When the Heart Heals (26 page)

“No more than I had with the notes I brought you earlier.”

“Anyone particular bothering you?”

“I can't go anywhere now without someone muttering behind my back.” She told him about the man she'd encountered in the grocery when she took the teas to Jacob. “But no one person in particular, no.”

He tipped his chair back against the wall and tugged at a corner of his moustache. “Blast it all. Here I'd been hoping things had quieted down.” He huffed out a breath. “Can you tell me who all you've given your cures to? Anyone with a special complaint?”

She shook her head. “I'll bring you the names of those I remember, but I have no idea who bought my herbs at the mercantile. Could be any number of people. Tinctures and teas have been for sale there since March.”

“Gotta be a way to figure this out. I've heard the gossip going around, but anyone could have written this.” He flicked the crumpled paper with his finger.

“That's what concerns me. I'll have the names I know for you tomorrow. Maybe Faith can provide a few more.”

His chair thudded to the floor and he stood. “Don't you worry none. We'll get to the bottom of this.”

When she left his office, all she could think of was pouring her fears out to Faith. Having the sheriff tell her not to worry was a concern in itself, considering how long it took him to solve the mystery of the robbery at the mercantile.

R
osemary shot a quick glance around for hostile faces before slipping into the mercantile. The chairs next to the checkerboard were empty, as she'd expected this late in the afternoon. Faith tossed her a wave and then returned her attention to a customer who apparently couldn't decide between two oil lamps.

At the rear of the store, a man dressed in a jacket and tie surveyed the shotgun display. Aside from Faith's brief acknowledgment, no one paid attention to her. She moved to a glass-enclosed counter that held doorknobs and lock sets. Sturdier locks for both of her doors would have to be installed. She'd see if Curt was free tomorrow . . . or maybe Elijah would be willing to help her. It wouldn't hurt to ask.

After the woman at the counter left with her parcel, Faith joined Rosemary. “Did the doctor's train arrive on time?”

“Yes, thankfully.” For a moment she'd forgotten that her trip to the station had precipitated her visit to the sheriff.

“So why aren't the two of you spending the afternoon together?” Faith's voice teased.

Rosemary leaned close to her friend's ear. “Something
happened today.” She whispered where the message was found and what the paper said.

At Faith's shocked expression, she continued. “Someone had to have been near my house in order to tack that to the gate in the short time I was away.”

“How frightening! Please go pack your things. Curt will come for you as soon as school is dismissed.”

She shook her head. “With new locks and Bodie there, I'll be perfectly safe. Besides, no one's ever tried to get into the house.”

“Yet.”

Bending over the display of locks, Rosemary pointed at a square metal box with a heavy key attached. “If I have these on my doors, even you won't worry.”

“Why don't you stop being so stubborn and let us look after you? I'm still hoping you'll agree to live with us after Amy and Thaddeus are married. That's only a month from now.”

“There must be someone else who'd be willing. As fond as I am of your grandfather, you know I want to stay where I am.”

“Even now?”

The man looking at shotguns turned his head toward them. “Mrs. Saxon, I'd like to see that Perkins you have on the rack.”

“I'll be right there.” She laid her hand on Rosemary's arm. “Please wait.”

Bustling over to the wall, she lifted the double-barreled weapon from its grooved holder and handed it to the shopper. After he rubbed the stock, sighted along the front bead, and opened the breech, he grunted and returned the shotgun to her. “Handsome firearm. Little too rich for my means, though.”

The bell over the door jingled as he departed.

Faith rejoined Rosemary, shaking her head. “That shotgun's going to get worn out with men looking at it. Someone was in here the other day, an odd little man. Practically
drooled on the barrels, but ended up not buying that or anything else.” She frowned as she related the incident. “I was glad the woodstove regulars were here at the time. The fellow gave me an uneasy feeling.”

Rosemary glanced around the deserted store. “Would you like me to wait here with you until you close?”

“Not unless you come home with me afterwards.”

She shook her head and pointed at the locks. “With these I'll be as secure as if I were in one of Sheriff Cooper's cells.”

The cases of her new steel lock sets clanked together as Rosemary walked home from West & Riley's with a lemon and a package of sugar riding at the top of her carryall. She'd bake a loaf of bread this evening, then tomorrow invite Elijah to help her with the installation.

The afternoon had grown so still that even the birds were silent. Bruised clouds piled overhead, their edges fiery in the setting sun. She quickened her pace. Hoofbeats sounded behind her and in a moment Sheriff Cooper reined his horse to a halt in front of the post office.

“Miss Saxon. We'd best get you home. Storm's brewing.” He slid from the saddle and tied the animal to a hitching post. “Soon as I ask Mr. Lyons if there's a new crop of wanted posters, I'll see you to your door.”

“My house is just on the next street. I thank you, but that's not necessary.”

“I believe it is.” He gazed down at her, his mouth set in a half smile. “You don't have your dog with you, so you get me instead.” He pointed at the door. “After you.”

Lifting her chin, she preceded him inside, chafing at his overprotectiveness. She stood to one side while Mr. Lyons gave him several handbills.

“Here's something for you, Miss Saxon,” the postmaster said, holding out a square envelope. “Two letters in one week. You're keeping me busy.”

She smiled to indicate she appreciated his little joke. “That's two more than I've had in the past month. Thank you.” She glanced at the sender's name written on the back flap.
Haddon. St. Louis.

