Griffin and Ronald’s heads whipped around hearing his voice. Griffin’s eyes narrowed while Ronald’s widened in surprise. Good. Hopefully, his being seen should take care of any surprise plans they had for the café tonight.
“Why are you still in town?” Griffin bluntly asked.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Nolan shrugged his shoulder but kept his gaze steady on Griffin.
“We missed the train, so we’ll have to wait until Monday.”
Uh huh. That was a downright lie, but Nolan didn’t let on he knew it.
“I’m helping the café owner pack for her move to Billings and will escort her to her family there.”
“What about the half-breed? She staying here?”
Nolan counted to ten while he stared at the man. “Miss Brandt is moving with Mrs. Randolph, so she will be with us.”
There was a barely audible curse coming from Griffin’s mouth when he stormed out of the store with Ronald right behind him. Nolan watched them walk down the street, the opposite direction of the café before he turned back to Mr. Carson.
“As I was saying, I need new clothes to replace my army issues...”
Nolan hesitated at the café door, wondering if he should knock or walk in. He tried the door handle, hoping Holly had locked the door, but the door easily opened. Given the number of dishes they used this morning, there was a good chance the women were still in the kitchen washing them.
“Holly? Myrtle?” Nolan called out, still standing by the front door, not wanting to surprise them by just walking into the kitchen.
Holly instantly peered through the serving window between the two rooms.
“Nolan? What are you doing here? Did you miss the train?”
What should he tell her? Lie and say he missed the train, or tell the truth?
Nolan nodded to Myrtle who was sitting at the kitchen table when he walked into the kitchen.
“I was ready to get on the train, but I decided to stay and help you ladies pack and move if that’s agreeable to you.”
“Well, that would be most appreciated, young man. I didn’t stop to think how much work the packing and hauling things downstairs would be when I announced the café was officially closing today.”
“It would have been a lot for Holly to do herself, although I’m sure she could manage it.” Nolan smiled as Holly was about to protest?
“Or maybe you had already talked to your neighbors about helping?”
“Nolan, we’re still washing and drying dishes, so we haven’t talked to anyone yet,” Myrtle replied as she lifted another plate off the stack of wet dishes Holly had sat on a towel on the table for her to dry.
“Won’t your grandparents be looking for you?” Holly asked over her shoulder as she had gone back to washing dishes.
“I already sent a telegraph saying I’ll be arriving a few days later,” Nolan shrugged his shoulders to indicate everything was fine.
“I stopped by the mercantile and bought some new clothes, too,” he lifted up his arm to show the extra brown-paper-wrapped the package in his hand besides the clothes bag.
“Nolan, I appreciate you doing this for us, but we’d have been fine. Why did you come back?” Myrtle looked at him, and then at Holly. Did she think he wanted to spend more time with Holly? Well, that was true if he wanted to be honest with himself, but Myrtle needed to know why he didn’t get on the train, too.
“The two men, who, I think, were looking into breaking into the café last night, didn’t get on the train this morning. They told the conductor they had some unfinished business here and they’d take the Monday train instead.”
Holly whirled around, never mind that her wet hands were dripping water on the floor.
“They’re still here?” She quickly looked out past him to the dining room, then out the back window, searching for the men in question.
“They were browsing in the mercantile when I stopped in for clothes. I took the liberty to say I was staying with you until you moved, to derail any ideas they may have had about robbing you.”
“Thank you, Nolan. We’ll gladly put you to work, and feed you, too.” Myrtle looked at the open pantry door. “I didn’t think about all the food we had in stock when I announced I’d close the café immediately.”
“Well, we have three days to eat it, sell it, or give it away.” Nolan laughed. He was going to enjoy his final “escort” duty in the Montana Territory.
“And if it takes a few days longer to leave town I’m fine with that. So what’s first for me to do?”
Myrtle handed him her drying towel. “If you’d finish drying dishes, I’m going to get paper and pencil and start making a list of all the food items in the pantry. Maybe we can post in businesses around town what’s for sale?”
“I doubt the Carson’s would post for you,” Holly wryly added.
“But maybe, they would buy pickles from you since they were a favorite in the café,” Nolan pointed out.
“Well, then you be the salesman and approach the Carson’s for me, please. They’d try to buy them for next to nothing from me,” Myrtle pointed her pencil at Nolan and laughed.
“Holly, aren’t we glad Nolan came back to help?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Holly said without much conviction. Even with his help, it left Holly homeless in three days.
***
It was a mixed blessing to have Nolan helping her and Myrtle. She was so glad Nolan was here to lift all the items Myrtle wanted to be moved and packed. For thinking she didn’t need to take much with her to move in with her daughter, Myrtle had sure changed her mind. What would her daughter think of the crates of food, dishes, and linens they packed to deliver to her house?
