He turned to Tessa and gestured toward Gideon. “Here’s just the man for you, girl. You’re two of a kind. Both of you are too stupid to know a good deal when you hear one.”
He flicked his ashes on the floor and walked out.
A flood of humiliation crashed over Tessa. Flames shot up her throat and consumed her. Bad enough Mr. Kilgore extended such a degrading offer to her in the first place, but to repeat it in front of Gideon made her wish she was invisible, especially if what Tillie and Flossie said was true. What must Gideon think of her? She couldn’t even raise her eyes to look at him.
“Tessa, just ignore him. He’s nothing but a windbag.”
She appreciated Gideon’s attempt to brush off Mr. Kilgore’s crude remarks as inconsequential, but mortification still choked her. Her eyelids stung, and she bit her lip trying to halt the tears that wanted to further humiliate her. After several slow breaths, she wrangled her emotions under control.
She dared to glance at Gideon, and his warm smile sent tingles through her stomach, which only served to accuse her further. If she experienced such foolish flutters over a smile from a man she’d only known for two months, maybe she was no better than the girls Mr. Kilgore employed at the Blue Goose.
Gideon jerked his head toward the door. “Kilgore was just telling me how foolish I am for not taking his offer.”
Was he trying to make her feel better by changing the subject? “What offer is that?”
Gideon pushed his shirtsleeves up higher on his arms. “He wants me to sell him the mercantile. Of course, I do want to sell, but not to him.”
Tessa glanced around the store with a frown. “Why would you want to sell the mercantile? This is a good, steady business, and I’m sure you make a good living here.” She pressed her lips together. It wasn’t her place to make such comments.
But Gideon didn’t seem to care. “My dream is to sell this place and start a ranch for breeding farm horses. Once I purchase the land and acquire my breeding stock, I’ll be the only breeder in these parts.”
Tessa stared at him. “My papa sold our farm to come west and dig for gold that didn’t exist. It could have been a good farm, but he wanted to chase a mirage.”
Gideon raised his eyebrows.
Regret niggled at her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have blurted out the comparison. Regardless, she needed to complete her purchase and get back to the hotel. “I need a bar of lye soap, please.”
Gideon retrieved the green paper-wrapped block and set it on the counter. “Anything else?”
She dug in her pocket for the few coins to pay for her purchase and managed a smile as she laid them on the counter. “That’s all, thank you.”
As she turned to leave, Gideon came around the counter. “Tessa, everyone has dreams and goals. This has been my dream for a long time. I kept the store going after my folks died so I could support my sister. Now that she’s getting married, it’s time for me to pursue my goal.”
She looked up at him, an apology on her lips. Only days ago, she’d flirted with the idea of having her own bakery, but she’d dismissed it as foolishness. She wasn’t making much money at the hotel, but at least she knew she’d receive a wage every week. After seeing what Papa put Mama through, chasing dreams left a bad taste in her mouth. “I need to get back to the kitchen. Good day, Gideon.” She turned toward the door.
“Wait, Tessa. My sister and I would like you to join us for church on Sunday.”
She halted. The idea sounded tempting. Mama always wanted to go to church when they lived in Indiana, but she was too weak and sickly most of the time—and of course Papa would never allow it. Whenever Tessa voiced a tentative request to attend church, Papa scoffed and told her the church folks wouldn’t let the likes of her sit at worship with them.
“Th–thank you, but I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
The scuffed tips of her shoes drew her attention. “I don’t have anything nice to wear, and besides, I’m not the kind of person that churchgoing folks associate with. But it was kind of you to ask.”
Gideon kept step with her as she started toward the door. “Tessa, most of the folks in our church are farmers. Lots of them wear the same clothes to come to church that they wear to work in because that’s all they have. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
A memory slipped through her mind. “My mama used to sing some of the church songs to me when I was little.” The memory darkened. “But my father told me I could never go to a church because they don’t let people like me in.”
Gideon’s face registered puzzled disbelief, and before he could argue the point, she beat a hasty retreat out the door.
Gideon’s heart ached at Tessa’s reasons for refusing his invitation. He believed she wanted to go, but the image Tessa had of herself was stained with the memory of her father’s ugly accusations.
He returned to the storeroom and appraised his work. Whenever he did find a buyer for the store, the bakery would only enhance its value. He decided to get started installing the stove. Surely he’d be finished well before closing time.
He measured the diameter of the section of pipe that would fit through the wall and marked the place for its installation. While he worked, he recalled the prayer he’d prayed last week, asking God to send him a wife so he could have the kind of marriage his parents had. At the time, he wondered if Tessa could be that woman, but now an element of doubt pricked him. As much as he disliked Henry Kilgore, Gideon couldn’t shake the memory of the man offering Tessa a job working as a saloon girl.
“Is that what she meant when she said people like her?” His hands slowed. “God, I know I promised if You ever sent me a woman to love, I’d not question Your choice.”
Gideon shook his head. He hadn’t known Tessa long enough to be in love with her. Why was he even thinking in terms of love? True, he had feelings for her, but they were purely of friendship, weren’t they? Isn’t that why he was going to all this trouble? He felt sorry for her. Anyone else would do the same. Of course he hoped his plan would make things better for her, as well as enhance the mercantile in the eyes of a potential buyer.
