A Basket Brigade Christmas (17 page)

Though she had hoped Matthew’s character would transform with age, the only thing she’d seen improve was his ability to fool those around him. One minute he could be charming and the next minute become self-serving and hostile. Even though Sarah had rejected the idea of a romantic relationship with him long ago, he continued to pursue her, avowing that she would one day change her mind. Sarah remained certain she would not. Ever.

Last year, when his older brother joined the army, Matthew had done his mother’s bidding and remained behind to operate the depot hotel and help her in the café. Mrs. Slade had insisted one son was enough for any mother to sacrifice. Those who didn’t agree with Mrs. Slade’s way of thinking had taken to labeling Matthew a mama’s boy or coward, and he’d become more and more unpleasant over the past year. He was like a pot on a fire—capable of boiling over at any moment.

Matthew leaned close and reached for the trays. “I’d do anything for the prettiest gal in town. Johnny told me you were going to be helping the ladies of the Basket Brigade today. I wasn’t sure he knew what he was talking about, but I’m glad he was right.”

When his hand remained atop her own, she pulled away. “I don’t have time to visit with you, Matthew. There are still several trays of bread and rolls in the buggy. I need to retrieve them before they’re ruined.”

“Don’t you worry one more minute. I’ll go get the trays. I don’t want you out in that freezing rain. A person could catch a terrible cold in this weather.”

She shuddered when he winked at her. How she longed to tell him she’d get the trays herself. Yet refusing his help would create an argument—and she didn’t have time to match wits with him.

Clara Wingard bustled into the room carrying a large kettle of stew. “Did you count how many kettles of stew we have coming, Sarah? If we don’t have at least twelve, we’ll have to be careful we don’t overfill the bowls. Nothing worse than running out before the last soldier gets his share.”

Sarah ran her finger down the list. “There are thirteen kettles promised, so we should be fine if everyone arrives as expected. With this weather, I’m worried some of the ladies may not want to get out.”

“Pshaw!” Clara waved her arm in a dismissive motion. “Don’t you worry ’bout the ladies of the Basket Brigade. The weather’s never stopped them before and it won’t stop them today. You mark my word—they’ll be here, and they’ll be on time, too.”

Sarah glanced toward the ticket counter, where the huge clock was clicking off the minutes. “Mother’s list says everyone should be here to divide the food and fill the baskets by quarter to five. Is that going to give us enough time?”

“Your mother’s been in charge of the Basket Brigade since we first started eight months ago, and quarter to five has always worked before.” Clara pointed to a table along the far wall. “Grab the end of that table and let’s move it over by the other one. We need to leave enough space so there’s a walkway between the tables where the ladies can work.”

In spite of the cool draft that pervaded the room once she’d moved away from the stove, perspiration dampened Sarah’s hands. “I never thought to ask Mother how we’re to serve everything.”

If her trembling voice revealed fear and a lack of confidence, Mrs. Wingard didn’t let on. Instead, she stepped toward another table. “No need to fret. We use tin cups to serve coffee, and they work fine for serving soup and stew, too. Once the boys have finished eating, we pass through a final time and pick up the dirty cups and utensils.” As Sarah and Clara set the last table in place, the depot door opened and several ladies trundled inside, their arms laden with their dinner offerings. Clara nodded toward the group. “See? I told you they’d be here on time.”

Nellie Hanson was in the lead as the group marched forward to place their food on the table and rid themselves of their dampened wraps. Once they’d hung their cloaks on hooks near the stove, the women gathered in a huddled group and stared at Sarah. Finally, Nellie cleared her throat. “We’re waiting to hear our assignments.” She pointed toward the tables. “Tell us where you want us.”

Sarah momentarily met the inquisitive stares of the women before glancing at the clock. This wasn’t a time to be indecisive or fearful. If they didn’t begin their work, they wouldn’t be prepared when the train arrived.

