“Not offhand.” The shopkeeper shrugged. “You might ask Henry Caldwell, though. He tends to have his finger on the pulse of what’s what. Knows who’s coming and going, who needs this or that.”
It made sense, with how the attorney had arranged the purchase of their land.
“Thank you.” Lark reached to tip her hat out of habit, then flinched when her fingers touched her sunbonnet, which she’d conceded to for visiting town. So much to get used to.
Leaving the loaded wagon in the shade of the store, she crossed the street to the attorney’s office and rapped on the door. It would be good to see him again.
“Ah, Miss Nielsen.” Mr. Caldwell opened the door with a smile. “What a pleasure to see you.” He stepped back and gestured for her to enter. “I was just chatting with a friend of yours.”
Lark stepped inside. Dr. Brownsville rose from the chair in front of Mr. Caldwell’s desk.
She stopped short, stiffening. “Forgive me.” This wasn’t a good place for their first encounter after the last conversation. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Not at all.” Mr. Caldwell waved a hand. “We were just visiting. Dr. Brownsville is looking for a horse, and I know someone who might be willing to swap a horse and buggy for his oxen and wagon. You know him, actually—Mr. Young, the banker who handled your homestead purchase.”
Really? She wouldn’t have pegged him as a farmer. But then, most of the folks in town probably held dual lives if they’d come out to settle the territory in the first place.
The doctor stood silently, polite but unsmiling. Mr. Caldwell glanced between them, his brow creased.
“I have a similar question, as it happens.” Lark focused her attention on the attorney. “I’m looking to sell a span of our oxen as well—or at least the one that belonged to the family of the little boy we took in. Mr. Jorgensen said you might know of someone who’d be interested.”
Mr. Caldwell rubbed his chin. “I’ll ask around. I believe I heard of a settler looking to try oxen instead of mules on his homestead. May I let you know?”
“Of course. Thank you.”
“By the way, my wife has been wanting to have your family to supper one of these days.” Mr. Caldwell leaned on his cane. “Would Sunday evening be convenient? She’s eager to chat with more womenfolk. She says this territory is overrun with men.”
Lark smiled and nodded. “I see no problem with that.” Her sisters would be delighted with a social invitation, that was certain. “Please give her our thanks.”
“We’ll look forward to it.”
Silence hung.
“I won’t keep you gentlemen any longer. Good day to you, Mr. Caldwell. Dr. Brownsville.” Lark turned to go, the doctor’s chill in the room outdoing the heat through the sunny window.
“Miss Nielsen.” His voice halted her steps.
“Yes, Doctor?”
“My nephew informed me you could use some assistance with the haying. Tell your sisters I’ll be out first thing tomorrow.”
Shock nearly dropped her jaw. “Th-thank you.” By sisters, did he mean Forsythia? Lark searched his somber brown gaze but found no indication. She nodded to both gentlemen again and headed into the welcome sunshine once more.
Well, Lord, at least he’s speaking to us again. But by the look of things, he’s not ready to forgive, much less forget.
“What was that about?” Henry Caldwell’s steady gaze bored into Adam.
“What do you mean?” Adam sat back down, though he couldn’t quite meet his friend’s eyes.
“With Miss Nielsen, man. You turned into a veritable icicle. Don’t tell me you have feelings for her.”
“For her? Certainly not.” Adam’s neck heated.
“Aha. For someone else, then.” Henry eased back into his chair and poised his cane like a schoolmaster’s rule.
“This has nothing to do with—no.” Adam shifted his weight, the anger rising in his chest again, however he tried to rid himself of it. “I simply—I found that I had been deceived by the Nielsen family after we traveled together for some weeks. Or rather, that they had been deceiving me all along.”
“Ah.” The attorney nodded. “Miss Larkspur and her guise as a man.”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Henry steepled his fingers. “But you do understand why she did it?”
“I do. But not why they kept up the deception so long to a friend.”
“And to one of the sisters, you wish to be more than a friend, is that it?” The attorney tipped his head. “Might that be why the seeming betrayal runs deeper?”
Adam couldn’t think what to say. He could see how his friend might nonplus defendants in the courtroom.
“Forgive me,” Henry said. “I won’t press you on this. But let me just say that bitterness, whether in a friendship or something more, is not something to let take root. I speak from experience.”
They sat a moment in silence. Adam, feeling somehow a chastened son even if the other man barely had ten years on him, nodded, gazing at the attorney’s Bible sitting on his desk. Have I even talked to you about this, Lord?
“Well.” Henry tapped his cane on the floor and stood. “Enough sermonizing from me. Let’s go take a look at that horse.”
Half an hour later, Adam stood stroking the nose of a dark bay gelding, the animal’s form and teeth showing he had many good years left in him. The horse nuzzled Adam’s palm with soft whiskers.
“Sorry, boy. I don’t have any sugar for you.” Something warmed in his chest, and he laid his palm on the horse’s broad cheek and looked into its eyes. It had been some time since he’d had a special bond with a mount of his own.
“I’ll take him.” He nodded to Hiram Young, the banker. “And the buggy too.”
“Fine by me. My son-in-law’ll be mighty happy with the oxen and wagon for a wedding present.” Mr. Young hooked his thumbs in his vest. “They’re sharing our homestead now that our Becky got married, doing the farming for us.”
Well, that explained it. Adam
