A second, equally shrill voice exploded from inside the mercantile. “Melva, what’s all this caterwaulin’?” Another woman—tall, thin, with snow-white hair pulled into a bun—charged out onto the boardwalk to stand beside the one accusing Thad of thievery.
Thad blinked several times—sun must be in his eyes, making him see things—but when he looked again, he still saw double. “There are two of you.” He finally noticed the one hollering at him wore a brown dress, while the other wore gray. But in every other way—right down to their matching scowls—they were identical.
The gray-dressed woman snorted. “Yes, there’s two of us. An’ I can tell you right now she’s the hysterical one.” She whirled on her sister. “I gave the young man permission to borrow Asa’s wheelbarrow, Sister. The fella was a-tryin’ to tote a trunk just usin’ his arms! Good way to hurt hisself.” Her glance zipped to the wheelbarrow. “An’ he’s brung it back, just like he promised.” She waved toward the corner. “Go on now, young man, an’ ignore Melva.” She grabbed her sister’s elbow and escorted her back inside. Their combined voices continued to rail, but at least they were yelling at each other instead of at him.
Thad scuttled between the buildings, eager to escape the curious gawks of his new neighbors. What a way to introduce himself to the town! He turned the wheelbarrow upside down on the flattened grass, exactly where he’d found it. Then, instead of returning to the street, he jogged behind the buildings and made his way back to his new home.
He paused for a moment before letting himself inside. The building’s position at the intersection of the town’s two main streets made it a perfect spot for a sheriff’s office. He’d be close to all of the businesses if someone needed him to come in a hurry—he suspected the woman named Melva might demand more than her fair share of attention—and he could easily oversee much of the town just by standing on the boardwalk. Not that he intended to spend his time standing still. He had an illegal operation to uncover and bring to an end.
But first, he should get settled and cleaned up so he didn’t miss his meeting with Mr. Hanaman and the town council members.
Inside, he unlatched the shutters on the north wall and folded them back. Lacy spider webs, dotted with dead bugs, decorated the corners of the windows. Grimacing, he grabbed up a rag from the pile in the corner and slapped at the sticky strings. The stirred dust made him sneeze so he abandoned the task until he could locate a bucket for water.
With the shutters open, weak shafts of waning sunlight slanted across the floor, revealing a bureau with a missing drawer, a scarred table and two chairs—one of which needed its legs tightened—and a crate containing a dented coffeepot, three mismatched tin cups, four spoons, two forks, and a lantern with a cracked but usable globe. Thad thanked the Lord for the provisions. He’d use everything, and gladly.
His nose continued to tickle, so he opened both the front and back doors to clear out the musty smell. The cross breeze didn’t carry any of the accumulated dust out, though—he needed a broom. The mercantile surely sold them, but he didn’t care to encounter Melva and her matching sister again. “ ’Least not ’til after I’ve put a good meal in my belly,” he muttered to the empty room. His stomach rumbled in response to his statement.
He looked toward the front door, remembering Mr. Hanaman had said he could charge his meals. His stomach growled again, pinching with hunger. Breakfast had been only cold biscuits and some dried beef far too long ago. “Yep, a hot supper’ll make me feel a heap better.” Before he entered the café, though, he should clean up. Then he’d be ready for the meeting.
Fresh shirts and trousers waited in his carpetbag, but where could he change? He could close the shutters again, but the front window had no curtains. After a moment’s thought, he took one of the discarded blankets outside and shook it good, dislodging enough dust for the Almighty to build a full-sized man. By wedging the corners of the blanket into cracks between the wide wooden slats that formed the walls, he created a triangular-shaped makeshift dressing room. Before changing, however, he visited the backyard pump and gave his face and hands a thorough wash.
Clean and freshly clothed, Thad felt ready to head to the café and order a meal. He hoped Mercantile Melva wouldn’t come after him with a frying pan. Thad made use of his wide stride and hurried on past the mercantile windows. But only because he was hungry.
Sadie took hold of the stage driver’s hand and allowed him to assist her from the coach. For a moment, she wavered, her legs reluctant to hold her upright. The stage ride had been short—only three hours from the train depot in Clay Centre to the town of Macyville—but the ride had jounced her so badly, every muscle in her body ached from straining to hold her position on the wooden seat. She drew in several deep drafts of the clear air, relieved that the stilled wheels were no longer stirring up clouds of dust.
