Song of My Heart (7 page)

“Thank you for your assistance, but I don’t need to go back to work. At least not today.” She had a lilting voice, musical in quality. “Miss Shelva and Miss Melva said I’ll start working tomorrow. Today I’m to get acquainted with the town.”

Thad’s heart gave a happy flip as an idea formed. “Well, then, how about this? You post your letter, and then you can join me on my rounds. I’ll point out everything I’ve discovered so far in Goldtree. In no time at all, you’ll feel right at home.”

Her face lifted to his, her expression surprised. “You have time to show me the town?”

He coughed to cover his chortle. Being new, she didn’t realize how little time it would take. “I have time, and it’ll be my pleasure.” He opened the screened door and gestured for her to enter the post office. “Post your letter. I’ll wait out here.”

Thad paced back and forth, peering up and down the street. He slipped his hands in his pockets. Pretended to admire the clouds. Nodded at male passersby and tipped his hat to the ladies. Whistled a tuneless melody. Dropped his gaze and tapped his toe on a knothole in one of the boardwalk’s planks.

A sweet trickle of laughter carried from inside the post office. Thad flicked a glance at the gingerbread-bedecked screen door. Jealousy tightened his chest. What had the postmaster said to make Miss Wagner laugh? And how long did it take to buy a two-cent stamp and affix it to an envelope, anyway?

Finally Miss Wagner emerged, empty-handed and smiling. “Mr. Rahn assigned me the use of a postal box—box number one forty-three. He’s a very kind man with a delightful sense of humor.”

Thad had met Mr. Rahn—at his meeting with the town council on his first evening in Goldtree. But the man hadn’t cracked a smile the whole evening, let alone said anything funny.

She released an airy sigh. “With my own postal box, I feel as though I’m truly a citizen of Goldtree.” For a moment, her smile dimmed, but then she clasped her hands together and aimed a sweet look in his direction. “I’m ready to see the town now.” She glanced around, seeming to drink in her surroundings. “It is a lovely day for a walk.”

The loveliest ever, Thad thought, but he kept the words inside. Had he ever felt so drawn to a woman?

Her gaze settled on him again. “Are you sure I’m not keeping you from your duties?”

“My only duty right now,” he said, offering his arm again and wishing he could think of something humorous to say so he’d be treated to her trickling laughter, “is to help you feel at ease in Goldtree. So come along, Miss Wagner.” He set a much slower pace than usual for his rounds. The white-painted Congregationalist church sat next to the post office, facing Main Street. Thad nodded toward it. “I attended there last Sunday. But I’ll go to one of the other churches day after tomorrow.”

“You didn’t enjoy the service?” Her hands linked lightly over the bend of his arm, her steps matching his perfectly.

“Oh no, I enjoyed it very much. Reverend Wise is a fine preacher. But I figure, as sheriff, I oughtta spread myself out a bit—be seen in all the churches.”

They turned west at the corner and headed for Washington Street. Miss Wagner asked, “How many churches are there in Goldtree?”

“Three. Congregationalist, Methodist, and Episcopalian.” He slowed his steps, pointing to a large, iron-fence-enclosed area that stretched over half a block behind the Congregationalist church. “But all three bury their dead in one common cemetery.”

Miss Wagner shivered, and her fingers tightened. “It’s nice, I suppose, that they don’t feel the need to separate themselves in death, but . . .” She sped her steps, and Thad had no choice but to follow suit. “Cemeteries are cheerless places to me.”

He heard the sadness in her voice, and he wished he’d chosen a different route. But it was too late now. He tucked her hand against his ribs and ushered her as quickly as possible past the large cemetery. Still, he couldn’t resist posing a question. “You do know, don’tcha, that a cemetery’s just a resting place for a person’s shell? That the soul’s not there?”

“Of course I do.” She sounded a bit tart, surprising him. She blinked several times, making him wonder if the sharp tone was meant to cover another emotion. “But the headstone is a reminder that the person is no longer here . . . on earth. And that makes me sad.”

Thad considered her reply. He’d never spent much time at his mother’s graveside, and he realized it was for the same reason she’d stated. They reached the far edge of the cemetery, and he deliberately slowed his steps until he drew her to a stop in front of the Episcopal church. She might consider him forward, seeing as how they’d just met, but curiosity overcame propriety. With a little jiggle of his elbow, he asked, “Who’s no longer with you?”

