“Well, how was I to know? I’ve never installed a stove before.” He continued muttering as he pried the nails out. Sweat trickled down his neck as he pulled the piece out and laid it on the floor with the others. He stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the assortment of tin scattered on the floor.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?”
Gideon startled and jerked his head up.
Martha stood in the doorway, mirroring Gideon’s stance with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he snapped.
His sister pressed her lips together, and he got the distinct impression she was trying not to laugh. “Going into the scrap metal business?”
Gideon sent her a mock glower. “Think you’re clever, don’t you?” He spread his filthy hands and reached toward her. “Come here, and I’ll show you something clever.”
Martha squealed. “Ooh, Gideon, you’re dirty. Don’t touch me.”
“Ha!” He retreated a step. “And you’re going to be a farmer’s wife? You’d better get used to dirt.”
She made a face at him. “I was just coming to tell you that I’m going out to Ted’s place. His mother and I are going to pick strawberries and make jam.”
He grinned. “And you don’t want Ted to see you dirty, since you’ll be working in the garden and all.”
Martha heaved an exasperated sigh. “Ted will bring me home later this evening, so you’re on your own for supper.”
“Oh, thank goodness, a reprieve.”
“Gideon!”
He gave her a contrite smile. “Sorry. Have a good time, and bring me some strawberries.”
After she left, a thought occurred to him. What if Tessa considered accepting Kilgore’s offer of the saloon job? If Kilgore’s portrayal of Tessa was accurate, he’d have no choice but to rethink the plans for the bakery. He not only had a business reputation to think of; he had a sister to protect. Despite their brother-sister banter, he adored Martha and couldn’t allow her respectability to be sullied.
“I’m letting my imagination get carried away. Kilgore said Tessa turned him down flat.” Besides not trusting any of Kilgore’s implications, something in Gideon’s heart told him Tessa simply wasn’t that kind of girl.
He directed his attention back to the task at hand. These wretched sections of pipe must fit together in a particular order before he could get the whole assembly into the hole he’d cut in the wall. It appeared he might not finish this job today, and he still needed to deliver Mr. Behr’s order to the hotel.
He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. He knelt beside the collection of stovepipe pieces and tried putting sections together, but after experimenting repeatedly, they didn’t fit the way he thought they should. One piece seemed too big, while another appeared too small. No matter how he attempted to join them, he always ended up with an extra length of pipe. The part he thought should fit into the wall didn’t seem to fit any of the other pieces.
He didn’t want to swallow his pride and ask for help, even though Cully probably knew how to put this puzzle together. He leaned against the wall and sighed his exasperation. This contraption wasn’t going to get the best of him!
Chapter 9
Tessa remembered the last time someone invited her to church. It was the itinerant preacher in Indiana. Papa had run him off with a shotgun. Gideon’s invitation made her heart smile even if she couldn’t accept. But the fluttery sensation she got every time she laid eyes on him perplexed her. She shouldn’t allow such feelings.
Grabbing a towel, she slid her pies from the oven and placed them on the cooling rack. “Who am I kidding? I get butterflies every time I think about him.”
“Every time you think about who?”
Tessa jerked herself back to awareness and glanced over her shoulder at Flossie.
The woman’s eyebrows arched in speculation.
“Oh, nobody.”
Flossie laughed. “You get butterflies thinking about nobody?”
As she struggled to think how to answer, her face grew hot. Finally the stretched-out silence apparently answered for her.
“Okay, I can take a hint. You don’t want to talk about it.”
She’d have to remember to keep her ruminations to herself. The pies cooling near the window wouldn’t last through the dinner crowd, so she set to work mixing more piecrust.
As she did so, she allowed her mind to think back to Gideon’s invitation. Perhaps she could wait outside the church until the service started then slip in and sit in the back. As soon as the service was over, she could slip out again before anyone noticed her.
What was she thinking? Gideon said he and his sister wanted her to join them. He must intend for her to sit with them. No, she was right to refuse his invitation, regardless of how much she wanted to accept.
Tonight she planned to open Mama’s Bible and read awhile. After all, that’s the way she and Mama used to worship together. The only thing wrong with that plan was by the time she returned to the shed there was little or no daylight left, and she didn’t have an oil lamp—or even a candle—by which to read.
Gideon crushed the brim of his hat in his fist as he strode down the boardwalk toward the mercantile. Something didn’t add up. He’d stopped by the bank full of anticipation to learn the price and terms for the land about which he’d dreamed.
Only a few days ago Mr. Sewell seemed eager for the transaction to take place. Why is he now telling me the land isn’t for sale? It didn’t make sense for the bank to hold on to a parcel of land acquired through a defaulted loan. No, something certainly wasn’t right.
He slapped his hat against his thigh as he stomped up the steps to the mercantile. The memory of Mr. Sewell repeating himself numerous times and glancing nervously at the door to an adjoining office that stood slightly ajar raised Gideon’s suspicions that their conversation hadn’t been entirely private.
As he propped the door open, a voice hailed him from the street.
“Gideon.”
He turned. “Hey Cully. Boy, am I glad to see you. I’ve been itching to get this stovepipe hooked up.”
