Courting Miss Callie

by Dorothy Clark

  “...And that Ezra paid Sophia’s loan at the bank.”

  “Yes!” She half hissed the word. The yellow-striped cat stretched out on the carpet leapt up and hunched its back, the fur on its neck and back rising.

  “...And that now Sophia has hired a new stable hand, and Ezra has moved into the hotel.”

  “Yes.” The cat hissed and ran from the room, darting up the stairs. “I’m sorry, Tickles.” She called the apology after the furry, yellow blur of motion, whirled about and started back toward Willa. “And Ezra is acting as if he owns the place—which he does.”

  “Oh?” Willa frowned, then took another stitch. “I thought you said Ezra gave Sophia a...a relinquishment of...”

  “—collateral. He did. But there has to be a reason he’s—” She stopped, glared. “Must you sit there and sew.”

  Willa lifted her head and smiled. “Would it make you feel better if I paced with you?”

  “Yes! No! And I’m not pacing. I’m merely—”

  “—too agitated to sit down?”

  She huffed out a breath. “Wouldn’t you be? Ezra struts into the kitchen anytime he pleases—dressed in his fine suits and fancy shirts and waistcoats—then sits there drinking coffee and talking plans with Aunt Sophia.”

  “Ezra doesn’t seem a strutting sort of man to me.”

  “That’s not the point.” She scowled and tugged at the loose waist of her dress. “This gown is too big.”

  “It wasn’t the last time you wore it. You must be losing weight.” Willa glanced up. “Is your appetite off?”

  She stiffened, placed fisted hands on her hips and stared down at her friend. “Stop it, Willa. I know what you are doing, and it won’t work. We are not discussing my appetite or the lack thereof, we are discussing my problem.”

  “Ezra.”

  “Yes!”

  “Which brings us back to what I asked before.” Willa laid her sewing aside and fastened her gaze on her. “I repeat—what has you so upset, Callie? What is it you object to? That Ezra rescued you from a disastrous marriage to a man you cannot abide? Or that he paid off Sophia’s loan and gave her back her hotel free of debt? Or perhaps it’s that he now wears fine clothes and drinks coffee while talking with his friend? Villainous acts, indeed.”

  The starch left her spine. She turned away to hide the tears stinging her eyes. “You may think me foolish, but there is a reason he’s done those things, Willa. I know there is. I just don’t know what it is.”

  “Then why don’t you let him tell you? You said he asked—”

  She whipped around, jutted her chin into the air. “He’s a deceiver, Willa. How can I believe him? You and Aunt Sophia, Joe, everyone...you’re all willing to simply forget his deception and accept him as he is now. But someone has to be on guard against him. I know wealthy men like Ezra Ryder. They always have selfish motives for the things they do. There is always a sly reason—”

  “Callie Rose Conner! That is so unfair and unjust. Shame on you. You are allowing your experiences with the arrogant and prideful men your father sought out to be your suitors to color your judgment. All men and women—from the wealthiest to the poorest—have reasons for the things they do or don’t do. And those reasons are often self-serving, though not always selfish. There is a difference. You had a reason for coming to your Aunt Sophia that was self-serving, but not selfish. How do you know that Ezra did not have that same sort of reason for keeping silent about who he is?”

  She stared at Willa, taken aback by the lecture. “Very well. Let us ascribe a ‘pure’ motive to Ezra’s original deception and set it aside. We now know he owns banks, and an insurance business, and a custom house, and who knows what else in New York City. Why does he stay on here in Pinewood? Why does he not go back to his businesses and his life there? There has to be a reason. And I don’t want Aunt Sophia hurt.”

  “Sophia? Or you, Callie? Will you not listen to Ezra’s explanation because you’re afraid to let him into your heart?”

  She gasped, then turned to go. “Think what you will.”

  Willa’s hands gripped her shoulders, held her. “Listen to me, Callie. I understand that fear. I almost lost Matthew because I was afraid to trust him. I was afraid if I let him into my heart, he would turn out to be like my father and Thomas. Don’t make that mistake. Oh, Callie...give Ezra a chance.”

