A Bride in Store (29 page)

Emma didn’t look contrite. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to eat his.”

Ma scowled. “Since she’s touched them, I suppose it’d be wrong to put the candy back in the bin.”

Emma beamed, and Will tried hard not to smile at his sister’s underhandedness. He didn’t want to encourage her.

“We could buy more, Ma.” Emma looked up into the air. “Maybe he’d eat red ones. I like red ones too.”

“What color don’t you like, young lady?”

Emma stuck out her tongue. “Yellow.”

“Get ten yellow ones.” Ma watched her trudge away, then turned to him with a frown bigger than Emma’s. “Does John like yellow gumdrops?”

Will laughed. “I don’t think he likes gumdrops at all, Ma.” He
walked after Emma, glancing back at his mother. “But I’ll pay for them.” Six dimes would be worth getting a minute with Eliza. He only wished he could see John’s face when he opened up a bagful of the one candy he despised.

Emma had already scooped out the yellow ones, so Will grabbed five sticks of rock candy and threw them in the bag. “These are for John, not you.”

His sister rolled her eyes and clamped the bag to her chest as he pushed her into the slow-moving line.

Shadows of fatigue decorated Eliza’s face despite the happy crinkles around her eyes. Did this many people normally come into town on Tuesdays, or had he forced all his customers here by closing early?

If only they could have worked together. But the more he wanted her by his side, the less it seemed likely to happen. Once again, all he could offer was himself, and she’d truly find him inadequate now that she had this fancy new store. And she hadn’t even trusted him enough to tell him about it.

She’d never want to leave a successful store—and it seemed she didn’t want him involved in her life either—not that she needed his advice, considering her store already outshone his. He forced himself to stop clenching his teeth.

When Emma made it to the front of the line, Eliza glanced up at him and then toward the clock. “Did you close early?”

He shrugged. “I needed food.”

She put a hand to her stomach. “I think I forgot to eat.”

“You’ve been busy.” He pushed the bag of candy toward her. “And to think, yesterday you thought I’d stolen all your customers.”

She grimaced and ducked her head to look in the bag. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t purposely hurt me.”

“Never.” He reached out his hand, covering hers, waiting for her to look at him. “I’d never do that.” He’d forget about a life with her before he hurt her.

The feel of her skin under his hand recalled the sensation of her cheek while removing her stitches, her soft hair between his fingers as he’d plucked away a feather, the warmth of her forehead against his palm in the butcher’s alley.

It was hard to be mad at her when she felt so . . . so . . .

“There’s sixty gumdrops and five sticks of rock candy in there.” Emma leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Can I eat one now?”

Eliza stared at his hand on hers.

“You have to ask Ma first.” He snatched his hand away and pulled out his money clip.

Emma cradled the bag as if they’d take it from her if Ma said no.

“Might you be able to . . . come to dinner after work?” Eliza fingered the dollar he’d pushed toward her. At the sound of a woman’s impatient sigh behind him, Eliza’s scar stood out sharply against the pink infusing her cheeks. She swiped his money off the counter, dropped it in her box, and counted out change.

He scratched behind his ear. “Unfortunately, I’ve got dinner plans.” After turning down the Graves’ last invitation for dinner, he’d realized he really should have accepted, and did so when they came into the store that morning. He had to tell Nancy his affections lay elsewhere, that whatever he’d once felt for her had been surpassed by his feelings for another.

But maybe he was wrong to hold out any hope of winning a woman who couldn’t confide in him about the significant changes in her life that would affect him and—

“Ahem.” The throat-clearing woman behind him pressed closer. “Excuse me, but I haven’t got all day.”

Eliza gave him a little smile. “Maybe another time?”

He swallowed. “Perhaps.”

Her smile slowly flattened. “All right.”

“Come on, William.” Emma threaded her hand in his and tugged.

He tipped his head toward Eliza, keeping his gaze on her despite
being dragged away by his sister. The phlegm-plagued lady took his place at the counter, obscuring Eliza from sight.

The desire to walk back and tell her he’d cancel his dinner plans with Nancy and her family almost stopped him. Almost.

Despite leaving him, Nancy had never kept anything from him. She’d told him when she’d been upset about how his career goals weren’t coming to fruition. She’d told him about her decision to pursue the widower who was in town visiting her brother.

He’d thought Eliza kept nothing to herself, since she’d seemed to be frankness personified. But evidently she wasn’t always forthright.

Emma dropped his hand. “We ready to go?”

Ma frowned and touched him lightly on the shoulder. “What did Eliza say to you to put that look on your face?”

“Nothing.” Will closed his eyes. “She told me nothing.”

Chapter 19

Will drummed his fingers. He’d recalculated and recounted. Money was definitely missing from his cashbox—like so many times before.

He’d always figured his poor math skills caused the discrepancies, and Axel had never failed to find the mathematical mistake or recall an unrecorded purchase. He’d always given him that look, subtly blaming Will’s trouble with numbers and letters.

Had the discrepancies never been his fault?

What if Axel was still around? What if his trail had gone cold because the posse hadn’t thought to check for any evidence that he’d circled back, returning to Salt Flatts?

If Axel was in town, he’d probably steal something he knew Will would never check on—Nancy’s engagement ring. Axel had often pushed him to sell the opal and diamond ring belonging to Ma’s grandmother and rolled his eyes whenever Will refused.

Will clomped to his room, turned on a lamp, and kneeled beside his cot. He fished for the box containing Nancy’s old letters, but only felt cobwebs. He lay flat on the floor and stretched his arm toward the wall. There it was.

