Carol Cox Read online

  Caleb stood as though he’d been turned to stone, his hand still reaching into open air. “I . . . I was just . . .”

  Mrs. Pike backed away from him a step. As she did so, Melanie saw the soldiers teeter, then slide off the bustle and down the back of the voluminous skirts to hit the floor with a muffled clatter. Melanie held her breath, but Mrs. Pike was so caught up in her indignation she didn’t notice.

  She held Caleb in place with an icy stare. “May I ask what you think you are doing?”

  Caleb continued to stammer. “I thought I saw . . . something . . . on the back of your . . . um . . .” His voice trailed off, and his face turned dark red.

  “Well, I never! A gentleman doesn’t accost a lady like that, regardless of what he thinks he may have seen.” Holding her head high, Mrs. Pike pushed the bolt of fabric into his hands and swept out of the store.

  Levi ran to Melanie and buried his face in her skirt. Melanie couldn’t blame him. From the look on his father’s face, she could only imagine the dire consequences he was planning for the boy for putting him in that predicament.

  Caleb looked over his shoulder at the miner, who didn’t seem to be paying them the least bit of attention. When he turned back around, he crossed the floor to where Levi cowered next to Melanie and spoke in a fierce whisper. “What do you think you were doing?”

  Levi flinched. “I was just lining up my soldiers.”

  Caleb ran his finger around the edge of his collar. “But why on . . . ? Why there?”

  Levi pointed at Melanie. “She told me to.”

  Melanie gasped and stared at Levi in shock. “What? I did no such thing!”

  The little boy bobbed his head up and down. “You did. You told me to set them up on a shelf.”

  Caleb shifted his smoldering glare to Melanie. At that moment, she wished she had someone to hide behind. Judging by Caleb’s expression, Levi wasn’t the only one in hot water.

  Melanie watched Levi scamper ahead of her along the boardwalk, reveling in the freedom of being outside, in the open air. As he should be, she thought. Children needed to be outdoors instead of spending their days cooped up inside. Perhaps she should suggest to Caleb that he take his son out for some time together every day. If he felt uneasy about leaving her to her own devices in the store while he was gone, she could offer to take the boy herself.

  Today, though, she had simply taken Levi by the hand and left. Outdoors was the best place for both of them to be at the moment, on the far side of Lincoln Street, away from Caleb’s steely glare.

  Not that he didn’t have some justification for his anger, she thought, remembering Ophelia Pike’s face when she saw his hand hovering near her backside.

  Melanie glanced over her shoulder and saw Caleb watching them from the doorway. She let out a sigh of relief when a pair of customers arrived and Caleb went back inside to help them.

  She continued strolling south on Lincoln, nodding to the people she passed. Every day, it seemed, she met more of the citizens of Cedar Ridge and felt a little more like a part of the community, and a welcome one at that—where everyone but Caleb was concerned.

  Levi picked up a stick that had been lying in the street and straddled it as if it were a horse. Melanie smiled at the little boy’s active imagination. He was full of energy and mischief, to be sure, but his mischief was of a different sort than Clarence Deaver’s. Levi wasn’t hurtful or intentionally malicious. He was just a spirited young child who needed a firm, consistent hand to bring him into line.

  A cowboy from one of the nearby ranches rode by, tipping his hat to Melanie as he passed, presumably on his way to the livery stable, or perhaps the Silver Moon. She heard a brisk clatter of hooves on the street behind her. Looking over her right shoulder, she saw Marshal Hooper on his buckskin gelding. She raised her hand to wave a greeting but lowered it when she saw his stern, unsmiling expression. She’d already dealt with one man in a sour mood that afternoon. She had no desire to strike up a conversation with another.

  The marshal pulled his horse to a stop in front of his office. Then he dismounted and started to loop the reins around the hitching rail. Levi chose that moment to gallop past, firing an imaginary six-shooter as he went by.

  The buckskin set his feet and jerked back, nearly upsetting the marshal, who let out a string of words unsuitable for the ears of ladies and children.

