Calico Brides Page 17

  “Mrs. Fairfield is quite accomplished. We are blessed.”

  “Preacher’s wife.” Owen made it sound like a cursed profession as he walked down the aisle to the piano. “My Ruby’s never played a church song in her life. She knows all the popular songs though. She only needs to hear it once and she can play it right away.” He plunked on a single key. The note rang in crystal clarity in the almost-empty room, sounding an alarm as clearly as a bell steeple.

  Owen glanced at the door to the left of the lectern and headed in that direction. Did the man intend to take a tour of the church?

  “If you’re looking for the preacher, he’s at the fair. I spotted him on the square while I was coming here,” Ned said.

  “He’s not the one I’m after. I’m looking for one of the mares from my stable.”

  Of all the euphemisms for the world’s oldest profession, “stable” was one of the worst, implying that women were animals and not men’s helpmates nor created in the image of God.

  Ned’s face must have reflected his distaste, because Owen laughed. “I know you don’t take advantage of my girls, but I treat ’em good. One of them got her dander up, that’s all. I’m going to talk her back, gentle-like.” Cold, calculating blue eyes raked Ned from head to toe. “Maybe you seen her. A pretty little thing, bouncing brown curls and bright blue eyes, stands about yea tall?”

  Even though Michal had looked anything but bright and bouncy, the description fit her well enough. What to do? Lie outright? Claim sanctuary?

  The side door that led to the parsonage swung open, and Pastor Fairfield came in. “Mr. Owen, I saw you come in and wondered if you needed my help.”

  Owen’s eyes narrowed. “The same as last time. I’m looking for one of my girls.”

  Genuine surprise appeared on the pastor’s face. “Any one of them is welcome here, but none has come recently.”

  Ned kept his shoulders down, willing himself not to betray the two women only a few feet away from them.

  “I repeat, the women are welcome to come and go here as they please. You have no business here. I must ask you to leave.” In spite of the pastor’s mild expression, his presence provided as solid a barrier to Owen’s intrusion as any of the soldiers at the fair.

  Owen took a step back. “I can’t prove it. Not today.” He planted his feet on the polished wooden floor. Pointing his finger the way a marksman would look down the scope of his rifle, first he singled out the pastor, then Ned. “Your preaching is interfering with a legitimate business. It can’t continue. No sir. I won’t stand for it.”

  “You’re not fighting us, Mr. Owen. You’re fighting God,” Pastor Fairfield said.

  Ned moved to the pastor’s side, shoulder to shoulder at the forefront of the battle lines. He breathed in the pastor’s bravery. “You must realize you can’t win this battle. Go out the way you came in.”

  Owen shifted his gaze to Ned. “Your God may reign supreme here, but there’s other times and places. You can’t keep an eye on your store every minute of every day.”

  With that final volley, Owen turned on his heels and marched out the door, sunshine once again flooding the church as his back disappeared from view.

  The pastor looked outside. “He’s gone.” Shutting the door, he walked slowly down the center aisle. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  Birdie listened to the confrontation between the men. Ruth had returned to warn them of Owen’s approach. Once the saloon owner left, Birdie straightened from the frozen posture she had taken at the keyhole. “He’s left.”

  “Praise the Lord,” Ruth murmured. Releasing the arm that she had around Michal’s shoulders, she gestured for Birdie to come over. “You stay here while I catch my father up on what’s happening.”

  The two women traded places, and Ruth left. Birdie flashed back to the day she had arrived at the church, as scared as Michal was right now. She put an arm around the girl’s shoulders and pulled her close. “You’ll be all right.” Later she would tell Michal how she had escaped, how faithful God was in providing for every need she had, how God had made her over anew. Right now Michal only wanted to avoid returning to the Betwixt ’n’ Between before morning. “The Fairfields are good folks. You’ll be safe as long as you’re here.”

  Ned was guarding them. Birdie treasured that thought close to her heart. Pastor Fairfield had recently preached about the honor roll of Bible heroes. She would add Ned to the list—an ordinary man who did extraordinary things because they were the right things to do.

