by Jillian Hart
The sky grew darker and the air more frigid as they slowly walked across the street. What they were experiencing was a warning more than a storm, though, Gabe finally decided. It would likely be another hour before the snow started to fall in earnest. The air wasn’t heavy enough yet and the wind would likely calm down as it grew warmer. They would have time to get home before the worst of it arrived.
With his arm still around Annabelle, Gabe led the way toward the open wagon that he’d left beside the mercantile. Fortunately, the store kept the wind away from the horses so they looked passably content to stand where he’d tied them. A small section of boardwalk led to the door of the store and large windows allowed anyone going by to see the displays.
“Oh, my.” Annabelle stepped in front of the side window that was filled with saddlebags and riding chaps. The wind didn’t bother anyone that close to the building so Gabe stopped, too. She was studying the merchandise carefully and he was holding his breath.
He hadn’t told anyone that he was the one making the leather goods for the mercantile. Until now, he hadn’t cared what anyone thought of them, either. They either bought them or they didn’t. As a boy, after Adam had been sent away, Gabe continued going with his father into the mountains to work their traplines. His father didn’t talk much so Gabe had worked out his loneliness with a rawhide mallet, an old stub knife and some pieces of tanned leather. Over the years, he had made enough saddlebags to outfit an army. Recently he’d started fashioning his own designs on riding chaps and knife sheaths.
Annabelle kept looking through the window, but she didn’t say anything more.
Gabe decided she was taking too much time. “What’s wrong?”
He supposed the wildlife pictures he’d carved into the leather were too primitive for her. She’d probably rather have flowers like the ones she had on her hat instead of a mountain lion caught in midjump. A flower wouldn’t sell a saddlebag, though, not if a man were buying it.
“Nothing,” Annabelle said as she stepped closer to the window. “I just thought these bags looked familiar. My father sold some with a bear tooled on the front of them like the one in the back there. Some famous artist did them.”
As far as Gabe knew, his work had never made it back East, but sometimes a traveling peddler bought a few dozen so it was possible a saddlebag had gotten back to a store in Connecticut. No one called him an artist, but he felt a moment’s pride believing Annabelle appreciated what he’d made. Then she looked beyond the leather goods into the interior of the mercantile and she seemed even more alert, like she was searching for something.
“We can go inside,” he said. He should have realized that any woman would want some things at the end of a journey like hers. “I have to pick up my order anyway.”
Annabelle nodded and put her head back down.
Gabe was the first to reach the door and he opened it just enough for Eliza to slip inside. Then he helped Annabelle and Daniel enter. Gabe closed the door behind himself, feeling relief at the sudden warmth. The rich smell of spices surrounded him as he glanced at the bolts of fabric on a nearby table. The overcast sky outside meant the light was dim inside the store, but the goods on shelves and table were plainly visible. He expected Annabelle to step over and touch the cloth. All of the women were drawn to the silk even if they could only afford gingham and he already knew she was accustomed to silk from the dress she was wearing now. She was looking around at everything as though making some kind of an assessment of the whole place.
Gabe supposed the store was lacking compared to the one her father had owned. He tried to see the large room through her eyes. Things might seem jumbled to her. The spools of thread sat on top of a stack of canned goods with tooth powder next to them. An open barrel of pickles stood by itself in the corner next to a scarred wooden stool that held a few old newspapers that, though used, were still for sale. People were most often in a hurry to buy what they needed in this store and they didn’t require it be neatly displayed on shelves.
“Some blizzard we’ve got starting out there.” The clerk turned from behind the dark wood counter and pushed up his green eyeshade. He seemed to suddenly recognize Gabe. “Oh, Mr. Stone. You’re back.”
Gabe nodded. His brother had told him once that the brass trim on the counters here was as bright as anything a body would find on the East Coast and that made Gabe feel good. The clerk, a short bald man, his black suspenders crossing over a rumpled white shirt, might not be everyone’s idea of a gentleman’s clerk, but he had gladly taken Gabe’s order earlier in the day for some dried beans and a slab of bacon.
