Dorothy Clark (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

I
t was too much. It was simply too much. She felt as if she were breaking into little pieces. Sadie gripped the broom handle and attacked the corners of the step, swept them clean and turned her fury on the next one. Dust flew.

She closed her eyes and wiped her face, wincing at the feel of grit clinging to the tear tracks on her cheeks. No doubt she looked a sight. Poppa and Nanna would notice. She propped the broom against the wall, took the hem of her long apron in her hands and scrubbed at her face. What could she do? How could she convince Cole what he feared was untrue? Surely it was untrue!

A sob broke from her throat. She twisted around and collapsed onto a step, buried her face in the apron and fought to control her crying. If Poppa or Nanna heard...

Tears slipped from beneath her lashes and wet the apron pressed against her eyes. Cole was Payne’s brother, but she knew now he was not like him. She had looked into Payne’s eyes. She had seen the cruelty glittering there, and there was nothing of cruelty in Cole. His eyes were... were— Oh, what if he went away...?

“What’s wrong, sweeting?”

Sweeting?

She lifted her head and lowered the apron. Her grandmother stood on the landing, her eyes full of love and concern. Sadie gulped back a sob and shook her head, but she couldn’t stop her mouth from quivering.

“Oh, Sadie, sweeting...”

Her grandmother climbed to the step and sat beside her, pulled her into her arms and tugged her head down against her soft shoulder.

The sobs broke free at her nanna’s touch. Tears streamed from her eyes. Her grandmother’s small hands patted her back and smoothed her hair as she struggled to get control. Bittersweet pain squeezed her throat.

“Shh, Sadie. It will be better. I promise it will be better. Tell me what’s hurting your heart, sweeting. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

She shouldn’t. She didn’t want to worry her grandmother, but the temptation to have the comfort and wisdom she’d known all her life was too great to resist. “I—I think C-Cole’s—” she gulped back a sob “—going away.”

“Nonsense.”

“Wh-what?” She lifted her head and blinked away the watery blur, looked into her grandmother’s clear, focused gaze.

“I said that’s nonsense, Sadie. Wherever did you get such an idea? Cole isn’t going anywhere.”

She sounded so
certain.
“Cole told me, Nanna. He said he was...‘walking away.’”

“Well, he won’t.”

She stared at her grandmother. She seemed so positive. Did she understand? She looked as if she was having a good day, but... “Why do you say that, Nanna?”

“Because Cole is in love with you. And love is stronger than any spat the two of you might have had.” Her grandmother smiled, reached over and patted her hand.

Shock froze her tongue. She shook her head, drew a breath and blew it out again. “H-how do you know that?”

“Because of the way he looks at you, dear—when he thinks Poppa and I aren’t watching, of course.” Her grandmother laughed softly and wiped her cheeks. “And, if I may say so, I think these tears mean you are beginning to return Cole’s affections. Now why don’t you go to your room and put a cold cloth on your red, puffy eyes? If you’ve had a spat, you’ll want to look your prettiest when Cole comes tonight.”

If
he came tonight. She shoved the thought away and gave her grandmother a fierce hug. “I love you, Nanna.”

“I love you, too, sweeting. Now run along and do as I say. I’ll finish the stairs.”

She nodded and headed to her room, the swish of the broom accompanying her steps and the heavy, aching beat of her heart. Cole would come, but not to see her. He would help Poppa into his bed and then he would go away. Unless she could think of some way to change his mind.

Because of the way he looks at you, dear.

Her pulse skipped. She’d been right about his eyes. But it was too late. No! She wouldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t let it be too late. There had to be something...

And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

The Scripture verse flowed into her heart. She stood frozen in the quiet of her room, feeling the power in the words, knowing that, somehow, it was the answer she sought. She took a breath and closed her eyes.

“Thank You, dear God, for the promise of Your word. I know there is no cruelty or depravity in Cole. Please show me how to convince him of that truth. Please set him free of his fears. Amen.”

