by Angel Moore
I’m sorry, Lord. Please forgive me for the hurt I’ve bottled up inside and the blame I’ve held against my mother. Help me to forgive her. And myself.
Elmer Finch came out of the general store. He was looking down and bumped into Jared.
“Hey, be careful.” Jared put out a hand and caught the man by the arm to keep him from tripping off the porch.
Mr. Finch snatched his arm from Jared’s grasp. “What are you doing standing in the middle of the sidewalk like a stumbling block?” Jared saw the moment the man recognized him. “Oh, it’s you. Every time I see you, you’re hindering me.”
“Every time I see you, you’re in a big hurry.” He nodded toward the store. “Is there someone in there with a gunshot wound?”
“You know I didn’t do that.” Mr. Finch stepped by him and down to the street.
“Have a nice day, Mr. Finch.” Jared couldn’t resist taunting him. Something about the man made him suspicious.
Jared went into the store and Mr. Croft greeted him. “Mr. Ivy, good to see you again so soon. What can I do for you today?”
“I’ve come on a hunch.” Jared cast an eye to the street outside. “Have you had anything go missing of late? Small things maybe. Things that might fit into a pocket and be taken without your notice.”
The store owner frowned. “Can’t say I’ve noticed anything missing.” He bellowed to his wife in the back storeroom. “Liza, have you noticed anything missing?”
Liza Croft sashayed through the swinging doors. “What are you looking for?”
“Nothing. Mr. Ivy here wants to know if we’re missing anything.”
Her tinny voice rose. “Has someone been taking things?” She pivoted first one way then another. “We’ll do a complete inventory after we close tonight.”
“No, we won’t. It was just a question.” Mr. Croft addressed Jared. “Why did you ask?”
He hoped a smile and a sincere tone would help him calm the situation he hadn’t meant to instigate. “No reason. It’s the newspaper instincts. Always looking for a story.”
“Has the sheriff been told?” Mrs. Croft would not be silenced as readily as Mr. Croft. “Is there a thief among us?”
“No, ma’am. There’s no need to talk to the sheriff. I have no reason to believe you’ve been robbed.”
The bell rang as the door opened and Mary Lou entered. “Mary Lou, I’m glad you’re here. I was just about to see if the Crofts have any of the supplies we need for the paper, but I didn’t think to make a list before I left the office.” Perhaps a possible sale would divert them from their conversation.
“You are a master of lists, Mr. Ivy. I find it hard to believe you would forget such a thing.” Mary Lou studied him with her ever-present suspicion. “I am unaware that we are low on anything at the moment.”
Liza Croft put a hand to the base of her neck. “Miss Ellison, Mr. Ivy has been telling us there’s a thief in town.” She darted her eyes along the rows of shelves. “I’m going to look around right this minute. I won’t rest until I know no one has taken anything from us.” She scurried toward the front of the store. “Donald, these small things you insisted on putting near the front door are a temptation no crafty-minded crook would pass up.” She arranged and rearranged the trinkets on a low table.
“Liza, no one wants those trinkets. They’re ugly. I put them there hoping people would see them and buy them. You paid too much for them. We’ll never get our money back.” Mr. Croft went to help pick up the things his wife had knocked onto the floor in her hurry to inspect them.
Jared watched the scene unfold and saw Mary Lou’s face tighten. She whispered to him, “You told them there’s a thief?”
“No.” He kept his voice low. “I asked Mr. Croft if he’d noticed anything missing.”
“Mrs. Croft is excitable. You may as well have told her there was a gang of renegades coming to town for supper.” A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. This close to her, he caught the scent of the soap she’d used on her hair. The light fragrance teased his senses. “I doubt you and Mr. Croft, with the help of the sheriff, will be able to calm her down now.” She laughed. “It’s no more than you deserve. I warned you not to try to make a story where there wasn’t one.”
Mrs. Croft cried out like a woman in great pain. “It’s gone!” She had moved to the front window display in her frantic search to find something missing.
Mr. Croft followed her. “What’s gone, Liza?”
“The music box I set there this morning. It played the sweetest tune and fit in your hand. The lid lifted and a tiny bird tweeted a melody.”
“You put that in the front window? It should have been in the case on the back counter.” Mr. Croft wasn’t happy.
Jared stood with Mary Lou and watched from across the store. “It seems I was right to question whether they were missing anything.”
Mr. Croft lifted several items in the window in search of the missing music box.
“I put it right there.” Mrs. Croft pointed to an empty spot in the window display.
The doors to the storeroom swooshed open and Andrew entered the shop. “Mr. Croft, I couldn’t find what I need. Thanks for letting me look around.” He was heading for the front door when he saw Mary Lou and Jared.
“Miss Ellison, do you need me at the paper this afternoon?”
Mary Lou darted a glance at Jared. He saw the look of surprise in her eyes. “No, Andrew. I’m working on a story this afternoon. You can check with me in the morning after you do your work at the livery.”
