by Lyn Cote
His mouth watered. Griddle cakes with syrup. What a woman. And for so much more than just her delicious meals…
*
Later Rachel watched Brennan and Jacque head off to scout land for Levi. She had packed them a lunch in case they couldn’t get back to her at noon. Something had changed about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Did this have to do with Posey’s letter from her father? She had hoped he would talk about the letter, but no, not a word. That man.
She turned back to her day’s work. Before long, she heard a boat whistle. She had made more caramels and sponge candy earlier and headed to town to sell several trays of it.
“Miss Rachel!” Levi hailed her from his doorway.
She waved and then had a thought. “Mr. Comstock, when Mr. Merriday returns, please accompany him and Jacque to my place for the evening meal.”
He looked surprised and pleased. “Thank you, miss! I’ll do that.”
She hurried on with only a nod in reply.
People from two boats vied for her candy, some pushing forward like children. A tall man in a suit bought a bag and one individual portion and then stood in the shade, eating it and observing her. His attention caused her to be wary. Why was he watching her so intently?
She sold out and then began to turn.
“Miss Rachel?” The man who’d been looking at her moved closer.
She sized him up. Dressed in a neat, dark suit with a stiff white collar and a gold pocket watch, she guessed from the elaborate fob, he didn’t incite anything beyond polite interest. “My full name is Rachel Woolsey.”
“Is there somewhere we could discuss a matter of business?”
This stopped her in her tracks. “Business?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling.
After a few moments of surprised indecision, she led him to the wide front porch of the Ashfords’ store and invited him to sit beside her on the long bench there. No one could make anything of that.
The man drew a small ivory calling card from a gold case in his inner pocket. “I’m the owner of several concerns in Dubuque, Iowa. I am interested in adding an exclusive candy counter to my food emporium. Have you ever considered selling in bulk?”
She stared at him and then read the card. “James Benson, proprietor and owner of the Benson Food Emporium. Office Second Street, Dubuque, Iowa.”
“I must confess that I am surprised at this question,” she murmured at last. And that a man will talk to a woman about business.
“The news of your fine candies has traveled down the river. A friend brought me a few not long ago and, Miss Woolsey, I have never tasted a better caramel. And your sponge candy—” he held up a piece “—is excellent, too. I always like to meet the person I do business with if I can. So I decided to come up and see if you’d like to supply my stores with your caramels and perhaps sponge candy.”
She blushed at his praise. “I never thought of selling in bulk,” she admitted. “I work alone.”
“Then perhaps it’s time to expand your operation,” he replied, smiling. “I hope you will write to me soon and let me know if you could supply me with several dozen caramels a week—until the river freezes. I have an open account with certain riverboat lines to convey products to my warehouse. I would of course expect exclusivity in your distribution to Iowa.”
“I will… I’ll think about it,” she stammered.
“We will need to discuss pricing and my percentage of each sale, but we can do that by mail after you’ve had time to consider my suggestion.”
She managed to nod.
He rose. “Thank you. I look forward to hearing from you, Miss Woolsey.”
She shook his hand and he strode away toward the boat landing. Her mind whirled with this news. The man had spoken to her as one businessperson to another, a revelation.
Mrs. Ashford whipped outside, her skirts snapping with her haste. “Miss Rachel, Ned told me you were talking to a man on our porch.”
The woman’s nosiness acted on Rachel like a spring tonic. She rose and held out his card. No use sparking speculation by withholding the facts. “He wants to order my candies in bulk.”
Mrs. Ashford snatched the card and read it. “Benson Food Emporiums. Oh, my. That is a large concern. How did he hear of you?”
Rachel recounted what she could recall of the interesting yet surprising encounter with Mr. Benson.
“Well!” Mrs. Ashford exclaimed. “Well!”
Rachel couldn’t decide whether the woman was happy for her or disgruntled or just surprised. “I must be getting back to my place. I have a lot to do today.” And a lot to think and pray about.
