Dorothy Clark (14 page)

Chapter Seventeen

T
here were weeds mixed in with the flowers.

Oh, Nanna...
Sadie stared at the dark triangle on the heartweed leaves, the limp squaw plum vines dangling down the side of the vase her grandmother had set on the mantel, and that awful feeling took her by the throat again. It still happened like that when she came on something unexpected—something that showed so clearly that her nanna’s mind was slipping away.

She took a deep breath and blinked the film of moisture from her eyes, spread her dusting rag on the mantel and glanced over her shoulder. Her grandmother was busy fluffing the pillows on the settee.
Please don’t let her look this way, Lord.
She would be so hurt if she knew what she’d done.
She pulled the weeds from the vase and rolled them in the rag to dispose of them later. Done. And her grandmother hadn’t noticed.
Thank You, Lord.
She expelled her held breath and turned.

“I’m finished with my morning’s tasks, Nanna, and it’s so fresh and lovely outside after last night’s rain I thought I would go into the village this afternoon.” She held the wrapped weeds out of sight behind her long skirt and started for the entrance hall. “Would you like to ride into town with me after dinner? I’m sure Gertrude has a list of things she needs.”

“Not today, dear. I’m a little tired.” Her grandmother held a pillow against her thick middle and batted at it to fluff the feathers, then placed it back on the settee. “I think I’ll lie down and rest for a while after we’ve eaten.”

Alarm shot through her. “Are you feeling unwell, Nanna? Perhaps you should lie down now.”

“No.” Her grandmother gave her a fond, though somewhat annoyed, look. “There’s no need to fuss, Sadie. I’m only a bit tired. The rain last night kept me awake. After dinner will be time enough for me to rest.”

That horrible helplessness swept over her again. “Very well, Nanna. I’ll go see if Gertrude has dinner ready.”

“Sa...die...”

She took a breath and turned. “Yes, Poppa?”

“Set place for...Cole. I asked him...come and...eat.”

She nodded and hurried out of the room. Her emotions were all in a turmoil again, and she wasn’t at all certain of what her grandfather would read in her expression save one thing—relief. It was hard to fathom, but she missed Cole. Somehow, some way, his kindness and thoughtful care of her grandparents had made everything seem more...manageable. She hadn’t realized that until he was gone.

* * *

“I have all the information on the clapboard machine now, Manning.” Cole crossed his knife and fork on his empty plate and reminded himself not to look at Sadie. “I’ll leave Mr. Eastman’s letter with you and you can read it over.”

“No...need. Can’t afford...one.”

He looked at Manning’s set face, decided to try once more to convince him. “You’re right. The sawmill hasn’t enough money to purchase one. But with a bank note—”

“Don’t want...debt.”

“I wish you would reconsider your position on taking out that bank note, Manning.” He placed his napkin on the table and rose. “Why don’t I leave you the letter anyway? I think you’ll find the information about the machine interesting.”

“No...need.”

“Very well.” He turned and smiled at Rachel Townsend. “Thank you for the meal, Mrs. Townsend. It was delicious as always.” He turned to leave.

“Wait!”

He stopped, looked down at Manning. “Yes?”

“Sadie going...to town. I want to...go. You...put me...in buggy?”

“Why, Poppa, you didn’t tell me! How lovely.”

The thickness in Sadie’s voice broke his self-control. Cole looked across the table, saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes and wished he hadn’t. “Would you like me to hitch Sweetpea to the buggy for you, Sadie? Or—” She blinked and looked up at him, a half smile on her lips, the memory of the last time he had offered in her eyes. The rest of the words stuck in his throat.

“If you would please, Cole. It will give me time to gather my things.”

Her smile stole the little breath he had left. He nodded and strode from the room.

* * *

“Cole...”

His heart slammed against his ribs. He coughed, frowned. His heart had better stop doing that every time Sadie sought him out or it was going to break—though he was fairly certain that would happen anyway.

“Is Manning ready for me?” He wiped the frown from his face and looked toward the stable door. His heart jolted again. The sunlight behind Sadie made a silhouette of her neat, trim figure, brushed gold over her brown hair and the green gown she wore, caused the tiny pinpoints of amber in her brown eyes to shine. She looked far too appealing.

“Yes. But I wanted to talk to you before you go in to carry him out.”

