Song of My Heart (27 page)

As she laid the next sheets of music across the piano’s music ledge, a faint creaking sound reached her ears. She paused, looking toward the carved double doors at the back of the room. She’d left them slightly ajar. For some reason, being closed in the windowless room—regardless of its ostentatious appearance and even with all the lights glaring—left her unnerved. But she couldn’t leave the doors wide open without the music drifting along the hallway and up the stairs, so she compromised by leaving only a gap that offered a glimpse of the hallway beyond.

Looking at the doors now, she frowned. She’d left only a six-inch opening, but the gap was wider than that—at least a foot’s clearance. A slight draft might have moved one door, but both of them? Someone must have given them a slight push, making the hinges squeak. Yet no one stood in the opening.

A chill wiggled down her spine, and her pulse sped. She called, “Is someone there?” She tipped her head, listening closely, but no one answered.

She took several calming breaths. Obviously she’d left the doors open wider than she’d thought. She needn’t sit here like a child waiting for a bogeyman to jump out of the shadows. But she shouldn’t leave the doors so wide, either.

On shaky legs, she skittered up the aisle and caught the door handles. She pushed the doors inward until a scant four-inch gap remained. Her heart pounded. Oh, how she hated feeling all hemmed in. But better to keep the sound muffled. Mr. Baxter would not be pleased if the sound carried beyond the cellar.

With a sigh, she turned to go back to the stage, but another sound—the click of a door latch—froze her in place for ten fearful seconds. Then she spun toward the gap, peeking at the shadowed hallway beyond.
Someone
had just closed the door at the top of the cellar stairs. So she hadn’t imagined her visitor. But the person was gone now.

“You’re safe, Sadie,” she whispered, her voice too low to create an answering echo. “It was probably Mr. Baxter. He came down, realized I was practicing, and decided not to bother me. Yes, surely that was it.” But her pulse continued to race. She gave herself a little shake and spoke more firmly. “Don’t be a ninny. Just go sing.” Hugging herself, she hurried back to the piano. The sooner she finished practicing, the sooner she could go upstairs again.

She sat on the little piano stool and placed her fingers on the keys. She began the introduction to “Lily Dale.” While she played and sang, she repeatedly raised her head to peek over the piano’s sleek top for evidence of an intruder. By the end of the song, she’d convinced herself she had no reason for concern. At the first opportunity, she’d ask Mr. Baxter if he’d come down to the opera room. If he denied having visited,
then
she would worry.

26 

T
had settled into his reserved box seat in the opera house. Mr. Baxter had cheerfully assigned him the first seat in the recently added row beneath the gas sconces, a location that provided a straight view to Sadie’s profile as she sang. The position of one pillar shielded her partially if she shifted too far forward on the stage rather than remaining directly beneath the overhead chandelier, but all in all, it was a good seat and he was glad to claim it as his own.

The past week had been one of the hardest he’d ever remembered. As much as he wanted to spend time with Sadie, he’d avoided her. He blamed it on needing to haunt the cave opening, waiting for the unknown bootlegger to make an appearance, but the truth was he didn’t know what to say to her.

Although he’d fully intended to speak to her when he’d entered the underground singing room over a week ago, the song—delivered in a husky, almost suggestive tone—had stopped him in his tracks. Why had Sadie chosen such a coarse number? He felt a blush building, thinking about the lyrics that had slipped from her sweet lips. Glancing around at the audience, which waited in hushed expectation for the performance to begin, he wondered how they’d react when she opened her mouth and began singing about the pleasant pressure of a man’s hand on her spine.

Roscoe and Miriam Hanaman wriggled into their seats next to Thad’s, Roscoe’s natural bulk and Miriam’s voluminous dress of plum velvet making it a tight fit. The mayor’s wife beamed at Thad. “Good evening, Sheriff. Are you eager for another of Miss Sadie’s impressive performances?”

Thad nodded, even though his stomach churned. “Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Roscoe Hanaman chuckled. “Miriam won’t allow me to miss a single performance. These shows are the best part of her week, she says.” He bumped Thad’s arm with his elbow, winking. “Almost makes me want to take up singing, so I can be the best part of her week.”

“Oh, Roscoe, you silly goose!” Mrs. Hanaman slapped playfully at her husband’s wrist. The two of them laughed merrily.

Miriam shifted to visit with the person on her left, and Roscoe leaned closer to Thad. He whispered, “What more have you turned up since we spoke last?”

Thad grimaced. He had little new to report in revealing the instigator, but he shared what he’d discovered. “Somebody’s got quite an operation out there. The cave went a lot deeper than I expected. Three different chambers, each containing a good-sized still. I found at least thirty jugs, already full, in the middle chamber, an’ nearly a dozen empty barrels. I reckon whoever set it all up is getting quite an output.” He shook his head, frustration rising to pinch his chest. “But I couldn’t find a thing to help me identify our bootlegger.”

Roscoe frowned. “But the man’s got to go out and check his stills every day, doesn’t he? Why haven’t you spotted him?”

Thad gritted his teeth, holding back a defensive retort. How could he sit beside that cave entrance all day and still be on duty in town? He forced an affable tone. “I’m out there as much as I can be without making the townsfolk wonder why I’m not on duty.”

“Hmm.” Roscoe pooched his lips, making his mustache twitch. “Maybe we should hire someone to camp near the cave and watch the area.”

Thad quirked one eyebrow. “You want me to post somebody out there? I’d have to tell them why they were watching . . . and I thought you wanted this to be our little secret.”

Hanaman sighed. “You’re right. I guess you’ll just have to go out more often.”