As she hurried homeward, rolling her cart through town, she felt Mrs. Ashford’s curiosity-filled gaze burn into her back. When she reached her place, she rolled the cart into the shade and then sat down on the bench near her door. Sell in bulk? What an idea.
She wished suddenly that Mr. Merriday were here. She’d become accustomed to his being available…but perhaps that wouldn’t last much longer. He still wanted to go to Canada.
She’d have time to observe him again at supper. Maybe then she could figure out what had changed. And what that change might mean.
*
Rachel took pains to look her best, sweeping her hair up, changing into a fresh white apron and splashing cool water on her face. She told herself it was because Mr. Comstock was to be her guest, but she knew better. She wanted to look her best for Mr. Merriday.
The sweltering day had been a long and lonely one. She’d tried to ignore the lonely part, singing to the birds that hopped on the nearby tree branches and even chatting away to the huddle of chickens in the yard. But now she could share her news with Mr. Merriday. What would he have to say?
Finally she heard male voices and forced herself to remain inside until the last moment. She didn’t want to betray how eager she was for their company, for his company. So she opened the door to find Brennan and Jacque washing their hands by her door.
Levi waved from behind them. “I washed up at home.”
She grinned at this. “I’m glad to have thee join us tonight. This is a sort of celebration. I’m anticipating that Mr. Merriday will have news about thy property and I…” she paused for effect “…have news of my own today.”
“What happened to you?” Jacque asked, drying his hands on the hucksack towel.
“All in good time,” she teased. “Come in.”
She’d prepared fried chicken. Mrs. Brawley, a neighbor, had decided to thin her chickens and had delivered birds already plucked. Since Rachel expected company for supper, she had purchased three.
“Wow! Fried chicken!” Jacque exclaimed and Levi joined in, too.
Soon the four of them sat at her table. She bowed her head for grace and then looked up. “Mr. Comstock, please help yourself.”
The blacksmith grinned and took a piece from the platter of crisp, golden chicken. By the time it reached Jacque, only a drumstick remained. She rose and filled the platter again to vocal approval.
“Now, Mr. Merriday, did thee find some land for Mr. Comstock?” she asked as she began to slice her chicken breast.
Brennan chewed and swallowed. “Good chicken, Miss Rachel, and yes, I found two tracts that are near the Whitmores.”
“Great,” Levi said and then bit into a crispy wing.
“Which one does thee think is best?” she asked.
“The one with its own spring,” Brennan said between bites. “In a drought year like this one, springs flow while wells may dry up.”
For a moment all four were silent as they contemplated the dry weather and the recent grass wildfire.
“What else?” Levi asked.
“Got a good stand of trees a-course. Creek runs near it, too, and a small meadow where we could build your cabin.”
Rachel’s heart lifted against her will at this news. She shouldn’t care that this sounded as if Brennan would be staying longer, but she couldn’t lie
to herself.
“Sounds great.” Levi continued eating his chicken and cornbread with a smile on his face. “I’ll apply for the claim on that land tomorrow.”
“Sight unseen?” Brennan asked.
“You were a farmer, weren’t you? You know more about land than I do. I was raised in town to be a blacksmith like my dad.”
“Is it hard to learn to blacksmith?” Jacque asked.
All three adults turned to the boy.
“’Course you could,” Brennan said.
“I think it would be interesting,” Jacque said with a shrug. He tried not to look pleased. Then he looked to her. “What’s your news, Miss Rachel?”
From her pocket, she retrieved the business card and handed it to Brennan.
He read it aloud and looked at her questioningly.
“Mr. Benson wants to buy my caramels and sponge candy in bulk.”
All three males stared at her. Openmouthed.
“Well, what does thee think of that?” she asked.
“What does in bulk mean?” Jacque asked.
“That means they want her to make large batches and they’ll sell her candy in their stores in Dubuque,” Levi replied. “That’s big.”
