When the Heart Heals (21 page)

A cool breeze had sprung up by the time Elijah and Rosemary left Pioneer Lake. The morning's thin clouds had coagulated into rolling gray lumps that threatened rain. She shivered and slid closer to Elijah's side for warmth, wishing she'd remembered to bring a shawl.

He clasped her hand. “Would you like to slip my coat over your shoulders?”

“It's not that far. I'll be fine.”

When they turned onto King's Highway, Bodie sat up and draped his paws over the dashboard, eyeing a dilapidated vehicle in front of Rosemary's house.

She cocked her head. “That looks like Mr. Bingham's wagon. I wonder if Cassie's mother has come to visit her.”

“One way to find out.” Once he tied his horse to a post behind the wagon, Elijah reached up and swung her to the ground, holding her waist for an extra moment before retrieving the picnic basket. She glided toward the front porch, feeling happier than she could ever remember.

The door flew open. Cassie stood in the entrance dressed in a traveling cloak and carrying a carpetbag. “Thank goodness you're here. I was afraid I wouldn't get to say good-bye.”

Mrs. Bingham appeared beside her. The threatening sky intensified harsh lines on her face. “Elmer Bingham's dead. The train for St. Louis is due in half an hour, and we'll be on it.”

R
osemary hastened toward Cassie and her mother. “Mrs. Bingham. I'm so sorry to hear of your loss. When did he pass?”

“In the early hours of this morning. I stayed long enough to prepare his body while his manservant built a coffin. Then I came straight here to fetch Cassie.”

“But his funeral—” She took a second look at Cassie's mother. The woman wore a magenta cloak over a royal blue poplin dress. No black.

“His man will bury Mr. Bingham next to his parents in the plot behind the house. There'll be no service.” She took her daughter's arm. “He's getting back what he put into life, Miss Saxon. No more and no less. Please don't involve yourself further.”

The wind gusted, carrying scattered drops of rain. Rosemary felt Elijah's hands settling his coat over her shoulders. His voice rumbled behind her.

“If you leave your husband's horse and wagon in town, she will be involved. It's common knowledge that your daughter is staying in Miss Saxon's house. With your consent, I'll drive you to the station, then deliver the wagon to his farm.”

“As you wish, but hurry. I don't want to miss the train.” Mrs. Bingham propelled Cassie down the path to the waiting conveyance, her cloak billowing in the wind.

After Elijah helped the three women into the wagon, he took the reins and sent the horse trotting toward the depot. When he stopped in front of the station, Rosemary heard the tracks hum with the approach of a train. Within moments, the engine came in sight. Gray smoke trailed over the cars.

Cassie's mother sprang to her feet. “Just in time.”

As soon as Elijah helped her to the ground, she dashed to purchase their tickets. He lifted a trunk from the back of the wagon and deposited it on an empty baggage cart.

Cassie dropped the carpetbag she carried and threw her arms around Rosemary. Tears streaked her cheeks. “I . . . I don't want to leave you. Not like this.” She put her lips close to Rosemary's ear. “It's my fault. I wished him dead,” she whispered. Her shoulders shook with sobs. “The Lord knows I didn't mean it—doesn't he?”

Rosemary took a step away and clasped Cassie's upper arms. “Of course he knows. You're not to blame. Whatever took your mother's husband had nothing to do with you. Remember that.”

Gulping back sobs, the girl nodded.

Mrs. Bingham descended upon them, waving two pasteboard tickets. “Come, Cassie.” She faced Rosemary. “We'll let you know as soon as we have a fixed address. You can have my daughter's trunk sent.”

Raindrops splattered as the two women boarded a passenger car. She should be happy to have her house to herself again, but all she felt was sorrow. Cassie'd been right when she said they were like sisters.

“You'll miss her.” Elijah tucked his hand under her elbow and guided her toward the wagon.

“The house will feel empty.” The bell clanged when the train built up enough steam to leave the station. She stopped to watch until the last car was a tiny speck on the tracks. Shivering, she pulled his coat tight around her, then noticed his wet shirt.

“How thoughtless of me! You're getting soaked. As soon as you leave me at my door, promise you'll stop at home for dry clothing before you return the wagon.”

He flashed his beautiful smile. “It's been a long time since a lady fussed over me. I like it.”

She settled near him on the wagon seat. Truth be told, she liked having someone to fuss over. Not merely someone. Elijah.

Once he'd kept his promise and changed into dry clothes and an oiled canvas greatcoat, Elijah drove Bingham's wagon through the rain toward the sheriff's office. The earlier busyness on the streets had all but ceased. Heavy clouds obscured the setting sun, leaving the front of the stone jailhouse in deep shadow.

Thaddeus Cooper looked up when Elijah entered. “What brings you out on such a miserable evening? Looking for a supper companion?” He dropped the book he'd been reading on top of his desk and tilted his chair against the wall.

“Later, maybe. I need to take Elmer Bingham's horse and wagon to his farm. Hoped you'd follow me out so I can get back to town.”

“Glad to. But why isn't Bingham driving his own wagon?”

“He's dead.”

Thaddeus's chair thudded to the floor. “First I've heard of it.”

Elijah repeated what Mrs. Bingham had told them when
he and Rosemary returned from their picnic. “They took the train to St. Louis a half hour ago. Miss Saxon and I drove them to the station.”

His friend grinned at him. “Miss Saxon, eh? You're a brave soul.” He stood, smoothing the ends of his drooping moustache.

“She's a caring lady and a pretty one.” Elijah shot him a cool glance.

Thaddeus harrumphed. “No doubt. My Amy sets quite a store by her. Myself, I keep out of her way.” He grabbed a broad-brimmed hat and canvas coat from pegs on the wall. “If we're going, we'd best get started.”

