Jessie (12 page)

Before Cassidy married Trace, she had opened a small business in town, Token Creek Apparel. For a time she ran it on her own, but then Jeanette Fulbright came to work for her. Token Creek supported the business well, and when Cassidy got married, Jeanette purchased it from her and took over, opening the shop door to the public four days a week. Heather worked with her now, and on Wednesday morning when the shop opened, both women were busy inside.

They were working on several orders at the moment, but they weren't swamped. Cold weather, they had learned, was not the most conducive to business, but they were busy enough. This is the way Rylan found them when he stopped in on his way to the livery.

“Good morning, ladies.”

“Good morning, Rylan. Come in and warm up a bit,” Jeanette invited. She was nearest the stove, and Heather was at the sewing machine.

“Thank you, I will. I've got to get to the livery pretty soon, but I thought I'd stop and see how you're doing.”

Rylan heard all about Netty's birth, well and truly pleased that Cassidy was doing fine and that Joey had a baby sister.

“Pastor Rylan,” Heather suddenly asked, “do you have news of your own?”

Rylan smiled at her, not sure how she knew but very glad she did. These women were very dear to him, and it seemed most fitting that they would know as soon as he could tell them.

“As a matter of fact, I do. It's early yet—we've only told the Vicks—but Sabrina is expecting.”

The women were as thrilled about this news as they were about Trace and Cassidy's. Both of them hugged Rylan and nearly made him late for work with their questions. He hadn't been gone ten minutes when Jeanette realized she wanted to see Bri. Heather urged her to go, and it was for this reason that Nate arrived at the shop and found Heather on her own.

“Hello,” Heather greeted with a smile. “You just missed Jeanette.”

“Actually, I thought I saw Rylan over this way.”

“You just missed him too,” Heather said, laughing a little.

Nate smiled at her laughter and wondered at the fact that every time he saw Heather Wales, he wanted to find reasons not to end the conversation too swiftly.

“Do you have many orders?” Nate asked, trying not to stare at her hair or eyes, both of which he found very nice.

“Just enough,” Heather said. “We expect two to be picked up today—those are done—and then three items were ordered on Friday and Saturday. I'm working on those now.”

“Did you make this shirt?” Nate asked, having forced himself not to stare and spotting a man's shirt hanging on a hook.

“I'm not sure. Jeanette might have done that one.”

“How do you divide up the work?”

“I just do what Jeanette tells me.”

Nate could not stop his smile, his eyes filling with amusement.

“What did I say?” Heather asked, unable to miss how much he wanted to laugh.

“You don't by any chance want to go into law enforcement, do you? Having someone simply do as I tell them would be a dream come true.”

Heather laughed with him then, and this is the way Jeanette found them.

“Well, Nate! How good to see you.”

“Hello, Jeanette.”

“How are the wounds?”

“Healing fast. I'm looking forward to spring.”

“It is
cold
out there today!” Jeanette agreed, going close to the stove and keeping her coat on.

“Well, I'd best let you ladies get back to work.”

“Thanks for stopping,” Heather said as he left. She bent back over the machine. It took some time for her to see that Jeanette was staring at her.

“How is Bri?” Heather asked.

“Doing well. The Jarviks are going to come to supper tonight, so you can see her then.”

“Oh, good.”

Heather went back to work but then found Jeanette's eyes on her again.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don't think so, but I did wonder if you wanted to tell me something.”

Heather glanced around, wondering what she had missed, but then looked back to Jeanette with a shrug.

“Is Nate sweet on you, Heather?” Jeanette finally came out and asked.

Heather blinked at her employer, stared for a moment at the place Nate had been standing, and then looked to Jeanette with a sad shake of her head.

“It's not even spring, Jeanette. What put such thoughts in your head?”

“Well, maybe he's not, but he didn't seem in a hurry to leave either.”

“He was probably just cold.”

“Heather,” Jeanette said patiently, “you're lovely and sweet, and he would be a fool not to notice.”

“You're lovely and sweet too,” Heather argued.

“But I still love my late husband, and everyone knows that. You're whole of heart and quite available.”

Heather could only laugh.
Available
was never a word she would use to describe herself, and while still chuckling, she bent back over the machine, her foot pumping methodically on the treadle.