Rachel felt herself turn rosy with pleasure. “I don’t know if I can handle that. I mean soon Mr. Merriday plans on moving on—”
“What?” Jacque turned to Brennan. “What? Where we goin’?”
Brennan sent her a dark look. “Nowhere—yet. I had thought of Canada, but I’m not going nowhere anytime soon. It’s just I been helping Miss Rachel prove up her homestead and now I’m going to help Levi. No time to get my own land.”
Rachel frowned at him. Giving only part of the truth ranked as bad as an outright lie. And getting his own land—that was downright misleading. What about Canada? Had that changed? She wouldn’t let herself hope.
He sent her a stern look, forbidding her to contradict him. And he squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t be worryin’.”
Jacque looked down.
She drew in a deep breath. “Whether or not to sell in bulk is a big decision for me. But a welcome problem.”
The meal passed then with the three males talking little and eating every last piece of chicken. She wished Levi were married and Posey had come with him so she would have had someone to chat with, someone to distract her from staring at Mr. Merriday.
Afterward Levi sat with Brennan outside near where Jacque and she washed and dried the dishes. Then Levi thanked her again for a wonderful meal and at Brennan’s request let Jacque walk with him toward town.
Rachel guessed why Brennan remained behind and why he didn’t want Jacque present. She put the dishes away and came outside. The setting sun was fiery red, predicting another hot day on the morrow. She sat down next to Mr. Merriday. “Thee is planning on scolding me?”
“Why’d you say I was leaving?”
At his unfair question, she starched up. “Because thee has been saying that since the day thee was able to begin talking in June. Thee didn’t tell me not to mention it in front of Jacque.”
He grumbled, “I know.”
He’d poked her and she felt like goading him in return. “If thee plans on reaching Canada before winter, that will interfere with thy plans to help Levi.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” he snapped and then grimaced. “Sorry, that was not polite.”
“Matters have not gone as thee had foreseen,” she allowed. And I’m glad. Of course she couldn’t voice that sentiment.
“I wish that letter would come from Louisiana.”
She turned and looked him full in the face. “Does thee really think thee will be able to leave Jacque behind, even if he isn’t thy son?”
He glared at her, his brows drawn together almost fiercely. “He’s a great little kid. He’s had it rough but my keeping him won’t do him any favors—whether he’s my blood or not.”
His statement shocked her. “Whatever does thee mean? Thee is a fine man, Brennan Merriday. Thee has proved that over and over. I’m sorry thy homefolk cast thee out, but the fault did not lie with thee, but with their wicked, hard hearts.”
“I don’t know why I say things that I know will just fire you up. And I guess after drifting so long and people looking down on me, I just—”
“Then stop thinking that way. Thee is a fine man, Brennan Merriday. No one told me to think that. I know it from thy own actions since thee came to town.”
He didn’t reply and she let the silence grow between them.
“I read the letter from Posey’s father. He understood how it felt when everybody he’d ever known turned against him.” The sadness in his voice caught her breath.
She swallowed to clear her throat. “I think thee still believes that the people in thy hometown had a right to turn against thee. They didn’t. They were wrong. Thee was right.”
He rose, looking as if he were struggling to digest what she’d said. “I thank you for another good meal, Miss Rachel. And I bid you good night.”
He walked away with a wave of his hand, leaving her dissatisfied. The man was impossible. Why couldn’t he see that he’d done nothing wrong? Why couldn’t he let go of the past and live in the present—here in Pepin? Was she foolish to hope in the end he might stay?
*
On Sunday morning next, Brennan appeared at the door, his hair damp from the river and with Jacque beside him. Brennan was wearing his newer clothing from the Ashfords instead of his work clothes. “We ready to head to church?”
Rachel hid her surprise behind a bland nod. Brennan had never attended church with her or been a part of anything in the community. What did this change mean?
Was this due to his son’s presence or Posey’s letter? Brennan clearly had not healed from whatever had separated him from his wife and started him wandering. Rachel began praying that God would take control of this morning—more than in general. God, why does he want to go to church with me and the boy?