Mr. Croft called out, “Here it is.” He held up the music box for them to see. “It was under that length of fabric Mrs. Ledford was looking at earlier.” He handed it to his wife. “Go put it in the case.”
“I’m sorry for the confusion, Mr. Croft.” Jared hadn’t intended to upset the couple.
“Don’t worry about it. If anything, we learned a lesson in preventing such a theft from happening.” He clapped a hand on Jared’s shoulder. “You’ve done us a service today, Mr. Ivy. I’m grateful to you.”
Andrew cleared his throat. “What happened?”
Jared watched Andrew’s reaction as Mary Lou answered him. “A music box was misplaced. They were concerned it might have been stolen.”
The lad cocked his head to one side and drew his brows together. “Who in Pine Haven would steal something?”
“Exactly what I was saying,” Mary Lou agreed. “Thank you, Andrew.”
Andrew said his goodbyes and left. Jared watched through the front window as Andrew cast a glance over his shoulder and looked into the store before he headed in the direction of the hotel. Mary Lou might not want to consider it, but there was still the matter of the missing cameo and the porcelain dish. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on the young man. Though part of Jared hoped, for Mary Lou’s sake, that he wasn’t a thief.
One thing was certain: Jared was not going to ask himself why it mattered to him if Mary Lou’s trust was misplaced.
She had stepped to the back of the store to speak to Mrs. Croft. The two ladies were admiring the tiny golden box. Her hair hung loosed from the side of the bun at the nape of her neck and hid her face from him. She reached up and tucked the loose strand behind her ear, upsetting the pencil that was always at the ready for taking notes should she run across some interesting detail during the day.
Jared went to stand near Mr. Croft as he straightened the window display. Mrs. Croft had turned it on its heel in her frantic search.
Mr. Croft stood back to inspect his work. “I’m glad there wasn’t a thief.”
“I’m not sure we’ll be able to convince the two of them that I had a right to speak up to you. Mary Lou doesn’t care for my habit of asking too many questions.”
“You’re supposed to ask questions. You’re a newspaper man.
”
“Getting her to see that will take a bit of doing.”
“You’re already calling her by her Christian name. I’d say, if she’s letting you do that, she’ll be open to most anything you put to her.” Mr. Croft laughed and headed to the back of the store.
Jared took the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.
He took Noel back to the livery and brushed her down, all the while wondering if Mary Lou was right. Was this town so small no thief would dare to violate the trust of his neighbors? It was doubtful. Even as he considered it, he heard shouts coming from the direction of the saloon.
There were definitely people in this town who wouldn’t consider the good of others. They might not be part of the community, but they were in Pine Haven. Even if they were only passing through.
* * *
Mary Lou sat at the desk, writing up her notes from her interview with Jasmine. The details were coming together for a lovely wedding. She’d just finished polishing the story she intended to include in the next edition when Jared came into the office. The fall air that ushered him in and caused the flame of her lantern to flicker filled the room before he could shut the door.
Jared hung his hat and jacket on the coat tree. “You’re working late.”
“It’s best to stay ahead of schedule. Every article I have ready will be something I don’t have to fret about on Saturday.” She blew the ink dry then set the story on the edge of the desk, placing the magnifying glass on top of it to keep it from flying away.
Jared took the pages up as soon as she moved her hand.
“That’s not a story I need your help with.” She sounded like a protesting child even to her own ears.
“I will want to read everything before the next edition is printed.” He spoke as though he wasn’t hearing her. He was focusing his attention on the document in his hand.
What choice did she have? The right to input was his. The sheriff had given it to him.
“This is a good start.”
“It’s not a start. That is the story.”
He shook his head and put the paper under the magnifying glass. “That is your perspective on the story. I propose that, while we are sharing the duties of the paper, we will offer alternate views of the stories on which we disagree.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand. “Hear me out. I’m only suggesting that for the stories on which we do not agree. For stories such as this—” he pointed at the paper on the desk “—we may both write an article and compare content. I suspect we will be able to combine the two efforts into one article on most occasions. But I reserve the right to print an opposing viewpoint on any subject.”
She took her time before answering. “What if we each write different articles on different subjects? We could sign the articles so the people of Pine Haven will know who the author is.”
“How would we choose who would write which story?” That he didn’t reject her idea out of hand was a surprise. She’d expected him to resist any thoughts from her.
“I can write the stories I bring in, and you can write the ones you bring.” She resisted the urge to give a sharp nod as punctuation to her words.
“Then you may print this article and I will print one about the power and influence of the two families combining.”
Mary Lou didn’t like it, but it was better than letting him ruin her article by trying to combine it with his. “Very well.”
She reached for another piece of paper and pulled some notes toward her. The next article should be finished before she retired for the evening. She read through her notes again without really seeing them. Jared standing over her from the opposite side of the desk was disconcerting. She put the notes in order before stopping to ask, “Is there something else?”
