Carol Cox Read online

  “That gingham sure is pretty,” Slocum said, interrupting her thoughts. “Reminds me of the time I saw that Indian brave wrap a bolt of red calico around him, climb on his horse, and ride away with it streaming out behind him.”

  Melanie froze with her hands resting on the curtain bracket. “Oh my! Where did that happen?”

  “Right out in front of this store.” The man’s tone was as unconcerned as if he’d been discussing the weather. “Back in the early days of Cedar Ridge, there wasn’t much more than the mercantile here, and only a handful of people.”

  Melanie felt her knees grow weak as she climbed down the ladder. “You mean it happened here? At this store? How long ago was this?”

  “Let me see.” Slocum squinted his eyes, moving his lips as he calculated. “Musta been ten years or more ago, but I never will forget that sight.” He glanced at Melanie, seeming to recognize her distress for the first time. “But don’t let that bother you none. There haven’t been any depredations around these parts in . . . oh, three or four years now.” He offered the information with a smile, in the manner of one bestowing a gift. “That kind of thing has settled down all over the territory. . . . Well, pretty much, anyway. No sign of ’em around here anymore, unless you count the ruins out on the other side of the creek.”

  If his words were meant to give her comfort, the attempt had failed. Melanie swallowed hard, scooted the ladder across the floor, and climbed up to put the other end in place.

  The bell jingled, and Melanie swiveled around on her precarious perch as Caleb and Levi walked inside carrying their fishing poles.

  Levi fairly radiated excitement as he struggled to lift up a stringer holding a sizable trout. “Look what we got! Papa caught three little fish”—he dismissed Caleb’s string of fish with a flick of his head—“but I caught the big one!”

  Melanie couldn’t keep from smiling at his infectious joy. “Good for you. It sounds like you had a wonderful time.” She turned to include his father in her statement.

  Caleb stood stock-still, gaping at the front windows with bulging eyes. “What is going on here?” Setting his fishing pole next to the door, he stepped toward the nearest window, fingered the curtain Melanie had just put up, and turned to glare at her and her helper. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

  Earl Slocum shuffled and glanced at the door. “I reckon it’s time for me to be moseyin’ on.” He helped Melanie step down, then touched his finger to his forehead. “I’ll be seein’ you again one of these days.” He exited the store with far more energy than he had shown thus far, leaving Melanie face-to-face with Caleb.

  She swallowed and forced herself to meet his outraged expression, refusing to be intimidated by his obvious pique. “Mr. Slocum has been very helpful this afternoon,” she said in an airy tone. “I had a problem with the stepladder, and he repaired it for me.”

  When Caleb continued to glower without speaking, she added, “It was a very curious thing. One of the rungs was broken nearly all the way through. Mr. Slocum thought someone might have done it deliberately.”

  Caleb brushed her comment off as though shooing away a pesky fly. “Earl Slocum is a good man, but he has a tendency to embellish. Don’t try to distract me by changing the subject.”

  He retrieved his fishing pole and stringer and handed them to Levi, then spoke in an even tone. “Take these fish home and put them in the kitchen, son. We’ll have them for supper tonight.” After the little boy scampered off, Caleb turned back to Melanie, his brows knotted together in a fierce scowl. “I asked you a question. What is all this?”

  Melanie drew herself up, bracing for battle. “They are known as curtains. Surely you’ve heard the term before.”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed down to slits. “I am quite aware of what they’re called, Miss Ross, but what are they doing hanging in my store?”

  “Don’t you think they’re attractive?” Melanie chose to ignore the issue of ownership. One battle at a time was enough. “They aren’t quite finished. I’ll have to hem them this evening after the store closes, but I wanted you to be able to picture the full effect when you got home.”

  His only response was a low grating noise that sounded like teeth grinding together. Melanie swallowed. This was not quite the response she had hoped for.

  “And what’s the idea of putting all that stuff in the window?”