Word from Cassie. Pleasant news would be welcome after the events of the afternoon. She tucked the missive into her carryall, eager to learn what her friend had to say.

Sheriff Cooper held the door open for her. “I'll ride alongside until you get home.”

“Thank you.” Resigned to his presence, she resumed her pace. The clop of the animal's hooves mimicked the sound of her heels on the boardwalk. She hated to admit it, but she appreciated the feeling of security she gained from the sturdy chestnut gelding and its tall rider.

At her gate, he reined in his horse and leaned over the saddle. “Soon's you get inside, I'll be on my way.”

“You're very kind.” After unfastening the bolt, she locked the gate behind her, then turned to wave when she reached her porch.

The sheriff tipped his hat before riding into the gathering dusk. A flash of lightning forked across the sky as she closed her door. The windows rattled with an explosion of thunder.

She hurried into the kitchen and lit the lamp over the table. With Bodie trembling at her feet after each rumble of thunder, she tore open the envelope from Cassie and drew out a thin sheet of paper. Her friend's tiny script covered both sides of the page.

Dear Rosemary,

Mother and I are again staying with my uncle, my father's brother, here in St. Louis. I fear we're not the
most welcome of guests, as they are already crowded with his numerous family members. However, Mother says ‘family is family,' and he dare not turn us away.

After several paragraphs describing her uncle's home and his children, Cassie continued,

While I am once more relishing my mother's companionship, I must admit to feeling awkward about our circumstances. My uncle's wife is decidedly chilly toward us.

Enough complaining. My purpose in writing, other than to say thank you again for giving me shelter in your home, is to ask that you would arrange to have my trunk sent as soon as is convenient. Enclosed you will find a draft for the expense of shipping. Please address the trunk in care of my uncle, Rudolph Haddon, at the location printed at the end of this letter. The stationmaster in St. Louis will arrange for delivery. Thank you in advance for your trouble.

I miss you terribly. If time permits, I would love to have a letter from you. Or better yet, dare I suggest a visit?

Affectionately, your friend,
Cassie

Rosemary dropped onto a chair and reread the missive. How like Cassie to suggest a visit—she'd never known the necessity of steady employment. Rosemary wasn't free to travel on a whim, nor did she have any desire to return to St. Louis.

When Rosemary looked outside on Saturday morning, mist hung like steam over the ground. Puddles glittered in the golden sunrise. In spite of her claims of fearlessness, her heartbeat increased as she slipped into a work dress and boots to check her yard for intruders. With the noise of the storm last night, a person could have torn her gate off its hinges and she wouldn't have heard a sound.

Bodie waited while she descended the stairs, his tail beating the air, then barged outside as soon as she opened the kitchen door. The sweet fragrance of moist earth and greenery greeted her when she stepped onto the back porch. She leaned against the railing to savor the early coolness. Soon enough the sun would be high, and June would deliver another sticky, oven-like day.

Bodie sniffed in circles along the fence line, then sped around the house. Rosemary hurried off the porch to follow after him. Losing him once was enough.

When she reached the front yard, she stopped. Bodie stood at the fence in a half crouch, his tail extended like that of a hunting dog, his fur ridged along his spine.

“What is it, boy? What do you smell?” She moved toward him with slow steps. Nothing appeared disturbed. No footprints. The gate was closed.

She planted her hands on her hips. “That's enough. Let's go in.” Bending over, she tucked her hand under his collar and pulled him away from the pickets. Then she saw what he'd sensed.

The gate was closed but unbolted.

Rosemary pounded up the back steps and slammed the door behind her. As soon as she breakfasted and changed clothes, she'd call on Elijah to ask him to install her locks.

She shook off a worry that he'd think her request was presumptuous. After all, more than once he'd expressed concern
about her welfare. She'd give him the opportunity to show her he meant what he said.

After feeding Bodie, she prepared a hasty meal of toasted cornbread and jasmine tea, which she ate while staring out the kitchen window. Her hands shook when she lifted her teacup.

An hour later, Rosemary stood on Elijah's porch and knocked. She held a towel-wrapped loaf of lemon-thyme bread on a plate in her left hand. Quick footsteps sounded from inside. His face brightened when he opened the door and saw her. He wore a loose tan shirt and the type of trousers she remembered her father wearing when he planned to relax at home.

“What a perfect way to start my day. I was afraid the knock would be a patient calling me out.”

“I am calling you out, in a way. I came to ask for your help.”

“Anything. Name it.”

“Yesterday after we parted, I purchased sturdier locks for my doors.”

“Very wise.”

“Would you be willing to install them for me?” Smiling, she held the plate of bread in front of her. “Here's payment in advance.”

His fingers brushed hers as he took the offering, sending a tingle along her arms. “Spending time with you is payment enough, but I thank you. You know how much I enjoy your bread.” He took a step backward and put the plate on a table next to the open door. “Excuse me while I get my tools.”

In moments, he returned, swinging a canvas satchel in one hand. “When I've finished, would you like to go for a buggy ride? Maybe to Pioneer Lake?” He tucked his free hand under
her arm as they descended his porch steps. “I feel we have a lot of catching up to do after my long absence.”

“I'd love to.” The fear she'd felt earlier that morning drowned in a wave of pleasure. Once her new locks were in place, what difference would it make if someone opened her gate? She'd be safe inside.