  “A chance for what?” She swallowed away the tears flooding the back of her throat. “I don’t know why Ezra is staying here in Pinewood, Willa—but it’s not because of me. He’s—he’s never— That is...” She took a breath to steady her voice. “He’s always polite and...nothing more. He’s never even told me he thought I was pretty.” The times Ezra had the opportunity to take her in his arms and did not flooded her mind. “I don’t know what he is after in Pinewood, but I know it’s not me. I’m concerned that it has to do with Aunt Sophia and the hotel. Why else would he want to explain his deception and gain my approbation.”

  She stepped out from under Willa’s hands and walked to the entrance struggling to stifle the ache in her heart. “Remember me to Matthew. And give Joshua and Sally my love.”

  She let herself out of the parsonage and started down the walk to Main Street, pausing at the sight of two tall, trim, well-dressed men standing in the large empty field beside the church. Ezra and Matthew. What were they doing?

  She stood a moment and watched them walking about and waving their hands through the air, nodding and shaking their heads, then hurried to cross the street before they noticed her. She was in no condition for another confrontation with Ezra Ryder.

  * * *

  Ezra rode north along the road leading out of the village toward Olville. He held Reliable to a walk, eyed the open acreage dotted with trees on the side of the road opposite the river. He hadn’t cared for the Allegheny’s floodwaters flowing so close to the Sheffield House stables when he arrived.

  He rode a short distance, stopped and twisted in the saddle to glance back over his shoulder. The land as far as Oak Street was empty of buildings. On the far corner of the street was the village park with the gazebo, and beyond it, farther back along Main Street was the Pinewood Church with the parsonage behind it. On the river side of Main Street stood the Sheffield House. Perfect. Both were in plain sight, and within easy walking distance.

  He turned back and looked out over the flat acreage to a spot where a group of elm trees towered and imagined a house set in the middle of them with a stable behind it. And behind the stable, a barn—there, at the place where the land began to rise in a gentle slope to the high, forested hill that backed the property. A perfect pasture.

  He smiled and reined the bay that direction. “Let’s have a run out to that hill, fella. I want to see if there’s any water on this land.” He nudged Reliable with his heels, sat deep in the saddle and enjoyed the bunch and thrust of the strong muscles beneath him as the bay’s flashing hooves ate up the distance.

  Sunlight glistened on water that flowed over a rock bed in a narrow brook that ran parallel to the high hill. The bay took the small stream in a smooth leap, threaded through the trees that marched alongside it and raced on.

  “Whoa, boy. Ease up now.” Ezra slowed Reliable then drew the gelding to a halt at the base of the forested hill and scanned the thick growth of trees that covered it. The whisper and chuckle of water over rocks caught his attention.

  He slid from the saddle and led the bay to the edge of the woods, walking toward the sound. Water seeped from between layers of slate that formed a shelf high above him, then splashed down onto a tumble of rocks and slate that formed a small pool, overflowing into a rill that ran toward the field. He’d found the source of the small brook.

  The hush of the woods settled over him. He stood watching the water, thought about the delight of a young boy coming upon such a place and exploring the surro
unding woods. He wasn’t sure about young girls—his sister had been timid. But from the tales Callie told of her childhood adventures with Daniel and her friends, not all girls were like Iris.

  His pulse quickened at the thought of being wed to Callie—of the children they would have together. “Please Almighty God, grant that Callie will allow me to explain why I let her believe I was a laborer. Please touch her heart with understanding and forgiveness, and grant that she will give me her love and allow me to love her all of my days.” He whispered the prayer into the vastness of God’s creation, listening to the sounds in the stillness.

  Birds twittered, hopped along the branches of the trees, disappearing into their hidden nests. A soft breeze stirred the leaves high in the treetops. Beside him there was a quiet rustle of vines and ferns disturbed by small creatures, and on the forest loam beneath the giant pines climbing the hill, the quiet tread of dainty hooves.

