Cassidy (Big Sky Dreams 1) (9 page)

The two started back toward the ranch house, the conversation moving to the sermon and Rylan's reminders that morning about showing hospitality. Cassidy said she'd learned a lot about that from Meg.

By the time they got back to the house that lady had gotten up from her rest. The five of them enjoyed the pie Cassidy had brought and visited for the rest of the afternoon.

c-yt,irz.

"Is Rylan interested in Cassidy?" Brad asked Trace when the men were out Sunday evening feeding the stock.

"Are you referring to the walk they took this afternoon?" "Yes. Is there something going on?"

"I don't think so," Trace said. "If Rylan planned to pursue Cass, he wouldn't wait until they were here to do it. They live four blocks apart."

Brad let the matter drop, but it stayed on his mind. Trace, on the other hand, had been completely up front with his feelings and didn't give it another thought. If Rylan's interest was suddenly turning toward Cassidy, he'd be very surprised indeed.

Doctor Ertz was not overly concerned about Meg's pains. He was glad she'd checked with him, but he did not think there was anything to panic over. Getting closer to town might be a good idea, but he didn't think it was time for that just yet.

Meg and Brad were both glad for his opinion but realized it didn't answer their questions about when Meg should move to town, if at all.

"We'll figure it out," Brad said, walking Meg across the street

68so she could pick up some things at Wheeler's. "And you'll have to stay rested."

Meg's mind went to work on the changes she could make in her daily routine, not even seeing that Brad was holding the door for her once they'd reached the store.

"Oh, my, Meg," he said quietly, smiling at her.

"What?"

"You're plotting or thinking."

Meg bit her lip, her eyes brimming with a smile.

"Am I right?" Brad pressed.

"Yes," Meg forced herself to admit before slipping inside the store. She had a long list and wanted to get to it, but her concerns about finding ways to have more rest were real. Predictable and caught by her husband or not, it was something they would have to discuss.

"You'd better get to the livery," Jeanette told Cassidy on Wednesday afternoon. "Meg will wonder where you are."

Cassidy noticed the time and realized she was right. With a few last-minute instructions, Cassidy headed toward the livery and found Mr. Stillwell in attendance.

"Hello, Mr. Stillwell," Cassidy greeted the livery owner. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Miss Norton. Here for your rig?"

"Yes," Cassidy answered, wondering where Rylan was and wishing she could ask.

"I'll have it for you in just a few minutes."

Cassidy thanked him and learned in a hurry that his idea of a few minutes was not hers. About thirty minutes later than her usual

time-and wishing she had asked if she could ready the rig herself- Cassidy finally headed for the Holden Ranch.

69

Meg and Trace sat on the front porch, watching for Cassidy's buggy. She was running late today, and Trace felt disappointment fill him. He'd been planning this for two days, and Cassidy's not being on time had never occurred to him.

"Are you going to ask or tell?" Meg wanted to know.

Trace smiled and said, "How does 'strongly suggest' sound?" Meg smiled at her brother-in-law, thinking he was almost as sweet as her husband.

"You don't mind, do you, Meg?" Trace asked.

"Not at all. We are talking about Cassidy's safety here. How could I object to that?"

Before Trace could reply, he spotted the buggy. He met her before she could climb down and helped her alight.

"Change in plans today," Trace said, glad that Meg had come off the porch to join them.

"What's up?" Cassidy asked.

"Shooting first, sewing later."

Cassidy looked at Trace, then Meg, and back to Trace. Finally she asked of Meg, "Is he serious?"

"He is."'

"Why do I need to learn to shoot?" Cassidy asked Trace, feeling she needed to add, "I don't own a gun."

"We'll work on that detail later," Trace said with complete calm. "You need to know how to protect yourself"

Cassidy looked as though she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

"What's the hesitation?" Trace asked, not wanting to railroad her but convinced this was necessary.

"Guns are a little scary."

"I don't think you'll feel that way when you've learned to handle one."

70Cassidy looked at him a moment. "Meg," she finally asked her, friend, "do you know how to shoot?"

Meg nodded. "Brad taught me."

Cassidy's gaze dropped to Meg's stomach. "You'll be in the house, far away from all of this, right?"

