What Once Was Lost (36 page)

“Well then, eat your candy while I fix lunch. It won’t be long.”

Tommy chomped off a bite, but he found no pleasure in the sharp taste. He chewed. Swallowed. Busy sounds came from the work station, which faced the corner of the kitchen. Tommy took a chance that Mr. Jonnson wouldn’t see and shoved the licorice deep into his pants pocket. His fingers encountered the bills Dresden had given him, and he started to shake.

Within seconds Mr. Jonnson was at his side again, placing his hand on Tommy’s head. “No fever, but you sure aren’t acting like yourself.”

Tommy pushed Mr. Jonnson’s hand away from his head and stood. He squared his shoulders and stuck out his chin, determined to bring his trembling under control. “I’m fine, I told you. Just groggy from … from fallin’ asleep like I did.” He tipped his head. Was Dresden hearing him? He raised his voice. “Nothing’s wrong.”

The clock across the room ticked the seconds, but no other sound intruded.
Tommy released a light sigh of relief. Surely Dresden had gone. He wouldn’t risk being caught by Mr. Jonnson. He was safe now. Safe.

He said, “Except I’m hungry.”

Mr. Jonnson laughed. A short, not-too-sure laugh. “All right. We’ll have us our sandwiches. And then—”

“Then tomorrow I wanna go to church,” he blurted out. He needed to talk to somebody. Cora. Or maybe Wes. Somebody who could keep a secret. And they’d be at church.

“I thought you didn’t want anything more to do with church.” Mr. Jonnson sounded plenty confused.

Tommy scrambled for a sound reason to go. “Well, but you, um, you told me people don’t come close to me ’cause they’re scared.”

“Yes, I told you that.”

Would Mr. Jonnson figure out Tommy’s strange behavior was caused by a mighty fear? He hurried on. “So I shouldn’t hold it against them, right? Miss Willems wants me to go, so …” He ran out of reasons.

Once more Mr. Jonnson’s hand found Tommy’s head. He tousled Tommy’s hair—the gesture so kind and loving, tears spurted into Tommy’s eyes. He sniffed hard.

“All right, Tommy. I’ll take you to town tomorrow.”

Relief sagged his knees, and he sank back into the chair. “Good. Good. Thanks.” Tomorrow he’d get Cora’s or Wes’s advice. Together they’d figure out what to do about Dresden. There wasn’t any reason to be scared anymore. So why did his hands keep shaking?

Chapter 35

The train rumbled into the Brambleville station early afternoon.

The moment the conductor gave permission to disembark, Christina reached for her bag, but Mr. Dunnigan took it as well as his own small valise. She smiled her thanks and preceded him from the passenger car to the boardwalk.

Beneath the cloudless sky, he placed the bags on the walkway and removed his gold watch from his vest pocket. A flick of his thumb opened the cover, and he gave the face a quick look before clicking it closed and returning it to the little pocket. Watching his simple motions, Christina experienced a deep ache in her breast. How many times had she seen Papa check the time in the very same way? Loneliness for her father, and for his watch, welled in her breast.

She swallowed a wave of sadness and forced a cheery tone. “Do you want to arrange for your return trip while we’re here?”

Mr. Dunnigan stooped to lift the bags again. “I prefer to get settled in the hotel first. I’m uncertain as yet when I’ll return to Kansas City.”

Christina sent him a curious look. “You have business in Brambleville?”

A secretive smile toyed beneath his mustache. “Perhaps.”

She longed to question him, but eagerness to see how Louisa had fared in her absence overrode curiosity. “Very well. The hotel is this way.”

As they walked toward the hotel, Saturday shoppers paused with crates or packages in hand to stare at Christina. Her face flamed. She could well imagine what they must be thinking—Miss Christina Willems being squired down Main Street by an unfamiliar gentleman. The gossip wheels would spin madly until she had an opportunity to explain Mr. Dunnigan’s presence in town. She smiled and nodded greetings, feigning an ease she didn’t feel, and her discomfort rose with each blank stare or frenzied whisper.

At the hotel entry Mr. Dunnigan returned Christina’s bag to her. “I see a livery farther up the street. Do they rent conveyances?”

Christina nodded. “They have a nice four-seat buggy often used to transport grieving folks to the cemetery east of town.”

