Love Blooms in Winter Page 13

  The old church was quite lively as festivities got into full swing. Harry Miller tuned his guitar and Miller Sands warmed up on his banjo. Tom was just wondering how much longer it would be until the storm hit when the sound of thunder rolled in the distance. He looked up to see Pauline approaching him. At least she’d discarded the bloody housecoat and replaced it with a clean dress. The tiny woman appeared to be in control of her faculties tonight. She extended her arm.

  “Shall we take a turn around the floor, sonny?”

  It was hard to believe the woman was so spry at her age. Smiling, Tom took her into his arms and swung her gently onto the dance floor. Her slight, thin frame still had a lot of life in it. Her steps matched his, faded eyes alight with pleasure.

  “Oh, how I love to dance! Didn’t think I’d ever get the chance again.”

  The lively atmosphere put a bold bounce in her step. Tom led her carefully around the other couples, his gaze searching for Mae. He’d seen her come in earlier carrying steaming dishes. Jake’s suit caught his eye, and he found a bright-eyed, flushed Mae in the lawyer’s arms. Something akin to jealousy stabbed him in the pit of his stomach. He focused instead on Pauline. “You dance well.”

  Nodding, she chuckled, “I haven’t lost it, have I?”

  “No, ma’am.” He turned her away from Jake and Mae. “You haven’t lost it.”

  “You know, son.” She sobered, her gaze suddenly focusing on Tom’s face. “I still don’t think I know you from a hole in the wall, but if you are my kin, I’m right proud of it.”

  He smiled at her and realized he may as well accept her as his aunt, even though he knew she wasn’t. It would be kind of nice to pretend he still had family. After all, he’d already decided he would make himself responsible for her financial security. “Me too. I wasn’t aware I still had kin, so I guess I should thank you. You’re a fine woman, Auntie.” God had perfect timing. He hadn’t thought he missed family until this very minute. A flush overshadowed the heavy rouge on her weathered cheeks.

  “Oh, my. You take my breath away. A man hasn’t said anything like that to me in… come to think of it, I don’t recall the last time.”

  “I can’t believe that. You’re a lovely woman, Pauline. I bet you have had your fair share of admirers.”

  “Well, yes. I’m sure I have.”

  She sighed and twirled like the fanciest-reared lady and settled back gently in his arms. Even now he could see that she was once a pretty woman. In her day she’d probably had many a suitor.

  “I was a looker, sonny boy.”

  “I just bet you were.” Pauline was in sound mind tonight, and he figured she wouldn’t want trite responses. “Time can only steal your body. It can’t touch your soul, and you’re a good soul.” Her toothless grin warmed him, and he was suddenly glad he’d come to Dwadlo.

  “Are you married, Tom?”

  “Never had the time, Aunt Pauline.”

  “I understand. You seem like a bright boy. You’ll settle down one of these days.” Her eyes fixed on Mae. “Now, there’s a good woman, but, dad gum it, she’s taken.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I know.” The music changed, slowing to a waltz. Still moving about the floor with Pauline as his partner, Tom studied Jake. The lawyer looked just like every other dandy Tom had ever seen. He was a man who liked to flaunt his social position, and Tom was well aware he could offer Mae a good life as Mrs. Jake Mallory. The stuffed shirt would probably build her the fanciest house in town, and their kids would be well-educated. And, unless he missed his guess, the attorney would try to send Jeremy off to one of the fancier institutions in the East, but he’d never achieve his goal. Tom hadn’t been in town long, but certainly long enough to know that Mae would fight Mallory tooth and nail to keep her brother with her.

  “Do you find Jake handsome?” he asked Pauline. He couldn’t judge such matters, and women’s taste in men often stumped him.

  Pauline turned her head to study the man. “Yes, he’s quite attractive. Always been good to me.” She pressed closer and whispered in Tom’s ear. “I don’t think he likes my animals, but then who does ’sides me?” Throwing back her head, she cackled.

  Grinning, Tom stifled an involuntary sneeze at the mere thought of dog and cat hair, and he moved to the sounds of the guitar and banjo, letting her laughter wash away his cares.

  The past couple of days had been rough, but thanks to a dead bull, the evening would restore the town’s mood. They would realize that the inconvenience of the accident was small. The rail would be repaired, the town wouldn’t go under, and life would go on.

  If Jake wasn’t an imbecile, he would eventually get around to asking for Mae’s hand. After a week in Dwadlo, Tom almost didn’t want to go home, but he would return to Chicago to bury himself in his new position. Work long hours. Grow old alone. He laughed to himself when he thought about this morning’s service. Maybe he would purchase a robe, butcher a bull in it, roll in the dirt, and then wear it to church. That would shake up Chicago.

  He nodded to Dale, who waltzed past gingerly holding Widow Freidman in his arms. A chuckle slipped out. Growing old. A sense of humor would help. His gaze turned to Mae and Jake again, and he watched her face flush with exertion. What would it be like to hold the woman God had waiting for him? To spend the rest of his life with his wife in his arms? Smile at her. Allow his love to seep through his gaze and saturate her like thick molasses until she openly longed for him the way he desired her.

  He hadn’t exactly been looking these past years, but he would have noticed if the right woman had crossed his path. To date he’d yet to find someone he longed to talk to, to hold. Someone he felt he couldn’t bear to be separated from… until Mae. The memory of passing years that had flown by too quickly closed around him. His aching muscles told him he wasn’t getting any younger. And to make matters worse, the only woman he wanted to court belonged to another man.

  The music stopped and his stomach growled. What he really wanted was some of that peach pie Mae had made. “Auntie, could I interest you in something to eat?”

  “Eat? Is it time to eat again? Well, land sakes, it is dark outside, so let’s head for the food.”

  He’d watched when Mae pushed the peach pie to the back, but covering it had done little good. Most of the slices were gone, but he managed to grab the last piece before Fisk got to it.

  “Sorry, my friend, but that’s my piece of pie. Peach is my favorite.”

  “I like any kind, so you can have it.”

  Tom took his first bite, and it was the best he’d ever tasted. He was savoring the sweet taste when a huge clap of thunder shook the church and folks spooked. The storm was too close. A man opened the door, and folks rushed to have a look outside. Tom set his pie down and listened while husbands called to their wives to pack up their food and get ready to leave. The music died away, and the scramble to clean up and get families home turned fast and furious.

  Squeezing his arm, Pauline pulled him down to whisper in his ear again. “I see the way you look at Mae, sonny. It’ll happen one of these days. As sure as the good Lord grows green grass, it’ll happen for you too.”

  The only answer he gave her was a smile. He ushered his newly acquired aunt to the back of the room to retrieve her untouched dish. He needed to see her safely home before the storm broke.

  Enthusiasm swept the crowd the next morning when Tom and his crew started for the work site. Fortunately, Dwadlo had escaped the worst of the weather. He was thankful the storm had dumped only a couple of inches of icy pellets. He figured folks to the north got the worse of it. Maybe the Lord did indeed have His hand on this tiny community.

  Getting ready to leave the center of town, Tom spotted Jake standing on the sidelines, watching the parade of activity, and he had no idea if the man had come to work or just to keep an eye on the situation. He tossed the lawyer a friendly invitation. “Might as well join us, Mallory. Pay’s good.” When Jake’s only response was a nod, Tom turned to follow the wo
rkers.

  What does Mae see in the man?

  When Tom noticed some dogs cheerfully moving toward the accident site, tails wagging, he mentally groaned. He broke away from the rest of the men and cut through an empty lot to bypass the animals. Halfway down the snow-covered path, he sensed eyes on his back. He paused and turned to look. Nothing but snow met his gaze. Proceeding on, he watched his left side, and sure enough he spotted a small shadow trailing his. He turned quick enough this time to see the shadow disappear into the brush.

  Scanning the thick growth, Tom didn’t detect anything stirring except for a crow cawing in an overhead tree branch.

  He walked on. The shadow reappeared, and now he heard footsteps in the snow behind him, but this time he refused to stop. Whistling, Tom parted the thicket and maneuvered through the winter landscape as though this was the exact route he wanted to take. When he came to a low overhanging branch, he grabbed it and pulled it down as he ducked beneath it. Releasing it a moment later, he grinned when he heard the expected “ow!” Now he had an idea of who was following him. He decided to make a game of it.

