Brides of Iowa

by Stevens, Connie;

  “No, I—I mean, I saw you, and I—I just wondered …”

  “You wondered what I was doing there.”

  “Well, yes. Tessa, why?”

  Her jaw muscle twitched, and her eyes narrowed. “Not that it’s any of your business, Mr. Maxwell, but I was looking for some place where I could read my mother’s Bible.”

  Gideon blinked. “Oh, so naturally you would go to the saloon to read the Bible.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Tessa, that makes no sense. Why would you do that?”

  She sucked in a breath and blinked rapidly, but a tear escaped anyway as her voice trembled. “Mr. Kilgore wouldn’t let me sit in the hotel lobby or use the lamp in the kitchen. The only other place where there was enough light to read by was the saloon. I didn’t go in. I stood outside by the front window. But it was so noisy, and the men were so—so vile, I decided—” She lifted her chin. “I decided I would simply have to buy a candle so I could read in the shed.” With that, she picked up her candle, snuggled the kitten onto her shoulder, turned on her heel, and marched out the door.

  Gideon’s voice failed him. God had directed him to wait, but instead he blurted out what was on his mind. Why couldn’t he learn to listen to God’s instruction? He kicked the corner of the counter and strode to the door. “Tessa! Tessa, wait!”

  He caught sight of her skirt as she disappeared around the corner of the alley. He stood there staring, hoping she would come back—but she didn’t. Nausea stung his throat. He owed both Tessa and God an apology.

  He was about to turn to go back to the storeroom for a heartfelt talk with God when something farther down the street caught his eye. Standing out in front of the land office was Hubert Behr, and walking up to greet him was Kilgore. The two men shook hands, spoke for a moment, exchanged a piece of paper, and then stepped inside the land office together.

  Chapter 11

  Tessa stormed down the alley toward the shed, huffing each breath out in rhythm with her pace. If Gideon Maxwell thought for one minute he could stand there and accuse her of being a wanton woman, he could just go soak his head in a horse trough.

  She’d believed him when he said he was her friend and even felt fluttering tickles in her middle when she thought about him. The confusing ache in her heart tugged her first one way then another.

  Realization swept over her. The flutters she experienced every time Gideon entered her thoughts were more than simple attraction. The comfort and warmth of being in his presence grew stronger each time she saw him. To think he assumed she was a woman of loose morals made her eyes water as surely as if he’d slapped her.

  The kitten in her arms protested her tightening grip.

  “I’m sorry, Daisy. I’m not angry at you.” She ran a gentle caress over the kitty’s head.

  Daisy leaned into Tessa’s stroking and purred.

  Tessa scooted the kitten into the shed and closed the door. The mice were in for a surprise.

  Perhaps she’d been surprised as well. Maybe Gideon wasn’t the man she thought him to be.

  She hastened back to the kitchen and grabbed her apron. Working would take her mind off Gideon. A basket of apples sat beside the large mixing bowl on the worktable. She thumped an apple on the table and stabbed at it, hacking it in half, then in quarters, taking pleasure in chopping the hunks into thin slices.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  Looking up, she found both Flossie and Tillie staring at her.

  Tillie shrugged. “You seem kinda moody. Something wrong?”

  Gideon’s question rang in her ears. “Why would you do that?” Yes, there was something wrong, but she forced a smile and shook her head. “I’m thinking about adding a buttermilk spice cake to tomorrow’s menu.”

  Flossie wasn’t fooled. “Is that what you went to the mercantile to talk to Gideon Maxwell about? Spice cakes?”

  Tessa riveted her eyes on her task as she continued to slice the apples. “What would Gideon Maxwell know about dessert menus?” What does Gideon Maxwell know about anything? “I was also thinking about making a peach cobbler. Can we get peaches from any of the local farmers?”

  “You can buy canned peaches at the mercantile.”

  Tessa tightened her grip on the handle of the knife. “I’d rather use fresh.” She pushed the blade of the knife through the apples with increased energy.

  Flossie reached out and patted her shoulder. “Whatever’s wrong between you two, you need to talk it out.”