  Melanie turned to follow his pointing finger and stepped across to pull the curtain back, revealing the display she had arranged so carefully. “You mean the table holding the oil lamp, the reticule, and the lace fan?”

  Caleb jerked his head in a brusque nod. “And that bonnet, hanging off to the side all by itself.”

  Melanie favored him with a bright smile. “When women look in store windows, they like to see items they can use. Displaying them in a group like that helps them picture new ways to use them, which in turn boosts sales. I’ve seen it done back east, and believe me, it’s quite effective.”

  Caleb waved his arm toward the window. “But that table and the few things on it are all you can see from the outside. You can’t look in beyond the curtains.”

  Melanie dropped her hand and let the gingham panel fall back into place. “That’s the point. Draw their interest with the window display, and they’ll clamor to come inside and see what else we have.” She looked at him hopefully, but his forbidding expression told her he wasn’t convinced. Before he could start ranting again, she decided to share her news of the day’s success.

  She strolled toward the counter with an air of nonchalance. “You’ll be pleased to know that things went quite well in your absence. Mrs. Pike came in a little while ago.”

  Caleb grew still and gave her a wary look. “Was she able to find everything she wanted?”

  Melanie beamed. He couldn’t have set this up better for her if she’d written his lines out for him. “She was interested in purchasing a new set of fine china. We didn’t have that in stock, of course, but she placed an order before she left. She even paid for it in advance.”

  Caleb drew in a deep breath and some of his earlier tension seemed to melt away. “That’s good. She’s a valuable customer, and her opinion carries a lot of weight in this town.”

  Basking in his unexpected approval, Melanie added, “I went ahead and placed another order after she left.”

  Caleb’s countenance brightened even more. “Oh? Who was this one for?”

  “For us.” Melanie couldn’t keep the satisfaction from showing in her voice. “If Ophelia Pike is interested in china, we can be sure the other ladies in the community will follow suit. So I ordered another set.”

  “You what?” Caleb’s roar shook the rafters. “You ordered an entire set of china? Without anyone actually interested in purchasing it?”

  Melanie gulped and managed a small nod. “I thought it would be helpful to have a set on display.”

  Caleb’s face turned beet red. “You mean you didn’t think at all. Don’t you realize putting money into something like that is merely speculative? It’ll be tied up until someone decides to buy that china . . . if anyone ever does.” He raked both hands through his hair, leaving it standing straight on end. “We are trying to make a profit here, in case you hadn’t noticed. This is not the same as stocking up on items like flour and sugar, things we know people will want.”

  Melanie tried to recapture the enthusiasm she’d felt earlier when she made the impulsive decision. “But as an investment—”

  “It isn’t an investment if a future sale isn’t a certainty. That’s gambling, not good business. We can’t afford to speculate on frivolous items like that.”

  The back door swung open, and Levi scampered inside. He drew up short when he saw his father’s dark scowl.

  Caleb shuffled through some loose papers on the counter, then turned on Melanie. “Where is that order?” he demanded. “I want you to tear it up right now. And don’t ever do anything like that again without consulting me first.”

/>   Melanie planted her fists on her hips and raised her chin. “It’s too late to do that now. The order is already in the mailbag.”

  “Then we’ll just take it out again.” Caleb rounded the counter and strode over to the bag. Thrusting his arm inside, he began rummaging through the envelopes there.

  Melanie folded her arms across her chest. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  Caleb only glared at her and continued rooting in the mailbag.

  “You do realize, don’t you, that once an envelope is placed inside that bag, it officially comes under the protection of the United States Postal Service? And that tampering with the mail is a criminal offense?”

  Caleb’s arm froze and he stared at Melanie. Except for the convulsive movement of his jaw muscles, he looked as if he’d been turned to stone.

  Soft steps scuffed across the floorboards, and Levi came to stand beside Melanie, gazing at his father in awe. “You mean Papa’s going to jail?”

  Caleb withdrew his arm from the mailbag and clenched his hands together to keep them from reaching out and throttling the infuriating woman. “No, son, I am not going to jail. Miss Ross is making a little joke.” He glared daggers at Melanie, daring her to contradict him.