“Waall, I sure am sorry it took me so long to git here. Old man Kilgore had me puttin’ new shoes on his matched team of buggy horses, and then I had to replace the wheel rims on that fancy carriage of his.”
Gideon set aside his unanswered questions about Mr. Sewell’s odd declaration and turned his attention to Cully and the stove. “The stove is back in the storeroom.” He led the way, hoping his inability to install the contraption didn’t make him look completely incompetent. If Cully could finish the job today, he could show Tessa this evening.
Cully followed Gideon and grinned at the assortment of tin pieces lined up on the floor in the corner. He picked up several pieces, scrutinizing the edges and comparing sections, tapping his finger on each piece and grunting like he was inventorying the lot. “Where’s your thimble?”
Gideon raised his eyebrows. “Thimble?”
“You gotta have a thimble piece to fit these two together. Otherwise, your chimney ain’t gonna be tight.” Cully held up the section Gideon had nailed into the wall and then pried out. “You wasn’t tryin’ to nail this piece up in that hole, was ya?” Cully started to chuckle.
“Well, I was just going by the way our stove upstairs looks.”
Cully’s toothy grin punctuated the man’s amusement. “You’d best stick to runnin’ the store, Gideon. You ain’t never gonna make a living installin’ stoves.” Cully cackled.
Gideon pressed his lips together and decided not to embarrass himself by offering to help. He set to work rearranging the displays out front.
“Hey Gideon, what’s going on?”
Gideon turned. “Mornin’, Ty. What are you doing in town again? I usually don’t see you more than once a month.”
Ty stuck his hand deep inside the gumdrop jar. “I heard from one of the stage drivers that he dropped off a guy here who
might be willing to make a land deal. I came in to see if I could find him.”
Gideon scratched his head. “There was a man who got off the stage the other day. Name was Behr. He mentioned something about attending to some business.”
Ty chewed thoughtfully for a moment and tossed a couple more gumdrops in his mouth. “He didn’t say what kind of business?”
“No, it was none of my concern. I was just happy to make a sale.”
Ty nodded like it all made sense to him. “One of the stage drivers said this guy might be connected with the railroad.”
“Railroad?” Gideon frowned. “I read in the paper awhile back that the Chicago, Kansas and Nebraska decided to route that connecting line about fifty miles south of here. There was some talk for a while of the Illinois Central taking over that line.”
After gathering up another handful of gumdrops, Ty shrugged. “I know as much as you do. Figure I’ll ask some questions and see what the answers sound like.”
Gideon propped one foot on a crate of canned goods. “I had a real strange meeting today with Mr. Sewell.”
“Roland Sewell at the bank?”
Gideon nodded. “You know that parcel of land east of town that I’ve been looking at?”
Ty arched his eyebrows and swallowed. “You finally gonna buy that piece? Hey, that’s great. Nice stretch of land. A little too hilly for planting wheat and corn, but you’ve always wanted to breed horses. That’s some mighty pretty pasture land.”
Gideon scratched his head. “When I checked at the land office last week, they said the bank owned it. But today, Mr. Sewell told me it wasn’t for sale. Don’t you find that a little odd?”
Puzzlement drove Ty’s eyebrows into a furrow. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would the bank want to hold a piece of land?”
Either insight or speculation—Gideon didn’t know which—fit some tentative pieces into place. “Unless …” He rubbed his hand over his chin and looked straight at Ty. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Talk of the railroad coming through might drive up the price of land sky-high.”
Gideon caught the corner of his lip between his teeth. “If the rumor is true, it might. When you get done talking with Mr. Behr, can you drop by and let me know what you found out?”
Ty tossed his hat on his head. “If it’s anything worth passing on, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Sure thing.” Ty started for the door.
“Uh, Ty?”
“Huh?”
“That’ll be four cents for the gumdrops.”
“Put it on my account.”
“You don’t have an account.”
“Oh. Well, could I open an account?”
“For four cents’ worth of gumdrops?”
Ty pulled out his pocket linings and raised his shoulders, chagrin on his face.
Gideon laughed and shook his head. “Get out of here, you gumdrop thief.”
“See you later.”
“You better have a nickel on you when you come back.”
“A nickel? You said four cents.”
“I charge interest.”
“Gideon, you got a catalog for stove parts?” Cully’s request rang like a dirge in Gideon’s ears. He pulled the catalog from underneath a shelf and pushed it across the counter to the old gent. Cully flipped through the pages and turned the book around for Gideon’s perusal.
“This part right here.” Cully’s grimy finger tapped the page of the catalog. “You gotta have this here thimble connector, and you gotta have a collar piece before you can put that stove to work.”
Gideon’s shoulders slumped. Ordering parts would certainly hinder his plans. “Thanks, Cully. I’ll order these parts right away.”
Cully nodded and sucked on his teeth. “Sure ’nuf. See ya in church.” He strolled out the door, leaving Gideon to stand in the middle of the storeroom and chafe in frustration over the delay. More than anything, he wanted to see Tessa leave Kilgore’s employ and have a decent place to live.
“Just like everything else, I need to wait on God and let Him work things out.”