To her surprise he laughed. “Ah. Well, I’m sure it’s quite nice. But I was thinking more along the lines of a sturdier vehicle. A buckboard or something similar to a good Missouri Springfield wagon.”

“You’d be more than welcome to make use of the poor farm wagon,” Christina offered. “Our wagon and horses are at the livery. Wes, a young man who resided at the poor farm, is employed there. If you tell him I sent you, he’ll hitch the horses for you and will probably even offer to drive you wherever you’d like to go.” Curiosity rose above propriety. “What is it you wish to explore?”

“Spoken in true female fashion.” He laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling. “You remind me of Parmelia, always wanting to know what I’m up to. But being left out of an occasional secret does not harm, and it might eliminate disappointment should things not work the way one plans.” His cryptic reply confused Christina further. “I’ll go in and get settled now. But as soon as I’ve secured a room and put my bag away, I’ll be ready to visit Mrs. McLain’s sister-in-law. Where will I find you?”

“I stay at the Beasley Boardinghouse, on the corner of Main and Maple.”

He nodded. “Very well—Main and Maple. Until later, then. Thank you again for your kind assistance.”

“You’re welcome. Good day, Mr. Dunnigan.” She waited until he entered the hotel. Then she turned to hurry to the boardinghouse. Louisa would surely be relieved to be set free from her duties in Mrs. Beasley’s kitchen. She’d only taken two steps when someone blocked her pathway. She let out a little cry of surprise, then broke into a relieved smile. “Sheriff Garner … Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Willems. Been watching for you.” His somber expression chased away her momentary relief.

“For me?” Her pulse scampered into a frenzied beat. Had something happened to one of the poor farm residents in her absence? She shouldn’t have stayed away so long! “What’s wrong?”

“Plenty.” He took her elbow. “Come with me.”

Her bag fell from her hand. “But—”

Mr. Dunnigan strode up on her other side, his expression stern. “What’s the meaning of this?”

The sheriff scowled at Mr. Dunnigan. “This don’t concern you, mister, so step aside and let me do my duty.”

Mr. Dunnigan bristled. “And is your ‘duty’ accosting women on the streets?”

Sheriff Garner’s face turned nearly purple. “My duty’s questioning possible thieves, and that’s just what I’m fixing to do.”

Christina’s jaw dropped. “Thievery?”

Mr. Dunnigan held out one hand toward the sheriff. “See here, sir. I—”

The sheriff pointed at Mr. Dunnigan. “Mister, I told you to step aside.” He began herding Christina in the direction of his office.

Christina looked helplessly over her shoulder at Mr. Dunnigan.

He moved to the edge of the boardwalk, uncertainty on his face. Then he picked up her discarded bag and disappeared into the hotel. Fear rose in Christina’s breast. What would happen to her now?

As Levi approached the churchyard Sunday morning, a tingle of awareness rolled across his scalp. Something was awry. People stood in little clusters, all talking excitedly in hushed tones. Tommy must have sensed it, too, because he sat up straight and bobbed his head as if testing the air.

The boy groped for the brim of the brown suede hat Levi had purchased and tugged it low on his brow. Then he hunched his shoulders, slouching forward and burying his chin in the open collar of his jacket.
Tommy’s odd behavior increased Levi’s feelings of impending doom. Something had the boy spooked, but he’d fallen into another sullen silence and refused to talk. Levi hoped some of his poor farm friends might be able to get through to him.

He tugged the reins to halt the horses, then propped his foot against the brake to keep the wagon from rolling forward. “All right, Tommy. Here we are, so—”

“You comin’, too?”

The abrupt question took Levi by surprise. Tommy knew Levi didn’t attend service, so why would he ask such a thing? “I’ll wait for you at the livery, same as always.”

Tommy popped out of his hiding pose and shook his head wildly. “Huh-uh. You come, too.”

Levi’s stomach clenched. Clearly the boy was troubled. He wanted to help Tommy, but sit side by side with the same kind of folks who’d ridiculed his family, rejected his father, and held him and Mor accountable for Far’s death? “Tommy, I—”

“Mr. Jonnson!” Mrs. Creeger, with Cora in tow, scurried to the side of the wagon. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you.” She peered up at him the way a drowning man would view a rescuing hand—concern and relief mingling together.

