The Parson's Christmas Gift. Kerri Mountain
With a deep breath she pulled on her shapeless hat and mounted the steps to the open door.
A cloud of grime swept over her worn skirt.
“Sorry, ma’am! I didn’t see you there.”
She drew her lips up in a gracious smile. So much for looking civilized.
The man stopped sweeping and leaned against the broom, nodding her through the doorway on his way out. “My wife’ll be with you in a little bit, ma’am. Take a look around.” Journey watched a grin peek from below his full mustache.
Whitened walls gave the store an open feel, much as the landscape did for the little town. An inviting stove glowed in the center near the back. Canned peaches, harness fittings and an odd conglomeration of pans and kettles rested on shelves and pegs behind the counters on either side. Barrels marked Flour and Sugar sat in front.
She tried not to notice the curious stares following her as she browsed her way along the bolts of yard goods, but still started when a young woman asked her, “Anything I can help you with?”
Pulling a bolt of navy broadcloth from the wall, she responded with a flash of smile, determined to be calm. “I’d like a dress length of this, please.” It would cut into her meager funds, but a purchase always made an impression when she needed information. She’d need a new dress before winter anyway. Tattered hems made only wrong impressions.
She stepped toward the counter. Though she’d always been short of stature, the shopkeeper’s wife dwarfed her by a good eight or nine inches. The woman must’ve been about her own age, judging from the smooth skin and bright green eyes. Honey-blond hair hung in a low tail down her back.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” the lady said as she measured the cloth. Journey nodded when the woman glanced up. “I’m Abigail Norwood—Abby to most. Have you met my husband, Sam?”
“Yes, she did, I’m afraid,” the low voice called from the porch. He wedged through the door and made a show of putting the broom in its corner space. “I gave her a right unfriendly greeting, though.”
The woman shook her head in mock despair. “The one time I get him to sweep up in here.” A sheepish grin drew across her lips. “Anyway, it’s always nice to see a new face in town.”
“Thanks,” Journey said. She hoped her smile didn’t waver.
“You visiting family?”
She shook her head, making a show of fumbling with the latches on her saddlebag.
“Just passing through, then?”
Sam Norwood stepped back into the room from what Journey guessed was a storage area. He smiled under his thick mustache again, and his eyes twinkled at his wife. “You’ll have to forgive her,” he said. “She has a soft spot for the curious cat.”
A blush lit Abby’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just like to meet new folks. My apologies if I’ve overstepped, Miss…?”
“Smith…Journey Smith. Actually, someone with a little curiosity could be exactly the person to help me.” She breathed deeply, gathering any poise and confidence she could muster. “I wondered if you know where I might find work around here.”
“So you’re planning on staying? Most folks pass through on their way to Virginia City. What type of work are you looking for?”
“I’ve done a little bit of a lot of things. Tended children, waited tables—”
“Ever done housekeeping?”
“My own.”
Journey stood steadily under Abby’s gaze. She thought if she held her breath she could probably hear the gears whirring in the woman’s brain.
Abby turned to her husband then, looking down slightly to meet his eyes. “What about Miss Rose? She’s been hoping to find someone to help out around her house. I’m not sure what arrangements she’s thinking on, but I could take you out there if you’re interested.”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town. I was thinking—”
“Nonsense. Miss Rose is a fine woman. Once you meet her, you’ll never want to leave.”
“It’s not that…” Journey stammered.
Abby looked up from where she was cutting the thick cloth. “At least speak with her. You never know how well things might work out.”
Journey searched for an inoffensive excuse. “I don’t want to be a bother. If you’ll direct me to her house, I’d—”
“It’s no bother at all. She lives on a ranch outside of town. Let me get my things and I’ll take you there,” Abby said, tying a string around the fabric Journey had purchased. “If you like, you can leave your trunks inside until you return.”
Fear fluttered like a moth in her throat. “I’m traveling rather light. All I have is my horse tied out front. I’m certain I could find the place on my own.”
As Abby patted the package and pulled her coat from a nearby hook, Journey caught her questioning glance but noticed it didn’t stop her motion. “It’d be easier to show you. Sam knows I need to get out on days like this, anyway. He can handle the store for a few hours until we get back. I haven’t had a chance to visit Miss Rose in a while myself. We’ll take some sandwiches and have a nice little picnic. It’ll give you a chance to get to know her.”
“You can tether your horse around back, if that’ll suit,” Sam offered. “My wife’s a natural guide, born and raised right here in Walten. Montana grows them pretty, that’s for sure.”
Journey forced her arms and legs to relax. There seemed no way around it, short of racing out the front door and galloping away on Gypsy. “If you’re sure.”
Sam moved back toward the storage room. “I’ll hitch up the team. Oh, and, Miss Smith—”
“Please, call me Journey.”
A dimple joined the grin on Sam’s face. “Journey, if things don’t work out with Miss Rose, come back here. We can’t offer much more than a cot, but we might be able to find some work for you.”
She nodded once, turning her head in time to catch the knowing smile Abby directed his way. Journey wrinkled her brow, wondering what these people expected from her.
“Thanks. I’ll just go and tie my horse around back.”
“Wait! Take your cloth—on the house.” Abby thrust the neat package her way.
“I don’t need charity.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true.
But she heard the insistence in Abby’s voice. “Not charity. I guess Sam owes you for the mess he swept over you. We can’t be treating our customers that way or we won’t have them long.”
She studied Abby. She seemed sincere enough, and she had made a point of not noticing the tattered seams in her dress. “I appreciate your kindness,” Journey said, looking away as she slid the wrapped cloth into her satchel.
“I’ll meet you around back,” Abby said.
Journey nodded. Their kindness overwhelmed her a little. Maybe Hank’s training had become more ingrained than she thought. They were just the type of people he had always sought—helpful and unsuspecting. Fortunately for them, she’d rid the world of at least one of his kind.
Journey slid farther into the corner of the narrow wagon seat. Abby had peppered her with a dozen questions before they’d even left sight of town. The sparse grass crackled under the wagon wheel, and she considered her odds of surviving a leap of escape.
“How far to the ranch?”
Abby paused. “Oh, probably three or four miles. Did you live—”
“It’s easy to get caught