  Levi watched the lawman struggle to get his horse under control, listening in wonder at his display of language.

  Marshal Hooper retied the gelding, then strode over to Levi and stood towering over the boy. “What’s the matter with you?” he roared. “Don’t you know better than to run up on a man while he’s tying his horse?”

  Melanie took a tentative step forward, wondering if she ought to intervene.

  Levi craned his neck to look up at the marshal. Then without a word, he drew back his right leg and kicked the lawman squarely on the shin.

  The marshal let out a howl, snatched Levi up by the back of his belt, and marched toward the mercantile, bellowing for Caleb.

  Melanie flew into action, charging into the street to cut him off. She took up a stance squarely in front of the marshal and planted her feet. “Put that child down!”

  Marshal Hooper stared at her, open-mouthed. He lowered his arm a few inches, but Levi’s feet still flailed well above ground level. Out of the corner of her eye, Melanie could see people stopping along the boardwalk to gape at the scene she was making, but she was too angry to care.

  She spoke again in her most severe tone. “You heard me. Put the boy down at once. You’re scaring him.”

  The marshal eyed her steadily, then swept his gaze along the boardwalk, taking in the gathering crowd. Slowly, he set Levi on his feet.

  As if to prove her right, Levi dashed over to Melanie and wrapped both arms around her waist. Clinging tight, he raised his face to hers. “Save me, Mama!”

  Melanie put her arm around his shoulders and held him tight, ignoring his slip of the tongue. “Don’t worry, Levi. I intend to.”

  Marshal Hooper’s face turned a dull red, and his eyes shifted from one side of the street to the other. “I wasn’t planning to do the boy any harm, ma’am. But it isn’t the first time he’s done a tomfool thing like that.” He pointed at Levi, who had once again buried his face in the folds of Melanie’s skirt. “He doesn’t need to be mollycoddled. The boy has to take responsibility for his actions. What he needs is a good talking to, maybe even a trip to the woodshed.”

  Melanie didn’t take her eyes off the lawman, but she heard the scattered murmurs of assent clearly enough. Over the buzz from the rest of the crowd, Ophelia Pike’s voice rose clearly: “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

  Melanie tightened her arm around Levi’s shoulders. “He has a father who can see to that. I’ll be sure to let him know.”

  She glanced down at the little boy, who was still cowering against her, and her throat thickened. How could she ever have thought he was like Clarence Deaver? Levi wasn’t a self-centered, manipulative, spoiled brat. He was just a scared little boy who needed attention, and she had the skills to provide that, to help steer him away from the path Clarence’s life had taken.

  She reached down and tilted up Levi’s chin so he had to look into her face. “Young man, you need to apologize to the marshal for kicking him. That is not acceptable behavior.”

  Levi looked at her in mute appeal, but she stood firm. She could tell the moment he recognized he’d lost when his shoulders slumped and he looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  “And . . . ?” Melanie prodded.

  Levi heaved a sigh that seemed to come all the way from his toes. “And it won’t happen again.”

  Melanie looked back over her shoulder at the mercantile and saw Caleb come to the door, apparently drawn by the commotion. She watched his mouth drop open when he spotted his son and his business partner as the center of attention.

  She patted Levi on the head
and gave him a tiny push. “Run on back to the store now. Your father is looking for you.”

  She turned to the marshal again. “If there is nothing further . . . ?” When he didn’t answer, she gave him a polite nod and followed Levi, trying to look as though she saw nothing out of the ordinary about having an altercation with the local law in the middle of the street.

  When she reached the door of the mercantile, she hesitated, then decided to walk a bit farther. There was no telling what Caleb’s reaction would be to her public squabble with Marshal Hooper. If he planned to take her to task for that, she didn’t feel ready to face him just yet.

  Turning left, she headed toward the bakery. Maybe one of their powdered sugar doughnuts would help settle her nerves. As she stepped down into the street at the corner of Pine Street, her heel caught on the edge of the boardwalk, and she pitched forward onto the dirt with her hands splayed out to break her fall. Sand and small pebbles tore at her palms as she slid across the ground.

