Six

When Frank finished bathing and dressing, he went to Braxton’s Mercantile. He was pleasantly surprised to see all the merchandise the store had to offer. He had been in a lot of businesses scattered all across the country. This establishment would compare favorably with many in large cities like Chicago. He hadn’t thought he would find such an assortment of high-quality goods tucked away here in the heart of Minnesota. Frank browsed through the sundries and picked up some scented coal tar soap. He held the paper wrapping to his nose to check the fragrance. It had a nice, masculine aroma, and coal tar soap was easy on the skin. Sitting on the shelf alongside the bath soap was an assortment of shaving bars and brushes. The brush he had been using was wearing out, so he chose one with bristles that didn’t seem too soft or too stiff. Since no one else was nearby, he tested it by swirling it against his cheek. It felt good, so he added it and two bars of shaving soap to the things he was carrying and headed toward the counter at the back of the store.

At that point, Frank realized that several other people were shopping in the large establishment. He could feel their eyes trained on him. He didn’t want to turn around and see if they were talking about him. The walk toward the man at the counter was uncomfortable. Frank didn’t like to be the center of attention, and he wondered why he hadn’t just stayed in his hotel room until everyone forgot what happened.

Frank had been talked about before, but he didn’t like it. He held his head a little higher and continued down an aisle between shelves containing an assortment of men’s clothing. Perhaps it was time to replenish his wardrobe. He’d kept his possessions to a minimum while he was on the trail of the gang. How long had it been now? Frank didn’t want to think about the number of years that he had wasted chasing a phantom.

He would have to make some decision soon about what to do now. He could go and ask the Old Man for his job back, but Frank wasn’t sure that was what he wanted to do. When the talk died down, Litchfield, Minnesota, might be the place for him to settle into a normal life. If it wasn’t too late for that. And gnawing at the back of his mind were the words Gerda had blurted when she was holding the gun on him. She’d felt the same strong sense of connection he had that first time he laid eyes on her in the hotel lobby.

When he reached the counter, the man behind it smiled at him. That’s a good sign. Frank decided to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“I’m Frank Daggett.” He set the soaps and brush on the wooden structure. The man with sandy red hair and lots of freckles had blue eyes that sparkled with friendliness.

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Daggett. I’m Claude Dawson.” He reached for the merchandise Frank had laid on the counter.

“This is a real nice store you have here, Mr. Dawson.” Frank turned and perused the rest of the refreshingly clean establishment while he leaned on the counter with one arm.

“Oh, I’m not the proprietor.” The clerk shook his head. “I work for the Braxtons. Please call me Claude.”

Frank straightened away from the counter and smiled back. “All right, Claude. If someone wanted to settle in Litchfield, what is there to do here?”

Claude looked him up and down as if assessing his attributes. “Well, I’m just working to make enough money to move to California. I almost have enough saved, so you could take my place here. Or there are a couple of businesses for sale. What have you done before?”

Frank decided that maybe the sheriff was a closemouthed man if word of what happened hadn’t even reached the clerk in the store. “I’ve been in law enforcement, but I want to settle down. I like the looks of the town.”

“Claude, did you receive my shipment from Boston?” The feminine voice sounded from across the room, but it was coming closer. “I need it as soon as. . .”

As the melodious words stopped abruptly, Frank turned and smiled. “Hello, Gerda.”

❧

When had that lawman come into the store? Gerda felt flustered. She probably hadn’t recognized him because he had cleaned up since their infamous encounter earlier that morning. She couldn’t keep from staring into his blue eyes. The clear, icy color had turned warm in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his eyes. Animal magnetism. That’s what that man had. Where had she heard that term? Probably in one of those dime novels she had been reading since Anna had moved out of the apartment. The man’s body was sleek, like a cougar, all sinews and strength.

Gerda could feel heat make its way up her neck and into her cheeks. She couldn’t just stand here and gawk at the man. Why was he still here? Didn’t the sheriff tell him what had happened?

“No.” Claude’s voice penetrated the fog in Gerda’s brain. “The freight wagon hasn’t come from the station yet. I’m not even sure if the train has arrived. Maybe it’s behind schedule.”

I have to get out of here. “Thank you, Claude.” She wheeled and hurried back to her own store. All the way, she could feel the cowboy’s gaze on her back. When she arrived in the workroom, she leaned against the wall and tried to catch her breath. Why didn’t the man just leave town? There wasn’t anything here for him. She fanned her face with her hand then pressed it to her chest to try to slow her racing heartbeat. If he left right now, it wouldn’t be too soon for her.

