Song of My Heart

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Thad nodded, even though his stomach churned. “Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Roscoe Hanaman chuckled. “Miriam won’t allow me to miss a single performance. These shows are the best part of her week, she says.” He bumped Thad’s arm with his elbow, winking. “Almost makes me want to take up singing, so I can be the best part of her week.”

  “Oh, Roscoe, you silly goose!” Mrs. Hanaman slapped playfully at her husband’s wrist. The two of them laughed merrily.

  Miriam shifted to visit with the person on her left, and Roscoe leaned closer to Thad. He whispered, “What more have you turned up since we spoke last?”

  Thad grimaced. He had little new to report in revealing the instigator, but he shared what he’d discovered. “Somebody’s got quite an operation out there. The cave went a lot deeper than I expected. Three different chambers, each containing a good-sized still. I found at least thirty jugs, already full, in the middle chamber, an’ nearly a dozen empty barrels. I reckon whoever set it all up is getting quite an output.” He shook his head, frustration rising to pinch his chest. “But I couldn’t find a thing to help me identify our bootlegger.”

  Roscoe frowned. “But the man’s got to go out and check his stills every day, doesn’t he? Why haven’t you spotted him?”

  Thad gritted his teeth, holding back a defensive retort. How could he sit beside that cave entrance all day and still be on duty in town? He forced an affable tone. “I’m out there as much as I can be without making the townsfolk wonder why I’m not on duty.”

  “Hmm.” Roscoe pooched his lips, making his mustache twitch. “Maybe we should hire someone to camp near the cave and watch the area.”

  Thad quirked one eyebrow. “You want me to post somebody out there? I’d have to tell them why they were watching . . . and I thought you wanted this to be our little secret.”

  Hanaman sighed. “You’re right. I guess you’ll just have to go out more often.”

  Before Thad could reply, a flurry of movement caught his eye—Sadie coming up the middle aisle in her familiar dress, her hair cascading over her shoulders in a shimmering curtain. As one, the audience rose and broke into applause. Thad stood, but his shaking hands refused to connect with each other. How quickly she’d won their admiration. But they hadn’t heard her new repertoire yet.

  When Sadie stepped onto the stage, folks settled back into their seats to a chorus of creaking metal joints and excited whispers. They aimed their faces straight ahead, and their voices fell silent. Sadie nodded to the pianist—her signal to begin. She opened the program with a hymn, then moved into a ballad. Three more hymns, another ballad. Thad sat tense, hardly daring to breathe or blink, waiting for the song he’d overheard to find its way into the program. But after an hour, she sang what had become her traditional closing number—“Eternal Father, Strong to Save”—and by the time she’d finished to rousing applause, Thad wondered if he’d imagined her practicing an unseemly selection.

  Sadie made her way up the center aisle, smiling, shaking hands, bobbing her head in silent appreciation, then disappeared behind the double doors. Thad started after her, but Roscoe caught his arm and drew him to the corner to discuss the cave and the stills. By the time he and the mayor finished talking, it was too late to seek out Sadie. So he decided to come back Saturday night and listen. Maybe she’d insert the new songs into Saturday’s performance.

  Saturday dragged longer than any day in Thad’s memory. He spent a significant portion of it watching the break in the trees that led to the cave. But to no avail. The bootlegger kept himself hidden. When the evening finally arrived, Thad took his seat, once again so tense his leg muscles quivered in apprehension. As she had on Friday, Sadie sang hymns and ballads—a different collection than the night before, but nothing of a questionable nature. By the close of Saturday night’s show, his confusion had reached unreasonable heights.

  He scuffed his way to his office, his thoughts reeling. When he’d taken her to supper, Sadie had told him she needed to practice for “next week’s performance.” He’d clearly heard her singing a song one might hear in a saloon or from the lobby of a house of ill repute. If the song wasn’t a part of her opera house repertoire, then why did she need to learn it?

  “Ack! Help! Help!”

  The hysterical screech roused Sadie from a sound sleep before dawn on Sunday morning. She leaped out of bed and raced into the shadowy hallway, her nightgown tangling around her ankles. Miss Melva stumbled out of her bedroom and joined Sadie.

  “Help!” The cry came again.

