Better Than Gold Page 4

  Ben moved the stewed chicken from the stove. “You sit down. I’ll serve up.”

  Once they were seated with plates of fragrant chicken and biscuits and he had asked the blessing over the food, Ben brought up the subject of Miss Lily Reese again.

  “I ran into her today when I came out of the sheriff’s office.”

  “In the middle of the day?” Great-Aunt Deborah forked up some peas but didn’t eat them. “That’s odd.”

  Nothing was as odd or disturbing to his heart as the jolt he’d felt when he held her arm tightly enough to keep her from falling. Before, he had only experienced that sensation when he’d found himself too close to a lightning strike.

  And Lily had felt it, too. At least Ben presumed she did from that expression of dismay on her face.

  “I wonder why she wasn’t working,” Great-Aunt Deborah said.

  “She was headed to the mercantile. Someone named Toby was working for her for an hour, she said.”

  “Ah.” His aunt still looked thoughtful as she resumed eating. “Did you go see Mr. Gilchrist?”

  “I’ll go tomorrow. Miss Lily was headed there, so I thought I’d wait.”

  Great-Aunt Deborah’s snowy eyebrows arched. “Didn’t you want to walk with her?”

  “More than anything. I mean”—he laughed—“yes, ma’am, I thought it would be a fine thing to do, especially since the walk was icy. But she seemed in a hurry.”

  “Lily is always in a hurry. You need to run to keep up with her. But. . .” She paused for several bites, so long that Ben could barely stop himself from demanding she continue. At last, she set down her fork and folded her hands on the edge of the table. “Lily is the kindest and prettiest girl around. She is a hard worker and is always thinking up ways to help people out. She can cook and sew and loves the Lord when she remembers she is supposed to put Him first in her life, but she isn’t a girl you should fall for. Becky Bates is a much better prospect.”

  “Oh?” Ben’s appetite slackened. “Why do you say that after saying all those fine things about Miss Lily?”

  “Because she doesn’t want a man who wants to stay in a small town like you do.” Great-Aunt Deborah sighed heavily enough to make her body tremble. “Lily was left alone on her family farm for months. Now she wants nothing more than to move to a big city as fast as possible.”

  Four

  Lily shivered, though she felt no cold even in her drafty telegraph office. She experienced the sensation of Ben’s hand firm on her arm, and it made her warm all over. A terrible predicament.

  “I don’t want to find him attractive.” She spoke aloud in the empty office. “Mrs. Twining says he wants to stay here, and he works in a livery.”

  It was a good job. Many ladies would be happy to catch a husband like him. Lily didn’t happen to be one of those females who were satisfied with a man who merely had a good job. She didn’t need to be rich; she simply wanted to be more than a girl from a farm or a small town.

  Now she had even more motivation for wanting to get Ben’s room behind the livery fixed up nice so he could move in. Mrs. Willoughby wasn’t charging her much rent in exchange for help around the house, and she still took her meals at Mrs. Twining’s in exchange for cooking and shopping and housework. Still, even a few bits a week depleted Lily’s savings.

  “And Mrs. Twining wants him to stay with her.” Lily rubbed her eyes.

  She had scarcely slept since her encounter with Ben the day before. All night, she’d tossed and turned, remembering, touching her arm, trying to rub away the tingle, trying not to see his face, which looked as dazed as she’d felt.

  Good. Maybe he didn’t want to like her, either. He needed a nice, quiet girl. Becky would be perfect for him. She wanted nothing more than a home and family and maybe a trip into Davenport for shopping once a year.

  Lily shuddered again and took a message off the telegraph regarding a robbery in Des Moines; she would pass it along to the sheriff in case the thieves came to Browning City.

  Jake would want the news, too. He was always looking for sensational news for his paper. Today’s issue had a long article about Ben Purcell arriving and getting shot. It ended with a plea for someone to confess to the crime or give information about the gunman.

  If only the incident had scared Ben off—

  Lily interrupted her thought before she finished it. “Please forgive me, Lord. I am being so unkind to him, and he is making Mrs. Twining so happy.”

