Brides of Iowa (17 page)

She looked out the window, beyond the yard, and through the trees. The distant hillside was dotted with headstones and makeshift crosses. Mama rested there.

“God, I don’t know what to do. Help me understand. When I was a little girl and I was hurt or angry—or I couldn’t understand why things were the way they were—I could always talk to Mama.” Tears slipped down her face. “She helped me sort out my confusion when nothing in the world made sense. I wish she could tell me what to do about my feelings for Gideon.”

She stroked the purring kitten in her lap, and Daisy pressed her head against Tessa’s hand in a gesture of unfeigned love and complete trust. It reminded her of the times she’d spent as a little girl snuggled beside her mother.

“God is our refuge and our sanctuary, honey girl.”

As a child, she hadn’t known what those words meant. Maturing into adulthood, she walked the paths of adversity, grief, doubt, and confusion. When she found herself alone, the promises in God’s Word offered sweet assurance that she could run to Him for sanctuary and comfort.

She lifted her face toward heaven. “God … Father … I love You.”

Tessa glanced at the clock ticking away on the parlor mantel. Two fifteen. Plenty of time to run to the mercantile for a few things.

She slipped into her room to wash her face and tidy her hair. Her appearance in the small mirror over the washstand disturbed her. Since she no longer needed to save her money to pay rent for the winter, perhaps she could purchase a new hair ribbon or even a bit of lace to add to her collar. Such an extravagance might take some getting used to.

It wasn’t hard to find Miss Pearl. The woman’s humming could be heard coming from the front porch where Tessa found her sweeping.

“Miss Pearl, I’m going to the mercantile. Is there anything you need?”

Miss Pearl’s broom halted as the woman placed a finger on her chin. “Yes, I need some laundry blue and a couple of pounds of coffee. Tell Martha to put it on my account. And if there is anything you need for your baking here, put that on my account as well.”

Tessa hesitated a moment. “I thought I’d make a gingerbread cake for tomorrow if that would suit you. But I’ll need some ginger and nutmeg.”

“Gingerbread cake is one of my favorites—and Gideon’s, too. Go ahead and get the spices, dear, and anything else you think we might need for the next few days.” The woman resumed her sweeping and humming.

Tessa patted her pocket to ensure her own money was safely tucked away before stepping down the cobblestone walkway that led to the white picket gate. She might even purchase a hair clasp if it wasn’t too costly.

The mercantile was a pleasant walk down the shady street and around the corner. Miss Pearl had told her of a shortcut through the back alley, but it was such a beautiful day that she had no desire to cut her errand short.

The house on the corner had hollyhocks growing beside the porch. The deep pinks drew her attention. She wondered if Gideon would find a hair ribbon that color becoming on her.

She turned the corner and proceeded down the main street through town. Just ahead, a door opened and a man exited an office. Tessa slowed her steps. The man had his back to her, but she still recognized Mr. Behr. He appeared to be speaking to someone behind him still inside. When the other person followed Mr. Behr onto the boardwalk, Tessa halted. She had no desire for a confrontation with Mr. Kilgore, given his ugly parting words to her the previous evening. The alley that bordered the building the two men exited provided a place for her to slip behind a stack of crates. She pressed her back against the wood-sided wall and waited for the men to pass. But they didn’t pass by. They stopped right at the entrance of the alley, not ten feet from where she stood. Tessa peeked through the slatted sides of the crates that concealed her.

The sound of Mr. Kilgore’s voice sent prickles up her arms. “I can assure you the Standridge brothers will see things my way. Once the sawmill is ours, the only other enterprise we lack is Maxwell’s Mercantile.”

“You’re so certain of your persuasion with both brothers Standridge?”

A mirthless chuckle preceded Mr. Kilgore’s reply. “Every man has his price, Mr. Behr. Ben and Earl Standridge both resent splitting their profits with each other. Once I convince each of them separately that his brother intends to sell his portion of the sawmill, it will just be a simple matter of drawing up a bill of sale. We’ll take over that business for a fraction of what it’s worth. Taking ownership of the sawmill will give us the advantage with the land speculators.”

Mr. Behr stood stroking his beard.

Tessa sucked in a slow, silent breath and held it. Neither man looked in her direction, but the guilt that plagued her earlier over listening to the men’s conversation at the hotel now swelled with each passing moment.

“And young Mr. Maxwell?”

Tessa’s lungs ached to expel the breath she held, but Mr. Behr’s question locked it in place.

Mr. Kilgore struck a match on the bottom of his boot and lit his cigar. “Gideon Maxwell is in for a surprise. I’ll let you know when I have the details worked out.” He puffed on the cigar. “As soon as that mapmaker, Feldman, gets those altered land grant maps back to us, we can set our plans into motion. I just hope they’ll look like the originals.”

“You have nothing to fear, Mr. Kilgore. I’ve seen some of Mr. Feldman’s work. He is truly an artist. The people with whom I work recommended him, and they are the best at what they do.”