  Ruth slipped into the room. “I hate to leave you again, but people are expecting to see me at the fair. If I don’t go back, they might ask uncomfortable questions.”

  “I’ll stay.” Even as the words jumped out of Birdie’s mouth, an unspoken disappointment tugged at her heart, guilt traipsing along behind. When Ned invited her to the fair, she had dared hope for something…more.

  What kind of Christian was she? God had given her the very thing she longed for, the opportunity to help Michal escape before the worst happened, and here she was, thinking about her own hopeless desires.

  Ruth looked at her with something approaching compassion in her eyes. “Then go out and talk with Mr. Finnegan before I leave. He’s pacing like the caged bear I saw in Lincoln.” She bent over and whispered in Birdie’s ear. “God will bless your faithfulness.”

  Birdie delayed a moment, checking the folds of her dress before going into the church. “Ned…Mr. Finnegan, I mean.” The heat she had tamped down swept through her body.

  “I like it when you call me Ned.” An understanding smile tugged at his mouth. “You need to stay here with Miss Clanahan.” Shifting his feet, he hesitated. “God is using you, Miss—”

  “If I call you Ned, you should call me Birdie.” Would he think she was too forward?

  “Miss Birdie.” His face broke into a wide smile. “Thank you for allowing me the privilege of using your given name.” He leaned forward an inch before pulling back. “God has blessed your desire to help your friends. He has important things for you to do, much more important than anything I might want. With your permission, I will take you to dinner at the diner one night next week.”

  The disappointment in Birdie’s heart melted away at his kind words. “I would like that. Thank you for understanding.”

  “I will stay as long as necessary, in case Owen returns.”

  At the door, Ned turned around as if to fill his eyes with her image before he waved a final good-bye. Nodding, Birdie withdrew into the bedroom.

  The promised dinner didn’t happen for almost an entire week, but Birdie didn’t mind. Michal spent a couple of days in the back room while Birdie worked day and night finishing her dress. Last night, after Michal had donned a hooded cape, Ruth had walked with her to Miss Kate’s boardinghouse, as bold as peacocks. The sheriff kept a close eye on them, making sure no one bothered them, and the move happened without incident.

  Half an hour remained until Ned would arrive. Michal turned one direction and another, studying her reflection in the mirror. “Oh Birdie, I’ve never had anything so fine.”

  “All I did was show on the outside the beautiful person you are inside—a beautiful, innocent girl forced to make her living the only way she could.” Birdie circled Michal, studying her work critically. Did she need to add another button at the back neckline? No, she decided. Finishing the dress had taken all the money she’d saved from selling eggs to Ned, and she hadn’t even started on the long johns. Every day she thanked God for providing a way for her dreams to come true.

  “I’ll start on the long johns tonight.” Michal had proven as skilled with needle and thread as her voice was beautiful. At just the right time, God had given Birdie more work than she could do by herself.

  “Thank you.” Birdie spared a look at the mirror, wishing God had given her a different color hair. She had to cover it to walk anywhere without notice.

  “Yoo-hoo, Miss Landry.” One of Miss Kate’s tenants called up the s
tairs. “Your young man is here.”

  “You’d better go.” Michal threaded her needle and knotted the end. “I hope someone as nice as Mr. Finnegan courts me someday.”

  Courting? Something had given Michal the wrong impression, but Birdie wouldn’t argue the point. “You will. God has just the right young man out there.” Birdie spoke with an assurance she didn’t feel, but for this young, unsullied girl, marriage was still a possibility. She tied a blue sunbonnet that matched the shade of flowers on her dress under her chin.

  Ned waited at the bottom of the stairs. When the squeak of the top step announced her presence, he glanced up, joy shining in his eyes. “Birdie.”

  Birdie’s tongue tangled. He had asked her to call him Ned, but that felt too informal. Her stuttering tongue stumbled, and what came out was “Mister…Ne–Ninnegan.” She covered her mouth, embarrassed at the mistake.

  He laughed. “Just Ned. Please.” He placed his foot on the bottom stair and reached for her. “Aunt Kate has promised us a perfectly cooked chicken dinner.”

