Will Dupree entered Rutledge Mercantile on a sunny Saturday and clapped a hand on Miles’s shoulder. “That’s some scowl you’re wearing, my good man. What’s ailing you?”
Miles turned from the window. “Who said anything was?”
“Wouldn’t be the steady stream coming and going at Watkins General Merchandise the past two weeks, would it?”
Most days Will’s teasing didn’t bother Miles, but he wanted no part of it this morning. The widow with the warm brown eyes wouldn’t leave his thoughts. Every day but Sunday she sat at his table, took his hand, and bowed in prayer. And then he spent the next hour listening to her carry on about how well things were going.
She’d had a few good days, sure, but that wouldn’t last. Before she knew it folks would return to the mercantile, and she’d be forced to watch them fill his place. But would he be allowed to gush like she was now? No. He’d have to behave like a gentleman and keep his thoughts to himself or suffer Mother’s disapproval. Why did she encourage Mrs. Watkins anyhow?
He dipped a cloth in the furniture polish. The strong scents of linseed oil and turpentine cleared his head but didn’t lift his spirits. “Did you need something or just come to stir up trouble?”
Will held up his hands. “Whoa! She must really be getting to you.”
Miles slammed the tin on the display case and rubbed the oak top with vigor. “I haven’t the slightest interest in Mrs. Watkins or her business.”
“The fact that your place is empty, you’ve got Sammy out front washing windows, and I catch you glaring at her shop means nothing then?”
“Don’t you have crops to tend?”
Will propped his elbows on a nearby case, leaned back, and surveyed the mercantile. “Seems to me having a woman like her around here could be good for business. The ladies would come for her fancy wares and bring their menfolk.”
“The men wouldn’t buy any more than they ever did.”
“Hank walked out of her place with a mustache cup, and Tiny bought some pricey English cologne.”
Miles froze in midswipe. “Tiny? Scent would be wasted on him. Nothing could mask the smell of his forge. It’s in his skin.”
“He’s been wanting a wife.”
The hairs on the back of Miles’s neck stood on end. “He’s interested in Mrs. Watkins?”
“She’s easy on the eyes. Hardworking, too.”
Miles slapped the cloth on the counter and jammed the lid on the polish. The thought of Tiny Briggs courting Mrs. Watkins soured his stomach. Not that he wanted her for himself. Oh no! He’d had a weak moment when he handed her the rose and spouted that line of sentimental claptrap. She’d gone doe-eyed, and he’d seen the light. Never again would he fall for a woman who used her feminine wiles to get what she wanted. He’d made that mistake with Irene, but he was older and wiser now. “She’s small. He’s a giant.”
Will chuckled. “Three times her size at least, but why do you care?”
“I don’t. I just hope he realizes she doesn’t have a biddable bone in her body.”
“That doesn’t put you off. The whole town knows she’s at your table for dinner every day.”
“Just keeping tabs on the competition.” Miles glanced across the street. Another customer leaving with a parcel and a smile. He must do something about this situation. But what?
Elenora occupied a pew in the small church the next day. She bowed her head and did her best to keep her mind on the minister’s closing prayer.
“And we thank You for this lovely spring day. Be with us as we go about our business, and keep us ever mindful of Your precepts. Amen.”
Business. Perhaps God did care about hers. She’d been doing well. Her sales had picked up. True, more was going out than coming in, but that was to be expected.
Her inheritance from Jake’s parents had seemed a great sum back in Omaha, but prices in California were higher. How quickly the first two thousand dollars had gone. She had to arrange her few goods carefully so the shop didn’t look half empty.
Mrs. Rutledge coaxed a postlude from the old pianoforte. The room filled with the buzz of many conversations.
“Mrs. Watkins.” Elenora beheld a snowy-haired woman with eagerness in her eyes. “Was that a livery wagon I saw at your place yesterday?”
Elenora nodded. “I received a shipment of women’s hats and wicker baskets.” Items that would fill several shelves, provided she left enough space between them.
“I could use a new bonnet. I’ll stop by soon, dear.” The woman excused herself.
“Mama, can I go outside with Constance?”
