Truly Yours Historical Collection December 2014

by Susan Page Davis, Paige Winship Dooly, Connie Stevens

  “I want to extend my condolences again for the loss of your mother.”

  The tears that consumed her earlier threatened again. She pressed her lips together and drew in a tight breath to deny any show of emotion in this public place.

  Another customer entered the store, and Gideon greeted the woman politely. He glanced about the store. “Is your father with you?”

  The mere mention of Papa set her stomach spinning. Fear and grief collided in her chest. Should she tell Gideon her father had up and left her? What kind of explanation could she give? That she was worthless and her father had no use for her? That she was alone and had no idea how she was going to survive? “No, he must have had something else to do.”

  “So where are you folks from, and where are you headed?”

  She wasn’t headed anywhere—now. Harsh truth accosted her, but courtesy required she answer Gideon. “Papa had a farm back in Indiana. But he didn’t like being a farmer.”

  “Indiana, huh? Good farm country there. Why didn’t your pa want to farm?”

  “Work was too hard, I guess. He raised hogs and grew corn, but he said he couldn’t make enough money to keep body and soul together.”

  Gideon nodded like he understood. “Farming isn’t easy, and that’s a fact. Your crop can depend on a lot of things—weather, insects, blight. Anything can turn a harvest sour no matter how hard a man works.”

  Tessa felt heat crawling up her neck. Papa failed to turn a decent profit because he drank more than he worked the fields or cared for the pigs. He’d charged her with the animals’ care and railed at her when the porkers brought a lower than expected price. How could she tell Gideon the embarrassing truth?

  “Has your pa come west to try farming here in Iowa?”

  She didn’t know why Gideon was interested, but she didn’t wish to be rude. “Papa heard some men talking about gold strikes in the Black Hills country. He figured he could get rich if we went there and dug for gold.”

  Gideon’s brows dipped into a V. “A few folks pulled some gold out of there several years back, but not many got rich. There’s been no report of gold strikes up there for a long time. Maybe the man at the land office can give your pa information about farmland hereabouts. Lots of farmers here in Iowa have harvested bountiful crops of corn and wheat, and for the past several years, there’s been a lot of farmers raising porkers and cattle, too. Your pa could do well here.”

  If Papa could’ve stayed away from the bottle long enough to devote time and energy to their farm, they’d still be in Indiana. Maybe Mama would still be alive. Instead he’d decided to chase a harebrained dream of getting rich, while putting Mama through the rigors of traveling to goldfields that were nothing more than a mirage. Tears burned their way to the surface and spilled over. Her throat convulsed when she tried to swallow back the sobs.

  Gideon’s eyes widened, and his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, Tessa. I didn’t mean to—”

  Tessa didn’t wait to hear any more. She ran out the door, mortified at her lack of control in front of Gideon.

  She picked up her skirts and escaped back to the seclusion of the elm tree and dropped down beside the trunk, her chest heaving more from anger at Papa and shame over her tears than from running. At least she didn’t have to admit Papa had abandoned her. If Gideon knew what a worthless person she was, he likely wouldn’t be so kind to her.

  Despite her humiliation, her stomach still complained of its emptiness. She unwrapped the hunk of cheese and broke off a few small bits. It wouldn’t do to eat too much. The cheese and crackers would have to feed her for a few days, at least until she could find employment.

  She nibbled slowly to stretch out her mealtime as long as possible. She closed her eyes and imagined the fragrance of warm yeast bread fresh from the oven and savory roast beef with tender potatoes and carrots. If she played this game of imagination each time she ate a bit of cracker or cheese, her mind might convince her she wasn’t as hungry as she thought.

  The lengthening afternoon shadows indicated there wasn’t much daylight left. She couldn’t impose on Mrs. Dunnigan again. The canopy of branches overhead would be her roof tonight, and the underbrush would serve as her walls.

