“Mr. Cole, you’re the last person on earth I’d ask for help.” She glanced at the mealy Mr. Knox and scowled. “Next to him.”
Mr. Cole pushed past her and climbed into the back of her wagon. “In that case, it’s a good thing I’m offering, so you don’t have to ask.” He lifted the shell of the chiffonier and carried it off the wagon and back onto the porch.
“And where do you think you’re taking that?” Her voice rose with each word.
“To my wagon. Or, rather, the wagon I rented.” He tipped the chiffonier backward, and Tessa grabbed the bottom.
Hannah gasped. “Tessa, put that down!”
Her youngest sister heaved her end of the dresser into the air, the braid down her back swinging like a pendulum. “We need his help, and we need his wagon. You might be too stubborn to admit it, but I’m not.”
Her middle sister, too, began carting her crate to the second wagon, and Hannah shot her a glare. “Look at him, Charlotte. Don’t you realize who he is?”
Charlotte tipped her head to the side. “What else are we going to do? Leave all our things here?”
The traitors! What were they thinking? He was the reason they were moving!
She glanced at Mr. Knox, who looked rather pleased with himself and showed no sign of relenting.
Fine. They’d take Mr. Cole’s help today—only because they had no alternative—but she’d find a way to pay back every cent of the wagon rental.
Mr. Cole climbed in the back of his wagon, and he and Tessa hoisted the dresser onto the wagon bed. “Cedric, since you’re determined to be a fool about this, take that rig to the barn and unhitch it. Then get back here to help me load their things.”
“Me?” Mr. Knox coughed.
“Well, I don’t see any other men around. You can’t let these three beautiful ladies do all this heavy lifting by themselves. What would Pete think about that?”
“I didn’t come here to work.” He took hold of the horses’ bridle.
“No, you came here to do as much damage as you could. So either get busy or get out of here. We’ve got work to do.”
5
Cedric didn’t return to the house, and Lincoln wasn’t surprised. The man hadn’t done an extra stitch of work in the two years he’d known him unless it was to his advantage.
It had taken nearly an hour to load the wagon and another hour to deliver the items to town. Thankfully, the landlady, Mrs. Murphy, had a few neighbors ready to help unload the belongings. As soon as they’d deposited the items in the parlor, Lincoln returned to the wagon and headed back to the farm, praying Cedric wasn’t giving the girls any more grief.
Girls. He could hardly call Miss Hannah Gregory a girl. She was probably about twenty, which was five years younger than he. If she’d only smile once in a while, she’d be one of the prettiest young ladies he’d met in a long time.
All three of the Gregory sisters had hair the color of autumn leaves. Hannah’s, he guessed, was like apple cider, Charlotte’s was a richer amber, and Tessa’s, the color of brandy. But all three sisters shared the same hazel eyes.
If he’d had brothers or sisters, would they resemble one another?
He pulled up in front of the house and set the brake. It had been a while since he’d driven a wagon, but he’d not forgotten how to do the job. Taking two steps at a time, he climbed onto the porch and found the front door propped open.
Inside, he heard the girls gabbing upstairs and hurried up to see if they’d finished their packing.
“I may break a few rules, but I’ve never done anything dangerous.”
Recognizing Miss Gregory’s—Hannah’s—voice, Lincoln paused before opening the door to the bedroom. Through the crack in the door, he could pick out the three sisters gathered in the room, boxing up the remnants of their belongings.
“Have you forgotten the ice incident, sister?” Charlotte laid a decoupaged glove box in a valise.
“Ice incident? Have I heard about this?” Tessa plopped on the bed, and the springs of the brass bed creaked.
“No, and for good reason,” Hannah said.
He shouldn’t be spying like a gossip-loving old lady, but he couldn’t tear himself away. Was this how siblings spoke to one another?
He should leave them to finish packing. They obviously weren’t ready for him to take the furniture from this room yet. He began to back away, and a board groaned beneath his boot.