Inhaling a deep breath, she summoned her courage and appointed several women to work each of the tables. “Divide the stew into ten kettles so they won’t be too cumbersome to handle. We’ll send two kettles to each of the five cars. Several of you need to take care of the bread tables.” She forced a slight smile before picking up a stack of the baskets and carrying them to the tables. “These can be used for the bread items. Please line them with the cloth napkins and have another lady follow behind you with butter, jam, apple butter, and any other preserves.” After a quick survey of the tables, she noted numerous bundles of dried fruit. “Miss Wilhoite, would you and your sister, Emma, please take charge of the dried fruit? You can divide it into individual servings—perhaps wrap it in brown paper and twist the top or tie it with string.”

“We’ve been doing this for eight months, Sarah. Just assign who is to handle each of the food items.” Before Sarah could respond, Emma pursed her lips in a tight knot and pointed to the fruit. “I don’t think there’s enough fruit for sixty-five packets.” She perched her hands on her hips and raised up on her toes. “Who else was supposed to bring dried fruit?”

Janine Brown waved. “I brought the rest of the fruit, Emma. I put the crate over by the stove when I hung my coat then forgot to set it on the table.”

Emma lowered her arms, but her eyes shone with disapproval. “You know we always place our food on the tables. There isn’t time to scurry around the depot looking for baskets and crates, Janine.”

“Now, now, sister.” Maggie patted Emma’s arm. “You don’t need to make such a fuss. I keep telling you that faultfinding is not a spiritual gift.”

“Well, if people would do as they’re supposed to, I wouldn’t be required to point out their errors.” Emma lifted her nose high in the air when several of the ladies chuckled, whispered comments, and nudged one another.

Sarah circled around one of the tables and positioned herself in the center of the room. “Ladies! Let’s keep to our work so we’ll be ready when the train arrives.” Every woman was needed, and Sarah didn’t want Emma stomping out of the depot with hurt feelings.

Emma cleared her throat and pointed toward the small depot kitchen. “The coffee’s not going to be ready if you don’t get out to the kitchen and set the pots to boiling. That’s your mother’s job, so that makes it your task today.”

Sarah noted Emma’s smug smile as she hurried toward the door leading into the depot restaurant. Right now, there wasn’t time to dwell on Emma and her negative attitude. Besides, she had needed the reminder about the coffee. Sarah rushed past the scarred wooden tables covered with frayed checkered cloths and a multitude of mismatched chairs awaiting the next trainload of passengers.

In the kitchen, the aroma of brewed coffee wafted through the warm room. Three pots sat atop the large wood cookstove, and several kettles of water had been hung in the large brick fireplace. Surely Mrs. Slade hadn’t made all this coffee for the hotel guests and the few passengers who would eat in the depot restaurant. From the information Sarah had gleaned from her mother, the only passengers who ate in the restaurant were soldiers who worked as aides on the trains and the few soldiers able to disembark the train. There was another train due a few hours after the five-thirty departed, but it was far too early to prepare coffee for those passengers.

Without warning, Matthew approached from behind her. “I thought you’d forgotten about the coffee, so I went ahead and put it on for you.” His lips curved in a lopsided grin. “Mother said if I had free time, I should be helping clean the hotel, but I didn’t want you to be without coffee when the train arrived.”

Sarah cringed. Why did it have to be Matthew who’d come to her aid? “That was kind, but your mother is right. You shouldn’t neglect your own duties.”

Matthew jerked his head toward the stove. “I expected a sweet thank-you. Instead, you’re taking my mother’s side.” He cast a doleful look at her. “I thought you’d be pleased when you saw that I’d prepared the coffee. Without me, it wouldn’t have been ready by the time the train arrived.”

Guilt momentarily pierced her, but she knew Matthew far too well. By helping her, he hoped to win her favor. While she appreciated his assistance, she wasn’t going to be manipulated.