  Instead of responding, she merely smiled as if enjoying her small triumph. Then she strolled across to a back shelf, picked up an antimacassar, and disappeared behind one of the blue gingham curtains. Adding it to her window display, no doubt.

  Caleb struggled to control his ragged breathing, hardly able to believe the audacity of the woman, even though he could see the evidence right before his eyes. Blue gingham curtains. In his store.

  What did she think she was doing? It was one thing to barge in, claiming George Ross’s share of the store as her inheritance, but this . . . He squeezed his fists until his fingers ached. This was out-and-out subversion.

  His gray-eyed nemesis reemerged from behind the curtain and started to carry the bolt of the remaining blue fabric to its shelf. Caleb closed the distance between them in three long strides and planted himself in her way. “What other havoc did you manage to wreak while I was gone?” He fixed her with a fierce gaze intended to make her wither like a delicate flower under a blazing sun.

  Instead of wilting, the obstinate female faced him squarely and held her ground. “We had a scattering of customers here and there, but not a lot. I made a few sales, but none of them amounted to much . . . except for Mrs. Pike’s order.” The sweet smile she bestowed on him made Caleb’s blood simmer. Was she laughing at him?

  Levi trotted over to join them. “Did any more cowboys ask you to marry them while we were gone?”

  Melanie’s gaze flickered to one side before she gave a tiny nod.

  Caleb’s interest quickened. “Oh? How many?”

  The simple question achieved what his blustering hadn’t. She seemed to shrink before his eyes.

  “One.” The word came out in the barest whisper.

  One? The proposals were slowing down. It was time to put his plan into motion. He just had to encourage the right man to ask her.

  With her eyes cast down toward the floor, Melanie skirted around him to replace the bolt of fabric. Then she picked up a matching tortoiseshell comb and brush and headed toward the front of the store.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Caleb reached out and caught hold of the brush as she tried to scoot past him, intending to pull it from her hands, but she only tightened her grip. “What were you planning to do with this?”

  Melanie set her jaw and looked up at him with a mulish expression. “I am putting the finishing touches on my window display.”

  Caleb felt a wave of heat rise up his neck. “No. Enough is enough. I really must insist—”

  She wrapped the fingers of her other hand around the brush handle and tugged on it. “Did I happen to mention that Marshal Hooper was one of the customers who came in earlier? I was so pleased to finally have the chance to meet him. Such a kind and gracious man. We had a lovely chat.”

  Caleb snapped his mouth shut to hold back the angry words threatening to spill out. Her features were bland enough, but he hadn’t missed the quick tilt at the corners of her lips, gone as quickly as it had appeared. Even in that fleeting instance, he had recognized the expression for what it was: the assurance of victory. As long as she could wield the marshal’s name as a weapon, she had Caleb right where she wanted him, and he knew it.

  And she knew he knew it.

  All the more reason to put his plan into action without delay.

  “I’m telling you, fellows, she came out west planning to stay. She isn’t some frail little flower who’s afraid to get her hands dirty, or someone who’ll go running back east the moment a problem arises.”

  Caleb leaned back against the counter and surveyed the group of men circled in front of him and hanging on his every word. It almost seemed like divine intervention in favor of his plan when a contingent of soldiers from Fort Verde sauntered into the store only moments after Melanie left on some errand. He’d been quick to take advantage of the situation and had been holding forth on the winning attributes of the charming Miss Ross for the past ten minutes.

  A short, wiry man near the front of the group regarded Caleb thoughtfully. “I’ve seen her, and I’ll admit she’s a looker. But can she cook?”

  A murmur of assent ran around the group, and Caleb fought to maintain his glee. They were interested, all right. Like dry tinder waiting for a spark. All they needed was a little encouragement. Surely at some point, one of the men in the surrounding area would catch Melanie’s notice and win her favor. His task was to provide her the widest field possible to choose from.