“Thank you, sir.” Revived, she removed her hand from the driver’s steadying grasp and reached to straighten her hat, pulled loose from its moorings by the jolting ride.
The driver tipped his sweat-stained hat and offered a wide smile. “You’re welcome, miss. Lemme get yer bags.” He clambered onto the stage’s flat top, grunting a bit with the effort of hoisting himself up the iron bars serving as a ladder. “You say you got someone comin’ fer ya here? Wouldn’t wanna leave ya stranded, but I got a schedule to keep.”
Even though she’d only met the man a few hours earlier, he was the only person she knew in Kansas, and she wasn’t eager to see him leave. “My cousin is to retrieve me.” Sadie reached to pluck her carpetbag from the man’s hand. She hoped he wouldn’t expect her to take her trunks in the same manner. They’d certainly land on her head and squash her flat. She was fairly strong—for a girl—but the trunks were heavy.
In addition to all of Sadie’s wardrobe, Mama had insisted on sending two hand-pieced quilts, framed photographs of the family, as well as some other keepsakes, all intentioned to stave off homesickness. Sadie’s stomach had ached the entire journey. Maybe setting her things from home around her in her new place would eliminate the aching loneliness for her family.
Thoughts of family led her to Sid. Where was he? He’d promised to be here. Placing her hand above her eyes—the little brim of her favorite flowered hat did little to protect her face from the bright sun—she scanned the street. No sign of her cousin.
“Heave ho!”
Sadie squealed and jumped back as the stagecoach driver shoved one of her trunks over the edge and let it fall to the ground. It landed with a resounding thud, but to Sadie’s relief it didn’t pop open. She hoped the things inside hadn’t been damaged. The man poised to give the second trunk the same treatment.
“Driver! Wait up!” The authoritative call stilled the driver’s hands.
Sadie spun at the familiar voice, relief and joy igniting in her breast. Her cousin drove a buckboard down the middle of the street. She smiled at Sid’s lazy pose, elbows propped on knees and hands curled loosely around trailing reins. Apparently Kansas hadn’t changed him. Even as a child, Sid had always been easygoing—it was one of the things Sadie liked best about him.
Sid drew his wagon alongside the stagecoach. He set the brake and hopped over the seat into the bed. “Hand that to me, mister, and be careful this time. Might be breakables in them trunks, y’know.” Although Sid was half the driver’s age, the man followed his directions without hesitation.
To Sadie’s relief, the second trunk passed safely from hands to hands and Sid set it in the wagon’s bed with a gentle plop. Then he leaped over the wagon’s low side and scooped up the trunk the driver had dropped. He sent the man an innocent look. “I reckon the stage line’ll be accountable for damaged goods if Miss Wagner discovers somethin’ broke inside o’ here?”
The man scratched his grizzled chin. “Dunno. Nobody ever complained afore.”
Sid raised one eyebrow. “Huh. That so?” He marched to the rear of the wagon and slid the trunk into the open bed. He placed her carpetbag next to i
t, as carefully as someone might lay a baby in a cradle. Then, her belongings secure, he held out his arms and offered Sadie a smile. “You made it!”
Sadie dashed into his welcoming hug. “I made it!” She pulled back, giggling. “And I probably smell musty.”
Sid grinned, his matching dimples sneaking out of hiding. “No worse’n ol’ Rudy here.” He gave the horse standing within the traces a light smack on the rump.
Sadie delivered a playful punch on his arm, the way she’d done dozens of times when they were children. She and Sid, being close in age, had always enjoyed an easy relationship, more like brother and sister than cousins. Not that they really were cousins by blood. But all of Papa’s family had accepted her as readily as Papa had.
The stagecoach driver climbed back into his seat and raised the reins. Before he could slap them down, Sid called in a friendly tone, “I’ll be sendin’ a telegram to the line’s main office if any of Miss Wagner’s belongings were damaged.” The driver snorted and brought down the reins. The coach jolted forward and rolled down the street, dust billowing behind it once again.
