Better Than Gold Page 3

  Judging from the angle of pallid sunlight creeping through a gap in the curtains, Great-Aunt Deborah would arrive any minute with an afternoon cup of tea for each of them. Despite disliking the brew, he drank it to please her. Sometimes, Lily Reese arrived in time to prepare the tea. She never came into his room with his aunt, but he heard her voice through the door. The pleasure of remembering every word he heard her say occupied him during his waking hours of recovering from the gunshot.

  Even as he thought about her, he heard her light, quick steps crunch up the front walk and click across the porch. He knew they belonged to her. None of his aunt’s friends moved with so much speed and grace. Over the three days the doctor insisted he remain in bed, he learned each caller by her footfalls. He also knew Lily by her rhythmic rap upon the door. But he recalled little of her face, as he had not seen it clearly. He remembered golden hair.

  “Golden hair and a silver laugh.” Ben chuckled at his fanciful words, words much like those in the poetry books that had sometimes made their way into his father’s peddler cart.

  Listening to her speaking with Great-Aunt Deborah, however, he believed his thoughts weren’t too far-fetched. Light and clear, her voice reminded him of sleigh bells. Perhaps she sang. . . .

  “What does the doctor say?” Lily’s voice came through with clarity as she stepped from entryway to kitchen.

  “He’ll be with us another forty years or so.” Great-Aunt Deborah laughed. “But he can’t go to work until the headache and double vision leave him. Which is more than all right by me. I do enjoy his company.”

  “That’s unfortunate. I—I mean about him not being able to start work. Does Mr. Gilchrist. . .” Lily’s voice grew muffled behind the kitchen door.

  Ben closed his eyes. The mention of Mr. Gilchrist’s name intensified the headache. He was supposed to start work in six days. Laid up as he was, he could not prepare his living quarters nor get to know the town. He had also missed church on Sunday. No matter what the doctor said, he would be in a pew on the upcoming Sunday and at the livery the following Monday.

  He would be at the sheriff’s office sooner. The first day he got out of the house, he intended to pay the lawman a call and learn what he had discovered about the shooting.

  “I won’t let him in to see you,” Great-Aunt Deborah had insisted in her cracked yet still firm voice. “He’s come by twice, but Doc and I agree you need rest.”

  Ben wished he could disagree with her and get out of bed anyway. Weeks of working extra hard to pay for his move to Browning City and, before that, the grief over losing his father so suddenly seemed to be taking their toll on him. Not to mention the bullet across his skull and the rock on which he had hit his head when he fell. He had needed the rest.

  With the rattle of the approaching tea service, he determined to remain out of bed all day tomorrow and be out of the house the day after that. If nothing else, he wanted to be well enough for his aunt to serve him the strong, dark coffee he smelled when Lily made it, instead of that bland brew from leaves.

  He smelled coffee at that moment.

  Do you prefer it, too, Miss Reese? He smiled at the notion and continued to smile as Great-Aunt Deborah entered the room with a teapot, cups, and slices of cake on a tray.

  “It’ll spoil your supper, but Lily insisted.” She grinned at him. “Lily likes to feed people.”

  “A fine thing in a body.” Ben rose and took the tray from his aunt. “Does she ever eat anything herself?”

  “Yes, she does. She’s been eating in the kitchen while I join you here.” Great-Aunt Deborah lowered herself onto a straight-backed chair. “She’ll join us when you’re well enough to come to the table. But I think this respite from all she does for me is good. With her work at the telegraph office and caring for me, I think she doesn’t have enough time to be as sociable as a girl her age should be.”

  Ben was still a bit bewildered about Lily’s role in his aunt’s household.

  “What all does she do for you?”

  “All those things these old joints of mine won’t let me do anymore.” Great-Aunt Deborah chuckled. “Which means just about everything but read. She cooks and cleans and does the shopping in exchange for her room and board.”