  Miserable about her uncharitable attitude toward Ben Purcell, Lily escaped from the telegraph office the minute Toby arrived and said little to Theo as they trotted straight to Becky’s house.

  “Will you come help me with the livery living quarters?” she greeted her friend.

  Becky jumped back and flung up her hands. “Help! I think I’ve been run over by a locomotive. Where did it come from?”

  “I’m only a freight wagon.” Lily laughed and dropped her hat and coat onto a chest inside the Bateses’ front door.

  “Headed downhill. Come have some coffee or something and tell me what this is all about.” Becky turned and directed her steps toward the kitchen. “I haven’t seen you long enough this week to talk, and you were the first person to meet Ben Purcell.”

  “Theo met him at the train, but we never had a proper introduction.” With the familiarity of many visits, Lily began to take cups and saucers out of the cupboard while Becky set a coffeepot on the stove. “And he was kind of crazy in the head when I first spoke with him. Kept talking about seeing angels.”

  “Was he that close to death?” Becky turned her face to show her eyes wide with horror. “I thought it was just a scalp wound.”

  “It was.” Lily set down the cups and hugged her friend. “He thought I was an angel is all. Silly man.”

  “I think that is terribly romantic.” Becky sighed. “Do you think it was love at first sight?”

  “No such thing.” Lily remembered the jolt at his touch on her arm and turned away in case she blushed. “Now, if he’d seen you, I’d believe it.”

  “Ha. I’m too dark to be mistaken for an angel.”

  Becky did have dark hair and eyes, and the roses in her cheeks made her complexion glow with good health. In Lily’s opinion, Becky was the prettiest girl in Browning City.

  “I went to the mercantile today, and Mr. Gilchrist said he would send over all the things we need to make that room behind the livery fine to live in.” Lily spoke too fast in her desire to change the subject away from talk of romance and Ben Purcell.

  She could talk about Ben Purcell and his having a nice place to live besides Mrs. Twining’s.

  “It needs to be cleaned and some rugs put on the floor and curtains and things. But the walls are solid. Will you help me?”

  “You know I will.” Becky left the coffee simmering and lifted the lid on a pot of rice and beans.

  Spicy steam drifted into the room.

  “I thought red beans and rice were for Mondays.” Lily inhaled the exotic aroma.

  Becky’s parents were from Louisiana and ate things not common in Browning City.

  “It is, but Momma was sick on Monday, so we put off the washing.” Becky lowered her voice. “I think she’s increasing. Imagine that. Me with another brother or sister when I’m nineteen.”

  “You’re so lucky.” Lily’s tone was wistful.

  She never stopped missing her family.

  “We are blessed, but you will be one day, too. God will give you a family again.”

  Lily said nothing. She wasn’t so sure Becky was right.

  “Do you want a dish of this rice before the hordes come in to eat it all?” Becky asked.

  “I’ll wait for the hordes.”

  Lily enjoyed the tumult around the Bateses’ dinner table. She never failed to leave smiling.

  “We can talk about how to fix up that room until they come. Mr. Purcell needs a place of his own to live.”

  Becky nodded. “Especially since everyone says he i
ntends to stay here for good.”

  ❧

  Saturday afternoon, Lily and Becky stood in the middle of the living quarters behind the livery barn and grimaced at each other.

  “It’s gloomy,” Becky pronounced.

  “It is.” Lily glanced from the small, grimy window to the floor littered with crushed leaves, dirt, and she didn’t want to guess what else, to the stove so caked with grease it would catch fire if anyone struck a match near it, let alone inside it. “The last man who lived here must have been a vagabond,” Lily said.

  “Since Mr. Jones sold it to Mr. Gilchrist, no one’s lived here for long.” Becky hefted a bristle brush from the supplies Mr. Gilchrist had sent over for them to use. “The last man said he didn’t like the sounds the place makes.”

  “How could he work in a livery and not like the sound of horses?”

  Lily thought that the best part. Horses were such beautiful creatures, and she liked the sound of them munching hay and grain.