“A sound plan, young man.”
Gideon spun around to see Hubert Behr standing in the doorway. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in, Mr. Behr.”
“I apologize, young man. Eavesdropping is an unseemly pastime. But I must say, it’s refreshing to find such wisdom in a person your age. If more people would follow God’s leadership, they’d make far fewer mistakes and experience far less heartache.”
Gideon followed his customer to the front of the store. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about, sir.”
Mr. Behr nodded slowly. “Indeed.”
Gideon wiped his hands on his apron. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“I spoke with a friend of yours earlier—a young man, Mr. Ty Sawyer. He told me your general mercantile was for sale.”
Gideon nodded. “Yes sir, it is.”
“May I ask the price?”
The man’s inquiry might mean nothing if the bank wouldn’t sell the land he wanted to buy, but Gideon gave him the figure.
Mr. Behr stroked his chin. “That seems like a fair price.”
Gideon watched the gentleman scan the displays of merchandise and examine the rows of bins. “Does that mean you’re interested in buying the place?”
Mr. Behr ran his hand along the counter. “I need to study the feasibility of such a venture. I’ll be in the area for some time, and I’m not in any hurry.”
A glimmer of hope surged. Now if only he could persuade Mr. Sewell to sell him that land …
“Flossie, do think it would be all right if I’d bring my Bible back to the kitchen tonight and read? I don’t have any light at my place.” Tessa hung her apron on the peg near the door as the three women were leaving.
Flossie shook her head. “That ain’t a good idea. Kilgore don’t like burnin’ the lamps for an extra minute, the old skinflint. Iffen he sees the light burnin’ and comes in here to check, he’ll fire you for sure.”
Disappointment slumped Tessa’s shoulders, but she bid Flossie and Tillie good night and made her way out into the alley that led to her humble dwelling. Her feet came to a halt as soon as she turned the corner behind the hotel. Sitting beside the door of the shed was a small crockery vessel with a wooden lid. Gideon. She picked up the container and hesitated. Should she march straight to the mercantile this minute and plunk down eighteen cents? She frowned. The store was probably closed by now. Gideon was just being kind, like when he brought the burn salve to Flossie. Humility poked her. God would want her to respond in gratitude and graciousness. Very well. She’d wait and pay him for it first thing in the morning.
The moment she opened the shed door, little trespassers skittered along the wall behind Mama’s cabinet. Nasty critters.
She stamped her feet and thumped her fist against the lid of the trunk. “Shoo! I’m home, you wretched little beasts. You better not have been into my food again.” Her fingers groped in the cabinet to locate her bundle containing a corn muffin, an apple, and the cheese she’d purchased yesterday. Sure enough, there was another hole despite several thicknesses of paper. She touched course crumbs littering the shelf in the cabinet. The miserable rodents didn’t even have the manners to clean up after themselves.
Her stomach shuddered with distaste and at the same time complained of its emptiness. The cheese, apple, and muffin were all she had. She’d simply have to break off and discard the nibbled edges. It was that or go hungry. Whatever remained after she’d eaten would be safely protected in her new crock.
After the long day of standing at the worktable and waiting on the dining customers, her body begged for rest. Despite her weariness, she’d thought about Mama’s Bible all afternoon. Gideon’s invitation to church kindled a spark within her to renew her fellowship with God.
If she couldn’t use the kitchen lamp, perhaps there was another seclu
ded corner where she’d find some light. The hotel lobby was for paying customers, not the likes of her. Tessa could only imagine Mr. Kilgore’s reaction if he found her sitting and leisurely reading like a grand lady. But it was the only place that offered a source of lamplight in the evening.
Well, not the only place. The saloons were open, and though there was plenty of light there, the idea of sitting in a saloon made Tessa’s flesh crawl. The reek of whiskey along with memories of her father’s drinking habits sent shivers of loathing down her spine. Her stomach clenched at the thought of entering a saloon for any reason, even just for the purpose of taking advantage of the light.
She splashed water in her face from the bucket in the corner and ran a broken comb through her hair. If she made herself more presentable, might she dare take Mama’s Bible and sit in the hotel lobby to read?
The Bible clutched under her arm, she walked down the alley toward the front of the building. When she reached the boardwalk and peered in the front window, the first person she saw was Mr. Kilgore. There was no chance of entering unnoticed.
Disappointment struck her again. Why did she think she could elevate herself to the level of the hotel patrons when she was nothing more than hired help?
She edged closer toward the front of the hotel. Perhaps there would be enough light coming from the window. She no sooner opened the book and found the broom straw she’d used to mark her place than the front door opened.
Mr. Kilgore stepped out and struck a match on the post to light his cigar.
She shrank as close to the shadow of the building as she could. He puffed away for a moment, and the noxious smoke floated in her direction, burning her eyes and throat. She tried to hold her breath, but as the smoke slithered around her, a cough escaped despite her effort to be invisible.
“What do you think you’re doing there, girl? You can’t loiter around here,” Mr. Kilgore’s voice boomed. “Employees use the side entrance. My clientele doesn’t need to see the likes of you dawdling by the front door. Run along.”
Brides of Iowa Page 8