  He wove in and out of the brush, trying to get the culprit to make a mistake, but the intruder proved persistent, keeping a safe distance.

  The shadow fell behind far enough that Tom used the opportunity to double back and pick up the pace, and suddenly he found himself right behind the guilty party. He couldn’t help but grin at Jeremy’s wide-eyed, startled look when he realized Tom was following him.

  Mae’s brother stood in the snow holding two towel-wrapped packages, his wind-chapped cheeks flushed pink. “I didn’t mean no harm, Mr. Curtis.”

  “Why are you following me?” The boy appeared to search for words, and Tom remembered the young’un’s condition. He softened his tone. “Jeremy, did Mae send you to tell me something?”

  He shook his head, and Tom focused on the two packages in the boy’s hands. “Did she send my dinner?”

  A negative head shake again.

  He gently took the boy by the shoulders. “What is it, Jeremy? Is it Pauline? Does she need me?”

  “I want to work, like a man. I was going to fry some chickens, but cooking’s not much of a man’s job, and neither is keeping track of the dogs. I do that all the time anyway. I want to do real work.”

  “Real work?” The boy wanted to lay track. “Jeremy, I think caring for the animals is a man’s work, but I need strong, grown men to tote and carry heavy material. We’ll be handling rails and ties. I’m afraid you’d hurt yourself.”

  The child’s chin sank and it broke Tom’s heart, but he couldn’t take the chance of the boy injuring himself. Patting his shoulder, Tom gently turned him and said, “Go on back to town.” He’d like to oblige Jeremy, but he had enough worries waiting ahead.

  He resumed the short trek to the wreckage. The sounds of men’s shouts, metal clanging against metal, and wreckage being cleared broke the early morning silence. He could say one thing for the folks of Dwadlo—they weren’t afraid of hard work. He turned to check his shadow, and his heart sank when he spotted the hem of Jeremy’s yellow coat disappearing into the thicket. Mae was doing a fine job of raising him, but there were times in a boy’s life when he needed a man’s companionship. He sighed. “Come here, Jeremy.”

  The boy emerged, trailed by two dogs, and all three of them had their tails tucked between their legs.

  He motioned him closer and the boy complied. “Son.” He placed his hands on the boy’s thin shoulders again. “You’ve done a good job caring for the animals. I’m going to promote you.”

  Jeremy smiled. “Okay.”

  “The high winds make it hard to keep the lanterns lit. I need someone I can trust to make sure each light is burning and the pots are filled to the brim with oil before they leave the site.”

  Jeremy’s face fell, and Tom realized the boy was bright enough to know when he’d been offered yet another token job. His expressive eyes conveyed a man’s need, and Tom knew he would only settle for something a man could do.

  “But,” he cautioned, “this means you’ll be in charge of the kerosene. No one comes near that barrel unless you authorize it. Supplies will be scarce until the track repair is finished. Think you’re up to it?”

  A grin broke across the boy’s features. “Yes, sir!”

  “The job only pays an extra nickel a day.”

  “I’d do it for nothing.”

  Negotiation wasn’t Jeremy’s strong suit. “Can you handle the job and take care of your duties at home? Mae doesn’t need any additional work, especially now, and you can’t forget that you still work for Pauline, helping her with the animals.”

  “I can do everything,” the boy assured him.

  Tom focused on the dogs. “There are rules to working for the railroad, and one rule is you have to keep all animals off the job site. They get underfoot otherwise and in the men’s way.”

  Nodding, Jeremy accepted the duty. “They won’t bother you.”

  “Thanks, son.” Jeremy’s shoulders were now back, and he walked like a proud man with a purpose. Tom was glad he could help, even if it wasn’t much. At least the boy would benefit from the experience. The two men walked on, shadows in sync.

  Tom had to grin when he realized that Jeremy had now hoisted a pick over his shoulder. The boy must have brought the tool in hopes of getting the job.

  Fisk moved about the site, pitching great chunks of metal onto a growing pile of twisted and useless parts. His massive arms plowed through the wreckage like a fox in a henhouse. When Tom and Jeremy approached, he glanced up with a wide grin.