❧

Gerda. Frank rolled her name around in his head as he headed to his hotel room with his purchases from the mercantile. Gerda Nilsson. A name that fit her Nordic beauty. If he were to settle here, maybe he could build a relationship with her. Of course, it might not be a good idea. He had experienced so much of the hard side of life, and seen even more, that he wasn’t sure he was fit to establish a relationship with a woman like her. She was the kind of woman he had dreamed about all his life, but now that he had met her, he didn’t feel worthy.

Frank couldn’t stay cooped up in this hotel room, even if it was a nice, large one. He put on his Stetson and stepped out on the boardwalk. He had only seen this end of town and the street down to the livery. If he explored more, maybe he could work off some of his nervous energy.

When he walked by the sheriff’s office, the man stepped out the door. After giving Frank an appraising glance, he commented, “You clean up real nice. I would hardly recognize you as the man who came into my office earlier today.”

Frank liked the man’s wry humor. During their previous discussion, Frank had come to appreciate the older man’s thoroughness in dealing with hard topics. “I couldn’t go around town looking like I’d been on a cattle drive.”

Sheriff Bartlett stepped back a little and gestured toward the interior of the building. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? I keep a pot on the stove. Of course, it won’t be as good as you get in the hotel, but it’s hot and black.”

Frank followed him into the dimly lit room. The sheriff took a clean mug from the shelf on the wall near the stove. After pouring the steaming brew, he handed the white cup to Frank. He took a quick taste. It wasn’t bad at all.

“So what are you going to do now?” the sheriff asked after he set his own cup on the desk. “Go back into the marshal service?” Bartlett sat in the chair behind his desk and crossed his booted ankles on top of the desk. He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back, looking Frank straight in the eyes.

Frank dropped into a chair that sat near an open jail cell. “I’ve considered it.”

“You shouldn’t have any problem getting back on. Good men are hard to find, and you are persistent,” the sheriff added with a chuckle.

Frank glanced out the open door at a wagon that was coming down the street. A man and woman sat on the seat, and several children dangled their legs off the back. “I’ve been thinking about settling down. I was planning on walking around town. From what I’ve seen of it, Litchfield might be a good town to settle in.”

“Yep,” the sheriff agreed. “Most of the time, it is. We don’t often have events like the Le Blanc incident.” The man dropped his feet back onto the floor with a thud. “How about if I walk along with you? I could give you a personal guided tour.”

Frank took a big swig of the cooling beverage and looked down into the nearly empty mug. “You got some place where I can rinse this out?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Bartlett rose and reached for his hat. “The deputy will take the cups home, and his wife will wash them with her dishes.” He led the way out the door.

The sheriff took Frank down the street in the direction he had already been. The lawman introduced him to all of the proprietors along the way.

Soon they arrived at the barbershop. “I really could use a trim.” Frank reached up, removed his hat, and pushed some curls off his forehead. Why had he forgotten his hat?

“Let’s go in and chat awhile with Silas.” Frank followed the sheriff as he stepped through the doorway. “I’ve brought you a customer,” he said to the man behind the chair.

“Just have a seat over there.” The barber pointed with his scissors, then he went back to snipping and talking to the man sitting in front of him.

By the time Silas was finished cutting Frank’s hair, Frank knew more than he really wanted to know about most of the people in town. What was it about barbers that they liked to talk so much?

“Would you like to go into the saloon?” Sheriff Bartlett asked when they were back out on the sidewalk. “They serve lunch there, and there aren’t too many people drinking at this time of day.”

Frank followed him through the swinging doors. It had been quite awhile since he had stepped in a saloon. He had forgotten how they smelled. No matter how much they cleaned up a bar, they couldn’t get the smell of liquor and tobacco smoke out of the wood. Frank used to like to drink, but he hadn’t had time while he was following Le Blanc. He had needed all his wits about him in case he ever found the scoundrel.

A barmaid dressed in red satin brought a bowl of stew and some corn bread to the two men after they were seated at a round table. She smiled at Frank and leaned over farther than was necessary when she set his food down. Maybe he had been feasting his eyes on pure women long enough that she seemed tawdry and pitiful to him. He turned his attention to his companion, and the woman walked away in a huff. If Frank decided to settle down here, he knew he wouldn’t be frequenting this establishment. He started eating quickly, because he wanted the meal over as soon as possible. The sheriff was eating pretty fast, too.

❧

Once Gerda got her heartbeat to settle down, she decided to close the shop. Anna wasn’t coming today, and Gerda had to eat lunch. She went upstairs and pulled out the bread she had made two days before. It didn’t look that inviting, but she had to eat something. While she scrambled some eggs, she grilled two pieces of bread in a buttered skillet. Some days she went to the hotel to keep from having to cook for one. August had taken her to the boardinghouse to eat with him several times, too. But today she didn’t want to be around other people. Too many things had happened to upset her. For a day that had started with so much promise, it really had deteriorated quickly. The bright part of the day had been spending time with Marissa and Clarissa.