She corrected Tildy with a kind but firm tone. “You may, but please don’t muss your dress.”
Elenora made her way to the back of the church where Reverend Parks stood in the doorway bidding congregants farewell. Unlike her minister in Omaha, he wore no special collar or robes. Just a frock coat and bib-front shirt like Mr. Rutledge.
The minister smiled. “Mrs. Watkins, isn’t it?”
“Elenora Watkins, yes, Reverend. And the young girl with the brown braids and blue dress with Constance Dupree is my daughter, Tildy.”
“We’ve met. I gather she’s not one to remain a stranger for long.”
“She’s outgoing. She did mind her manners, didn’t she?”
“You needn’t worry.” Tildy spied him and waved. He waved back. “She complimented me on my prayers. It seems she finds mine as pleasing as those of Miles Rutledge. She said I talk to the Lord—what were her words?” He squinted. “‘Friendly-like.’”
“That sounds like Tildy. I’ve been working with her on exercising discretion in her speech, but she’s young yet.”
He chuckled. “I find her honesty refreshing. To my way of thinking, she has a better understanding of prayer than some adults. God wants us to feel free to come to Him.”
“Your sermon was interesting. I’ve never heard one like it. You have a way of making the scriptures understandable.”
“Then I’ve done what I set out to do. And I thank you for your kind words.”
Elenora warmed at his graciousness. He was far easier to talk with than her minister in Omaha. Perhaps because Mr. Parks was younger, about ten years older than Mr. Rutledge’s thirty-five, it would appear. The reverend’s russet hair held a hint of gray. “I’ve enjoyed the elders’ messages, but it’s been lovely to have you with us today. How many other churches do you serve?”
“Four in all. Most months I spend two Sundays at the main church in Placerville, one at Georgetown, and the last split between Diamond Springs and here.”
“Two services in one day?”
“Diamond Springs is only two miles east on the main road.” He held out a hand toward the Sierra Nevada Mountains, which stretched their majestic peaks to the azure sky.
“I’ve not been up the hill yet. My shop keeps me busy.”
“I hear things are going well.”
She shrugged. “For now, but that could change.”
“If you’ve given your plans to the Lord, you can rest in Him. Have faith, Mrs. Watkins.”
Mr. Rutledge approached, gave her a cursory nod, and smiled at the minister. Why did everyone else get a warm greeting while she got cold water tossed her way?
“You’ve met my competition, have you, Mr. Parks?”
Elenora couldn’t believe her ears. Mr. Rutledge might have been short with her on occasion, but she’d never seen him show disrespect toward others. “I’ve met Reverend Parks.”
“He doesn’t use the title, Mrs. Watkins.” Mr. Rutledge said it matter-of-factly, but his comment still rankled.
“Miles is right. Some people resist a man of the cloth. I learned years ago that it’s easier to build bridges when I don’t insist on formalities.”
Mr. Rutledge’s expression hadn’t changed. Apparently he’d intended to educate her, not pass judgment. “I’ve never thought of that, Mr. Parks, but I can see your point. My father made me wait on any man wearing a minister’s collar whenever one came in his shop. Pa said he didn’t want any reminders of the God who took Mama from us.”
Mr. Parks gave her such a compassionate look that her respect for him grew. “Your father didn’t share your faith?”
She shook her head and blinked to clear the sudden moisture. “Mama took me to church when I was young. After I lost her, I went by myself. I knew that’s what she’d have wanted.”
Mr. Parks directed his attention to Mr. Rutledge. “A mother’s love is a blessing. Wouldn’t you agree, my friend?”
Mr. Rutledge chuckled. “Most days, but mine has become rather meddlesome of late.”
Elenora peered at him through her lashes. How could he joke about his mother’s interference, and with the minister no less?
A smile tugged at Mr. Parks’s lips. “I heard about a surprise dealt you two. Instead of being partners, you’re competitors? But friendly ones, I trust?”
Mr. Rutledge didn’t answer. She searched for a suitable response. “We … that is to say I … don’t wish him ill. There’s business enough for the both of us, as I’ve told him.”
