Dorothy Clark (9 page)

Chapter Twelve

I
t was jump or be jumped. Her chance had come. Sadie smiled, hopped her checker over her grandfather’s and removed his black one from the board. “King me, Poppa.” She looked from the game board to her grandmother, busy sweeping the hearth again. Her repetitious behavior was harmless enough, but she couldn’t stand to watch it any longer.

“Come take my place, Nanna. I’ve just got a king. I’m winning.”

“Not...yet.” Her grandfather grabbed a black checker she hadn’t noticed in a corner, jumped it over the three red ones she had left on the board and landed square in front of her new king.

“Poppa!” His chuckle warmed her heart. She looked at her now-lonely king trapped in the corner by two of his checkers and wrinkled her nose at him. “All right, I concede. You’re too good for me.”

“He always wins, Sadie. You should know that by now.” Her grandmother smiled at her, then resumed her sweeping.

She rose and put her arm around her grandmother’s soft shoulders. “It’s too hot for you to work so hard, Nanna. Why don’t you rest a bit? I’ll finish sweeping later, after it cools.”

“Well...” The swish of the broom against the clean hearth stopped. “I am warm.”

She grasped the broom handle and urged her grandmother forward. “You come and play a game with Poppa, Nanna. And I’ll go to the springhouse and get some lemonade.”

“Oh, lovely! I do enjoy Ivy’s lemonade. She makes it just right...not too sweet.” Her grandmother seated herself and slid a checker forward. “Be sure to bring a large pitcherful and enough glasses for Sarah and Edward, also. They’re stopping by this morning.”

Oh, Nanna. Mother and Father have been dead since I was three years old.
She glanced at her grandfather, saw the pain in his eyes and hurried out of the room, carrying the hearth broom with her and struggling to hold back tears. She was becoming more accustomed to her grandmother’s lapses into the past, but there were still moments when—

“Saaadie...I’m heerrre...” Willa came rushing out of the kitchen and crashed straight into her.

“Oh!” She dropped the broom and grabbed for the wall to steady herself. They stared at one another, then burst into laughter.

“I’m sorry, Sadie.” Willa reached up and pulled her hat back into place. “Gertrude said you were in the sitting room.”

“I was.” She looked into Willa’s twinkling blue-green eyes and leaned down to pick up the broom, sobered by the reason for her friend’s visit. “I was on my way to fetch lemonade for Nanna and Poppa.”

“Oh, good. That gives me a chance to visit with them a moment before we leave for the sawmill.”

“No!”

Willa’s eyes widened and her brows arched. “What?”

“I mean...I’d like to go to the mill right now—while Nanna and Poppa are playing checkers. I’ll have Gertrude take them their lemonade, and you can visit with them when we come back.”
Please, Lord. If Willa mentions the sawmill to Poppa...

“Oh. Well, whatever you think best.” Willa grinned and motioned toward her hand. “But I suggest you leave the broom behind. If you arrive at the mill carrying it, they might think you’ve come to clean up all that sawdust.”

“Indeed.” She smiled, ignored a twinge of guilt at not being entirely forthright with Willa and led the way into the kitchen to give Gertrude her message on their way out the door. After all, she was doing this for her grandparents’ sake. And it was Cole’s fault she had to be secretive about it. So why didn’t her conscience ease?

Guilt rode her shoulders as they left the porch and walked to Willa’s carriage. Should she tell her their real destination was Cole’s shingle mill and why? No. Willa might refuse to go with her if she knew she was searching for—

“Does it bother you that Cole Aylward is managing your grandfather’s businesses, Sadie?”

She froze, gaping at Willa, who was freeing the reins from the hitching post.
Cole was running Poppa’s businesses?
Her stomach clenched. She snapped her mouth closed, put her foot on the iron rung, gripped the side of the phaeton and climbed in. No wonder Cole had taken the ledgers. He could do what he would, when he would, and her grandfather would be none the wiser. At least she now knew where to find the books.

“You didn’t answer me, Sadie.” Willa climbed to her seat and looked over at her. “Does Cole managing your grandfather’s businesses bother you?”

“I’m getting used to the idea.” Willa’s eyebrows shot skyward again at her acerbic tone. She settled back on the padded leather seat, pressed her hand against her roiling stomach and stared straight ahead, chiding herself for believing, for even an instant, that Cole Aylward’s kind actions had sprung from his heart.