“Good. I don’t settle for anything less, and I don’t allow anyone to stand in my way.”

Gideon nudged the gelding through a wooded area and picked his way around a patch of scrub pines. His stomach rumbled a complaint, reminding him that breakfast was long past, but he pushed on. He hoped cutting through the woods would shave a couple of hours off his journey.

The memory of last night dogged him every mile. The alarmed expression on Tessa’s face kept intruding across his mind. He couldn’t run from it. “I practically forced myself on her. No wonder she ran off.”

The horse twitched his ears and snorted like he agreed with every word.

“Why did I do that? If some guy had taken liberties with Martha, I’d have punched him in the nose.” He pulled off his hat and wiped the sweat from his face with his neckerchief.

The warbling of a meadowlark provided the background music as Tessa’s image slipped easily into his thoughts again. Her face felt exactly as he thought it would—velvety soft, like the supple kidskin gloves he sold in the store. No, softer than that. That loose wisp of hair that had grazed her cheek resembled the silk threads he remembered his mother using. The radiance of the sunset behind her had given her an ethereal glow. How could he
not
lean down to kiss her?

“But she turned her head and pulled away. Why did she do that?”

As he emerged from the stretch of woods, the road lay just ahead. He nudged the chestnut gelding into a mile-eating lope.

Minutes later, as he crested a hill, a group of three men with cumbersome-looking equipment appeared in the distance. One set a boxlike apparatus atop a tripod while the other two proceeded farther across the meadow with their gear.

“Surveyors.” What were they surveying way out here?

S
he was acting so strange.”

Gideon listened as Martha told him about Tessa’s visit to the mercantile.

“She looked at several different ribbons but didn’t buy any. When I asked her if she was looking for a particular color, she acted like she didn’t even hear me. Then she left the things she’d purchased for the boardinghouse sitting on the counter and walked out the door without them. I had to run after her to give them to her.”

While it wasn’t unusual for Tessa to be reserved and quiet, Martha’s description of her behavior weighed heavily on his heart. Was she upset by the way he’d tried to kiss her the other night?

He took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. “Maybe she was just distracted. She might have had a lot on her mind.” He made his voice sound as nonchalant as possible, but his heart grieved.

What if she was having second thoughts about working in such close proximity to him? He’d kick himself if his impulsive action ruined everything. Maybe she just didn’t feel the same way about him as he felt about her. His gut wrenched at the thought. As soon as he stopped by the livery to see Cully, he’d make a visit to the boardinghouse.

Martha refilled his coffee cup. “Ted’s mother and I plan to work on my wedding dress today, unless you need me here.”

Gideon ran his finger around the rim of his cup. “I have two errands to run this morning, so if you could mind the store for about an hour, I’d appreciate it.”

He descended the stairs and slipped out the back door of the storeroom. The cornflower blue sky promised a beautiful day. He hoped it would be beautiful in more ways than just the weather.

Gideon walked around the boardinghouse to the backyard where Miss Pearl was hanging freshly washed sheets on the clothesline. “Morning, Miss Pearl.”

The woman smiled through the clothespins held in her teeth. She removed the wooden pins and hugged Gideon. “You’re back a day early. Did you get the stove parts?”

He grinned. “Sure did. I stopped at the livery and told Cully. He said he’d have them hooked up by this afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s just fine. But I don’t suppose you came here to pass the time with an old lady like me.” She gave him a sly smile. “Tessa’s in the kitchen.”

“You’re beautiful, Miss Pearl, even with clothespins sticking out of your mouth.”

She flapped her hand in his direction. “Oh, mercy sakes! Go on with you.” She returned to her task, humming a tuneless ditty.

He took the porch steps two at a time and rapped lightly on the back door. When Tessa opened the door, he pulled his hat off and drew in a shallow breath.

She was a vision, even with strands of her sandy hair refusing to stay within the confines of their pins. Her cheeks were flushed a becoming shade of pink, but apprehension filled her eyes.

“Good morning, Gideon.” She stepped aside so he could enter, then filled a coffee cup and set it on the table for him.

He took that as a good sign. At least she was willing for him to stay as long as it would take him to drink the coffee. “Morning.” He lowered himself to the chair and watched her at the stove.

Her green-checked apron enhanced her hazel eyes as she placed a plate of fragrant cinnamon rolls on the table.

“Mm, thanks. Those smell great.”

Silence hung between them as words eluded him.

Tessa appeared nervous, like she had something on her mind but didn’t know how to begin. “Gideon, I have to tell—”

“Tessa, I need to—”

They exchanged uncomfortable smiles.

“There’s something I heard—”

“Tessa, about the other night—”

Tessa twisted her fingers then gestured in his direction. “You go ahead.”

Perhaps if he let her air out her feelings, he might be able to better address them. “No, please. You first.”

She turned her back and picked up the corner of her apron. “There’s something I need to tell you, but I’m afraid when I do you’ll think ill of me.”