An impressed Adam asked, “When did you learn to play so well? I remember being able to beat you with my eyes closed.”
“I was twelve at the time.”
“Oh, that’s right. A twelve-year-old pest.”
“Don’t start,” she warned him, smiling.
“Sorry.”
She then asked, “Was I really that bad?”
He set his pieces up for another game. “Yes.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
His voice was lit with humor. “If you don’t want to hear the truth, don’t ask the question.”
“Well, all I remember is how rotten you, Dani and Jeremiah were to me when I was small.”
Adam looked offended. “I beg your pardon! We treated you like a little queen.”
“You don’t tie a queen to a tree and use her as bee bait.”
Adam threw back his head and laughed. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
“I haven’t. Nor have I forgotten the serious whippings Papa gave out on my behalf after you all brought me home that night.”
Adam rubbed his hip at the memory. “Ouch. It was memorable, all right. It was your brother’s idea to smear that honey all over you.”
“Whose idea was it to tie me to the tree?”
“Jere. He wanted to know if the honey would protect a person from bee stings.”
“So you all used me.”
Adam grinned and nodded. “You were available, but boy, when Jere whacked the hive with that stick and those angry bees came pouring out loaded for bear, I never ran so fast in my life.”
“I thought you all were going to get stung to death and die, and I was going to be tied to the tree forever.”
“But we came back for you.”
“Yes, only to take me down to the creek and rub my skin raw trying to remove the honey.”
“You were screaming bloody murder, too.”
“I wanted to shoot the three of you.”
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
“And we begged and pleaded with you not to tell.”
She chuckled. “Dani promised me all of the money from his newspaper deliveries.”
Adam laughed. “He wanted you to say you’d accidentally fallen into the honeycomb barrel at my parents’ store.”
“As if Mama would have believed such a tale. But he promised me ice cream, trips to the circus, anything my heart desired as long as I didn’t tell the truth.”
“All of which you turned down.”
“Of course. I was six, not stupid. I knew the three of you were going to be in so much trouble that not even the angel Gabriel could save you, so the minute we turned up the walk, I started screaming like I’d been run over by a train.”
He began to laugh. “Your mother took one look at you all wet and sticky and crying and I knew she was going to fry us until we burned. In a way, we were real glad your papa was home.”
“Why?”
“We knew that after he punished us, we’d still be alive. We weren’t so sure about your mother.”
Jo laughed. “Mama is something, isn’t she?”
“Mrs. B. is one of a kind.”
“I want to grow up and be just like her.”
“Heaven help us. I don’t know if the world is ready.”
“Well it won’t have to be for a while. I have a lot more living and learning to do before I can equal my mother, but that’s my goal.”
“Not a bad goal. Bad news for your husband, but not a bad goal for you.”
“Hey, what are you saying about my mama?”
He laughed. “I mean it in a good way. A man who marries you will have to have patience, a strong mind and an even stronger wit. Your father does pretty well with your mother because he has all those things.”
“And he loves Mama more than anything.”
“Yes, he does. The man you marry will probably love you that way, too.”
Their eyes met for a moment, and Jo asked, “You think so?”
He nodded. “I know so.” He then added softly, “You’re a beautiful, headstrong woman, Josephine Best. Don’t settle for less. You hear?”
She nodded. “I hear.”
“Good. Now, back to these checkers. I owe you a whipping, I believe.”
Jo laughed and rolled her eyes. “Let me feel your forehead. Your fever must have returned.”
He grinned. “Pest.”
She grinned right back.
nine
When Jo awakened in her bed on Friday morning, the first thing she thought about was how much she’d enjoyed Adam’s company the past few evenings; they’d played checkers, done more reminiscing and, all in all, had a good time. He hadn’t flirted once, and she hadn’t succumbed to his charm. The second thing she thought about was how much she missed Trudy. They hadn’t spoken since last Sunday’s spat, and even though Jo was convinced Trudy’s brain had lost a wheel, they were still best friends—no matter what. Jo decided that after work she’d drive over and see Trudy.
