Within the Candle's Glow (19 page)

Footsteps broke into her thoughts. Carrie came up the platform steps. “Sorry I’m late walkin’ over. Mama had me help her carve the last slab of venison from the deer Walter shot.”

“That’s all right.” She set the broom behind the counter, keeping the straw head upward so it wouldn’t bend out of shape. Her actions also protected it from Victor, Walter’s black cat. The cat loved to chew on the stiff dried bristles and throw up all over the wood floor. “We’re suppose’ to finish sortin’ the new goods stacked here behind the counter.”

“I’ll do it. Deer got into a basket of corn in the garden earlier and chewed on a bunch of freshly picked cobs. Mama chased him with the broom.”

“Oh my, the last I saw, he was under the porch. I’ll go catch him and lock him in the barn.”

“He hid under Walter’s corncrib.” Carrie grinned. “He’s smart.”

“I hope Walter don’t get upset ‘bout my dog. I’ll hurry back.”

After the wedding, Walter had moved all of them into his spacious house behind the store. It was handy to live close by because Carrie could help in the store on Saturdays. And Ella relieved Walter every afternoon, which gave him a few hours to hunt or do repairs.

#

When Ella returned to the store, Carrie’s face appeared the color of parchment, and her hands shook.

“That
man
wants to talk to you.” She pointed at Josh standing near the leather goods. “I don’t like him,” she whispered. “He reminds me of my dead pappy—a bad man.”

“Josh? When’d you come back?” She walked closer, noting his ragged coat and the leanness of his tall frame. He had gained his strength while living with the Chesley family for two weeks and then disappeared without a word of thanks to anyone.

“Three days ago.” He squatted on boot heels and examined a stack of cut leather on the bottom shelf. “I seen you from a distance, once or twice.” His broken fingernails were stained with dirt. “Had to come back.”

“
Had to
?” She started to ask him where he had been, but thought better of it.

“Why do you sound angry?” Josh stood, laid a foot square piece of cured leather on the top shelf and faced her. His tattered hat hung by a thin rope around his neck. His heavy lidded, brown eyes traveled over her face, as if searching for an answer.

She held herself rigid, ignored his direct question, and replied, “Josh, no one understood when you up an’ left. Are you feelin’ better?”

He shrugged.

“Carrie said you want to speak to me?”

“Yes. I been gone a bit over three months.” He plucked some straw from her hair, opened his dirty fingers, and let it flutter to the worn boards at their feet. His black eyes followed it and then flashed back to her face. “Straw in your hair? Whatcha been doin’? Rollin’ in the hay?”

“I had to get my dog out from under the corncrib.” Annoyed at his question, she smoothed her hair, tucking in loose ends. “Are you lookin’ for a certain item?”

“No.” He towered over her and leaned closer.

She backed away. “Then I’ll go help Carrie.”

His lanky, six-foot height intimidated her. There was a new coarseness in his eyes.

“Wait. Came to tell you Miles got me to help him build stalls this week—since the barn raisin’s done. I been ‘round—just ain’t come to visit.” He cleared his throat, and the tip of his tongue slid over chapped lips. “Ore ain’t plentiful no more. Findin’ gold is harder. I aim to settle
here. Not leave.”

“That’s … nice.” She tried to back up, but the shelves put a stop to the attempt. His proximity smothered her. The odor of his unwashed body disgusted her.

“Miles does things back’rds in my sight. He tolt me he put up the barn first—to store things for their new house.”

“And for the new school,” she added. “He’s ordered a shipment to be brought by wagon from Terminus.”

“He’s rich … eh?”

“Cain’t say as I know ‘bout that. It’s
his
business.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed, but then he said, “Miles an’ his wife plan a barn dance—as a thanks to the menfolks—sometime in October.” He paused. His narrowed eyes searched her face. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Something told her where the discussion would lead. The edges of the wood shelves dug into her waist and back. “Josh, I
must
go help Carrie.”