Jeanette was not so easily put off. She smiled at the bent head, thinking her friend was too precious for words. And then her smile became of an entirely different sort. She eventually removed her coat and went back to work, but her mind was not on sewing. Nate and Heather. Why had she never thought of it before?

Part Two

August 1884

Chapter Six

S
ETH
R
EDDING STOOD ON
the train station platform and breathed in the old sights and sounds of Token Creek. Everything was not the same. New paint could be seen here and there—new buildings too—but the town was still recognizable after all these years. The August heat was oppressive, but he paid little heed, even in his dark suit.

Walking slowly away from the train station, a large satchel in one hand, he took in everything he could see until he arrived on Main Street. It too was a mixture of the familiar and the new. The bank had a new facade, and someone had opened a shop called Token Creek Apparel. The assayer's office was still there, but the sign out front now said Ryan Samz, Attorney.

One thing hadn't changed, however: Wheeler's Mercantile. Seth didn't move closer to the establishment that was still a block down the way but stared at the windows and the name overhead for a long time. When he did move, it was in the opposite direction, his heart beating painfully in his chest. There might be someone in this town who could help him, and until he had that help, the mercantile would have to wait.

Just managing not to laugh, Bri watched 19-month-old Danny make his way into the room. He had found an empty box and was dragging it into the living room. His face was intent, and she knew if she spoke from the kitchen doorway, she would startle him. Instead, she waited for him to spot her.

“Mama!” he said with pleasure, patting the box.

“What did you find?” she asked, now free to laugh with the delight she felt inside.

He patted it again, and then ran to hug her legs. Bri swung him up into her arms just as Rylan came from his office.

“Well, now,” he said, having spotted the box. “Did we find a treasure?”

“I think so,” Bri agreed before adding dryly, “and since he's such a frail, weak child, he could barely drag it in here.”

Rylan reached for his son, who was already showing signs of being as large as his father.

“Did you find a box, Danny?” Rylan asked.

Danny pointed by way of an answer, and Rylan hugged him close.

“I have to head over to the church for a little while,” he told Bri, Danny still in his arms. “Do you want him to go along?”

“As a matter of fact, he needs a bath.”

“Do you stink?” Rylan asked the toddler, shouting with laughter when Danny smiled and gave a nod. Rylan wasn't sure the nod had been a real answer to the question, but it was still amusing.

A few minutes later, Bri and Danny walked Rylan to the front door, and the pastor headed over to the white church building some yards away. The small flock had saved enough to paint it a few years earlier, and it still looked very good.

Rylan slipped in the door and was headed to the front when he realized he was not alone. A man who had been sitting in the front pew stood to his feet, hat in his hand. Not until he turned did Rylan recognize him.

“Hello, Seth,” Rylan spoke quietly, well remembering him from the mercantile, though many years had passed.

“Hello, Rylan. I hope it was all right to come inside.”

“Certainly. We leave the door unlocked for that very reason.” Rylan put his hand out. “How are you?”

Seth smiled a little. “I'm doing well at the moment, but then I haven't seen Jessie yet.”

“You're just into town?”

“The morning train…”

“…that came in past noon,” Rylan finished for him, his mouth quirking a bit. “Have a seat. Tell me why you're here.”

“In town, or in the church?”

“Both.”

“I guess I came here because I don't want to upset Jessie at work.”

“She's not expecting you?”

The other man shook his head no, his eyes on the front of the room.

“When was the last time you were in touch?” Rylan asked, trying to remember if Jessie had ever told him.

Seth shook his head in regret but didn't look at the pastor. “I never was,” he admitted. “After I left here nearly eight years ago, I never wrote.”

“Where have you been?”

“Texas.”

And there it started. For the next two hours the story came out. Rylan inserted a question here and there, but mostly he let Seth talk. Some of what he heard was awful, and some was wonderful. All of it was astounding.

“I'm not sure how to go over there. I'm not sure how to go to the store,” Seth said at last. “It's not just Jessie—I have my daughter to think of too.”

“Daughters,” Rylan corrected quietly and watched as the other man grew very, very still.

“What is that?” Nine-year-old Hannah asked Jessie as she stared down into the box they'd just opened.