Free Kaki Warner by Miracle in New Hope Page B

glad he had stopped by the barbershop. The stubble was gone and his hair had been trimmed. He smelled less horsey, too. “I’d like to talk to you, if I may.”
    “Sure.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment, then, as if suddenly remembering his manners, he pulled a glove from his pocket, dusted off the top of a flat boulder, and motioned for her to sit.
    She sat.
    He stuffed the glove back into his pocket. Then both hands. “That was a tasty meal you fixed for us tonight, ma’am. Thank you.”
    Those lovely manners again. Tom could take a lesson. “You’re welcome, Mr. Hobart. And thank you for the apples. They made a fine crisp.”
    “They surely did.”
    Another long silence. Propping his booted foot on a stump beside her rock, he rested his crossed forearms atop his knee so that his hands dangled on either side of his leg. He had surprisingly elegant hands for such a big man. And a remarkably sturdy leg.
    “What did you want to talk to me about, ma’am?”
    A nice voice, too. Low and unhurried, with the cadence of the South in the soft
r
’s and drawn-out syllables. A ferocious countenance and a gentle demeanor. Another contradiction.
    Uneasy with him looming over her, she looked toward the creek, where tiny surface ripples caught the last of the day’s light. “My brother wants to go back to New Hope tomorrow. But if there is a compelling reason not to, I could convince him to continue looking.”
    When he didn’t respond, she looked up to find his gaze fixed on her in an almost intrusive way. She was unused to such intense scrutiny, and found it a bit unnerving. Yet flattering. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her with such interest.
    “I don’t have any answers for you, Mrs. Ellis. Wish I did.”
    She let out a sigh. “I see. Will you go back with us then?”
    Reaching down, he loosened a pebble lodged in the splintered top of the stump. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger for a moment, then flicked it into the water. “Think I’ll head west to the fort. See what they have to say.”
    “We searched up there last year.”
    He shrugged.
    “But you have a reason to question them again,” she guessed. “Why?”
    “It probably won’t amount to anything.”
    “Tell me anyway. Please.”
    Lowering his foot to the ground, he straightened and thrust his hands back into the pockets of his shearling jacket. “The storekeeper said there were a lot of wagons in town that day. Eight or ten strung along the creek.”
    She nodded. “Pilgrims heading west. Many spoke a different language. German, I think. Or maybe Swiss. There was quite a crowd waiting by the door when he opened the store.”
    “Did you see a cat? Big calico?”
    A cat?
She frowned, picturing the scene in her mind as she had so many times over the last year. The cold, damp wind. The roughness of the burlap sack in her grip. Hannah tugging at her other hand, reaching toward a cat as it darted past. “Yes. When the door opened, it ran out toward the creek. Hannah wanted to stop and pet it, but I was in a hurry. A storm was coming, and Tom wanted to leave before it hit.” Had there been no storm, or had she stopped to let Hannah pet the cat, would it have made a difference?
    “Anything else?”
    She remembered customers crowding the doorway. Being jostled as they surged into the store. Finding the shelf with the canned beans. “I was trying to fill a sack with the supplies we needed, but I couldn’t with Hannah holding my hand. I told her to hold onto my skirt, instead.”
    “Then what?”
    Images flashed through her mind. Her heart began to pound. “I was looking for a tin of molasses, but it was hard to move around with so many people crowding the aisles. Then I saw it on a high shelf. I reached up to get it and . . . ” Her voice faltered. She realized she was twisting her hands together in her lap and forced herself to stop.
    “And what?” he prodded.
    “S-Someone bumped me. I dropped the