  Becky giggled. “He said people walked around in the livery at night. But he never saw anyone, and we know ghosts don’t exist.”

  “Some folk don’t take to being alone.”

  Lily had imagined all sorts of awful things when she was alone on her family farm, before the bank men came to send her away because she couldn’t pay the mortgage.

  “But a body isn’t really alone here.” Becky handed Lily a bucket and picked one up herself. “I mean, there are all sorts of people close by, and I don’t know a soul here who wouldn’t let you in for a talk and cup of coffee.”

  “Me, either.” Lily headed for the pump in the yard. Hot water would be better than the icy stuff that would come out of the well, but she dared not light the stove. “We’ll clean that stove first. The rest will be easy after that.”

  It was. After four hours of hard work that left their hands red, dresses soiled, and hearts satisfied with the labor, Lily and Becky found the stove dried out enough for a fire. They lit it and two lanterns then stood back to survey their handiwork.

  “It looks nice now,” Becky declared.

  “It does. I think he’ll be comfortable here.”

  Yellows and oranges might not be the colors a man would choose, but they brightened the dark wood walls with curtains, rag rugs, and a bedspread provided from Mrs. Twining’s attic. With the fire warming up the room and a few kitchen utensils inviting a body to cook a simple meal, the room was habitable.

  “It’s just not as nice as living at Mrs. Twining’s.” Lily didn’t mean to speak her thoughts aloud, but once they were out, she was glad she had. “I know she wants him to stay.”

  “But you’ve lived with her for three years.” Becky dropped onto the room’s only chair, now cushioned with pillows Lily had sewn between messages at the telegraph office. “It’s your room.”

  “It’s Mrs. Twining’s room.”

  “And doesn’t living with Mrs. Willoughby cost you money?”

  “Not much if I do some work for her.” Lily leaned against the door leading from the room to the livery—and it opened behind her.

  “Yie!” Lily staggered back. Strong hands caught her by the elbows. Ben’s hands. She knew it without glancing up.

  And she looked a fright with her hair tied up in a kerchief, her face likely smudged, since Becky’s was, and her gown soiled. She cared and wondered why she should. She didn’t care what Ben thought of her looks. Now, if Matt walked in. . .

  “I beg your pardon.” Ben still held her elbows. “I didn’t expect. . .this.” His voice grew husky. “Did you ladies do all this for me?”

  “Mrs. Twining and Mr. Gilchrist provided the supplies.” Becky, her cheeks rosier than usual, drew her skirt together over a streak of dirt down the front. “We just provided the elbow grease. I’m Becky Bates, Lily’s friend, by the way.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Bates. And thank you.” Ben let go. “I thought—I was expecting. . .” He cleared his throat. “How can I thank you?”

  “No thanks necessary.” Becky spoke to him, but she stared at Lily.

  Lily knew why. She wasn’t usually tongue-tied. Between embarrassment over Ben’s seeing her so grubby and her guilty conscience, words escaped her.

  “I feel like I should do something to repay you,” Ben continued.

  “Don’t, please.” Lily scampered to the far side of the room and began to fuss with the fall of a curtain. “It was nothing.”

  “Not to me.” Ben’s boot heels clicked on the floorboards. “It’s the closest thing to a home I’ve had since I can remember. And I know you gave up a day off to do this for me.”

  Lily shrugged. She couldn’t say that she had nothing better to do; she did. She had lace to crochet and sew on her dress before church the next day, as Matt should be back from his travels. He would be at church, and she could talk to him during the fellowship time afterward.

  “Would that be acceptable to you, too, Miss Lily?”

  Ben’s speaking her name brought Lily back to the present.

  She faced him. “I’m sorry. I was thinking of something else.”

  Good. That would convince him that her work on his room meant nothing to her.

  Except it does.

  She gulped. “What did you ask?”

  Becky’s eyes widened, and her mouth formed an O of confusion.

  “I asked if I could take you two ladies to dinner at the hotel as a thank-you for your work.” Ben smiled at her in a tight-lipped way that told her he was unsure of himself.