It was wonderful that the sisters were going to have babies. However, that thought brought a sharp pain to Gerda’s heart. The pain was followed by the image of the cowboy talking to Claude in the store downstairs. Every detail of how he looked was vivid in her mind’s eye. He was no longer dressed like a trail bum. He was even more devastatingly handsome dressed in nice clothes, although curls still fell across his broad forehead, almost reaching his eyes. What was there about him that was different from the other men she had known? They all paled in comparison to his good looks. But looks weren’t everything.

After choking down the last of her eggs and toasted bread, Gerda went into the parlor and picked up her Bible. She clutched it to her chest and dropped her chin against it. “Father God, please help me. Please tell me that You have a man picked out for me. I have been patient, but now my desire for a husband and family has brought temptation into my life. I feel undeniably drawn to an unacceptable man. God, please take away the temptation. Father, it would be a blessing if the man would just leave town today. Help me be strong. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Gerda knew that God heard her, but the prayer seemed to hang in the air around her. She sighed. When she opened her Bible, it fell open to the sixth chapter of Second Corinthians. Soon, verses 14 through 18 jumped out at her.

Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness? and what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel? and what agreement hath the temple of God with idols? for ye are the temple of the living God; as God hath said, I will dwell in them, and walk in them; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.

Gerda knew she should not feel drawn to that man. For some reason, she was sure he was not a Christian. She knew that when God brought a man into her life for her to marry, he wouldn’t be an unbeliever. She had to fight this strong attraction she felt for the former lawman.

After sitting there for a few more minutes, Gerda put her Bible on the table beside her rocking chair. She stepped out on the platform at the top of the stairs and turned around to lock her door. As she turned and glanced down the street, she saw the man she had been thinking about come out of the saloon. It must be a sign from God. He must be showing me that the man is not a godly man. With a firm nod of her head, she walked down the stairs to open the shop.

❧

When Frank stepped through the swinging doors of the saloon after he and the sheriff had finished their meals, his gaze was drawn to the staircase that led up the side of the mercantile building. Gerda Nilsson stood on the platform at the top, and she was looking his direction. Why had he agreed to go into the saloon with the sheriff? Instinctively he knew she would not like the fact that he was there. It would probably be a setback that would be hard to overcome in his pursuit of the woman of his dreams.

“If you were to settle here, what would you do?” The sheriff’s question drew Frank’s attention from his thoughts.

“I don’t have to go to work immediately. I’ve saved most of the money I’ve made over the years. It will give me time to look around and find just the right business to invest in.” Frank glanced once again toward the mercantile building, but Gerda was nowhere in sight.

The sheriff walked a few steps without saying anything. “There are a few possibilities. I could introduce you to the owners.”

Frank nodded. “That would be nice. And I’m going to need a place to live. Although the hotel is nice, it’s not a home.”

The sheriff seemed to be lost in thought. After a few minutes of the two men walking back through town, he finally made a suggestion. “I’ve run down the list of the houses I know to be empty. If you want a wife and family, your best bet might be Mrs. Nichols’s home.”

“Why do you say that?” Frank’s interest was piqued.

“Well, it’s pretty new, and it hasn’t been lived in very long. Would you like to see it?”

At Frank’s agreement, the sheriff led the way to the lawyer’s office where they obtained a key to the house, then he accompanied Frank across the railroad tracks and into an area that was mostly homes.

“This area is really pretty.” Frank looked at the trees whose branches stretched across the street, almost meeting. “I like all the shade.”

Sheriff Bartlett nodded. “That’s why I’ve stayed around here. I think you’ll like this house. Oliver Nichols had been a widower for several years. He didn’t have any children, so he was lonely. Everyone thought he was crazy when he advertised in several newspapers for a bride.”

“Sometimes that works, but sometimes it doesn’t,” Frank agreed. “Did he get many answers?”

The lawman turned to his right down another tree-lined street. “I don’t guess anyone knows how many he got. He didn’t share them with anyone. At least we know that a young woman from Ohio answered. They kept up quite a correspondence while Oliver had the house built for her. After it was finished, everyone in town was invited to the large wedding. It was a really happy affair.”

“So what happened?”

“They had only lived in the house a few months when Oliver died of a heart attack. His grieving widow soon returned to Ohio to live with her parents.”

“How long ago was that?” Frank wondered if the house would be in disrepair, since it had sat empty for a long time.

“It was only a little over a year ago.”