  Ben straightened, blinking against a bit of dizziness. “Then I should get out of here as soon as possible so she can have her room back. I have displaced your boarder, and it must be costing her something to stay—”

  “Don’t fret about that, lad.” Great-Aunt Deborah shook her head. “She isn’t suffering. And where would you go? The hotel?”

  “The livery has a room, I believe.”

  “I understand it isn’t yet fit for anybody to live there. Now eat some cake, or Lily will be disappointed.”

  “I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.” Ben took a slice of cake, though his conscience dampened his appetite.

  He didn’t like the idea of taking from Lily. Yet he enjoyed Great-Aunt Deborah so much, he didn’t want to leave if she didn’t insist. Despite her assurances, however, he decided that he had better get well immediately and set the quarters at the livery to rights so he could move in and give Lily back her room.

  He could start this evening.

  “I’m well enough to sit to dinner at the table now,” he said, “if my staying in bed means she’s been eating alone.”

  “Uh-uh.” Great-Aunt Deborah leaned forward and poked him with the tip of her cane. “No getting up until Doc says it’s all right.”

  Ben grimaced.

  “None of that. You want to start work next week, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. But I’ll be as weak as a baby if I don’t get moving around soon.”

  “Eat some more of this cake. Lily made it for a party we didn’t have because of the weather.” Great-Aunt Deborah slid another slice of cake onto his plate and set down her cane to pour tea.

  He choked down the applesauce cake, which he knew should taste good, and the tea. All the while, he smelled coffee, and his mouth watered.

  “Can I have coffee tomorrow, ma’am?” He felt like a child begging for a treat.

  “May you.” Her eyes twinkled.

  He started to respond but stopped, his eyes widening. “You always did that to me, didn’t you? Corrected me from saying can to may.”

  “I did.” Her face softened like crumpled tissue paper. “You were such a sweet but mischievous child that your mother never knew whether to hug you or punish you when you were naughty.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, Great-Aunt Deborah blinking away tears, Ben seeking memories.

  “I was already six years old when she died, but I don’t remember nearly enough of her.” He shook his head, winced from a stab of pain, and sighed. “I never found so much as a picture.”

  “She was pretty. She looked like her grandmother—my sister—and you.”

  That made Ben laugh. “I hope I’m not pretty.”

  She laughed, too. “No, lad, you’re handsome, and you probably know it. Why is it you aren’t married yet?”

  “No home for a wife yet.”

  “Mr. Twining and I didn’t have one, either. We started our life together in a wagon.”

  “I can’t wish that on a wife. Not after spending the past twenty years in one.”

  He wanted to ask her if she knew why his father had taken to the road for good after Momma died but kept it to himself. He wanted to talk of the happy times he couldn’t remember of his childhood when he had family around him.

  “You always were good with animals.” Great-Aunt Deborah spoke as though she read his thoughts. “You spent a lot of time in the livery with your uncle.”

  “I seem to always remember horses around.” He hesitated. “Why did he sell the livery?”

  She smiled. “We were getting old, lad. Then some unsavory folk came through causing trouble around the end of the war, and Mr. Twining just didn’t like the place anymore. He sold it to Charlie Jones, who turned around and sold it to Lars Gilc
hrist a few years after that.”

  “Why—”

  “I’ll go see how Lily is making out with dinner. She brought a nice piece of venison from Mr. Bailyn and is planning on a stew.”

  Ben’s stomach rumbled despite the cake and tea.

  “It won’t be ready for another two hours.” Chuckling, she headed toward the door, cane supporting her, she supporting the tray.

  Ben sprang up faster than his head wanted him to and opened the door. He hoped for a glimpse of Lily, but the kitchen door stood closed.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” he murmured.

  ❧

  When Lily had to work late at the telegraph office the next day, Ben experienced a stab of disappointment. Great-Aunt Deborah and he ate leftover stew. Doc, however, gave him permission to begin going about his life: “If you take it easy.”

  The medical man sounded so stern that Ben said, “Yes, sir,” and felt like saluting.

