Taken for English (19 page)

Upstairs, Annie cleared the shelves. From the hall closet she took a set of sheets and two blankets. They weren’t the Amish quilts Leah was probably used to—Annie was still working on her first quilt—but the blankets would keep the girl warm. Remembering a pillow at the last minute, Annie carried the bedding downstairs and set the neat stack on one end of the couch before going back upstairs for the empty shelving unit.

Then she moved to the dining room table and picked up the letter she had addressed to Matthew Beiler. If she hurried, she could still catch the daily pickup time at the small post office at the end of Main Street.

“God,” she said aloud, “may Your will be done. If You want me to help Leah, that’s what I want to do.”

A shudder shot through Ruth. Alan’s countenance changed in an instant. In a fraction of a second, he went from playful and cocky to defensive and brooding. Her eyes moved from Alan to his father, then to Bryan on his way to fetch another cup of coffee, oblivious to the interruption.

This was not the way Ruth had imagined a simple breakfast date with an
English
.

“What are you doing here, Dad?”

“I had to see for myself this forsaken hole-in-the-ground of a town you chose to live in.”

Alan looked at his shoes. Ruth picked up her coffee, wondering if were possible to just slip out of her chair without a fuss. The moment between father and son seemed far too intimate for onlookers. She scooted her chair back a few inches.

“Please don’t go, Ruth.” Alan’s eyes dimmed. “Dad, this is Ruth Beiler, another resident who
chose
this town. Ruth, this is my father, Jason Wellner.”

Ruth felt obliged to say something. “It’s nice to—”

“We’re not here to discuss anyone’s choices but yours.”

Jason Wellner did not even look at Ruth, who was relieved to see Bryan making his way back to the table.

“Then there’s not much to say.” Alan scratched the back of his neck. “I have a job and a place to live. I’m not asking anything from you.”

“This is not what your mother and I had in mind for you. It’s bad enough you chose to study firefighting instead of getting a sensible business degree, but to come here? And bag groceries?”

“Look, here’s Bryan.” Alan pointed weakly.

“This was all his idea, wasn’t it? You always did let him lead you around like a whipped puppy.”

“Dad.”

Ruth’s belly twisted in indignation.

“Hello, Mr. Wellner.” Bryan offered the fresh coffee, but Jason Wellner brushed it away.

“You’re an insurance adjuster, Dad,” Alan said. “You know buildings burn all the time. What’s so bad about my wanting to help people when that happens?”

“There’s no money in helping people.” Wellner stroked his gray mustache.

“Maybe life is not about money,” Bryan said.

Ruth held her breath.

“This conversation does not concern you, Bryan,” Wellner said.

“Then perhaps you should have this conversation in another place.” Bryan met the older man’s glare.

“You’re absolutely right. Alan, let’s go outside.”

“No.” Alan sat in his chair and scooted it in. “I can get some good experience as a volunteer firefighter.”

“Very well,” Wellner said. “You have thirty days to come to your senses and find your room at home waiting for you. I’ll use my contacts to find you a real job. After thirty days, you’re on your own.”

“He’s already on his own.” Bryan took his seat again.

A knot rose from Ruth’s stomach to her throat.

Jason Wellner pivoted and strode across the coffee shop and out the door.

The trio left at the table let out a collective breath.

June 1892

W
hy don’t you let me pick it up for you?” A.G. stood at the bedroom door with his hand on the knob.

“You don’t even know what I ordered.” Bess Byler cast the gray hat onto the bed and picked up the blue one.

“I’m sure the clerk at Denton’s Emporium will have a record of the order.” A.G. stepped to the mirror and stood beside his wife. “The blue one, dear.”

“Aren’t you even curious what I want to pick up?”

A.G. tilted his head. “Something useful. Something we must have.”

Bess slapped his forearm. “Don’t tease me. I want to send some blankets to Malinda.”

“For the children.”

Bess donned the blue hat. “Of course for the children. It’s cold in Colorado.”

A.G. chuckled. “Well, it will be, I suppose.” Not in the middle of June, but if he knew Bess, she was planning to add some embroidery or a new border to the blankets she was buying.

“I haven’t been to Gassville since…” Bess fiddled with her handbag.

“Since John Twigg was shot.” A.G. stilled Bess’s hand then lifted her fingers to his lips. “Are you sure you want to go?”

She took her hand back and snapped the latch on her bag. “I refuse to live in fear. If I gave in to that, I would never want you to go to work.”

A.G. knew Bess sometimes scrubbed the kitchen floor when he rode out to break up a fight, but she would never admit the spit shine had anything to do with his job as sheriff of Baxter County.

“The wagon is out front,” he said. “I think I’ll take an apple out to bribe that stubborn horse.”

“I’ll be right there.”

He kissed her cheek. “Don’t dawdle. I need to go over a few things with Deputy Combs over there, but I want to be back for one of your home-cooked dinners.”

Outside, A.G. opened his palm and revealed the apple. The horse chomped into it immediately. He glanced at the trim white house with the green shutters, wishing Bess would stay home. Gassville was still jumpy. He did not want his wife in the middle of things.