She crossed to her washstand, washed her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror, amazed at the change that had been wrought in her. Love had taken the place of fear, and she hadn’t even realized it was happening.

* * *

Cole slipped from the saddle and looped Cloud’s reins over the hitching post. His stomach had knots the size of his fist, but it was the best way. He crossed the wood walk and climbed the stone steps, opened the door onto the coolness of the bank’s interior. No jangling store bells greeted him. That was taking some getting used to.

He closed the door, looked across the room and caught the busy clerk’s eye.

“Good afternoon, Cole. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“No need, Tom. I only want to talk with Ezra, if he’s free.”

“He is. Go on in.”

He nodded his thanks, rapped his knuckles on Ezra’s office door and opened it.

Ezra looked up from the paper on his desk and smiled a welcome. “Come in, Cole. How are the rolling chairs coming along?”

“That’s what I came to talk with you about.”

“I see.” Ezra’s gaze narrowed on his face. He rose and came around his desk, leaned a hip on it and sat, his one leg dangling free. “Is there a problem?”

“Not with making them.” He blew out a breath and scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “I was thinking that it might be a good thing if I went along with you to New York City to explain how the chairs work to these store owners you were talking about. I could answer any questions they might have.”

Ezra studied him for a moment, then nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. We can work that out. Is there anything else?”

“A couple of things.” He took a breath and said the words that drove a knife into his heart. “First, the chairs should be finished in another week, but I’d like to delay the trip until I have a chance to install the clapboard machine I’ve sent for at the sawmill and train men to run it.”

“All right. There’s no hurry about our trip.”

“Good, because I also want time to find a good man to take over managing the sawmill and logging camps for Manning.”

Ezra’s brow rose. “Is there trouble between you and Manning Townsend, Cole?”

“No.” He held his face calm, his voice steady and businesslike. “That’s the second thing. I’m hoping to sell my business to him. But—”

“You’re going to sell your shingle mill?”

He nodded and worked to keep his hands from clenching. “I’m planning on it. I figure if the store owners feel the chairs will sell well, it would be best to buy a shop and make them right there in the city.”

“I see.” Ezra frowned and rubbed his forefinger over his chin. “That makes good business sense.”

The knots in his stomach twisted tighter. “The problem is, I know Manning doesn’t have money enough to buy the shingle mill outright, so I thought, if he’s interested, I would let him pay me as he could.”

“That’s generous of you.”

“He’s a friend. And his business is gaining.”

“Under your management.”

The praise of his skills helped a little. At least he wouldn’t leave Pinewood under a cloud. “I’ll find a good, honest man to take over.”

He drew his thoughts away from that pain and focused on his business. “That’s where you come in. I’ve got some money set aside, but I doubt it’s enough to secure a property in the city. So, before I start talking to Manning, I need to know if the bank will give me a note for what I’ll need—against the sale of my business. Should that fail, I’ll stand good for it.”

Ezra rose and came to stand in front of him. “If that’s what you want to do, Cole, there’s no need to involve the bank. I will personally lend you whatever you need. I told you I’d back you in getting this rolling chair business started for a small percentage of the first five years’ profits, and this will be part of the deal.”

He should have felt relief instead of a crushing disappointment. “That’s it then.” He dredged up a smile and shook Ezra’s hand. “I’ll talk to Manning as soon as the clapboard machine comes and his profits increase. Meanwhile, I’ll get those chairs finished, and I’ll start looking for a man to take over as manager of the Townsend businesses.”

“I deal with a lot of business men from the nearby towns, Cole. If I hear of anyone with managing skills looking for work, I’ll let you know.”

“I’d appreciate it, Ezra. Thank you.”
Liar.
He pulled his shoulders back and walked from the office.

* * *

The door.
Sadie glanced at her grandfather nodding over the book in his lap. He was too tired to want to visit or discuss business. Was that Cole’s plan? Is that why he was so late?

“Good evening.”

Her breath caught at the sight of him in the doorway. “Good evening.”