He dragged it across the floor and blew off the dust before opening the lid.

No ring.

Of course it was gone. But how long ago had Axel stolen it?

Will leaned back against his bed and let the air rush out of his lungs. He’d been stupid not to think of Axel the moment the sheriff asked about petty thefts. A complete imbecile for ignoring his childhood buddy’s waywardness. A hundred times the fool for trusting people so easily.

What would his mother say when she learned someone had stolen it? What would he present to a woman—Eliza, perhaps—if he ever got the chance to get down on one knee again?

He pinched the bridge of his nose until he was able to think straight. What else had Axel stolen? He’d have to talk to the sheriff, but was this an old theft or a new one? If Axel was responsible for the current rounds of thefts, maybe he’d be captured soon.

And if Axel was caught and the store auctioned . . .

Will dropped the box onto his cot. Returning to the front, he walked the aisles, scanning everything of value. The guns on the gunsmithing counter were accounted for. The five plain wedding bands glinted on a velvet cushion under their glass box.

A normal thief would have stolen things in plain sight.

But if it was Axel, why hadn’t he pilfered the Waller gang’s loot, taken everything out of the Men’s Emporium’s cashbox, perhaps robbed a bank, and then dashed out of town a long time ago?

Mrs. Langston.

With few friends, she’d most likely hide her son no matter the consequences, and Axel probably wouldn’t leave until he felt his mother was taken care of or he convinced her to leave town with him.

How could a man who cherished his mother turn out so badly?

Will grabbed a lantern and closed up. The best time to catch Axel at his mother’s would be after visitors were no longer expected. If he saw any sign of his friend, he’d go for the sheriff. If not, he’d get what information he could out of Mrs. Langston.

Because if Axel was still around, he needed to be captured before he caused anybody—especially Eliza—any more harm.

Turning the wick up in her cramped back office, Eliza blinked bleary eyes, trying to focus on the numbers in front of her. If she didn’t have this order in the post by tomorrow, the store would soon run out of toys and candy. She ought to put in another order for china too, and inventory the rest of the kitchen section.

Despite the tug to sleep sitting up, she smiled. The throng of customers the past few days had forced her to clean, organize, and tally her sales late into the night.

Business was better than she’d hoped!

God, thank you
so much for things going so smoothly. I’m sorry
that I didn’t trust you to help me for
so long, and then you helped me even though I
didn’t ask.

Leaving Irena alone so many nights in a row didn’t sit well, but the woman insisted she’d been alone before and could be so again.

Besides, it would only last a few more months. If business continued this steadily, she could hire a clerk soon.

A whine, seemingly from the street, prickled the hair on her neck. She quit writing and listened.

The ticking of the clock beside her grew louder with each second.

Nothing.

She released the breath she’d been holding and scanned the catalog for new items. What would a child or parent with a little extra change find irresistible?

Boards squeaked overhead, but she refused to pay them any mind. Working in a huge store at night with only the Kansas wind for company would make anyone jumpy.

“Uff.”

Eliza froze, but every single nerve twitched in her body. That wasn’t the wind. Or a coon, or any other creature she could blame but one.

What she wouldn’t give to have Will working behind a gunsmithing counter now.

Lowering the lamp’s wick ever so slowly, she looked around for something to use as a weapon. Hadn’t she locked up? Maybe the wind had pushed a door open. But that other sound . . .

What to do? Hide, or yell in hopes of scaring the intruder away?

Lord, help me.

She’d never fought anyone in her life, and if she ran, her cumbersome petticoats would make her easy prey.

But she couldn’t just sit and wait. A thief would head straight for the office in search of a cashbox. The Jacob’s ladders, teacups, and hand towels out front wouldn’t interest someone looking for quick cash—and she wouldn’t hand her money over to another criminal.

If only she’d made it to the bank before they closed. She unlatched the cashbox as quietly as possible, pulled out the bills, then shoved them under a stack of old papers she’d collected to wrap fragile items.

The unmistakable scuffle of a footstep made her tremble. The trespasser had likely finished traversing the dark maze of tables, leaving only the staircase between him and her.

She grabbed the cashbox and squared her shoulders, clamping her jaw to stop her chattering teeth. With a quick shove, she opened the door and walked forward, searching for a silhouette. “Halt, or I’ll shoot!”

A curse called attention to the shadow running toward her. She threw the box at what was likely his face. A dull thud, a groan, and then coins scattered across the floorboards.

“Help! Intruder!”

The silhouette stumbled.

Turning, she took one step toward the back but stopped midstride and ducked between two tables. Without a light, she’d not be able to unlock the back door—and she didn’t have the key.

Did anyone live in the apartments above the nearby stores? Would anyone be working this late at night?

Why hadn’t the man continued to barrel after her?

Was all the heavy breathing hers alone?

She held her breath, working to hear over the thumping of her heart. Keep silent or scream?

A creak behind the stairwell made her throat clog. She couldn’t see the shadowed man’s features with the moon behind them both. Could he see her? She should’ve turned the lamp all the way down and gotten accustomed to the dark before leaving the office.

“Where’d you go?” The man’s angry voice floated high above her several feet away. Did she know that voice?

Did he think her stupid enough to answer?

Which of her patrons had decided she’d be easy pickings? Losing money again would be nothing compared to a wicked man catching her in the dark.

“There you are.” The merriment infusing the gravelly voice stopped her heart. “And I thought you were going to shoot me.”

With all her might, she pushed over a table full of dishware. Ceramic pieces broke and scattered across the floor.

Screaming, she lunged for the irons on the table next to her and lobbed them as hard as she could into the blackness.