arms, he made another offer. “Better yet, let me take some of these from you. No trouble, I promise you.”
“That’s kind of you,” she said, “but Mrs. Longabach likely has need of you elsewhere. I can hear her calling for you. Just help me rearrange these, and I’ll be all right.”
Johnny regarded her with a mixture of skepticism and disappointment. He glanced at the broom he’d set against the restaurant’s window so he could help her. Sometimes he wished Mrs. Longabach would just hop on and ride it out of Reidsville. “Course, miss. I’ll get them settled in your arms just the way you want them.”
Rachel allowed her arms to relax as Johnny took the weight of the parcels from her. She knew she shouldn’t have tried to carry everything herself, but she’d stubbornly insisted that she could do it even though Mr. Showalter offered one of his boys to share the load. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the kindness; she simply didn’t want the company. She never wanted the company.
The sudden appearance of Mrs. Longabach made Rachel jump and lose the two parcels that Johnny had already put in her outstretched hands.
“Heavens! I didn’t mean to startle you, Miss Bailey. I came out to learn why Johnny was ignoring me.” Mrs. Longabach’s thin face lost its pinched, disapproving expression as she took account of the scene in front of her. “Well, I can surely see that he’s up to good this time, and I can tell you, it’s a nice change. Go on, Johnny, finish helping Miss Bailey. You take some of her packages and see that she gets home without another mishap.”
“No, really—” Rachel’s protest fell on deaf ears. Mrs. Longabach had her own reasons for making certain that the parcels arrived undamaged.
“My batiste came today, didn’t it?” As if she could divine the contents, Mrs. Longabach looked over the plainly wrapped parcels with an eager and eagle eye. “The moss green? Oh, I dearly hope it was the moss green.”
“The moss green and the shell pink.”
Mrs. Longabach’s eyes brightened. “Well, isn’t that just grand? I swear, Miss Bailey, you have the greatest good fortune when it comes to getting what you want.”
Rachel’s smooth brow creased. “I do?”
“Your material, dearie. Seems to me like the train from Denver runs to Reidsville just for you. There’s always something waiting for you when it reaches our end of the line.”
Rachel considered that. “I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t realized.”
“Course the train runs for all of us, doesn’t it just? I’m not the first one to say that we don’t know what would become of Reidsville if Clinton Maddox hadn’t decided we were worth the cost of rails and ties.” Mrs. Longabach tucked a frazzled tendril of nut-brown hair behind her ear. “None of that’s neither here nor there, is it? I don’t imagine you ever give it any thought, what with you being so new to our town and all.”
“I’ve been here more than a year now,” Rachel reminded her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Johnny Winslow’s arms were beginning to sag under the weight of her parcels. She snatched two from the top of the pile and shored up the others. “But you’re right, Mrs. Longabach, I never gave it a thought. That doesn’t speak well of me, I’m afraid.”
“I didn’t mean it as a criticism, Miss Bailey.” Her hands fiddled in the folds of her calico apron. “You shouldn’t think I meant it like that.”
Rachel hardly knew what to say. Rather than be caught in an endless circle of apologies where not even one was required or desired, she pointed to the armload that Johnny was barely balancing. “I should see to these, Mrs. Longabach. I’ll call on you when I’ve sorted through the material and schedule a fitting.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I’ll look forward to that. Go on with you, Johnny. Miss Bailey doesn’t need you dawdling, and I certainly need you back here. There’s pots, pans, and a kitchen floor that needs scrubbing. Now scat.”
Rachel noticed that Mrs. Longabach was primarily speaking to Johnny’s back, because as soon as she’d said “go,” the boy made a dash for it. “Good day, Mrs. Longabach.” She offered a brisk wave and took off after Johnny, lengthening her stride until she caught up with him in front of Wickham’s Leather Goods. “Whoa, Johnny. There’s no point in making a race of it.”
Johnny slowed his step so Rachel could fall in beside him. “Sorry, miss. Mrs. Longabach, well, sometimes I don’t know if I’m comin’ or goin’ when she’s around. Mister says that he just circles her and that seems to work most times.”
That no-account Beatty boy stepped out of Wickham’s. “Hey, Johnny. Miss Bailey. You need some help with what you got there?”
Johnny Winslow thrust out his chin, immediately defensive. “I got it.”
For Johnny’s benefit, Rachel was careful to temper her smile, but her response was no less firm. “We can manage, Deputy Beatty. Thank you.”
“But you don’t mind if I tag along, do you?”
Rachel did mind. Very much. The trouble was she couldn’t think of a single credible reason to keep the deputy from joining her. She hoped Johnny would be inspired to offer an objection, but he’d just struck a resigned, sullen pose. “If that’s your pleasure,” she said. She was polite but unenthusiastic, and judging by Will Beatty’s quick grin he didn’t fail to notice. Nevertheless, he was undeterred and loped along beside them, his long and lanky arms swinging at his sides.
“Shall we cross the street here, gentlemen?” she asked. “Unless I am mistaken, that’s Mr. Dishman taking a stretch from his checkers game and he looks set to join our parade.” She didn’t need to mention that Abe Dishman, a widower of some ten years and at least thirty years her senior, was one of her most ardent, persistent admirers. Everyone in Reidsville knew that Abe made a marriage proposal to her on or around the seventh of every month. Today was the fifth, too close to Abe’s chosen date for Rachel to risk a public declaration. She’d been setting herself to the problem of how to turn him down this time, and since she hadn’t quite worked it out in her mind, she judged it was better to avoid him.
“Too bad for Abe that checkers is his game,” Beatty said, looking up and down the street before they made the diagonal crossing.
“Hmm?” Rachel was unhappily aware that the deputy had placed his palm under her elbow to assist her from the sidewalk to the street. Distracted, she realized she hadn’t heard him. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Standing just behind them, Johnny stared hard at where Will Beatty’s hand rested on Rachel’s arm. “He said, ‘too bad for Abe that checkers is his game.’ Ain’t that right, Will? That’s what you said.”
Will nodded amiably. “I did.”
Rachel accepted the deputy’s help until she had firm footing on the dusty street, then gently disengaged herself from his fingers. “Why is that too bad?”
“Why, Miss Bailey, if he was a chess man, he’d have captured you long ago.”
“Is that so, Deputy?” She didn’t look at him but concentrated on keeping a step ahead so that when they reached the opposite sidewalk she could take the step up without his help. “Is that your notion alone or the prevailing thought?”
“Can’t