  Melanie heard the sound of boots thudding along the wooden walk. “Miss Ross? Are you all right?”

  A moment later, Dooley Hatcher knelt beside her, concern etched in his face.

  “I’m fine.” She grimaced as she tried to push herself upright.

  “You sure? Here, let me help you.” Dooley offered his arm with a gentlemanly flourish. She put her hand in the crook of his arm and winced when her palm touched his sleeve.

  Dooley led her to a bench just outside the dressmaker’s shop. “What’s wrong with your hand? Better let me take a look.”

  Melanie extended her arm. While Dooley wasn’t someone she would ever encourage as a suitor, she found his solicitude touching.

  He knelt in front of her and cradled her hand in his, turning it so he could examine her palm. He pursed his lips and let out a low whistle. “You’d better get that cleaned up and put some iodine on it. It could have been worse, but it’s going to be sore for a few—”

  “Hey!”

  Dooley’s head jerked up, and his face paled. Melanie spun around to see Caleb barreling toward them, eating up the distance on the boardwalk with angry strides.

  “Leave her alone!” Caleb bellowed.

  Dooley sputtered. “But I was just—”

  “No, it’s off, I told you! No more proposals.”

  “But, Caleb, I wasn’t—”

  “Not another word. Just get yourself out of here, and leave Miss Ross alone.”

  Dooley put his hand on the bench and levered himself to his feet. As he shuffled away, Melanie heard him mutter, “And people say I’m crazy.”

  With his chest still heaving, Caleb turned to Melanie and opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then he turned on his heel and marched back to the mercantile.

  Melanie stared at his retreating back, trying to comprehend what had just happened. She heard a quiet tsk and whirled around to find Mrs. Fetterman standing behind her.

  The older woman’s faded blue eyes twinkled. “It’s amazing how many ways a man in love can find to make a fool of himself.”

  Melanie’s eyes widened. “What?”

  Mrs. Fetterman gave a gentle laugh. “Why, the man’s besotted. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  Melanie knew all too well the way Caleb usually looked at her. She’d caught the same expression on his face the other day when he stomped on a spider he’d discovered near the back shelves. She shook her head. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”

  Mrs. Fetterman chuckled again. “I’ve been wrong about many things in my lifetime, dearie, but this isn’t one of them. You’ll find that out in due time—trust me.” Giving Melanie a conspiratorial wink, she turned and walked away in the direction of her boardinghouse.

  Her words echoed in Melanie’s mind. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Mrs. Fetterman’s simple comment triggered a surge of emotions the woman could never have anticipated. Caleb Nelson might be set in his ways to the point of mulishness, but he was also a man of honor and integrity—the kind of man Melanie could allow herself to be drawn to . . . if there was any hope he might be attracted to her as well.

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” A flutter of hope stirred within her, soft as the beat of a butterfly’s wings. Was there any possibility Mrs. Fetterman could be right? After all, the woman had experienced more of life than Melanie had. And having been married herself, she knew more of the ways of men.

  On the other hand, Mrs. Fetterman had also remarked on the striking resemblance between Melanie and Cousin George. The flutter of hope shriveled and died, like a moth flying too close to a flame.

  Caleb Nelson attracted to her? It wasn’t possible. Unless . . .

  She thought back over his altercation with Dooley. Obviously, he had mistaken Dooley’s kneeling posture for yet another proposal of marriage.

  A warm glow swept through her. Just then, Caleb had looked more like an avenging angel than an ardent suitor, but that wasn’t the reason for her sudden contentment. Mistaken or not, he had come to her defense for the very first time.

  And she found she rather liked it.

  16

  That night Melanie drifted off to sleep listening to a light rain falling on the roof, certain that its gentle patter would lull her into a restful slumber.