The two wagons traveled in tandem through town and along the rutted road leading south. Rain dripped from Elijah's hat brim, chilling his neck with occasional stray drops. Mr. Bingham's horse plodded through puddles with its head down. When they reached the lane that Elijah remembered as belonging to Cassie's stepfather, the animal turned left with no urging on his part.

Thaddeus followed close behind.

Elijah drew back on the reins when the farmhouse came in view. After a moment, a man dressed in muddy clothing stepped from behind the building, carrying a shovel. He pushed his hat off his forehead and stared.

“Doc. What're you doin' with our wagon?” In the dusk, he blended in with his shadowed surroundings.

With a start, Elijah recognized Abraham Grice, the patient he'd recently treated for gout. He must be the manservant Mrs. Bingham mentioned. “I told your mistress I'd return this to you. She and her daughter are on their way to St. Louis, as I'm sure you know.”

“Don't know nothing of the sort. She don't tell me where she's going, and I don't ask—and she ain't my mistress.”

“Well. In any case, here's the wagon. Your horse probably needs to be grained.” Elijah hopped down and held out the reins.

Mr. Grice dropped the shovel and snatched the leather straps so fast they squeaked when they slid through Elijah's gloves. “Who's in that other wagon?”

“Thaddeus Cooper. He's taking me home.”

The older man tugged his hat lower on his forehead and half-turned toward a tilted structure that probably served as a barn. “Be on your way, then. I ain't stopping you.”

Rosemary awakened early Sunday morning, her heart torn between excitement over her new relationship with Elijah and sorrow at Cassie's abrupt departure. She'd have much to tell Faith after church.

Wishing she had something new to wear, she dressed in her gray silk and took extra pains arranging her thick hair into a coiled braid covered by an emerald-colored hairnet. Perhaps Elijah would escort her home. She hoped so.

While she prepared a simple breakfast, Bodie nosed around the house, first upstairs, then down. Rosemary felt sure he was looking for Cassie. By now the girl and her mother would have arrived in St. Louis.

From what she could recall, the two of them had lived with a member of Cassie's father's family after they lost their home—and her father—during the war. Since they were returning with no notice, she prayed his relatives would take them in again. Cassie had been bounced around enough.

She left Bodie with the promise of an afternoon walk and directed her steps toward the square brick church a block away. When she reached the corner of Third Street, Elijah dashed up to her.

“Saw you from the front window.” He tipped a half bow. “May I escort you to services this morning?” His black coat and gray trousers appeared freshly brushed. A tidy black bow tie rested at the point where his collar fastened. Although she couldn't see his hair beneath his hat, she felt sure he'd combed his curls into submission.

“Of course you may.” Her heart gave a little jump at his nearness. She extended the crook of her arm and he clasped her elbow.

They reached the churchyard as the steeple bell tolled its final note. When they hurried inside, Rosemary noticed Faith had left room for her on the pew she shared with her grandfather and Curt.

Rosemary glanced up at Elijah, questioning him with her gaze.

He nodded, and the two of them squeezed into the space. Faith turned to her. “Looks like yesterday afternoon turned out well,” she whispered.

Rosemary smiled, then noticed Faith's eyes bore signs of recent tears. She opened her mouth to ask why, but before she could speak, Clarissa French played the introductory notes to “O Day of Rest and Gladness” and the congregation stood to sing.

She half listened while Reverend French preached a message on forgiveness, her attention focused more on Elijah's presence next to her. His clean, soapy fragrance mingled with the wool of his jacket. How amazing to be sitting side by side during worship.
Thank you, Lord.

Her buoyant spirits dropped back to earth when she noticed Faith touch a handkerchief to her eyes. She darted a concerned glance at her friend. Normally she followed every word of the sermon, but this morning she wished the reverend would finish early. Something drastic must have happened.
Perhaps she'd learned of Cassie's departure, but would that news leave her so upset? Rosemary doubted it.

The moment Reverend French dismissed the congregation, she seized Faith's arm. “What's wrong?”

Faith squeezed her lips together and shook her head. “I'll tell you when we're outside.”

Conversations buzzed among the departing worshipers. Elijah lowered his voice to be heard beneath the general hubbub. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I'd like to have a word with Thaddeus.”

Sheriff Cooper stood nearby, holding Sophia's chubby hand. Amy gazed at the two of them with happiness written over her face. For a moment, Rosemary's heart softened toward the sheriff. No doubt he'd make Amy a fine husband. But still . . . how could she forget how he'd hounded her brother?

“Certainly. I'll wait for you on the lawn,” she said in response to Elijah's request, before hastening to catch up with Faith.

She found her near Curt's buggy. “Can we stroll around the churchyard for a moment? I'd like to know why you're unhappy this morning.” She slipped an arm around her friend.

Faith sniffled. “Yes, let's.” Skirting past groups of chattering parishioners, they followed a brick pathway toward the rear of the building. When they reached the curtained shade of a willow tree growing at the edge of the burial ground, Faith stopped.

“I try to leave my troubles at home, but this morning . . .” She sniffled again. “This morning my monthly courses began. Again.” Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. “I want a child so much. We've been married for seven months! What's wrong with me?”

Rosemary hugged her close. “Nothing's wrong with you.
God has his own timing.” She took a step back, pondering a thought. “Of course, if you drink a little raspberry leaf tea with your breakfast, it couldn't hurt.”

Faith's expression brightened. “Do you have the leaves?”

“As it happens, I do. I'll bring some with me when I come to supper this afternoon.”

“Would you like to ask the doctor to join us?” She raised an eyebrow in a coquettish arch. Her voice teased.

“Not just yet. I want to wait until I'm . . . sure.”

“Of him? Or yourself?”

“Both.”