  “That’s Sister!” Miss Melva hollered, her face white. She looped elbows with Sadie and together they thundered down the stairs and around the corner into the mercantile, nearly colliding with Miss Shelva, who stood just inside the door leading into the merchandise area.

  Only muted light filtered through the plate-glass windows, but even with the room cast in gray shadows, Sadie spotted the source of Miss Shelva’s distress. The place was a shambles! The twins clung to each other, blubbering.

  Sadie pushed past the sisters and ran barefooted out the front door, which stood ajar, and up the boardwalk to the sheriff’s office. The door was locked, so she pounded her fist on the solid wood while peering through the glass. Moments later, Thad careened from the back half of the office, his shirttails flapping.

  He threw open the door. “What’re you doing out here in your nightclothes?”

  Only then did Sadie remember her state of undress. Heat seared her face, but she couldn’t allow embarrassment to keep her from her task. Clutching fistfuls of fabric at her throat with one hand, she caught Thad’s sleeve with the other and gasped, “The mercantile’s been robbed!”

  Thad’s eyebrows flew high. Without another word, he pounded behind her, his bootheels an echoing intrusion in the morning’s calm. Sadie left Thad listening to Miss Melva and Miss Shelva and darted upstairs to put on a dress and twist her hair into a simple braid before going back to the mercantile. By then, the sun had crept high enough to illuminate the scene, and Sadie couldn’t hold back a gasp when she saw the damage in full light.

  The twins and Thad stood at the counter, surveying the mess, and Sadie crossed directly to her employers. She hugged first Miss Melva, then Miss Shelva. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

  Thad sent a stern look in her direction. “Miss Melva an’ Miss Shelva say they didn’t hear a thing last night. But something like this”—he swept his hand, indicating the tumble of cans, strewn cloth bolts, and overturned crates—“had to have made a heap of noise. Did you hear anybody down here last night?”

  Sadie bit down on her lower lip and shook her head. Guilt assailed her. She’d gone to bed late, having stayed up to pen a lengthy letter to Mama and the children, then had put her pillow over her ears to muffle the loud snore emanating from one of the twins’ bedrooms. The pillow must have blocked the sounds made by the thieves. “I’m sorry. But no, I didn’t hear anything, either.”

  “Why would somebody wanna rob us?” Miss Melva’s gray hair stood out around her head like a lion’s mane. Her faded eyes flooded with tears. “We give credit to anybody who asks. No need to steal from us.”

  “No need at all,” Miss Melva added.

  Miss Shelva drew in a shuddering breath. “Well, Sister, reckon we won’t be attendin’ Sunday services this mornin’. We gotta get this place in order by tomorrow. Else customers won’t be able to find a thing.” With sniffles and disheartened sighs, the pair shuffled into the mess and began picking up.

  Sadie looked into Thad’s grim face. “Could you ride out and let Mr. Baxter know what’s happened? I think Miss Melva and Miss Shelva would appreciate his support.”

  Thad muttered, “Can’t imagine him being much help, but yes, I’ll go get him.” He high-stepped over several discarded cans and gave each of the Baxter twins a hug, promising to return soon. Then he strode toward the door. Just before leaving, he paused and looked back at Sadie. Her heart caught, hoping for a word of c
omfort or a sweet wink—anything. But he merely stared at her with an odd expression on his face for the space of several seconds, then clomped out without a word.

  Sid latched the gate on the freight wagon Monday morning and turned to face Sadie. “Well, that’s that. Guess I’m ready.” He tried not to frown when he looked at her. She appeared even thinner than she had a week ago. And sadder. He wished he had time to stay and talk, the way she’d asked. She said she had something important to talk to him about, but it would have to wait until he returned from his trip. Asa had promised him a daylong break in between deliveries when he got back. A full day of no work would be nice. And it’d give him time to take Sadie to supper, for her to share whatever secret she carried.

  She linked her hands behind her back, peering at him with dark-rimmed eyes while the wind billowed her skirt and tossed one loose strand of hair across her cheek. “I wish you didn’t have to go. It’s kind of frightening right now, knowing somebody broke into the mercantile and caused such destruction.”

