Under a Falling Star

by Caroline Fyffe

  With his sunken yellow cheeks, and the nasty cut across his brow that was crusted over, Pat wasn’t a pretty sight. “Pat?”

  “Don’t know exactly. I guess I was knocked out awhile. I woke up in a thicket patch in a pitch-black night with a pain in my head hurting so bad I could hardly see. I found the tracks, and started walking—in the wrong direction.” He blinked in the bright sunshine and looked around. “What happened? Is the money safe?”

  Dalton gave a wide smile. “Sure is. It’s locked up in the bank.”

  “And Evan, what happened to him?”

  “He’s under the doctor’s care, hanging on to his life by a thread,” Dalton said. “He hasn’t woken up. We’re waiting on representatives of the bank to get here, to tell us how to proceed.”

  “So Evan never came around at all? Or said a thing?”

  Dalton shook his head. “No. Nothing.”

  “How’d you get the money out?”

  “Blasted the roof off,” Dalton said.

  As best he could in his weakened state, Pat looked Dalton up and down approvingly. “Ya done good then, Babcock. With me and Evan out of the picture, all the responsibility fell to your shoulders. I’d like to meet the bank owner, if I could,” he said, “then I’d like two full plates of food.”

  “We’d be happy to oblige.” Albert’s tone was much more accommodating than Dalton had ever heard it.

  Dalton helped Pat off the wagon as Albert went into the bank for Frank. He gave a quick scan up and down the street. He didn’t want to be caught off guard. A moment later, Frank stepped through the door, his face concerned.

  He put out his hand to Pat and they shook. “I’m glad you’re alive, Mr. Tackly. Truthfully, we all had just about given up hope. Mr. Babcock said you’re the head guard and in charge of the shipment of cash. I want you to know, the money is securely locked in my vault, where it’ll stay until a proper way to transport it is worked out.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lloyd. We’d be in a real quandary if Logan Meadows hadn’t had a bank. I guess for now, I can breathe easy knowing that the money can stay just where it is.”

  Frank smiled, then nodded at Albert. Seemed to Dalton, an unspoken meaning passed between the two men. Dalton didn’t appreciate being kept out of the loop, and he let his expression mirror his feelings.

  “Babcock,” Albert said, “why don’t you take Pat down to the restaurant and get him something to eat. I’ll take over your shift until you get back.”

  “You have your boy to look after,” Dalton replied cynically, still bent out of shape at how the sheriff had duped Susanna. “This is my shift. I’ll fill Pat in with all the information when I’m relieved.”

  Albert shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll just gather Nate up from inside and we’ll head on down to the Silky Hen. I don’t mind having a bite myself.”

  Now that Julia was taken care of for a while, Susanna intended to complete her last task quickly and then lose herself in the new bookstore. She entered the laundry house and tapped the bell.

  Giggling came from the back room. An instant later, Lan raced into the counter area, a long piece of ribbon trailing behind her from one hand. When Tap Ling’s young daughter saw Susanna, a smile curled her lips and she sprinted around the counter and hopped into her arms.

  Her mother, Bao, was next to appear from the back room, her face a glossy pink. She stopped short when she saw Susanna standing there with Lan in her arms.

  “Oh, Miss Robin-son, you surprise me!” She laughed and gave her daughter an I-will-deal-with-you-later look. Lan wiggled out of Susanna’s embrace and dashed off once again into the back room.

  “I hope she did not get you dirty,” Bao said, looking over Susanna’s dress. “That child keep me running.”

  “No, no, she’s fine. I love that she’s so comfortable with me. How’re you? Are you keeping up? I’m sure everyone and their mother wants to have their things washed.”

  Bao fanned her face. The petite woman only came to Susanna’s shoulder and her arms and wrists were as thin as a child’s. “Yes. But Mr. Ling work hard.”

  Susanna knew that well. She also knew Bao worked just as hard by her husband’s side. For the last four months, they’d been in the process of trying to bring the rest of Bao’s family over from China. “What is the news on your sister and mother? Will they be arriving anytime soon?”