Mr. Parks looked from her to Mr. Rutledge and back. “El Dorado’s not a big town. I’m sure he’s feeling the effects.”
The smile on Mr. Rutledge’s face evaporated, replaced by something she had trouble identifying. “I’ll weather the storm. No doubt it’ll pass quickly.”
“Huh!” Elenora clutched her Bible to keep from forming fists. “You, Mr. Rutledge, are in for a surprise. My business is doing better every day.”
“For the time being.”
Mr. Parks spoke, his soft voice filled with concern. “I sense some friction between you.”
She let out a ragged breath. How disappointed Mama would be if she knew her daughter had lashed out in front of a minister of the Gospel. “I’m sorry. It’s just that Mr. Rutledge seems determined to discount my abilities.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him and focused on Mr. Parks instead.
“I’d say the opposite is true. If you posed no threat, would Miles be concerned?”
She ventured a gaze at Mr. Rutledge. It appeared the gentle rebuke had affected him also. He’d uncrossed his arms, and his forehead was no longer furrowed. “I’m concerned, Mrs. Watkins, but not about my business. To show you I don’t harbor ill will either, I invite you and Tildy to join us for dinner at my house. Mr. Parks will be there, along with the Duprees.”
Mr. Rutledge was concerned about her business, was he? Did he doubt her abilities that much? She had half a mind to decline his offer, but she’d enjoy visiting with Pearl, and Tildy would love to have time with Constance.
She’d just have to ignore her host as best she could.
Two hours later Tildy stood in front of Mr. Rutledge’s house and gave her friend a hug. “Good-bye, Constance.” The young girl climbed aboard the wagon, and Tildy waved until Will turned his team onto the main road and the Duprees disappeared from view. She skipped over to Elenora. “Mrs. Rutledge said Constance can visit me one day this week. I can’t wait.”
“Constance is a delightful girl. I’m sure you two will have a wonderful time.”
“They’re a fine family,” Mr. Parks said. “Will and Pearl’s wedding ceremony was the first I performed in this church. Hard to believe that was thirteen years ago, isn’t it, Miles?”
“Sure is. I’ll never forget the day Will first set eyes on Pearl. His chin hit the floor so hard I expected to see a bruise.”
Tildy sidled up to Mr. Rutledge. “Have you ever been in love?”
Elenora cringed. “Tildy, dearest, that’s a personal question.” One that produced a pained look on his face. He’d never mentioned his late wife, but he must have loved her very much. Elenora’s heart went out to him.
He rallied quickly and eased the awkward silence. “I was, once. She passed away, like your papa.”
Tildy’s face fell. “Oh, that’s sad. Do you still miss her?”
“It was a long time ago.”
Eight years from what Mrs. Rutledge had said. Why had he never remarried? Surely a handsome and successful man like Mr. Rutledge would have his pick of the eligible women. “I think it’s time we were leaving, sweetheart. We could take that walk I talked about.”
“If you’ll wait for me to gather my things,” Mr. Parks said, “I could join you two. I’m heading back to Diamond Springs. An orchardist and his mother who attend our Sunday meetings invited me to stay with them.”
“It’s kind of you to offer, but I had my heart set on a leisurely stroll through the countryside.”
“It won’t be leisurely,” Tildy muttered. “Mama doesn’t know how to slow down.”
“We’ll have a good time. You’ll see.”
Elenora thanked Mr. Rutledge for the dinner invitation, bid the minister farewell, and took Tildy’s hand. The lush green landscape beckoned. Birds called from the arms of plentiful oaks, and a breeze tossed strands of hair that had escaped Elenora’s chignon.
How could it be that a full month had gone by in which she’d not gone on a single walk or even once played her violin? The shop took most of her time. Then there were the mornings and evenings when she had to see to meals, laundry, ironing, and the many tasks Pa’s housekeeper had taken care of. Poor Tildy must feel neglected.
They’d gone but twenty feet when Mr. Parks called Elenora’s name. “Yes?”
“Since you’re unfamiliar with the terrain, Miles would like to accompany you.”
“He would?”