As Nolan predicted, the Carsons jumped at the chance to buy the last of the “famous Randolph Café pickles” from Myrtle. Mr. Carson brought over a wagon, and he and Nolan loaded several cases of pickles Friday afternoon.
A few other people wandered in the café yesterday and today to see what was for sale. The coffee group showed up at their regular time this morning, pretending they didn’t believe Myrtle was actually closing. Holly had ground coffee beans and made coffee, expecting some people would walk in the door, and Myrtle wouldn’t have the heart to tell them to leave.
The dear men had pooled their money together to give her and Myrtle each an envelope of cash for their new adventures. They, in turn, were sent home with jars from the pantry, their choice of canned fruit, vegetables, or jam.
Holly pulled out of her thoughts when Nolan knocked on the doorframe of her bedroom. The door was open so he could see her sitting on her bed, with a pile of items beside her.
“Yes?”
“Anything I can carry downstairs for you yet?”
“I only have one trunk of things which I’m packing now.”
Nolan noticed the portraits on the bed and gestured toward them. “May I look at them?”
“Um, yes you may.” What else could she say? Nolan sat down in the one chair in the room and easily reached the photos on the bed since the room was small.
“Oh look, this portrait was taken by the photographer in Ellsworth.” He flipped the cardboard photo to the back, but there was nothing written on it.
“I recognize your father at a younger age. So this was your mother and...?”
Nolan stopped speaking and stared at the portrait. He was seeing her mother cradling her dead sister in her arms, while her father was holding her, just three years old at the time. It was a somber photo, her parents’ faces showing silent grief, and her face showing confusion.
“That was taken in ‘67 right after my sister died. Ruth was five. It’s the only portrait I have of the four of us together.”
He nodded, understanding the significance of the portrait she treasured. “I’m glad the photographer came to Fort Harker then. I bet he was hesitant with the disease going around, but that would have been a good business to be in during those months. People would have been wanting family photos, just
in case, or when they did lose family members.”
“I’m very thankful I have it now, to remember my family by.”
Holly handed him another photo. “This is my mother and baby sister, and my father and I standing next to the coffin.”
Holly was eight years old then and vividly remembered reaching into the coffin to hold her mother’s hand, only to withdraw when feeling it was so cold and stiff. Her father had been devastated, crying for days, leaving Holly to fend for herself until a neighbor woman took her into their home. It took time, but the bond between her and her father strengthened as they moved to Fort Union.
Thirteen years had passed since she’d lived in Kansas. Maybe someday she could revisit her families’ graves.
“That’s a good portrait of you and your father. That’s how I remember him.” Nolan pointed at the last photo on the bed.
“It was taken two years ago when a roving photographer came through Silver Crossing. I had to beg him to clean up to pose for the photographer.” Holly chuckled when thinking of the day. “It was May, the snow was melting off the mountains, and the Silver Crossing streets were a mess with the mud. The photographer didn’t take a full portrait because our boots and my skirt hem were so muddy that day.”
“Actually, I’d say that was good luck because you have a close-up of the two of you instead.”
Nolan studied it a bit longer then, picked the first photo again which showed her mother alive. “You look more like your father, except you were blessed with your mother’s black hair. Looks like your sisters’ hair coloring matched your fathers?”
Nolan thought she was blessed with her mother’s hair? She ran her hand over her braid, realizing she hadn’t twisted it up into a bun this morning. Holly had always considered her black hair a curse because it showed her heritage.
Holly looked up; realizing Nolan was waiting for her to answer. “Yes, Ruth and Bertha had our father’s coloring.”
“My sister, Daisy and I look like we could be twins, only her hair is longer than mine,” Nolan joked. “We both favored our father.”
“Do you have a family photo to remember your parents by?”
“Yes, but I think Daisy took it with her when she moved away. I didn’t want to have it with me while in the army.”
“Your sister isn’t in Kansas?”
“No, she wanted to get out of our little town, so she traveled east to find work a few years after I left Clear Creek.”
“Did she marry there, have any children?”
“Still single, and never mentions a beau when she writes. Daisy worked as a housemaid for a couple of years, and since then she’s worked her way up in a fancy restaurant. She waitressed until the owner found out she grew up in the business, literally, and since then I think she’s one of the chefs.”
“Will she ever return to your family’s café to help run it?”
“Hard to say. I think she likes the city life,” Nolan wrinkled his nose, and Holly guessed that wouldn’t be his choice of where to live.
Nolan laid the photos back on the bed. “Do you have other things from your family you’ve been able to keep with you?”
Holly had left their house in Silver Crossing with very little. She’d sold or traded everything possible to pay off debts.