“Thank you, Matthew, but in the future, you need not trouble yourself. I will handle it.” She was careful to offer only a fleeting smile. “Since you’ve already taken care of the coffee, I’ll return to the depot and help the ladies with the baskets. Some of the ladies from Lucy’s sewing circle will soon be arriving. I need to make certain they don’t have any questions for me before the train arrives.”

Sarah doubted Lucy’s group would need any instruction from her. They’d been delivering their comforters, knitted socks, and other handmade items for many months now. As a special way of ministering to the wounded soldiers, the ladies in town had even taken to writing letters to the boys—notes they hoped would add a bit of cheer and thank them for serving the Union. Several of the soldiers had now begun a regular correspondence with some of the ladies who had taken them under their wings and considered them surrogate sons.

Matthew nodded toward one of the tables in the café. “I thought you might at least sit and have a cup of coffee with me since I went to all this trouble.”

She clasped a hand to her bodice and gave a slight shake of her head. “Whatever would the other ladies think if I sat here drinking a leisurely cup of coffee while they’re hard at work? That simply wouldn’t be fair—or proper. We’re all here because we want to support our boys, and when that train pulls into the station, I know they’re going to be thankful for that hot coffee you’ve made.”

His frown made it clear that her response hadn’t pleased him.

A
t the sound of the clanging bell and hooting train whistle, Sarah’s stomach tightened in a knot. If she was going to step in for her mother, she’d need more than good intentions. She’d need help from the Lord.

With a quick wave, she motioned to the workers. “Ladies! Could we gather in a circle for a word of prayer before the train arrives?” The women hurried toward her and joined hands. After glancing around the circle, Sarah met Emma’s aloof stare. “Would you lead us, Emma?”

The older woman arched her brows then gave a nod. “Lord, You know we have our work cut out for us getting all these boys served some food afore the train leaves the station. Help us reflect Your love, and give us the speed, kindness, and courage we need to complete our mission this evening. Amen.” The simple prayer whooshed from her lips in one long breath. She drew close to Sarah and lowered her voice. “That courage part was for you. When you walk onto the platform, take a deep breath and paste a brave smile on your lips. Don’t cry. They don’t need to see tears; they need smiles of encouragement and laughter. That’s the best medicine. Except for my stew, of course.” Emma grinned before she turned to resume filling a large basket with the tin cups she’d be using to serve.

Moments later, the train chugged into the station. Gripping the handles of her basket with enough force to turn her fingers white, Sarah crossed the station platform.

When she neared the train, a young corporal with broad shoulders and a wavy shock of chestnut brown hair blocked the steps. Though his full lips curved in a slight smile, he didn’t move to permit Sarah entry. Instead, he remained steadfast and watched as the other women flooded through the station doors and onto the platform. When he’d completed his inspection of the crowd, he looked down at Sarah. Disappointment shone in his hazel eyes. “Mrs. McHenry is assigned to my car. Isn’t she going to be here today?”

“I’m Sarah McHenry, her daughter. My mother’s health prevented her from being present today, but I’ll do my best to stand in for her.”

He reached for Sarah’s hand and assisted her up the steep metal steps. “Let me welcome you aboard, Miss McHenry. I’m Corporal Jacob Curtis, assigned as the aide to assist the wounded riding in this car. I’m also here to provide any help you may need while you’re on board.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Corporal Curtis.” Her hands trembled as she shifted the basket. “I must admit I’m quite nervous. This is the first time I’ve come to help with the Basket Brigade.”

His eyes twinkled. “Then I’m pleased I’m the one assigned to accompany you. You can set your mind at ease about serving these men. Since leaving the station in Cairo, they’ve been talking about you ladies and the fine food they’ll receive here in Decatur.”

“Are you the one who told them about the food, Corporal Curtis?”

He chuckled and traced his fingers through his thick crop of hair. “I plead guilty, but I have to admit it pleases me to give them something to look forward to. I enjoy bringing a smile to their faces, even if it’s only for a short time.”