An Inconvenient Match (25 page)

“You look lovely tonight,” Harrison said, his gray eyes sliding over her, an appreciative look on his face.

“Thank you. I must say you look quite dapper.”

“As a successful lawyer should.” He winked. “Not that I’m successful yet, but I must look the part.”

Agnes appeared at her elbow. Round-faced, dark curly bangs clinging to her moist forehead, the proprietor looked exhausted. Perhaps Abigail would inquire about a job waitressing here. She’d like nothing better than to escape the Cummingses’ house. But needed money until school started.

Once they’d ordered, Abigail spread her napkin on her lap. “I’m sorry your practice is slow. New Harmony doesn’t have much call for lawsuits.”

“True. I’ve written a couple wills. Handled a divorce.”

“Really?”

“No one from here. Folks like to keep that quiet. Not that they succeed.” He took a sip of water. “I yearn for a trial. A case I can sink my teeth into.”

“You may need the big city to practice criminal law. I’m surprised you didn’t stay in Boston.”

“Eventually that’s my goal. My grades weren’t stellar so no law firm hired me. I’ll get some experience here—or if that fails to materialize, somewhere else—then return.”

Harrison wouldn’t be staying. Fine with her. She wanted to teach. She thought of Wade. He’d wheedled his way into her heart. She could teach anywhere. Even Boston.

“How’s our friend Wade?” Harrison asked, cocking a brow.

Her stomach knotted. She’d had such hopes. “He’s not my friend. Quite the opposite.”

“How so?”

Before she thought of the ramifications, she’d told Harrison about discovering the Cummingses had prior knowledge of the railroad’s interest in Wilson land. The whole ugly story.

“You might have grounds to litigate.”

“Sue?”

“If I can find cases to establish precedence, we’d have a good chance of recouping some, if not all, of that money.”

Her hands fidgeted with the napkin in her lap. That money could release Joe from the burden of his gambling debts. That money could enable her and Ma to purchase a small house.

That money…would be wrong.

As much as she despised what the Cummingses had done to her family, Scripture forbade believers from suing a fellow Christian. “I’m sorry. I can’t sue the Cummingses.”

“Why not? If they’ve wronged you—”

“God will have to take care of it.” Abigail believed in handling things with the talent she’d been given, but she’d never knowingly take action that opposed God’s Word.

Harrison gaped at her, as if she’d lost her mind. “If God was going to take care of it, He’d have done so by now. Think of the money you’d get if the court sided with us and found the Cummingses guilty of swindling your family.”

The temptation for revenge slid through her. Heart pounding, her hands fisted in her lap. To see the Cummingses get what they deserved. To see them suffer as her family had suffered. To recoup the Wilson losses warred inside her.

She sucked in a calming breath then slowly released it. The advice wasn’t in God’s will. The place she wanted to be. “Money isn’t everything.”

Harrison leaned back in his seat. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Abigail. That faith of yours is more than talk. Most folks’ principles collapse when money’s in the mix.”

“That’s greed.”

“Yes, ma’am, it is. I suspect lawyers would go out of business if not for greed. Greed, not money, is the root of all evil.” Grinning, he lifted his glass of water. “Here’s to greed.”

“The reason I must refuse your offer.”

And the reason she wouldn’t be going to Boston.

Harrison Carder might be joking, but she hadn’t seen evidence that he possessed a faith in God that guided his life. And he certainly hadn’t hesitated to suggest suing his friend. Perhaps evidence of his own greed.

As the food arrived, pan-fried bluegill for her and steak for Harrison, Abigail resolved to concentrate on the evening, to put the Cummingses’ deceit behind her. For now. If she didn’t, she’d end the meal with a stomachache.

Perhaps she could interest Harrison in worship services. “I’d like to invite you to attend First Christian. Our pastor’s sermons and the fellowship bless me each week.”

Eyes wide and wary, he looked ready to refuse, but then nodded. “That would give me a chance to get acquainted. Let folks see I’m one of them.”

Not exactly the reason she had in mind, but who knew what would come from hearing God’s Word?

“What time?” he asked, slowing the fork to his mouth.

“Church is at ten. Sunday school at nine.”

“I should be able to make ten.”

She smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He arched a brow. “Will you save me a seat?”

“Of course. I’ll introduce you to my family.”

“Perhaps I can talk one of them into suing.”

“Not an acceptable topic in church with the Cummingses sitting across the sanctuary.”

He laughed. “Suppose not. Don’t worry, dear lady. I won’t embarrass you.”

Whatever motive Harrison had in mind for coming, she suspected he wouldn’t appreciate hers. She wanted him to meet more than her family. She hoped he’d meet God.

Chapter Fifteen

W
ith sweat slipping beneath the brim of his Stetson, Wade slammed the hoe into the soil, chopping at weeds springing up in the garden. Nothing he did eased his anger at his father’s treachery. What he’d done to the Wilsons, to Abby, tore at him. The backs of his eyes stung. She hated him now.

She’d turned to Harry for solace. He supposed he couldn’t blame her, but when he’d found Harry sitting beside Abby and her family in the pew yesterday, he’d wanted to grab him by his starched collar and escort him out the door.

Not the attitude a churchgoer should have toward a visitor. But Harry’s jaunty little wave across the sanctuary had Wade grinding his teeth. Harry knew perfectly well Wade didn’t appreciate his attentions to Abby. The man would go to any lengths to get close to her. After church, he’d let it slip—no doubt on purpose—that he and Abby had enjoyed a lovely evening the night before.

Smooth, good-looking and intelligent, Harrison Carder probably seemed like a good catch compared to most of the bachelors in this town. And Abby wasn’t wasting time getting to know him better.

