Song of My Heart (6 page)

“No. They told me to use today to get everything settled. I’ll start tomorrow.” She looked at her trunks, remembering Mama’s hands carefully packing. Loneliness rose again. She turned back to Sid and offered a pleading look. “Can you come by later, maybe at lunchtime”—if the Baxter sisters cooked as abundantly at noon as they had this morning, she’d have plenty to share—“and just . . . talk?”

Sid’s face twisted with regret. “I’m sorry, Sadie, but I gotta take a wagonload to Macyville today. If there’s nobody at the other end to help me unload, I might not be back ’til close to suppertime.” He reached out and grazed the sleeve of her robe—a light, brotherly touch that eased Sadie’s homesickness a smidgen. “But I’ll come by this evenin’. We can take a walk around town—let you see all of it before you start work tomorrow. All right?”

Evening? An empty day stretched before her. Sadie forced herself to smile, although disappointment weighed heavily in her breast. “Of course. I look forward to it. But I better let you go now—don’t want to make you late to work and have the Baxters wish they hadn’t sent for me.”

Sid inched into the hallway, waving the sandwich. “Thanks again for my lunch. Get yourself settled, an’ I’ll come fetch ya as soon as I’m back in town.” He paused and his expression softened, his eyes igniting in a way Sadie hadn’t seen before. “I’m glad you’re here, Sadie.
Real
glad.”

Sadie hugged herself. “I’m glad you’re here, too, Sid.” Otherwise, she’d be completely alone.

He winked, then spun on his heel and hurried off. She closed the door, slumping against the sturdy wood with a sigh. Her trunks waited at the foot of the bed, open but still filled with her belongings.

Determinedly, she pushed herself from the door and marched to the breakfast tray. “Well, Sadie, this is home now. So eat your breakfast, get dressed, and then let’s make this room
feel
like home.”

By midmorning, Sadie had shed a few lonely tears, but she’d arranged her belongings to give the room as much of a homelike essence as possible. Only one thing remained—the framed print of her family, taken just two weeks before Papa’s accident. She gazed at the photograph, tears pricking at the sight of Papa standing tall and proud with Mama on one side, Sadie on the other, and the younger children arranged from Effie down to little John in front of them. Dressed in their Sunday clothes, with the boys’ cowlicks neatly slicked down with oil, and a ribbon the size of half a loaf of bread holding Effie’s dark curly hair in a tail, they made a handsome picture—one that reminded Sadie of happy times.

“I miss you,” she whispered. She blinked rapidly and set her jaw. No more tears! She surveyed the room, choosing the best location for this special item. She decided to place it on the corner of the little stand beside the bed so she would see the photograph first thing upon awakening. She set it just so on the wooden top next to her Bible, then paused in the center of the room to admire her handiwork.

The white wrought-iron bed looked grand wearing Mama’s Jacob’s Ladder quilt done in navy, cranberry, and cream.
“It’ll give you good dreams, darlin’,”
Mama had said as she’d folded it and laid it in the bottom of the trunk. Sadie pushed the memory away before it brought a fresh round of tears. The second quilt—a scrappy nine-patch in all the colors of the rainbow—hung over the footboard in case the nights grew chilly. She stroked the bright squares as she examined the rest of the room.

Across from the bed, the wardrobe doors stood open, displaying her dresses—including the new fashionable cinnamon twill with leg-o’-mutton sleeves and a creamy lace jabot, a dress Papa had insisted she purchase for singing on the opera-house stage. She crossed to the wardrobe and fingered one sleeve, running her thumb over the braid trim that graced the wrist. She wished Papa could be in the audience the first time she performed in Goldtree.

Determined not to descend into melancholy, she turned her attention to her small selection of hats on the upper shelf of the wardrobe. She shifted the position of the velvet sage so it aligned perfectly with the ones sitting on either side of it. The straw hat with its ring of silk daisies had gotten squashed during its ride in the trunk, but Sadie had stuffed three rolled pairs of stockings into the crown in hopes that it would regain its former shape.

Snapping shut the wardrobe doors, she turned, and her gaze fell upon the small framed prints of each of her siblings that clustered on the corner of the writing table beneath the north window. Her supply of writing paper, pen, and an inkpot rested on the opposite corner, ready for her use. She pinched her lower lip between her teeth. She’d been so tired last night she hadn’t penned a letter to her family. But—she whisked a glance at the little brass clock on top of the bureau—lunch was still an hour away. She could do it now.

