Read Online The Promise of Morning by Ann Shorey - Free Book Online Page B

swallowed audibly. “For Maria. And I need some kitchen supplies, as well.” Ellie handed Ben a list and moved toward the back of the store where the dry goods were kept.
    Matthew realized he’d been holding his breath, as though by not breathing he could direct all his energy on helping his wife through a painful moment. He exhaled with a whoosh and turned to Ben. “I see we’re still in disagreement over those folks bringing a play to Beldon Grove. You have a new handbill posted outside.”
    “Aye-yuh.” Ben placed Ellie’s list beside the cash box. He met Matthew’s gaze. “Figured you had more important things on your mind than a fight with me over something that’s only going to last one night. Few more weeks they’ll be gone and none of us will be the worse for it.”
    “Maybe the play will last one night, but what about the folks who’ll be exposed to evil beforehand with all this stagehand and seamstress folderol? Young girls could be led astray.”
    As Ben opened his mouth to reply, Ellie called from the back of the room. “Mr. Wolcott, I need two dress lengths of this double pink calico.”
    Ben shook his head at Matthew and lifted a long-bladed pair of shears from under the counter, then walked back to where rolls of fabric were displayed.
    Matthew folded his arms and watched while his friend measured and cut the patterned cloth. No matter what Ben thought, Matthew knew he was right.

8
    “Will you stop at Molly’s?” Ellie asked after Matthew untied Samson from the rail at the front of the store. “I don’t feel I’ve properly thanked her for keeping the children for us after . . . well, for keeping the children.” She blinked back tears, grateful that the broad brim of her bonnet hid her face.
    “Be glad to.” He turned Samson east toward Adams Street.
    Ellie relaxed on the wagon seat, relishing the sunshine’s warmth soaking into her shoulders. A light breeze carried the scent of lilacs from beyond a picket fence fronting a white clapboard house at the corner. She made a mental note to ask Mrs. Carstairs for a start off her lilac bush. She’d plant it as a memorial—without mentioning that fact to Matthew. His refusal to talk about Julia told her more strongly than words that he blamed her for their baby’s death.
    After tapping on the frame of the open door to signal their presence, Matthew and Ellie entered the Spengler cabin. The kitchen was deserted. An open box containing a cake of stove polish rested on the table, next to scattered brushes and a rag.
    Agitated voices came from the direction of the room that housed Karl’s medical practice.
    Ellie cocked her head. “That sounds like Molly. Let’s go around to the office.”
    “I don’t know.” Matthew hesitated. “Maybe we should leave them be.”
    “No. We’re here. I want to see Molly.” She turned just as the door at the end of the hallway banged open and Molly dashed toward them, sobbing. Karl strode a few paces behind her, distress written on every line of his face.
    For a moment, Ellie stood rooted in place. Then she took a step toward her and laid one hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?”
    “It’s James. He’s run off to enlist in the militia.”
    “No.” Ellie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Are you sure that’s where he’s gone?”
    Karl replied for his wife. “No doubt about it. This week’s Monitor said Mexicans attacked our troops near the Rio Grande. As soon as James read that, all he could talk about was joining up.” He grasped Molly’s shoulders and drew her to his side. “Show them the note.”
    Sniffling, she took a wrinkled sheet of paper from her apron pocket and handed it to Ellie.
    Dear Mama and Papa Karl.
    I can’t abide seeing our great country threatened. Me and two other fellows are heading to Texas to join in the fight against Mexico. Please don’t be worried. You know how good I am with a rifle. I will write to you when circumstances allow.
    Your son James
    “Oh, Molly.” Ellie