  The happy expression slid off Bao’s face. She glanced away, clearly upset.

  “What? Has something happened?”

  Bao walked to the front door and looked out as if checking to see that the coast was clear and they wouldn’t be interrupted. “I no want anyone to hear,” she said softly. Bao’s regular speech was quite soft already so Susanna had to bend forward to hear what she was trying to say. “New law. Say no more Chinese.”

  “What? I haven’t heard of this.”

  At Susanna’s outburst Bao grasped Susanna’s wrists and pulled her close, shushing her. “We not want more people to know. Law pass, say no more immigration from China. People who come after 1880 get sent home.”

  Fear streaked up Susanna’s spine. Tap Ling had been in town longer than Susanna, so he was in no danger of being deported, but Bao and Lan had made the voyage last year to reunite with Mr. Ling.

  “Oh, Bao! I’m so sorry about your family not being able to come—but more, I don’t want anything to happen to you, or little Lan.”

  The woman bowed her head, dejected.

  “It’s not right! Maybe Albert can—”

  “No! Promise you not speak of this to anyone. I am sad about family, but more, we do not wish to draw attention to us in any way. We work, eat, and stay out of sight. I don’t want family split up.”

  Susanna took her friend’s work-roughened hands between her palms. The strong lye had chafed them so much they were almost raw. “I understand. Your secret is safe with me. How horrible to live your life worried about deportation. I just don’t understand people, I really don’t.”

  Tap Ling came out of the back room, his hands filled with the laundry she’d dropped off Saturday morning. The items were pressed and folded in perfect squares. “Miss Robin-son, hello. Lan say her friend Miss Robin-son is here for her things.”

  Susanna chanced a quick look at Bao. “Yes, thank you.” She went over and retrieved the heavy stack of bedding and towels as Mr. Ling gave a small bow and hurried away.

  “You want help?” Bao asked. “That heavy.”

  Susanna shook her head. “No, I can get this.” She gave her friend a long look. “Try not to worry, Bao. People love you. Things will work out.” But as Susanna left and headed straight to Dr. Thorn’s, she wondered if she was trying to convince Bao or herself. Her thoughts strayed to Albert, and the danger he’d perceived last night, and now this trouble for the Lings. Seemed she wasn’t the only one in Logan Meadows who had problems—and deadly ones at that.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Wanting to get the move over with before the railroad men showed up and demanded all his time, Albert borrowed Win’s buckboard from the livery and pulled it around the back of the sheriff’s office where loading the wagon would be easier. He and Nate emptied as much of the smaller stuff as they could without help, then went and fetched Win to help load the sideboard, the only substantial piece of furniture Albert owned. The bed and dresser stayed with the apartment and was owned by the town for whoever held the sheriff’s job. The last to go into the wagon were Floria’s trunks. A burning curiosity needled Albert’s mind, but not enough to move him to open that can of worms yet.

  With everything in the wagon, Albert lifted Nate up onto the high seat, then climbed up after him. Gathering the wide leather reins, he pulled the team around to return to the alley road the way they’d come, then hit Main Street. “How do you like the town so far, Nate? Is it what you were expecting?”

  The furrowed brow Albert was coming to know relaxed. Nate looked up into Albert’s face. “Fine.”

  The boy didn�
��t say much. Most of the time they sat in companionable silence, which didn’t seem to bother Nate at all.

  “I think we should’a stayed there. I liked lookin’ out at the road.”

  “That may be, but above a jail and next to a saloon is no place for a boy to live. The new house has a family with children across the street. That’ll suit you better.”

  “I don’t want to play with no kids. I want to stay with you.”

  A surge of emotion squeezed Albert’s throat. It stood to reason. He’d just lost his mother and probably thought he’d lose his pa next. Albert glanced down at the brown hair combed to the side and the boots that didn’t yet reach the wagon floor. His son was a handsome lad, one he wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world.