"Yes," Meg said with a laugh, and Trace took that as agreement.

"Okay," he wasted no time in saying, "you take your things inside, Cassie. I'll see to your horse and come for you as soon as I'm done."

Cassidy felt as though she'd been swept up in a storm but could find no reason to object. She was waiting with a certain degree of fear when he showed up just ten minutes later.

71

RYLAN HAD ASKED PETE STILLWELLfor the day off, feeling behind

in several areas of study and ready to take some extra time to pray for the church family. His plan worked until just after lunch, when a knock on his door interrupted everything.

Abi Pfister was standing there, paper ready, requesting-almost demanding-an interview. Rylan was not thrilled, but neither did he have a good reason to say no, realizing this was better than her showing up at the livery. Rylan was sure his boss would not appreciate that, and someone who did not understand the workings of a smith could make it downright dangerous.

"When did you come to Token Creek, Pastor Jarvik?" "Five years ago."

"Exactly?" Abi asked her standard question.

"Let me see." Rylan had to think. "It will be five years in August."

Rylan, standing on his front porch, watched the woman write, wondering what would come next.

"Why Token Creek?"

"I knew the pastor who was here. Pastor English was not in the best of health and knew he wouldn't be staying in the pulpit much

72longer. He wrote and asked me to come and meet the folks here. I did and I stayed."

"Where are you from?"

"Denver."

Abi, head bent, ready to write, stopped and looked up at him. "Denver? I didn't know that. It's a long way."

"Yes, it is. The trains make it shorter these days, but five years ago, when it was trains
and
the stage, it took a very long time." "How long before you leave for another church?"

"I don't have plans to leave Token Creek."

"I thought all preachers moved around."

"Not all."

"Wallis told me they did."

Rylan had heard this about Abi Pfister. She liked to tell as much as she was told. He didn't want to get into a gossip session with her, but he thought this might be a good time for the conversation to get a bit personal.

"I think some do, but when I read my Bible I see great value in the local church family. The New Testament displays over and over again the importance of the local church, and as long as Token Creek needs a pastor, and I'm able and qualified for the job, I plan to stay."

"What qualifies you?" Abi asked, her paper dropping in spite of herself.

"The qualifications for an elder are laid out in First Timothy." "An elder? I thought you were a pastor."

"I'm called pastor, but my job is that of elder."

"I never read the Bible," Abi said softly, still forgetting she was supposed to be interviewing Rylan.

"Is there a reason you don't?" Rylan asked kindly.

"It's an old book, and I like new ones."

"It is an old book, but not just any old book. The truths of the Bible are very relevant today."

"You have to say that; you're a preacher."

73 "I don't have to say that. I believe it withal! my heart." "Are you going to start preaching at me?"

"Is that part of the interview?"

Abi surprised him by giving a short crack of laughter. For a moment more she continued to be distracted but eventually went back to work.

"Where is your family?"

"Denver."

"Anyone going to join you here?"

"No."

"No wife, no children?"

"No to both."

Abi suddenly speared him with her eyes. "I don't know if I trust a preacher who isn't married."

"Why is that?" Rylan asked, not the least offended.

Abi was disarmed by this. She hadn't expected him to ask her why. "I don't know," she snapped a little. "I just don't."

"Well, if you figure it out," Rylan encouraged, his voice as calm as ever, "let me know:"

Abi had no choice but to admire the man, although she did not let this show on her face. There was no artifice in him. She knew that Sheriff Kaderly thought very highly of him, as did everyone else she talked to. If rumor could be believed, Rylan Jarvik did not talk one way and act another.

"That's all for now," Abi said, putting her things into her bag, her lopsided hat bobbing in the process. "But I might be back."

"And I might be here," Rylan answered, a little tease in his voice.

"Well, I can always find you at the livery."

"I can't be interviewed if I'm working," Rylan took the opportunity to say. "It's not safe in a livery, and Pete Stillwell pays me to work." Abi didn't like being reminded that she was in the habit of dis - turbing folks while they worked. Jessie Wheeler would never talk to

74 her when the store was open, and if Abi had been thinking right, she would have realized that Jessie had customers who needed her more, and two daughters to look after as well. What folks didn't understand was that
she
had a book to write, and it was important.

