Love Blooms in Winter (15 page)

“How much did they get?”

This was one of her friend’s really bad days, and Mae felt sorry for the woman.

“There were no bank robbers, Pauline. The train derailed this morning. Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt, but the track is torn up. It’s going to take a while to fix it.” Mae gently removed a bottle of hot sauce from the woman’s hands and smiled.

“Well, I don’t mean to be hateful, but I don’t have a good thing to say about the railroad. They shouldn’t have brought that black monstrosity through here. Been nothing but a nuisance. It upsets my dogs every time it pulls into the station.” Pauline turned to focus on Tom. “Sorry, sonny, but that’s the pure truth. You got something to do with the railroad, don’t you?”

“A little, ma’am. Not enough to worry you.”

“It’s certainly brought Dwadlo a fair amount of prosperity,” Mae pointed out as she gently took a package of hairpins from Pauline’s grasp. Dwadlo was the end of the line, but the station brought needed supplies to outlying areas. Otherwise, the town would be nothing but a tiny spot in the road.

“They treated me badly.” Pauline sniffed.

Tom cracked a peanut. “I’m sorry. Was it my line? Chicago and North Western?”

“Can’t recall.” She waved a dismissive hand. “How do I know? I only know that I don’t know any railroad person except you, sonny, but I’m obliged to like my kin.” She paused. “Or does the Good Book say to love your neighbor more than your kin? Sometimes that’s a might easier to do.”

Mae patted her shoulder and moved her to the counter. “Let’s see, now. We have—”

“I’m not through yet.”

Mae pointed her to larger products, such as canned tomatoes and beans. She turned her head when she saw a tin of baking soda go in Pauline’s purse.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Curtis isn’t going to leave town as soon as he wanted. The railroad has assigned him to help lay the new track.”

“That right?”

Mae checked her necklace timepiece. “Mr. Curtis, since there’s been a delay in your departure, would you join us in church tomorrow morning?”

“You’d better warn him to wear britches that won’t catch fire,” Pauline muttered.

The things Pauline could come up with. Their pastor did get a little thunderous, but that was the spirit of God—or so he claimed. Mae never saw the need to shout and become red-faced when she spoke of God’s love and grace, but she wasn’t called to the pulpit. She smiled. “Will you join us, Tom?” She checked her timepiece again. It was growing late, and she was plain worn-out.

After taking another sip of his root beer, Tom set the bottle down. “I haven’t been to church in years.”

“Then it’s high time you went. Isn’t that right, Pauline?”

She nodded. “Overdue, sonny. I’ll dress up real nice for my kin.” She picked up a woman’s housecoat. It was a very fancy bit of finery that had come all the way from New York, but the robe’s cost scared off even the most affluent in town. Today it caught Pauline’s attention. She swooped up the silly extravagance. “How much is this?”

“Oh, Pauline, it’s quite outrageous, and you can’t wear it to church.”

“How much?”

“Nineteen dollars.”

“Whoooee.”

“Yes, very expensive.” Mae gently took it out of her hands and put it back on display, but Pauline retrieved the robe and stuffed it in her purse. “Put it on my bill.”

Mae mentally groaned. Her bill was past the point of ludicrous, and Dale certainly couldn’t afford this luxury. She would let Pauline take it home, and then she’d bring it back to the store Monday morning.

Pushing away from the counter, Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a money clip. Peeling off two bills, he handed them to Mae.

She started to refuse the offer, but Pauline had so few pretty things, and after all he was her kin. “Thank you,” she murmured. “That’s most generous of you.”

“Consider it a gift from the railroad. Speaking of which, do you have any strong young men in town who need work?”

Mae wondered if he was evading the church question and decided she’d let it rest for now. “Why?”

“Their help would come in handy in laying the new track.”

She put the bills in the money box. “Is that what you do for the railroad? Oversee rail repair?”

“Not ordinarily. I’m in management now, but I’ve laid a few thousand miles of track over the years. I’ve worked about every job the railroad offers.”

“Really.”

Lifting his bottle of root beer to his lips, he grinned and winked before he took a long drink.

She watched the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed and felt a blush creep up her neck. She wasn’t accustomed to his playful side. “I’m sure the men in town will welcome the work, and I’m also certain the railroad will pay a handsome wage as you are in a bit of a bind.”

He lowered the bottle, studying her. “Why, you little conniver.”

She held up a hand and smiled. “Purely business, Mr. Curtis.”

She squealed when he leaned over and held the dripping cold root beer bottle over the top of her head. Lunging for the container, she playfully wrestled for the weapon. His long arm easily kept the bottle from her reach. Feminine squeals and male laughter was filling the room when the front door opened and Jake stepped inside.

Mae caught the newcomer’s entrance from the corner of her eye and immediately snapped to attention. Straightening her bodice, she said, “Hello, Jake.”

Looming in the doorway, the lawyer’s eyes appraised the situation. “What do we have here?”

What indeed? How could she have acted like a hooligan, losing complete control of her decorum? What would her father have said had he been alive to witness his daughter tussling with a man—and in public, no less?