  A barrel-chested officer scuffed his boot and slanted a skeptical look at Caleb. “If she’s as great a catch as you’re making her out to be, why are you so anxious to see her married off to someone else?”

  The unexpected question made Caleb sputter. Before he could frame a satisfactory answer, he heard a loud “Hsst!” from the man nearest the front window.

  “She’s comin’ back!” he whispered. “She’s almost here!”

  Caleb pushed himself away from the counter and leveled a stern gaze at the group of potential suitors. “Act natural, men. Women have sensitive feelings, and we don’t want to let on that we’ve been talking about her.”

  He picked up the feather duster and began swiping at the nearest shelf while the men spread throughout the store. Several of them slipped out the back door, apparently not ready to begin a matrimonial pursuit just yet. Just as Melanie entered the front door, one of them turned and gave Caleb a broad wink.

  Caleb smothered a chuckle as he continued to dust. He had set the wheels in motion. All he had to do now was stand back and let nature take its course.

  11

  Melanie leaned over the basin, dipped her hands into the water, and splashed it on her face. Immediately, a series of goosebumps prickled up her arms and rippled across her shoulder blades. She hurried over to the bed, where she had laid out her dress, and pulled it over her head, fastening the buttons with chilled fingers.

  Throwing a light shawl over her shoulders, she walked to the window, where she pushed the curtain to one side and leaned her arms on the sill, taking in the invigorating sight of the rolling hills and jagged cliffs silhouetted against the sunrise. And what a sunrise! Shades of scarlet, gold, pink, and orange blazed across the sky in a breathtaking array. Had she ever seen such brilliant hues back east?

  “Thank you for this beautiful day.” The words escaped her lips on a sigh of pure delight. Ever since her walk around town, she felt an increasing sense of assurance that she’d made the right choice. She belonged in Cedar Ridge. Though the town lacked many of the advantages of city life, its untamed quality brought with it a sense of connecting with the world around her in a way she had never experienced before. Like a storm-tossed wayfarer sailing into port, she felt she had found her home at last.

  Melanie breathed deep of the crisp morning
air. She had to agree with the words of the poet Browning—God indeed sat enthroned in His heaven, and all was right with her world.

  Turning from the window, she retrieved her buttonhook from the top of the dresser and sat on the edge of her bed to fasten her shoes, reflecting on how quickly life could change. Only a short time ago, she assumed she would spend the rest of her days caring for other people’s children. Now she was establishing her place as a merchant in a growing community. And all through an incident that seemed at first like an utter disaster.

  She smiled. How like the Lord to create beauty from the ashes of her despair and turn her heartache into rejoicing! Young Clarence Deaver’s accusations, intended to bring about her downfall, had instead opened the doorway to the opportunity of a lifetime, something like the way God had turned calamity into victory for Joseph in the Bible.

  True, her presence in Cedar Ridge hadn’t caused any rejoicing on Caleb Nelson’s part, but he would come around in time. If God could help Joseph find favor in Pharaoh’s eyes, He could do the same for her where this stubborn man was concerned.

  She crossed the room to the dresser and arranged her hair, smiling at her reflection in the mirror while she undid her night braid and picked up her hairbrush. Smiling came more easily to her these days. Once relieved of her position as the Deavers’ governess it seemed as though a heavy burden had been lifted off her shoulders.

  No more being caught in that lonely middle ground between gentry and servants, interacting with both worlds but a part of neither. She was a businesswoman, a merchant, on an equal footing with anyone in town. All she had to be concerned with now was building her own future. No more having to deal with overindulged children like Clarence Deaver Jr.

  Her smile dimmed, remembering the boy’s perfidy and the way the poisonous lies had slipped so easily off his tongue without one whit of concern as to how those untruths would affect her . . . or anyone else. She drew the brush through her hair in long, smooth strokes. Whose life was he making miserable now? She pushed away the twinge of guilt that arose at the realization that by now someone else would have stepped into her place as the one the boy would use as his scapegoat.