  The apple slipped from Tessa’s hand, and the knife took a tiny nick from her finger. She sucked in a breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stuck her finger in her mouth.

  “Yes, you do. You were happy as a lark when you left here. You came back with fire in your eyes. What happened?”

  Tessa examined her finger. Not much damage. On the other hand, her heart was bleeding. How foolish to allow herself to daydream about a man like Gideon. Hadn’t Papa always told her not to get any highfalutin ideas about attracting the attention of an upstanding man? She could still hear his bitter laughter when he told her she might as well fall in love with one of the pigs.

  Fall in love? The notion of love was a will-o’-the-wisp. Nothing there to grasp and hold. Oh, how she wished she could talk to Mama.

  Tears burned the inside of her eyelids, and she stiffened her spine. Day-dreams might be fine for schoolgirls, but she had a job to do. Swallowing hard, she picked up another apple and quartered it.

  Flossie still waited for an answer.

  “Nothing worth talking about, and I need to get these pies in the oven.”

  By two o’clock the lunch crowd dwindled. Tessa began clearing dirty dishes and changing table linens in the dining room.

  Mr. Kilgore walked in with a man whom she remembered seeing once or twice.

  Tessa did her best to avoid following the pair with her eyes. Her face still heated when she remembered the way Mr. Kilgore embarrassed her in front of Gideon. Not that it mattered anymore. Gideon already thought the worst of her.

  “Tessa! Bring coffee for myself and Mr. Behr to my office.”

  Hurrying to do his bidding, she set cups and a coffeepot on a clean tray with spoons, cream, and sugar. She carried the tray to the back of the dining room where the door to the office stood open and deposited it on the small table beside the gleaming mahogany desk.

  Not wishing to linger in Mr. Kilgore’s presence any longer than necessary, she poured the coffee and returned to the dining room to finish cleaning. The tables along the back wall all needed to be cleared and she couldn’t help hearing snatches of the men’s conversation as Mr. Kilgore’s voice carried into the quiet of the nearly empty dining room.

  “I understand you’ve made inquires about purchasing property in this area.”

  The other man’s reply was drowned out as Tessa stacked dishes on her tray, but a few disjointed words pulled her senses to attention.

  “…young man…Maxwell’s Mercantile…”

  Mr. Kilgore’s booming laughter rang out. “Gideon Maxwell is a fool. I already offered to buy that place of his, and he turned me down. You’d think he’d want to unload it.”

  Tessa continued to stack dirty plates and coffee cups, ashamed for listening but wide-eyed at Mr. Kilgore’s remarks about Gideon. Taking more time than necessary for her chore, she straightened chairs and tablecloths. Mr. Kilgore wasn’t making any effort to lower his voice. Was it wrong to tarry and hear more words that weren’t meant for her ears?

  “I already own several businesses in town.” Kilgore’s pompous tone irritated her. “I’m putting pressure on Jake Peabody who owns the gristmill. It won’t be long before I own that enterprise as well. The Standridge brothers own the sawmill, but I don’t think they’ll give me too much trouble about selling out. Maxwell is the only nut I haven’t been able to crack.”

  Tessa heard the sound of fingers drumming on the desktop, and the other man cleared his throat. “I see. Seems to me that you’
ve already acquired a rather substantial portion of the town.”

  One of the men took a noisy slurp of coffee.

  “Not only the town, Mr. Behr, but also some of the outlying areas. I have some inside sources who keep me apprised on …” He cleared his throat. “Well, let’s just say I have access to certain opportunities. Of course you’re privy to much of the same information—maybe even more so—working for the railroad as you do.”

  “It’s true that I’m privy to a great many things, Mr. Kilgore. Some things may surprise you.”

  Mr. Kilgore’s chuckle rang wickedly in her ears. “Ah Mr. Behr, that is precisely why I felt it might be advantageous for us to form a partnership.” A chair squeaked. “I’ve already begun to make some strategic moves, but with the information you can provide, we could triple our assets by this time next year.”

  “Strategic moves?”