Sweetpea snorted, tugged. He loosened the death grip he’d taken on the reins and led the mare toward the door. “What can I do for you?”
Anything. You ask and I’ll do it or die in the effort.

“I wondered if you would leave Mr. Eastman’s letter with me?” She turned and stepped back outside.

So she still didn’t trust him. “If you wish.” What more could he do to convince her—

“I thought perhaps if I read the letter tonight after supper and asked Poppa questions about it...”

Her voice faltered. Her cheeks turned a deep rose, and he realized he had stopped and was staring down at her.

“I know that is a little...devious. But Poppa can be stubborn at times, and I learned—”

He grinned. He couldn’t help it. She looked so
guilty—
like a child caught doing something she’d been told not to. The color in her cheeks deepened, and she lifted her hand to finger the silk edging on her dress’s collar.

“Never mind. It’s not a very good idea. I’ll—”

“It sounds good to me.” He smiled to hide his shock that she was offering to help him and continued walking Sweetpea to the hitching post. “Does it work—this...er...sidewise approach?”

Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous look. “Most of the time.”

Her smile set his pulse to thundering. She must have looked like that before— He yanked his thoughts away from that path. He’d face what Payne had done to her later, when he was alone and had more control over his emotions. For now he simply wanted to enjoy this Sadie he was meeting for the first time. He pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to her. “I take it this method has been tested in the past?”

She laughed, a soft rippling sound that picked up his heart and carried it away. “It has.” She tugged on the drawstring and tucked the letter in the purse dangling from her wrist. “Usually when Nanna objected to my going off on an adventure with Daniel.”

Daniel?
His pulse stuttered down to normal speed.

“And Willa and Callie and Ellen, of course. We had wonderful adventures together.” She tipped her head and looked a challenge at him. “How many times can you make a rock skip across the pond?”

He pulled his gaze away from her eyes and made a manful effort to catch up to her conversation. “I’m not sure—four or five, I suppose.”

“Seven, for me. I hold the record.” She laughed and looked at the house. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t keep you. Poppa is waiting, and you’ve got to get back to the sawmill.”

He nodded, dragging his mind away from wondering what her hand would feel like in his if he handed her into the carriage—not that she would let him. “Stop by the mill when you return, and I’ll come along to carry Manning into the house.”

He headed for the porch and fought back disappointment he’d no business feeling as he listened to her climb into the carriage the minute he turned his back. Obviously, her new friendly attitude toward him extended only so far. And that was good. It was very good. And maybe if he kept telling himself that he’d stop wanting more.

* * *

“Good crop...of...hay...this year. Stock will...fare well this...winter.”

Sadie looked across the seat at her grandfather grasping the hold strap with his good hand and leaning out to survey the countryside. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you to town before now, Poppa. I’ve been...preoccupied with...things. It was selfish of me.”

He looked at her. “Not selfish...Sa...die. I under...stand. Is it...getting...better?”

“Yes, Poppa, it is.” She urged Sweetpea to pick up speed when they entered Brook Street. “Though there are some things I don’t believe will ever go away.”

“Night...mares?”

She glanced at him, saw the concern and love in his eyes. “How do you know about the nightmares?”

“Heard you...scream. Couldn’t...come—” His voice broke. He cleared his throat. “Wanted to...comfort...you. Rachel...can’t.”

“Oh, Poppa.” She dropped the reins and leaned over to hug him. “You do give me comfort—every day. I never could have come back home without your strength to lean on.”

He patted her back and gave her a little push. “Sweet...pea.”

She jerked around and grabbed the reins, pulling Sweetpea away from the bush she’d stopped to nibble, and urging her around the corner onto Main Street. The buggy lurched onto the planks of the Stony Creek Bridge.

“Want to...see...Dibble’s new...build...ing.”

“So that’s why you wanted to come to town.” She smiled and reined Sweetpea off the street to the hitching post beside the livery so he could see the new addition. She eyed the clapboard that now covered the building and remembered Cole’s lie. The knowledge of it settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach.

“Manning. It’s good to see you out and about.” David Dibble strolled up to the carriage and extended a hard, callused hand to her grandfather, nodding in her direction. “Miss Sadie. You here to visit Willa’s ma?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Dibble. No. Another time, perhaps. I stopped because Poppa wanted to see your new addition. I have errands to run.” She glanced at her grandfather. “Do you want to stay here or go on to the stores with me?”

