A Bride in Store (23 page)

If only he could remember the last time he’d seen his coin purse. The longer it’d been gone, the more likely his money had fallen into the wrong hands. He’d have to start saving all over again—while running a failing store that might earn him nothing if the sheriff caught Axel and auctioned off their business.

Maybe he should just board up the doors, travel to Atchison, and beg his friend’s great-uncle to start the broom-making apprenticeship immediately. Even if he could successfully sue for the rights to the entire store and auction it off, would that be fair to Axel’s victims or the Langstons?

He hadn’t sympathized enough with Eliza when her savings was stolen. His eighty-four dollars was measly compared to the hundreds she must have lost.

A groan and unladylike mutter sounded just ahead. Will hastened his pace. He recognized the sound of someone getting sick, yet no woman was standing on the sidewalk ahead or slumping against a building. The groan echoed again. Down the next alley, a girl, doubled over, held herself upright with a mop while clutching her stomach.

He rushed down the alley. “Are you all right?”

Eliza looked up at him, pale and disheveled. “I will be.”

He couldn’t help but push back the damp hair from her forehead and check her temperature. “You don’t feel hot, but you look sweaty and flushed.”

“I’m not used to carting around entrails and cow parts that swish . . .” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I have to stop looking at whatever’s floating in my mop bucket.” She put her hand to her mouth.

“And you better stop imagining it as well.”

She nodded and took a deep breath.

“What’re you doing?”

She dumped her water, letting the nastiness drain down the alley. “As you suggested, I found a business that needed my help. I promised to start working today.”

He wrinkled his nose at the smell finally entering his consciousness. “This wasn’t exactly what I meant.”

Shaking her head, she dropped onto the side steps of the butcher’s store. Had he ever seen her sit while working?

“I asked every business on Main Street, Maple, Fourth, and Fifth, but the butcher was the only one willing to hire me.”

Mr. Raymond hadn’t offered her anything? Will rubbed the back of his neck. The banker must have judged her by her gender rather than her acumen.

Will sighed. It had been worth a try.

She grabbed the stair railing and peered up at him through the bars. “Its all right. Things are going to get better soon.”

He squatted to eye level. “You shame me.”

“How’s that? As a doctor, you’ve probably seen nastier things than floating pig entrails. On the farm, you’ve probably even been covered in them.”

“That’s not what I was talking about.” He moved to sit beside her, the narrow stairs forcing him to push aside her skirt. “I’m leaving work early because I don’t feel like doing my job, whereas you’re doing work that turns your stomach. I do believe I have more of Axel in me than I care for.”

She leaned away from him. “How’s that?”

“I’m lazy.”

Her chuckle added some color to her face. “I’ve seen you work at the shop all day, then lug your medical box out to help someone before the sun goes down.”

He ground his bootheel into the dirt. “Nevertheless, I should be working instead of pining for my hardships to go away.”

She shrugged. “Well, I now know one thing.” She grinned at
him. “I might be able to force myself through a week or two of this”—she gestured toward the mop bucket—“but not a lifetime. So I can cross off marrying the butcher’s son as the way for me to escape my troubles.”

Her lopsided smile did not elicit the chuckle she’d likely expected from him, but rather a jab to his middle. “No, I don’t advise marrying a butcher’s son.” Heaven help him if she met the butcher’s eldest. Micah was an adventurous land surveyor with a ready smile and flippant charm.

“Doctor’s orders?”

Oh, if only she’d let him write a prescription to ban her from all men but himself.

She blinked but didn’t lose eye contact. Her grin faded. “Will?”

He swallowed hard but didn’t look away. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t fabricate brooms or believe himself capable of reattaching himself to Nancy. Sitting next to Eliza with her apron covered in slop and a smear of something unidentifiable across her cheek didn’t dampen his desire to pull her into an embrace.

And test out those lips.

How on earth could he have continued to live in Salt Flatts with Mrs. Eliza Langston? He’d have been besotted with a married woman.

She cleared her throat. “Now it’s my turn to ask if you’re all right. You look a bit . . . peaked.”