  “You know that young man you were talking about, Gideon Maxwell? I happen to know he wants to buy a piece of land east of town. He’s been downright pigheaded over refusing to sell the mercantile to me, so I bought that piece of land myself. Now, if he wants it, he’ll have no choice but to sell me the mercantile first. Then, if he wants that land, he’ll have to match the railroad’s price, and he doesn’t stand a chance of being able to do that. Not only will I have that prime stretch of land, but I’ll have the mercantile as well.”

  There was a pause. Tessa heard clicking china. She wished she could see the faces of the men.

  “Competition between land speculators is fierce, as you well know, Mr. Behr. A few creative adjustments of the survey maps will put us at a great advantage when it comes time for the contracts to be signed. In addition, business owners stand to turn a tidy profit by—shall we say—unofficial agreements with the railroad.”

  When the man named Behr finally replied, it sent a shiver down her spine. “Very shrewd, Mr. Kilgore. Very shrewd, indeed.”

  Tessa started to pick up her loaded tray when a water glass slid and tumbled to the floor.

  A moment after the crash, Mr. Kilgore appeared in the doorway. “What’s this? What are you doing, girl?”

  Tessa caught her lip between her teeth as she stooped to pick up the shards of broken glass. A rush of blood filled her face with heat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kilgore. I was just cleaning these tables and dropped a glass.”

  She didn’t dare look up. It wasn’t like she set out to eavesdrop on his conversation, but she didn’t hasten to move out of earshot either. The pieces of broken glass jiggled in her trembling hand.

  “This will come out of your pay! Now get this mess cleaned up.” He stomped back into his office and slammed the door.

  Relief wilted her shoulders. If he suspected her of listening to his conversation with Mr. Behr, he didn’t let on. More than happy to comply with his orders, she hoisted her burden of dirty dishes and carried them to the kitchen.

  Safely within the walls of the kitchen, she deposited the dishes by the sink and returned to her worktable. As she assembled the ingredients for tomorrow’s spice cakes, Mr. Kilgore’s words came back to her. Did Gideon know Mr. Kilgore had purchased the land he wanted? Her boss’s other statements regarding the railroad made no sense to her, but the arrogance in his voice raised the hackles on her neck. It didn’t take a Philadelphia lawyer to figure out that her employer was up to something unscrupulous. Now she had one more reason to dislike the man.

  While she measured flour and spices into her mixing bowl, she entertained the inclination to go and tell Gideon what she’d heard. Conflicting notions collided in her head. Yes, she had feelings for Gideon. If she didn’t, his reproachful questions wouldn’t have hurt so much. On the other hand, uneasiness over what she’d heard made her wish she could run to the mercantile this minute and tell Gideon. But repeating information not meant for her ears was as unethical as eavesdropping. Why add to Gideon’s low opinion of her?

  Anger welled in her stomach. She’d let her attraction to Gideon grow, and he’d stepped on it and ground it into the dust. No good could come of seeing Gideon right now, much less talking to him. She clenched her teeth, realizing the anger she felt wasn’t aimed solely at Gideon. Irritation crawled up from her gut, and she resented her own fickleness.

  Just forget about it. There’s nothing you can do.

  Forgetting about Gideon, however, wasn’t so easy. Despite her every effort to resist thinking of him, he still appeared in her mind’s eye. The look on his face when she stormed out of the mercantile stayed with her as she poured the cake batter into pans and slid them into the oven. What exactly was that look? Disappointment? Suspicion? Gideon’s expression didn’t look anything like the accusation she’d been accustomed to seeing in Papa’s eyes. Was it possible what she saw was regret?

  Gideon’s own words indicted him. “If you want to have a friend, you have to be a friend.” She’d not had many friends in her lifetime, hardly even one if she didn’t count Mama. But she knew enough to understand that friends didn’t believe untruths about each other based only on appearances.

  What hurt most was the growing realization that she already regarded Gideon as more than just a friend.

  Daisy purred and rubbed against her ankles when Tessa opened the door of the shed. No scurrying sound fell on her ears upon her arrival.

  The day’s tension lifted as she picked up the little cat and rubbed its whiskers against her cheek. “I brought you a little bit of milk. Flossie said it would start to sour by tomorrow anyway.”

