Blowing on Dandelions (7 page)

Virginia poked her needle into the quilt and left it there. “You have the right idea, Ella. And it’s not always an easy thing, especially when they don’t deserve it. We’ve all met people who are hard to live with and get more crotchety in their old age.” She patted the sides of her silver hair, which was swept back into a knot at the back of her head. “I have a head full of gray now, but when I was young, I always declared I’d not be one of those mean old ladies.”

Katherine sank onto the stool behind her. “I wish Mama had made that decision.” She almost hated herself for saying the words out loud, but if she didn’t let them out in this safe place, she knew something worse would tumble out at home. “I don’t know why Mama dislikes me so much.”

Leah had been silent, listening to the other ladies share. Now she tapped her toe on the hardwood floor. “Are you sure it’s you she dislikes?”

Katherine’s head shot up. “What do you mean? I’m the one she criticizes.”

“I was thinking …” Leah’s head tipped to the side, her red hair glinting in the sun that streamed through the stained glass windows. “Maybe she’s angry at someone else and takes it out on you. Was she a happy child? Do you know if she had a good marriage?” She pushed a wayward tendril out of her face. “I don’t mean to pry, but sometimes when people have been hurt, it comes out as anger toward others.”

Hester Sue shrugged. “Pa was downright mean. I don’t think it’s ’cause
he
was hidin’ any hurts.”

“But you never know, Hester Sue. Maybe his pa beat him, too.” Virginia’s calm tone flowed across the ripples of tension starting to form in the room. “Leah might be right, Katherine. Do you know much about your mother’s past?”

“Not a lot. I know she worshipped her first husband, and it crushed her when he died. And my pa …” She clenched her jaw and hesitated. How much could she tell these women? Yes, she’d come to love and trust them, but would it do any good to air her family’s dirty laundry? Yet she’d been carrying the burden for so long, and she longed to find a reasonable explanation for her mother’s behavior—something that didn’t point back at her, if possible. “I think she married my pa so she wouldn’t be alone while raising my older sister, June. Then, after she found out Pa had a gambling problem and couldn’t hold on to money, she lost all respect for him.” She remembered something she’d heard her mother say years ago. “I don’t think she got along with her own father either. I’m not sure, but I think he broke my grandmother’s heart more than once.”

A chorus of clucks and sympathetic voices surrounded Katherine, wrapping her in a cocoon of comfort.

“I see what you all are saying,” she said slowly, “but I’m not sure Mama’s past has much to do with how she treats me. From what I can tell, I’ve just never measured up to what she expected me to be—at least, not like June did.”

Virginia slipped a slender arm around Katherine’s shoulders. “We love you, child, and I’m guessing your mother does too. Maybe she has a hard time showing it, but you keep on praying and seeking the Lord, and He’ll give you the key to unlocking her heart in His own time.”

“That’s right, Katherine.” Hester Sue’s brown eyes snapped. “Keep on prayin’, but you mustn’t feel you don’t have friends. Anytime you need to talk, you come runnin’ to us, you hear?”

Katherine smiled and nodded. “I’m so thankful for each of you.” She leaned back over the quilt and stabbed at the fabric, trying to see through the tears clouding her vision. What she wouldn’t give to have Virginia as her mother, or even Hester Sue with all her rough edges. She’d keep on praying, but somehow she couldn’t imagine Mama’s heart changing anytime soon.

Frances watched at the window as Katherine sauntered off the road and up the path toward the house. Frances had been puttering in the kitchen for close to an hour, making a special dish for their luncheon. Obviously her daughter hadn’t cared to hurry home to her domestic chores, but they still needed tending. Another example of Katherine’s flibbertigibbet ways—she needed to think things through before dashing off to wherever she had been all morning.

This boardinghouse was a huge undertaking, and if her daughter didn’t do things right, she and the girls could end up in the street. Why, to Frances’s way of thinking, Katherine didn’t have nearly enough business to make expenses, much less earn the money to buy the necessities of life. Someone should set the girl straight and help her make wise decisions.

And she was just the person to make that happen.

Chapter Nine

Micah headed for the door that led down to the livery. “Did you make sure all the stall doors were locked?”

Zachary’s jaw tightened. “Yes, Pa. I wish you wouldn’t worry so much.”

Micah nodded. “Good enough. Head to bed then.” His son had worked hard lately, more than making up for the time he’d sneaked off with the Galloway girl. Of course, now that Micah had met Lucy at dinner three days ago, he could see why Zachary might be smitten with her.

Kind, quiet, and as pretty as her mother. He tucked the thought away. Emma had been the prettiest woman he’d ever known, and no one could take her place. Nor did he aim to go there.

