Though he and Ram might work together, the man rarely, if ever, spoke to him. He certainly never included him in his plans. Because he had “interrupted” Ram and Zelly earlier, he knew genuine surprise when Ram and Manny sidled up to him.
The older brother, in his typical fashion, sneered at Hart. It was Manny who whispered, “You won’t want to miss the shivaree.” His words held a slight slur. Hart had noticed Manny sampling the “men’s” punch bowl all evening.
Manny speaking to him didn’t surprise Hart. After all, Hart was much friendlier with Manny than Ram. Their teller booths sat side by side. When they weren’t serving bank patrons, they spent much of the day in idle conversation.
Also, Manny was naturally friendly. He possessed an oddly innocent air about him that was a sharp contrast to his reckless older brother, Hart thought.
“We heard David’s got a room for the night at Halderson’s hotel. Ralph’s gone to romance the room number out of that maid, Gretchen.”
“Thanks for telling me. I’ll come along and see what happens.” He didn’t want to bother the couple on their wedding night. Still, it would be better to go along and try to stop anything too outlandish.
How he would ever convince Ram to change his plans? That was a mystery to him since that rogue had never given him even a small inkling of respect. He felt he owed it to Rebecca’s family so he would do what he could.
He laid a hand on Manny’s shoulder to gain his attention. “Where are we getting the pans to bang outside of the window?”
Shivarees had been a part of life while living on his father’s farm. Before the newlyweds settled in for the night, neighbors celebrated the marriage by ringing bells as well banging on pots and pans outside the house in the dark.
Surprised, he saw Ram pause at his question and heard his laughter. He wondered why the question was so funny.
“Pans? Like country hicks?” Ram snorted.
“We’re not banging pots like a bunch of old women. Someone’s going to watch them and tell us what happens in the room.”
With a leer he got to the heart of his plan. “At just the right moment, we’ll let the busy couple know we’re there!”
Evil! What other word described the man?
After Ram mentioned intimacy, Hart was glad they were out of the barn. With the dark, moonless night, no one could see the red staining his cheeks. As much as possible, he kept any thought of relations out of his mind.
Ram took a long drag from a silver flask he drew out of his inside coat pocket. Satisfied, he passed it around.
Evil and drunk!
Once Hart received it, he resisted the urge to wipe off the flask’s top. Rather than drink, he placed his tongue over its mouth as he tipped it up.
He’d risk the germs but not the dampening effect on his mind he knew the alcohol would have. He refused to let himself become like his father.
After pretending to drink, Hart handed the flask to Manny and watched him tip it up, trying to drain it dry. Manny grimaced when his brother snatched it away suddenly, shoving him roughly. Hart supposed he was used to Ram’s treatment since he didn’t fight back. Instead, he gave a drunken giggle.
After downing their liquid courage, Ram and the group continued the walk to town. Passing the Fuller house, Hart saw that the windows were already dark.
He’d been afraid that Mrs. Fuller would be yelling at Zelly. The darkness seemed to prove him wrong, and he hoped she was safe in bed.
Even though the reception took place on the Hoffman farm, the group still wasn’t far from town. The farm was only a scant mile outside of Idyll Wood.
This allowed the Hoffman children to attend school in Idyll Wood instead of a country school. The farm’s location also worked well for Hart. He could still reside there while he worked at the bank.
After about twenty-five minutes of listening to the drunken songs, the sight of the brick hotel by the light of lanterns hung along the street brought relief to Hart. Built near the edge of town, the hotel stood close to the train depot.
For a Saturday night, Hart thought the town seemed very quiet. The worst of the carousers must have been in with him in this group.
“Pssst!” The sound came from the alleyway along side of Halderson’s Restful Rooms Hotel.
Ram held up a hand. Then he stepped into the alley which swallowed him whole by its darkness.
Hart could hear a low buzz of whispers from that direction. A nervous giggle periodically slipped out of Manny to break the silence. Restless, the young drunk shifted from one foot to the other on the dry, crunchy grass.