“Hmm, I may run this store forever if You don’t send me a buyer besides Kilgore.” He immediately regretted his words and sent a repentant glance heavenward. “Sorry, Lord. I didn’t mean to tell You what to do. If You want me to be a storekeeper, I’ll be content to stay here for as long as You say.”
He pushed the coping saw into motion. If he didn’t stop woolgathering, he’d never get this job finished. He made the last cut and picked up a section of the stovepipe to test the fit. After a few more minor adjustments, he slid the section of pipe into the hole and nailed it in place. But when he began trying to connect the sections of pipe, something was wrong. Perhaps he should have connected the sections first, before installing the outside piece.
“Well, how was I to know? I’ve never installed a stove before.” He continued muttering as he pried the nails out. Sweat trickled down his neck as he pulled the piece out and laid it on the floor with the others. He stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the assortment of tin scattered on the floor.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?”
Gideon startled and jerked his head up.
Martha stood in the doorway, mirroring Gideon’s stance with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he snapped.
His sister pressed her lips together, and he got the distinct impression she was trying not to laugh. “Going into the scrap metal business?”
Gideon sent her a mock glower. “Think you’re clever, don’t you?” He spread his filthy hands and reached toward her. “Come here, and I’ll show you something clever.”
Martha squealed. “Ooh, Gideon, you’re dirty. Don’t touch me.”
“Ha!” He retreated a step. “And you’re going to be a farmer’s wife? You’d better get used to dirt.”
She made a face at him. �
��I was just coming to tell you that I’m going out to Ted’s place. His mother and I are going to pick strawberries and make jam.”
He grinned. “And you don’t want Ted to see you dirty, since you’ll be working in the garden and all.”
Martha heaved an exasperated sigh. “Ted will bring me home later this evening, so you’re on your own for supper.”
“Oh, thank goodness, a reprieve.”
“Gideon!”
He gave her a contrite smile. “Sorry. Have a good time, and bring me some strawberries.”
After she left, a thought occurred to him. What if Tessa considered accepting Kilgore’s offer of the saloon job? If Kilgore’s portrayal of Tessa was accurate, he’d have no choice but to rethink the plans for the bakery. He not only had a business reputation to think of; he had a sister to protect. Despite their brother-sister banter, he adored Martha and couldn’t allow her respectability to be sullied.
“I’m letting my imagination get carried away. Kilgore said Tessa turned him down flat.” Besides not trusting any of Kilgore’s implications, something in Gideon’s heart told him Tessa simply wasn’t that kind of girl.
He directed his attention back to the task at hand. These wretched sections of pipe must fit together in a particular order before he could get the whole assembly into the hole he’d cut in the wall. It appeared he might not finish this job today, and he still needed to deliver Mr. Behr’s order to the hotel.
He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. He knelt beside the collection of stovepipe pieces and tried putting sections together, but after experimenting repeatedly, they didn’t fit the way he thought they should. One piece seemed too big, while another appeared too small. No matter how he attempted to join them, he always ended up with an extra length of pipe. The part he thought should fit into the wall didn’t seem to fit any of the other pieces.
He didn’t want to swallow his pride and ask for help, even though Cully probably knew how to put this puzzle together. He leaned against the wall and sighed his exasperation. This contraption wasn’t going to get the best of him!
nine
Tessa remembered the last time someone invited her to church. It was the itinerant preacher in Indiana. Papa had run him off with a shotgun. Gideon’s invitation made her heart smile even if she couldn’t accept. But the fluttery sensation she got every time she laid eyes on him perplexed her. She shouldn’t allow such feelings.
Grabbing a towel, she slid her pies from the oven and placed them on the cooling rack. “Who am I kidding? I get butterflies every time I think about him.”
“Every time you think about who?”
Tessa jerked herself back to awareness and glanced over her shoulder at Flossie. The woman’s eyebrows arched in speculation. “Oh, nobody.”
Flossie laughed. “You get butterflies thinking about nobody?”
As she struggled to think how to answer, her face grew hot. Finally the stretched out silence apparently answered for her.
“Okay, I can take a hint. You don’t want to talk about it.”
She’d have to remember to keep her ruminations to herself. The pies cooling near the window wouldn’t last through the dinner crowd, so she set to work mixing more piecrust.
As she did so, she allowed her mind to think back to Gideon’s invitation. Perhaps she could wait outside the church until the service started then slip in and sit in the back. As soon as the service was over, she could slip out again before anyone noticed her.
What was she thinking? Gideon said he and his sister wanted her to join them. He must intend for her to sit with them. No, she was right to refuse his invitation, regardless of how much she wanted to accept.
Tonight she planned to open Mama’s Bible and read awhile. After all, that’s the way she and Mama used to worship together. The only thing wrong with that plan was by the time she returned to the shed there was little or no daylight left, and she didn’t have an oil lamp—or even a candle—by which to read.