The neighborhood was dotted with mature trees that were just beginning to bud. When the sheriff stopped in front of a white wooden fence, Frank turned to look the same direction. Situated at the end of that area of town, the house, which was set back quite a ways from the street, was surrounded by a small grove of trees. Through the nearly bare branches, Frank glimpsed the second story and attic complete with gables and lots of gingerbread decorations. It was just the kind of house that needed a family.

“It doesn’t look as though it is vacant.” Frank turned toward his companion. “It’s been well taken care of.”

“The lawyer sees that it is. No one wants to buy a derelict home.”

Frank nodded. “I understand that. But why hasn’t it sold before now?”

The sheriff led the way up the stepping-stones toward the structure. “It’s more house than most new people in town want right away. And the price is a little too high for most folks. I hope that’s not a problem for you.”

“If I like it, I’m sure the price wouldn’t be a deterrent.”

After touring the home, Frank knew he was going to buy it. Whether he made any headway with Gerda Nilsson or not, he wanted to live in this house. Someday he’d fill it with a family. The two men started back down the street toward the business part of town so Frank could talk to the lawyer about the house.

“You know,” the sheriff said, “maybe the good Lord kept this house available for you. He’s been known to do things like that.”

Frank didn’t know about the “good Lord” part of the sheriff’s statement, but he was glad the house was still vacant. After conducting his business with the lawyer, Frank went to the bank to make arrangements to have his money transferred to Litchfield. Then he proceeded to the depot to send a telegram to his bank manager, who was a close family friend, back East. He told him to send the contents of his safe-deposit box in a strongbox on the train. If Frank was going to settle in Litchfield, he needed to have all his assets here.

❧

August came into the Dress Emporium just as Gerda finished giving a customer her new clothes. She went to give her brother a hug when the other woman left the shop.

“I’m glad to see you.” She stood back and looked up into his kind eyes. “Is Anna well?”

“Yes. She’s fine, just not feeling too good this morning. So she won’t be in today.”

Gerda moved behind the counter and placed the roll of brown wrapping paper back under it. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here just to tell me that. I don’t expect her until I see her coming.”

August leaned his crossed arms on the polished wood. She knew he did that so they would be closer to the same height. He must have something important to tell her.

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You can read me like a book, can’t you?” August gave a nervous laugh.

“So what is it?”

August stood away from the counter and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers, another sure sign of his nervousness. “You know how you told me that you’re saving your money to buy Mrs. Nichols’s house?”

Gerda nodded. For some reason, she knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “I almost have enough for a good down payment. Their lawyer said that I could pay part of it off monthly.”

August shuffled his feet. “You can’t now.”

“And why not?” Gerda wished he’d get to the point instead of talking around a subject.

August looked at the brightly colored fabrics that lined the shelves behind Gerda. He couldn’t even look her in the eyes. She sighed. Now she knew she wouldn’t want to hear whatever he had to say.

“Frank Daggett bought the house.”

“Frank Daggett?” Gerda realized that her question was loud and shrill, but she didn’t care. “You mean that cowboy lawman?” Maybe August was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her to buy it. Gerda crossed her arms to keep them from trembling. “How do you know that?”

August patted her on the shoulder. “I know it hurts, but it’s true. The sheriff’s horse threw a shoe, so he came into the blacksmith shop. He told me about spending the day with Frank showing him around town the other day. Frank wants to settle here, so he bought the house. All the papers are signed, and the money should be here soon.”

When August finally left, Gerda wanted to crawl into her bed, pull the quilt up over her head, and cry like a baby. Why did that man have to turn her life upside down again? She had hoped that he would leave town soon, but that wasn’t going to happen. What was she going to do now?

As if her thoughts had taken on human form, Frank Daggett walked through the front door of the Dress Emporium. Gerda stood behind the counter and glared at him while he moved around the room, fingering various items on display.

“May I help you, Mr. Daggett?”

The man looked up with eager anticipation, but his face fell when he saw the expression on hers. Gerda didn’t care if her sour look drove the man out of the store. What was he here for, anyway? The answer to that question was too much to contemplate. He must have a girlfriend. . .or a wife. Why else would he buy the house?

“Miss Nilsson.” The deep baritone voice was much too smooth. “Please call me Frank. I hope we can be friends?”

Gerda ignored the question implied by his voice. “I occasionally make clothing for my brother, who’s hard to fit, but you should be able to find things you can wear at the mercantile next door.” After this dismissal, Gerda went through the curtains that divided the store from the workroom. She leaned on the wall beside the doorway and waited until she heard the sound of his footsteps as they led to the outside door. When it closed behind the man, she let out the breath she had been holding. What was she going to do now? She had been saving so long to buy that house. She was tired of living in the apartment above the store. If God didn’t bring her someone to marry, at least she would have had a real home. But that man had interfered in her life again. Why wouldn’t he just go away and leave her alone?