* * *

Cole rode into the mill yard and eyed the horse and rig tied to the hitching rack outside the office. Must be the pastor needed more lumber for that tree house he was building for Joshua. Regret rammed a fist into his gut. He’d never have that pleasure. He had to have a wife to have children, and he wouldn’t marry—not if there was a chance he might someday turn violent and hurt the woman he loved. Or the children born of their marriage.

He buried rising thoughts of his father and brother and slipped from the saddle, looped Cloud’s reins over the rail and climbed the steps to the deck. A quick glance around told him Matthew Calvert was not in the mill. The clang of the sawyer’s hammer against the iron dogs he was using to spike a log into position for the next cut rang in his ears as he strode to the office and opened the door. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived, Pastor. What can I do—”

“Oh!” Two women whirled about to face him. Willa Calvert, who looked upset and abashed, and Sadie, who looked...defiant. His heart jolted at the sight of her.

The saw blade in the mill started screeching and chattering its way through the log spiked to the carrier. He stepped into the office and pulled the door closed to dull the noise and shut out the flying sawdust. “Good afternoon, ladies.” He glanced down at the open drawer in the desk in front of Sadie. “May I help you?”

Willa Calvert’s cheeks turned pink. Her mouth opened, then closed. She clasped her hands together in front of her and looked at Sadie. He followed her gaze.

“I’ve come for Poppa’s business ledgers.”

So that was it. Manning wanted to check the accounts to see if they could afford to buy the clapboard machine. He smiled and stepped closer to better hear Sadie’s soft voice over the noise of the saw. “There was no need for you to come after them. All Manning had to do was ask and—” A sudden flash of guilt in her eyes stopped him cold. Manning didn’t know she was here.
She
wanted the books. Why? For the second time in as few minutes, that fist rammed into his gut. What did she think he was doing—stealing her grandfather’s money?

“Nonetheless, I’m here.”

Sadie closed the desk drawer and stepped over beside the pastor’s wife, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. What had Sadie told her?

“If you will give me the ledgers, I will leave.”

Sadie’s voice was steady, but her hands weren’t. They’d been trembling when she closed the drawer. He glanced down to where she had them tucked out of sight in her long skirts, then raised his gaze back to her face. Her eyes were focused somewhere in the vicinity of his chin. Would she ever
look
at him? You could read so much in a person’s eyes. If she would give him a chance... He shrugged off that hopeless wish and shook his head. “I can’t do that. They’re not here.” Her shoulders jerked and her back went as straight as one of the rods they used to roll the logs around.

“What do you mean they’re not here? Are you saying you don’t have them?”

Her tone called him a liar. His hands flexed. He could cheerfully have choked an apology for stealing Manning’s money out of Payne had he been there. Maybe then she’d see him as his own person, not an extension of his brother. He sucked in air to quell his rising anger. “No. I’m saying the ledgers are not here. They’re at my shingle mill.”

“At
your
mill.”

She was so angry she actually looked into his eyes an instant before her gaze skittered away from his and landed back on his chin. It shook him. So did the look of confusion that swept over Willa Calvert’s face. He held back a frown and nodded.

“Why are they at
your
mill?”

He took another breath and a strong grip on his patience. “Because I’m filling all of the shingle orders there.” Whoa! And he’d thought her posture was rigid before. “Look, if you think—” He clamped his lips tight and shook his head. No point in putting such thoughts in Willa Calvert’s head if Sadie hadn’t accused him to her.

“Let’s go, Sadie. I’m sure Mr. Aylward has work to do.”

He looked down at Willa Calvert’s hand tugging on Sadie’s arm.

“We might as well. My quest here is fruitless.”

He scowled as Sadie yielded to her friend’s urging and turned toward the door that led outside, stepped forward in time to open it. Sadie’s unspoken accusations hung on the air like the sawdust drifting from the open mill deck as she swept by him and followed Willa down the steps.

His fingers clenched on the latch. There was no sense in following to hand them into the phaeton. Willa Calvert was already climbing in, and Sadie wouldn’t want him to touch her. And he shouldn’t. He looked down at his large, callused,
empty
hand. Fool that he was, he wanted to touch her hand too much.