When Ram returned, Ralph Stinson came with him. Both carried an end of a wooden ladder. Where did they get it? Hart didn’t think they could have carried it far as they were struggling with its weight.
He swiveled his head away when he saw Ram looking around for help. Ram softly called to his brother and another reveler, Carl Sittig, to grab hold of the ladder.
Hart and the remainder of the group followed along behind the ladder the two carried to the back of the hotel. He knew there was a small garden, carefully tended for the enjoyment of the guests, located there.
After the two leaned the ladder over the yellow blossoms of a forsythia bush, Hart was surprised by Ram’s question of “Okay, who does the honors?” Everything was planned up to this point. He expected him to order one of his cronies up the ladder.
“They’re on the second floor so someone has to go up.” Now that it was time to do the deed, Hart scornfully realized that Ram and Ralph could think of the ideas but weren’t willing to do anything dangerous.
Carl pushed a stupidly grinning Manny forward and he became the volunteer. Tipsy, Manny made a good victim.
Hart winced when Manny’s foot missed the first rung. He reached out to steady him. Then he climbed the ladder.
A collective gasp burst from the group as Manny slipped on a rung farther up the ladder. Hart expected him to give up at that point. However, he quickly grabbed the rung above him and righted himself.
“Ish too short Ram. Can’t reach the winder,” Manny slurred from the top of the ladder.
Couldn’t he see that before he went up the ladder? He must be really drunk if that surprised him.
It looked to him as if Manny were preparing to back his way down the ladder. He assumed that he would give up, as he had expected. Ram barked out a harsh, yet soft, command that stopped his brother.
“Shhhh!” hissed Ram. “Just reach the sill with your fingertips and pull yourself up, numskull!’
Manny swayed as his arms stretched and his hands gripped the window sill. Then it happened.
With a sort of pity, Hart watched his clumsy feet swing and kick out before knocking over the ladder. Manny squealed and clung to the sill, his angular body dangling while his feet thrashed wildly.
Above Manny’s head, a shade went up and two hands quickly raised the window. “What in the blue blazes is happening?”
David’s control impressed Hart. He might have been tempted to let loose with one the words his father used when he was drunk.
Hart waited to see if anyone would put the ladder up for poor Manny. If he believed Manny faced any real danger, he would have rushed forward to do it.
Suddenly Mr. Halderson burst out the back door. He stomped up to the men who were laughing at Manny’s acrobatics.
“Get him down now! Ram Strong, what are you thinking coming here to my hotel? I know you put your little brother up to this.” No one moved, frozen like frightened rabbits.
“By thunder, you are all just a bunch of children! When will you all grow up?” In the dim light from the hotel’s windows, Hart saw the deep red of the hotel owner’s angry face.
“I want him down now I said. What are you, deaf as well as stupid? Get the ladder up. Carl Sittig, you do it! Now! Bother my guests! Coming to my place of business…” The rant continued on.
Hart decided this shivaree was the most entertaining one he had ever participated in.
I should be ashamed of myself. Instead he preened mentally that he could easily carry the weight Ram had struggled under earlier.
They followed the gang of disappointed young men who trudged away from Halderson’s--once again--Restful Rooms Hotel. “Where do you want us to take the ladder, Ram?”
“Not my ladder so I don’t care!”
Typical Ram, not caring about other people’s property.
Motioning for Manny to put his end of the ladder down, they leant it against the front of the hotel. If neither Ralph nor Ram cared, why should he?
He set his hand in a friendly fashion on Manny’s shoulder and said, “Don’t feel badly about the shivaree Manny. You gave the newlyweds a nice present by failing.”
Manny looked confused. Hart told him, “Never mind,” before turning him toward Meyers’ Biergarten. The other young men in the group already entered it.
Wanting to be sure they were truly abandoning their shivaree, he continued shadowing the group. Entering the tavern with Manny seemed a good way to be sure Ram and the others let him tag along.
