Love's Sweet Beginning
Page 28
Men in the fire brigade ran toward them, water sloshing from the buckets they carried. Someone yelled, “It’s on the roof. We’ll never stop it now. This wind ain’t helping, neither.”
Tears poured down Cassie’s cheeks. Jacob’s beloved business, burning, and she’d caused the fire.
Jacob. She clutched Timothy’s shirt. “Jacob’s in there. He went to get his papers.”
He glanced down the alley toward the grocery. Black smoke curled from the roof of the storeroom. A window shattered somewhere behind them.
Timothy shook his head. “He probably went out the front door,” he said, without conviction. His face mirrored her fears.
She whirled away and ran around to the front of the building. Fragments of ash swirled overhead like malignant snowflakes. Cinders fell on her dress. Through smoke-blurred windows she saw fire raging in the dining room. Pounding past, she stopped at the grocery entrance and reached for the door handle.
Someone pushed her out of the way and then threw a bucket of water against the clapboard siding. Sweat ran down the stranger’s face. “Git out of here, miss. You could be hurt.”
“Jacob—Mr. West is inside. Please, help.”
He stared at her, then back at flames eating their way around a window frame. “No one’s going in there.”
She lunged for the door, but he shoved her aside. “Git along. We got a fire to fight.”
Sobbing uncontrollably, she crossed the street, skirting around men running back and forth with buckets. Every time water hit the fire, the snakelike flames hissed and ducked, then rose somewhere else. She scanned every sooty face, looking in vain for Jacob.
A cry went up. “The roof’s going. Back off.” Firefighters scattered as the center of the building collapsed in a shower of embers. Flames shot toward the sky.
Cassie bowed her head and stumbled toward her cabin.
45
Cassie sat in numb silence for what felt like hours. The commotion from the street gradually quieted. Somehow the silence was worse than the shouts. West & Riley’s was gone, and Jacob with it.
The last words she’d hurled at him were angry ones. Dropping to her knees, she pressed her blistered hands against her ears to muffle the echoes of their argument, then huddled into a ball and yielded to shattering sobs.
Metal grated on metal as someone turned her door latch. She opened tear-blurred eyes and saw a soot-covered apparition leaning on a stick. His clothes were torn and pocked with holes. Dark brown eyes shone from his blackened face.
She rocked back on her heels, certain she’d lost her senses.
In another moment, strong hands lifted her from the floor. “I thought I’d lost you for good. Timothy said you’d gone in the front of the store.”
“Jacob.” She touched his dirt-streaked face. “I thought you were dead.” Her knees buckled.
He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her back and forth. “I’m here.” His deep voice rumbled in her ear.
She twisted away. “The store’s gone. It’s my fault. How can you stand to look at me?”
“When I thought you’d died, I realized you matter more than anything else. We can rebuild the store.”
“You said . . . we?”
“Everything that was in that building can be replaced—but you’re irreplaceable.” A smile lifted his singed moustache. “I love you, Cassie. While I searched for you, I made a bargain with God. I promised him as soon as we’re married I’d take you to your mother.”
She flung her arms around his waist and breathed in his smoke-tinged Jacob smell. “I love you, Jacob West.”
His grip tightened around her as their lips met. For a long, breathtaking moment she sampled the bliss that their marriage promised.
When he released her, she smiled up at him.
“Just think,” she said, “we’ll be the first honeymoon couple to stay in the Price City Hotel.”
Epilogue
SEPTEMBER 28, 1868
Cassie stared out the window of the passenger car as the train rolled into Price City. Her stomach tumbled at the prospect of bringing her mother and Jacob together.
He squeezed her hand. “I promise I’ll be polite.”
“I’m not worried about how you’ll act.” She leaned close and kissed his cheek. “Mother’s bound to be distraught. I just pray she doesn’t take her loss out on us.”
Jacob stood and brought his valise down from the overhead rack, then reached up for Cassie’s. “We’ll find out soon enough. Our telegram told her we’d arrive today, so at least she’s had time to prepare herself.”
The setting sun blazed over their surroundings as they stepped from the train onto the platform. Since her July visit, Price City had fulfilled Uncle Rand’s prediction and showed signs of growth. Streets had been graded between the railroad tracks and the hotel, a few small cabins dotted the landscape, and several larger buildings were in various stages of construction. A telegrapher’s shack sat at the far end of the platform.
Cassie scanned the people milling about while Jacob collected their trunk from the baggage car. No sign of her mother. Perhaps she’d taken to her bed, the way she’d done when they got word of Cassie’s father’s death.
“Baggage master said there’s a driver—” Jacob stopped and pointed. “Isn’t that your mother?”
A woman dressed in black tied a team and buckboard to a hitching rail behind the telegraph shed. When she spotted Cassie and Jacob, she turned and moved toward them with hesitant steps, then at the last moment opened her arms and ran to Cassie.
“I’m so thankful you’re here! Until I received your telegram, I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” She hugged her daughter and stepped back, extending a trembling hand to Jacob. “Mr. West. It was good of you to escort Cassie. Thank you.”
Jacob took her hand in both of his. “She’s my wife now, Mrs. Bingham. That makes us family. Please call me Jacob.”
