Song of My Heart (28 page)

Sid latched the gate on the freight wagon Monday morning and turned to face Sadie. “Well, that’s that. Guess I’m ready.” He tried not to frown when he looked at her. She appeared even thinner than she had a week ago. And sadder. He wished he had time to stay and talk, the way she’d asked. She said she had something important to talk to him about, but it would have to wait until he returned from his trip. Asa had promised him a daylong break in between deliveries when he got back. A full day of no work would be nice. And it’d give him time to take Sadie to supper, for her to share whatever secret she carried.

She linked her hands behind her back, peering at him with dark-rimmed eyes while the wind billowed her skirt and tossed one loose strand of hair across her cheek. “I wish you didn’t have to go. It’s kind of frightening right now, knowing somebody broke into the mercantile and caused such destruction.”

Sid had heard about the break-in as soon as he’d returned to town yesterday evening, but he could make little sense of the situation. When somebody broke into a place, they usually stole something. But the Baxters insisted nothing was missing, so someone had merely ransacked the mercantile. He gave Sadie’s shoulder a squeeze. “Now, you heard what the sheriff said. Probably some kids playing a mean prank. No need to be afraid.”

“I suppose.” She heaved a sigh, then looked at him again, a weak smile curving her lips. “So . . . are you heading to Abilene again?”

“Beloit this time, but it’ll be just as many days as last week.”

How he hated being gone more days than not. But Asa had doubled his salary. He was already looking at moving into a nicer house—one with a real front porch and maybe a carriage shed out back so he could buy a buggy and a horse. Thinking of the things he’d be able to provide for Sadie made the separation bearable.

She sighed. “I’ll miss you.”

The simple statement made him smile. If they weren’t out in the open where anyone passing on the boardwalk would see, he’d snatch her close in a hug. Maybe even give her a kiss. But he couldn’t do something so brazen in the middle of the street. So he teased, “Aw, you’ll just miss the little goodies I leave for you on the porch.”

She ducked her head, showing him the neat part in her hair.

“But don’t worry. When I get back, I’ll have somethin’ special for you to make up for it.” He’d heard Beloit had a store that sold jewelry and pretty gewgaws. He might not have the courage to buy Sadie an engagement ring or brooch just yet, but surely she’d appreciate a pretty china figurine or painted hair receiver—something more lasting than the little things he’d picked up for her thus far.

She shook her head, one loose strand of hair bouncing along her cheek. “You don’t have to buy me anything, Sid. Just be safe and . . . and hurry back, all right?”

His heart caught. It was the kind of thing a wife would say when her husband took off on a trip. His arms itched. Watchful eyes or not, he should pull her close. But she was already stepping up on the boardwalk, out of reach. “Will do,” he said, his throat tight. He climbed into the seat and took up the reins. “Bye, Sadie.”

She waved, and he gave the reins a flick. The horses strained against the rigging, and the wagon rolled down Main Street. One wheel jounced over a rock, and Sid heard a clink. He glanced into the bed, frowning. The crates were all stamped “Navy Beans,” but beans didn’t clink. Should he stop and pry open the crates to find out what made the noise?

“Don’t be foolish,” he berated himself. The rock probably bounced up under the wagon and hit a piece of metal. He faced forward and clicked his teeth on his tongue. “Get up there, now,” he commanded Rudy and Hec. The horses obediently broke into a gentle trot.

He ought to reach Brittsville by noon or shortly after. The town didn’t have a café, but the stationmaster’s daughter was a good cook. If a stage was due in at some point during the day, she’d have something simmering on the stove, and he’d buy lunch from her. The last time he’d been in Brittsville, he’d only had to pay twenty-five cents for a big bowl of beans with chunks of bacon, biscuits, and so much coffee he sloshed when he left. A bargain. And he’d thoroughly enjoyed chatting with the comely young woman. If he hadn’t already given his heart to Sadie, he might even consider taking up with her.