“Ella Des … sa.” Josh drew out the syllables in her name. “I come to ask you to the dance.”

“I’m sorry. I must say no.” She slid sideways and gained the open space at the end of the aisle.

“You ain’t goin’ with nobody else, ‘cause you ain’t known of it ‘til, now. I’m
the first
to ask.”

“It’s still no.” She felt sick to her stomach.

His beardless jaw tightened. “I see things changed for Velma.” He raised his thick brows. “She’s got herself hitched. Courtin’ was fast. Did he know she were rich?”

“Velma an’ Walter are happy. She’ll forever be grateful for the gold.” She wanted him to leave and was on the verge of telling him. She now understood Carrie’s colorless face. Josh’s whole demeanor was different from when he was recovering at Naomi’s house.

He shoved past her and stopped by the front door. He accidently kicked the rock holding it open and nudged it back into place with the toe of his dirty boot. Dried red clay streaked the floor.

“Ella … Dessa, I reckon you might change yer mind ‘fore time of the dance. You
won’t
be goin’ with no one else.”

Before she could process the threat in his words, he was gone. She turned on her heels and caught sight of Carrie.

“Did you hear him?” Ella whispered.

“He’s got meanness in him.” Carrie slipped around the counter. “It’s
hidden. Be aware of the likeness to a rat’ler. Don’t let him touch you.”

“I won’t.” She frowned. “Is it foolish to say I feel there’s a bug crawlin’ up my back? Did he
threaten
me?”

“I think so.” Carrie’s light-hazel eyes filled with a hint of alarm.

“Well, I won’t egg on his attention. That’ll take care of it.” She lifted her chin and walked around the counter. “We’ve work to do.”

“Josh kept proddin’ me with questions ‘fore you came.”

“Like what?”

“Like, if you
liked
anyone special, an’ if Samuel hung around. Should we tell Walter?”

“What can he do? Josh causes you and me to feel uneasy. How
would
you explain it to someone?” She picked up a feather duster. “We’re both actin’ silly. We’ve got shelves to clean.”

The thud of heavy boots on the front steps caused her to expect Josh.

But it was Jim entering the store. His smoky gray eyes still reflected grief caused by his father’s death. But it was the tightness in his expression that made Ella catch her breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m in need of someone who’ll listen to me.” He placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward. “That person is
you
. I won’t take much of your time. Then I’ll go on up the mountain to my
duties
.”

She beckoned to Carrie. “I must step out for a few minutes. Can you let Walter know when he comes in?”

“Yes.” Carrie gave Jim a timid smile.

“Jim, let’s climb the slope behind the store.” Ella lifted her woolen shawl from a wall peg. “Walter built a nice bench up there.” She loved the idea of being with him but felt deeply puzzled by his gruff demeanor.

Why didn’t he talk to Sophie?

He opened the back door for her and shoved his hat into place. His fingers pleated a crease in the crown. Neither of them spoke as they hiked the footpath Walter cleared for his new wife. The path ended at a narrow bench, situated where Velma could slip away from household chores and sit in peace and quiet.

Cooler air brushed Ella’s cheek and swirled away to make the leaves flutter on nearby trees. The scent of dried foliage rode on the wind.

She sat on the bench and tightened the brown shawl about her shoulders. An opening in the canopy of trees let the sun brighten the spot, and she appreciated the direct warmth. Jim ignored the bench and
paced. His boots kicked and disturbed the forest floor.

“Jim, what’s wrong?”

“Your mother died. So I figured you’d understand some of what I’m going through. I miss Papa so much I feel like I’m in
agony
.”

His deep voice quivered, reminding her of an injured child.

“Jim, I don’t have words to ease that type of pain. It all takes time.”

He sat near her on the bench, knocked his hat to the ground, and leaned forward—elbows on knees. His next words were muffled.

“What?” She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me. I’ll listen.”

With a groan, he hunched his shoulders.

“I didn’t hear you.” Her cheek touched the shirt covering his muscular shoulder. “Say it ag’in.”