The girls stopped and turned his direction, but he ducked away. On second thought, maybe listening to a little more of the story would be fine. He peered back through the crack and smiled as Charlotte continued the tale.
“It was one of the first snows of the winter, and Daddy was taking Hannah and me to go sledding. Of course, Hannah didn’t wait for him. She ran ahead.”
So, Miss Gregory was a little impulsive. Why didn’t that surprise him?
“And naturally, Lottie, you followed.” Tessa giggled.
“I didn’t want to miss anything.” Charlotte accepted a silver brush and mirror from Hannah and added them to her bag. “Anyway, when Hannah reached the pond, she saw a fawn on the new ice, struggling to walk.”
“His little legs were going every which way.” Hannah demonstrated the movement with her hands. “He was slipping and sliding, and he couldn’t get off. It broke my heart.”
Charlotte snapped the valise shut. “So Hannah went out on the ice, even though Daddy strictly told us to stay away from the pond because he didn’t know if it was safe yet.”
Tessa let out a mocking gasp.
“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing, missy.” Hannah flicked her sister’s blue hair ribbon.
“So you rescued the fawn?”
Charlotte giggled. “No, it rescued itself and ran off—about the same time Daddy came over the hill and spotted Hannah in the middle of the pond. I don’t think I ever saw him that mad again.”
“I was only trying to help.” Hannah moved toward the door. “I don’t think a child should get punished for that.”
“He punished you because you risked your life. If I remember right, he made it quite clear you should have asked for help and not tried to do it all yourself.”
Tessa shook her head. “She hasn’t changed a bit.”
“What?” Hannah held up her hands. “I’m telling you, we should send Mr. Cole away. We could figure out another way.”
Lincoln sighed. Even after all the work he’d done this morning, she still wanted to be rid of him. Didn’t this stubborn woman have a lick of sense? How was he going to convince her of the truth? The only reason he’d come to deliver that awful news the first time was because it was his job. But he was here today because he wanted to be.
“It doesn’t make a difference.” Tessa hopped off the bed. “Hannah, you’ve been outvoted. We like Mr. Cole, and we’re smart enough to see he’s an answer to our prayers.”
He wished he were the answer to the Gregory sisters’ prayers, but he doubted Hannah would accept any additional help from him after today. Even though he barely knew her, he recognized a stubborn streak mirroring his own. After today, he’d never see her or her sisters again.
Strange. That thought shouldn’t bother him. But it did.
“Your friend Mr. Knox sure rushed out of here.” Hannah passed a wrench to Mr. Cole after he lay down on the floor to unscrew sections of the brass bed in her bedroom. Her mother would have been appalled that she’d let a man into her private quarters, but there was little she could do about it now. They needed to take the beds apart, and Mr. Cole had offered. She wanted to refuse his assistance, but since Charlotte and Tessa had both welcomed him in like a long-lost brother, how could she refuse?
“First of all, Cedric Knox is not my friend.” He shoved the wrench hard to the left, then twisted the loosened nut off the screw. “He’s a colleague who works in the same law office, and that is where all similarities end.” He handed Hannah the screw. “Second, he’s a first-class troublemaker—especially if I’m involved.�
�
“And why is that?”
Mr. Cole shrugged. “He sees me as a threat, I guess.”
“But what does that have to do with my sisters or myself?”
He moved to the other end of the rail. “Nothing. Like I said, he’s a troublemaker. If I hadn’t showed up, he might have …”
“He might have what?”
He undid the next screw, lowered the rail to the floor, and hopped to his feet. “He might have made good on his threat or made an offer to look the other way in exchange for certain favors.”
“Favors?” Her cheeks burned hot.
“Nothing like that, Miss Gregory. The cad might have strongly suggested you agree to an outing with him to take in a show or go out for dinner.” He moved to the other side of the bed to finish his task.
“Do your law partners know he does this? It’s terribly unethical. Why is it tolerated?”