Even Sadie had expressed dismay when she’d packed his basket of supplies for this trip. “A man needs more than dried beef, cheese, and crackers, Sid,” she’d said, shaking her head. “Why not ask Cora to make some decent sandwiches for you? Or maybe you could take one of her fruit pies.” Then she’d sighed and added, “If I had a house with a kitchen, I’d bake a batch of corn bread or cook up a pot of stew you could take and reheat on the trail.”

In the end, he’d allowed her to tuck several strings of licorice and a bag of gumdrops into the basket so he’d have a sweet treat. His heart had thrilled at her desire to fix something special for him. Surely that meant she was starting to look at him differently. And as soon as he had a nice house—including a kitchen with a real built-in cupboard and the best stove he could buy—he’d come right out and ask her to be his wife.

Caught up in his thoughts of his future with Sadie, he gave a start when the horses both lifted their noses and snorted. He squinted ahead against the bright morning sun and spotted a horse and rider, the horse’s rump hidden by thick brush. As Sid approached, the rider urged the horse onto the road, holding up his hand. With the sun in his eyes, Sid didn’t recognize the man at first, but when he called out, Sid knew the voice. He grunted in aggravation. Couldn’t he get away from Goldtree’s sheriff?

Sid set the brake but kept his hand on the wooden shaft. “What’re you doin’ out here, McKane?”

“Makin’ my rounds,” the man replied in a friendly manner.

Sid looked around. Not a farmhouse in sight. Why did the sheriff need to make rounds out here where nobody lived? He started to ask, but he caught the man peering into the back of the wagon.

McKane leaned over and patted the wooden top on one crate. “You headin’ out on another delivery?”

Sid nodded.

“Baxter’s been keeping you busy lately. Where to this time?”

Sid didn’t see how his job as drayman was any of the sheriff’s business, but he answered anyway. “Beloit.”

McKane grabbed the brim of his hat and shifted it around a bit, as if he was scratching his head. “Isn’t that east of here?”

“Yep. But the best roads are from Goldtree to Brittsville, then Brittsville to Beloit. A little longer, but easier on the horses.” Sid had no idea why he bothered with such a lengthy explanation, but for reasons he couldn’t explain he suddenly felt uneasy in the lawman’s presence. “Takin’ a load of beans to the liveryman over in Beloit.”

McKane’s eyebrows shot up. “Beans? To a liveryman?” He laughed, and his horse shied at the sound. Giving the big animal a pat on the neck, he added, “Seems like an odd thing for a liveryman to request.”

Sid hadn’t thought much about it when Asa told him where to take the crates, but now that he’d said it out loud, it did sound strange. He shrugged. “I just do what I’m told.”

For long seconds, McKane stared into Sid’s face, as if searching for something under Sid’s skin. Sid got twitchy beneath the man’s intense scrutiny. He wanted to get going.

Finally, McKane smiled. “Well, reckon I better send you on. Beloit’s a good distance. Have a safe trip, Sid.” He backed the horse away from the wagon and touched the brim of his hat before trotting his horse into the bushes again.

Sid released the brake and chirped to the horses. As the wagon rolled onward, he glanced over his shoulder and caught the sheriff watching after him. He experienced a little chill of unrest. The sheriff was up to something. But what?

27 

T
had watched the freight wagon roll over a gentle rise, discounting Sid Wagner as a suspect. When he’d seen the neatly stacked crates in the back of the wagon, he’d wondered if Sid might be coming to the cave to fill those crates with jugs of beer. But no hollow thud sounded when he’d patted the crate—it was already full. Of beans. For the liveryman in Beloit.

Thad chuckled. It seemed a little strange, but who knew why a man who rented out wagons for a living wanted a couple dozen crates of beans. Maybe he ran a boardinghouse, too, and needed to feed his boarders. Maybe he just liked beans. Either way, Sid hadn’t appeared to be interested in slowing that wagon until Thad stopped him, so he probably wasn’t heading to the cave.