"Was there anything else?" Rylan asked, and Abi realized she'd been standing there doing nothing.

"No," she said, her voice clipped. With that word, she turned and walked away. Rylan said goodbye, but she didn't answer, nor did she thank him. She never thanked anyone for their story. What she was doing was important. The folks of Token Creek should be thanking her!

"It's heavier than it looks," Cassidy said after Trace showed her how to hold the revolver.

"Use two hands," he instructed, watching her closely. "And you're sure it has no bullets yet?"

"Here, I'll show you," Trace took the weapon back, broke it open and showed her the empty chambers. "See," he said, holding it for her to examine. "All clear."

Cassidy looked into the gun and then up into the cowboy's face, shaded by his hat but still very clear.

"Trace," Cassidy said quietly, "what happened Saturday night that did this?"

Trace looked into her blue eyes, clear and trusting as a child's. He knew he had to leave Cassidy's life in God's hands, but if there was something he could do to prevent her being harmed, he had to do it.

"I've been naive about life in town," Trace admitted. "Jeanette is not on Main Street. She's away from the saloons. The other women I know live with their husbands or fathers. You're more alone on Saturday night than I ever realized. Teaching you to shoot does not

75make everything all right, but if there was ever a need to protect . yourself, you would know how."

Cassidy nodded, not sure she could shoot this gun but not willing to admit that.

"Okay, take the revolver again, with both hands, and just point it at the target I set up."

Cassidy did as she was told, finding it a little easier with both hands, but also discovering that her arms tired easily.

"I think you might take for granted how strong your arms are, Trace."

"You sew for a living. You could probably crack nuts with those fingers of yours."

"That might be true, but I don't hold my sewing two feet in front of me, and my strength is not in my arms."

"Are you telling me you can't do this, Miss Norton?" Trace asked, a clear challenge in his voice.

Cassidy's chin came up. "I didn't say that."

"Then get that gun steadied and aimed."

Cassidy positioned the gun and then looked defiantly at her instructor.

"Anything else, Mr. Holden?"

Trace had to grin before saying, "Pull the trigger."

The weapon trembled a bit, but she did it, her face a mixture of fear and surprise even with that empty click.

"How was that?" Cassidy asked, a bit breathless, all defiance gone.

"Very good." Trace's praise was genuine. "Do it again. See if you can get things a little steadier this time."

Cassidy worked along strongly for the next thirty minutes. Not until Trace noticed the sweat trickling down her right temple did he realize she was without a bonnet or hat and the June sun was relentless above,them.

"Let's take a break."

76"A break?"

"I thought it might be time."

"I can do this," Cassidy said with certainty.

"Yes, you can," Trace encouraged, "but it's hot out here, and you're working hard."

Cassidy agreed and soon after their break learned that there would be no time for sewing that day. With the gun finally loaded, she would not stop working with the revolver until she got it right. Trace pressed her to knock
all
the cans from the fence, and that took some doing. Indeed it took until nearly suppertime, but she accomplished it.

"What are you looking at?" Meg asked Brad, catching him at the window when she thought he was working on some paperwork. "Just the shooting lesson."

"How is she doing?"

"Good."

Hearing his distracted tone, Meg stared at her husband's profile. "What are you thinking about?"

Brad looked down at Meg, slipped an arm around her, and said,

"Things I'm not ready to talk about. Can I tell you later?"

"Sure," Meg said, cuddling and working to keep her imagina tion

calm.

Brad's free hand went to his wife's stomach, and he simply held her close. He was not willing to put thoughts into Meg's head when he wasn't even sure what to do with the ones in his awn.

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Cassidy was nowhere near as lively during supper as the Holden family was used to seeing. And when after the meal ended Trace suggested they head to town a little early, she did not argue. Trace

77didn't press her to talk but got her home without delay. He told her she'd done a great job, and she looked pleased, but there was no missing the fatigue that hung on her. It would not have surprised him to learn that Cassidy went to bed as soon she got home and slept hard all night.