“Just distracted by what’s on your face.” He pulled out his handkerchief and reached for her cheek. How he longed to touch her face without the hindrance of a cloth, but he hadn’t the right.

“Oh.” She frowned as he rubbed, pulling her skin taut and leaving her cheek rosier. Though he’d successfully wiped the smear off her face, he didn’t take his hand away. This close, he could see the golden flecks hidden in her brown irises, the minuscule freckles across the bridge of her nose, the slightly off-center philtrum above
her mouth. No wonder the term meant love charm—he couldn’t take his eyes off the little indentation above her top lip.

But the alley was too smelly for courting, the timing all wrong. He needed to stop touching her before he kissed her amidst the muck—where any passerby could see. He stuffed his handkerchief into his pocket. “I plan to stay in town.”

She scrunched her eyebrows.

“Instead of becoming a broom maker.”

“Right. I figured with Axel not being around, you’d have to stay . . . for the store.”

“For a while, anyway.” He’d need to find a way to get to medical school before everything fell apart. How long until she was over her wedding mishap and might welcome his court? How many weeks needed to pass before declaring his intent wouldn’t make him seem like an impatient buzzard? “I’ll be around.”

He’d not steal kisses in an alley now. Nor hover like Lynville.

“Miss Cantrell?” The butcher’s voice boomed from the interior, and they both startled.

How long had they been sitting staring at each other?

Eliza struggled to stand, so he reached down to help her. His fingers locked on to her elbows, and he pulled her up, but his hands refused to let go.

She tugged a little, then stilled. “I’d better get back to work. I’ve never taken a break this long in my life.”

“Right.” He still didn’t release her.

“Will?” The whisper of his name sent chills along his arms.

He squeezed her a bit more. “Promise me you won’t marry any of the butcher’s sons.”

“I won’t.” She swallowed, her eyes locking on his. “Anything else?”

Promise not to think of anyone but me.
“No, nothing else for now.”

“I’ll see you later, then?”

“Sooner.”

The moment she disappeared into the butcher shop, he strode out of the alley. The first thing he had to do was find his eighty-four dollars, then figure out how to get the store running so well he could pay a lawyer to help him figure out what he could do with the store that might help his coffers.

What else would he need to do to make Eliza find a life with him more appealing than owning a store?

Thinking about kissing would definitely have to wait until after he got his life together enough to keep Eliza from running away from the disaster he was at the moment.

Chapter 16

Will glanced at the clock. Quarter to five. He walked past the aisles to see if he’d missed a customer, but the store was still empty, as it’d been for the last two hours.

He hung his hammer on the storage room wall. The people in this town should be done shunning him because of Axel. If he’d been implicated in his friend’s shenanigans, the sheriff would have hauled him in already.

But no matter how much he berated the townsfolk in his mind, they didn’t listen.

Though there was one good thing about being spurned: he could close the store early every day and look for Eliza. He’d walked past the butcher every afternoon since first seeing her there—hoping to catch her dumping her mop bucket.

He wasn’t about to court her on the butcher’s stairs, but was hoping to talk to her for a minute or two so bad?

He’d only caught her twice. Both days had been Thursdays, and today was Thursday again. But if he didn’t find her, he ought to go see Silas Jonesey. Will hadn’t been invited back to his farm, but the man needed some human conversation and perhaps a game of chess to keep his spirits up. Jonesey spent entirely too much time alone.

The front door opened, tripping the little bell.

He closed his eyes and let out a tiny groan. A chance to see Eliza or a chance to sell something? Other than the store’s selection of canned goods, he was frightfully close to going without food. Of course, finding his missing savings would help buy groceries, but he had yet to find his change purse. He needed a coin or two in his pocket more than he needed to see Eliza.

At least that’s what his stomach told him.

He dragged himself up front.

“Good afternoon, William.” The sheriff pulled off his hat.

Will slowed. Did the man bring good or bad news this time? The best news would be that he’d caught Axel sitting atop a pile of loot. “Did you find Axel?”

“The sheriff’s deputies up in Atchison have taken over the search since that’s where we caught the Wallers.”

Will pressed a hand against his hollow stomach. “What can I do you for, then?”

