Courting Miss Adelaide (18 page)

In the Tulley barnyard, Charles brought the horse to a standstill. A black-and-white Border collie barked hello, then ambled over to greet them.

Charles hopped from the buggy, scratched the dog behind the ears and then crossed to her side. Before Adelaide could climb down, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground.

She wanted to linger in his strong arms, but she had a mission. Giving wide berth to his horse, she started for the house, hoping Mr. Tulley had something tangible against Ed.

An hour later Adelaide’s spirits flagged. Mr. Tulley had said only positive things, praising Ed for working his fields while Mr. Tulley’s hand healed after losing two fingers to a saw. He’d given example after example of Drummond’s willingness to help a neighbor—raising a barn after a tornado, pitching in to harvest crops for an elderly widow.

Charles handed Adelaide into the carriage. “I’m sorry you didn’t find what you expected, but after Tulley’s assurances, you should feel better about William’s safety.”

“I’ve seen Ed Drummond in action. He’s not the saint Mr. Tulley made him out to be.”

“I’m not saying he’s a saint, but there’s no evidence he’s a child beater, either,” Charles said, climbing in beside her.

As a newsman, Charles would never trust her instincts on this. She had to find evidence.

As they drove up the lane, possibilities scuttled through Adelaide’s mind. “If we did a story on the orphans, we’d have an excuse to gather information on the Drummonds.”

Charles flicked the reins and they started down the lane. “You’re looking for trouble where none exists. Drop it.”

“Because you don’t want me involved in the paper?”

He scowled. “A newspaper isn’t a tool for your agenda.”

She folded her arms across her chest. Charles couldn’t see trouble if it were marked with a capital
T.
If she could get out to the Drummond farm, she’d do some investigating of her own. “I’d like to learn to ride or maybe practice driving a buggy.”

“Really? What made you change your mind?”

“You did.”

Charles beamed. “How about starting tomorrow after Emma leaves for school? I’ll have you back before time to open.”

Her stomach clenched, but she agreed. She’d no longer allow her fear of horses to control her life. Tomorrow she’d learn the skills that would enable her to check on William and Frances and uncover the truth. She could no more ignore Ed Drummond’s treatment of William than she could allow Mr. Sparks to scare her from her goal of improving life for women. Since the banker had threatened to take Emma, she’d prayed daily about her desire to work for suffrage and felt in her bones that God had given her this mission, along with the task of protecting the Grounds children. She couldn’t allow intimidation to shape her decisions. If she turned her back on others, she couldn’t face herself in the mirror each morning.

Charles’s piercing eyes scrutinized her. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Hoping to ease his inspection, she put a hand on Charles’s arm. Such a small thing, she supposed, to feel the hard muscle of a man’s forearm beneath the fiber of his shirt. But these small touches enthralled her. She forced her mind away from what she could not have. “How did you get into the newspaper business?”

“It’s a long story but I’ll give you the condensed version. I left home at fifteen and saw a sign in the window of a small weekly newspaper.” He grinned. “No one else applied, so I got a job setting type. I slept in the back on a cot, swept the place, did whatever needed doing. In time, my overworked boss asked me to write a news item. One thing led to another.” He chuckled. “You could say I fell in love with the smell of ink.”

“I’m sure you love more than that.”

“I found the urgency of deadlines and being tapped into the pulse of the community, the entire nation, exciting. Since then, my life has revolved around the newspaper business.” He frowned. “I’m talking too much.”

“I love hearing about your life.” Charles had been quite young to be on his own. “So why did you leave home at fifteen?”

He shrugged. “My mother died. Sam had already left. No reason to stick around.” He said no more, but she knew by the way he bit off the words that saying more would open wounds.

“With all you’ve experienced as a boy, why can’t you understand my concern about William?”

“My past was hardly the little rough wagon ride that upset you. You have no idea what I went through.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Sam and I became experts at lying, could make up a reason for a black eye or cracked rib in two seconds flat.”

Her throat closed at his words and she swallowed convulsively. If only someone had helped him. If only she could help him now. “Didn’t anyone get suspicious?”

“If they did, they never did anything about it. No one helped us, Addie.” He took a deep breath and the sound rattled through him like a speeding train on a mile-high trestle. “No one.” Charles met her gaze. The pain in his eyes wrenched her heart. “It’s not the same as William, not the same at all.”