Cassie’s spirits soared at his gracious tone.
“Jacob.” Mother’s voice emerged in a croak. “How is it you can leave your store to travel?”
“The building burned week before last. Right now I have no store.”
Cringing at the memory, Cassie sucked in a breath, wishing they could talk about something else.
Mother’s eyes widened. “Burned! But . . . how will you support my daughter if you don’t have an income?”
As though sensing Cassie’s discomfort, Jacob slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “The business was insured. As soon as we return, we’ll begin construction on a new West & Riley’s—with a bigger bakery for Cassie.”
She smiled up at him and relaxed against his side, certain the Lord had blessed her with the best husband in the world.
“Well.” Mother blew out a breath and shifted her gaze to the buckboard. “I brought the hotel wagon for your baggage. As soon as you’re ready, we must get back. I need to help Fred with supper.”
Surprised at her mother’s casual reference to the cook she’d once called an odious man, Cassie followed her to the buckboard.
A wide veranda stretched across the front of the hotel. Several rocking chairs waited in the shade of the roof. A tidy sign next to the door read
CARTER HOUSE
ROOMS BY DAY OR WEEK
“‘Carter House’?” Cassie turned to her mother as the three of them climbed the steps to the entrance. “When did you name the hotel?”
Mother’s eyes moistened. “Rand made me half-owner shortly before he died. We chose the name together.” Her voice quivered. “He told me to be proud of my past and stop trying to be someone I wasn’t. Together we were turning this into the hotel he dreamed of. Then . . . ten days ago he slipped while repairing the roof and fell to his death.” She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped away a tear.
Jacob held the door open for them. “What do you intend to do now, Mrs. Bingham?”
“Eliza.”
He smiled, then took Cassie’s hand. “Eliza. Y
ou’re welcome to live with us in Noble Springs, if you wish.”
“Thank you, but I plan to continue managing the hotel.” She drew a deep breath. “That’s what Rand would want.”
Cassie glanced around the lobby, which now had rag rugs on the floor and colorful cushions on the chairs. Her mother’s touch, no doubt. She and Jacob had been worried about Mother’s ability to manage alone, without considering that the Lord had his own plans—for each of them.
Mother untied the bow under her chin and laid her bonnet on the reception counter at the rear of the lobby. She handed Cassie a key from a rack on the wall. “This is for our . . . my best room, number four, at the end of the hallway. Supper should be ready in about thirty minutes.”
She took a few steps away and paused. When she turned, she rested a shrewd gaze on Jacob. “Would you mind coming with me? I have a few questions about how best to run this kitchen.”
“I’d be happy to help. Lead the way.” He tossed Cassie a wink before following her mother.
She blew him a kiss and watched them go, her heart full of love. Ever since the rainy day she’d left St. Louis, the Lord had been guiding her to Jacob—and this bright and perfect moment.
Acknowledgments
I’m beyond grateful to have had the support of my husband, Richard, during the process of writing this novel. Without complaining, he’s endured late meals and a wife who suffers from ongoing “book brain syndrome.” Thank you, my love.
The team at Revell who produce my books are also at the top of my gratitude list. Vicki Crumpton is a fabulous editor whose sense of humor makes the process a pleasure. It’s also my continued joy to work with Barb Barnes and her editing staff. Again, the process is a pleasure.
This beautiful book cover is the result of Revell’s talented art department, led by Cheryl Van Andel. Thank you for working so closely with me to perfectly reflect Cassie’s personality. Special gratitude goes to the marketing department’s bubbly Michele Misiak, who’s never too busy to respond to my requests.
I’ve loved working with all of you!
Tamela Hancock Murray, my agent, is everything an agent should be. Helpful, supportive, and a fabulous cheerleader for my work. I appreciate you, Tamela.
I’m blessed with gifted critique partners whose suggestions never fail to improve my chapters. Hugs to Sarah Sundin, Bonnie Leon, and Linda Clare. A special shout-out to Judy Gann for taking on extra chapters—and most of all, for praying me through to the ending of the novel.
And speaking of prayer, the Lord should be listed as co-author of this book. As the greatest creator of all, he is my guide. All glory goes to him.
Every author needs readers, and to you I offer my heartfelt thanks for contacting me to share what you’ve enjoyed about my books. I hope you’ll take Cassie’s story to your hearts and love her as much as I do. As always, I look forward to hearing from you.
For more information about my books, as well as my contact information, please visit my website (www.annshorey.com). If you’re a Facebook user, you’ll find me by typing Ann Shorey Author into the search line.
Ann Shorey has been a full-time writer for over twenty years. She made her fiction debut with the At Home in Beldon Grove series in January 2009.
When she’s not writing, she teaches classes on historical research, story arc, and other fiction fundamentals at regional conferences. Ann and her husband live in southern Oregon.
Ann loves to hear from her readers, and may be contacted through her website, www.annshorey.com, or find her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AnnShorey.
Books by Ann Shorey
* * *
AT HOME IN BELDON GROVE SERIES
The Edge of Light
The Promise of Morning
The Dawn of a Dream
SISTERS AT HEART SERIES
Where Wildflowers Bloom
When the Heart Heals
Love’s Sweet Beginning
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