Firefly (45 page)

"I had one helluva hard time finding out about your Mr. Hollstrom.  The only bank in Rinton, Indiana, nine years ago went bankrupt in '81 and most of the people who had worked there left town.  I did locate a Howard Irvine, however, who is now a teller at the new bank and whose father worked at the old one.  The senior Mr. Irvine remembered this Hollstrom very well. 

"Wilhelm Hollstrom worked in the Rinton Bank for twelve years.  In the summer of '75, a serious shortage of funds appeared, and Hollstrom was suspected of embezzlement.  An investigation proved little, and when later he left town following the lynching of a young drifter, the bank's owner considered the matter closed.  It was discovered some months afterward that the young drifter was actually an agent for another bank, one in New York City, where Hollstrom had worked before coming to Indiana.  I investigated a little further myself and discovered that after the Hollstroms moved to Minnesota, Wilhelm was suspected there in a similar disappearance of funds from a store where he worked.  He also left behind a mountain of unpaid debts, exactly as he had in Indiana.  I traced him from Minnesota to Kansas City and discovered the same pattern.  Unpaid bills, and suspicious circumstances upon his leave-taking."

Morgan skimmed through the rest of the letter before he returned to that second paragraph and read it over and over.  He sat at the kitchen table and vaguely wondered where Winnie was; she should have been here cleaning his house and doing his laundry the way she did every Monday.  Yet he did not miss her.  He was hungry and wanted something to eat, but at the same time he knew he would not be able to stomach food.

No, Adam had gone on to say, there was no warrant out for Wilhelm Hollstrom, not after all these years.  Morgan was sorry for that.  Apparently the man's pride was his greatest possession, after his greed and cruelty, and Morgan would have enjoyed humiliating Hollstrom utterly to death.  He intended to find much greater satisfaction, however, in saving the man's daughter from a far worse fate.  If he could.

"Yoo-hoo, Dr, Morgan!"

There was the faithful Miss Upshaw at last.

"Come in, Winnie," he called.  When he heard her coming through the parlor, he folded the letter and slipped it back in its envelope.  "I've been out to Walsh's delivering twins."

She set a tray on the table in front of him; he could smell fried ham and hashed browns.

"I know.  Lucas saw Boone riding in this morning and told me you left together.  I figured Miz Walsh was about due--again.  My goodness, how many does that make now?  Nine?  No, if it was twins then she's got ten now.  Were they boys again, or did she finally have some girls?" Winnie lifted the cover from the plate that contained an enormous omelet and a pile of golden potatoes.  "I left coffee here for you.  Do you want some or should I go back and get some lemonade?  I made it fresh this morning for the boys and believe it or not there's still some left."

"No, thanks, Winnie.  Coffee's all I really want.  Did you happen to notice if there's anyone waiting at the office?"  He walked to the stove where the coffee pot stayed warm and took a cup down from the shelf.

"What do you mean all you want is coffee?" she scolded, ignoring his question.  "You were out all last night without supper and no breakfast either, because I checked with Leif to see if you ate there and he said you didn't.  Now you just sit yourself back down there and eat your lunch."

"Look, Winnie, if I have patients--"

"Well, sir, I don't have any patience," she interrupted brusquely.  "As a matter of fact, there are a couple of folks waitin' on the porch over there, but they can go right on waitin'.  I told 'em so.  I told 'em you'd been out on errands of mercy and would get to them as soon as you had your lunch.  Now, eat."

Poor Winnie.  She should have had a family of her own, rather than spending her life looking after her sister's boys.  Somehow, Winnie had settled Morgan down enough that hunger overcame anger, or maybe it was just the smell of that omelet.  Winnie wasn't a good cook by any means, but she had done a fair job on this meal, and he ought to give it his respect.  He sat down again.

"And while you're eating, I have a few things to say to you.  I heard that mean old Mr. Hollstrom talkin' in church about his daughter yesterday.  Now everybody in this town knows there ain't nothin' between you and Miss Julie, and I think anyone here would tell you she's done a fine job helpin' you and gettin' you to lay off the booze.  Lord knows I do my share of talkin', but I listen once in a while, too, and I have never ever heard one single word against her.  Not one.  But her father seems to be spreading all kinds of stories, kinda like he was repeatin' things he had heard other folks say only I know nobody did.  It's all him, and it's all lies."

Morgan chewed thoughtfully, digesting every word of Winnie's exactly as he did the food.  She rambled and sometimes got her thoughts out of order so that he had to re-sort them in his own mind, but he got the gist of her speech and was suddenly too hungry to interrupt her.

"I don't rightly know if I should say this, but I never kept my mouth shut when I should've before, so this is no time to start."  Winnie plopped herself down on the chair across from him and propped her double chins on her fists.  "Miss Julie has been damn good for you, Del Morgan.  In more ways 'n one.  She ain't Miss Amy and never will be, and no one can ever change that.  But you gotta do something to make that man stop talkin' about her that way.  You might even have to marry her, and that might not be such a bad idea.  There, I said it, and you can kick me back home if you want, but I'm not sorry a bit."

He swallowed, and without looking up, said flatly, "She's going to be married, to that Hans Wallenmund."

God, the words stuck in his throat like one of Winnie's unfortunate biscuits.  She had made cornbread today, and it wasn't so bad, but the biscuits she usually made were next best thing to inedible.