  Dread washed over her at the prospect of spending the night outside and alone, at the mercy of whomever and whatever might be lurking in the darkness. But if Mama was right, God would spend the night with her.

  three

  Tessa grunted as she pushed Mama’s cabinet between the fat tree trunk and a scraggly juniper. Tangled underbrush snagged her sleeve as she dragged the crate across a patch of thorny weeds. The heavier trunk required all her strength to shove into a position where the shadows of the big tree and the thick juniper and yew bushes concealed it from anyone who happened by.

  Straightening, she scrutinized her hiding place. Anyone milling around the livery at the edge of town was unlikely to see her through the brush. It was the best she could do.

  The descending sun marked the signal for most of the businesses in town to close their doors. Most, but not all. Down the main street at the center of town, the Willow Creek Hotel with its fine brick facade attracted a steady stream of people coming and going.

  Boisterous clamor increased at the saloon. A shudder rippled through her when she imagined the amount of whiskey consumed there each night and its effect on the families of the men who patronized the place.

  Tessa wrapped the remains of her dinner in the store paper. When she opened the door of Mama’s cabinet to tuck her provisions into a safe place, the Bible she’d hugged earlier begged to be picked up. Why, she didn’t know. What could God possibly have to say to her? Still, perhaps reading the same words Mama read might offer comfort.

  She extracted a tattered quilt pieced from flour sack scraps from the trunk and arranged a makeshift pallet under the broad limbs of the elm. She peered around the juniper boughs, searching for signs of snakes then made herself as comfortable as possible and opened the Bible. The waning light fell on the pages of the Psalms. Mama’s favorites were dog-eared and underlined. Extra marks by the verses of Psalm 27 indicated Mama found solace in them.

  With the book positioned to use all the light available, she began to read what her mother found comforting. One verse spoke of hiding her in the time of trouble. Did that mean God would conceal her from prying eyes during the night? She read another verse.

  “Leave me not, neither forsake me, O God of my salvation.”

  Was God aware that she was alone and frightened, hiding in the bushes like some kind of animal? Did He know about the fear knotting her stomach as the noise from the saloon built to a raucous din? In the dim glow of the final ray of light, she held up the book and squinted at the next verse.

  “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.”

  The Bible slipped from her grasp and fell to her lap. Mama always said God kept His promises. If that verse was a promise, it surely wasn’t meant for her. Only people worthy of God’s love received His favor, and Papa always said she “wasn’t worth nothin’.”

  The morning sun fell across the ledger as Gideon added up the last column one more time. He totaled up the net profits and frowned at the number. The grim number remained the same no matter how many times he reworked the figures. Every month since Kilgore bought the Willow Creek Emporium, that number shrank a bit more.

  He blew out a noisy sigh and slammed the journal shut. The bell on the front door jingled, and Gideon looked up to see the preacher entering the store. “Hello, Pastor Witherspoon. What can I get for you today?”

  “Morning, Gideon.” The silver-headed pastor handed Gideon a scrap of paper. “Here’s my wife’s list. How’s business?”

  “Well, Pastor, things are getting a little tighter all the time.”

  Fatherly concern deepened the lines around the preacher’s eyes. “That a fact? Does this have anything to do with Henry Kilgore taking over the Emporium?”

  Gideon pulled two cans
of applesauce from the shelf and set them on the counter before pausing to look at the preacher. “I know every man has a right to make a living.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Kilgore is undercutting my price on just about everything. I understand that times are tough. If folks can save a few cents by going to the Emporium, I don’t suppose I can blame them.” He heaved a deep sigh. “But, Pastor, he’s pulling so many of my regular customers away from me, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stay in business. And I’ve cut my own prices to the bare minimum.”

  Gideon cast a glance toward the boardwalk and lowered his voice. “For the past two years, Kilgore’s been buying up businesses all over town. He owns the hotel and, of course, his saloons, the newspaper, the tannery, even seven or eight of the farms around here. He practically forced Mr. Lee to sell the Emporium last year. Cully told me Kilgore is trying to buy the livery. Why?”

  The preacher frowned. “I can’t understand why Kilgore is doing this. Besides the Emporium, seems like he owns half the town now, and I hear tell he’s trying to buy the bank.”

  “The bank? Can he do that?”