As Jo headed over to her shop, she was surprised to see a hack pull up and her mother step out. Jo’s face split into a grin. She watched her mother pay the driver, and after he drove off, Jo hurried over to help carry the small cache of luggage to the house. “What are you doing back so early?”
“The festivities were canceled.”
“Why?”
“They had a contested election, or some such nonsense. It seems the last elected president of the society refuses to relinquish her position, and so after listening to them argue and fuss for the past few days, Vera and I decided to pack our bags and come home. How are you, darling?”
“Fine, Mama.”
“How’s our patient?”
“Doing well, actually. He’s able to get around much better, but he still tires easily.”
“Has Bea stopped in?”
“Yes. She says he’s progressing.”
“That’s good news. Are you on your way to work?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“All right, then, I’ll see you later on.”
Jo smiled and headed over to her shop.
It was six o’clock by the time Jo was done for the day and had everything cleaned up and put away. She was tired but still determined to go by Trudy’s after supper and attempt a reconciliation.
When Jo got home, Cecilia and Vera were in the process of heading off to the church for the weekly Friday-night choir rehearsal. Jo ate a hasty dinner, then, having received her mama’s blessing, rode her mare the mile and a half to the Carr home. Since Trudy’s mama, Barbara, was also a choir member, her absence would guarantee Jo and Trudy plenty of time to talk freely.
Jo dismounted and walked up the gravel path that led to the door. Trudy’s house was small and painted green. It was a nice spring evening and the air was fragrant with the smells of Mrs. Carr’s prized roses.
Jo knocked on the screened door and called out in a singsong voice, “Trudy! It’s Jojo.”
Silence.
Jo knocked again, harder. “Trudy!”
Nothing.
Perplexed, Jo walked to the edge of the porch and looked out toward Mrs. Carr’s greenhouses that lay a few yards from the house. Barbara Carr grew flowers for pleasure and profit, and her daughter and Jo, too, on occasion, had often been pressed into lending a hand in the business. Jo saw no sign of Trudy, however.
Jo went back to the door. She pulled on the handle and when it opened, she stepped inside the silent front room. “Trudy? Are you here?”
Jo looked around the room and her eyes widened. The place was a mess. Furniture was knocked over. China plates and broken crockery littered the rag rugs. One of the beautiful oak sideboards her papa had made for the Carrs many Christmases ago lay facedown on the floor. The shattered glass from its windows lay around it like tears. Jo got a sick feeling. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Fighting her fear, Jo began running from room to room, calling Trudy’s name. Nothing. She did find Trudy’s
handbag on her bed in her bedroom. The contents were strewn all over the yellow quilt. Trudy’s collection of little elephants that usually sat on the mantel above the fireplace was all over the floor; one, made out of blue glass that Jo had given to Trudy on her fourteenth birthday, lay in pieces as if it had been stepped upon. Where was Trudy?
“Trudy!” she yelled again.
Jo ran back outside and searched the barn. The buggy Trudy had been given by her papa was gone, but Jo knew Trudy would never leave the front door wide open nor go anywhere without her handbag.
Jo searched the greenhouses, but found only flowers. The only place left was the cellar. Jo held on to her hope. Like other cellars in the area, the Carrs’ underground room also served as a storm shelter. Maybe Trudy had hidden herself there.
Jo pulled up on the heavy wooden door, then let her eyes follow the beam of light down into the darkness. “Trudy!”
A soft, muffled sound rose from the depths.
Jo backed her way down the earthen steps as quickly as she could, then peered round in the half light. Jo gasped. Trudy lay trussed and gagged on the floor.
Jo moved to her side and Trudy moaned happily through the red handkerchief tied between her lips. Jo hastily undid the knot, and a grateful Trudy cried, “Oh, Jo, I knew you’d come. I knew it.”
They hugged each other emotionally. Jo was glad to have found her. Trudy was even gladder to have been found. Only now did Jo acknowledge how scared she’d been; her heart was pounding like war drums. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“No, he didn’t harm me.”
“Who did this to you?”
Trudy guiltily dropped her eyes.
