Reading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.Searching for Anna by Jenifer Carll-Tong (motivational books for students TXT) đź“–
- Author: Jenifer Carll-Tong
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Book online «Searching for Anna by Jenifer Carll-Tong (motivational books for students TXT) 📖». Author Jenifer Carll-Tong
"Humph. Mining's dirty business."
"Moonshining isn't all that clean," Will responded.
Lambecker spit in the general direction of one of the spittoons. "My moonshinin' business wasn't hurtin' anyone."
"I'll bet that's what that farmer in Watson thought before killing all those miners with his rotgut," Frank Little said.
"You ain't gotta be worried about me killin' anyone."
Will remembered his original mission. "Jimmy Richardson is dead." He said it matter-of-factly.
Henry Lambecker's face turned ashen. He sunk into the nearest rocker and placed his head in his hands. "He was just a kid. He didn't deserve to die."
Will and Frank looked at one another.
"Henry," Will started. "Are you trying to tell us something?"
Henry's head shook back and forth in his hands. "I told 'im to leave it alone, to mind 'is own business, but he had some sort of itchin' to solve things. I thought it might get 'im roughed up. Never thought it get 'im killed."
"So, you know who killed Jimmy?" Frank asked.
Henry looked up, as if he had forgotten Will and Frank were there. His face grew dark. "I don't know nothin'."
"That's not what it sounds like," Will said. "I never said Jimmy was murdered, but you knew. You said Jimmy was sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Where was that exactly?"
"I told you, I don't know nothin'."
"Maybe we should continue this conversation at the Constabulary post."
Henry shrugged. "Fine by me. You gotta feed yer prisoners, don't ya?" He laughed. "But beyond what I'd like on my sandwich, I ain't got nothin to tell you." Henry stood and headed for the door of the shack. He turned back to Will and said, "Before prohibition, I was considered a law-abidin’ citizen. No one cared none about my still. Now I'm a criminal. Well, I'll tell you what, I'm not the real criminal. If you boys don't start doin' yer job and figure out who the real bad guys are around here, Jimmy won't be the only kid lost."
"Good morning, Mrs. Wiggins!" Phoebe called, crossing the street. "What are you doing?"
"Pulling weeds," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "I've been a little negligent in my care of this garden and am paying for it in lambsquarters and crabgrass."
Phoebe looked over the fence. "I had heard that in company towns there was often a lot left open for townspeople to do additional gardening. I didn't realize that lot was across the street from the church."
"True, there are lots for those in company housing to farm on, but this isn't one of them. This property belongs to the church. It's the location of the future parsonage."
"Future parsonage? I didn't know there was to be a different parsonage."
Mrs. Wiggins laughed. "Oh, yes. You didn't think that little building you're living in was our plan all along, did you?"
"I wasn't sure," she admitted.
"Goodness, no. The plan was always to build on this site, but when the company pulled out, taking half the town and their money with it, plans were put on hold. So, we've been using it for extra gardening space. Actually, most of what is in your pantry came from this garden."
Phoebe looked around the lot, remembering what the women had said about supplying her with more goods once this year's harvest came in.
"May I help you?"
Mrs. Wiggins looked up, surprised.
"If you have time, that would be much appreciated!"
Phoebe hurried back to her house to put on an apron and grab a stool. The two women worked through the morning together, chatting as they cleaned around the plants. Mrs. Wiggins had a pleasant personality and Phoebe found her extremely easy to talk to. She learned that like Mr. Speer, Mr. Wiggins had become a partner in the mine after the Middleton Mining company pulled out. The two of them, along with a few more, oversaw the day-to-day operations of the mine. In fact, it had been Mr. Wiggins who had hired Wendell.
The sound of horse hooves interrupted their conversation. Phoebe looked up to find Will Caffey dismounting and tying his horse to a post. She rose and met him outside the gate.
"Hello Officer Caffey," she said coolly. "Is there something that you need?"
"No, ma'am," he responded without smiling. "A letter arrived for you and I told the postmaster I would deliver it."
He handed her the envelope, which she took without another word. She turned her back to him to return to the garden.
"Phoebe," Will spoke softly. "How long will you be angry with me?"
She stood frozen, shocked by the tenderness in his voice. Mrs. Wiggins was hard at work and appeared not to have heard him.
"Please. I can't take your contempt much longer."
Phoebe took a deep breath and was about to respond when Mrs. Wiggins stood up and came toward them, carrying a basket of cabbage and her stool.
"Well, that takes care of things for the day. Thank you, Miss Albright, for your help. I'd have been here all day without you. Good day, constable," she said nodding and smiling.
Mrs. Wiggins' departure left Phoebe and Will alone on the street, a dilemma Phoebe was about to remedy. "Thank you, Officer Caffey, but if you will excuse me, I'd like to be alone to read my letter."
Without another word, Phoebe crossed the street to her parsonage. Once inside, she peeked through the curtain to see how he'd respond. To her astonishment, he was headed straight toward her house. She jumped away from the window and positioned herself in front of the door, ready to pounce when he knocked. If he was going to follow her after she had so blatantly dismissed him, then she was finished with formalities. Will Caffey was about to hear how she really felt about him.
She heard him climb the stairs, and then she heard him place something on her porch. She waited for the knock, but it never came. All she heard was the sound of his boots bounding back down the steps. When she looked back out the window again, he was riding away.
When she was certain he was out of sight, she opened her front door. Sitting off to the side, right where he had left it, was her stool.
She sat at her table and with the envelope. The name on the return address read only Albright, but Phoebe knew by the handwriting that it was from her father. This is the post she had been waiting for – the one in response to the letter she had sent him after discovering Will Caffey in Iron Falls. She ripped the envelope open.
The letter began with the usual pleasantries. Her father wrote about news from home, what her mother had been doing since she left, what kind of mischief Sarah was getting herself into, how Esther was feeling this late in her pregnancy. It wasn't until the second page that her father addressed the Will Caffey situation.
I received your letter today. I was expecting it, knowing that by now Will would have made his presence known. I am sorry that you have been hurt by our actions. That was never our intent. In fact, it was just the opposite. Keeping the news of Will's whereabouts was, we all felt, in your best interest. It was not in any way intended to 'manipulate' you, as you so bluntly accused.
Do you remember that conversation you and I had on the train? When we discussed the decision to move north had to be your decision and your decision alone? It couldn't be influenced by my ideas or anyone else's, otherwise you may weigh your options based on the world's thoughts and not on God's will alone. Whether you want to admit it or not, if you had known about Will's appointment, it would have clouded your judgment, maybe even swayed your decision. Of this I am certain, because I spent many hours on my knees asking God for wisdom and He made it very clear to me that I was not to tell you. I don't know why for certain; I just know I was not. So, rather than manipulate, our intention was to give you the freedom that you needed – and deserved – to make your own choice.
I'd also like to remind you that Will accepted the post weeks before you made your decision to take the church there in Iron Falls. Once you made your decision, we decided to wait to tell you that he was there, too. I will admit that it felt underhanded, acting like some random constable was delivering your baggage or that I didn't know the man who'd arranged a place for me to sleep. But everything said and done was for your benefit. I had hoped that, given a week or so, you would have enough time to discover what we already knew – all of us - that you were capable of conquering any task God asked of you, with or without Will Caffey nearby.
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