Token Creek's seamstress was not the only person who took Rylan's words on hospitality to heart. Before she could invite the Holdens for a meal, the Vick family asked her to join them for Sunday dinner.

"This is Buster," Heidi told Cassidy with pride, taking her to see the dog the moment she arrived and looking very pleased when Cassidy went down on her knees to pet the puppy who had clearly just wakened. He yawned, and his little eyes began to close again as Cassidy stroked his downy-soft head.

"He's such a sweet dog, Heidi. No wonder you love him."

Heidi looked pleased and, as in the past, Cassidy's heart melted over her shy smile and shining brown eyes.

"Don't let that sleepy look fool you," Chas said, having watched the scene. "When he cries in the night or chews up my shoes, he's not so charming."

"Don't let Chas fool you either, Cassie," Miranda added, having to tease her husband. "This is also the man who lets that dog sleep on his lap after the kids are in bed."

Chas laughed at being caught. Miranda laughed with him and told everyone that dinner was ready. Parker had some rough moments because he wanted to sit in his father's lap and not his chair, but eventually his tears and attitude were dealt with and the meal began.

"Do you know Trace?" Franklin asked Cassidy while dishes were still being passed.

"I do know Trace."

"He talked to me today," Franklin offered, his little face showing pleasure without smiling.

78"What did you talk about?"

"His ranch. I've been there. He has a horse."

"Yes, he does," Cassidy agreed. "I think his name is Quincy." Franklin nodded in agreement, and Cassidy's eyes eventually swung to Miranda, who quietly filled her in.

"Franklin wants to own a ranch and have a horse someday. He thinks Trace and Brad are pretty special."

"Not a carpenter?" Cassidy asked, looking to Chas who had built several of Token Creek's houses and could turn his hand to anything involving wood.

"Not at seven," Chas said with a smile, not at all offended by his son's dreams. "He might change his mind when he sees how much cheaper a hammer is than a horse."

Cassidy was careful not to laugh out loud, never wanting Franklin to think she was making fun of him, but she was tempted. He was so sincere and sweet, and everything about the Vick children delighted her.

At the end of the meal, Parker even let her hold him, his three- year- old body warm and snug against her as they looked at a book, confirming yet again to Cassidy that she wanted children of her own. However, she never dreamed that Chas was already working to find her a husband.

"Why have none of our men snatched up Cassidy Norton?" Chas asked Miranda much later that day.

Miranda looked at Chas, surprised to hear him say this. She wanted to tease him about matchmaking but stayed serious. "Are you thinking of someone in particular?"

"Rylan and Trace are the first two who come to mind." "Will you talk to either of them?"

Chas smiled. "Nope. If they're not bright enough to see that she's special, they don't deserve her."

79The two shared a look and both laughed. Chas was done talking about it, having said all that was on his mind. Miranda, however, had a hard time getting to sleep, the future of Cassidy Norton filling her mind.

"And I need to have this fixed," Mrs. Hibbard said of the next thing on a long list, standing in Cassidy's shop on Saturday morning and pointing to a popped seam on a dress Cassidy and Jeanette had made. 'I think if you had sewn this corrtctly the first time, it would have stayed sewn."

Cassidy did not argue but made note of the area, planning to fix the dress to Mrs. Hibbard's satisfaction. Jeanette, standing by to help, placed a pin in the spot so they would miss nothing.

"And here," Mrs. Hibbard displayed the last complaint. "The fabric doesn't look right here. I don't like it."

Cassidy looked at the skirt of the dress, not sure what she was supposed to be seeing.

"Could you show me exactly where, Mrs. Hibbard?" she asked. "Right there!" that lady snapped. "See how the weave is off?" Cassidy did not see and had no choice but to shake her head. "Maybe if we go into better light," Jeanette suggested, full of

admiration for her boss who did not answer back or try to defend

their work.

"Right there!" Mrs. Hibbard pointed again, and Cassidy had to give up.

"I think what I want to do, Mrs. Hibbard, is simply return your money. I don't see what you need here, and I don't think I'm the best person to try to fix your dress. I can repair these other things, but I can't see what's wrong with the weave in the front here, so I'm just going to give you your money back."

"What about my dress?" Mrs. Hibbard demanded.