Levi gestured to the groups gathered on the grassy churchyard. “What’s got everyone so excited?”

Her lips pursed. “Shameful, isn’t it? Jay took one look and went to fetch the reverend to talk sense into them. They’re all blathering about the sheriff arresting Miss Willems.”

Tommy let out a frightened gasp, and Levi jammed the brake’s lock into place with an angry thrust. Forcing a calm tone for Tommy’s sake, he looked at Cora. “Take Tommy, will you?” He waited until the young woman caught Tommy’s hands and helped him down from the seat. Then he hopped down and moved close to Mrs. Creeger. “Tell me everything.”

Cora led Tommy to the shade of the towering maples growing at the edge of the churchyard, away from the wagon and from the busybody groups. It wouldn’t do the boy any good to hear what folks were saying—that Miss Willems showed up in a fancy gown and paraded up Main Street with some dandy like she owned the town. Cora wanted to defend Miss Willems, but fear held her silent. Once these folks discovered her sin, they would surely turn on her the same way they were now turning on Miss Willems.

Beside her, Tommy crossed his arms over his chest and shivered. Cora put her arm around him. “You doin’ all right, Tommy?”

He shook his head. He wore a new hat—one just like Mr. Jonnson’s. He looked handsome in it and very grown up. But he sounded like a little boy, whispering so soft Cora had to strain to hear him. “Gotta talk to you. About somethin’ real important.”

She leaned down, putting her ear close to his mouth. “What is it? Go ahead an’ tell me.”

Instead of speaking, Tommy slowly pushed his hand into his britches pocket. When he pulled it out, he held a clump of rumpled bills. One fell from his fingers and fluttered to the grass at their feet.

Cora’s jaw dropped, and she quickly snatched up the bill. “Tommy!” In her surprise she forgot to keep her voice soft. “Where’d you get this money?”

Tommy clutched the wad of bills to his chest and rocked nervously in place. “Shh!”

But it was too late. Some folks close by had already turned to stare. Another ripple spread across the grounds, and more people turned their heads, looking at Cora and Tommy. She wrapped her arms around him, shielding him and the money with her body.

A man separated himself from one small group and ambled toward Cora. She recognized Hamilton Dresden even though he’d gotten a fresh haircut and wore a different suit—a gray pinstripe in the latest style. But his leering grin hadn’t changed. She gritted her teeth.

“What’cha got there, boy?” Dresden asked.

Tommy burrowed his face into the curve of Cora’s shoulder. She tightened her grip on him. “Leave him be, Hamilton Dresden. Tommy’s no concern of yours.”

As if he were a politician making a speech, Dresden swept his arm around, indicating the crowd that was surging toward them. “These fine folks might think otherwise.” He reached for Tommy’s shoulder. “C’mere, boy. Show these people what you got there.”

Levi Jonnson strode across the grounds and pushed Dresden’s hand aside. “Leave the boy alone.”

Dresden backed up, hands upraised. “Easy now. Not lookin’ for a tussle. Just tryin’ to get at the truth.”

“You wouldn’t recognize the truth if you tripped over it.”

Cora secretly cheered Mr. Jonnson’s bold statement. But Dresden only smiled in an insolent way and slipped his watch—Miss Willems’s silver watch—from his pocket and flicked the case open, closed, open, closed. He said in a sly tone, “I ain’t the one tryin’ to hide somethin’.” He nodded in Tommy’s direction. “Why don’tcha see what the boy’s got there if you’re so interested in the truth?”

The muscles in Mr. Jonnson’s jaw clenched, but he turned his back on Dresden. Very gently he took hold of Tommy’s arm. “Tommy?”

Tommy’s whole body turned stiff. Cora instinctively pulled him tighter against her. Somehow Tommy’s fear—Tommy’s secret—got tangled with her own. She cried, “Can’t you just leave us be?”

Mr. Jonnson’s eyes looked sad, but he shook his head. “I need to see. Tommy …”

Tommy’s tears formed a wet splotch on Cora’s dress. Ma Creeger scurried over and put her arm around Cora’s waist. She whispered in Cora’s ear, “Let go, Cora. It’ll be all right. Just let go.”