Miss Wagner ducked her head, showing him the lopsided top of her straw hat. “My father.” Her face lifted, both sadness and a strange defiance showing in her eyes. “I hardly knew him. He died when I was four. But I still miss him.”

“Why, sure you do.” Thad missed his mother, even though she’d died birthing him. He missed knowing how it felt to have a ma. But he didn’t miss Pa. He hoped God would forgive his dark thoughts, but he figured it was better to be honest than lie about it. His pa had never given Thad any reason to miss him. “Did your father know the Lord?” His gut twisted, knowing the answer where Pa was concerned.

Miss Wagner nodded, the little daisies waving their petals in agreement. “Yes. Mama said he knew Jesus.”

“Then he’s in Heaven.” Thad tipped his head. “And will you be goin’ there one day, too?”

A soft smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Jesus is my Savior, so I’ll go to Heaven one day. And Mama says my father will be part of my welcome-home party.”

Thad imagined his mother waiting at the pearly gates for him. He liked the idea. Just as soon as he’d thanked his Savior for erasing all his sins, he’d get acquainted with her at last. “Well, you just think of your pa living joyous an’ at peace in Heaven instead of underneath an old gray tombstone, and it ought to perk you right up.” Her smile broadened, warming him even more than the sun beaming overhead. He put his feet in motion. “Let’s get goin’,” he suggested, “before the day gets away from us.”

He took her all the way to the edge of town, where the red schoolhouse with its bell tower marked the town line for Goldtree. School had let out the week before, and the place seemed lonely without children, so they didn’t linger. They worked their way south on Main Street, where Thad pointed out the feed and seed, the blacksmith shop, the bank, and the Methodist church—“The only church in town with a steeple,” she observed. They reached the corner where his office sat, butted up next to the druggist’s shop, and Thad paused.

“This here is my office.” He chuckled. “An’ my home.”

She cupped her hands and peered through the window. “You live here, too? It’s very small.” Dropping her hands, she faced him. “But I suppose, since you live alone, it’s adequate.”

Her comment, although empty of criticism, left Thad wishing he had a grand house instead of one small room at the back of a store. What woman would consider sharing such a cramped space? And just what was he doing, thinking about sharing the space anyway? He gave himself a shake. “Let’s see the rest of the town.”

He escorted her along the boardwalk, pointing to the community center and little grassy park across the street where, he informed her, he’d been told the townsfolk had picnics in the summertime. The mercantile porch roof loomed over them, so they stopped, and Thad threw his arms wide. “Except for Cora’s café and the barbershop, which’re right on past the mercantile, that’s the whole town.” He shrugged. “Well, the whole of the businesses anyway.”

Miss Wagner’s face puckered. “But it can’t be.”

He chuckled. “It’s a small town, Miss Wagner, but from what I hear, it’s growing.”

She skittered to the edge of the boardwalk and looked right and left, her actions almost frantic.

He stepped to her side. “What is it?”

“My cousin Sid . . . he wrote to me . . . and he said there was an opera house in Goldtree. Th-that’s why I came. To sing. In the opera house.”

Thad scratched his chin. “Opera house?” He looked up and down the street, too. Had he missed something? His eyes found the community building next door to the post office. “Maybe Sid meant you’d be singing at the community get-togethers. The mayor told me the town comes together on holidays, after harvest, and for celebrations like weddings or births.”

Miss Wagner shook her head, wringing her hands. “No, Sid specifically mentioned an opera house. He said his employer needed a good singer.”

Thad’s eyebrows shot up. “Asa Baxter?”

“That’s right.”

Thad smoothed his mustache with one finger. “I suppose it’s possible. I did hear that Asa’s put in an order for a load of timbers from the mill in Concordia. Maybe he’s fixing to build an opera house here in Goldtree.”

Miss Wagner worried her lip between her teeth. He couldn’t imagine why the opera house was of such importance to her. Still, he wished he could offer some assurance. He settled on the first thing that came to mind. “If you like to sing, though, the Congregationalist church has a choir. I’m sure they’d be pleased to have you join them.”

“Certainly. I’d love to sing in the choir.” She still looked sad.