  She wanted to refuse.

  She wanted to cry.

  She could do neither.

  “You need not thank us,” she said.

  “But. . .” Becky pressed the back of her hand to her lips.

  Lily knew Becky would love to go to dinner at the hotel as a guest, because she worked there on the occasions when it was full, such as for a wedding dinner. If Lily refused, Becky couldn’t accept.

  “We need to clean up,” Lily hedged.

  “There’s time for that.” Ben gave her an encouraging smile.

  “It won’t take either of us long.” Becky’s face brightened. “It can’t be much later than four o’clock.”

  “All right, then.” Lily made herself smile. “Should we meet you there?”

  “No, I’ll collect both of you. Miss Becky, where do you live?”

  Becky gave him directions to her house. “It’s on the far side of town but won’t take you a minute to get there.”

  “Then I’ll collect you first. Miss Lily, we will see you about six o’clock if that will do.”

  “It’ll do fine.” Lily added quietly, “Thank you. Here’s the key Mr. Gilchrist gave me when I offered to clean.”

  “We’d better hurry.” Becky headed for the outside door.

  “Good day.” Lily gathered up bristle brushes and buckets.

  Ben opened the door for them. “I still can’t get over all this work you two did. Now I can move in here, and you can come back and stay in your own room.”

  Lily nodded. She would be a hypocrite if she said he need not do that. Yet she felt as though that were the right thing to say. So she said nothing as she and Becky departed.

  “What’s wrong?” Becky posed the question the instant they were out of earshot.

  “I feel terrible.” Lily glanced over her shoulder.

  Ben couldn’t see them once they were on the street.

  “You should have said something. If you’re ill, we shouldn’t go to dinner.”

  “Not that kind of terrible. In here.” Lily tapped her chest with a bristle brush handle.

  “Why? Using your day off to fix that place up should make you feel good. It is a fine example of service to another.”

  Lily walked several paces in silence then blurted out, “It wasn’t a service. It was completely selfish.”

  “What are you talking about? You aren’t at all selfish. I remember the time we all had the influenza—”

  “Stop.” Lily waved the bru
sh in the air. “Yes, I know I helped your family. You all welcomed me the minute I moved here and didn’t know a soul. What else would I do but repay you for your kindness? But this wasn’t a repayment.”

  “Which makes it all that much more special.”

  “No, it’s not special. I did this for me.”

  “You, but—oh!” The exclamation emerged as though someone had punched Becky in the middle. “You did it so he will move there, and you can return to Mrs. Twining’s and not pay rent anymore, right?”

  “Right. And that’s wrong. And now he wants to take us out to dinner to thank us. And I don’t deserve it.” Breathless from her speech, Lily fell silent.

  Becky said nothing, either. Their footfalls crunched on gravel, and their breath puffed white in the dusk gray air. Around them, lights winked on in the houses and the aromas of cooking suppers wafted into the evening.

  Lily’s stomach growled. “I guess dinner will be good. Mrs. Meddler sets a fine table. But I don’t deserve it.”

  “Well, I do.” Becky stuck her nose in the air pertly, minced a few steps, then laughed. “You know, Lil, sometimes people do nice things for themselves. Your reason for fixing up the room might not be charitable, but I think he wants to take us to dinner because he’s sweet on you.”

  “Nonsense. He doesn’t know me.”

  But he’d looked as stunned as she’d felt when he first touched her arm.

  She shook off the memory. “I think he would be a perfect match for you.”

  “Now who’s talking nonsense?” Becky laughed. “Didn’t you see how he couldn’t stop looking at you?”

  “No, I did not.”

  She’d had her back to him most of the time.

  “Well, it’s true. He did. That’s why I say he’s sweet on you.”

  “If you’re right—and I’m not saying you are—he can have his mind changed.” Lily smiled, her spirits lightening at the prospect of playing matchmaker. “It’s perfect. You want to be a wife and mother here in Browning City. And he says he wants to stay here. He has an excellent position there at the livery, and—stop laughing. People will come out and stare at us. I am serious.”