His gaze skimmed over her, then rested on her grandmother.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mrs. Townsend. I was detained by work.”

“No matter. You’re here now.” Her grandmother wove her needle in the backing of her needlepoint, set the frame aside and rose. “I’d best go turn back the bed.” She came and gave her a hug, patted her hand, then headed for the hallway.

“Good night...Sa...die.” Her grandfather pulled the lever on his chair, propelling himself toward the doorway.

“Good night, Poppa.” She bit back her disappointment as he reached Cole’s side.

“Problem...at the...mill...Cole?”

“No.” Cole turned and walked beside her grandfather’s chair as he clicked his way into the hall. “I was working on one of the rolling chairs I’m making, trying to fit one of the gears...” The bedroom door closed on his words.

She gazed at the empty spot where he’d been standing and clenched her hands as tears stung her eyes. He’d paid her no more mind than one of the moths flitting around the candles on the mantel.

She moved over to the settee, checked the stitches on her grandmother’s needlepoint piece. They were as neat as ever they had been. There was no need to rework them tonight. Her heart swelled.
Thank You, Lord, for Nanna’s good day.

Her grandfather’s book lay open on the lamp table. She placed a yarn marker in the pages and closed its cover and snuffed the lamp. The quiet snick of the latch on her grandfather’s bedroom door made her heart skip.

Please, Lord...
She stood in the quiet room, waited. His boot heels clicked against the wood, his footsteps faded away down the hall. The back door opened and closed.

I am protecting you, Sadie—by walking away.

Determination stirred. She clenched her hands and marched to the fireplace to snuff the candles. Cole may have ignored her tonight, but he wouldn’t do so for long. Until God told her how to help him, she would fight with what she knew. Tomorrow she would go to Frieda Hall’s shop and spend some of her savings on a new gown.

Chapter Twenty-Five

O
f all the days for the weather to suddenly turn nasty. Sadie shivered and ducked into Cargrave’s recessed entrance, opened the door and stepped inside. The bell jingled news of her arrival.

“You got here in the nick of time, Miss Sadie. It’s working up to a good storm out there.”

She smiled at the tall, lanky miller standing by the counter. “I hope you’re wrong, Mr. Karcher.”

He shook his head and pointed to the window behind her. “The rain’s starting.”

She turned to look. Her heart sank at the sight of the rain pelting down out of the sky to dance on the hard-packed dirt of Main Street. It would be a mire in no time.

The miller stepped around her to the door, tugged the collar of his shirt up and looked back at her. “There’s not much protection in that bit of a jacket you’re wearing. I hope you have a blanket in your buggy or you’re going to have a cold drive home. Leastways until you turn up Butternut Hill. The storm’s coming out of the west, and, judging by that sky, it’s going to get worse as the day wears on.” He pulled the door open and hurried outside, letting it bang shut behind him.

“He’s right, Sadie.” She spun around to see Callie hurrying her way from the dry-goods section. “Why don’t you come home with me and wait the storm out?”

She glanced down at the flowered chintz spencer she’d worn over her blue cotton gown and frowned. The rain would soak through it in no time. She sighed and shook her head. She wouldn’t be shopping for a new gown today. “I can’t, Callie. With the storm it will take me longer to get home, and I don’t want to leave Poppa and Nanna alone. It’s hard for Gertrude to cook and care for them, too.”

Her heart squeezed. What if Nanna wandered out in the storm? She had to leave. “I’ll get the things I came for and then start home. I never would have come to town had I realized a storm was brewing.” She moved to the notions shelf, picked up spools of magenta and dark-blue needlepoint yarn, fingered a length of lace. Perhaps a collar instead of a new dress. She could make it this afternoon.

“I understand.” Callie’s voice softened with concern. “It must be difficult for you to care for your grandparents, even with help. What will you do when Cole is gone to New York City?”

Her breath froze in her lungs. She drew her hand back from the lace. “I didn’t know he was going to the city.”

“Hmm, he and Ezra discussed it yesterday. Oh, look at this lovely trim.”