“I’ve got your things by the back door,” the man added, sounding harried. “If you just give me a minute, I’ll load them for you.”
The clerk pushed his eyeshade back down and rolled his eyes to the side, indicating his attention was required elsewhere.
Gabe turned and saw the three people in the black cloaks. Their wool garments were damp and they were huddled together looking down at something in the glass case. Not too many people shopped at that particular case; it was where the gold watches were kept, safely locked away so temptation couldn’t overtake anyone of humble means.
“I’ll be right there.” The clerk pulled a brass key ring from under the counter and walked over to wait on the three customers. “You’ll find those are very rare.”
One figure straightened up and Gabe noticed the purple feathers in the woman’s hat. He’d seen those silly things bob in church too many Sundays not to recognize them.
“Mrs. Ida Baker,” he muttered by way of greeting and the woman turned toward him slightly. The middle-aged woman, wife of one of the railroad men, was a little stout, but her face had strong features. She’d look fine, Gabe thought, if she’d get rid of those feathers in her hat. And that self-righteous expression on her face.
The older woman didn’t acknowledge his greeting, but her eyes narrowed so he knew she’d heard him and recognized him from the times he’d sat in the pew behind her. As far as he could tell, Ida Baker was the woman stirring up all of the gossip about Adam and the children. After he’d heard her say something about the children benefitting from adoption, Gabe had made a point of attending church and taking Daniel and Eliza with him. His mother had taught him about God and, to his surprise, he found his childhood faith slowly rekindled as he listened to the preacher.
“Ohhh.” A sigh came from down around Gabe’s kneecaps and he looked down to see a look of sweet adoration on Eliza’s face.
The girl pointed at the object she found fascinating. “Pretty.”
Gabe started to say something about how expensive the items in that case were, but, while listening to the preacher of late, Gabe had come to understand that even children needed hope.
“These decorations are handblown glass from Germany,” the clerk said as he lifted a golden pear out of the display case and held it up so everyone could see it. “Even one of these on a Christmas tree makes a whole house shine.”
The clerk had his eye on Mrs. Baker when he was talking, but she didn’t seem moved. That didn’t stop him, though, and he turned the pear until he found a bit of sunshine. The light cast golden flecks everywhere as it passed through the ornament. “See?”
Mrs. Baker looked more interested then. “If it were more than just a simple pear, I might buy one. But my husband promised to bring me some glass berries from back East. They’re in clusters and are supposed to shine even on a dark day. These kinds of ornaments are popular in all of the better homes back there.”
“My father used to sell them in his store,” Annabelle said softly, still standing beside Gabe, but craning her head to look around him to the other woman.
Gabe resisted the urge to step forward and shield Annabelle from the other woman.
As it was, Mrs. Baker met his expectations as she frowned slightly at Annabelle, no doubt wondering if she knew her. If it wasn’t for the rose hat that Annabelle wore, Gabe was sure Mrs. Baker wouldn’t even give her th
at much attention.
Gabe was getting ready to make an introduction when the other woman standing beside Mrs. Baker sighed just like Eliza had. She had a knit scarf wrapped around her head as if she had an earache.
“One of my friends in Philadelphia has a pear like that,” the woman said, her voice wistful as she looked up at the clerk. “I haven’t seen them in any of the shops this year. They are most beautiful.”
“I am afraid they’re too dear for us still.” The man spoke then. His words were low, not meant to be heard by the others. Gabe assumed he was the woman’s husband since he gave her a small smile. “Besides, Christmas isn’t about a decorated tree. We both know that.”
“Oh, but surely for this year.” Mrs. Baker turned to the man. “A pear like that can make a home feel special for the holidays. And with your loss, I’m sure you can make an exception.”
“A holiday ornament won’t bring our little Mary back,” the man said.
Everyone was silent at that and, after a few minutes, the clerk set the pear down on the counter.