“Several businesses have reported missing merchandise. Have you noticed anything amiss? Seen anyone lurking around or have something unaccounted for?”

“I am missing something, but I thought I’d misplaced it. Has anyone turned in a circular leather pouch containing eighty-four dollars?”

The sheriff whistled. “That’s a lot to misplace.”

“Don’t I know it.” Though the money wasn’t near enough to go to school. “I can’t recall seeing anyone doing anything suspicious or unusual.”

The sheriff pinned him with a narrow-eyed gaze. “I have to ask this, Will—why have been you walking down Main Street aimlessly peering into windows?”

Huh? Certainly the sheriff didn’t think he—

“When I’ve asked others about suspicious activity, three people pointed fingers at you. Now I’ve known you for a long time, but I’ve known Axel about that long too. . . .” The sheriff scratched
at his chin. “This ain’t the time for acting suspicious. I’m a mite concerned you’re still helping the man.”

“Uh . . .” He squirmed a bit under the sheriff’s intense glare. “The townsfolk are looking for someone to blame. I’m not checking out anyone’s property or wandering . . .” All right, so pacing near the butcher’s in the afternoons was happening a lot lately.

He tugged at his tie. “I, uh, have been walking the street lately, but not for that purpose. I’ve been . . . agitated, but I’m not your thief.”

If he’d been alone, he would have smacked himself. How would he regain customers hoofing around town like a madman so he could
accidentally
cross Eliza’s path to ask her nothing more than how she was doing? He should just stand at the end of the alley and wait for her. Let her know he’d come to see her.

The door swung open so quickly, the sheriff barely jumped out of the way before being smacked in the shoulder.

The banker’s eyes roved like a panicked calf cornered in a stall. Hugh’s gaze fastened onto Will. “I need you. You owe me a medical visit.”

“Of course, Mr. Raymond, but the sheriff and I—”

Hugh turned to face the sheriff. “I apologize for interrupting, but my wife is ill. When I left her this morning, I thought it was nothing. The Nogales girl came a few hours ago, but I barely understood what she said with her Spanish mixed in, and fool that I am, I decided to finish a transaction, and then got sidetracked . . .” He swung his gaze back to Will and grabbed his arm. “Come.”

The sheriff ducked his head in dismissal as he followed them outside.

Will sighed and locked the door. Eliza was right. He kept plenty busy—doing things that earned him no money. He’d never realized how unrelenting the demand for a doctor could be—and he wasn’t even trying to be one at the moment. “What’s wrong with your wife?”

Hugh ran around his buggy and jumped into the driver’s seat. “I don’t know. That’s your job to figure out.”

Will climbed up beside him and almost bounced back off the seat as Hugh smacked his horses and they shot off.

When they careened around a slow, plodding donkey cart, Will grabbed for a second handhold. “I mean, what are her symptoms?” He glanced toward the butcher’s alley as they raced by. A fleeting glimpse of Eliza and her mop bucket made him wish he could wave at her, but he couldn’t let go of his seat.

Even if he did, they had already sped past the alley.

“I’d figured it’s what always bothers her in the spring.” Hugh hollered at a man to make way before smacking his poor horse again.

He’d never seen Hugh this agitated. “And the Nogales girl said . . . ?”

“That Deborah was sick and I should go home early. That’s all I understood!” He jerked his hands, strangling the reins, but the moment his horses slowed to a trot, he none too gently prodded them faster. “How was I supposed to know she was emptying her stomach every hour and paler than a ghost?”

So vomiting, pale, and symptoms of a catarrh. Hopefully nothing more than something she ate. Hugh took a turn too fast, and the buggy leaned dangerously onto its two right wheels. Will clamped onto the man’s arm. “Reaching your wife five minutes faster is not worth killing us both. Slow down. She’ll not get any help if you’ve broken both our necks.”

The man pulled back slightly on the reins, but his jaw clamped. “Just a little.”

Will swallowed and nodded his approval.

Hugh’s wife might very well be on her way to eternity, but they didn’t have to take Salt Flatts’ pedestrians and themselves along with her on the journey.