*
Brennan watched her turn and pick up her Bible from the bedside table and then snag her bonnet from the peg. Brennan accepted her Bible while she tied the pale ribbons under her chin, a pleasant sight.
Brennan tried not to back out now. He’d decided to go sit in the schoolhouse church. But his reasons tangled in the back of his mind. The one that had prompted him clearly was Jacque, what was best for him—whether he turned out to be his blood or not. If the boy had a future here, Brennan didn’t want to do anything to harm that. Wanted the boy to fit in. Besides, church was good for a boy—would teach him right from wrong.
As the three of them walked through town, Levi joined them in his Sunday best, too. Levi’s happiness over staking a claim and the subsequent granting of permission to court Miss Posey worried Brennan. The grandmother had given her permission, but she seemed an unreasonable kind of woman.
Soon the four of them joined the wagons and people on foot, converging on the log schoolhouse. Noah stood at the door, greeting his congregation. Here was one man Brennan respected. When Noah offered him a hand, Brennan shook it, smiling.
“I’m glad to see you, Mr. Merriday,” the preacher said without any reproachful tone in his words.
“Thanks, preacher,” Brennan replied.
Inside the door, an older man Brennan had seen around town in a wheelchair held out his hand. “I’m Old Saul, Mr. Merriday. I’m glad to meet you.”
Brennan shook the man’s gnarled hand, hoping he wouldn’t hear any scolding about why he hadn’t come sooner.
“I’ve met your son here before.” Old Saul reached over and shook Jacque’s hand and Levi’s. “We’re glad to have you with us this Sunday and in our town.”
Brennan doubted that but he mumbled something polite.
The older man appeared frail but he had a look that could pierce a man. Brennan nodded and moved ahead to let others greet Old Saul. He glanced at Rachel.
“I usually sit with my cousin’s wife,” Miss Rachel murmured.
“Yes, miss,” Brennan replied. “I think we’ll sit with Levi today.”
She nodded and moved forward to the front to sit beside Noah’s pretty wife, Sunny.
Then Levi led the two of them to a few pews behind the Ashfords. “This is where I usually sit,” the blacksmith murmured. The men sat with the boy between them. “Old Saul used to be the preacher before Noah,” Levi said quietly. “He’s a good man, always a kind word to everybody.”
Nodding, Brennan noted but didn’t acknowledge any of the interest his attending church elicited. He didn’t want to fit in here. He’d just come because he wanted the boy accepted—that was all.
One tall, elegant lady approached him. “Good day, Mr. Merriday. I am Mrs. Lang, Johann’s aunt.”
Brennan, Levi and Jacque rose politely.
“I am going to continue as teacher here at least for a few months,” she said. “The school board has a teacher coming but the man has met with an accident and so has been delayed. I hope you will be sending your son.”
“Of course,” Brennan replied without hesitation. “Schooling is good.”
Jacque looked undecided about this.
“Johann, I know, is looking forward to the start of school,” the woman said, smiling at Jacque and touching his shoulder.
This brightened the boy’s face. Mrs. Lang bid them good day and moved to sit with her husband, their baby, Johann and Gunther.
The wall clock read ten and the service started with a hymn, “Just As I Am, Without One Plea,” led by an older couple at the front. Brennan stood but didn’t sing a note. He was surprised to hear Levi sing with a strong tenor and Jacque piping a boyish soprano.
Levi must have sung louder than usual because people turned to look at him. And then Brennan saw Posey glance behind at Levi and smile. Brennan figured it out. Singing louder was like a bullfrog croaking to attract feminine attention. Brennan wished he could preserve the flash of amusement this brought him.
But soon everyone sat and the singing was done and the preaching began. He wondered what kind of preacher Noah Whitmore would turn out to be. He didn’t expect fire and brimstone and pounding the pulpit and he was right. Then Noah read Matthew 10: