“Jericho, I’m so sorry about the carriage.” She spoke before he could escape from the room. “As soon as I’m able, I’ll make payments to cover the repairs.”
He spun around and glared at her. “Do you think I care about a stupid buggy when you nearly lost your life today? The thing can sit on that bridge and rot as far as I’m concerned.” He stormed out of the room, mumbling something to his sister about a cot at the livery.
Hannah just sat and stared, more confused than ever. “I didn’t mean to make him angry.”
“Don’t mind him,” Cordelia said. “J.T.’s never been one to accept gratitude from others with much grace. I think your comparing him to an angel got him flustered. As for the rest . . . ?” She stood and fussed with the blankets, smoothing out wrinkles and tugging the edges flat. “You gave him quite a scare today. I don’t think he’s completely recovered yet. He’s just a little testy from all the excitement.”
Cordelia helped Hannah lie down, taking out the extra pillows. “Rest now,” she said. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Hannah complied, and when she drifted into slumber, she dreamed of Jericho—smiling.
CHAPTER 24
Hannah moved back to her own quarters the following afternoon, and by Saturday she was ready to resume her routine. She’d urged Cordelia to exercise without her yesterday, but the girl refused to leave her side. Now that she’d had two full nights of sleep and more rest than she could stand during the day, Hannah planned to eradicate Cordelia’s excuse for abandoning her calisthenics. She was still a bit sore and prone to headaches, but Hannah couldn’t let her friend down. Founders’ Day was only two weeks away. They couldn’t stop now.
She stepped into her loose-fitting gymnastic costume and laced up her low-heeled boots. Glancing at her reflection in the small mirror above the crate that held her pitcher and basin, she frowned. Her sleeping braid hung down her back, and frizzy wisps of hair stood out around her head. Most mornings, she flattened the worst of the fluff with a lick to her fingers and a tuck behind her ears before heading out for her constitutional, but today that didn’t seem sufficient. What if she ran into Jericho?
Her heart stuttered as she remembered his smile and the husky quality of his voice as he spoke to her when she first awakened. She hadn’t seen much of him yesterday, but he had come home for the noon meal and sat with her while Cordelia made her lunch delivery to the telegraph office.
He told her about how he and Tom had gotten the buggy back on its wheels and dragged it to the wagon shed. She told him about Ezra’s rheumatism and the whittled hummingbird. Teasing her about the way that bird had stabbed him repeatedly in the chest, Jericho returned her purse. Then he sheepishly admitted to slinging her over his saddle like a bounty hunter’s prize and laughed over the justice the hummingbird had doled out on her behalf.
It had been the most delightful hour she’d ever spent in his company. They hadn’t argued once.
Hannah undid her braid, dampened the flyaway ends around her face, and brushed the wavy tresses until they shone. Not wanting Cordelia to suspect she had put any extra effort into her appearance, she refashioned her hair into the normal braid that hung just short of her waist. Only this one was tidier.
With a giddy flutter in her stomach at the thought of possibly seeing Jericho, Hannah opened her door . . . and gasped. Two large shadows loomed on her landing. It took her startled brain several seconds to recognize that the shapes resembled furniture more than crouching villains. Sagging against the doorframe in relief, she tried to puzzle out how a pair of oak dining chairs had come to be on her staircase.
“You planning on turning that landing into a sittin’ porch?”
Hannah stretched her head over the side rail to see Louisa walking to the water pump between their buildings.
“Seems a bit tight for gettin’ in an out o’ your door, if you ask me.” The laundress winked as she set her bucket under the spout.
“Did you see who left these here? I’ve no idea where they came from.”
Louisa abandoned her bucket and moved closer to the staircase, examining the chairs through an upturned squint. “They look decent. Maybe a friend left ’em. Someone who knows you’re a little short on furniture.”
Hannah glanced back into her room, blushing a little at the humble trunk benches and makeshift table that adorned her home. She really could use some chairs, but who would know that?
“So you didn’t see who it was?” Hannah wedged herself between the chairs and the railing, cupping her hand around the top of the slender rod that formed the outer edge of the seat back closest to her.
“Nope,” Louisa answered, retracing her steps to the pump. She offered no further clues as she turned her attention to working the handle.
Hannah sighed. Not knowing the giver’s identity was going to drive her batty. She scoured her mind for names of people who could possibly know of her need for chairs. Jericho and Tom had helped her move in. Cordelia, of course. Danny came in whenever he delivered her wood. Neither Jericho nor Cordelia would’ve said anything to anyone, but Tom or Danny, in their innocence, could have jabbered about it. It was possible that she mentioned something about her accommodations to Ezra during one of their morning chats, but she didn’t remember anything specific. With his woodworking skills and soft heart, he would be a logical benefactor, but living so far from town would make it nearly impossible to deliver goods in the middle of the night, especially with his rheumatism.
She searched the empty street below for anyone who might be watching, but as usual, no one was about so early in the morning. At least no one she could see. Unable to solve the riddle, she relegated it to the back of her mind and carried the chairs inside.
They really were quite lovely. A floral pattern was carved into the back of each one and five thin spindles connected that piece to the slat at the back of the cane seat. The legs stood secure against the floor. No wobbles. She placed the chairs at different spots around her plank table until finally deciding to position them kitty-corner, facing the windows.
It looked cozy. Intimate. An image of Jericho sitting there rose to greet her. Him holding her hand or sharing a piece of pie off her plate. That deep voice whispering private messages in her ear. A brush of his lips across hers.
A tardy rooster crowed outside, shattering Hannah’s daydream. She jumped and scurried out the door. Cordelia would worry about her if she didn’t show up soon.
As she passed the livery, a movement in the office window caught her eye. Jericho was already there. Hannah tamped down her disappointment. It wasn’t as if this visit would be her only chance to see him. He’d be at church tomorrow. And maybe she could make him another batch of biscuits or something—a thank-you-for-fishing-me-out-ofthe-river gift. A groan vibrated in her throat at the idiotic idea.
Why was it she could give Cordelia advice on securing a man when she didn’t have the first idea how to manage the task for herself? Maybe she should just concentrate on being a seamstress and making her shop a success. That had always been her dream.
Yet her dream was shifting. She could feel it. Jericho was weaving his way into its very fabric, and she feared that without him, the whole thing would tear to shreds.
Hannah shook off the dismal thought as she approached the Tucker home. Cordelia rose from her seat in a front porch rocker.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming today,” she said. “Have you recovered enough?”
“I’m ready to find out.” Hannah grinned and motioned Cordelia forward. She hiked past the house without stopping, forcing Cordelia to trot to catch up. “I’ll waste away if I spend any more time abed. It feels good to be up and moving again.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Cordelia said as she came abreast of Hannah.
“Me too.”
They strode together in comfortable silence as they made their way toward the schoolhouse. Hannah usually enjoyed the quiet companionship of their walks, but today quest
ions about her mysterious gift kept bobbing to the surface and irritating her like a host of mosquito bites that begged to be scratched.
“Do you happen to know anything about a pair of dining chairs that appeared on my landing this morning?”
Cordelia turned a startled face to her. “Someone put chairs on your landing?”
“Yes.” Hannah leaned forward as the road began to steepen. “And what I can’t figure out is how this mystery person discovered that I needed them.” She looked sideways at her friend. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
Cordelia shook her head. “Of course not.”
Disappointed not to have learned anything new, Hannah let the conversation lull as they climbed the hill. Then, as they arrived at the top of the hill a moment later, they stopped to catch their breath.
Cordelia bent forward and braced her hands above her knees. She tilted her head and ventured into a new topic. “I had a novel experience at Hawkins’s store after I left you yesterday afternoon.”
“Oh?”
“A man offered to tote my basket for me,” Cordelia said, her eyes glowing with coquettish glee. She straightened and Hannah gestured for them to resume their walk.
“Who was it?” Hannah asked, accelerating the pace now that they were back on flat ground.
“I have no idea.” She giggled. “He must have been a rail passenger or some other traveler. But he made such a fuss over me. I’ve never experienced the like. He followed me around the store, asking question after question,” she said between winded exhalations. “He prattled on about the weather, the town, whatever merchandise happened to be near. It was quite endearing. Although I can’t imagine why he didn’t tire of me immediately. I was so surprised by his attentions, I could barely string two words together.”
“A genuine flirtation! How marvelous.” Hannah patted Cordelia’s shoulder briefly and returned to her arm-pumping rhythm. “Men are noticing you. That’s very encouraging.”
“Well, it might have been even better, except Warren scared the poor fellow off.”
That young man was becoming a thorn in their sides. Cordelia claimed him as a friend, yet he seemed to go out of his way to discourage her from improving herself. First, he made disparaging comments about her hair. Then, aware of her weakness for sweets, he plied her with free penny candy whenever she went in the store, even when she tried to refuse. And each time Hannah encountered him, he glared at her with such animosity, her skin crawled.
Hannah suppressed a shiver. “What did he do?” she asked as she steered them back toward town.
“He swooped in like some kind of avenger and told the man to stop bothering me. Then he glowered at him until he left. It was humiliating.” She speared Hannah with a look that clearly communicated her irritation over yesterday’s events. “J.T.’s bad enough. I don’t need another man playing big brother for me.”
Hannah doubted Warren would take kindly to the brother comparison. His actions better fit those of a jealous suitor than a protective sibling. But she kept that observation to herself.
“Did you say anything to him about it?”
“I sure did.” Cordelia set off down the hill, her boots slamming into the earth with increasing aggravation. “As soon as the gentleman left, I took Warren to task for his rude behavior.”
“I hope he apologized.”
“No. Just the opposite.” Cordelia marched on like a soldier who couldn’t wait to tear into the enemy. “He started lecturing me on decorum! Can you believe it?”
Hannah didn’t reply.
“He warned me not to encourage such men’s attentions and said he disliked the changes I was making to my appearance and manner. He made some ridiculous accusation about you being a bad influence on me and predicted that if I continued following your advice, I would end up with a man who only cared about my looks, not one who appreciated me as a person. Made me so mad, I left without collecting my bread money.”
Hannah’s own ire piqued at the man’s audacity. How dare he call her a bad influence? She wanted nothing more than Cordelia’s happiness.
Yet a niggling truth poked at her beneath the cloak of her affront.
“As much as I hate to admit it,” Hannah said, “there is a bit of wisdom in what he said.”
Cordelia stopped in the middle of the road. “What?”
Hannah clasped her friend’s elbow and urged her forward. “Keep walking.” Once Cordelia was matching her stride again, Hannah continued. “There are many men in this world whose affections never run any deeper than physical attraction. I can’t tell you how many society wives I’ve sewed for who were desperate to recapture their youth because their husbands had lost interest in them. A lasting relationship requires an abiding friendship, godly commitment, and an unselfish love that truly makes a couple one.”
“But you know I’ve already given my heart to Ike.”
“I know. And I’m sure he’s not the sort of man to care only about a pretty face. However, we are hoping to turn his head by altering your physical appearance. If we are successful, you must pray for discernment to determine whether or not his interest develops into something that penetrates that surface we created. Because if it doesn’t, he is not the man for you.”
Cordelia said nothing, and Hannah walked several yards in silence. “Your brother said the same thing to me, and he was right about that part of it,” she finally said. “Beauty is superficial, and a relationship built on such a shallow foundation cannot last.”
Hannah peered at her friend, but Cordelia’s eyes remained focused on the ground in front of her. Judging it best to let her think without interruption, Hannah said nothing further. However, in the resulting quiet, her own mind drifted . . . to Jericho.
Where Cordelia longed to have Ike notice her as a woman, Hannah longed for Jericho to appreciate her inner qualities. He was already physically attracted to her. She’d seen that. As well as the fact that he fought his attraction more vigorously than a cattleman fighting a prairie fire. If only he would trust her enough to allow one of those sparks to ignite his heart, she’d prove her faithfulness, remaining loyal to him all her days. She’d love him passionately and be the mother to his children that he’d never had for himself. She’d tease him and fill his days with laughter until that elusive smile became a permanent fixture on his face. If he ever gave her the chance.
Deep in thought, both women trudged on until they reached the house. There, out of habit more than conscious choice, they went inside and quenched their thirst.
Sitting in the kitchen, Cordelia refilled Hannah’s glass from a ceramic water pitcher in the center of the table, then turned and met her gaze. “I want to continue with our plan.”
Hannah waited.
“I’m in love with him. I can’t give up.” Cordelia stood and spun away to stare out the window. After a moment, she pivoted, her hands gripping the back of the chair. “I won’t settle for superficial. If that’s all he can offer me, I’ll let him go. But what if there could be more?” She clenched her fist and pounded it against her breast. “What if he does notice me, and that leads to an attraction, and that attraction leads to love? I can’t forfeit the chance. I have to try.”
Cordelia’s passion enlivened the hope that had been flagging in Hannah’s heart. Eyes moist, Hannah rose and circled the table. She wrapped an arm around her friend and hugged her close.
“We’ll keep pressing on, then.” Hannah rested her head against Cordelia’s temple and silently vowed to do everything in her power to help the young woman gain her dream. And if the Lord proved merciful, perhaps she’d realize her own in the process.
CHAPTER 25
J.T. raised his gaze to the roof of the meetinghouse and clenched his jaw. He appreciated a good sermon as much as the next fellow, but as a nondrinking man, today’s treatise on the evils of drunkenness had grown tedious after five minutes. J.T. changed positions in his seat, twisting slightly toward the center.
He could almost see her out o
f the corner of his eye. Two rows back, across the aisle. Sitting next to Ezra.
She’d worn that pretty blue dress, the same one she’d had on the day he’d met her at the depot, the one that made her eyes look like moonlit ponds. Crossing his arms over his chest, he ran his hand across the pocket of his shirt. The crinkle of paper as he brushed past afforded him a momentary satisfaction. Hannah had slipped him the note when he’d helped her out of Ezra’s buggy prior to services. Her gaze had sought his, and he’d known that whatever was written on the note was important to her and that she trusted him with it. He’d nodded to her, giving wordless assurance that he would take care of it. Whatever it was.
A self-deprecating smirk tugged at his cheek. If she had asked him to chop down a forest to make her a meadow, he probably would have gone home to fetch an ax. But, of course, she hadn’t. She demanded no grand gesture of devotion from him. Just a simple act of kindness springing from her compassionate nature—a nature he had once thought shallow and frivolous. What idiocy.
He’d remained outside with the horses, wanting to ensure his privacy before opening the note. Once all the latecomers were safely inside, he ducked behind a wagon and unfolded the half sheet of paper, heart pounding. Her tidy script looped and curled in lovely patterns, fitting for one so enamored with creating beautiful things. Yet as he read, an odd disappointment filled him. The words were friendly but less personal than he had hoped. Which was absurd. Why should he expect the note to contain an impassioned declaration of her feelings when he’d never given her any reason to develop such affection? Nevertheless, he reread the thing a half dozen times, just because she’d written it.