“My heart aches for you, for the defenseless little boy you were. But isn’t your childhood proof we don’t know what’s happening behind closed doors?”

“Isn’t it possible Ed’s lack of patience is because he’s still grieving for his son?”

Grief didn’t give a person the right to shove a defenseless child. “Maybe it’s less painful for you to put on blinders.”

Dark eyes turned on her. “Maybe you’re the one wearing blinders. Admit it—you want Emma. The only way to have her is to prove the Drummonds unfit.”

His words stung like nettles in her garden. “I’d never make this up, not even to get Emma.”

“You heard Tulley. Ed Drummond is an upstanding citizen.”

“So was your father—the minute he walked out the door.”

Charles didn’t respond.

The buggy closed in around her. She turned away, but found the passing scenery had lost its charm. Her gaze dropped to the spot between Ranger’s ears. “I think I went to the wrong man for help.”

Charles snapped the reins and the buggy lurched forward. He swung his gaze to her, his eyes cold and distant. “Maybe you did.”

Chapter Twelve

A
t breakfast the next morning, Adelaide couldn’t get her mind off the way she and Charles had parted yesterday, couldn’t forget his cold, distant eyes. Her suspicions about Ed Drummond had reopened a past he wanted to forget. A past filled with fear and violence. Her eyes misted. No one had cared enough to investigate, wounding him almost as much as the abuse he’d endured at his father’s hands.

If she ignored Ed’s threat to William’s safety, she’d be no different than the bystanders in Charles’s world.

Beside her, Emma dawdled at the table with a faraway look in her eyes, not eating, aimlessly stirring her oatmeal.

“Emma, you need to eat or you’ll be late to school.”

A rap at the kitchen door made Emma jump. The child was skittish. Why?

Adelaide found Sally on the landing wearing a bright blue bonnet on her head, and a dishtowel-covered basket on one arm.

“Good morning! I’ve brought fresh-baked muffins.”

Adelaide flipped back the towel and inhaled the enticing aroma. “Mmm, apple cinnamon.” She cocked her head. “You drove all the way into town to bring us muffins?”

“I’d have driven to Minneapolis.” Sally chuckled. “Another minute looking at the downcast faces of my men and I’d have pelted them with these muffins!” Sally plopped the basket on the table, then chucked Emma under the chin.

The recipient of Sally’s treats before, Adelaide knew the symptoms. “Bad day in the woods for your men?”

Nodding, Sally slipped into a seat. “All four went rabbit hunting yesterday and came home empty-handed.”

Adelaide chuckled, and then tipped the basket of muffins. “Look what Mrs. Bender brought, Emma. Want one?”

Emma pushed away her bowl, her face glum. “I’m not hungry.”

“She should be sitting in my kitchen,” Sally said. “She’d fit right in.”

“You usually eat every bite. Are you sick?” Adelaide laid a hand on Emma’s forehead, relieved to find it cool.

The child hung her head, looking more like a rag doll than her usual perky self. “No.”

Adelaide slid into the chair beside her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Sally tilted Emma’s head up with her fingertips. “I bet she doesn’t have her homework done. Or maybe she hates recess. Oh, I know, she wants to stay home and clean. That’s it. She wants to scrub the floors, all the windows, even the steps out back.”

The slightest smile tugged at Emma’s lips. “No.”

“Well…maybe she’s upset she didn’t catch a rabbit.” Sally touched Emma’s hand. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

A glimmer sparked in her eyes. “I wouldn’t hurt a bunny.”

“Ah, you city girls don’t know what you’re missing. Rabbit tastes good, like chicken. If my men ever bag any, I’ll bring you some fried crisp.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “No, thank you.”

Adelaide smoothed Emma’s hair. “Something
is
bothering you, sweetie. Can you tell me about it?”

Sally rose. “Well, I’d better get a move on.” She flashed Adelaide a look of concern, then slipped out the back.

Soon as Sally closed the door, Emma dropped the spoon and looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. “William.”

A chill crept down Adelaide’s spine. She drew Emma’s hand into her own. “What about William?”

Tears spilled over her lashes and rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

Adelaide let go of Emma’s hand and began rubbing her back. “You’re worried about William?”

