Brides of Iowa (47 page)

“Johnny Frasier, Billy Snipes, and William Curtis, you boys stop that this instant!”

Everett spun in the direction of the reprimanding voice. Tillie stood a few yards away, a basket over one arm and the other hand on her hip. Mortification strangled him when he realized she’d witnessed the whole thing.

Tillie took several steps toward the boys, who glanced back and forth for a way of escape. “I have a good mind to take a switch to all three of you, but I’m sure your parents can do a better job than I can.” She narrowed her eyes at the trio. “Don’t you know who this man is? He’s a hero. He saved two people from certain death last year when the boardinghouse caught fire and was burned in the process. You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Now, go on home, all of you. And you’d better tell your parents what happened here today, or I will.”

The boys raced off, and Tillie turned apologetic eyes on Everett. But he was in no mood for her pity. He snatched his clipboard, jumped down off the wagon, and stalked toward the depot door.

“Everett, wait.”

He didn’t stop. Instead he pushed a crate aside and sought refuge in the back office. He sucked in a noisy breath through clenched teeth. The words
Just go away and mind your own business
stung the tip of his tongue, but he bit down and held them at bay. His face still flamed, and he kept his back to her.

“Everett, I’m so sorry.”

“Why?”

He heard her sigh. “Those boys need to learn some manners.”

He turned just enough to see Tillie standing in the doorway between the front room and his office. “They’re children. They don’t know any better. Some people go through their entire lives without any heed to the rudeness of their words.”

He heard her soft footsteps on the wooden floor behind him. When she touched his elbow, he flinched as though she’d poked him with a sewing needle.

“I’m sure their parents will have them apologize.”

He almost swung around to confront her but halted and reversed his motion, facing away from her once again. “I would rather you’d just stay out of it. I don’t want them to apologize. I don’t want their parents to know what happened. I just want to be left alone.”

Everett’s terse tone nailed Tillie in her tracks. Was he implying
she
needed to learn manners? The boys’ cruel taunting had stirred her ire, perhaps because for more years than she cared to count, she’d heard similar unkind remarks aimed at her own father. As a young girl, she’d retaliated in angry defense of her Da, but she remembered his tender admonition for her to
“‘be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving.…’”
Learning to forgive those who said hurtful things to someone she cared about was still a struggle for her, but intentional meanness was something she couldn’t abide.

She bit her lip. Judging by Everett’s insistence that she stay out of it, she’d overstepped the bounds of propriety, and he’d considered her admonition of the boys rude. Vexation chafed at her, and she huffed, mentally counting to ten before her temper got the better of her. Squashing the retort that perched on her tongue, she drew in a slower, quieter breath and set her basket on the desk beside a skinny gray cat. A quick prayer for a gentle spirit winged its way heavenward, and she lowered the volume of her voice almost to a whisper.

“I apologize if I was out of line. Perhaps you’re right. Since you were the one the boys insulted, I should have let you handle it. I’m sorry.”

As she hoped, Everett turned halfway toward her, presenting his left side as always, and leaned closer. “I beg your pardon?”

She repeated her apology, watching Everett tip his head in her direction as she did so. Her quiet response to his sharpness produced the desired effect, as the stiffness in Everett’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he set his clipboard aside. “It’s not your fault. I need to get used to things like that and learn to ignore it.”

The resignation in his voice pricked her. As time went by, maybe God would show him what his scars symbolized to her. Meanwhile, all she could do was be a friend. How did one go about extending the hand of friendship to someone who continually hid himself away?

She kept her voice soft and gentle. “Everett, you are a fine, unselfish, courageous man. I pray that you can one day see that for yourself.”

He gave a snort. “I see myself every day when I have to look in the mirror. Everything those boys said is true. One can hardly fault them for stating the truth.”

Mild surprise raised her eyebrows, and she tilted her head to one side. “I never would have taken you for one to wallow in self-pity.”

Apparently forgetting his abhorrence for letting people view his scars, he spun to face her, storm clouds gathering in his eyes. “When you’re disfigured for the rest of your life, then you can pass judgment on me. Until then, I must ask you to leave now. I’m busy.”

She stood her ground. “Poor Everett. He’s the only person in the world who ever had to deal with difficult circumstances. It strikes me as odd, though, how a man can willingly perform such a selfless act and then feel so sorry for himself afterward. Didn’t you think before you ran into that burning boardinghouse?” She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling and tapped her chin with one finger. “Hmm, perhaps entering a burning house isn’t a good idea. I might be injured, or perhaps even killed. No, I think it’s more prudent to let my father and Miss Pearl get out on their own.”

Everett’s face flooded red, and he clenched his fists. He opened his mouth but instantly clamped it shut again. Rage narrowed his eyes into slits, and his chest rose and fell as though he’d just finished a footrace. “Are you quite finished?”

She ignored the wrath that sharpened the lines of his face and dipped his eyebrows into a deep valley. Instead she extended her hands, palms turned up in entreaty. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly what you
didn’t
do. Without any thought to your own safety and regardless of the possible consequences, you acted in pure selflessness. What you did is the noblest thing a man can do.”

She lowered her hands and took a half step toward him. Predictably, he lifted one hand to cover his scars. Her impulse was to pull that hand away, but she resisted the urge and dipped her head in a demure fashion, eyes closed and prayer winging from her heart. One day she hoped to help him forget about hiding, but that would have to wait until another day. First things first. “May I ask you a question?”

He snorted again. “Do I have a choice?”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. “No, you don’t.”

The gray cat on the desk poked its inquisitive head into her basket, investigating the contents. She absently ran her fingers over its head, and the animal leaned into her touch.