  “Already making a little progress, boss.”

  Tom acknowledged the work with a grin at his new appellation, but he looked up and down the site and knew they had a long way to go. “Jeremy.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “It’s time to start. Go over to the supply wagon and fill water buckets from the barrels. Everything you need should be there. Don’t forget to take a ladle with you so the men have something to drink from.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away.”

  “Oh, and do you know how to build a fire?”

  “I do, Mr. Curtis.”

  “There’s dry wood in one of those wagons. Would you build three fires for me and space them a few yards apart?”

  “I can do that. And after I get the fires built I can brew some coffee.”

  Tom was proud of the young man’s enthusiasm. “Good idea. Now, Fisk, that’s what I call a man willing to work hard to earn his pay.”

  Maybe the boy was going to be more help than he’d thought.

  Eighteen

  Tom grabbed a pick and started to work. The new job felt awkward. He should be inside an office somewhere, where it was warm and he didn’t have to use his back to make a dollar. Yet it felt good to work side by side men he admired.

  All of the new hires stayed busy, and every so often he’d see Jeremy struggle by with buckets of water or keeping the fires ablaze. The boy knew how to work hard.

  The sun was now overhead, raising the temperature to a bearable level, and even some of the snow had started melting. Tom glanced up when he saw a female rider approach. For a split second his heart experienced an odd quirk, but when he saw that the rider was Lil, his pulse slowed. She rode into camp wearing a man’s hat, coveralls, and scuffed red leather boots.

  Several men called out to her when she dismounted, and she waved them a greeting. Tom paused and watched her exchange a few short words with Fisk before turning and striding in his direction.

  “Curtis.” She reached out to pump his hand like a man would greet another man. She had a grip like a vise.

  “Nice to see you again, Lil. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m here to work.”

  “Thanks, but the women are in charge of the meals. I’m sure they’d welcome an extra hand in town.”

  “I can’t cook. I eat out of cans and jars.” Her eyes swept the wreckage.

  Tom skimmed h
er rough exterior. She was sturdy as all get-out, but a woman’s place was in the kitchen. “Now, Lil—”

  Her hands fisted, and she rested them on her hips as though she expected trouble. “Don’t go giving me this ‘woman’ talk, mister. I may be a woman, but I can outwork any man here.” She pulled on a heavy pair of gloves. “I’ll join Fisk in what he’s doing if that’s okay.”

  Leaning back against a locomotive wheel, Tom released a long breath. Well. By the determined expression on her face, he supposed it would have to be.

  It was going to be a long week.

  By midafternoon dark clouds blocked the sun and heavy sleet was falling, stinging faces. Winter wasn’t Tom’s favorite time of year even in Chicago. No matter how much a man was bundled up, the chill went straight to the bone. Everyone in Dwadlo said they hadn’t seen the likes since most could remember.

  The frigid January temperatures made it hard enough for the crew to work when it wasn’t sleeting or snowing, so Tom decided to call it a day. “Okay, boys, lets wrap it up and get out of the cold. I’m sure we’ll see enough of it over the next few days. No need for anyone catching their death.”

  It didn’t take long for tools to be gathered, the supply wagon loaded, and the men to make their way home.

  Tom had hoped Tuesday would be a better day, but it proved just the opposite. Construction stalled when the railroad sent lighter rail gauge than needed, and it wasn’t temporary track. At least Fisk had been right about moving the locomotive. An elephant should be able to do the job. Who would have thought an elephant lived in North Dakota, out in the middle of nowhere, cared for by a woman? Tom had to laugh. When he got back to the yard in Chicago and told the story, he doubted anyone would believe him.

  What the railroad couldn’t ship by rail was being sent by wagon. The problem was the weather, which had yet to cooperate with his plans. He hated all the delays. A sense of restlessness started to nag him. This was going to take longer than he’d anticipated.

  Late Tuesday afternoon, when he was sure nothing else could be done, he saddled the mare he’d borrowed from the livery and asked Fisk for directions to Lil’s house. It was time to inquire about using the elephant to speed up productivity.