thought of a bakery—looks like a money-maker.”
Jacob blinked. The last thing he’d expected was a compliment. He opened his mouth to respond, but Byrne continued.
“Since the business was smaller when you started, I think it’s time to renegotiate Colin’s agreement. I deserve a larger share.”
“The ideas are mine. So are the profits.”
“That might have satisfied Colin. I don’t work that way.”
Jacob thrust his chin in the air. If this Boston bully thought he could intimidate him, he’d better think again. “You’ll have to. You deserve nothing more than what he originally intended.”
“How about I give you a little time to think about it?” Byrne turned to Ruggero and nodded in the direction of the carriage. “Get in. We’ve got a train to catch.”
They strode across the brickyard. Jacob struggled to follow at their pace, but the muddy ground dragged at his crutches.
As the carriage pulled away, Ruggero hollered over his shoulder, “Enjoy your walk, Jake Westermann.”
Cassie walked through the deserted dining room, her record book tucked under her arm, while Jenny and Becca finished their chores in the kitchen. Because of the holiday, they’d had few supper patrons. She’d have plenty of time to change her dress and rearrange her hair before Jacob called for her at seven.
When she entered the grocery, Timothy grinned at her. “Time to lock up, Miss Haddon. You going to see the fireworks show?”
“Yes, indeed. I want to give today’s receipts to Mr. West first, though. Is he in his office?”
The boy looked surprised at the question. “No. Haven’t seen him all afternoon.”
“Then what—” She glanced at the shelf where Jacob
kept his cash box. “I’d better hide that away. He must be planning to come in tomorrow.”
“I expect so, miss. You know how he is about the receipts.”
She knew all too well. After Timothy left, she hid the box in Jacob’s office, but didn’t go near his ledger.
On her way home, she heard snatches of band music coming from the park. Excitement tickled in her throat at the thought of spending the evening watching fireworks. Her uncle had deemed such a pastime worldly, so she hadn’t been allowed to go when she and Mother lived in St. Louis.
For a moment she felt disloyal. What if Calusa didn’t hold an Independence Day celebration? Maybe her mother was sitting at home alone. Her steps slowed as she recalled Mother’s most recent letter. She’d mentioned a growing friendship with a woman who owned a rooming house.
Praying the two of them had plans for the evening, Cassie darted across the street and hurried into her cabin. Tonight she’d wear her rose-colored chintz dress. Jacob hadn’t seen that one.
The sun had settled toward the horizon by the time she felt satisfied with her appearance. After draping her embroidered muslin mantelet over her shoulders, she took one final glance at herself in the mirror. Spots of color brightened her cheeks at the thought of sitting close to Jacob as the sky darkened and brilliant rockets blazed across the heavens.
She crossed to the next room and opened the door to catch stray breezes, then perched on the edge of a chair to wait. The setting sun cast on orange glow over the path to her cabin. After a few minutes, the light faded. A breeze scuffed through a patch of coneflowers planted beside the alley.
Cassie stepped outside. The fireworks would start soon. If Jacob didn’t hurry, they’d miss the show. She peered down the alley, seeing nothing but a yellow tabby cat licking a front paw. It wasn’t like Jacob to be late for anything.
She returned to the cabin and lit the lamp. The last thing she wanted was to be caught staring out the door like a child waiting for Papa to come home. She grabbed a book from her meager collection, plopped down on a chair, and opened a page at random. Her mind wouldn’t focus on the words. Instead, she tried to imagine what Jacob might have found so important that he’d forget their plans.
After reading the same paragraph several times, she snapped the cover shut and paced to the open door. The first stars of the evening twinkled overhead. She listened for hoofbeats, but heard none.
She slammed the door and blew out the lamp.
The next morning, Cassie marched to church with her head high. Jacob had attended with her the past two weeks, but if he couldn’t be bothered to take her to the fireworks, he probably wouldn’t show up at church, either. If he decided to join her, fine. If not, that was fine too.
She slid into a pew next to Rosemary and Elijah.
Rosemary shifted little Josephine in her arms and arched an eyebrow. “Where’s Jacob this morning?” She spoke in a whisper.
“I don’t have the slightest idea, and I don’t care.”
Rosemary blinked. “What—” She stopped when Reverend French stepped to the pulpit and opened a hymnal.
He sent the congregation a beatific smile. “Please stand and join me in singing ‘O Day of Rest and Gladness.’” Pews creaked and dresses rustled as worshipers rose. Cassie felt anything but glad, but she sang anyway. As her anger at Jacob faded, tears threatened. Had he changed his mind? Was ignoring her his way of avoiding commitment?
She pondered her questions as she listened to Reverend French preach from the first chapter of the General Epistle of James. When he read, “Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath. For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God,” she squirmed in her seat. She definitely felt wrathy toward Jacob. She bowed her head. Please, Lord, help me to know what to do.
When she stepped outside after the closing hymn, the first thing she noticed was Wash standing at the foot of the steps. Worry creased his forehead.
She ran to him, her heart slamming against her ribs. “Wash! Why are you here? Where’s Jacob?”