He walked across the cramped sleeping loft to his bed, which was on the far end of the room, closest to the kitchen. The weather was beginning to warm, and the stillness of the air had kept him awake for several nights. Thankfully a wind had sprung up today, cooling the temperature in their upstairs quarters considerably. Maybe tonight he’d make up for the hours spent lying awake. He pushed his suspenders over his shoulders, then sat on his bed and tugged off his boots. Once undressed, he stretched out on the cool sheet.

Micah flopped over onto his side, relishing the feel of the bed. He was glad he’d asked Zachary to take care of things down below. Time to let the boy grow up and quit checking every move he made. Besides, sleep was dogging his trail, and he could barely keep his eyelids open.

Micah woke from a deep sleep, groping through leftover slivers of dreams he couldn’t quite grasp. Had Zachary called and woken him from slumber? He struggled upright and listened, but nothing stirred. Maybe the terrifying nature of the dream had awakened him.

He probed the recesses of his memory.
Fire.
He’d been caught in a raging fire and couldn’t find his son. Emma had appeared on the other side of the smoky veil begging him to hurry, pleading with him not to fail. But what had been burning? He shook his head, unable to grasp the fading image.

A drink of water would put him to rights, but he’d need to be quiet. No reason for both him and Zachary to be awake. He tiptoed across the room and into the adjoining living area. Something popped beneath his feet. He paused. There—the sound came again, louder this time. A horse in the livery kicking a stall? No, it didn’t have the right tone. It wasn’t a solid thump, but more of a crackle.

Suddenly the shrill scream of a horse rent the air. Racing to the door, Micah yanked it open. Smoke billowed in his face. Flames like those he’d seen in his nightmare licked at the wall near the foot of the stairway. For a second he stood frozen—had he fallen asleep on his bed and drifted back into the dark maze of his dream?

No. This was real. Too real.

“Zachary. Wake up. Hurry!” He sprinted across the room and shook his son’s shoulder. “The livery’s on fire, and we’ve got to get out.”

Zachary bolted upright, his hair sticking out in tufts on top of his head. “What did’ya say, Pa?” The words were mumbled, and he scrubbed at his eyes.

Micah heaved the boy to his feet and hauled him toward the stairway, grabbing both of their boots as he passed the chair at the foot of his bed. “Run. Go find help. The barn’s on fire.” He yanked on his pants under his nightshirt.

Zachary’s gaze widened. “Yes, sir. Aren’t you coming?”

“Yes. Now hurry. No time to waste. I’ll turn out the horses first.” He shoved Zachary toward the open door and tugged on his boots, then ran down the stairs behind his boy, watching him until he disappeared. Thank the good Lord the stairs ended a couple feet from the back entrance, and Zachary escaped without harm.

Micah swiftly surveyed the scene. The flames he’d spotted earlier licked at a side wall and smoldered in a pile of damp straw. More flames crept along the floor following a trail of straw. He ran forward and kicked dirt across the blazing stubble. Maybe he could get this under control without too much problem.

He grappled with two choices: take time to turn the horses out, or fight the fire and hope to win before it got a firm hold. The stomping and neighing from the nearby stalls made the decision. He sprang into action. A couple of the animals belonged to boarders, and he couldn’t chance their safety.

Running to the big front doors, he pushed them open, then jogged to the first stall. He swung it wide and stepped aside to avoid getting trampled by the frantic animal, but instead the gelding backed into the far corner, eyes wild and rolling.

“Come on, Roman. Out of there.” Micah twirled a rope he’d picked up, hoping to encourage the gelding to run out the doorway, but the big bay reared and struck out at him. “Easy, boy. Come on.” It took precious moments to edge around the horse and turn him toward the outside. Once the horse’s head was pointed the right direction, Micah slapped Roman on the rump, sending him racing.

He ran to the second stall, tossing a glance behind him as he moved. The flames that had been smoldering in the straw had ignited full force and now blazed against the interior wall. The fire had climbed to the top of the stacked bales of hay and straw and licked at the ceiling timbers that supported the second floor. If help didn’t come soon, Micah would lose everything he’d worked so hard for. How much time had passed since he’d sent Zachary on his way? Would he even know where to go in the dark, and would he be bold enough to pound on a stranger’s door?
Please, God, don’t let him try to run clear across town to his friend Lucy’s house. It’s too far.

Another five minutes passed as he set the rest of the horses free. He flung his arm across his face, nearly retching from the thick smoke choking the air.

A shout sounded up the street, and footsteps thudded on the dirt outside the barn. “Jacobs, you in there?” Pastor Seth Russell stepped within the circle of light cast by the flames.

“Yeah. One more horse coming out. Stand clear.” Micah opened the last stall door and chased the sorrel mare out of the barn. “Where’s Zachary?”