Seth rounded the corner of the house and moseyed toward him with the easy gait of a long-legged youth. “Can’t stay to work on those beds. I’m meeting Betty Jo at the café for a glass of lemonade,” Seth said, all smiles.

The boy’s joy at seeing his girl reminded Wade of himself at that age. That girl was now a full-grown woman and couldn’t stand the sight of him.

“I’ll be in the shop first thing tomorrow to sign the paper for that apprenticeship.”

Wade leaned on his shovel, his back to the house. “Sounds good.”

To him. But Abby would not agree.

Within seconds he discovered how right he’d been. Because Abby had been standing right behind him, the frown on her face proof she’d overheard Seth.

A flush on her cheeks, her blue eyes icy, Abby was lovely, regal and angry. He’d keep his distance, though he yearned to pull her to him, to cradle her in his arms. But he could at least warn her about Harry.

By the time he’d repeated his concerns about trusting Harry, her frown turned into a scowl. “You have the nerve to warn me about Harrison.”

“My father wronged your family. But I didn’t have any part of that. Can we at least talk? See if we can find a way to get past this?”

“Too much has happened. I can’t trust your dad or you.”

He stepped away. “Is there anyone you’d allow yourself to trust?”

“Don’t try to turn this mess around and make it my fault.” She pushed by him, stomping toward the stable.

He dropped the hoe then followed her in.

She’d taken a bridle off the wall and now carried it to where Beauty waited, neck extended over the stall.

“What are you doing?”

Nose in the air, she ignored him, slipping the leather over the mare’s ears, or trying to.

“Let me do that,” he said.

She huffed and moved aside.

With the bridle in place, he led Beauty out of the stall. “Where are you going?”

“Your father gave me permission to use the rig. If that’s not all right with you—”

“Of course it is.” Did she think he’d deny her anything?

As he backed Beauty between the staves, Abby waited, arms folded, tapping her toe. Whatever she planned to do, she couldn’t wait to be on her way.

What was she up to that she needed a conveyance? Did she have a clandestine meeting with that so-called friend of his? At the prospect jealousy roared through him and brought the words out of his mouth. “Are you meeting Carder?”

“Where I’m going is none of your concern.”

“If something happened and you didn’t return, I wouldn’t know where to look for you.”

She planted dainty hands on the hips of the riding skirt she wore. “If you’re worried about your conveyance—”

“No! I’m…worried about you.”

“Your concern is too little, too late.”

The truth pressed against his lungs. He’d lost Abby’s regard, if he’d ever had it. He’d failed to heal the feud. He didn’t have the money to make restitution for the railroad deal and his father insisted they didn’t have cash lying around. Wade knew in that at least, his father spoke the truth.

Grabbing Beauty’s bridle, he walked the horse out of the stable, and then assisted Abby into the rig. “Be careful,” he said, gazing up at her.

“I’m always careful.”

He suspected this impulsive woman didn’t know the meaning of the word. If she was meeting Carder, he knew she didn’t. The man was a womanizer at Harvard. A desire to follow her rose up inside him.

If Abby was the right woman for him, as Pastor Ted had implied, then somehow the trouble between them would be healed. Spying on Abby would not help his cause. But he’d never been more tempted.

Well, he had a simpler way to determine if Abby was meeting Carder. He’d make a visit to his law office. The man better be playing with paper dolls and not off somewhere with Abby.

Abigail waited until Wade headed inside before setting off for the Collier farm. With Rafe’s reputation, she didn’t relish the errand, but she’d overheard Seth say he’d sign a agreement with Wade. She had to act quickly. The best way to influence Seth appeared to be through his father.

As she turned onto Main Street, she passed Harrison’s law office. The glare on the window kept her from seeing inside. She wondered what Harrison thought about the sermon, the warm reception from the congregation. Next Sunday would reveal what, if anything, the service meant to him.

As she drove out of town, she breathed a prayer Rafe would listen to reason and take a stand for his son’s education.

If not for her encounter with Wade and the purpose of the errand, she would have enjoyed the freedom of getting out of town, seeing some of the countryside. The blades of corn, almost knee-high in the fields, fluttered in the breeze. Across the way, wheat undulated like a calm sea. Crops looked good. Hopefully New Harmony’s farmers would have a successful harvest, unlike last year. Within minutes, a storm, hail, high winds, could destroy their efforts. Another reason she had to encourage her nephews to go into another occupation. To get the education that would enable them to find employment with less risk.

She had no trouble spotting the Collier property. The only farm she’d passed with keep-out signs posted on every fencepost.

At the lane she tugged on the reins, stopping Beauty, then jumped from the rig and tethered the horse.

Only to find the gate securely locked.

Well, she wouldn’t let that stop her. Hitching up her skirt, she found a toehold then heaved to the top and over the gate and then dropped to the ground. As she did, she landed wrong, twisting her ankle. Hissing with pain, she leaned against the gate, rubbing the ankle. Once the throbbing eased a bit, she hobbled up the lane.

A very long lane.

The sun bore down. Perspiration beaded on her forehead. Her ankle hurt worse, no doubt swelling from the exertion and heat. Well, she’d come this far. She wouldn’t be deterred.

As she reached a cove of trees and the welcome shade it provided, she heard an ominous click.

“Stop right where you are.”

Rafe stepped from the trees, toting a gun.

“Mr. Collier, it’s Abigail Wilson, Seth’s teacher. I’d like to talk about your son’s education.”

Silence.

“I’d like a chance to explain what Seth’s options are and what that could mean for his future.”

She moved toward Rafe. His face shaded by a wide-brimmed Stetson, she couldn’t read his expression but smelled whiskey.

He waved the shotgun. “Get on home. You’re trespassing.”

“I’m not here to poach or abuse your land. I just want to talk—”

“Leave now or I’ll fire.”