  The doctor’s instructions made little impact on Ben’s actions. Immediately after Doc Smythe left, Ben donned his coat—washed and pressed, he noted—his hat, apparently retrieved from the road, and his boots. Protected against the cold, snowy weather, he departed for the sheriff’s office. Despite the chilly air, several persons moved about their business. Some of them spoke to him. Many tipped hats in greeting. All of them gave him a second glance.

  Ben smiled. He had spent too many days of his life as the stranger in a small town where everyone knew everyone else to mind about the looks of curiosity.

  “Soon I won’t be a stranger.”

  He expected they all knew who he was. The fact of someone shooting at him upon his arrival would make him even more of an oddity than the average stranger strolling through town.

  His head clearing for the first time since he stepped into that flying lead, Ben paused in the middle of the Main Street boardwalk and frowned. He’d known the sheriff wanted to speak with him about the shooting but figured the lawman simply wanted to know if Ben had seen anything that could identify the gunman.

  Ben didn’t believe for a minute that he had been the intended target of the shooting. He hoped the sheriff and others didn’t think that of him, either. The notion would make life uncomfortable for Great-Aunt Deborah. People might even think he should leave town.

  His quick prayer failed to lighten his heavy heart before he reached the sheriff’s office. Taking a deep breath, Ben opened the thick wooden door and stepped inside.

  Heat, the aroma of wood smoke and strong coffee, and a tuneless humming somewhere in another room met him inside. So did the surprisingly young man wearing the sheriff’s badge and seated with his feet propped on the desk.

  “How may I help you?” He had a deep, rich voice that seemed at odds with his cherubic countenance.

  “I’m Ben Purcell.” Ben held out his hand.

  “About time.” The sheriff swung his feet to the floor and rose. “You should have been in here four days ago.”

  Ben did not respond and withdrew his hand. The man knew why he hadn’t been.

  “Name’s Dodd. Billy Dodd. Have a seat. Coffee?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Deciding the man was friendlier than his words had first implied, Ben lowered himself onto the other chair. “I suppose you don’t have much crime here, do you?”

  It seemed a good topic for conversing with a lawman.

  “No, sir.” Dodd chuckled. “I work at a saddler half my time. That’s why old Sheriff Morton moved on. Bored here.” He poured coffee from a pot simmering on the stove into two thick mugs and carried them to the desk. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. People just don’t get shot around here.”

  “I don’t get shot around anywhere.” Ben smiled.

  “Humph.” Dodd slid onto his chair and propped his elbows on the desk. “Funny thing that, you coming into town and getting hit straight off. Sure you didn’t bring an enemy along?”

  “Sheriff Dodd, sir. . .” Ben paused, choosing his words with care. “I don’t have many friends. Never stayed in one place long enough to make and keep them. But the same goes for enemies. As far as I know, I don’t have any of those.”

  “I can only take your word for that.” Dodd blew across the top of his coffee. “But in these parts, we’re inclined to take a man’s word. And you are Miz Twining’s nephew or something, aren’t you?”

  “Great-nephew, yes.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Dodd nodded. “That counts for something. We all think the world of her. So if she vouches for you, you stay.”

  Ben raised his eyebrows. “And if she didn’t?”

  “We don’t want crime in this town. Hasn’t been any since those train robbers rode in here and tried to settle right after the war.”

  Gold. Ben recalled Great-Aunt Deborah mentioning trouble coming to town and having something to do with the livery.

  “I mean,” Dodd added, “sometimes a youth gets ahold of some rotgut and kicks up a ruckus, and we have an occasional stealing of a horse or cow, but that’s all it is. Boring, but we like it that way.”

  “I can understand why.”

  Ben had experienced too many weeks in cities where one never left so much as an apple unattended or it disappeared.

  “So we want to catch the man who did this to Miz Twining’s nephew.” Dodd’s forehead creased with his frown. “Any ideas?”

  Ben shook his head. A few stars floated before his eyes. “No idea. I didn’t see a thing. It was getting dark and. . .”