Sweat trickled down Thad’s temple, and he reached for the water canteen on the back of the saddle. He guzzled a drink, grateful for the cool water on his parched throat. It promised to be a hot day—typical of late July in Kansas. But he intended to spend time at this post until he’d finally caught somebody heading to that makeshift underground brewery. He’d rather be in town than on this roadside, walking the streets instead of straddling this horse. It was quiet out here—lonely. He missed being able to tip his hat to the ladies, toss an errant ball back to a group of rowdy youngsters, and stop by the mercantile for a handful of jelly beans and bit of conversation with Miss Sadie.

His heart twisted. On Sunday, they’d had to cancel their picnic after the disaster in the mercantile. Hadn’t seemed right for her to leave when the Baxters needed her help cleaning up. But it had taken his only chance to talk to her about the song she’d been singing. He felt sneaky, knowing about it without her awareness. The sooner he could talk to her, the better.

A rustle caught his attention. Somebody was coming. But not along the road—through the brush. The horse nickered, and Thad stroked the animal’s neck, whispering, “Hush now.” Thad’s pulse tripped into double beats. He slid from the saddle, catching the horse’s reins and wrapping them loosely around the closest sapling. The horse rolled his eyes, tossing his head.

“Shhh, boy,” Thad intoned, his senses alert.

The rustle came again, closer this time. Thad inched around the horse, placing his feet carefully to avoid alerting the intruder to his presence. Off to his right, he spotted a movement. Another rustle, followed by the thrashing of brush. Thad crouched, his fingers flexing in anticipation. Then when the leafy branches moved again, he let out a whoop of warning and leaped directly into the visitor’s pathway.

Sadie placed the final bolt of cloth on the fabric table, then raised her apron skirt and wiped her brow. The heat was unbearable today. Not even opening both the front and back doors to allow a cross breeze helped. And the gusts of hot wind carried in dust as well as blew the little paper signs advertising the week’s specials from their restraining tacks.

How far might Sid have traveled by now? Had the wind slowed him down? He must be miserable, high on that wagon seat with the sun beating down and grit peppering him. And how much more miserable he’d be when he learned she’d agreed to court Thad. She wished she’d had the chance to talk to him before he’d left. The longer she waited, the more likely it became he’d hear it from someone else. The news would hurt him—something that pained her—but she had to let him know. His comment about finding her something special in Beloit told her he hadn’t released his desire to become her beau.

Sadie glanced at the ticking wall clock and sighed. Closing time was still two hours away. How she wished she could go to Republican Creek, which flowed a quarter mile behind town, and dip her feet in the cool water. Perhaps stretch out along the bank beneath some sheltering cottonwoods and sleep the remainder of the afternoon. But tasks awaited attention.

Wearily, she turned toward the counter. Just as she took a step, the screen door flew open, causing the little bell to clang wildly. Gasping in fear—had the mischief makers returned?—she spun toward the door. Thad stepped over the threshold and stopped in a wide-legged pose, his hat in his hand and his hair standing in sweat-damp spikes. A pungent, telltale odor accompanied him.

Sadie pinched her nose and spluttered, her eyes watering. “Oh, Thad . . . phew!”

Miss Melva bustled from the corner of the store, waving both hands at him. “Fool man, get outta here! You’re gonna stink up the whole place!”

From the other side of the store, Miss Shelva began coughing. “Out! Out!”

Thad didn’t budge. “I need tomatoes. Lots of ’em. Many as you’ve got.”

Miss Melva planted her hands on his chest, gave him a push, then skittered away, her face pinched with distaste. “We’ll deliver ’em to your office. Now get out afore that stink fixes itself to every piece o’ merchandise in the store!”

Thad departed in a stiff-legged gait. The Baxter twins fluttered around in confusion for a few minutes, fanning their shelves of goods as if to chase away the lingering odor. Sadie thought their actions ludicrous, but she couldn’t blame them for wanting to rid the store of the stench. Nature surely possessed no more unpleasant aroma than the one excreted by skunks.

Miss Melva charged into the storeroom and returned with an empty crate. Flinging her arm toward the back door, she said, “Sadie, go fetch Asa’s wheelbarrow an’ hike it on in here.”

Miss Shelva dove into the aisle where canned goods lined the shelves. “We’ll fill it up with every last can o’ tomaters in stock, but I don’t reckon it’ll be near enough.”