“Trudy?”
Silence.
Jo’s first instinct was to shake her—after all, finding the Carr house torn apart and Trudy missing had scared Jo half to death—but she chose another tack. They were supposed to be best friends. “Trudy?” she asked gently. “Who did this?”
“You’re going to think I’m so stupid.”
“No, I’m not. Tell me.”
“It was Dred Reed.”
Jo’s mouth dropped.
“Oh, Jo, he robbed the house. He made me show him where Mama kept all of our valuables—the good silver, all the money she’s saved, Papa’s gold pocket watch.”
“How on earth did he get in?”
Trudy dropped her eyes again, then confessed in a tiny voice, “I invited him over. I…knew Mama was going to be gone all day delivering flowers and wouldn’t be back until after choir rehearsal, so I thought we could just sit on the porch and talk.”
Jo shook her head. “Oh, Trudy.”
“Only he didn’t want to talk. He had a knife, and the first thing he asked was how much money Mama kept in the house. When I wouldn’t tell him—Oh, Jo, I feel so stupid. Mama’s going to kill me.”
Jo agreed. She and Trudy had been in some serious scrapes in the past, but nothing of this magnitude. “We have to alert the sheriff. Maybe Dred can be waylaid.”
Trudy wailed again, “Mama’s going to kill me.”
Again, Jo had to agree.
Jo went to work on the ropes tied around Trudy’s legs, ankles and wrists. The knots were all good ones, so it took some time. When Trudy was finally freed, she and Jo climbed the ladder back up into the evening light. “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m sure. He called me a silly little girl not worth a real man’s attention. It was humiliating.”
Jo shook her head sadly. Poor Trudy. What an awful lesson she’d just learned.
They were walking back to the house when the sight of Bert Waterman and his mama standing on the porch froze Jo and Trudy in mid step.
Trudy wailed quietly, “Oh, Lord. I forgot I was to have dinner with them this evening.”
Jo felt her pain. “Oh, Lord, is right.”
Mrs. Waterman appeared very perturbed, and as Jo and Trudy approached the porch, the Dragon Lady asked, “What has happened? The house looks like it has been ransacked.”
Bert moved quickly to his intended’s side, asking with concern, “Are you hurt, Trudy?”
“No, I’m fine.” Trudy shook her head stiffly. “A little shook up, but I haven’t been harmed.”
Trudy opened her mouth to say something else, but closed it at the sight of her mother driving up. Following Mrs. Carr were buggies and wagons being driven by other members of the ladies’ choir, including Cecilia Best. Jo didn’t think this could get any worse.
Mrs. Carr stepped down from the wagon. She took one look at her daughter’s tear-stained face and asked with concern, “Tru, what’s wrong?” Had the situation not been so awful, Jo would have jumped right in with a plausible lie to help explain away Trudy’s appearance, but Jo didn’t say a word.
Mrs. Carr walked closer to Trudy and peered into her face.
Trudy said, “Hello, Mama. Why’s the choir here?”
“There’s a skunk loose in the church. The reverend made us all leave until he can get someone in there to catch it. So we came here. Now, what’s this all about?”
Jo went and stood beside her mother. Everyone, it seemed, was waiting for Trudy’s explanation.
“Mama, I didn’t know he was going to do this!” Trudy wailed pitifully, then threw herself into her mother’s arms and wept like her heart was broken.
A very bewildered Barbara Carr held her daughter while she cried. Jo had no idea if Trudy’s tears were sincere or not, but it was certainly buying her more time.
Mrs. Carr comforted her with the nonsensical words and phrases mamas often employ at such times, then said, “Who is he, and what did he do?”
“He robbed us,” Trudy said and began to cry again.
Mrs. Carr’s eyes widened. “Robbed us?”
Jo doubted she’d ever seen an adult woman run so fast, but Mrs. Carr was up the walk in a flash. She went inside, and then her scream of disbelief shook the silence.
Jo’s mother hastened up the walk to see if help was needed, only to be stopped by the sight of Mrs. Carr barreling out the door.