Gabe took a step forward and, when Annabelle followed him, the clerk seemed to suddenly sense a new prospect. “Oh, I say. Would the two of you be interested in the pear?”
Mrs. Baker snorted. “That’s hardly the kind of thing the Stone family would want. They don’t even have a house to keep it in.”
Gabe turned his back. He might have been raised in the mountains, but his mother had taught him to be polite to all women. He wished he could forget that for a few moments, but he knew he’d regret saying anything to Mrs. Baker. He’d just have to ignore the feathered woman.
He looked down at Annabelle instead. “Do you need anything before we head out?”
Eliza had taken hold of the leg of his pants and Daniel was standing on the other side of Annabelle.
She looked undecided for a moment, but then shook her head. “I’ll wait for Adam to get here.”
For some reason, that annoyed Gabe more than it should. Maybe because he had been proud when the clerk assumed Annabelle was with him. Besides, he had enough money for whatever little thing a woman would want. She didn’t need to wait for his brother.
“I have a good price on hairpins,” the clerk said with a helpful smile, looking at them as though trying to decide what the relationship was between them now that Adam had been mentioned. Only the owner of the mercantile talked with Gabe about his leatherwork, but Gabe saw the clerk often enough that the man knew that neither he nor Adam had a wife.
Gabe looked down and saw that the wind had blown Annabelle’s chestnut-colored hair this way and that until it tumbled around her face. It had also brought a pale pink color to her cheeks. Only a few strands of her hair were still caught in the gathering she’d made at the nape of her neck. She was holding her bedraggled hat, but she put the other hand up to her head in dismay. He could see her feeling around for those pins. He watched long enough to realize she wasn’t finding them.
The three other people had stopped looking at anything in the store, but were talking quietly to each other so Gabe figured it was safe to continue ignoring them.
“We’ll take a dozen.” He made a guess; she had nice, thick hair. It had a shine to it that he liked, too. He had to stop himself from wondering what it would feel like to bury his hands in it. But that was probably only the cold outside affecting his senses and giving him strange impulses.
“They’re good quality pins,” the clerk assured him with an eager smile now that at least some sale was possible. “Came all the way from France. You won’t be sorry.”
Annabelle gasped in horror. “From France!”
Gabe thought he also heard another gasp from Mrs. Baker’s lips, but he refused to look over at the woman again to see. Instead, he looked at Annabelle, who put a hand to her throat and turned to him.
“I can’t afford something like that,” she said. “Not when I lose the stray pin here and there. I always buy the cheapest pins so that when they fall out I can replace them.”
“And I expect those pins don’t keep your hair in place as well as they ought,” the clerk interjected. “Hair like yours does best with a quality pin.”
“Well, I—” Annabelle stammered, her cheeks even pinker as she put her hand up to her hair and tried to tuck the strands into their former shape. “I just can’t afford them.”
“I’ll make them an early Christmas present,” Gabe said without thinking. She had such beautiful hair; he didn’t want her to be distressed over it.
“That’s not necessary,” Annabelle said, her cheeks fully flushed by now.
“Just add them to my account, please,” he said.
Mrs. Baker and her friends were looking at him and he’d just as soon get his order finished.
Unfortunately, the clerk was a better salesman than Gabe had figured he was. He had learned to tell when a man might want to please a woman, and Gabe didn’t want the man to suggest something more. There would be no impressing Annabelle anyway. If he couldn’t convince his brother to return, Annabelle wasn’t going to want to have much to do with him, either. A few French pins wouldn’t change that.
“I’ll maybe get some molasses, too,” he informed the clerk to take everyone’s minds off the hairpins. “And a half-dozen of those canned peaches you keep. Some cornmeal and flour. Might as well add salt and some cinnamon. Dried apples, too, and some lard.”
“Anything else we need?” Gabe asked as he paused long enough to look down at Annabelle.
She shook her head. Her color had gone back to normal.