  At the memory of seeing the small, female form ahead of him, he felt his neck grow warm under his collar.

  “I wasn’t looking for anyone. Just talking to Theo and—boom.” He touched the side of his head.

  “Hmm.” Dodd’s badge rose and fell with his sigh. “Thought maybe you’d remember something. It’s just such a strange thing.”

  “Yes, sir, it is.” Ben reckoned his coffee was cool enough to drink and took a sip. It was as thick as mud and tasted as rich as molasses after all the tea he’d had lately. “Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

  “Not your fault. But maybe you can tell me where you’re from and why it took you so long to come to Miz Twining after she was widowed.”

  “I’m from here.” Ben settled back in his chair, coffee cup in hand. “My parents had a farm a long time ago; then Momma died and Pa took to the roads and me along with him. I didn’t remember much about my family until Pa died and I went through his papers. I found some old letters from Deborah Twining and thought she might be my mother’s aunt, so I sent a telegram here to see if she was still around.”

  “Such a pity. My folks have been here for over thirty years, and my wife’s folks have been here nearly as long. Iowa wasn’t even a state yet, and they had it rough, but it’s paid off. We’re settled for good.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “If you’re telling me the truth about not having enemies here, then you’re welcome to stay. We still need folks to settle and help this town prosper.”

  “I’m telling the truth.” Ben took care not to let his annoyance show in his voice.

  Although Dodd continued in a friendly manner, Ben finished his coffee and departed from the office as quickly as he could without being impolite, for he couldn’t shake the notion that the sheriff didn’t quite believe him.

  Thoughtful about why the man would doubt him despite saying that the town would accept Deborah Twining’s great-nephew, Ben stepped from the heat to the cold and came face-to-face with Lily Reese.

  Seeing her by the light of day, even the gray light from the clouds, Ben knew he wouldn’t forget any detail now. With eyes the color of an October sky and hair the color of wheat, smooth, creamy skin, and a straight, slim nose, she appeared as delicate as the flower for which she was named. His mouth went dry, and words clogged his throat.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Purcell.” She gave him a smile that curled his toes up inside his boots. “I’m glad to see you about.”

  “I am, too. I mean, I’m glad t
o be about.”

  Now his ears burned.

  “May I walk you somewhere, Miss Reese?”

  The offer was bold, since they hadn’t been properly introduced, but he had listened to her voice for days and felt like he knew her.

  “Thank you for asking, but I need to rush off.” She began to move away from him as she spoke. “I begged Toby to come in and work at the telegraph office for an hour so I could reach the mercantile. It always closes before I finish work.”

  “I should be on my way to the mercantile myself.” Ben fell into step beside her. “I need to tell Mr. Gilchrist that I can start work on Monday.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I see you finally met the sheriff.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I did.”

  Lily laughed. “You expected someone older and wiser?”

  “I think I did.”

  Ben wanted to change the subject. He didn’t want to speak of how the sheriff seemed not to believe him regarding his lack of enemies. He glanced about, seeking another topic of conversation, and caught sight of a patch of ice right in front of them from where a shop’s eaves had dripped onto the walk.

  “Have a care.” He slipped one hand beneath her elbow to support her.

  She pulled her arm away so fast she slid on the frozen patch.

  He grasped her arm again, steadying her. “I warned you to have a care.” He made his tone light and teasing and smiled down at her.

  She stood motionless, looking up at him with alarm clouding her eyes and turning down the corners of her mouth.

  He felt like she looked—dazed.

  “I need to hurry.” Her voice sounded hoarse, not at all her usual clear tones.

  He nodded and released her. “I’d better let you. I’m not as quick as I’d like to be quite yet. We can talk some tonight at my aunt’s house.”

  But Lily didn’t arrive at Great-Aunt Deborah’s house that night.

  “She sent a note saying she was working late, that Theo would walk her home and she would eat with her friend Becky,” Great-Aunt Deborah explained. “Will you get that chicken off the stove? I can put it into the pot, but I can’t lift it once it’s filled with meat and stock.”