Humming, she seated herself, took up the pen and a fresh sheet of paper, and began to write. She filled the first page front and back with the details of her travels. On the second page, she shared her impressions of her new employers. She giggled a time or two as she related her first evening with the twins, finding humor in the way they’d insisted they help Sadie with her bath and then screeched instructions to one another over her head as if she weren’t there. She described her room, adding,
It’s rather strange, having a room all to myself, but it’s kind of nice, too. No Effie shoes lying at the foot of the bed to trip me on my way to the outhouse
. She smiled, imagining Effie’s indignant response to her statement.

Midway through the third page, footsteps alerted her to someone’s approach, and she braced herself for the—

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Setting the pen aside, she scurried to the door. One of the Miss Baxters stood in the hallway. “Sister said one of us’d check on you at dinnertime, so here I am.”

Sadie wished the woman would introduce herself. She supposed she could follow Sid’s lead and simply address each as Miss Baxter, but it would be nice to know who was who.

The woman fiddled with the strap of her full-fronted apron and peeked past Sadie. “Got yerself all settled?” Without waiting for an answer, she pushed past Sadie and charged to the desk. Sadie followed her, watching as the woman touched each photograph, moving them from the careful positioning Sadie had created so she could see each face. “These your brothers an’ sisters?”

Sadie nodded, a lump filling her throat again. “Yes, ma’am. This is Effie, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.” She pointed to each by turn, her heart wrenching with longing to be with them in person.

“Fine-lookin’ youngsters.” Miss Baxter tapped the top edge of Luke’s frame with one spindly finger. “Neither me nor Sister married. Nor Asa. So there haven’t been young’uns in our family for a heap o’ years.” She sent a pooched-lip squint in Sadie’s direction. “Miss ’em?”

Sadie swallowed the lump. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

Unexpectedly, the woman threw her arm across Sadie’s shoulders and gave her several solid whacks. “Well, Sister an’ me’ll pray for you. Good Lord gives us comfort for any hurt, y’know.” Abruptly, she dropped her arm and marched to the door. “I’m fixin’ some lunch while Sister minds the store. Bean soup an’ biscuits fine with you?”

Sadie nodded.

“We mostly eat simple ’round here,” the woman said, folding her arms over her chest and staring sternly at Sadie as if daring her to complain.

“Simple is fine. May I help you?”

Miss Baxter shook her head. “Room an’ board come with your pay. That don’t include cookin’ or cleanin’.” She released a soft snort. “Leastways, no cleanin’ except in the store. So you just finish your letter over there—”

Sadie’s face filled with heat. Had Miss Baxter seen what she’d written about her first evening and the bath-assisting incident?

“—an’ I’ll holler when lunch is ready.” She stormed off with her arms pumping.

Sadie closed the door, relieved. Miss Baxter was far from shy—if she’d seen her name in print, she surely would have said something. But Sadie needed to finish the letter and get it posted. She sat back at the table and completed the letter, signing it with a series of Xs and Os, wishing she could bestow those hugs and kisses in person. She folded the pages and slipped them in an envelope, which she addressed in her flowing script. After lunch, she’d find the post office. And when Sid returned, she’d explore the whole town and sneak a peek inside the opera house.

Her heart fluttered. She hugged the letter to her chest. “I’ll make the most of my time here, Papa and Mama. I’ll make you proud of me—I promise.”

6 

T
had stepped out of the café and released a satisfied sigh. Roscoe Hanaman had proclaimed Cora was a fine cook, and Thad couldn’t argue. Every meal so far at the homey little restaurant had pleased Thad’s taste buds and sufficiently filled his belly. He gave his midsection a contemplative pat. No difference yet, but he’d best watch himself. If he kept indulging in Miss Cora’s pies both noon and evening, he’d outgrow his britches.

At that moment, two men ambled out of the café, each grunting a little as they gave their waistbands a tug. Thad offered a nod of greeting, hiding his smile. They shuffled down the boardwalk, their swaying gait indicating discomfort. Thad chuckled. Yep, that pie would certainly add girth. But he couldn’t afford girth. It would slow him down, and a slowed-down lawman was a useless lawman.

