Chapter 6

Made it through the night. Angus grunted as he turned over. The early morning sun peeked into the back window. Angus pulled himself out of bed in the storage room where he had spent the night—the long, pain-filled night. And now with his house gone, he would be spending more nights here. But only until a new house could be built. And he planned to start that soon. Well, as soon as he figured out the floor plan for that house

He let out a little groan as he remembered the loss of all his friends—the books that had been read and treasured since he was a sick little boy, books that had been his companions while his brothers worked on the farm or fished in the late afternoon. Friends that had encouraged him to write stories of his own. Well, he’d build a new house and fill it with new friends, as well as some of the old ones in new suits. He chuckled as he thought of the coverings of books as suits.

After struggling with washing up and shaving, then into his clothes, Angus used his crutch to hobble into the front part of the mercantile. At the cracker barrel, he grabbed a handful of crackers and shoved them into his mouth. Why hadn’t he asked Kerr to get him some breakfast at the café before he went to escort Mrs. Meier to the mercantile?

Next, he shuffled over to the pickle barrel and stared at it in silence, then shook his head. While the crackers could plug the empty hole in his stomach, the thought of pickles this early in the morning was revolting.

His head twisted sideways as a key rattled in the front door lock. Thank goodness, Kerr had come and hopefully brought him breakfast, even if it was some of Mrs. Stroebel’s dense coffee cake from the boardinghouse where Kerr now lived. Anything would be better than dry crackers and pickle juice.

As the door opened and the bell jingled, the fragrance of bacon, biscuits, and eggs announced the appearance of …Mrs. Meier. How did she get a key?

He dropped onto the chair that still sat by the small table where they had eaten yesterday.

After setting down a basket on the table, she untied her bonnet and took it off, then smiled at him. “Good morning. The sheriff had to go to the jail on some business or other and asked me to get your breakfast at the café. He said to tell you he’d see you later today.”

Angus waited to see if she would sit and share the food in the basket with him, but she turned and grabbed the coffee pot from the stove. He shrugged and pulled the cover from the basket. Only one plate of breakfast. Ah, but there were two pieces of pie on top of a pot of something. A frown tugged at his lips. Was his brother trying his hand at matchmaking? When Kerr came in later—

The filled coffee pot clanged on the top of the stove. “What’s the matter? The lady at the café said this is what you get whenever you come in for breakfast.”

Angus snapped up his fork and stabbed the pile of potatoes. He felt her eyes on him and looked up.

She was staring at him, but her lips twitched. “I’ll stay still if you’re going to pray.”

He would have slapped himself in the head if his good arm wasn’t bound up like a mummy he had read about in a book once. Instead, he dropped his chin to his chest and mumbled a short prayer. Nothing he’d repeat again. Actually, he couldn’t even remember what he had just prayed. With the plan to get some quiet time in the back room later and talk to God, he lifted his head and shoved food into his mouth, without ever sneaking a peek at the woman standing by the stove.

Miz Lena’s—when had he started thinking of her as Lena instead of Mrs. Meier—boots tapped on the wooden floor as she crossed over to the counter and picked up the feather duster. “I brought some stew from last night. There’s enough for both of us for lunch.”

Angus dropped his fork. It clattered against the tin plate. He glanced at her while he swallowed hard in his suddenly dry throat. “What?”

Her cheeks grew rosy as her fingers fidgeted with the duster. “I mean, since you bought lunch yesterday, I thought it only right that I repay your kindness.”

Stubborn woman. He nodded his head slowly. “Lunch is part of your wages. We’ll have your stew today. But from now on, you will get a meal from Lottie’s for lunch. What you do with it is your business. But you don’t need to bring anything for meals as repayment.”

She nodded, then turned around and started dusting the shelves on the wall.

With her back to him, he felt he could breathe again. As quick as he could, he scraped his plate clean and hobbled out of the room, jerking the curtain separating the front part of the store from the back room, separating him from her. He needed to spend some private time with God before he faced that woman, the one with the sweet smile and the rosy cheeks.

Lena knew the moment Ang—Mr. MacPherson left the room. She didn’t need to hear his crutch tapping as he moved. She felt the loss of him once he was out of sight. Giving herself a shake, at least in her mind, she gripped the duster tighter went back to work. She shouldn’t be even thinking about another man, not while she was in mourning for her dead husband and was probably being hunted by her brother-in-law. She just prayed that Ol’ Tupper was able to hide their trail well enough that Jed wouldn’t know which way she and her sons had gone.