“I sent him to ring the church bell.” Pastor Seth called over his shoulder to three shadowy figures emerging from the predawn gloom, “Hurry, men. There’s no time to lose. Get to the water trough.”

Micah could barely make out the faces of the sheriff, a storekeeper, and another man he didn’t recognize. He took a shallow breath and coughed. “You have buckets?”

Pastor Seth nodded. “Each of us brought one, and I sent someone after burlap bags, but I’m not sure how much good they’re going to do.”

Micah peered in the direction the pastor pointed. The flames cracked and danced as they raced across the tar-coated ceiling, gaining a deep hold. Embers drifted through the smoky air, igniting piles of straw and hay. Micah dashed forward, eluding the pastor’s extended arm. He had to save his tools. He couldn’t afford to completely start over.

“Jacobs, get out of there!” Seth’s words echoed in his ears, but Micah ignored the plea. Only a couple more feet to his workbench. He yanked open the cupboard and reached inside for the big wood box that housed the implements of his trade. Tucking it under his arm, he swiveled as the church bell began to toll. A loud cracking caught his attention, and he glanced up. Just then a blazing timber, bowed under the weight of the flaming ceiling, crashed toward him.

Katherine donned a shawl and turned toward her mother and children. “I don’t know why they’re ringing the bell, but I might be able to help. Mama, you’re sure you don’t mind staying with the girls?”

Frances straightened to her full five-foot-two height. “Why would I mind? They are my granddaughters, are they not? Now go.” She waved toward the door. “No sense standing here jawing about it.”

Lucy grabbed a coat and jammed her hands into the sleeves. “I’m not staying here. I’m coming with you.”

Katherine peered at her older daughter. Lucy’s pale skin and wide eyes spoke volumes. “All right. But you’re to stick close beside me at all times, no matter what. Is that understood?”

Lucy nodded and raced for the entry. “Hurry, Ma. They never ring the bell at night unless something bad happens.”

Amanda tugged on the fringe of Katherine’s shawl. “Ma? Why can’t I come?”

Katherine bent over and whispered in her little girl’s ear. “You need to stay and keep Grandma company, honey. You don’t want her to be lonely, do you?”

Mandy’s mouth rounded. “Okay, Ma. I will.”

Katherine followed Lucy outside, trying to quell the nausea twisting her stomach. The bells had rung the day of the mining accident when Daniel died.
Please, God, don’t let someone else’s husband be lost.
As they picked their way carefully down the path to the road, gratitude for her mother’s presence swelled in her heart. Somehow Katherine believed she must be there for whatever was happening, and Katherine wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving Amanda home alone.

Lucy picked up the pace the minute they hit the road. “Can’t you walk any faster, Ma?” She lifted her chin and inhaled a deep breath. “I smell smoke.”

Katherine sniffed and caught the odor of burning wood drifting on the wind. She clutched her skirt, pulling it well above her ankles, and raced after Lucy. They ran along the back edge of town, the sky glowing a dull orange against the horizon. Men’s voices shouted above the din of the flames. They rounded the corner onto the far end of the main street. Lucy bolted forward, and Katherine grabbed her hand. “No. You’re not to go near that fire!”

“But, Ma! It’s Zachary’s pa’s barn, and they live upstairs.” Her voice rose to a wail, and she struggled to escape. “Please, let me go see if he’s all right!”

“Lucy.” Katherine pulled the girl toward her. “Stop. We’ll go together and see what we can discover, but you’ll not leave my side. Promise me.”

Lucy stifled a sob. “I promise. But hurry.”

Frances paced the floor of the sitting room and stared at the clock. How long would it be before word came from town? She’d already tucked Amanda into bed, read her a story, and given her a glass of warm milk to entice the child to sleep, and still no sign of Katherine or Lucy. The bell had stopped ringing some time ago.

The hands of the clock said only thirty minutes had passed since her daughter and granddaughter had left, but it seemed like hours. Maybe the timepiece had stopped working. She stepped closer and listened. Ticking. She sank into the comfort of a nearby chair, resting her head against the high wingback.

Katherine, Lucy, and Amanda were her entire world now. Nothing and no one else mattered. She’d had her differences with Katherine over the years, but she loved her girl with an unshakable passion.

If only she’d been able to accompany Katherine and Lucy to town … but she knew her duty as a grandmother. Surely, whatever the problem was, it wouldn’t reach its tentacles out and ensnare her two girls. She rubbed her hands against her forearms and shivered. First, her dear husband had died, then Katherine’s father, then wonderful Daniel, and most recently, her precious June.
Please, God, let no one else in the family be lost this night.

She doubted her heart could withstand another such loss.