“Whoa. It’s not. But he knows it would be his word against yours. He takes advantage of any opportunity he can.” He pointed to the rail. “Better grab that before I undo this screw. Hold on tight and watch your toes.”
“But why the interest in us?”
“Not all three of you, Miss Gregory.” He looked up from his position on the floor and met her gaze. “I’m guessing as soon as he arrived, he would have directed his interest solely upon you.”
Hannah dropped the rail. It landed on her toe and she yelped.
“You okay?” Mr. Cole was on his feet in seconds, ready to help her to a chair.
She limped there on her own. “I’m fine.”
Apparently, she was fine thanks to his appearance today, but she had no intention of telling him so. Would Mr. Knox really have suggested the favor of her company in exchange for the use of the wagon? Somehow the thought made her feel tawdry.
“Why don’t you rest a minute while I take down the bed rails? Then I’ll be up for the headboard.” He scooped up the long bed rails, his muscles cording beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves. “I shouldn’t have maligned Cedric. I apologize. It’s not a very good Christian witness.” He swallowed hard. “And I’m sorry about your home too. If there was another way …”
He didn’t finish the thought and let the words fall away as he walked from the room.
Was he genuinely sorry? She simply refused to believe that. Christian witness? No good Christian man went around putting orphans out of their homes. Why hadn’t he offered his help that day? A good attorney should have been able to see a way to let them keep the farm.
Still, he had gone out of his way today. Was she being too hard on him?
She shook her head. No matter how kind Mr. Cole was today, she needed to remember it was his fault they were in this predicament in the first place, and she didn’t plan to forget that anytime soon.
“Hannah, I’ll get that!” Lincoln hurried to the landing at the top of the stairs and lifted the brass bed’s headboard from her shoulder.
“I have it, Mr. Cole.” She yanked the bed back, saying his name as if it were as distasteful on her tongue as a swig of castor oil.
“I see.” He let go of the bed and watched her shoulders sag beneath its weight.
“And I do not remember offering permission for you to use my Christian name.”
He stepped back, his jaw set firm. “I apologize, and since you have this headboard well in hand, I’ll leave you to it.”
He stood at the top of the stairs and watched her heave the monstrous piece down the stairs. The back end clunked on each of the wooden stairs, possibly denting them, but he didn’t intervene. With her chin set and determination showing in her hazel eyes, she managed to get the headboard to the front door and onto the porch without a single glance back at him.
Lincoln shook his head. Hannah Gregory was one stubborn woman. He headed to the bedroom they’d been emptying and relieved Charlotte of the footboard.
“Thank you, Mr. Cole.” She picked up a pile of quilts. “But I thought you were helping Hannah.”
“She said she didn’t need my help.”
“And you believed her?”
He chuckled, remembering her slight limp. “No, but she sure tried to look convincing.”
“That’s her problem. She’ll help anyone, but she never wants anyone to help her. I guess it’s part of being the oldest.” She glanced around the room. “Looks like we’re finished up here now. How much room is left in the wagon?”
“It’s getting tight, but we should be fine. Why?” He followed Charlotte from the room and down the stairs.
“There are two crates in the parlor that Hannah said we had to leave until last. They belong to her.”
“And you think she should have them?” He smiled. In the hours he’d spent with the three sisters, he’d noticed two things. One, stubbornness must be a Gregory family trait, and two, the girls were fiercely loyal to one another. “Don’t worry, Charlotte. We’ll make room.”
They met Hannah and Tessa at the wagon. Somehow, the oldest sister had managed to get the headboard into the wagon without his help. Impressive.
She tucked quilts around the headboards and footboards in the back of the wagon and then wiped her hands on her apron. “That should be it, right?”
“Except for your crates in the parlor.” Tessa peeked over the top. “But I’m afraid it looks pretty full already.”
Lincoln shifted a set of chairs to the right. “See? There’s still a little room left.” He turned to Tessa. “Why don’t you show me where those crates are?”