  “Didn’t you have fun with Sarah yesterday? And Markus? They seem like nice children.”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. An echo reverberated when the wheels of the wagon hit the small bridge over Shady Creek. Nate’s face lit up like Christmas. “I’d sure like ta go froggin’. More than anythin’.”

  Albert hid his smile. “I feel the same. We’ll get to that just as soon as everything settles down in a few days. I still have business with the bank and train, but after that, we’ll spend a day, or two, rounding up as many frogs as you want.” Albert made a pointed decision not to look to the right, up the road to Susanna’s small, three-room place.

  “And fry ’em up in egg and corn batter?”

  Albert had to laugh at that, surprised he’d remembered. “Yes, exactly that.”

  That got the boy’s attention. “I can’t wait. Ma hardly ever let me go froggin’. And she never tried herself. You will, though, right, Pa? You’ll try to catch some frogs, too?”

  “I will, son. As a matter of fact, I’m looking forward to it.”

  After crossing the bridge, it was only a short distance to Maude’s rental house opposite Brenna and Greg Hutton’s. He pulled the horses to a halt and set the brake. He knew their neighbors were home because he could hear a few voices coming from within. Still, he didn’t feel inclined to knock on their door. People were still judging him. And why not? They loved Susanna, and were loyal to her, and he was glad about that. She’d need all the support she could get. Never before had he felt such censure in Logan Meadows, but he knew he had it coming. Things would ease up in time.

  He climbed off the wagon, but before he could reach up to help Nate, the boy had crawled over the seat and jumped out the back into the dirt. Albert stifled his reaction to scold him, and tell him not to do that anymore. They’d get used to each other soon enough. May as well let the boy ease into it or else he’d have him bucking the reins from the get-go.

  Albert looked at their new home from the street. “Well, what do you think? Can you be happy here?”

  “It’s yellow.”

  Albert almost chuckled. “It is. Anything wrong with that?”

  “Yellow’s a girl color.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says Becky Cook. She has yellow dresses, ribbons, and dolls.”

  “Who’s Becky Cook?”

  “My friend. We play every day.”

  “I see.” Not anymore, poor little guy. “I can live with yellow if you can, even if it is a girl’s color.” Albert went to the tailgate and dropped it down. He muscled the first trunk into his arms and carried it to the front porch. Taking the key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Greg had lived here so recently, the house hadn’t had a chance to get musty.

  His new life. Without Susanna. He never thought it would come to this.

  Nate scampered in, darted past him, and ran into the kitchen. Instantly he was back, looking into both bedrooms. “Where’s the toilet room?”

  Floria was sure to have had one of those pull-flush toilets in her house that he’d heard so much about. Some folks around here were thinking along those lines as well. “Outhouse ’round back.”

  When the boy’s eyes lit up, Albert laughed again. “You like that?”

  “Sure. Lots of lizards.”

  Nate stilled in the middle of the living room, his gaze glued to the watercolor portrait of a staunch-looking woman hanging over a brown corduroy couch. Her dark, beady eyes accented her narrow face. Her scowl would scare any little boy and perhaps some men as well.

  Nate backed up until his legs touched the rectangular maple coffee table in the center of the room. Albert walked past and lifted the painting off its hook, leaving a dark square outline on the wall where the green wallpaper hadn’t faded. “This can go under my bed for now.”

  When Albert returned, his son was still where he’d left him, round eyed, and smile gone. “She looks like mama. Can we go to the train now?”

  Albert didn’t see the resemblance at all, but that didn’t mean Nate hadn’t connected with something in the woman’s expression. Albert remembered back to his childhood, when he was a boy and his favorite uncle had unexpectedly died from influenza. The priest had advised his mother to be sure her small boys spent some time viewing the body before the burial. Give them time to come to terms with the reality of losing their uncle. It was healing, and showed them that death was something real. After which, they wouldn’t misunderstand, or think that their beloved uncle was just away and might return.

  Nate hadn’t had that opportunity. The last he’d been with his mother she was alive and well. No wonder he was so confused. It was time for the difficult conversation Albert had been dreading.