“His leg took a bad turn on him.” He twisted his worn hat between his fingers. “He said to ask if you’d kindly come to the store.”
“Come to the store? The grocery’s closed on Sundays.”
“Yes, missy. But that’s where he is. Would you come?”
She stared down at her clasped hands. When she asked the Lord to show her what to do, she hadn’t expected such a quick answer. Lifting her head, she met Wash’s anxious gaze. “All right. I’ll go with you.”
24
Cassie walked the block up Third Street to West & Riley’s, Wash following a few paces behind. Her stomach churned. Jacob left her waiting all last evening without sending word. Now he expected her to meet him in the store, rather than calling for her with his buggy. And why did Wash appear so anxious? She exhaled a long breath. In a moment she’d have her answers.
Upon reaching the grocery, she stepped to one side while Wash unlocked the door. Mingled aromas of vinegar, coffee, and tobacco greeted her when she entered the quiet room. She glanced around, expecting to see Jacob.
“He’s in back, missy. In his office.” Wash paused at the entrance to the deserted dining room. “I’ll wait in the kitchen ’til he’s fixing to leave.”
“Thank you.” She crossed to the storeroom and peeked around the doorway.
Jacob sat at his workable, his injured leg resting on a packing crate. In the lamplight, his skin looked gray. Deep grooves channeled either side of his mouth. The lines disappeared into a broad smile when he saw her.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come today. You must be thinking the worst of me.”
“I don’t know what to think.” Be swift to hear, slow to speak. “I waited for you until well past dark.”
He winced as though she’d delivered a blow. “Will you forgive me? You were on my mind every moment, but I had no way to reach you.”
“You could’ve sent Wash, like you did this morning.” She perched on a chair facing him.
“Wash wasn’t with me, or I would have.”
“Then what happened to you? Wash said something about your leg.”
“I’m afraid I might have set back the healing. The pain is . . . rough.” He swallowed, his face grim. “But I had to see you this morning. I have to know you’ll forgive me.”
“Oh, Jacob. Of course I forgive you.” She reached for his hand. “You can’t be blamed for an accident. What happened? Did you fall?”
An uneasy expression crossed his face. “Yes. I was walking on rough ground and stumbled.”
“Walking on rough ground? With crutches? Why would you do such a thing?” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I have no right to speak to you like that.”
“You have more right than anyone. I’m grateful you care.”
“You know I do.”
“Cassie, I—” He clamped his lips shut and sucked in a long breath. “I’m going to stay at home and rest my leg for the next week. Would you take care of the receipts . . . and the ledger?” He patted the green leather book.
She felt a swell of triumph. He trusted her. “I’d be glad to.” She grinned at him. “See, you’re not too old to change after all.”
After Cassie left, Jacob unscrewed the posts that held his ledger together. He lifted the front cover and removed the page where he’d listed names. After folding the sheet into a rectangle, he tucked it into his pocket and then replaced the cover.
Cassie’s caring attitude tempted him to tell her the whole story behind his miles-long walk back to Noble Springs. He’d come close, but lost his courage at the last moment. The risk was too great. If she’d known him during his early days in Boston, she’d have crossed the street when she saw him coming. In fact, she wouldn’t have walked on the same streets he frequented.
Ruggero’s taunt was as much a setback as the pain in his leg. He doubted that sending Byrne a larger share of West & Riley’s profits
would protect him from eventual exposure.
When he heard footsteps, he turned his head toward the entrance.
“Wash?”
“Right here. You ready to leave?” He’d filled out in the weeks since he’d been hired. Now his bulk complemented his height of over six feet.
Jacob nodded. “Please help me to the buggy.” Gritting his teeth, he tried to suppress a groan when Wash hoisted him from the chair.
“Did you tell her how bad you’re hurtin’?”
“I said I was staying home to rest my leg.”
“She cares about you. Maybe she’ll bake you another pie.” Wash chuckled as he handed him the crutches. “I brought the buggy around front so’s you don’t have far to walk.”
“Thank you.” With the other man’s help, he crossed to the boardwalk and stopped at the passenger side of the buggy. Wash held him steady while he negotiated the step.
Jacob fell back against the seat. “Again, thank you.”
“That was a sorry trick those two pulled. If I hadn’t been late leaving last night, I’d never have seen you.”
He managed a mirthless laugh. “You’d have seen me sooner or later. I’d have slept on the floor of the grocery rather than walk another step. The bottoms of my feet are bruised from the rocks, not to mention the pounding my leg suffered.”
Wash untied the reins, then guided the buggy west on High Street. Noontime sun glared down on their heads. After a moment or two of silence he said, “You’re not goin’ to let this go, are you?”
“No, I’m not.” He turned his head away, staring at the roadway as the buggy rolled out of town. His mind buzzed with the implications of Lenny Ruggero calling him by his former name. He and Byrne had not merely disrupted his time with Cassie, they threatened him with exposure.
The day would come—soon—when he’d have to take action.
After West & Riley’s closed the following Saturday evening, Cassie sat in Jacob’s office entering the day’s receipts into the ledger. Another good week. Jacob would be pleased when he returned on Monday.