After waving her hand in front of her face to clear the dust, Sadie slipped her hand through Sid’s elbow. “I’m eager to begin my new job”—and begin sending money home to Papa and Mama—“but the journey tuckered me more than I thought it would. How can sitting in a train make someone so tired?”
Sid turned her toward the wagon. “I don’t reckon it was the ridin’ that tuckered you as much as the havin’ to say good-bye.” Grasping her waist, he lifted her aboard.
She settled on the far side of the wooden seat, wincing. His comment had been far too truthful. Her heart ached anew.
He swung up beside her and offered another bright grin as he released the brake and flicked the reins. “So . . . your ma didn’t fuss about you comin’ all the way to Kansas? To be honest, I figured Uncle Len an’ Aunt Esther would wanna keep you close to home.”
Sadie sighed. “It wasn’t a matter of want, Sid, but rather of necessity. The folks need the money I can make.” Recalling her good-bye at the train depot in Dalton, unshed tears made her throat hurt. Papa, bedridden, hadn’t been able to see her off, but Mama and all the children had come, even though it was a school day. Sadie would forever remember the image of Mama’s face, smiling through tears. She’d never suffered a more painful farewell. But the job was a blessing, and she would celebrate the opportunity to help her family. “I appreciate you letting us know about it. It’s a real answer to prayer.”
Sid shifted his gaze forward, and Sadie did likewise, taking in the countryside. The landscape reminded her of Indiana, except there were fewer trees. Small hills covered in green grass and decorated by clumps of brush stretched out in both directions. She memorized the picture so she could describe it for her family in a letter. She’d promised to write every week, but she would probably write every day. At least until she felt settled in.
“Won’t deny a bit of selfishness in bringin’ you here,” Sid said. He sounded sheepish.
Sadie sent him a curious look. “Selfish?”
“Well, sure. Me bein’ the only one out here, no family around . . .” His dimpled grin landed on her again, giving her heart a lift. “Good to have my favorite cousin close by.”
Sadie leaned briefly against his shoulder, then sat upright. Turning slightly in the seat, she gave him her full attention. “Tell me about Goldtree. All I know is it has a mercantile where I’m to work as a clerk and an opera house where I might be able to sing.” Eagerness swelled within her. Would she perform once a month? Once a week? Maybe more? For years she’d dreamed of entertaining audiences with song. Now the dream could see fruition. She wriggled on the seat. Couldn’t Sid hurry the horse a bit?
Sid chuckled. “It’s pretty small, far as towns go, but the mayor has hopes of it growin’. The man openin’ the opera house—his name’s Asa Baxter, an’ he’s the one I work for, pickin’ up goods from the railroad an’ deliverin’ things to folks in nearby towns—thinks it’ll bring business to Goldtree. Maybe even new settlers. So he’s hankerin’ to get a good singer on the stage. I told him you were the best.”
Sadie clasped her hands in her lap, delight almost making her giddy. “How often is the opera house open?”
“How often?” Sid fiddled with the brim of his straw hat. “Well, it’s just gettin’ goin’, Sadie. But I reckon now that you’re here, Mr. Baxter’ll be advertisin’ programs on a regular basis. Like I said, he’s eager to bring folks in, an’ the whole town council’s approved it.”
Spinning to face forward again, Sadie braced her hands on her knees and stuck out her chin. “I’ll do my best to please his customers. And I’ll work hard at the mercantile, too. They won’t be sorry they hired me. I promise.”
Sid grinned. “I don’t reckon anybody’ll be sorry you came. I’m thinkin’ this is gonna work out real good for all of us.”
4
Sid slowly pulled back on the reins, drawing Rudy to a halt outside the Baxters’ Mercantile. It wasn’t easy, making Rudy stop with such gentle motions—the old horse responded better to a firm jerk. But he couldn’t jerk on the reins without disturbing Sadie. She dozed against his shoulder, her hat all askew and one strand of sunlight-colored hair falling across her cheek. She’d never looked sweeter.
Holding his right arm, which served as her pillow, as still as possible, he set the brake with his left hand and then reached up to brush her face with his fingertips. Her skin felt as soft as silk, raising a yearning in the center of his chest. He watched her slowly waken. Her eyelashes fluttered and then her mouth opened in an unladylike yawn. As the yawn ended, she sat upright and looked around groggily.