  The bay twitched his ears forward. He placed his hand on Reliable’s muzzle and waited.

  A doe stepped out from among the trees at the far side of the small pool, lifted her head and tested the air, then moved on to the water. Two more deer followed. He watched them drink then wander off a short distance and disappear among the trees.

  Their own deer path.

  The thought settled deep in his heart, brought an unshakable surety of God’s blessing. Thank You, Lord.

  He walked the bay back to the edge of the field and climbed into the saddle. “Let’s go, boy. I’ve got some property to buy.” He tapped his heels and let the gelding run over the tree-dotted fields that would soon hold the home he would build for Callie and their children.

  * * *

  Callie frowned at the scrape of a chair’s legs against the floor upstairs and glared up at the ceiling. How was she to sleep knowing Ezra was awake and, no doubt, working out the details of his plan—whatever it was. And why had her aunt given him room number two when he requested it because the window looked out upon the barn and the river? Sophia knew perfectly well room number two was above her bedroom. Of course, to be fair, Sophia did not know it would matter. It shouldn’t matter.

  Footsteps crossed the floor above, then stopped.

  She tensed, listening to the silence. Finally! She flopped over onto her side and burrowed her fisted hand beneath her pillow. He must have—

  Footsteps went back across the floor. The chair scraped. He coughed.

  She whipped back the covers, lunged from the bed, jammed her feet into her slippers, snatched her dressing gown from the foot of the bed and stormed out into the kitchen.

  The trimmed lamp gave barely enough light to see by. She shoved her arms into the sleeves of her dressing gown, tied the bow closures and opened the back door. No squeak. Ezra had fixed it the day Otis came. He seemed to know how to fix everything. Probably from growing up on a—

  No! No! No! She would not think about him as a young boy helping his parents on their farm. He had grown into a deceiving man of business and that is the way she must think of him.

  She eased the door shut and sat on one of the settles flanking the door. The one she and Willa had sat on that day Aunt Sophia had scolded them for taking Daniel’s homemade raft and going out on the river. What a foolhardy, dangerous thing for them to have done. The Lord had surely been with them, bringing them safely to the bank when the piece of branch Daniel used for an ore had broken in two. They could just as easily have been caught by the current and swept downriver to sink and drown.

  She rested her head against the high, wood back and closed her eyes. Have Your way, dear God. She had stood here on the porch and prayed that prayer, and God had brought her to safety again. He had rescued her from sinking and drowning in a marriage to Jacob Strand as surely as He had saved her from the Allegheny’s waters.

  “Thank You, Almighty God. Thank You for saving me from Jacob Strand. I am so very, very thankful.” She whispered the words, opened her eyes and stared into the black night, held her lips from uttering the rest of the thought. But why, why did You have to use Ezra? Why did You bring him here? Now, it’s my heart that’s in peril.

  The breeze picked up. Raindrops pattered on the wood shingles of the roof, spattered on the steps and walkway. She curled into the corner of the settle, tucked her dressing gown over her feet and leaned her head against the wood wing. She would wait here until she was certain he was abed—then perhaps she could sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I went riding yesterday afternoon.”

  Callie stiffened, glanced at the reflected flames of the overhead lamps dancing on top of the black coffee Ezra swirled in his cup. Please don’t let him make conversation, Lord. Please—

  “I found a nice piece of property—well-watered, well-timbered, and with lots of good pastureland.”

  Property for what? She pressed her lips together to hold back the question and slapped the air bubbles out of the lump of bread dough she was shaping.

  She stole a look at him from beneath her lowered lashes, frowned and slapped the bread again—harder. How was she to ignore him when he leaned there against the worktable drinking coffee, his suit coat hanging open, that tapestry waistcoat laying against his flat stomach and his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He looked so comfortable, so relaxed, so well rested. And her walking around with lavender crescents under her dull, dry, burning eyes, all because he was in room number two.