Before Thad could reply, a flurry of movement caught his eye—Sadie coming up the middle aisle in her familiar dress, her hair cascading over her shoulders in a shimmering curtain. As one, the audience rose and broke into applause. Thad stood, but his shaking hands refused to connect with each other. How quickly she’d won their admiration. But they hadn’t heard her new repertoire yet.

When Sadie stepped onto the stage, folks settled back into their seats to a chorus of creaking metal joints and excited whispers. They aimed their faces straight ahead, and their voices fell silent. Sadie nodded to the pianist—her signal to begin. She opened the program with a hymn, then moved into a ballad. Three more hymns, another ballad. Thad sat tense, hardly daring to breathe or blink, waiting for the song he’d overheard to find its way into the program. But after an hour, she sang what had become her traditional closing number—“Eternal Father, Strong to Save”—and by the time she’d finished to rousing applause, Thad wondered if he’d imagined her practicing an unseemly selection.

Sadie made her way up the center aisle, smiling, shaking hands, bobbing her head in silent appreciation, then disappeared behind the double doors. Thad started after her, but Roscoe caught his arm and drew him to the corner to discuss the cave and the stills. By the time he and the mayor finished talking, it was too late to seek out Sadie. So he decided to come back Saturday night and listen. Maybe she’d insert the new songs into Saturday’s performance.

Saturday dragged longer than any day in Thad’s memory. He spent a significant portion of it watching the break in the trees that led to the cave. But to no avail. The bootlegger kept himself hidden. When the evening finally arrived, Thad took his seat, once again so tense his leg muscles quivered in apprehension. As she had on Friday, Sadie sang hymns and ballads—a different collection than the night before, but nothing of a questionable nature. By the close of Saturday night’s show, his confusion had reached unreasonable heights.

He scuffed his way to his office, his thoughts reeling. When he’d taken her to supper, Sadie had told him she needed to practice for “next week’s performance.” He’d clearly heard her singing a song one might hear in a saloon or from the lobby of a house of ill repute. If the song wasn’t a part of her opera house repertoire, then why did she need to learn it?

“Ack! Help! Help!”

The hysterical screech roused Sadie from a sound sleep before dawn on Sunday morning. She leaped out of bed and raced into the shadowy hallway, her nightgown tangling around her ankles. Miss Melva stumbled out of her bedroom and joined Sadie.

“Help!” The cry came again.

“That’s Sister!” Miss Melva hollered, her face white. She looped elbows with Sadie and together they thundered down the stairs and around the corner into the mercantile, nearly colliding with Miss Shelva, who stood just inside the door leading into the merchandise area.

Only muted light filtered through the plate-glass windows, but even with the room cast in gray shadows, Sadie spotted the source of Miss Shelva’s distress. The place was a shambles! The twins clung to each other, blubbering.

Sadie pushed past the sisters and ran barefooted out the front door, which stood ajar, and up the boardwalk to the sheriff’s office. The door was locked, so she pounded her fist on the solid wood while peering through the glass. Moments later, Thad careened from the back half of the office, his shirttails flapping.

He threw open the door. “What’re you doing out here in your nightclothes?”

Only then did Sadie remember her state of undress. Heat seared her face, but she couldn’t allow embarrassment to keep her from her task. Clutching fistfuls of fabric at her throat with one hand, she caught Thad’s sleeve with the other and gasped, “The mercantile’s been robbed!”

Thad’s eyebrows flew high. Without another word, he pounded behind her, his bootheels an echoing intrusion in the morning’s calm. Sadie left Thad listening to Miss Melva and Miss Shelva and darted upstairs to put on a dress and twist her hair into a simple braid before going back to the mercantile. By then, the sun had crept high enough to illuminate the scene, and Sadie couldn’t hold back a gasp when she saw the damage in full light.

The twins and Thad stood at the counter, surveying the mess, and Sadie crossed directly to her employers. She hugged first Miss Melva, then Miss Shelva. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

Thad sent a stern look in her direction. “Miss Melva an’ Miss Shelva say they didn’t hear a thing last night. But something like this”—he swept his hand, indicating the tumble of cans, strewn cloth bolts, and overturned crates—“had to have made a heap of noise. Did you hear anybody down here last night?”

Sadie bit down on her lower lip and shook her head. Guilt assailed her. She’d gone to bed late, having stayed up to pen a lengthy letter to Mama and the children, then had put her pillow over her ears to muffle the loud snore emanating from one of the twins’ bedrooms. The pillow must have blocked the sounds made by the thieves. “I’m sorry. But no, I didn’t hear anything, either.”

“Why would somebody wanna rob us?” Miss Melva’s gray hair stood out around her head like a lion’s mane. Her faded eyes flooded with tears. “We give credit to anybody who asks. No need to steal from us.”

“No need at all,” Miss Melva added.

Miss Shelva drew in a shuddering breath. “Well, Sister, reckon we won’t be attendin’ Sunday services this mornin’. We gotta get this place in order by tomorrow. Else customers won’t be able to find a thing.” With sniffles and disheartened sighs, the pair shuffled into the mess and began picking up.

Sadie looked into Thad’s grim face. “Could you ride out and let Mr. Baxter know what’s happened? I think Miss Melva and Miss Shelva would appreciate his support.”

Thad muttered, “Can’t imagine him being much help, but yes, I’ll go get him.” He high-stepped over several discarded cans and gave each of the Baxter twins a hug, promising to return soon. Then he strode toward the door. Just before leaving, he paused and looked back at Sadie. Her heart caught, hoping for a word of comfort or a sweet wink—anything. But he merely stared at her with an odd expression on his face for the space of several seconds, then clomped out without a word.