  Pastor Witherspoon scratched his head. “I suppose, if he’s got enough money.”

  “No doubt about him having enough money.” Gideon resumed filling the preacher’s order. “He wants to buy me out.”

  “What? Gideon, you mustn’t sell. If Kilgore gets control of this place, he’ll fix prices and we’ll all be at his mercy.”

  “I know that, Preacher. The fact is, my dream is to sell this place and start a horse breeding farm. I’ve been looking at some land, and I’ve sent out some inquiries about purchasing breeding stock.” Gideon placed a box of lucifers beside the pastor’s accumulated order and paused to search the kindly older man’s face. “Pastor, I want to sell the mercantile to anybody but Kilgore, but his is the only offer I’ve gotten.”

  The preacher rubbed his chin. “I’ll surely pray about this. You can count on that.”

  The bell on the door drew their attention as Tessa Langford walked into the store. Her faded green dress was clean, and her hair was neatly wound and pinned into a bun. When he smiled at her, she looked at the floor and twisted her fingers.

  “Hello, Tessa. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Hello … Gideon. Hello, Pastor Witherspoon.” Her voice was so soft Gideon barely caught her response.

  “Tessa.” The preacher smiled at her. “I heard you and your father had already pulled out. I guess I was mistaken.”

  Tessa’s chin lifted a tad, and she straightened her shoulders. “No, Pastor, you weren’t mistaken. I think Papa left yesterday morning.”

  Gideon and the preacher traded looks, and Pastor Wither-spoon’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you think he left? Are you saying that you didn’t know he was leaving?”

  Tessa blinked several times while her chin quivered, but she simply shook her head. “No, I didn’t.” She turned to Gideon. “I wondered if there might be a position available here at the mercantile. I am in need of employment.”

  Anger rushed through Gideon. He didn’t understand the malice with which Tessa’s father lashed out at her and could only attribute it to the man’s drunkenness, but what kind of a father abandoned his daughter? He swallowed back the remark he wanted to make.

  “Tessa, do you have a place to live?”

  She dropped her gaze again. “Well, yes I do, sort of.”

  Pastor Witherspoon put his hand on Tessa’s shoulder. “Child, you aren’t old enough to be living on your own.”

  The tiniest hint of a half smile tilted one corner of her mouth. “I’m nineteen.” She looked back at Gideon. “I’m old enough to take care of myself. All I need is a job.”

  Indignation filled Gideon’s chest. Here she was, the same age as his sister who was engaged to be married. But Martha had a big brother to look out for her until her wedding day. Tessa had no one.

  Her attempt to appear strong and composed was evident, unlike yesterday when her tears couldn’t be hidden. An inclination to protect this young woman filled him. He didn’t understand such feelings, knowing her only a few days. Someone certainly should be looking after her, but regardless of any willingness on his part, it didn’t change the facts.

  “I’m so sorry, Tessa. I’m sorry your father went off and left you, and I’m especially sorry that I can’t hire you. I wish I could.”

  “I wish I could.”

  Tessa smiled. How she managed to smile in her position, he didn’t know, but it endeared her to him. She thanked him and bid the preacher good-bye and walked out the door. When she stepped onto the boardwalk, however, Gideon noticed her shoulders slump. Oh, how he hated being the cause of her disappointment. He watched her walk across the street and wondered how many more places would turn her away.

  Tessa stared at the ornate decor in the hotel lobby while she waited for the clerk to finish checking in a gentleman. The room was fancier than anything she’d ever seen. Polished wood paneling and molding set off maroon and ivory wallpaper with gold filigrees. A crystal chandelier matched the sparkling wall sconces. Even the clerk behind the marble-topped desk wore a black linen coat and necktie.

  When the transaction was completed, Tessa stepped forward.

  The clerk, a middle-aged man with thin hair and a thick belly, swept a lecherous gaze over her from head to toe. “Well now, what can I do for you?” He arched one eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twitched in a salacious smile.