A little while later, the business day started as the customers came in, some to buy and some to trade eggs, butter, and milk. Several times Lena had to pull back the curtain a bit and ask Mr. MacPherson the price or location for something.

During a lull in business late mid-morning, the sheriff and a younger man walked in. The sheriff looked around. “Where’s Angus?”

Lena slid the account book back under the counter. “He’s in the back room. Do you want me to get him for you?”

The sheriff shrugged and shook his head. “It’s you we came to see.”

Lena’s stomach took a tumble. Had her father-in-law tracked her down already? Had the sheriff come to arrest her for something?”

“This is our youngest brother Artair, but everyone calls him ‘Art.’” The sheriff nodded toward the other man. “He’s here to see if you will help him draw either of the outlaws that attacked Angus.”

The younger man removed his hat and bowed slightly before her. He had a pad under his arm and a pencil in his hand. His eyes twinkled as he grinned at her. “It is my honor to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Meier, and to thank you for any assistance you bestowed on my worthless, older brother. Although, I would assure you that our family would miss him quite dreadfully if anything were to happen to him.”

Lena struggled not to laugh at the young man’s outlandish behavior.

The sheriff cuffed his brother on the shoulder, almost knocking the pad from under his arm. “Art, you’re a farmer, not some actor on the stage.”

Art shook his head. “Work, work, work. That’s all I do.” He looked around the store. “If you have the time, this will only take a few minutes.” He pointed to the table by the stove. “Why don’t we have a seat here?”

The sheriff tapped the brim of his hat with one finger as Lena sat on one of the chairs. “I’ll be back later.” He left, leaving her with the young man and Angus somewhere in the back room.

For a moment, she wondered why Angus hadn’t come out, but then the young man drew her attention to what he had come to do.

After about an hour or so, and in-between taking care of customers, Lena let out a sigh. “That’s the best I can remember about both of them. I only saw their faces for a couple of minutes.”

The young man closed his pad and tucked the pencil into the front pocket of his overalls. “You’ve done fine, ma’am. I think we have good pictures we can circulate around to other towns. I appreciate your patience.” He stood and grabbed his hat. “I’ll take this over to Kerr. Then I’d best be getting back to the farm. Good-bye, ma’am. Nice to meet you.”

After the man left, Lena looked around. There were no customers in the mercantile. She looked at the large clock on one of the walls. It was almost noon. She took the two pieces of pie out of her basket then pulled out the pot and set it on the stove. Once the stew was warming, she set the table with a couple of bowls she had seen the day before under the counter.

Next was the coffee. When everything was on the table, she stepped over to the back room and knocked on the wall near the curtained-off area. “Mr. MacPherson, lunch is ready.” No response. She knocked harder. “Mr. MacPherson, can you hear me.” Still no response.

She pulled back the curtain and peeked in. Mr. MacPherson sat on an upturned metal bucket with his back against the wall, his chin resting on his chest, his uninjured arm hanging down at his side, and his bad leg propped up on another bucket. He snuffled and shifted slightly. She feared he would fall off his perch and hurt himself even worse.

After hesitating for a moment or two, she slipped into the storeroom. When she got beside the man, she bent closer to his ear and dropped her voice so she wouldn’t startle him. As her first word came out, his eyes popped open, unfocused and searching.

She jerked back.

He looked like he was losing his balance and starting to fall.

She reached out to steady him but got caught in his flailing arm. And they both ended up on the floor, intertwined. For a moment, she rested against him. For a moment, she felt strength surround her.

“Little brother, can’t I leave you alone for even a few hours without you getting yourself banged up again.”

Lena jerked away and stood, pulling her skirt this way and that. Angus lay on the floor groaning and twisting. She turned around and spied the sheriff leaning against the side of the opening, holding the curtain to one side.

He tipped his hat in her direction. “Ma’am, I think you need to be checking on the stew that smells mighty good out here.

Horrified to be caught in such a compromising position, Lena slapped her palms over her hot cheeks and ran out of the room, but she could hear the snickering and groaning all the way to the stove. She had to get away for a few minutes.

By the time the sheriff helped Mr. MacPherson to the table, Lena had served up the stew, set the pie on the table, and poured the coffee. She stood by the front door with her reticle around her wrist and her bonnet on her head.

“Since you’re here, sheriff, I need to step out for a little bit. I’ll be back soon.” She dashed out of the store before either of the men could say a word.

She needed to spend a few minutes by herself. No not by herself. She needed to spend a few minutes with God. Hopefully, He could help her understand her feelings.