A Daughter's Quest (10 page)

After Constance and Mrs. Barker finished doing the dishes, Hans escorted Constance back to the parsonage. “So have you been thinking a lot about that offer in the letter?”

She nodded. “Have you?”

“Ja.” He had thought of nothing else.

What would it mean if Constance sold her farm? Would she stay here in Iowa? Did he want her to? Of course he did, but was it God’s will for her to stay? Hans wanted God’s best for her, but he hoped that didn’t include taking her away from Browning City. The thought of Constance getting back on the stage and riding it out of town caused a pain deep in his heart.

There were other things to consider. Even though Constance said he was one of her best friends, she was still keeping some secret from him. In her busyness, she had stopped talking about the promise and finding Jim Mitchell, but today the letter had brought the issue to the forefront again. His heart told him he could trust her, but his mind couldn’t get past the fact that she might be hiding something bad from him. Because of the way she had thrown herself into the life of the town, he couldn’t imagine her wanting to find Jim Mitchell to marry him. There had to be something else. But what could it be? Maybe she would tell them tonight.

After the four of them had prayed for a while, Constance remembered the Scripture from the first message she had heard Jackson preach. Something about the secret things belonging to the Lord. That night when she was alone in her room, she walked to the window and looked out at the spring night. All kinds of plants and trees wore the splendor of their spring renewal. That splendor had been hidden through the winter, kept by God, awaiting the time to reemerge. Maybe the things in her life were like that, too. Was God keeping some things secret, waiting until the right time to reveal them to her?

Dear God, is there a reason Thou hast not helped me find Jim Mitchell? Is the time not right? I wish Thou still talked to people today. Is my new home supposed to be in Browning City away from the place where I experienced so much grief?

She pulled from her pocket the letter Bertram and Molly sent. After going over to the bureau, she spread the paper in the light from the candle. She traced each word with her finger. When she came to the amount of money, her finger tingled almost as if the numbers were alive.
Am I supposed to accept this offer?

In the early morning light, she took out the unused paper, quill, and ink she had bought when she moved into the boarding-house. Carefully, she dipped the nib into the black liquid and spread her answer across the parchment. Then she dripped blood-red sealing wax to seal the message. After breakfast, she would post it.

Constance threw herself into working in the Community Garden. Doing the things she grew up with made her feel like a productive part of the town. After baking in the morning, then having a noon meal at the boardinghouse, she spent most of each afternoon either in the garden or with Mary.

Spring in Iowa was different from spring in the Ozarks but just as beautiful. Sunshine coaxed flowers to peek through partially opened buds. Robins hopped along the ground searching for worms. They and other birds were particularly fond of the soil Hans had turned over for the garden plot. As leaves began to fill the branches of nearby trees, the twittering of birds building nests lent a special musical background to the work. Constance hummed along with them while she pulled the weeds trying to grow between the rows.

Some days, several other people joined her in her toil. When Hans was one of them, she liked to watch him out of the corners of her eyes. His well-developed muscles rippled as he worked with a hoe or planted another row. She wondered how his shirt kept from ripping, he filled it out so well.

That thought brought a blush. She felt the warmth creep up her neck and onto her cheeks. Hopefully, if anyone noticed, they would just think it was the sunshine giving her the rosy cheeks. She quickly averted her gaze and kept her head down.

One day, she decided it surely had been enough time to receive an answer from the letter she had sent the Smiths back in Arkansas. When she arrived at the post office, several other people stood in line to pick up mail. She had to wait her turn to talk to the postmaster.

She took her place behind a man she had never seen before. When he reached the front of the line, he and the postmaster started a long conversation. Since she was the last person in line, she wandered around the room, looking at various notices tacked up on the walls. Anything to make the wait more bearable.

The man talked really loudly, and one word stuck out to Constance. He said the name Mitchell. She started back across the room to ask him if he was kin to them, but he continued talking, and she could hear every word.

“It’s too bad about those boys. I think they just lost their way after their parents died.”

The postmaster nodded his agreement.

Constance couldn’t hold in her curiosity any longer. “Excuse me, sir. Were you talking about Jim Mitchell by any chance?”

The man turned toward her and nodded, his scraggly beard bobbing up and down in rhythm with his head. “Yep. Him and his brother.”

“I’ve been trying to find Jim Mitchell. He and my father were in the war together.” She tried not to sound too eager.

“Well, I was just telling Hiram here”—he gestured toward the man behind the desk—“that both those boys got in a gunfight in a saloon north of here, and it didn’t end good for them. They both died from their wounds.”

Shock robbed Constance of speech for a moment. Jim Mitchell was dead. If that was true, she would be released from her promise, wouldn’t she? But what about the gold?

“Where did you say this happened?” She stared up into the man’s face, trying not to show him how interested she was in his answer.

He scratched his cheek through the beard. “Let me see. I think it was at Camden Junction. It’s about a five-hour ride north of Browning City. I heard tell they are both buried there. Seems like they were the end of the line for the Mitchell family in these parts. It’s just too bad. I always did like their parents.”

Camden Junction
. Constance would have to find out where that town was located. Maybe she could go there and be sure this man knew what he was talking about.