“I told you I want to read everything before it goes into the paper. What are you working on now?”
“If you must know, it’s the first in the series on the Christmas Eve social.”
Jared sat on the corner of the desk. “What approach are you taking for the series?”
“Nothing as fanciful as suggesting the wise men gave the Christ child stolen gifts.” She didn’t mean to snap, but he’d accused Andrew of being a thief and stirred the idea of theft to others.
Jared chuckled. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re basing the story in fact.” He went to the table that held the font tiles and pulled out his notebook. “If you don’t mind, I’ll work a bit longer tonight. I’ve got this story ready and don’t want to wait. Who knows what may come up tomorrow? Perhaps another shooting or a stagecoach robbery. A mysterious passenger from the train could come into town and turn the peace that is Pine Haven on its ear.” He plopped onto a stool and began putting tiles onto a composing stick.
They worked in silence for several minutes. Mary Lou didn’t make a lot of progress. She’d crossed out more information than she’d kept. She wanted to know what he was writing.
She put her pen down and asked, “What story is that?” She wouldn’t let him read her work without demanding to see his.
He picked up another tile and added it to the stick, carefully pushing the letter close to the others. He reached for another. Mr. Ivy had often been so engrossed in his work that he’d ignored her. She’d soon learned it was his deep concentration and not an attempt at rudeness. Jared had no way of knowing how like the man he was. If he wasn’t a threat to her independence, she might even like him. Or at least not be so upset at his presence.
“Jared, what story are you working on?”
He started and dropped the tile onto the table. His “What?” was absentminded as he retrieved the letter.
Mary Lou came to look over his shoulder. “What story are you working on?”
“One about the ranches in the area and how the railroad has changed their business.” He didn’t look up but kept working.
“What made you choose that subject?” She leaned in to try to see the words he’d chosen, but he angled his hand so she couldn’t. “It’s not something that’s come up much in the last year.”
“That’s why I want to write it. The train came through Pine Haven almost a year ago. I want to show the ways it has helped the town progress.”
“The people know that. They don’t need an article about it.” She put a hand on his arm. “Let me see.”
He stopped working and looked down on her from his place on the stool. “You will get a better picture if you wait and read the entire article.”
“Who did you interview? The sources you spoke to will determine whether people will accept the merit of the story.”
“I didn’t stop people in the street and ask their opinion. I went to the Circle W and the Double Star. Mr. Willis and Mr. Barlow were both eager to share their experiences. Mr. Barlow had the benefit of having worked on a ranch in East River before he moved to Pine Haven. It’s a good story, Mary Lou.”
“Let me see what you have so far.” She tugged on his sleeve. “You haven’t worked with the tiles before. You’ll be wasting your time if you aren’t doing it right.”
“All right.” He turned toward her and held out his hand for her to see. The first few words were lined up evenly.
She tried to keep from laughing, but it bubbled up in her throat and spilled out.
“What?” He looked at the composing stick and then at her. “You know this is a good story.”
“I’m sure it is.” She reached for the stick but he pulled it out of her reach.
“If you’re only going to laugh, why should I show it to you?”
“Well, if you want the readers to understand the content—” she stifled another chuckle “—we’re going to have to print it so they can read it.”
He looked at the letters. “It’s perfectly legible.”
“Yes.” She pointed to the printi
ng press. “Come look at these.”
He followed her to the press and groaned. All the starch went out of him. “For all my telling you I can manage without your help, I’ve just proved myself wrong.” He smiled at her. “You don’t think me foolish, do you? I couldn’t bear it.”
Heat filled her face. “Why does my opinion matter to you?” She knew he wanted her gone. But something about him pulled her to him. He was kind and intelligent. A smile threatened to cover her face again. Even if he had a lot to learn about the newspaper business.
“Because you’re the one Grump chose to work with him. If I’d been here, he might not have needed anyone, but he chose you. I’d have been family, an obvious candidate. You were a choice. I’d like to earn your respect, even if we can’t both win in this situation.” He held out his hands to indicate the office.
“Hmm. Well, if you keep using your words with that kind of charm, you’ll have the whole town eating out of your hand.” She reached for the composing stick and he relinquished it to her. “But first, you’re going to have to learn to read backward.” She started to remove the tiles and drop them into their slots.
“I don’t know why I didn’t notice that all the type is set backward.” He fumbled to put his hands in his pockets, face downcast.
“Don’t let it upset you. Anyone could have made the same mistake.” She finished sorting the letters with the speed of experience. “Thankfully, we caught it before you had too much time invested.” She handed back the composing stick and returned to the desk.
She picked up the dictionary Mr. Ivy had kept there and handed it to him. “You might want to keep this close at hand.”
He frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Because in the few lines I sorted and put away, I found three misspelled words. If you find it hard to spell them forward, wait until you’ve done a few backward.” She sat back down and picked up her notes.