She summoned a shaky smile. “Well…you know about the derailment. Tom and I were…um…discussing the incident.”

Stepping inside the store, Jake closed the door. “Indeed.”

She tried to stay calm while his eyes assessed her hair, which now hung loose down her back in curls. She must have lost the pins in the friendly scuffle.

“And by the looks of you, you were also a victim?”

Tom set the bottle on the counter. “There’s no need for sarcasm, Mallory. I’m sure this does look a little…inappropriate. I apologize for my behavior. I dripped water over her head and she reacted.”

Jake’s gaze focused on Mae and he lifted one brow. “Pardon me?”

Pauline giggled. “Have you tried the root beer yet, Jake? It’s real fine.”

Mae closed her eyes with relief when the old woman peered around a shelf. With Pauline present Jake couldn’t possibly find the situation upsetting—merely curious. Yet she still felt the heat rising to her cheeks, and when Tom turned to face her she wondered if he could see it.

“Please accept my deepest apologies, Miss Wilkey. I am under a bit of a strain today and forgot my manners.” He gave a courteous but pretentious bow.

Patting her flyaway hair, she nodded briefly. “Apology accepted, Mr. Curtis. It has been a most trying day for all concerned. I do hope to see you at services in the morning.”

“Well, what is life without hope?” He flashed her another smile.

Mae held her breath when he tipped his hat briefly to Jake, gave her another wink, and then left the store. Why did she feel guilty when she’d done nothing wrong?

When the door closed behind him, Tom’s grin faded.
You’re stuck here now, Curtis. You’d best be saving your winks for available women
.

The lazy smile returned when he stepped off the weathered porch. Still, it had felt good to see the look on that stuffed shirt’s face. Mae was a wonderful woman, full of life, and he enjoyed her company. She deserved someone better than Jake Mallory. Tom had to fight to harness his thoughts. Mae was close to being spoken for, and that was that. Bad-mouthing another man never gave him pleasure, but what could she possibly see in someone who considered himself to be the biggest toad in the puddle?

A wagon pulled up to the hitching post. A woman dressed in men’s clothing set the brake and got out. Though he’d never met her, Tom realized she must be Lil, the woman Fisk had told him about. Before she could climb down from the wagon, an older man wearing suspenders and hip boots walked up. Tom had spotted him around the store this week. “Curtis!”

“Sir?”

The farmer’s eyes sized him up, and then he turned to spit a stream of tobacco. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he accused, “Name’s George Stewart. I’m a might riled, son. You killed my bull.”

“Pardon?”

“You work for the railroad?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That train killed my bull. One of my best. So if you work for ’em, then you owe me fifty dollars.”

“Fifty?” Tom shook his head. “I regret that your bull was killed in the accident, Mr. Stewart, but the railroad pays seven dollars a head.”

“Seven dollars!”

“I might get them up to ten, but not a cent more.”

“That there was prize stock, Curtis.”

He noticed the woman had climbed down from the wagon and approached. He stayed focused on the farmer. “I understand, sir, but that’s the offer. Seven—possibly ten dollars.” Grumbling under his breath, the farmer glanced at the rough-edged woman.

Shrugging, she said. “What are you going to do with a dead bull, George?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’d settle for ten dollars for one of your prize sows, Lil?”

“If she were dead and I didn’t need the meat, I would.”

Scowling, George apparently worried the offer over in his mind. “Okay, Curtis. Ten dollars and you move the carcass.”

“When am I supposed to have time to do that—”

The woman stepped in front of him and offered a handshake. “I’m Lil Jenkins. If I can have the meat from that bull to do with what I want, I’ll clear it away for you.”

“By yourself?”

“No. I got a friend who will pitch in.”

“Deal.” Tom had bigger headaches than a dead bull.

“Consider it done.”

N
ighttime shadows had deepened by the time Mae hung the new sign in the store window before retiring for the day.

Men with strong backs and hearty souls needed to repair railroad track. $1 per day. Apply inside.

She was pleased Pauline had finally agreed to go home, though it had taken almost an hour to convince her to do so, and Jake had left without much of a fuss about what had happened between her and Tom. He had never been playful with her the way Tom was that evening, and it saddened her. But the day’s events saddened her too.

Mae couldn’t think of the last time Dwadlo experienced an accident. She intended to extinguish the lights and go straight to bed when she heard footsteps approaching. She turned to see the hog farmer through the window.

“I need your help, Mae,” Lil said as soon as she had opened the door and stepped inside.

The postmistress stared at her friend’s clothing. “Goodness, Lil, what happened to you? Where did all that blood come from? Are you hurt—”

“No, I’m fine, but I have a mess on my hands. I have to move a dead bull.”

Mae was sure she’d heard it all now. The vivacious, spunky Lil was known to tackle anything, but moving a dead bull at this late hour? And though she hadn’t asked, Mae was certain she was part of her friend’s crazy plan. “How do you propose that we—meaning you and me, I’m guessing—move a dead bull?”