Tugging the brim of his Stetson a titch lower on his forehead, he turned and began moseying up the boardwalk. He’d walk to the far end of Main Street and then come back on the other side—the midday routine he’d established to make himself seen and available. Over the past week, folks had gotten friendly, lifting their heads from work to wave as he passed by. Sometimes they even came out and chatted for a minute or two.

Their acceptance increased Thad’s confidence that he could be of service in the town. Of course, so far his services had been more on the handyman side, but he didn’t mind. Every time he lent a helping hand, he built relationships. If folks trusted him, they’d open up to him, which made it more likely he’d eventually stumble upon that liquor-making operation the mayor suspected operated somewhere in Goldtree.

Without warning, a voice blasted in Thad’s memory.
“Thad? You best answer me, boy! Where’d you hide my bottle? When I find you, I’m gonna—”
He winced.

“Afternoon, Sheriff.”

Thad gave a start, realizing two women stood on the boardwalk in front of him. He tipped his hat. “Afternoon, ladies.”

They smiled and entered the mercantile. The women’s warm smiles and words of greeting erased the remaining vestiges of the unpleasant memory.
Thank You, Lord.
He started to move on, but a young woman shot out of the mercantile’s door. “Whoa, there!” he cried, taking a stumbling backward step to avoid being run over.

She came to a halt and slapped her hand over her mouth. Wide, blue eyes stared at him in horror beneath the brim of a lopsided straw hat all decorated with daisies. Despite the start he’d been given, Thad couldn’t hold back a laugh. When he’d met the young lady—she’d said her name was Sadie Wagner—after helping deliver her trunks last night, he’d viewed her as pretty but bashful. He wouldn’t have imagined her being bold enough to dash around like an angry cat released from a crate.

She dropped her hand and pressed it to the unadorned bodice of her yellow floral dress. “P-please excuse me, Sheriff. I didn’t see you.” She held up an envelope. “I wanted to post my letter before the mail coach arrives. Miss Baxter and . . . Miss Baxter said the coach generally arrives at the postal office by one-thirty, so . . .” Her voice faded away as if she’d run out of steam.

“No harm done.” Thad tried to keep his gaze on her face, but the little wisps of hair lifting in the spring-scented breeze and dancing across her shoulders distracted him. He’d never seen such yellow hair. It almost matched the centers on the hat’s daisies. With effort, he pulled his attention away from the delightful coils. “You being new in town, do you know where the postal office is located?”

“Miss Baxter and . . . and Miss Baxter . . .” Miss Wagner gave her head a shake and pinched her brow. “I feel as though I’m stuttering every time I say their names.”

“Then call ’em Miss Melva and Miss Shelva, the way I do,” Thad suggested.

Her brow remained set in a perturbed crease. “I would if I could fathom which was Melva and which was Shelva.” She sent a quick glance over her shoulder, then sighed. “They look so very much alike. . . .”

Thad smoothed his mustache, hoping she wouldn’t see his amused grin. Did she have any idea how charming she appeared in her misshapen hat with sunshine-colored strands of hair spiraling along her slender neck? “Yes, they do look alike.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial level. “But would you like to know how to tell them apart?”

She nodded, making the petals of the daisies flutter.

“They each have a mole at the outer corner of their mouths. But Miss Melva’s is on the left and Miss Shelva’s is on the right.”

Miss Wagner’s blue eyes lit. “Truly?”

Thad chuckled. “Yep. It’s how I tell them apart.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “ ’Course, looking at ’em face-on, you’ve got to reverse it, which takes a little thinking, but it’ll solve your wondering who’s who if you can remember it.”

“Why, I’d noticed the mole, of course—it’s quite obvious—but not the reverse locations.” She closed her eyes and tapped her upper lip, first on the right and then on the left, nodding to herself.

Thad watched, transfixed.

Her eyes popped open, and she gifted him with a beautiful smile. “Thank you! I won’t need to trip over ‘Miss Baxter and Miss Baxter’ anymore.”

“You’re welcome.” He needed to move on, but he didn’t want to leave her presence just yet. She was a pleasure to look upon. He stuck out his elbow. “Let me escort you over to the postal office. Then you can get back to work.”

She took his arm. He walked her across the street—slowly, prolonging the too-short journey. Her flowered skirts swirled, brushing his pant leg. He made no effort to distance himself.