end.
Amelia might be her only close friend and ally, but Laura could never confide everything—not even after hearing about Amelia’s mission of mercy to the Silver Slipper. She couldn’t risk losing her only friend.
“It was a pleasant outing. More coffee?”
“Please.” Amelia handed over her cup. “I hope we’ll be seeing you out and about more often. Especially with Brand.”
“Well—” Laura let her words drift away as she refilled the cup. “Here you go.”
“He’s very sweet on you, you know.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Laura said, thinking out loud.
“You know, Laura, you can protest all you like, but I saw the way he looked at you—”
Laura cut her off. “We’re not suited.”
“Fiddlesticks.” Amelia took a long sip and then asked, “Why not?”
For one thing, I’m no better than the women at the Silver Slipper.
“I’m not in the market for a husband,” she said. She picked up the dish. “Cookie?”
“Maybe just one. You know, I wasn’t looking for love when Hank came along either. In fact, I was fairly certain I was going to live my life alone. A spinster on the shelf. Then Hank and I discovered love finds us, Laura, whether we are looking for it or not.”
Love.
Laura wondered what Amelia would say if she told her friend she didn’t believe in love.
There came a soft knock on the door of Laura’s study. It was Anna, whose concern showed in her dark eyes.
“So sorry, señora. A man asking for Mrs. Larson.” She glanced at Amelia and then away. “He says it is an emergency.”
“Thank you, Anna.” By the time Laura turned around, Amelia had already set down her cup and had her medical bag in hand.
Laura asked Anna to collect the coffee tray and then followed Amelia to the entry hall. Beyond the front door, a grizzled olderman, stooped and bearded, waited on the veranda. He held a stained and battered hat in hand, curling the brim as he passed it round and round through gnarled fingers. His faded eyes were deep set, sunken in an emaciated face, his clothing a collection no better than a rag bag. His trousers, stained and wrinkled, were barely recognizable as part of a Confederate uniform.
She’d seen men like him before, drunks that hung around bars and saloons begging for odd jobs, for a few coins and a place to sleep. She knew how to handle bums and beggars and was about to tell him to go around back to the kitchen. But Amelia stepped out onto the veranda to speak to him.
“Amelia—” she began.
Amelia smiled over her shoulder. “It’s all right, Laura.” She turned to the indigent. “What is it, Rob?”
“Mazie’s taken a turn for the worst. Denton’s afraid she ain’t gonna make it this time. She’s calling for you and a preacher. We’re hopin’ you got something for her pain, ‘cause the liquor ain’t working no more.”
Laura watched the exchange, wished it wasn’t unfolding here. She didn’t have to imagine the scene at the Silver Slipper. She’d witnessed more than one death in just such a place before.
“I’ll walk back with you.” Amelia told Rob.
Laura knew better than to protest; she knew Amelia could most likely take care of herself. But Amelia didn’t leave immediately. First she turned to Laura.
“Will you go get Brand for me? Bring him to the Silver Slipper? Tell him a young woman desperately needs him, and she hasn’t much time. If he’ll come, that is.”
“Oh, he’ll come,” Laura said. It was the least the preacher could do for a dying woman begging for help. “I’ll see to it.”
At a trot, Amelia followed the man, who was already off the porch and limping down the walk. Laura hurried to the kitchen and told Rodrigo and Anna that she’d be back as soon as possible and to settle any guests when they arrived. She then ran upstairsand grabbed a bonnet and gloves and dashed outside, thankful the horse and buggy were still hitched up.
She hadn’t driven in a long while, but the reins felt
Amelia might be her only close friend and ally, but Laura could never confide everything—not even after hearing about Amelia’s mission of mercy to the Silver Slipper. She couldn’t risk losing her only friend.
“It was a pleasant outing. More coffee?”
“Please.” Amelia handed over her cup. “I hope we’ll be seeing you out and about more often. Especially with Brand.”
“Well—” Laura let her words drift away as she refilled the cup. “Here you go.”
“He’s very sweet on you, you know.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Laura said, thinking out loud.
“You know, Laura, you can protest all you like, but I saw the way he looked at you—”
Laura cut her off. “We’re not suited.”
“Fiddlesticks.” Amelia took a long sip and then asked, “Why not?”
For one thing, I’m no better than the women at the Silver Slipper.
“I’m not in the market for a husband,” she said. She picked up the dish. “Cookie?”
“Maybe just one. You know, I wasn’t looking for love when Hank came along either. In fact, I was fairly certain I was going to live my life alone. A spinster on the shelf. Then Hank and I discovered love finds us, Laura, whether we are looking for it or not.”
Love.
Laura wondered what Amelia would say if she told her friend she didn’t believe in love.
There came a soft knock on the door of Laura’s study. It was Anna, whose concern showed in her dark eyes.
“So sorry, señora. A man asking for Mrs. Larson.” She glanced at Amelia and then away. “He says it is an emergency.”
“Thank you, Anna.” By the time Laura turned around, Amelia had already set down her cup and had her medical bag in hand.
Laura asked Anna to collect the coffee tray and then followed Amelia to the entry hall. Beyond the front door, a grizzled olderman, stooped and bearded, waited on the veranda. He held a stained and battered hat in hand, curling the brim as he passed it round and round through gnarled fingers. His faded eyes were deep set, sunken in an emaciated face, his clothing a collection no better than a rag bag. His trousers, stained and wrinkled, were barely recognizable as part of a Confederate uniform.
She’d seen men like him before, drunks that hung around bars and saloons begging for odd jobs, for a few coins and a place to sleep. She knew how to handle bums and beggars and was about to tell him to go around back to the kitchen. But Amelia stepped out onto the veranda to speak to him.
“Amelia—” she began.
Amelia smiled over her shoulder. “It’s all right, Laura.” She turned to the indigent. “What is it, Rob?”
“Mazie’s taken a turn for the worst. Denton’s afraid she ain’t gonna make it this time. She’s calling for you and a preacher. We’re hopin’ you got something for her pain, ‘cause the liquor ain’t working no more.”
Laura watched the exchange, wished it wasn’t unfolding here. She didn’t have to imagine the scene at the Silver Slipper. She’d witnessed more than one death in just such a place before.
“I’ll walk back with you.” Amelia told Rob.
Laura knew better than to protest; she knew Amelia could most likely take care of herself. But Amelia didn’t leave immediately. First she turned to Laura.
“Will you go get Brand for me? Bring him to the Silver Slipper? Tell him a young woman desperately needs him, and she hasn’t much time. If he’ll come, that is.”
“Oh, he’ll come,” Laura said. It was the least the preacher could do for a dying woman begging for help. “I’ll see to it.”
At a trot, Amelia followed the man, who was already off the porch and limping down the walk. Laura hurried to the kitchen and told Rodrigo and Anna that she’d be back as soon as possible and to settle any guests when they arrived. She then ran upstairsand grabbed a bonnet and gloves and dashed outside, thankful the horse and buggy were still hitched up.
She hadn’t driven in a long while, but the reins felt
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