The thought drove him inside. He stepped to the window and stared out at the rippling water of the pond, listened to the rush of water through the flume beneath the floor. Not only was Sadie afraid of him, she thought he was a thief. The thought sickened him.

What did he expect? His name was Aylward. Sadie would always see him through the prism of Payne’s vile attack on her. Unless—he took a breath, raised his gaze to the forested hills beyond the pond—unless he could find Payne and bring him back to Pinewood to atone for what he’d done. It wouldn’t change what had happened. Nothing could change that. How he wished he could! But it might make Sadie see him for who he was.

Help me, Lord, to find Payne that justice might be done and Sadie will know I’m not like him. Oh, God, don’t let me be like him.
The possibility knotted his stomach. It wasn’t only for Sadie’s sake he had to find Payne.

He strode to the desk, took out paper and unstoppered the inkwell. His search for Payne had slowed when he started his shingle business, and it had ceased altogether with Manning Townsend’s seizure. He could not be gone all day with Manning depending on him to be his legs. But he could send letters to the authorities in the towns he’d not yet visited. It had been four years, but perhaps he could pick up Payne’s trail and track him to his present location by the responses. He dipped a pen in the ink, thought a moment, then bent over the paper.

Most Honorable Sirs:

I am seeking information about my brother, who disappeared four years ago. His name is Payne Aylward, though he may be using another at present.

Mr. Aylward is a logger, robust in appearance and manner. He is tall (approaching six feet) with broad shoulders, black hair and beard, dark gray eyes and a broken front tooth.

If you have seen or heard of this man in your area, no matter how long ago, please write me, postage due on receipt, at the direction following my signature. I will tender a recompense of ten dollars for any information that proves to be true and useful in locating my brother.

Respectfully,

Cole Aylward

Pinewood Village, New York

He scanned what he had written, blotted the paper and set it aside to begin another.

* * *

Sadie gripped the hold strap so hard her fingernails dug into her palm as the buggy rocked across the rutted sawmill yard and swayed out onto the dirt road. “I don’t know what to do now.” She blew out a breath and glanced at Willa. “I can’t go to Cole’s mill and—”

“Certainly not! I’d like an explanation, Sadie.” Willa shot her a look, then turned her attention back to the road ahead and urged the horse to greater speed. “You
embarrassed
me back there. I can’t imagine what Cole Aylward must think of our actions. Sneaking into his office and—”

“We did
not
sneak. We walked up the steps the same as anyone.” She huffed out a breath and released her grip on the hold strap. “And it’s
Poppa’s
office.”

“Not while he is unable to run his business. Cole is his manager and the office is his to use now. And as for the ledgers...” Willa shot her another look. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going after them? Better yet, why didn’t you simply ask Cole for them instead of sneaking around trying to find them?”

“Because he’s a thief.”

“What?”

She grabbed for the strap again as Willa drew back on the reins. “I said, Cole’s a thief. And a liar.” The carriage stopped. She let go of the strap and massaged her reddened palm. “He has a scheme afoot to steal Poppa’s money, or his businesses, or something.”

Willa stared at her, shock and dismay clear on her face. “Oh, Sadie, are you certain? Cole seems so nice and honest and upright.”

“So did Payne.” Saying the name brought a bitter taste to her mouth. She stopped massaging her palm and wrapped her arms about herself, rubbing her upper left arm.

Willa’s hand covered hers. “Does your arm still pain you?”

She looked into Willa’s eyes, moist with tears, and shook her head. “No. It’s only...memories...” Willa’s hand tightened on hers.

“Is it still so bad, Sadie?”

“No. It’s only that there are so many reminders here at home they strike unexpectedly.” She took a breath and lowered her hands to her lap. “The nightmares are the worst. They’re so...vivid.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms about herself again.

Willa cleared her throat, snapped the reins and started the horse moving. “So tell me, what is Cole’s scheme? How is he stealing your grandfather’s money?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed and looked over at Willa. “That’s why I need the ledgers, so I can find out and tell Poppa. Then he will dismiss Cole, and he’ll never come to the house again.” A hollow feeling struck her stomach. She took a breath, refusing to think of how empty the house would seem without him there.