a hand, Dinah responded, “Idoubt Millie and Reverend Jake will care. We’re just talking about the Fourth of July picnic is all. But they want to include me. They’re always going out of their way to make me feel needed.”
“They’re not making you feel needed,” Ida said. “You are needed. There is a difference. The reverend and Millie couldn’t possibly pull off the annual picnic without your help, and you know it.”
“Still,” Dinah said, reaching for her bonnet, “I don’t want anyone to feel compelled to include me.” She gave Carter a kiss on the cheek. “Now, you be a good boy for Ida, son. Don’t give her any trouble.”
“No, ma’am.”
“No, ma’am, you won’t be a good boy, or no, ma’am, you won’t give her any trouble?”
Carter giggled. “No, ma’am, I won’t give her any trouble.”
“That’s my boy.” Dinah patted him on the head, then turned back to Ida. “Thank you for minding the store. I’ll be back before noon, I feel sure. And if you need anything—”
“Go, Dinah. Don’t fret.”
Her aunt drew in a deep breath, looking around the store, clearly anxious. “I forgot to mention there’s a shipment of sugar due in and Mrs. Gertsch said she would be coming by to trade some items. Don’t let her get away with too much, Ida. You know how she is.”
“Yes.” Ida tried to hide the smile.
“If her bartering goes on too long, she’ll end up owning the store.”
“I’ll handle everything.” Ida shooed her aunt out the door. “Now go on. How are Carter and I ever going to have any fun if you stay here?” Ida watched Dinah disappear down the street. Her heart secretly ached for Dinah. How such a dear, sweet woman could go on, day after day, after the tragedy she’d faced.
Ida shivered as she remembered that terrible night when Larson had leaped in front of an oncoming train to save the life of one of the railroad men, who was drunk on liquor purchased at Chuck Brewster’s saloon.
He should have been the one to die, not Larson.
Ida drew in a deep breath, determined not to allow herself to focus on the past. If Dinah could move ahead, surely she could do the same. Carter needed them both to be strong.
Ida turned back to her cousin with a forced smile. “Would you like to play with your jacks while I’m tending to the cash register?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As she dusted the glass cases, Ida heard noise coming from next door. She looked out the window, stunned to see a crew of men working on the empty lot, clearing the weeds. Some of them were Papa’s workers! Likely that scoundrel Bradley had offered them an exorbitant salary. What traitors! And Carl Walken, of all people. After all the food she’d served him, it seemed like a personal betrayal to find his feet planted in the enemy’s camp.
Off in the distance, Mick Bradley spoke to one of the men, giving orders. Ida’s skin began to crawl.Imagine, putting up the gambling hall next door to a perfectly respectable general store where children played and folks gathered for decent conversation and honorable transactions.
The door opened and Sophie entered the store with her mother. She drew near to the register. “Did you see the goings-on next door?”
“How could I avoid it?”
“What are your thoughts?” Sophie leaned against the counter.
“I think they are making entirely too much racket for a Saturday morning. They are distracting my customers and that will soon affect my business.”
Sophie looked around the empty mercantile. “Your business? But I don’t see—”
“Exactly.” Ida nodded as she yanked off her apron. “So, if you don’t mind watching the register a few minutes, I’d like to go have a word with Mr. Bradley.”
“Mind yourself, Ida,” Sophie said with a smile. “Don’t say anything you might regret later.”
Ida gave her a look of warning and turned to catch her reflection in the glass case so she could tidy up her hair. No point in arguing with the