  “Nate, have you ever had an animal that died?”

  Nate’s chin dipped down, and he avoided looking into his father’s eyes. Perhaps he understood more than Albert thought.

  He nodded. “Oldie Judy.”

  “Oldie Judy?”

  “Mama’s yellow cat. One day a dog took after her and chased her into the street. She was old and could hardly see nothin’ anymore. A wagon ran right over the top of her.”

  Albert sat down on the sofa and pulled his son up next to him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Nate’s lower lip trembled. “Mama and Nana put her in a shoe box lined with leaves from the garden. I held the box while Mama dug a hole next to the rose bushes.” His lips pulled down into a small frown as he recounted the tale. “When the hole was really deep, she put the lid on and set the box in the ground. We all helped put the dirt on top and Mama and Nana cried.”

  Nate’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “I see.” Shame for not being there for his son when he needed support pricked at Albert’s conscience.

  Nate shrugged.

  “Then you know that Oldie Judy was dead, and she was never coming back, right? That’s why your mother put her body in the box, so it could turn back to . . .” Maybe Nate didn’t need quite that much information.

  Nate nodded even though Albert hadn’t finished the sentence.

  “Well, it’s the same with your mama. Yesterday in the cemetery, her body was in the casket that was lowered into the ground, but her soul is now in heaven, with Oldie Judy. I’m sure she’s sitting somewhere in the sunshine with her cat asleep on her lap.” He wasn’t sure if animals went to heaven, but right now Nate needed something he could understand.

  Nate gazed up at him listening. “And she’s petting her warm fur?”

  Albert nodded. “I believe so.” He’d not been gifted with the strong virtue of faith like his mother had, but he did believe in the hereafter and heaven and hell. He attended church and said prayers now and then, even if it was just a glance up to the Almighty from the back of his horse. He had no experience speaking about God, especially with a son he’d just met. One who was grieving for a mother he’d just lost. “So then you understand that once her soul is up in heaven with God and Oldie Judy, it can’t ever come back down to earth. You won’t see her again until you die, and go to heaven, too.”

  Nate was avoiding his gaze once more. Albert wanted to be sure his son had caught the jist of the conversation, without belaboring the fact. “Right, Nate? Yo
u understand?”

  He nodded. “Then I can pet Oldie Judy, too, even though she’s dead.”

  Warmth flushed Albert’s face as he gazed at the small person huddled by his side. “Well, not actually, son. In heaven she’ll be alive. Here her body is . . .”

  Nate lifted his face to Albert’s. “I understand, Pa,” he said, patting Albert’s leg. His confused expression said perhaps he’d made matters worse.

  Albert sucked in a deep breath for having conquered the difficult topic as best he could. Nate understood well enough for now. He wouldn’t be talking about the train, and getting his mother out, any longer.

  A rapping on the doorjamb drew Albert’s gaze from Nate’s face to the open front door. Greg Hutton, the schoolmaster of Logan Meadows, stood on the porch—one that had been his just a few days before.

  “Are you renting the place, Albert?”

  Albert couldn’t tell if that was a smile or not. He hadn’t seen Greg since the cemetery, and knew he was most likely full of questions. “We are.”

  Nate stood, the sadness on his face replaced with curiosity.

  Greg gave Nate a hospitable smile. “Well, welcome to our street. Can I give you a hand with the things in the wagon?”

  Again, a surge of emotion moved Albert. He’d felt he was being judged by most everyone he saw. So far, most had treated him fairly.

  “I can use a hand.” He turned to Nate. “You stay out of trouble while we unload the wagon.” It felt so natural, speaking with his son, as if he’d known him all his life.

  Once back out on the road, Greg stopped him with a touch to his arm. “I’m sorry, Albert. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

  Albert wasn’t sure of his meaning. The end of his and Susanna’s relationship, or the death of his wife? It was a strange situation he was in. He decided he could live not actually knowing for sure. “I appreciate that, Greg. I’m just thankful to find this house empty and ready to be occupied. I’m taking it one day at a time.”