  Tessa didn’t like the way he looked at her, but her need for a job pushed her uneasiness aside. “I’m looking for employment, sir. I can do just about anything. I can scrub and make beds, do laundry and—”

  “Just about anything, huh? Well, Willow Creek can use some new talent.” His chuckle sounded purely evil. “But you’re in the wrong place, darlin’. You need to go over to the Blue Goose.”

  “Blue Goose? What’s that?”

  The man threw back his head and belly laughed, slapping his thigh. “The Blue Goose Saloon. It’s down the street a ways. Some fancy feathers and a little paint, not to mention getting you out of that flour sack dress, and you might be a real welcome addition to the stable down there.”

  When Tessa understood his suggestion, she sucked in a sharp breath. Her face flamed with indignation. “Sir, that’s not the kind of employment I’m seeking.”

  She spun and nearly collided with a portly gentleman with an unlit cigar sticking out of his teeth.

  “Excuse me….” She attempted to step around the man, but he caught her arm.

  “Whoa, not so fast there, young lady.” The cigar waggled up and down as he spoke, and she didn’t know how he managed to keep it from falling out of his mouth.

  “My name’s Kilgore. I own this place. I heard you tell my clerk you need a job. Why don’t we go sit over here and talk?”

  Hope sprang up in Tessa’s heart. She resisted glaring at the desk clerk and followed Mr. Kilgore through an arched doorway to a table in the corner of the hotel dining room. The same wallpaper that adorned the lobby covered the walls in this room. Fancy tapestry drapes embellished the windows, and the tables boasted fine linens and crystal glassware.

  He held the maroon tapestry-covered chair for her and called to the waitress to bring two cups of tea. After he lowered himself to the chair opposite her, he interlaced his fingers and tapped his thumbs together. “Now, young lady, tell me about yourself.”

  Tessa swallowed hard and fingered the edge of the ivory damask tablecloth. “I’m Tessa Langford. I can clean, do laundry, and cook. I’m good with sums, and I’m sure I could learn any job quickly.” The waitress arrived with the tea, and Tessa took the opportunity to smooth her faded dress.

  Mr. Kilgore stirred sugar into his cup and sat back in his chair looking her up and down in the same manner as the desk clerk. “Have you ever waited tables?”

  “No sir, but I’m sure I can learn.”

  “You’d have to be friendly with the customers. The friend
lier you are, the more they buy. If they like you, they might stick around for … other services.”

  Confusion churned in her stomach. She glanced around the room. “I’m certain I can learn to wait tables, but I don’t understand what other services you mean.”

  Mr. Kilgore removed his cigar and took a sip of tea. “Don’t be coy, Miss Langford. I’m not talking about waiting tables here in the hotel. You’re better suited to my other establishments. I own the two best saloons in town, the Gilded Lily and the Blue Goose. I’m always looking to hire fresh young women who know how to satisfy my clientele. The right girl can make good money. Of course, I take my cut, but you could do well.”

  Tessa shot a glance through the archway to the hotel lobby. The desk clerk leaned forward on his elbows and watched her with a nauseating grin. She wanted to slap the faces of both men. Maybe Papa was right; the kind of degrading employment Mr. Kilgore was offering her was the best she could do, but honoring Mama’s memory prevailed. She’d rather starve than serve whiskey to men like Papa. She pushed her teacup away and stood. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kilgore, but I’m not looking for that kind of work.”

  Before she could take a step, the man motioned for her to sit down. She didn’t sit but waited to hear if anything he had to say resembled an apology.

  “All right, maybe you think this is a Sunday school picnic and you’re one of those people who thinks they’re better than anybody else. That’s fine, if you want to be pigheaded. I’m telling you, you could do a lot better, but if that’s what you want, I can use someone else here in the kitchen and dining room. Thirty-five cents a day.”

  Tessa lifted her chin. “I need a place to stay, and I can’t pay rent on thirty-five cents a day.”

  Kilgore scoffed. “I suppose you expect me to put you up in the grand suite?”

  She stood her ground without blinking.

  “Sassy little thing, aren’t you? All right, there’s a shed out back you can stay in, and I won’t charge you rent. But I have to warn you—the tips you’ll get here aren’t even close to what you’d make at my other establishments.”