“Everett, obviously the only thing on your mind when you ran into the burning house was finding your father and Miss Pearl and getting them out. You didn’t think of anything else. But if you had, would you have stopped? Would you have stood out in the yard and waited for your father and Miss Pearl to come out? How would you have felt after the fire was out and you found their bodies in the burned rubble?”

Everett’s shoulders rose and fell as he blew out a sigh. “That’s more than one question.”

This time she didn’t try to conceal her smile. “I see the flames didn’t completely destroy your sense of humor; they only singed it a mite.” She waited for him to react to her flippant reference to his ordeal. He sent her a long, menacing glower, and she wondered if he planned to throw her out. Finally, he shook his head and looked away.

He reached out to stroke the cat, who immediately transferred its attention to Everett with a rumbling purr. A full minute went by before he answered. “I have to admit, during all those days I was lying in bed over at the doctor’s house, I did think about my father and Pearl and how glad I was they were alive and safe. The pain was so intense at times, I wished I would die and be done with it. I didn’t understand why God let me live. I still don’t.”

Grief over his statement turned her heart over. She’d never experienced anything close to what he’d been through. She started to touch his sleeve but drew her hand back, fearful that her touch might cause him to recoil. Instead she added her fingers to stroking the cat under its chin.

“You’re right, I don’t understand either.” She tipped her head and sighed. “God brought you through the fire and let you live because it was His will. I don’t think we have to understand. All He expects us to do is trust Him.”

Everett jerked his head up as though her words startled him, then turned from the desk to stare out the window. His tone lost its hard edge. “Trusting is something that doesn’t come easily for me. I’ve been learning to trust God more, but I suppose I’m not very good at it yet.”

A smile, born of hope, found its way to Tillie’s lips. “Just look at this dirty, half-starved creature. Why does God let it live?”

Everett turned back to look at the bedraggled cat. He shrugged and shook his head. “He just showed up this morning and acted like he owned the place.”

Countless times, Tillie remembered Da instructing her or one of her siblings to perform a kind deed for someone else to take their mind off their own troubles. By focusing on another’s needs, she forgot about whatever it was that caused her displeasure. Even if she couldn’t understand the purpose for a hard lesson at the time, more often than not, Da’s wisdom drew a lasting picture, indelibly etched in her heart. She hoped her words wouldn’t anger Everett.

“Living or dying isn’t up to us.” She stroked the cat’s ears. “God put all of us here for a purpose. Sometimes that purpose might be to save the life of another person. But such a deed can take on several forms, and we are sometimes used by God in ways we’d never expect. I think this poor cat found its way here because you need him.”

A muffled sound that might have been a laugh emerged from Everett. “I think you’ve misplaced your good sense. Why would I need a mangy cat?”

The cat closed his eyes in obvious bliss at the attention he was receiving. She suspected Everett might catch the lesson better from God’s whisper than from her lips, so she merely smiled and retrieved her basket. “I have errands to run, and I’d best get to them. Take care of that mangy cat.”

E
verett shifted in the wooden desk chair and finished adding a column of figures in the ledger. He squinched his eyes closed and rubbed the tight muscles in the back of his neck. It had been a good day, business-wise, with the addition of two more local accounts. He stepped to the window and adjusted the shade to allow the waning afternoon light to fall across his desk. He preferred keeping the shade drawn during the day, allowing only the slender shafts of sunlight that sneaked around the edges of the shade to illumine his desk. The murky shadows suited him much the way a nocturnal animal shunned the daylight.

Ben Kiefer poked his head into the office door. His straw-colored hair, dampened by perspiration, stuck out like a signpost pointing in a dozen directions. His flushed face evidenced how hard he’d been working. A faded blue chambray shirt hung loosely from his lanky frame. It came as somewhat of a surprise to Everett that he liked Ben. The young man, though a bit unpolished, might be considered a rustic bumpkin by Baltimore’s society standards, but he gave Everett an honest day’s work for a day’s pay. And he didn’t stare at Everett’s scars or look away as if repulsed by them.

“Mr. Behr, I finished loading the wagon for tomorrow’s run to Clermont.”

“That’s fine, Ben. Did you lash down the canvas? Those clouds to the west look like it might rain overnight.”

Ben nodded. “Yes sir.” The young man dragged a sleeve across his face. “I’ll stop by the livery on my way home and tell Cully I’ll need Joshua and Jericho first thing in the morning.”

The two big black geldings Ben mentioned were steady and strong, and an asset to his growing business. He recalled Ben’s amusement when Everett introduced the young man to the four sturdy draft horses, all with biblical names. “You don’t think you’ll need the team of four?”

Ben shook his head. “No. This load isn’t that heavy, and the load I’m picking up isn’t a full load. Besides, I think Elijah and Solomon need an extra day of rest. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to have Cully take a look at Elijah’s right front shoe. I had to pry a stone out of it, and I think the shoe is a little loose.”

Everett nodded his approval. “Thanks for seeing to that. Oh, wait a minute.” He reached into the bottom desk drawer. “Here’s your pay.” He pushed an envelope across the desk. “I put a little extra in there. You drove two runs already this week, and the run tomorrow is keeping you busier than we expected. When you get back, we need to talk about you coming on full-time.”

The smile on Ben’s face indicated his pleasure at the unexpected bonus. “Thanks.” He picked up the envelope and shoved it into his back pocket. “I plan to be on the road by daybreak.” He plunked his hat in place as he headed for the door.

“Good night, Ben.” Everett listened to the young man’s departing footsteps across the front room followed by the opening and closing of the outside door.