80"Well, you'll have your money back," Cassidy said reasonably, "and maybe you can find someone else to fix the weave."

"Fine," the irate customer said tightly. "I'll be back for this on Monday."

Cassidy nodded. She would have to put off other work to get it done, but she wanted Mrs. Hibbard gone, and today could not be soon enough.

The door closed too hard when that lady exited, but Cassidy didn't say a word. Going directly to her sewing machine, she got to work on Mrs. Hibbard's dress. Jeanette's heart wrung with corn- passion over what she'd just seen, but she didn't comment or try to comfort her. She went back to her own work, hoping it would stay quiet for a time.

It didn't. The door opened not five minutes later, and both women looked up to see Chandler Di Fiore standing just inside the door. He did not look happy.

"May I speak with you, Cassidy?"

"Certainly."

"I was going over some accounts this morning, and I've made an error in yours."

Cassidy's heart sank a little, but she did not speak. Jeanette, owning the bank and having known Chandler for years, was not silent.

"Is it in Cassidy's favor, Chandler?" The older woman went right to the point.

"No. She actually has ninety dollars less than we thought." Jeanette looked stunned by this, but Cassidy remained quiet, and her face did not give her thoughts away.

"I'm sorry, Cassidy," Chandler went on. "I assume the mistake is in your bankbook too."

"It's all right, Chandler. These things happen."

"Do you want to get your bankbook, Cass?" Jeanette asked. "You could send it with Chandler, and he could make sure it's corrected."

81"Yes,I'll do that," Cassidy agreed, feeling a little numb. Ninety dollars was a lot of money. Her account had been nicely padded. She almost dreaded finding where the numbers would end up.

"I'm sorry, Cassidy," Chandler said again, his eyes searching her quiet face. He almost wished she would get upset with him. Her quiet response was harder to take than his own recriminations.

"It's all right, Chandler. I'll come after work, and you can tell me where things ended up."

"All right."

Cassidy went back to her sewing machine. Chandler stood for a moment, watching her, before looking at Jeanette with all the misery he felt. Her face was compassionate. Her husband had been a banker long enough for her to understand these kinds of mistakes, but that didn't make it any easier.

Chandler slipped back out the door into the warm day. He walked slowly back to the bank, the weight of this mistake resting heavily upon him. He hoped and prayed that when all was figured out and resettled that Cassidy would not be left in need.

Whom do you trust, Cassidy Norton?
that woman asked herself as she sewed, her movements swift with agitation.
Where does your trust lie? Have you made your bankbook into a god?

"Are you all right?" Jeanette had waited a little while to ask.

"I think so." Cassidy stayed bent over the machine. "I'm having a little talk with myself."

"Is it helping?"

For some reason this made Cassidy smile. She turned to Jeanette and laughed a little.

"Yes," the younger woman was able to say. "It's helping." Jeanette laughed with her, and with both hearts still prayerful, the women went back to work.

82Cassidy came back from the bank a little shocked. Her savings had been drastically depleted. At the same time, two folks had come in that day whom she'd never met. One ordered work, and the other was considering a project and even looking at one of the quilts.

Cassidy knew that God would not leave her alone in this. She had to make a living, and He was more aware of that fact than she was. Cassidy was talking to Him about that when she turned the corner to head up her stairs and found Trace Holden sitting on the bottom step.

"Oh, Trace!" Cassidy stopped short. "You startled me."

Trace came to his feet and removed his hat. "I'm sorry. I found your shop locked, and no one answered your door. I assumed you'd gone to the bank."

"Yes, I did. Are you meeting with Rylan tonight?"

"No, I came into town to deliver this."

Cassidy took the letter Trace was holding out to her. She looked at him a moment, but he just stood there. Cassidy eventually opened the letter and read.

Dear Cassie,

Sometimes it takes us a while. I'm only glad it didn't take longer.The three of us have talked, and we want you to stay with us on Saturday nights. Tracewillcome for you,or bring you later if he has study with Rylan. Your proximity to the saloons is not safe on Saturday night, and we won't take no for an answer. Gather what you need for tonight and in the morning, and come with Trace. I know he won't leave town without you.