“Mr. Cole, those crates aren’t necessary. We can leave—”
Ignoring Hannah’s protests, he followed Tessa inside. Behind him, he heard the click of Charlotte’s and Hannah’s shoes as they crossed the porch, hurrying to join them inside.
Tessa pointed to a corner of the living room. “The crates are really heavy. They’re filled with Hannah’s books.”
“What kind of books?” He picked up two volumes from the top of the pile and read the titles. Tipping his head to the side, he glanced at Hannah as she entered the room. “This is a law book, and this one is on ballooning.”
Hannah’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, they are. You read quite well.”
“Why do you have a law book?”
“She has a lot of them.” Tessa pointed to a second crate. “They’re her schoolbooks—from college.”
He spotted a Drake College pendant sticking out of the side of one of the crates. “You’re a law student?”
“Don’t look so surprised. Weren’t there any women in your law class?”
“A couple, but you have to admit it’s a rare course of study for a lady. I believe there are less than a thousand women practicing law today.”
“Well, you needn’t worry about me adding to their ranks.” Hannah plucked them from his hands. “I’m going to be a switchboard operator now.”
“You aren’t going back to college?”
She glared at him.
He bristled. If looks could kill, he’d be a buried out back in a matter of minutes.
“Actually,” she said, “you and the bank have helped me make that decision, and I find I prefer ensuring my sisters have food on the table to obtaining my law degree. So, as I said, I really don’t need these books any longer.”
“And the book on ballooning?”
She set the books back in the crate. “That’s none of your business.”
Tessa flapped her arms. “Hannah is fascinated by anything that flies—birds, balloons, kites, and especially that new flying machine those brothers made.”
“Mr. Cole isn’t interested in my hobbies, Tessa.”
“Quite the contrary.” He lifted the crate into his arms. “And all of these books are going in the wagon. Who knows what the Lord has planned?”
With Tessa already wedged in the bed of the wagon and Charlotte passing out sandwiches to everyone, Hannah slipped back inside the house to say goodbye. All twenty years of her life had been spent in these walls.
She took a d
eep breath and wished she could carry the memory with her always. How would she recall the outdoorsy scent of her father after he’d put up hay all afternoon? Or the smell of her mother’s wonderful molasses rolls fresh from the oven?
Running her hand along the fireplace mantel, she recalled their Christmas stockings hung near the fire and how they’d rushed downstairs to discover what they were filled with. Somehow her parents had always managed to get them candy in addition to an apple or an orange. Under the tree, there’d always been a gift—sometimes store-bought, sometimes homemade.
She wandered upstairs to Tessa’s room and then to the room she shared with Charlotte. The view from her window overlooked the fields where she’d so often watched her father plow or harvest the corn crop. Tears burned behind her eyes. Within a few weeks, someone new would be planting rows of corn on his land.
She entered her parents’ room. She and her sisters had taken little from it—a special box filled with Momma’s locket, cameo, and earrings, Papa’s watch, Momma’s silver dresser set, and Papa’s shaving mug, razor, and pocketknife. The fancy oak bedroom set would never fit in the rented house, and they had no need of her father’s clothes. Their mother’s, they’d packed. Some of the dresses could be remade.
Dropping to the bed, she buried her face in the feather tick. The tears she’d been keeping at bay released in a torrent.
Lord, why does this have to be so hard? This isn’t fair. If only I’d have come home when Momma first got sick, maybe—
Mr. Cole cleared his throat.
She rolled over and looked at him, but his back was to her.
“Miss Gregory, are you ready to go? Folks are starting to arrive for the auction, and I don’t think you’ll want to see them.”
She patted her face dry. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a minute.”
What was she doing thanking him? This whole thing had started with him representing the bank. The only reason he’d come today was to ease his conscience. Of that she was certain.
He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and waved it in the air like a surrender flag. “If you need this, I’m putting it on the banister at the top of the stairs.”
Lorna Seilstad Page 4