But Gabe kept going. “Sugar, of course. Some baking powder and one of those fine hanging hams you keep in the back. Make that two of the hams and some eggs. A bag of good coffee, too.” He thought of Daniel and Eliza. “And a few tablets of paper and two pencils.”
He looked down beside him and saw that the children weren’t there. So he leaned closer to the clerk and whispered. “As long as we’re at it, put in a handful of lemon drops for the children. And a good-sized bag of the peanuts you keep on the shelf.”
Gabe stopped before he bought everything in the store. He had heard the shuffling of shoes as he’d been putting in his order so he knew Mrs. Baker and the couple had moved to look at something else. He thought, from the sounds of their voices, that it was a new lantern that had their attention. Fortunately, he had two good ones back at the post.
The clerk turned around and started pulling sacks off the shelves. “Your brother stopped by just after I opened this morning,” he said with his back to Gabe. “Got some supplies—green coffee and beans mostly. A bit of bacon and some of those peaches you like. Signed your name for it. Traveling supplies. He said you’d told him to do it.”
Gabe didn’t get a chance to answer before he heard a woman’s voice coming from behind him.
“Isn’t she adorable?”
Gabe looked over his shoulder in time to see Mrs. Baker bending down to Eliza. When she tilted her head, Eliza looked up at that feather in her purple hat as though fascinated by it.
“Pretty,” Eliza said as she reached for the decoration.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Baker said with a laugh as she straightened up, taking the feather with her. “Isn’t she just precious? I’m so glad we could see her.”
The elderly couple was beaming at Eliza, too.
“She certainly is sweet,” the wife said as she put a gloved hand out to touch Eliza’s cheek. “Perfect really. Our Mary would have wanted that feather, too. This little one reminds me so much of her, standing here like she is.”
Gabe felt himself break out into a cold sweat and he walked over to the three of them. “Eliza’s with me.”
Then he took his niece by the hand and led her back to where Annabelle stood. The couple was still looking at Eliza, though. Their eyes might be uncertain, but they hadn’t turned away.
“I’m her uncle,” Gabe said, scowling at the older man. “Eliza’s got a home.”
“But not a father, apparently,”
Mrs. Baker said as she stepped forward, her dress rustling beneath the cloak as she moved. She put her hand to her throat, obviously trying to look sympathetic. “I heard the clerk say that the children’s father had ridden through town this morning on his way to who-knows-where. How will you manage?”
“His name is Adam,” Gabe said, not bothering to hide his irritation. “Adam Stone. And we’ll manage just fine. I can provide for the children.”
“Well, be that as it may,” Mrs. Baker said, her voice more strident, “they need a legal guardian and, if their father is away, they might have a problem. We don’t know if he’s ever coming back, now do we?”
“Hush,” Gabe said as he glared at her before he looked down to Eliza.
Mrs. Baker pursed her lips and swished her skirts slightly.
“If you’re so worried about my brother,” Gabe looked up to her and said, “you should be praying for him, not working against him.”
He might not have gone to church much since his mother had taught him about the Bible as a child, but he did know some things.
“Well, I never.” Mrs. Baker drew herself up indignantly.
Gabe didn’t have time to answer her.
Instead, he glanced down to assure his niece. “Don’t worry. Your pa’s coming back.” She looked at him with a tear forming in her eye and he picked her up and settled her against his chest. This time she leaned into him as he patted her.
Eliza was still trembling so he bent close to whisper in her ear. “I’m going to go and get him. Don’t you cry. I know just how to find him. No one can hide from your uncle Gabe.”
Eliza nodded her head against him and she seemed to relax. He felt good that she trusted him to do what she needed. He hoped he wasn’t promising too much. He figured Adam could be found at the biggest poker game around. He’d drink himself senseless and then become convinced he could win his fortune on the turn of a card. If Gabe waited until the game was over, his brother would be easy enough to lead home.
It wasn’t until he had patted Eliza a couple of more times that Gabe realized the girl wasn’t the only one who might be worried after hearing Mrs. Baker’s words. He looked over at Annabelle and saw that her face had gone white.