He jumped to his feet and faced her. “I’m
angry.
I’m mad at God for taking Papa. I hate Duncan for disappearing, just when we need him! He literally left the mule and plow
in the field
, grabbed his stupid knapsack, and bolted. He didn’t say goodbye.”

“I knew he left.”

“Mother cried when I told her. She left the wool she was carding and went to her room.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jim took a deep breath. “I’m jealous Samuel manages to escape to the school most of the day. I see Mother’s sad face. Our house has gotten more lonely as the days go by. Peggy cries. Anna won’t talk. I want to
run away
.”

“Don’t leave.” She knew Jim wrestled with his father’s death. The pain manifested itself in his short temper with Samuel.

“What else do I do—if not run?” He snatched his hat from the ground and flung it at a slender poplar.

Her eyes noted where it landed. “Runnin’—that’s Duncan’s way. You’re much stronger.”

“Then
what
do I do?” Despair hovered in Jim’s unsettled gray eyes. “I came to you, Ella, because I know you understand the hurt death brings. You lost your mother when you were little. What do I do with the rage
drowning
me?” He held his callused hands out in front of him. “I could almost rip down trees with these hands! I want to do something physical to fill the void inside my heart.”

She patted the bench. “Sit with me?”

He sat, stiffened like a statue, and stared straight ahead. His hands
clenched on his thighs. “Now what? Me sitting—will this help?” His tone sounded rude and sarcastic.

“God will give peace, in the measure you need. Pray … ask him to help you.” She wrapped her fingers over the top of his right fist.

“Ella, I’m not much on praying. That was Papa’s thing to do.” Jim’s hand shook under hers. “That’s a part of me you don’t know. God seems far away.”

“He’s not. You’re the one resistin’ Him.”

His hand turned and clasped hers. His red-rimmed eyes stared at their hands.

“Ella, when I was younger, I was afraid to pray—knew God would see temper bubbling under the surface of my skin. So, I tried harder to control it. It did no good.”

“Jim, by prayin’ about your temper, you’d get His
help
… not His dislike. Don’t you know that? Duncan’s away from your
control
, but not your prayers. He mightn’t never come back. Let God deal with him.” She took a deep breath and continued, “Perchance, he ain’t wrong in what he does. He’s jest diff’rent from you. He makes his own way in life. The sting of your papa’s death … you cain’t change. Let God wash it away, like a waterfall pushes aside woodsy trash.”

Jim squeezed her hand. “I’m not worthy of God’s attention. I’ve been too bitter.”

“No! Look at it this way. Samuel’s keepin’ busy. We’ve talked a few times. He tries to find humor in things. He’s helpin’ Konrad teach, so he don’t brood over things. That’s his way of dealin’ with sorrow.”

Jim snorted in disgust and glared at the sloping woods in front of them.

“Oh, I’m keeping busy. I shouldn’t even be here. You see … I wish Samuel would be
busier
at work around the homestead. Papa built up the place, knowing he had
three
older sons. I’m only one of them.”

“Jim, you know Samuel has yearned to teach. Workin’ a farm ain’t in his blood, ‘though he loves these mountains. Tillin’ the soil’s not what God put in his heart. I know he helps you with chores.”

“Then I’m left to handle the rest alone? The girls can’t help. Phillip’s too young, and he’s got unusual problems—” Jim shook his head. “Our little brother will never talk like he should.”

“He’s a smart boy.”

“His problem adds to Mother’s burdens. I watch her stand by the ridge and stare down the slope to the cove. There’s sadness in her. She’s
empty and not bubbling with the sweetness and joy we used to see. My sister, Grace, has her own family, with Quinn and baby Emma to care for. Mother’s lonely. What do I do?”

In order to get his attention, Ella tugged on his hand. “What if she’s not
needin’
help? Have you asked her? Maybe you’re anguishin’ daily over sorrow she has in control. Inez is a strong woman. Prayer and thoughts of Heaven will see her through the bad times. The pain’ll ease after a time.”