  She set Daisy down with the saucer of milk and smiled as the kitten cautiously sniffed it, took a few tentative laps, and then ignored the offering.

  “I know it’s not your mama’s milk, but it’s the best I can do.” She glanced around the shed wondering if Daisy had encountered any of her roommates. Maybe they’d spread the news to all their rodent relatives that a cat now resided here.

  Placing the folded quilt beside the trunk, she created a place where she could sit and have her supper. She unwrapped the cold biscuit and small bit of sausage she’d brought home and retrieved the remainder of the crackers and cheese stored in the crock. She thanked God for her meal, then she broke off a piece of cheese and popped it into her mouth along with a nibble of sausage.

  As the rich flavors satisfied her hunger, she watched Daisy play with a corner of the quilt. Despite the strain of her day, she couldn’t help smiling at the kitten’s fierce little growls as she pounced on some imaginary prey. Then she realized Daisy had some kind of object between her paws.

  Leaning over to get a closer look, Tessa’s mouth dropped open with horror. Daisy’s plaything was a mouse’s tail. “No wonder you weren’t hungry for milk. Your belly is full of … mouse!”

  Tessa lost her appetite and tucked the rest of her meal away in the crock. With the edge of her shoe, she shoved the bodiless tail out the door with a shiver. “I know, Daisy, you’re just doing your job.” It was a good thing, she supposed, but somehow the kitten lost some of her innocence and took on the aura of a miniature predator.

  As the shadows engulfed the shed, she lit her candle. A cracked coffee cup served as her candle holder. She held the candle aloft to search every corner of the shed for other remains of Daisy’s lunch. Finding none, she breathed a sigh of relief and sat down on the quilt with Mama’s Bible.

  Instead of the Psalms tonight, she turned to the New Testament and began leafing through the pages, reading an underlined verse here or there. The marks showed her the words Mama read and loved then left as a legacy to her.

  “Words to live by, honey girl. You can always trust the words in God’s Book.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. If only Mama were here to answer some of the questions taunting her.

  She turned a few more pages and found a folded bit of newspaper with torn edges. She carefully unfolded the yellowed paper and held it close to the candlelight to read the date. “August 12, 1866.” Three days before her fourth birthday.

  The article described the arres
t of three men in Madisonville, Kentucky. One of the men stood accused of murder while the other two claimed to know nothing about it. Since they were in the company of the guilty man, it was at first assumed they, too, were guilty. During the trial, evidence proved the other two men innocent of the murder but suspected in various petty crimes. One of those two men had escaped custody before the verdict could be pronounced, and the name of the escapee caused her blood to freeze. “Doyle Langford.” Papa?

  She looked at the pages in First Thessalonians where Mama had tucked the scrap of newspaper. There was a verse underlined. “Abstain from all appearance of evil.” Accompanying the verse was a dried smudge that appeared to be a water droplet. Or a teardrop.

  “If Papa hadn’t associated with the guilty man, he wouldn’t have appeared guilty and would’ve had no reason to run.”

  Tessa’s hand aimlessly stroked Daisy’s fur. Being in the wrong place with the wrong person had brought suspicion down on Papa and heartache to her mother. In the candle’s glow, she read the verse following the one Mama had underlined. Paul, the writer of First Thessalonians, prayed for the people he loved to remain blameless.

  Tessa leaned back and closed her eyes. Had she done the very thing Papa did? By standing out in front of the saloon, she’d placed herself in the position of appearing guilty. Maybe Gideon’s question wasn’t one of reproach at all, but rather one of sorrow.

  Chapter 12

  Gideon stared over the top of his coffee mug. “Maybe she’ll come into the mercantile today,” he muttered aloud. Would speaking the words make them so?

  “Did you say something?”

  He turned to see Martha at the sink looking at him over her shoulder. She was probably afraid he’d bite her head off again like he’d done yesterday. They’d teased each other throughout their childhood, but the past several days, even Martha tiptoed around him.

  “No, nothing important.”

  Martha wiped her hands on a towel and crossed the kitchen to sit at the table with him. “Gideon, just go and talk to her. What’s stopping you?”