She walked over to her daughter and asked in a shaken voice, “Who did this?”
Trudy tried to forestall the eruption. “Mama, I didn’t—”
Mrs. Carr cut her off. “Gertrude Carr. For the last time. Who did this?”
“Dred Reed,” Trudy replied.
“Who?”
“One of the soldiers staying with Patricia Oswald,” Cecilia reminded her.
Mrs. Carr turned back to her daughter. “That soldier? Did he force his way in—”
“Mama, he tied me up and put me in the cellar. Jojo found me.”
Trudy hastily went on to tell that Dred has stolen all of their valuables, and again how she’d been trussed and gagged and stashed in the cellar.
Bert stepped up and said, “I’ll ride for the sheriff, Mrs. Carr.”
“Thank you, Bert.”
His mother called out, “Hold on a moment, son. Mrs. Carr, Trudy never explained how this soldier came to be in the house.”
Trudy shot her future mother-in-law such an ugly look, Jo cringed.
Mrs. Carr said, “She’s right, Tru. Did he force his way inside?”
Trudy, who must have known her goose was cooked, sighed and said, “No. I—I let him in.”
The choir ladies gasped collectively. Jo knew this story would be all over town before nightfall.
Mrs. Carr studied her daughter. “What do you mean, you let him in? Why?”
Trudy looked up into her mother’s eyes. “I…told him he could call on me.”
“All the while knowing I’d be away for the day?”
Trudy nodded sadly.
Mrs. Waterman sneered. “Well, there’s no way my Bert is going to marry a girl like that. Who knows what she and that soldier might have engaged in before he robbed you, Barbara. The engagement is off. Come, Bert.”
Mrs. Carr wheeled on Mrs. Waterman. “How dare you slander my girl!”
Mrs. Water
man chuckled bitterly. “I don’t need to slander her. She’s doing just fine on her own.”
Bert looked heartbroken but agreed. “Mama’s right. The engagement’s off, Trudy.”
“But, Bert, I—”
He was tight-lipped. “Goodbye, Trudy. Mrs. Carr. I’ll stop by and alert the sheriff on my way home.”
Trudy was crying for real now. “Bert, I’m sorry. I—”
Bert gave Trudy a final stony look, then followed his mother back to the carriage. They drove away.
After the departure of the Watermans, Mrs. Carr said softly but firmly to her daughter, “In the house, Trudy. We’ll talk in a while.”
“Yes, Mama.” Trudy ran inside, crying. Jo felt like crying, as well.
Mrs. Carr said to the choir members, “Under the circumstances, I don’t think we’ll be having rehearsal here tonight, ladies.” She turned and walked stiffly back to the house, then went inside and closed the door.
The choir members were whispering and nudging one another as they dispersed.
Jo asked her mother, “Do you think we should offer to help Mrs. Carr put the house back in order?”
Cecilia hugged her daughter’s waist. “Not today. If they need us, they’ll let us know.”
Jo felt so sorry for Trudy.
Cecilia must have sensed Jo’s concern. “Come on, darling, let’s go on home. Trudy and Barbara will work things out. It’ll be all right.”
Jo nodded, but took one last longing look at the closed door and silently sent Trudy a prayer.
Later that evening, Cecilia stopped by Jo’s room and asked, “Did you know about Trudy inviting Reed over to the house?”
“No.” On one level the answer was a lie, but on another, Jo had answered truthfully. Trudy had only been thinking about ruining her life when Jo last spoke with her on Sunday.
“It’s certainly a mess,” Cecilia offered sadly.
“It certainly is. I hope the sheriff finds him.”
“I do, as well.”
“Do you think Bert will ever forgive her?” Jo asked.
“I don’t know. Our Trudy has created quite a scandal. No one would blame Bert if he never spoke to her again.”
Jo sighed sadly. Her mother was right. A young woman’s reputation was all she had, and Trudy had shattered her own in the blink of an eye—for what? Jo dearly wished to go to her friend and offer what comfort she could, but doubted Mrs. Carr would allow any visits in the foreseeable future.
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