  “And no one cooks chicken like Miss Kate.” Birdie accepted his arm as he led her out the door, where the same carriage Mr. Keller had rented on the day of the fair waited for them.

  “You rented the brougham?” Maybe he was courting her. Fear sent cold tentacles down Birdie’s arms, and she was grateful for the long sleeves in spite of the warm summer twilight.

  “Of course.” Ned helped her onto the seat as if he rented a carriage every day. “I felt bad for making you face down your former place of employment last Saturday.” He climbed beside her, and they started forward.

  “That’s all right. If God hadn’t brought us there at that time, who knows what would have happened to Michal?”

  “We’ll have to trust God has no one else for you to rescue this evening.”

  Birdie spotted Haydn Keller walking Gladys home. Gladys’s face beamed total happiness, inviting Ned and Birdie to join the party.

  The brougham took all the space in front of the diner. When Ned handed Birdie down from the seat, she half expected a red carpet to spread out under her feet. Never had she ridden in anything so fine. A couple of curious faces glanced at them then turned away, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Ned led her to a table at the side of the diner, where she could sit with her back to the rest of the room, looking out a window. Miss Kate bustled out of the kitchen, carrying her coffeepot. “Oh good, you’re here. I’ve got some fresh chicken fried up just now, and some of my best shortcake biscuits. Thank you for sending me the extra eggs today, Mr. Finnegan. I used every one of them in making the custard. Dessert’s on me.” She winked and bustled back into the kitchen.

  Eggs? Dessert on the house? Fiddling with the strings of her sunbonnet, Birdie glanced at the chalkboard where Miss Kate had listed the day’s specials. Custard dessert 25 cents— almost the same amount he’d paid her for a dozen eggs only a few hours ago. She folded her bonnet and laid it beside her.

  “Aunt Kate likes to tell everyone what to eat, doesn’t she?” Ned brought the coffee cup to his lips, oblivious to the anger coursing through Birdie’s body.

  “You sold eggs to Miss Kate. My eggs.”

  Ned’s mouth formed a perfect O. “She ran out this morning and asked if I had any left. It’s happened a couple of other times.”

  “How much did you sell the eggs to her for?

  Ned stared at the table instead of meeting her eyes. “Twenty cents a dozen.”

  “The same amount you pay me for eggs.”

  Ned’s smile turned into a grimace, and he nodded his head.

  Birdie wasn’t sure who upset her more—Miss Kate, for buying eggs from Ned when Birdie would gladly have given her whatever she needed, or Ned, for charging the same amount to his customers that he paid her, not making any profit on their business exchange after all.

  Miss Kate reappeared, chicken, mashed potatoes, and carrots steaming from two plates. She placed the first plate in front of Birdie with a flourish. Next she served Ned, but he didn’t look at either one of them, his chin pushing against his chest. “Oh my. Let me pull up a chair.”

  No one disobeyed Miss Kate when she used that tone, and Birdie moved to her right. The cook plunked beside her and took both Birdie’s and Ned’s hands in her own. “You two young ninnies. You’re not going to let any little thing keep you apart, are you?”

  Chapter 7

  Birdie’s feet moved of their own volition, ready to take flight away from the mockery Ned and Miss Kate made of her efforts toward independence. Ned wrapped his intentions in a nicer package than Owen did, that was all. Like all the men she had ever known, he wanted to control her. What he and Aunt Kate didn’t seem to realize was that if she accepted charity, if she depended on someone else, she would never know if she could make her own way. What if she were tossed out on the street again, forced to find work in another place like the Betwixt ’n’ Between—or even worse? “I won’t take charity.”

  The bell over the door jangled, and Miss Kate left to greet the new customer.

  “I have to make my own way. Why can’t anyone understand that?” Birdie glared at the butter melting on her plate. Should she be polite and eat the meal she now had no appetite for? Or could she simply walk out? She started to turn around to ask Miss Kate to wrap up her plate so the food wouldn’t go to waste.

  “Don’t.” Ned’s voice dug barbs into her soul. “You don’t want him to see you.”

