Faith of the Heart (2 page)

Looking about the room she remembered
her pistol and
bullet
pouch
with a start
.
There was no way she could forget to take that!
She slipped to the door, open
ing
it quietly and peer
ing
into the hall. Satisfied that no one was near
,
Claire closed the door and
kneeled at the side of her bed. Lifting the edge of the
blue
ticking
mattress
,
she thrust her arm underneath and retrieved her pistol
, the pouch of bullets and her leather bag of savings. Standing up
,
she carefully slid the pistol and pouches into her pocketbook.

             
She glanced at her father’s timepiece, a handsome pocket
watch that she carried at all times—her other treasured belonging. The hands showed 4:00, the second hand ticking comfortably against a creamy
,
elegant background. Just enough time to obtain a schedule and purchase a ticket on the next train west. Claire flew down the back steps,
ran
out the kitchen door and headed to the tiny train station a few blocks away.

Gettsyburg, Pennsylvania
,
was a small town with sturdy rock fences and brick streets. Tidy stone houses and
majestic
maple trees
lined those streets
,
but Claire paid no attention as she hurried on her mission. A few minutes later she reached the station.

“Excuse me sir, when is your next train to Omaha, Nebraska?”

“Well, young lady
,
it so happens I have a train heading west tomor
row
,
” replied the crusty old station master. He squinted at a timetable and nodded.
”
Yup, tomorrow. How many tickets will you be
needing? Round-trip I gather.”

“
One ticket
,
sir. And no, I don’t want a round trip ticket. This is to be a one way trip.” She stared at the old man and he backed up a step.

“Uh,
yes miss, a one way ticket to Nebraska for tomorrow. That’ll be thirteen dollars
,
miss
,
and you have you
rself
a safe trip
.
” Shaking his grizz
l
ed head
,
he reached for the
coins
she placed on the counter and handed her a schedule and a ticket.
Claire nodded
before turning
sharply on her heel and str
iding
back to the
Buckley
house with
memories of Cal and possibilities for the future swirling in her head.

 
             
             
             
             
***
             

That was three days ago. Now she was somewhere in the western half of Iowa. Once she crossed the Missouri River
,
the next stop would be Omaha and Aunt Gin’s loving arms. She could hardly wait.

             
“Omaha! Ommaaaaha!” The conductor bellowed as he strode through the railcar. Claire opened her eyes, squinting in the early afternoon light. People were rising, stretching and gathering their belongings.

I don’t even remember sleeping
, she thought.
I must have, it’s almost evening and ouch!
m
y neck is stiff. I’m here, I’m finally here!
She said a quick prayer
of thanks
for her safe deliverance and reached for her
trunk
and hatboxes.

The weight of her pistol, hidden deeply in a skirt pocket, banged against her thigh. Claire might be young and genteel
,
but she was also practical. She was a crackerjack shot thanks to her father’s early instruction. No one was going to get the best of his little girl. Claire had secretly kept up with her shooting and found great pleasure in her very unladylike skill.

             
She clambered down the steps to the boardwalk outside the depot and looked around.

Where was Aunt Gin?
Surely Gin would meet the arrival of her train!

As Claire waited
t
en minutes passed, then twenty. The other passengers had departed and the porter was nowhere in sight. Perhaps Ginny was busy at the store.

That must be it. No bother, I shall ask directions
:
it can’t be far.

She set her chin in a determined manner and drew her belongings near. Just th
en a young sheriff stepped up to
her
.

“Miss Secord?”
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             

             
“Why, yes?”
Claire responded, sta
rtled to hear him say her name.
             
             
             

“Miss Secord, I am Sheriff Thomas Maxwell and I
’d
like to
welcome you to Omaha.”
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
“Well
,
thank you
,
but I was expecting my aun
t
,
Virginia W
eikert
.”
             

“
Y
es,
I know, that’s why I’m here
,” he said nervously, looking everywhere but Claire’s face.

He twisted his Stetson in his large, calloused hands and looked over her shoulder. He took a deep breath and tried again. This time he looked into her eyes and spoke in his most gentle voice. The voice he used to soothe his horses.  