  “Excuse me.” She snatched up the prepared pan sitting close to where his lean hips pressed against the table, thought about brushing his dark brown suit coat with her floury hand. It would serve him right for being where he wasn’t wanted, wasn’t supposed to be—especially before dawn. Guests were not permitted in the kitchen. Of course, guests did not pay off your loan and give you back your hotel free and clear. Her stomach knotted. Dear God, please reveal the reason for Ezra’s subterfuge—and for his largess.

  “Want to know what else I found on the land?”

  How did he do that with his voice? He hadn’t moved an inch but it felt as if he were right beside her. She blew out a breath, and groped around in her head for an answer other than the “yes” she wanted to give. “I’m busy.”

  She turned to the shelf beside the stove, shoved the pan of dough beneath the towel covering the other loaves already sitting there to proof in the warmth. What was taking Agnes so long? All she had to do was bring the eggs, bacon and milk from the buttery. She turned back to the worktable, began cleaning up the spot where she’d worked with the dough.

  “Yes. I can see that you’re busy.” He drained his cup, straightened and took a step.

  Good. He was leaving.

  “I’ll get my own coffee.” He moved toward the stove.

  Oh, no. She’d been caught with him in that confined space before. She darted to the opposite end of the worktable, circled around it and stood in front of the step back cupboard, her heart pounding, her mind filled with the memory of him drawing her close. Tears welled, stung her dry eyes.

  She took down plates and cups to set the table. It was getting crowded with Otis and Ezra. Why didn’t he go eat in the dining room with the rest of the guests? She grabbed flatware out of the drawer.

  “Good morning, everyone. Doing my job, Callie?” Sophia stepped into the kitchen, smiled and took the dishes from her.

  She wiped her empty hands down the front of her apron skirt and pushed at her wayward curls. Now, what could she do? Where was Agnes? She glanced toward the door.

  “What is this?” Sophia put down the dishes and picked up a rolled piece of brown paper.

  “That’s a sketch I drew last night.”

  So that’s what he had been doing. Curiosity pricked. A sketch of what? She edged closer to see without letting Ezra know of her interest, saw him start toward the table and turned back toward the cooking area.r />
  “It’s a building.”

  Sophia’s comment slowed her steps. Had this to do with the property he had mentioned? She stepped more quietly, listening.

  “Yes. I thought perhaps you might like to see it, as you inspired the idea.”

  “Me?”

  The door opened wide. Agnes leaned against it, holding the basket of food. Otis edged by her, glanced at them over the load of stovewood in his arms and dipped his head, stepping to the woodbox.

  She smiled and nodded, and tried to hear Ezra over the sound of the stovewood being dumped into the box.

  “...talking with people. They all were very—”

  “I’m sorry I took so long, Callie. I...waited to hold the door for Otis.”

  She tamped down the urge to shush Agnes, and looked up. The plain young woman’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes glowing. She looked almost pretty. Oh, please let her be pretty in Otis’s eyes. What a difference the favorable regard of the right man made in a woman’s heart, and to her countenance. And the lack of the right man’s favorable regard, also. “I understand, Agnes.” She forced a smile, then strained to hear Ezra’s conversation with Sophia. “Let’s get breakfast started.”

  She pulled the slab of bacon from the basket Agnes set on the table, and poised her knife over it.

  “...safe will set here, behind my office. That’s this room.”

  Safe? She slid the knife through the thick slab, hissed as the blade caught her fingertip. His office? She dropped the knife and stuck her fingertip in her mouth, ignoring the stinging. A safe and an office. Was Ezra—

  “And what is this room?”

  She glanced at the spot where Sophia touched her fingertip to the piece of paper Ezra held flat against the table, but could make no sense of the lines partially hidden by her aunt’s hand.

  “That is the accountant’s room.”

  “And this is the counter where the teller will be?”

  “Yes.”

  A bank. Ezra was going to build a bank in Pinewood. Why? She closed her eyes to block out the image of Ezra’s strong, broad hands holding the drawing pinned to the table and tried to think back to all the conversations she’d overheard between Jacob Strand and his friends. There had always been an underhanded reason for their ploys. Surely one of those reasons would be—