As if the green-and-gold braid Callie held mattered. “It’s very nice. What did they decide?”

“It seems Cole thought it would be good if he sold his shingle mill here and bought a shop in New York City so he could make the rolling chairs there where the large stores are. If the proprietors decide to sell them, that is.”

Her stomach churned. She put her hand against it and pressed hard. “Cole is going to sell his shingle mill and move to the city?”

“Yes, Ezra agrees with Cole that it’s a wise thing to do. And it does make sense, don’t you think?” Callie put down the packet of buttons she held and looked over at her.

She nodded and forced words from her constricted throat. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

Callie’s eyes narrowed on her. “Are you feeling well, Sadie? You’re very pale.”

“I’m fine. It’s likely the dim light from the storm.” She glanced at the window, then returned the spools of yarn to their place on the shelf. “The storm is getting worse. I’ll get these another time. I must get home. Come for a visit soon, Callie.”

It took forever to reach the door. She tried to hurry, but her feet moved as if she were dragging herself through thick mud.
Cole was leaving Pinewood.
Rain dribbled down her neck and soaked the shoulders and back of her dress as she made her way to the buggy, loosed Sweetpea’s reins and climbed inside. The gray deluge blew in under the hood and wetted the skirt over her knees as she urged the mare forward.

I am protecting you, Sadie—by walking away.

Did Cole care that much for her, that he was willing to give up the life he’d built over the past four years and leave town because he thought he was a danger to her? Shivering and shaking took her. Tears flowed from her eyes and mingled with the raindrops pelting her face. She had to stop him. Somehow, she had to convince Cole that she needed him. That her happiness and safety were in the strength and security of his love.

* * *

Cole stopped in the recessed entrance, slapped his hat against his thigh, then jammed it back on his head and opened the door. The jangle of the bell was lost in the drumming of the rain on the walkway.

“Beastly weather out there.”

He looked at Allan Cargrave and nodded. “I’ll say.”

The proprietor grinned. “Seems as though a smart man would stay indoors.”

He chuckled in agreement. “It does seem that way.”

“Where’d the storm catch you?”

“On my way back from Olville.” He stomped water from his boots, moved to the table holding baskets of hand tools and picked up a small whetstone.

“You must have passed him, then.”

“Passed who?”

“A fellow by the name of Frank Trent. He stopped in a short while ago. Said he was passing through town and left this letter for me to give you.” The proprietor held out a folded piece of paper.

Frank Trent? The name meant nothing to him. He crossed to the counter, blew on his hands to dry them, then took the letter, broke the wax seal and unfolded it. The light was too dim to read the writing. He raised the paper toward the lamp hanging from a hook overhead.

Mr. Cole Aylward

Sir:

I am writing with information you seek, however, I must tell you I am the bearer of bad news.

It is my sad duty to inform you that a logger answering to the description you set forth for your brother in the letter received by the mayor’s office in Warren, Pennsylvania, is in trouble with the law.

This logger, believed to be your brother, committed a most heinous act upon a young lady of our town last evening and is now fleeing from the authorities and townspeople. He is believed to be in the surrounding hills.

This information is true and useful. Please present my recompense of ten dollars to the mayor’s office in Warren.

Respectfully,

Frank Trent

Cole sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, folded the letter into his palm and looked at Allan Cargrave. “Thank you for holding this for me. I’ll be back for the whetstone.”

He turned his back on the curious light in the proprietor’s eyes and left the store, swiped his saddle clear of rainwater, mounted and rode up Main Street to the parsonage.

The letter crushed as he fisted his hand and knocked at the front door.

This logger, believed to be your brother, has committed a most heinous act upon a young lady...

His stomach heaved and bile rose into his throat. Payne had done it again. He’d attacked another young woman. He stepped back as footsteps sounded inside and the latch lifted.

“Cole! Come in.” Matthew Calvert smiled and pulled the door wide.

“I’d rather talk out here, Reverend. I won’t be staying and there’s no need to mess up your floor.”