After finding out that she didn’t have any mail, Constance walked slowly back to the boardinghouse. What did all this information mean to her? How she wished that God would talk to people today. She wanted to ask Him what she should do about all that was happening in her life.

That gold had to be somewhere. Maybe it was on the farm. Tomorrow after she finished baking, she would go out there and see for herself. She knew Martha planned to take her students to work in the garden, so no one would miss her.

All the time she worked in the garden that afternoon, she wanted to tell Mary what was going on, but she didn’t want to worry her. Maybe if Constance found the gold and gave it back to the government, then she would feel released from her promise to her pa. No one needed to know what Jim Mitchell did. She didn’t want to give his family a bad name now that he was gone…if he really was.

The next day, she started baking earlier than usual. By the time Mrs. Barker got to the kitchen, Constance had a couple of pans of biscuits all ready for breakfast. She had started making double the amount of bread every other day, so she wouldn’t need to bake bread today. There was enough left from yesterday’s baking. By the time Mrs. Barker had breakfast ready, Constance had enough pies made to last through supper.

“You really are in a hurry.” At least Mrs. Barker didn’t sound upset. “Do you have special plans for today?”

“I just thought I would spend some time looking around the countryside today. Maybe I have spring fever.” Constance kept her eyes on her work.

“You know, Constance, if you want to take a day off from the baking, it would be okay. You do more than your share of the work around here as it is.” Mrs. Barker came over and gave Constance a quick hug.

Tears sprang to Constance’s eyes. Mrs. Barker made her feel more like a family member than an employee and boarder.

When she finished helping clean up the kitchen, she went by to see Mary. After they visited a few minutes, Constance told her that she wanted to explore the area for a while. Mary didn’t seem concerned, so Constance soon left. She walked to the livery stable, being careful not to go by the smithy on the way. When she stepped into the large shadowed barn, an older man came out of one of the stalls.

“Can I help you, miss?” The man leaned his pitchfork against the wooden rails.

“I’d like to rent a horse.” Constance tried not to look nervous, even though the anticipation of maybe finding something today made her almost quiver.

The man looked her up and down, but not in a bad way. “Have you ever ridden before?” He must have been sizing up her abilities. He probably didn’t want an inexperienced rider to hurt one of his animals.

“Yes, we had a horse when I was growing up. I used to ride it across the mountain to school.”

He stood with his hands on his hips. “So it’s been awhile?”

“At least two or three years.” Constance didn’t like being put on the spot like that. Why couldn’t the man just rent her a horse and quit asking questions?

He went into the open tack room and took a bridle off a hook on the far wall. He turned and strode down to a stall at the other end of the structure. After opening the gate, he went in and put the harness on the animal, then led the horse toward her.

“This here horse is gentle but has enough spirit to make your ride a good one.”

“Thank you, Mr…?”

“Jones. Charlie Jones.”

She took his proffered hand and shook it. “I’m Constance Miller. I’d like to rent the horse for most of the day. Should I pay you now?” She had some money tucked inside the waistband of her riding shirt. She’d find a way to remove it privately when she needed to.

“Naw. We can settle up when you get back.” Charlie rubbed the horse’s neck and gave it an affectionate pat.

He went through the open tack room doorway and brought out a side saddle. Constance hadn’t ever seen one. She had just read about them. They sure looked different.

“I don’t know how to use one of those.” Constance pulled on the sides of her split skirt. “I’ve always ridden straddling the horse.”

She watched Mr. Jones go back and exchange the saddle. He hefted it up on the back of the animal that stood patiently waiting.

“What’s the horse’s name?”

“Blaze, but it’s talking about this”—he pointed to the white slash down the horse’s face—“not about how fast he runs.” He chuckled at his own joke.

Even though Constance didn’t think his words were that funny, she laughed. She didn’t want to insult the livery manager. After using the mounting block to get up on the horse’s back, she turned him toward the street and started riding east. It didn’t take her long to get a feel for the animal, and soon she was moving along at a good pace.

Hans headed toward the livery stable with some harness he had mended for Charlie. In his pocket, he carried a shriveled apple from his root cellar. He liked to give Blaze a special treat when he went by his stall. Maybe he’d take the horse out for a ride, since he didn’t have much work right now.

“Charlie, I’ve got your harness.” When Hans went from the bright sunlight into the shadows of the stable, for a moment he couldn’t see anything. “Where are you?”

“Over here mucking out Blaze’s stall.”

Hans hung the harness on its usual hook before meandering down the length of the building. He leaned his forearms on the top rail of the enclosure and put one booted foot on the bottom rail. “So where is Blaze? I brought him a treat.”

“I reckon you’ll have to wait a bit before you give it to him.” Charlie didn’t let up working while he talked. “He probably won’t be back for quite a while yet.”

Hans dropped his foot back to the dirt floor. “Someone rent him for the day?”

Charlie stopped and peered intently at him. “Yup.” He looked back down at the pile of soiled straw he’d pulled into the middle of the stall. “Some woman. Kind of pretty, but I don’t think I’ve seen her before.”