Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel by Ann Shorey Read Free Book Online Page B

from our neighbors when I volunteered as a nurse.” She rose. “I’ll help you gather the checkers, then you can show me some buttons to match the dress goods I bought last week.”
    Faith smiled. “Funny you should ask about buttons. Want to do some sorting?”

     
    Faith stepped into the quiet house. She hadn’t seen Grandpa since they shared the contents of their dinner pails at noon. She prayed he’d gone home and hadn’t wandered off. “Grandpa?”
    “In here,” he called from the dining room.
    Mr. Saxon stood when she entered. “Miss Faith.”
    Astonished, she gazed at the chess game arranged between him and her grandfather. “Mr. Saxon. I trust you’re fully recovered from the ailment that kept you home on Sunday.”
    “I am. Thank you. My sister brewed one of her healing teas.”
    “Sit,” Grandpa told him. To Faith, he said, “I asked our guest to stay to supper. We won’t be much longer here. He doesn’t know it, but he’s about to be checkmated.”
    A broad grin spread over Mr. Saxon’s face. “Don’t be so sure.”
    Faith slipped an arm around Grandpa’s shoulders, tears stinging her eyes. “I’m happy to see you playing chess. It’s been a long time.”
    “Curt here mentioned it this afternoon. You know I can’t resist a challenge.”
    Mr. Saxon must have been divinely inspired to mention chess to her grandfather. Nothing she’d been able to do since her father died had tempted Grandpa to set out the carved pieces that had been so much a part of their lives.

     
    In the kitchen, Faith tossed chunks of wood onto the coals in the stove and considered her original plan for supper. Sausage stew wasn’t very fancy for a guest, but the simple meal would have to do. She peeled several potatoes and added them to a pot along with sliced sausage and onions. When the mixture came to a boil, she removed a jar of pickles and one of catsup from the pantry shelf and placed them on a tray with plates and utensils. Last night’s leftover Dolly Varden cake would be a fine dessert.
    When she carried the tray to the dining room, the two men were engrossed in their game. While Mr. Saxon’s attention focused on the board, she studied him without his knowledge. Dark brown hair curled at the back of his neck, falling forward over his scar. The ropy muscles along his forearms rippled when he reached forward to move a chessman. Looking at him, she had the impression of power held under tight control. An involuntary quiver crossed her body. She believed Grandpa to be a good judge of character, but still . . .
    “Supper’s ready.” She kept her voice bright. “If you’ll move the board to the end of the table, I’ll serve the meal.”
    Mr. Saxon jumped to his feet. “I hope you didn’t trouble yourself.” He reached for the tray. “Let me help.”
    She smiled to herself at the sight of the lanky stableman laying out their place settings. Maybe there was more to him than she thought.

7
     
    F aith closed the cash drawer. “Thank you, Mrs. Holmes. I trust you’ll be happy with your new baking tins.”
    “No doubt about it, my dear. My husband will pick them up at the end of the day.” She dropped her coin purse into her carryall. “It’s good to have a larger selection of kitchen goods here in Noble Springs. I’ve been needing a fluted pudding pan.”
    Smiling, Faith watched her leave. New merchandise lined the shelves at the front of the room, where shoppers would be drawn to the displays. Hanging the farm implements on a wall hadn’t slowed sales over the past month. At least, not much. She knew a number of Grandpa’s former customers no longer patronized the store.
    A rotund gentleman stepped toward her after Mrs. Holmes left. “Excuse me, little lady. I’m here to see Mr. Lindberg. He promised to place an order with me the next time I came through.” He removed his bowler hat and placed a scuffed leather case on the counter. A label pasted to the surface read “Henry Reed,