“Oh. It’s dark.”
Sid chuckled at her observation. During the ride, dusk had fallen. With so many trees on the west side of town—rumor had it the founding men had arrived in fall, when the cottonwoods were at their goldest, and had vowed the trees would stay standing for the next generations—it seemed evening fell earlier in Goldtree than in other places.
“It’s only an hour past suppertime,” Sid said, climbing down from the seat and then reaching to help Sadie. “Are you hungry? Cora’s café is right next door, an’ she serves clear up ’til seven-thirty. There’s time to grab a bite.”
Sadie shook her head, the wisp of hair swishing along her cheek. She pushed it behind her ear before Sid could do it for her. “I’m too tired to chew.” She laughed, a soft, rueful sound that made Sid smile in reply. “I think I’d rather get settled, if you don’t mind.”
“Then let’s take you around back and ring the buzzer so the Misses Baxter’ll let us in.”
Sadie sleepily glanced into the back of the wagon. “What about my things?”
“I’ll get ’em. Don’t worry about it.” Sid guided Sadie to the rear of the mercantile, his steps light from having her at his side. He wished he was bold enough to tell her he’d do anything for her. Ever since his pa’s brother had married Sadie’s ma and brought his new wife and stepdaughter to visit, Sid had been fascinated by Sadie. At nine years old, he’d fallen headlong in love at first sight. With hair as shiny and yellow as rays of sunlight bursting from clouds and eyes as blue as a deep lake, she’d been a beautiful little girl.
And she’d grown into the loveliest of ladies.
Sid stopped on the back stoop and gave the brass key a firm twist. It buzzed, alerting the mercantile owners to their presence. Sadie swayed, nearly asleep on her feet. He curved his arm around her waist and she leaned against him, offering a weary smile. He had to squelch the urge to brush a kiss on her forehead. If he kissed her now, he’d probably scare her.
Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, then the curtain shielding the window lifted. Sid raised his hand in a silent hello to one of the Baxter twins—even after three months in the town, he still couldn’t tell them apart. The curtain dropped back into place, the door swung wide, and the woman greeted in a loud, cheerful tone, “Come in, com
e in!”
Sadie drew back, apparently startled by Miss Baxter’s volume. Sid had learned the twins were always loud no matter if they were happy, sad, mad, or indifferent. He suspected poor hearing was the culprit. Sadie would have to get used to their penchant for hollering. He gave her a slight nudge on the back, and she stumbled across the threshold. Sid followed her.
“Miss Baxter, this is—” Sid started.
The woman took hold of Sadie’s hand and gave it a shake. “This must be our new clerk. Sadie Wagner, if I’m rememberin’ correctly,” she bellowed. She towered over Sadie—no woman in town came close to the Baxter twins in height. “You look like you’ve had a rough trip, young lady. I’m thinkin’ we need to fill the washtub for you.”
Sid gulped. He didn’t need Miss Baxter putting pictures in his head. Backing through the open door, he gestured toward the front of the store. “I’ll fetch Sadie’s things. She has a bag and two trunks. Is Mr. Baxter around? I could use his help.”
Miss Baxter shook her head. “Tell you what—just run on down to the corner an’ tap on Sheriff McKane’s door. Remember how he stood up Sunday mornin’ in church an’ vowed he was here to help?” A sly smile curved her thin lips. “Well, he might as well be earnin’ his keep. Heaven knows there ain’t no crime in Goldtree to keep him busy.”
She threw her bony arm across Sadie’s shoulders. “I’ll take this gal on up to her room—first door on the right as you go up the stairs, Sid. Just come on in.”
Sadie sent a panicked look over her shoulder as Miss Baxter ushered her toward the enclosed staircase just inside the door. Sid gave Sadie an encouraging wink before turning on his heel and dashing for the corner building where Thaddeus McKane had set up shop. He puzzled over the mayor’s sudden decision to hire a lawman. As Miss Baxter had said, Goldtree was a sleepy little town, although he’d heard tell it got pretty boisterous when the cattle drives came through. Still, it seemed odd to hire a full-time sheriff when the cowboys didn’t visit but once or twice a year.
Song of My Heart Page 3