Thad cleared his throat. “Well, Miss Wagner, I better head to my office now.” He wished their afternoon hadn’t ended on a sour note. “If you need anything else—trunks moved, questions answered—just come see me, will you?” He almost held his breath as he awaited her answer. He wanted to see her again. And again.

“I will.” She held out her hand, and he took it. Compared to his big paw, her fingers looked fragile and delicate. He took care not to squeeze too hard. “Thank you for showing me the town, Sheriff. I appreciate it.”

He opened his mouth to tell her he’d thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon and to ask her to just call him Thad. But before he could speak, a fractious voice intruded.

“Sadie, what’re you doing?”

7 

S
id hopped out of the wagon and stomped onto the boardwalk, making no effort to hide his irritation. He’d nearly worn himself out, unloading that wagon in record time and then hurrying the horses more than good sense dictated so he could get back and spend a goodly portion of the day with Sadie. Only to arrive and be told by the Baxter twins that she was out gallivanting around town. He’d spent the past hour searching, and now he’d finally found her . . . holding hands with the sheriff!

Sadie spun toward Sid. Her hand jerked loose of McKane’s, which suited Sid fine. Sadie took a step toward him. “Sid! You’re back early.”

He tried not to scowl, but it took every bit of control he had. “Yep. Finished quick so we’d have plenty of time to explore the town before suppertime.” He sent a withering glance in the sheriff’s direction. Why didn’t the man move on? “I still got to put away the team—been usin’ the wagon to hunt for you.” Even though he’d meant to be nice, accusation colored his tone. “But soon as that’s done, we can take that walk I promised you.”

Sadie’s face flooded with pink. “Oh, Sid, I’m so sorry. Sheriff McKane”—she sent a quick smile over her shoulder at the man who stood like a sentry less than a yard behind her—“gave me a tour of the town. I . . .” She ducked her head. “I forgot you planned to take me around.”

Sid gritted his teeth. She
forgot
about him? Him, the one responsible for bringing her to town? He jammed his balled fists into his trouser pockets. Odd how quickly his temper flared. He couldn’t ever remember battling a temper before. Of course, he’d never had competition for Sadie’s attention before. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to use a light tone. “Well, leastways, we can go to supper together, right?”

“Of course.”

Sheriff McKane stepped forward. “I showed Miss Wagner the north edge of town. She might like walking to the south—and then over to First Street so she knows how to find the doctor an’ the laundress.”

Sid bristled. Why’d the sheriff think he needed to tell Sid what to do?

Sadie looked up at Sid with a hopeful smile. “I would like to know the location of the town’s doctor.” She looked so sweet it took the edge off Sid’s anger. “But can we take the wagon?” She laughed lightly, steepling her hands beneath her chin. “My feet are tired from walking around town with Sheriff McKane.”

Sid needed to return the team and wagon to Asa’s barn—he wasn’t supposed to use it for anything besides business—but he didn’t want to refuse Sadie’s request.

“Sure. Let’s go.” He caught her elbow and propelled her toward the wagon. Grabbing her waist, he hoisted her aboard and then clambered up after her, nearly trampling her skirts.

“Sid!” She flopped into the seat, giving him a puzzled look. “What is your hurry?” Sliding over a bit, she adjusted her skirts beneath her and then checked her hat.

Sid flicked the reins. “Thought you were eager to see the doctor’s house.”

She huffed. “Not that eager.” She turned backward on the seat, and her elbow bumped him as she waved. “Bye, Sheriff McKane! Thank you again for showing me the town.”

“Giddap!” Sid smacked down the reins, and the horses obediently lurched forward.

Sadie grabbed the raised edge of the seat with both hands. “Sid Wagner!”

He ignored her indignant exclamation. “On the way, I’ll show you my place. Got me a little house on Second Street, not far from the business part of town.” He drove straight through the first two junctures without pausing to see if another wagon might be coming from the cross streets. Foolhardy maybe, but he wanted as much distance as possible between himself and Sheriff McKane.

When the horses reached the intersection of Main Street and Cottonwood Street, he guided the team east. After one block, he guided the horses to angle back south. The wagon frame creaked in protest at the rapid turn. “This here is the residential district of Goldtree. Not many fancy houses—mostly just regular, hardworkin’ folk in town. ’Cept for the banker, of course, an’ the doc.” Asa Baxter had a big, fancy house, too, but since it was well outside of town, he didn’t mention it.