“Stay, Manning. It’s been a while since we had time to jaw about things.”

She smiled at her grandfather’s nod to David Dibble, snatched up the basket at her feet and climbed from the carriage. “I’ll be back shortly, Poppa.”

She lifted her hems above the hard-packed dirt yard, hurried out to Main Street, crossed to the block of stores and climbed the steps to the raised walkway. The bell above the door at Barley’s announced her entrance.

The storekeeper’s wife paused in filling an order and looked her way. “Good afternoon, Sadie. What can I do for you?”

“I need some groceries.” She smiled and took a piece of paper from her purse, placed it in the basket, then set it on the counter. “Gertrude made a list. If you would be so kind as to fill the order, I’ll be back to pick it up. I have some other shopping to do.”

“Of course, Sadie. I’ll get to it as soon as I finish up here.”

“Thank you. Please tell Ada I send my greetings.” She left the store and hurried to Cargrave’s, stepped into the recessed entrance and halted as the door was pulled open and the bells tinkled their greeting.

“Good afternoon, Miss Spencer.” The man stepped back to let her pass. “How is your grandfather faring?”

“Poppa is doing fine, Mr. Finster.” She smiled and stepped into the store’s cool interior. “He rode to town with me. He’s waiting in the carriage at Dibble’s livery.”

“Why, I’ll have to go over and greet him. Good day.” The man doffed his hat and walked outside.

“That’s good news about your grandfather, Miss Spencer. It’s been a while since he’s been out and about.”

“Yes. I don’t want to tire him.” She smiled to take any rudeness from her words and stepped to the counter. “I came to check on the book I ordered for Poppa, Mr. Cargrave. Has it arrived yet?”

“It came in yesterday.” The proprietor bent and pulled the leather-covered book from the shelf beneath the counter. “Will there be anything else, today?”

“No, only the book, thank you. I want to get back to Poppa.” She took the volume in her hand and crossed to the post office, her long skirts whispering across the well-trod plank floor.

“Is there any mail, Mr. Hubble?”

The postmaster looked at her over the top of his wire-rim glasses and smiled. “Cole already came by and picked it up. There’s a letter for you from Miss Ellen.”

“Oh, lovely! Good afternoon, Mr. Hubble.” She turned and hurried out the door, debated dropping in on Willa for a quick visit but decided she shouldn’t leave her grandfather waiting any longer. She would pick up her basket of groceries at Barley’s after she got the buggy.

She hurried down the wooden walk to the livery, started across the dirt yard to the buggy and froze.
The horse!
She stared at the golden chestnut with the flaxen mane and tail being held by a man she’d never seen. It was the same horse. The one Cole had been riding the day he rescued her from Sweetpea. She was sure of it. But who was the man? And what had he to do with Cole?

She started forward, then stopped again as the man handed the reins over to David Dibble.

“That’s a fine animal, sir. Too fine to be a livery mount, if I may say. If I weren’t a traveling man I would buy him for my own.” The man turned and walked her way.

A livery mount.
Why would Cole be riding a horse from the livery stable? She returned the man’s polite nod and hurried to the buggy. “What a lovely horse, Mr. Dibble. I believe I’ve seen it before.”

“Possible you’re right, Miss Sadie. Cole was in an almighty hurry to get back to your place the day he brought the first wagonload of clapboard, so he left the wagon here for my men to unload and borrowed Goldie.” David Dibble tugged on the reins and turned the horse toward the stable. “I’d best get back to work. It was good to see you again, Manning. Don’t forget to tell Cole I need another load of clapboard, soon’s he can get it here.”

He hadn’t lied.

“Something wrong...Sa...die?”

“What? Oh, no, Poppa. I was only admiring the horse.” She placed the book on the seat, loosed Sweetpea’s reins from the hitching post and climbed into the buggy.

Cole was in an almighty hurry to get back to your place...

A warm, lovely feeling, absent from her life for four years, swelled and spread. Cole had come back to rescue her from Sweetpea. Absurd that that should make her so happy. She took a long, deep breath, gave the reins a snap to get Sweetpea moving, then reined her around and headed for Barley’s to pick up her basket of groceries.