Bess pulled the front door closed behind her, and A.G. gave her a one-sided smile. At sixty-three, the sight of her touched a spot inside him softer than ever.

As he tied up the mare in front of the emporium, A.G. scanned the street. The talk he had with Jimmy Twigg had successfully deterred him from sitting outside his store with a rifle aimed at the emporium, but that did not mean hostilities were calmed. If A.G. could give Bess an uneventful afternoon, though, he would take some pleasure in the day. He held the door open for her.

Inside the store, A.G. removed his hat and nodded at a few customers as he followed Bess to the counter. “Good afternoon, Leon.”

Belle Mooney’s father stood in the center of the main aisle with a claw hammer in one hand.

“How is Belle?” A.G. asked the question softly, deliberately.

Leon shook his head. “How she could let herself fall into the clutches of the Twiggs, I will never understand. She hardly talks to me, even though we’re living in the same house.”

A.G. put both hands in his trouser pockets. He kept forgetting to mention to Bess that the left pocket had a hole in the seam. “Give Belle some time. Her loss is still fresh.”

“It shouldn’t be a loss at all.” Leon gripped the hammer by the claw.

“Well now, that’s for Belle to decide, isn’t it?”

“For a man of the law, you don’t have much sense of justice.”

“For Belle it’s a matter of the heart, Leon.”

Leon grunted. A.G. patted his shoulder and moved up the aisle to where Bess was running her fingers along a bolt of pink-and-green calico.

“Why don’t I go see Deputy Combs and come back for you?” A.G. said.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, I suppose I might be a while.”

The emporium’s front door swung open before A.G. reached it, and a stranger swaggered in. A.G. slowed his pace to size him up. About six feet tall, he commanded an even larger presence. His brown suit was a recent cut. A.G. did not need his fashion-conscious wife to tell him that. Glancing at Leon, A.G. decided a welcome was in order. He extended a hand.

“I don’t recall that I’ve had the pleasure. I’m Abraham Byler.”

The man, not yet twenty-five, tilted his head and raised an eyebrow before accepting the handshake. “Jesse Roper.”

A.G. heard Leon shuffle behind him, and deep in the store, Lee Denton moved behind the counter. A.G. hoped Lee was not trigger-happy enough to pull a gun on a stranger with the sheriff present.

“Leon, have you met Mr. Roper?”

“Don’t you know who he is?” Leon snarled. “What kind of sheriff are you?”

“Sheriff, eh?” Jesse Roper said. “You didn’t mention that.”

A.G. turned his empty hands palms up. “I only meant to offer a friendly welcome.”

Roper laughed and moved up the aisle, pausing here and there to inspect unlikely items. What did a young man like Roper want to do with drawers of buttons and threads? A.G. turned to follow his movements.

“He’s a Twigg, you know.” Leon made no effort to control his volume. “He’s a grandson of Old Man Twigg. Probably a criminal.”

Lee Denton stiffened. Abraham Byler winced.

“Now, Leon, nobody is looking for trouble,” A.G. said. His gaze moved to Lee and held steady.

Between Roper and Denton stood Bess Byler. She had barely lifted her head at the commotion, but A.G. knew she would have absorbed every detail of the exchange.

“Mr. Denton,” Bess said brightly, moving toward the counter, “I do believe I would like to look at your special-order book.”

Lee mocked. “Sheriff Byler, have you considered it might save you some money if you just took your wife to New York to shop?”

“Lee, are you going to let me see that book or not?” Bess caught her husband’s eye, as if to assure him she did not intend to place an order but only to dissipate tension.

Leon stared at Roper, who said, “I believe my business here is concluded. Y’all don’t have the items my grandma asked for. Good day, gentlemen.” He tipped his tall black hat at the Bylers and rammed a shoulder into Leon’s on the way out.

For a moment no one in the shop spoke.

“Leon, are you okay?” A.G. said.

Leon grunted.

“How about you, Lee?”

Lee nodded.

“Promise me you’ll keep your pistols out of this if it should turn into anything.”

“You do your job, Sheriff Byler, and there will be no need for my pistols.”

“The grand jury might see things differently if there is another incident.”

Bess set her handbag on the counter with audible firmness. “Mr. Denton, I will thank you not to put my husband in needless danger.”

Lee’s shoulders sagged. “Aw, Bess, you know how I feel about you two. But I can’t control everyone.” He jabbed a finger toward Leon Mooney. “Him, for instance.”

A.G. moved toward Leon, who was rubbing his shoulder. “Leon.”

“Sheriff.”

“No trouble.”

“There’s a town dance tonight, you know,” Lee Denton said. “What if this character shows up?”

A.G. pivoted with deliberation. “Mrs. Byler, what do you say we have a night out? Dinner at the hotel and then dancing.”

Bess put her fingers to her mouth in feigned shyness. “Why, Sheriff Byler.”

Maura wore her mother’s gloves, even though she would not last more than twenty minutes with them on.

She had tried to persuade Belle to come to the dance at the town hall. Weeks ago they had planned to attend and sewed new dresses and purchased hats from Maura’s uncle Edwin’s milliner shop. Belle had confessed her love for John Twigg and hoped they might announce their engagement soon—perhaps even the night of the dance.