  But in the middle of the night something jolted her awake and brought her sitting bolt upright. Had she heard a noise? She listened, hands clasped to her chest in an effort to control her ragged breathing. Long moments passed, and she’d almost convinced herself she’d imagined the whole thing when she heard it again—a faint scraping sound coming from downstairs.

  She clutched the sheet up under her chin, straining to identify the sound. Surely it was only a mouse or some other small intruder. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d heard the distinctive click of the back door latch—that someone had come inside and was moving about down in the mercantile.

  Perhaps Caleb had had trouble sleeping, too, and came back to retrieve his ledgers to work on at home. In that case, the stealthy sounds made perfect sense. He would assume she was fast asleep and be careful not to bother her.

  But what if it wasn’t Caleb? She needed to be sure.

  Melanie slipped out of bed, pulled on her wrapper, and padded barefoot to the stairs. She inched her way down step by step, peering through the gloom. The stair creaked underfoot and she froze, barely able to breathe.

  A dim glow of light flickered from inside the office, and her shoulders sagged with relief. Her assumption that Caleb had come back for his ledgers had been correct after all. She called his name softly, not wanting to startle him.

  No sooner had the word escaped her lips than the light went out. In the stillness, a floorboard creaked near the back door, and she heard the click of the latch again.

  Melanie waited, but no other sound disturbed the stillness of night. She headed back upstairs, calling herself a silly goose for being so frightened . . . and for the emptiness she felt when Caleb hadn’t responded. She had barely whispered his name, after all. He must not have heard her. It was the only thing that made sense.

  When she climbed back into bed, she pulled the covers up over her shoulders in a protective cocoon. The rain had stopped, but a steady drip-drip from the eaves continued. The gentle sound should have helped her relax, but her thoughts were a jumble. When sleep returned at last, it was interrupted throughout the night by worrisome dreams and fits of wakefulness.

  Early the next morning, when she finally accepted that more sleep would be impossible, Melanie groaned, kicked the sheets aside, and sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes. A new day was at hand, whether she’d gotten the sleep she needed or not. A faint glimmer of light filtered in through the bedroom curtain, but it was not yet enough for her to read by, so she lit her bedside lamp, then reached for her Bible and pulled it onto her lap.

  “‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.’�
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  Melanie continued on, reading the rest of the psalm. When finished, she closed the book and ran her fingers over the worn leather cover, drawing comfort from the verses. She set the Bible back on her bedside table and crossed over to the window. A rosy pearl hue tinged the sky. In a few minutes the rising sun would offer a spectacular view of the hills surrounding Cedar Ridge.

  Why not be part of that scene, instead of observing from the window? She grinned as the thought took root in her mind. She could enjoy a brisk walk in the crisp morning air and still have plenty of time for her morning routine when she got back.

  Donning her blue paisley dress and pinning her chestnut hair into its customary coil, she grabbed a light shawl and made her way downstairs. Halfway between the bottom step and the counter, she felt something crunch under her foot.

  Melanie pulled up short. What had she stepped on? She peered at the wooden planks in the dim light and rubbed her foot back and forth across the spot. The action produced a grating sound, as if coarse sand had been sprinkled across the floorboards.

  Frowning, she walked behind the counter, where they kept a lantern hanging on the wall. She lifted it from its hook and fumbled for a match. A moment later, the wick glowed bright, and she held the lantern high while she retraced her steps.

  Her breath caught when she saw shards of china scattered across the floor. Dropping to her knees, she picked up one of the larger fragments. Her throat tightened when she recognized the delicate pink pattern of the teacup she had set out on the storeroom shelf to taunt Caleb.

  Tears sprang to her eyes at the loss of the lovely piece. She studied the remnants again. There were a few large chunks, but most of the teacup had been ground into a fine powder, as if crushed under an angry bootheel.

  A burning sensation rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard. Who could have done such a thing, and why hadn’t she noticed the mess when she was locking up the evening before?

  She retrieved the broom and dustpan from the storeroom and swept up the remains of the china. While she worked, a thought struck her. Did this have something to do with the noises she’d heard during the night?