  “Well, well, well. Look who’s here, sitting as pretty as you please.”

  Owen. Birdie froze, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Why, oh why, had she agreed to come to the diner with Ned, as if she had the same right as anybody else to have a nice meal in a public place?

  Silence fell across the diner, and a heavy tread crossed the wooden boards.

  “Mr. Owen, why don’t you sit over here?” Miss Kate did her best to divert his attention.

  “Why, that isn’t necessary. I’m sure there’s room for me at Birdie’s table.”

  Ned shot to his feet and blocked Owen’s path to Birdie. “Miss Landry and I are enjoying a quiet meal. I suggest you do the same.”

  Birdie’s nose wrinkled at the odor of stale sweat, whiskey, and cigar smoke that followed Owen like a miasma, and she choked as acid rose in her throat. She pressed the napkin to her mouth and willed herself not to turn around, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  Owen stood a little higher on his toes and peered at Birdie over Ned’s shoulder. “I just want a conversation, real friendly-like, with the lady.”

  “She’s with me.” Ned’s voice deepened until Birdie could hardly recognize it.

  Neither man moved. Miss Kate went from table to table, refilling water glasses and topping off coffee cups. She spoke quietly to the customers, and slowly the chatter of conversation resumed. She squeezed behind the two men and whispered in Birdie’s ear, “Eat. Don’t let him rattle you.”

  Birdie didn’t know how she could chew, let alone swallow the bite, but she knew Miss Kate was right. She dipped her spoon into fluffy mashed potatoes smothered in creamy gravy that would slide down her throat without effort.

  Miss Kate stood by the table until Birdie took a few bites. Then, nodding approvingly, she faced the two men. “Mr. Owen, if you have no intention of eating here tonight, I must ask you to leave.” For someone without a grouchy bone in her body, her voice bordered on angry.

  With a single swift move, Owen ducked between Ned’s slender frame and Miss Kate’s more ample figure and came face-to-face with Birdie. “You can’t hide from me forever, girl. I know you had something to do with Michal’s disappearance, and you’re gonna tell me where she is.” Satisfied with his final volley, he swung in a circle and marched out the door.

  The need for pretense gone, Birdie dropped her fork on her plate. She grabbed for the water glass to ease the dryness in her throat. A few customers sent surreptitious glances her way, but most kept their eyes on their plates or on
each other.

  Ned, her champion, sat, and the iron that had armed him gradually left. He brought a chicken leg to his mouth and crunched on the crispy coating. “I know you want to leave, and I don’t blame you. But you should wait until that man goes back to whatever hole he slithered out of. And please, don’t go anywhere alone for the next few days. He’s angry and frustrated because you’re winning skirmishes you and the Almighty have started. He wants to strike back.”

  As much as Birdie wanted to make her own way, she recognized the difference between self-reliance and foolishness. Nodding her agreement, she dug her knife and fork into the chicken thigh. The flavorful dark meat went agreeably down her throat, and the sweet custard pie made from the extra eggs slid down without effort. Ned ate more than she did, chasing the crumbs around his plate. Neither one of them spoke beyond “Pass the salt, please.”

  Birdie took advantage of the quiet to formulate a plan. While Ned cleaned his plate, she folded her napkin in her lap and made herself look at him. “I know you want to help. But I have to make my own way. If you respect me at all, I beg you, let me do business in the way I see fit.”

  Ned’s mouth opened and shut before he shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “I’ll give you eighteen cents a dozen, if that will make you happy.”

  “Five cents for four eggs, or a penny an egg for less than that.” She pinned him with her eyes.

  Squirming at first, again he nodded his head.

  Birdie had kept an account of every egg she’d sold to Ned, and the number stuck in her head. She knew exactly how much she needed to reimburse him. She had spent most of the money already, on the fabrics and whatnots to make another dress for Michal, as well as fabric for another dress for Shannon, another woman ready to leave Owen’s employ. How could she pay Ned back?

  As Birdie tied her sunbonnet under her chin, she wondered at the futile gesture. Owen had recognized her on the street in spite of the hat. In any case, she couldn’t have kept it on after she took her seat.