Hart and a few of the others added chairs to a round table in one of the saloon’s dark corners. Once seated, they grumbled complaints about old men, especially Mr. Halderson, started.
Shaking his head at the waitress, he let her know he wasn’t ordering and silently moaned. He knew an almost crippling fatigue as he sat there, feeling weary from the complaints around him as well as physically tired after his full day.
He rarely went out at night and certainly had never been in any type of saloon. Deciding that Ram and his cronies were going to drown their sorrows rather than actually do anything, he was about to rise. The sound of Zelly’s name stopped him.
“She don’t have a protector now that Rebecca’s gone. Always wondered if she’d be a good toss.” He had never liked Ralph. His words deepened that feeling. “Quiet ones have lots of stored up passion.”
“Still waters do run deep,” laughed Ram. “What you say to a bet? Which one of us can take her first? Loser gives his horse to the winner.”
1, 2, 3, 4…. Hart started counting. He’d explode if he didn’t. He couldn’t leave to vent his temper outside since he needed to hear any plans they made.
It would be useless to argue with the two. Hart had learned by his father’s example that it was useless to argue with a drunk.
“…can’t know that the winner really won. Ram, you brag all the time. I say you let me know when. I’ll hide and watch.”
Why couldn’t these two just be content with Shirleen Gunderson? According to gossip, she’s available to anyone for four bits? These idiots actually believe it would be fun to ruin a girl’s life and reputation.
With as much as Ram liked to brag and drink, he didn’t think this bet would stay a secret. Before long, the men of the community would know about it. And as for Ralph suggesting that one man would watch while the other did the deed, Hart felt physically ill with disgust.
What were they, animals?
Before he shook his head out of revulsion, Hart caught himself. He didn’t want to let on to these two idiots that he was paying close attention to their conversation.
Neither Ram nor Ralph spoke about plans for seducing Zelly. He supposed it was because each knew his horse was at stake and didn’t want to give the other an advantage.
It would have been convenient to know their plans. He didn’t need to know, though, since he would never allow either to be alone with Zelly. He silently vowed that. He’d speak with Tante Greta first thing tomorrow morning about a plan to protect her.
Before long, Ralph rose unsteadily from the table along with a few others in the group and left. An unconscious Manny already lay on the floor. That left Hart alone at the table with Ram.
Unable to resist, he issued a subtle warning. “Just leave her alone Ram!” At first, he appeared confused. Then a condescending as well as speculative expression filled Ram’s face. Hart should have known better than to say anything.
“Got the hots for that Fuller girl? Well, I intend to find out once and for all what she’s full of. Maybe I’ll let you know...”
Hurrying away from the table and out of the saloon, Hart ran from the man’s filth. He needed to sleep. Tomorrow he planned to think on how to protect Zelly. He expected terrible things in the next few days.
Chapter 3
Sunday, Hart happily sat beside Zelly in one of the short pews in the cozy church sanctuary. Because of the lack of space, his shoulder rubbed against hers. With the two Hoffman boys also jammed into the pew, space was tight.
The squirming boys pushed her shoulder more deeply into his arm. She gasped out a soft, “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” and quickly lifted her head to meet his eyes.
He hoped his chuckle and the shake of his dark golden head assured her that she couldn’t hurt him. In fact, what he felt was far from pain. The electricity he’d experienced when he touched her last night danced through him again.
“Lars, Sven! Stop wiggling or you will have to sit with your parents!” Immediately, they sat up with their backs against the dark wood of the pew. He noticed both boys obeyed her, like she was an older sister. Probably neither boy wished to sit with their stern parents.
“You will make a wonderful mother, Zelly. Do you ever dream of being married and having a family?” He couldn’t let the opportunity to bring up this topic slip by him.
“Ma’am will expect me to stay with her.” Does she want to stay with her mother? Perhaps Rebecca had been right and Ada Fuller had contrived a way to force her to stay.