The one thing she refused to sell was her father’s violin. It was already packed, but she wanted to show her prized possession to Nolan. Holly reached into the trunk and pulled out the cloth-wrapped instrument case. She carefully unwrapped it and opened the case to reveal an old violin. She carefully pulled it from the case and handed it to Nolan.
“My Brandt ancestors brought this violin with them when they emigrated from Germany to America in the 1700s.”
Nolan gasped, probably realizing he was holding an instrument over a hundred years old.
“Turn the violin in the light so you can look into the left f-hole.”
Nolan moved toward the window and turned the violin body back and forth in his hands until he must have been able to read the tiny faded label pasted inside the instrument.
“It’s very old handwriting and hard to read, but you can clearly read 1719.”
He reverently ran his fingers over the smooth back wood, then across the four front strings.
“Where did the Brandt’s settle in America?”
“Pennsylvania, but the last few generations have moved west instead of staying around Germantown.”
“Now I remember your father playing fiddle for the Christmas party. Was it this instrument instead?”
“Yes, it was. A fiddle and a violin are the same instruments, but what type of music is played makes the difference.”
“Can you play it?”
“Yes. My father taught me how when I was young, but he was always the one to play at group gatherings.”
“Do you play it often?”
“The last time I played it was at my father’s service, standing by his grave.”
“Maybe it would give you comfort if you started playing again. You haven’t said anything, but I bet closing the café makes you sad.”
How honest should she be with Nolan? He wouldn’t be judgmental, and maybe he’d understand a little since he was in between lives, too.
“I’m at a loss for what to do. I panic thinking of being alone again.” She blinked away the tears that had threatened to spill ever since Myrtle made her announcement to close the café.
“Will I find a place to work so I can eat? Someplace to sleep beside sneaking into a barn at night?”
“It sounds like you’ve been through this already, Holly.”
She turned her face away from his stare.
“When your father died?”
Holly nodded once, hate to admit it as she squeezed her eyes tight against the pain. She opened her eyes when Nolan laid the violin on her lap and picked up her hands.
“Think how often your father’s, as well as your ancestors, hands have played this violin. Maybe playing the instrument will help keep you from feeling so alone and afraid?”
Nolan’s hands firmly holding her hands were what made Holly feel safe. Why didn’t someone want her as a wife? Then she’d have security, food, shelter, and love.
“Holly, please promise me, if you can’t find a job in Billings, you’ll telegraph me. I’ll send you money for your train ticket, and you can work in my café.”
“Nolan, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll get by.”
“And I stand by my vow of always protecting women and children,” Nolan valiantly said while pulling her hand to his heart.
Holly couldn’t help smiling at Nolan. He was trying to make her feel better, and it had worked. She didn’t feel alone when she was around Nolan.
“Now since I promised to protect you forever, could you do me one favor?” Nolan cocked his head to one side and grinned at her.
“I suppose,” she joked with a big sigh.
“Please play your favorite song for me.” Nolan seriously said before letting go of her hand and settling back in the chair.
Holly stared at him, feeling as if she’d been tricked.
“Please?”
Maybe it was time to play again. She’d always loved how she could feel the music in her soul, but she’d denied herself that pleasure since her father died.
Only one way to find out she decided as she picked the bow from the case. Her left hand trembled as she lifted the neck of the violin off her lap and tucked the chin rest between her neck and shoulder. As she drew the bow across the strings, she knew it needed to be tuned, but all of a sudden, all she wanted to do was play.
Holly closed her eyes and thought of the words as she played the melody of “Amazing Grace.”
Amazing grace! how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
>
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believed!
Holly continued playing as Nolan softly started singing. His tenor voice was so different from her father’s bass voice, but it was just as comforting.
Through many dangers, toils, and snares,
I have already come;
‘Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me,
His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.
Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, who called me here below,
Will be forever mine.
Holly drew the bow out to finish the final note and finally opened her eyes. Myrtle and Reverend Nelson stood in the doorway of the room staring at her.
“That was beautiful, Holly. I never knew you had a violin,” Myrtle stared at her as if she didn’t know her.
“I think we just heard the perfect ending to tomorrow’s church service, too,” Reverend Nelson added. “We were downstairs discussing tomorrow, and your music pulled us up the stairs.”
Myrtle rushed on to explain. “The Reverend thought we should know the congregation was going to have a potluck dinner as a farewell to us...here in the café after church.”
“Oh dear, we’ve already packed most of the dishes,” Holly’s mind switched to the thought of a meal here now.
“Everyone will bring their own table service, so you don’t have to worry about serving or cleaning up. You two will be the ladies of honor for dinner.
“But back to your playing, I wish I would have known sooner so we could have had you often play in church, instead of your last Sunday here.”
“I don’t think she was ready to share it while she was in mourning, Reverend,” Nolan said, coming to her rescue.
Grooms with Honor Series, Books 7-9 Page 15