Winnie screwed up her face and tried to hold the word in, but it exploded from her anyway.

"Bullshit!"

Her face turned beet red, and Morgan couldn't hide a smile.

He was, however, too busy eating to keep her from picking up the thread of her filibuster.

"Well, that's what it is," she stammered defensively as her blush slowly subsided.  "You ask Gus down at the livery what he thinks of Mr. Wallenmund."

"What's Gus got to do with it?"

"Well, last spring, Mr. Wallenmund came into town and asked to rent a horse.  Said he needed to ride to Prescott and wanted a nice strong riding horse, 'cause he didn't need to take his wagon and his horse was only good for pullin', not ridin'.  Gus gave him Sam, seein' as how Sam is about the best distance horse he's got.  Well, 'bout a week later, Mr. Wallenmund--" she was spitting the name out now, not just speaking it, "-- drives back into town in his wagon with Sam tied to the rear.  That horse looked like he was run to death, only he wasn't sweatin' or nothing.  Just tuckered out, not like he would be after a ride even to Prescott.  Gus takes one look at Sam and starts swearin' a blue streak o' Swedish, 'cause Mr. Wallenmund had used Sam as a plow horse.  Sam!  Can you imagine?"

"And of course Hans denied it."

"Oh, of course.  Just like he denies beatin' up Maude over at Nellie's.  Nellie warned him again Saturday night about roughin' up her girls.  She charges him double 'cause of all the extra expenses he puts her to."

"How do you know so much about what goes on at Nellie's?" He lifted the last forkful of potatoes to his mouth and cocked his head at Winnie.

She blushed all over again.

"I visit with Nellie sometimes in McCrory's.  Did you know she was married once and her husband left her with five kids? She even taught school for a while, back in Iowa.  And Iris's grandpa was a preacher.  And--"

"All right, all right!  I don't need a life history of all the soiled doves in Nellie's house.  But you're sure about Hans?  I mean, about his roughing up Maude, and abusing Sam?"

Winnie drew herself up proudly and crossed her heart.

"I saw Sam when Mr. Wallenmund brought him in.  And you know Nellie even better 'n I do; she's a madam, not a liar."

He knew Nellie well enough to know she had told a few tales in her time, but he believed what she had told Winnie was true.  The marks on Maude proved it.

He took out his watch and snapped it open.

"Quarter to two.  Look, Winnie, do me a favor."  He swallowed the last mouthful of coffee with a sigh of satisfaction.  "I'm going to get cleaned up before I go to the office.  Will you hold the fort there for me? Give me half, three-quarters of an hour."

"What about Miss Julie?  Where's she?"

He stood and pushed his chair back.  Somehow, telling Winnie wasn't quite as difficult as he had expected, but he couldn't control the anger that slipped out in his voice.

"They've set a date for the wedding and Hans won't let her work any more.  As soon as I get done with today's patients, I'm going to see what I can do about changing that situation."

But slightly over an hour later, when he helped Winnie escort an arthritis-crippled old woman down the clinic steps, Morgan saw Hans drive up in the wagon and stop in front of Julie's house.  It was as though Wallenmund had already taken possession of her.  Morgan walked back into the waiting room with a scowl on his face.

*   *   *

Julie picked up the mending she had laid aside earlier.  She knew Hans was perturbed that she had not chosen to sit beside him on the sofa, but with her parents upstairs, she had her choice of seats.  And though she had been frantically busy all day, she had no intention of sitting idle now.  With three more stockings to darn, she would at least have something on which to focus her attention other than Hans.

Why, for heaven's sake, hadn't he left? Supper was over, the dishes were washed, and it was nearly dark.  Outside, Plato had settled into that soft silence that precedes sunset, when the shadows are long and indistinct and the light is so clear as to be almost tangible.  After a harried day that differed from Sunday only in that Julie had even more work, she would have liked to walk in that evening calm, even though there was no cooling breeze.  She could not bear the thought, however, of sharing it with Hans.

Nor would she give Morgan the chance to see them together.  He must have seen Hans arrive, or at least knew by the wagon's presence that her fiancé was in town.  She could do nothing about that.  But she could prevent any further public evidence of her engagement.  She refused to be seen with him.  So she sat, quietly intent on her darning, while Hans watched her from across the room.

She felt his gaze, the heat of that unveiled stare, and though it repulsed her, she found herself able to resist the desire to escape.  He had never stopped looking at her since the instant he had arrived.  He sat at the kitchen table and watched her while she prepared supper, then fixed his eyes on her throughout the meal itself.  Though he did not offer to help her with the dishes, he remained seated at the dining room table where he had a clear view to the kitchen.  Her spine prickled and her hands felt chilled even in the hot soapy water because she knew her every movement was carefully observed.

But none of it mattered.  He did not make any move to touch her, and as long as he kept his hands to himself, she would tolerate his stares.  If he touched her, or tried to kiss her as he had before, she wasn't sure she could maintain her calm.  She hoped she would not have to find out.

"Your papa gave us one hour," he said suddenly, so suddenly that Julie started.  She hadn't realized she was that lost in her thoughts.  "Ten minutes is gone already.  Put down that sewing and come here."

"I can't.  I must have all the chores done before--"