Thinking about the woman pulled his eyes forward to her. She always sat in the front row of the Idyll Wood Lutheran Church.
Even before he met Mrs. Fuller, he had noticed her sitting alone in the front row. He wondered if she chose her seat as a message to the community. To him, she physically and metaphorically turned her back on the rest of them.
It still surprised him that she didn’t make Zelly sit with her. According to what Rebecca told him when he asked, she never had.
In fact, he couldn’t remember the shrewish woman ever appearing in public with her daughter, not even to walk to the church together. She allowed, even encouraged, Zelly to attend the church with the Hoffman family.
No, the grumpy woman sat alone in the short wooden pew at the front of the small church. He believed that this too was a message to the community, showing her lack of love for her only child.
Conversations around him died suddenly and his wandering mind returned to the church service. Pastor Nillson stepped behind the pulpit. While the church had no raised chancel, the pastor’s height easily allowed all who attended to see him, from the front row to the back.
With the invocation and confession completed, he shifted his body forward in anticipation. His plan to woo and protect Zelly started with the reading of an announcement.
“…And Greta Hoffman wants all to know that she is looking for a girl to do laundry and help in the garden. Pay will be good.” Without a pause the pastor went on. “Now let us listen to the words of I Corinthians chapter 13.”
While Pastor Nillson read the announcement, he fixed his eyes on Ada Fuller’s back. He thought she stiffened and became more alert after hearing about the job at the Hoffmans.
Word around town said that she had begun economizing. He hoped Mrs. Fuller would push Zelly to go to work for Mrs. Hoffman.
He wanted it to be the mother’s idea to let her out of the house. He didn’t want her cruel mother to berate her for being gone from home. Seeing the woman’s head and back straighten assured him that his plan was underway.
“And I can’t believe that, after Zelly’s friendship with Rebecca these many years, you didn’t think of her first. I demand you hire her! Ignore these others gathered here.”
Wanting to be sure his plan was worki
ng, Hart stood slightly behind and to the side of Greta Hoffman. He listened to Ada Fuller fall in with his plans, even though she wasn’t aware of her cooperation.
Immediately after leaving the church building, young woman and men and girls had eagerly surrounded Mrs. Hoffman, asking about the job. Ada Fuller’s gaunt body bulldozed through the crowd, already ranting before she reached Greta Hoffman. Once in front of her, Ada shook a finger in her face.
A flush of guilt stained Hart’s face at the tirade Ada directed at his Tante Greta. After all, she was suffering this because she had agreed to be a part of his plan. He knew she was a stalwart and capable lady; she would be fine.
He could always count on her. She was so similar to his mother.
Nodding her graying head and pasting a suitably contrite expression on her rounded face, Greta Hoffman apologized quickly. “Oh, you’re so right. Thought you’d need her at your house and I didn’t want to impose.”
“You have certainly been less than neighborly!” snorted Ada.
That was ironic, coming from a woman who refused to attend a long-time neighbor’s wedding. He shook his head and fixed a sober expression on his face, hiding a satisfaction that bordered on glee.
“She’s needed each morning. Seven o’clock, please.”
With a sharp nod of her head and a “harrumph”, Mrs. Fuller pushed through the crowd of disappointed young people. Without greeting anyone else around her, she was gone.
It was no surprise to see her leave the churchyard. She never visited with neighbors. Only the carrot of possible money had forced Mrs. Fuller to speak with Greta Hoffman that day.
Zelly stood off to the side of the group, directly opposite him, so he knew she had heard the conversation. After her mother left, she made as if to follow behind her.
Hart elbowed through the group, wanting to walk her home. He didn’t reach her before she was joined by Ralph Stinson!
Ralph Stinson at church! Hart hadn’t seen him inside that day. He imagined Ralph must have been watching from somewhere beyond the churchyard and hurried over when he saw her mother march off.
Hart's Longing (Secrets In Idyll Wood Book 1) Page 2