“Miss Secord, I’m sorry to tell you this
,
but we
buried your aunt this

morning,
about six hours ago.”

             
Claire gasped, her knees buckled, and
Sheriff
Maxwell
barely caught her as she slumped to the ground. He produced a clean handkerchief and began fanning her pale face. “Miss Secord, are you alright?”

             
Da
r
n, what do I do now?
H
e
thought.
Wake up lady! Wake up!

Slowly
,
Claire opened her eyes and
Maxwell
was struck by the pain he saw reflected there.
He released his grip on her
waist
and she
staggered a bit. When she steadied herself and looked up at him
wide
-
eyed
,
he told her that two days ago Virginia Weikert had been struck down by a team of runaway horses. She died instantly.
             
             
 
             
             
“Miss, if it’s any consolation, it was a right nice service. Pastor Stevens did a fine job and many townsfolk turned out to pay their respects.
The cemetery is just a mile or so from here.
And she has a lovely resting place.
”      

             
Nodding, Claire murmured, “I’m sure it
is
,
uh, was
Sheriff
, uh,
Maxwell,
was it?
A
nd I’m indebted to you all.
” Claire suddenly stared up at him with eyes brimming with tears. Her voice was more impassioned than he had heard yet. “
Please, please ta
ke me to her gravesite.” 
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
             
She looked like she might fall over again any second. Maxwell wasn’t quite certain how to react to the clearly distraught woman. He told her firmly,
“Now Miss Secord, there’ll be time for that tomorrow.” He glanced at the sun’s position, “
No doubt you’ve had a long day.
It’s nearly dusk and time for me to be getting you home
and settled
.”   

             
             
Home,
Claire thought,
I don’t have a home
.

Sen
sing
her
hesitation
,
Maxwell
spoke
up quickly
. “Miss Secord, I took the liberty of looking through your aunt’s papers.
I found the telegram announcing your arrival today.
I
also
found a will. She and your uncle left everything to you; their home and their business.”

Claire began to feel faint again; steeling herself, she straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath and said, “Well Sheriff, please direct me home then.” With a look of admiration, he stowed her belongings in the back of a black buggy and helped her up. Gathering her skirts, Claire settled in
and
tried to
look around with interest.

I might as well get used to Omaha. Now that I have a home and a business
,
I’d better start paying attention. There’ll be time to cry in private.
Oh, Aunt Gin!

             
Sheriff Maxwell gathered the reins, clicked to his team, and expertly guided the horses away from the noisy depot, heading down a dusty street toward the far edge of town. Claire
tried
to pay attention
so
s
he would recognize some landmarks later,
but her eyes kept filling with tears and her thro
at felt as if she were choking.
T
hey came to a low
white-washed
building with a
faded but
neatly printed sign—Weikert’s Fine Mercantile.
Maxwell
swung down from the buggy and offered his arm to Claire.

             
“Here we are Miss Secord
,
here’s your new home.”
  She took his hand and stepped down. 
Her long skirt swirled the dust at her feet. She took a step then hesitated.

             
“But, sir,” Claire’s voice was barely above a whisper. She glanced around, not understanding.
“
There
is no
house here.
”

             
“Your aunt and uncle lived in rooms in the back of the building. You can go through the shop or walk around back. See this brick walk
way
,
it winds around to
the back door.”
Claire nodded and looked back at the storefront.
             
             
             
             
             
There were two large glass windows framing a set of double doors. A faded red overhang sheltered a wide porch
that was dusty and unkempt. The porch butted up to the dirt street
. A large planter held a dead plant and a stray cat was scratching in the dirt.
Maxwell turned and looked at Claire trying to see things through her eyes.

I’ll just give her a moment to take this all in
, he thought
. She looks as if she’s about to spill more tears
and
I surely don’t need tha
t.

He
hoisted her trunk onto one
broad
shoulder and walked around the side of the building
. He could hear her trailing behind. He pushed open the narrow back door
and deposited her belongings in the tiny kitchen
.

“
Miss, I’ll be on my way now
.
I
f you need anything my office is just a few doors down the way.”