Gideon crushed the brim of his hat in his fist as he strode down the boardwalk toward the mercantile. Something didn’t add up. He’d stopped by the bank full of anticipation to learn the price and terms for the land about which he’d dreamed.
Only a few days ago Mr. Sewell seemed eager for the transaction to take place. Why is he now telling me the land isn’t for sale? It didn’t make sense for the bank to hold on to a parcel of land acquired through a defaulted loan. No, something certainly wasn’t right.
He slapped his hat against his thigh as he stomped up the steps to the mercantile. The memory of Mr. Sewell repeating himself numerous times and glancing nervously at the door to an adjoining office that stood slightly ajar raised Gideon’s suspicions that their conversation hadn’t been entirely private.
As he propped the door open, a voice hailed him from the street.
“Gideon.”
He turned. “Hey, Cully. Boy, am I glad to see you. I’ve been itching to get this stovepipe hooked up.”
“Waall, I sure am sorry it took me so long to git here. Old man Kilgore had me puttin’ new shoes on his matched team of buggy horses, and then I had to replace the wheel rims on that fancy carriage of his.”
Gideon set aside his unanswered questions about Mr. Sewell’s odd declaration and turned his attention to Cully and the stove. “The stove is back in the storeroom.” He led the way, hoping his inability to install the contraption didn’t make him look completely incompetent. If Cully could finish the job today, he could show Tessa this evening.
Cully followed Gideon and grinned at the assortment of tin pieces lined up on the floor in the corner. He picked up several pieces, scrutinizing the edges and comparing sections, tapping his finger on each piece and grunting like he was inventorying the lot. “Where’s your thimble?”
Gideon raised his eyebrows. “Thimble?”
“You gotta have a thimble piece to fit these two together. Otherwise, your chimney ain’t gonna be tight.” Cully held up the section Gideon had nailed into the wall and then pried out. “You wasn’t tryin’ to nail this piece up in that hole, was ya?” Cully started to chuckle.
“Well, I was just going by the way our stove upstairs looks.”
Cully’s toothy grin punctuated the man’s amusement. “You’d best stick to runnin’ the store, Gideon. You ain’t never gonna make a living installin’ stoves.” Cully cackled.
Gideon pressed his lips together and decided not to embarrass himself by offering to help. He set to work rearranging the displays out front.
“Hey, Gideon, what’s going on?”
Gideon turned. “Mornin’, Ty. What are you doing in town again? I usually don’t see you more than once a month.”
Ty stuck his hand deep inside the gumdrop jar. “I heard from one of the stage drivers he dropped off a guy here who might be willing to make a land deal. I came in to see if I could find him.”
Gideon scratched his head. “There was a man who got off the stage the other day. Name was Behr. He mentioned something about attending to some business.”
Ty chewed thoughtfully for a moment and tossed a couple more gumdrops in his mouth. “He didn’t say what kind of business?”
“No, it was none of my concern. I was just happy to make a sale.”
Ty nodded like it all made sense to him. “One of the stage drivers said this guy might be connected with the railroad.”
“Railroad?” Gideon frowned. “I read in the paper awhile back that the Chicago, Kansas and Nebraska decided to route that connecting line about fifty miles south of here. There was some talk for a while of the Illinois Central taking over that line.”
After gathering up another handful of gumdrops, Ty shrugged. “I know as much as you do. Figure I’ll ask some questions and see what the answers sound like.”
Gideon propped one foot on a crate of canned goods. “I had a real strange meeting today with Mr. Sewell.”
“Roland Sewell at the bank?”
Gideon nodded. “You know that pa
rcel of land east of town that I’ve been looking at?”
Ty arched his eyebrows and swallowed. “You finally gonna buy that piece? Hey, that’s great. Nice stretch of land. A little too hilly for planting wheat and corn, but you’ve always wanted to breed horses. That’s some mighty pretty pasture land.”
Gideon scratched his head. “When I checked at the land office last week, they said the bank owned it. But today, Mr. Sewell told me it wasn’t for sale. Don’t you find that a little odd?”
Puzzlement drove Ty’s eyebrows into a furrow. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would the bank want to hold a piece of land?”
Either insight or speculation—Gideon didn’t know which—fit some tentative pieces into place. “Unless …” He rubbed his hand over his chin and looked straight at Ty. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Talk of the railroad coming through might drive up the price of land sky-high.”
Gideon caught the corner of his lip between his teeth. “If the rumor is true, it might. When you get done talking with Mr. Behr, can you drop by and let me know what you found out?”
Ty tossed his hat on his head. “If it’s anything worth passing on, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Sure thing.” Ty started for the door. “Uh, Ty?”
“Huh?”
“That’ll be four cents for the gumdrops.”
“Put it on my account.”
“You don’t have an account.”
“Oh. Well, could I open an account?”
“For four cents’ worth of gumdrops?”
Ty pulled out his pocket linings and raised his shoulders, chagrin on his face.
Gideon laughed and shook his head. “Get out of here, you gumdrop thief.”
“See you later.”
“You better have a nickel on you when you come back.”
Truly Yours Historical Collection December 2014 Page 38