Matthew gazed at him a moment, then nodded, stepped out onto the stoop and closed the door. “What can I do for you, Cole?”

“It’s not for me—it’s for Manning. I believe I’ve had news of my brother.” He opened his fist, showed him the crushed letter on his palm. “If the logger this man writes of is Payne, he’s in Warren, Pennsylvania, and he attacked another woman.”

He swallowed hard against the burning sourness in his throat, took a deep breath and continued. “They’re searching the hills for him now. I’ve got to go and help. Would you see to Manning while I’m gone?” The muscle along his jaw jumped. “I can’t say how long that will be. I’m planning to stay until we find him.”

Matthew nodded. “Of course I’ll see to Manning for as long as necessary. There’s no need for you to be concerned over that. But why don’t you come in and warm yourself before you leave? Willa can pack you some food to take along and—”

He shook his head, opened his rain jacket, shoved the letter into his pocket and turned to go. “Thank you, kindly, Reverend, but there’s no time. If I start now, I’ll make Warren by nightfall. I know Payne’s habits in the woods and can track him better than those other men. He won’t get away this time.”

* * *

The weather was horrible, the wind and rain relentless. Would Cole come tonight? Yes, he had to come—he had to take care of Poppa. Sadie tightened her arms about herself and worried the corner of her lip with her teeth. Tonight might be her last chance. What should she say to him?

“Sa...die...”

Should she confess her feelings for him? Would that conv—

“Sa...die!”

“Oh!” She turned from the window, dragging her thoughts from Cole. “I’m sorry, Poppa, what is it?”

“Someone is...at the...door.”

“In this weather?”

She hurried out into the entrance and down the hall to open the door. “Willa!” She stared at her friend, then shifted her gaze to the man behind her. “And Reverend. What—” A gust of wind blew rain across the porch, spattering her face with the cold drops. “I’m sorry, come in. Let me take your wet coats. I’ll hang them in the kitchen.”

She moved to the lamp on the serving table and twisted the knob to raise the wick and give more light. “There, that’s better. Now give me—” She stared at Willa’s face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Sadie. It’s only...there’s been news about Payne Aylward.”

The name was like a blow. She stepped backward, pressed a hand to her throat. “He’s here?”

“No! Oh, no, Sadie, I didn’t mean that. Payne is in Warren, Pennsylvania.” Willa unfastened the button at the neck of her cape and stepped out from under its damp folds as Matthew lifted it from her shoulders. “At least, the man who wrote the letter to Cole
thinks
the logger there is Payne. And Cole has gone to—”

“What letter?”

Matthew moved toward the hallway. “Cole has never stopped looking for Payne. He was riding to nearby towns to question people, but since your grandfather’s seizure, he’s not been free to do that. Instead he’s written letters to the authorities in the towns. This letter is an answer to one of his queries.”

She listened to Matthew’s factual tone and relaxed, felt the fear waning.

“So Cole has gone to Warren to find out if this man is Payne?”
Oh, grant it, Lord, I pray. Let Cole find Payne and learn the truth about the difference in them. Let him come back to me, Lord. Please let him come back to me.

“Yes. He left this afternoon. But he came to me first, to make sure your grandfather would be taken care of while he is gone.”

Yes. That is like him.
“I see. Well, thank you for coming out on this awful night.” She took their coats and led the way into the hall. “Why don’t you go on in to Poppa and Nanna while I hang these coats and fix some hot tea to warm you after your cold ride.”

She went into the kitchen and hung the coats on a peg, added wood to the fire and filled the teakettle. What did it all mean? Would Cole find the answers he sought? Would he come back and stay in Pinewood? Or would he still sell his shingle mill and go to New York City to make chairs?

There were so many questions. But one mattered more than all the others. Did Cole love her? Or were his feelings based on his guilt for what Payne had done?

She sighed and looked out at the rain sheeting off the porch roof. No matter what Cole felt for her, she would tell him the truth. She would convince him that she loved and trusted him and that she no longer feared him. But how?