Emma nodded, her face contorted in misery. “Uh-huh.”

“Tell me, honey, why?” Adelaide continued massaging Emma’s back, and waited, every muscle in her body as tense as the small ones under her fingers.

Emma’s mouth tightened. She picked up her spoon and began shoveling the oatmeal into her mouth, avoiding the question.

Adelaide laid a hand on Emma’s arm to still her frantic eating. “When life gets me down, instead of worrying, I’ve learned to count my blessings. Before I know it, I feel better.”

Taking Emma’s smaller hands in her own, Adelaide showed her how to tick off each blessing on her fingers. But even after enumerating Emma’s new hat, Adelaide’s cookies and a new best friend, the little girl still looked forlorn.

Emma carried the same fears ticking away in Adelaide’s gut. The time had come to take action, not tomorrow, not next week. Today.

An hour later, waiting for Laura, Adelaide paced the shop.

The bell jingled over the shop door. “Morning, Adelaide!” Laura shrugged off her shawl and hung it on a peg.

“Good morning. I hate to leave you alone on your first day back, but I have an errand that needs doing. Is it all right if I’m gone all morning?”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. Are you going to the ladies’ Bible study?”

“Ah…no.” Adelaide couldn’t lie. “I’ll explain later.” She gave her friend a quick hug. “Mrs. Brewster is to pick up her alterations today.” Adelaide pulled on her gloves, talking fast. “I’ll miss a riding lesson with Mr. Graves this morning.” Charles might not show up after the way they parted yesterday. “Tell him I’m sorry.”

“Are you over your fear of horses?”

“I’m working at it.”

“Good for you!” Laura tittered. “Riding lessons are a perfect way to bring you two together. Don’t worry about Mr. Graves.”

“See you around noon,” Adelaide said and left the shop.

Charles wouldn’t approve of her plan, but he couldn’t see Ed as a threat to the children. Hopefully, with Ed working in the fields, she could talk to Frances alone.

To get in and out of before Ed came in for the noon meal, she had to hurry. She lengthened her stride, her skirts swirling around her feet. As she neared the café, she passed Mrs. Whitehall tacking up a list of the daily specials.

Mrs. Whitehall’s apron was dusted with flour. “Morning, Adelaide.”

“Good morning, Geraldine.”

“I want to thank you for what you’re doing for Fannie. She’s practicing her walk, even trying to stifle that giggle of hers.”

Reining in her impatience, Adelaide slowed her pace. “Fannie’s a lovely girl.”

Mrs. Whitehall rosy face broke into a smile. “If you can get away for lunch, I’ve made apple fritters. The bill’s on me. My way of saying thanks.”

Adelaide shook her head. “Not today.”

At her abrupt reply, Geraldine shot her a probing look.

Adelaide forced a smile. “I’m sorry. Wish I could.”

“Well, another time, then,” Mrs. Whitehall said, her tone friendly, her suspicion forgotten.

Adelaide promised, and then hurried off. At the thought of driving a buggy alone, a band of nerves tightened around her throat and her touchy stomach somersaulted.

Now, don’t go getting jumpy, Adelaide Crum.

In her mind’s eye, she pictured Emma and William’s innocent young faces. For them, she’d do anything. In the past, she’d been adept at keeping the peace. Since the orphans arrived in town, she’d learned if she wanted to change things, she had to take a stand. Not that she liked looking for trouble, but to protect the children she must.

Ducking into the office of the livery, she found a young man straddling a bench, working something smelly into the contraption the horses wore between their teeth and over their ears. “Good morning.” She’d tried to sound confident, but her voice quavered.

“Ma’am.” He got to his feet, dropping the equipment and tipped the bill of his cap. Never in her life had Adelaide seen a face with so many freckles.

“I’m, ah, in need of a…conveyance, for the morning.”

The young man grinned, displaying a missing tooth. “Well, you’re in the right place, ma’am. What do ya need?” He motioned to a hand-chalked sign of the rates hanging on the wall.

She read a list of options. “A buggy will suffice, thank you.” Adelaide dug in her purse and paid in advance. They walked into the stable, and the young man left to get the horse.

That had been simple. Now if she could only remember what she knew about driving. She had vivid memories of riding out to the Tulley farm. But most of those memories had nothing to do with driving a buggy.