  Sid had heard about the break-in as soon as he’d returned to town yesterday evening, but he could make little sense of the situation. When somebody broke into a place, they usually stole something. But the Baxters insisted nothing was missing, so someone had merely ransacked the mercantile. He gave Sadie’s shoulder a squeeze. “Now, you heard what the sheriff said. Probably some kids playing a mean prank. No need to be afraid.”

  “I suppose.” She heaved a sigh, then looked at him again, a weak smile curving her lips. “So . . . are you heading to Abilene again?”

  “Beloit this time, but it’ll be just as many days as last week.”

  How he hated being gone more days than not. But Asa had doubled his salary. He was already looking at moving into a nicer house—one with a real front porch and maybe a carriage shed out back so he could buy a buggy and a horse. Thinking of the things he’d be able to provide for Sadie made the separation bearable.

  She sighed. “I’ll miss you.”

  The simple statement made him smile. If they weren’t out in the open where anyone passing on the boardwalk would see, he’d snatch her close in a hug. Maybe even give her a kiss. But he couldn’t do something so brazen in the middle of the street. So he teased, “Aw, you’ll just miss the little goodies I leave for you on the porch.”

  She ducked her head, showing him the neat part in her hair.

  “But don’t worry. When I get back, I’ll have somethin’ special for you to make up for it.” He’d heard Beloit had a store that sold jewelry and pretty gewgaws. He might not have the courage to buy Sadie an engagement ring or brooch just yet, but surely she’d appreciate a pretty china figurine or painted hair receiver—something more lasting than the little things he’d picked up for her thus far.

  She shook her head, one loose strand of hair bouncing along her cheek. “You don’t have to buy me anything, Sid. Just be safe and . . . and hurry back, all right?”

  His heart caught. It was the kind of thing a wife would say when her husband took off on a trip. His arms itched. Watchful eyes or not, he should pull her close. But she was already stepping up on the boardwalk, out of reach. “Will do,” he said, his throat tight. He climbed into the seat and took up the reins. “Bye, Sadie.”

  She waved, and he gave the reins a flick. The horses strained against the rigging, and the wagon rolled down Main Street. One wheel jounced over a rock, and Sid heard a clink. He glanced into the bed, frowning. The crates were all stamped “Navy Beans,” but beans didn’t clink. Should he stop and pry open the crates to find out what made the noise?

  “Don’t be foolish,” he berated himself. The rock probably bounced up under the wagon and hit a piece of metal. He faced forward and clicked his teeth on his tongue. “Get up there, now,” he commanded Rudy and Hec. The horses obediently broke into a gentle trot.

  He ought to reach Brittsville by noon or shortly after. The town didn’t have a café, but the stationmaster’s daughter was a good cook. If a stage was due in at some point during the day, she’d have something simmering on the stove, and he’d buy lunch from her. The last time he’d been in Brittsville, he’d only had to pay twenty-five cents for a big bowl of beans with chunks of bacon, biscuits, and so much coffee he sloshed when he left. A bargain. And he’d thoroughly enjoyed chatting with the comely young woman. If he hadn’t already given his heart to Sadie, he might even consider taking up with her.

  Even Sadie had expressed dismay when she’d packed his basket of supplies for this trip. “A man needs more than dried beef, cheese, and crackers, Sid,” she’d said, shaking her head. “Why not ask Cora to make some decent sandwiches for you? Or maybe you could take one of her fruit pies.” Then she’d sighed and added, “If I had a house with a kitchen, I’d bake a batch of corn bread or cook up a pot of stew you could take and reheat on the trail.”

  In the end, he’d allowed her to tuck several strings of licorice and a bag of gumdrops into the basket so he’d have a sweet treat. His heart had thrilled at her desire to fix something special for him. Surely that meant she was starting to look at him differently. And as soon as he had a nice house—including a kitchen with a real built-in cupboard and the best stove he could buy—he’d come right out and ask her to be his wife.

  Caught up in his thoughts of his future with Sadie, he gave a start when the horses both lifted their noses and snorted. He squinted ahead against the bright morning sun and spotted a horse and rider, the horse’s rump hidden by thick brush. As Sid approached, the rider urged the horse onto the road, holding up his hand. With the sun in his eyes, Sid didn’t recognize the man at first, but when he called out, Sid knew the voice. He grunted in aggravation. Couldn’t he get away from Goldtree’s sheriff?

  Sid set the brake but kept his hand on the wooden shaft. “What’re you doin’ out here, McKane?”

  “Makin’ my rounds,” the man replied in a friendly manner.

  Sid looked around. Not a farmhouse in sight. Why did the sheriff need to make rounds out here where nobody lived? He started to ask, but he caught the man peering into the back of the wagon.

  McKane leaned over and patted the wooden top on one crate. “You headin’ out on another delivery?”

  Sid nodded.

  “Baxter’s been keeping you busy lately. Where to this time?”

  Sid didn’t see how his job as drayman was any of the sheriff’s business, but he answered anyway. “Beloit.”

  McKane grabbed the brim of his hat and shifted it around a bit, as if he was scratching his head. “Isn’t that east of here?”

  “Yep. But the best roads are from Goldtree to Brittsville, then Brittsville to Beloit. A little longer, but easier on the horses.” Sid had no idea why he bothered with such a lengthy explanation, but for reasons he couldn’t explain he suddenly felt uneasy in the lawman’s presence. “Takin’ a load of beans to the liveryman over in Beloit.”

  McKane’s eyebrows shot up. “Beans? To a liveryman?” He laughed, and his horse shied at the sound. Giving the big animal a pat on the neck, he added, “Seems like an odd thing for a liveryman to request.”

  Sid hadn’t thought much about it when Asa told him where to take the crates, but now that he’d said it out loud, it did sound strange. He shrugged. “I just do what I’m told.”

  For long seconds, McKane stared into Sid’s face, as if searching for something under Sid’s skin. Sid got twitchy beneath the man’s intense scrutiny. He wanted to get going.

  Finally, McKane smiled. “Well, reckon I better send you on. Beloit’s a good distance. Have a safe trip, Sid.” He backed the horse away from the wagon and touched the brim of his hat before trotting his horse into the bushes again.

  Sid released the brake and chirped to the horses. As the wagon rolled onward, he glanced over his shoulder and caught the sheriff watching after him. He experienced a little chill of unrest. The sheriff was up to something. But what?

  27

  Thad watched the freight wagon roll over a gentle rise, disco
unting Sid Wagner as a suspect. When he’d seen the neatly stacked crates in the back of the wagon, he’d wondered if Sid might be coming to the cave to fill those crates with jugs of beer. But no hollow thud sounded when he’d patted the crate—it was already full. Of beans. For the liveryman in Beloit.

  Thad chuckled. It seemed a little strange, but who knew why a man who rented out wagons for a living wanted a couple dozen crates of beans. Maybe he ran a boardinghouse, too, and needed to feed his boarders. Maybe he just liked beans. Either way, Sid hadn’t appeared to be interested in slowing that wagon until Thad stopped him, so he probably wasn’t heading to the cave.

  Sweat trickled down Thad’s temple, and he reached for the water canteen on the back of the saddle. He guzzled a drink, grateful for the cool water on his parched throat. It promised to be a hot day—typical of late July in Kansas. But he intended to spend time at this post until he’d finally caught somebody heading to that makeshift underground brewery. He’d rather be in town than on this roadside, walking the streets instead of straddling this horse. It was quiet out here—lonely. He missed being able to tip his hat to the ladies, toss an errant ball back to a group of rowdy youngsters, and stop by the mercantile for a handful of jelly beans and bit of conversation with Miss Sadie.

  His heart twisted. On Sunday, they’d had to cancel their picnic after the disaster in the mercantile. Hadn’t seemed right for her to leave when the Baxters needed her help cleaning up. But it had taken his only chance to talk to her about the song she’d been singing. He felt sneaky, knowing about it without her awareness. The sooner he could talk to her, the better.

  A rustle caught his attention. Somebody was coming. But not along the road—through the brush. The horse nickered, and Thad stroked the animal’s neck, whispering, “Hush now.” Thad’s pulse tripped into double beats. He slid from the saddle, catching the horse’s reins and wrapping them loosely around the closest sapling. The horse rolled his eyes, tossing his head.