His huge hands clenched and unclenched the reins. “Might not’ve been a girl at all,” he said.
I lifted a skeptical brow. “You make it sound as though she were some sort of spirit.” Eyeing Big Tom, I waited to see his mustache lift with a smile. Surely this was a joke on the newcomer, a little game to scare me. But he only shook his head slowly.
“The things in the woods ain’t nothing to laugh at,” he said.
Stolid, salt-of-the-earth Big Tom and Hettie Weatherington believed in ghosts? I supposed it wasn’t such a leap from thinking herbs, plants, and rocks could protect or bring good luck to believing in a haunted wood, but a ripple of surprise rolled over me regardless. The child had been strange, but not that strange. “She didn’t look ghostly.” I winced, realizing that I claimed not to believe in ghosts, yet somehow had an opinion on what one would look like. “She skipped school, then got worried she’d be in trouble when I saw her, so she ran off.” I spoke my theory with brassy certainty, yet the memory of the woods pressed in—that sense of being enveloped in something beyond my previous experience. My hands started to shake. I slid them under my knees. “I think we should go look for her.”
“If there were a missing child, we’d have heard about it by now. The whole town would’ve been out looking out for her,” Hettie said.
Big Tom nodded. “A clerk from the corn mill rode over to bring our pay this morning, and he didn’t mention anybody in town going missing.” They took for granted that any unusual event would be the subject of immediate, widespread discussion throughout Wheeler.
“The best thing you can do is keep out of those woods,” Hettie said. I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a silencing hand. “If it’ll ease your mind, I’ll ask around, see if anybody’s heard of a little one gone wandering. But you got to promise to quit messing around in the woods.” The lines between her eyes deepened with worry. Whether I believed in something otherworldly or not, I was indebted to these people. They’d given me work and a place to stay, plus more patience than I felt I deserved.
“All right,” I said. “No more shortcuts. I’ll stick to the road next time.” Big Tom smiled his approval and Hettie reached over to pat my knee with stiff sincerity.
“Good. We want you safe.” Surprised, happy warmth hit my chest. It had been a long while since I’d had someone try to take care of me.
“We’re here,” Big Tom announced. A sea of wagons and buggies converged from every direction to pack Argenta’s main street. The sidewalks thronged with people, all dressed up and streaming toward a sprawling field behind the train depot. A tall sign lettered in bright red proclaimed the pasture to be, at least for the day, the Pine County Fairground.
Big Tom steered the buggy into a shady spot under a stand of oaks and climbed out to tie the horse. All the hitching sheds were already occupied. It appeared the entire county really had turned out for the fair. Hettie stood, hugging her jars like treasure, readying to climb down.
“Let me hold that for you,” I said, reaching for the crate.
“I’ve got it,” a deep voice answered. Abel had ridden ahead on his own horse, a chestnut gelding with the unexpected name Merlin. Appearing beside the buggy now, he took the box in one hand, then extended the other to his aunt and helped her step down onto the wheel-rutted ground. “You look really nice, Aunt Het.”
Hettie scoffed, but there was a light in her usually serious eyes. She’d dressed for the occasion in a high-necked burgundy blouse and gored skirt, graying hair coiffed under a ribbon-trimmed straw hat. Life on the farm seemed to offer few breaks from the grinding sunup-to-sundown routine, and it made me smile to see how much Hettie enjoyed this day of respite.
My smile faded when Abel reached for my hand next, his blue eyes sincere as he took in my white eyelet dress. “And so do you, Verity.” I knew this was a peace offering, not a flirtation, but I couldn’t help thinking of his left-behind love, or how Della pined for him, unaware of his secret.
I schooled my features to a neutral expression. “Thank you.” His warm, callused hand closed over mine as I stepped lightly to the ground.
“You’re welcome,” he said as Big Tom and Hettie began filing down a trail worn through the grass toward the fair. We fell in line behind them, Abel with his hands in his trouser pockets, whistling softly to himself. His cream-colored shirtsleeves were rolled up to show tan forearms. I wanted to slap myself for noticing. Scoundrels shouldn’t have such nice arms.
Dabbing sweat from my upper lip, I scanned the rows of white tents edging the western border of the field. From a livestock-judging area, the lowing of cattle and the fractious bleat of goats and sheep carried over the swirling crowd. Big Tom pressed a quarter into my palm. “Advance on your wages,” he rumbled. I thanked him and pocketed the money, knowing I wouldn’t be spending it on cotton candy or popcorn. I’d need to save every penny I got to buy my and Lilah’s tickets back north.
“Y’all have a big time,” Hettie said. She squared her shoulders, then marched proudly away to enter her wares in the contest, while Big Tom drifted off to watch Clydesdales in a plow-pulling competition.
“She’s won three years in a row for her pickles,” Abel noted. “They’re always just the right amount of sour and sweet. Sort of like Aunt Hettie herself.”
I only nodded in reply, looking away. Abel rubbed the back of his neck. We stood in a pocket of uneasy quiet. He stared off toward the far edge of the field, where a horse race was underway. Standing atop square hay bales, fans shouted their encouragement to a roan stallion making a come-from-behind charge at the black horse in the lead. A jubilant shout went up when the roan nosed his way to the win at the last second.
“Look, Verity,” Abel began, “we got off to a rough start, and I’m to blame. I didn’t mean to offend you that day in the barn. I’m sorry.”
“Maybe I was a little touchy,” I said, knowing full well I had been. But I found I couldn’t make myself outright say I was sorry. Not to Abel. “I accept your apology.” My lukewarm response earned a confused frown. Surely he hadn’t expected us to become bosom friends. I had a feeling Abel Atchley had all the close female friends he needed, and then some.
I crossed my arms and began looking around for Lilah. Instead, I saw Della Loftis sweeping toward us.
“Abel! Verity!” A high lace collar accented her pretty, round face, and her dress was a deep periwinkle dimity to match the silk flowers on her hat.
Jasper and a girl I didn’t recognize walked on either side of her. Matching sandy hair, gray eyes, and lanky forms marked them as brother and sister. Jasper loped along with loose-limbed ease, but the girl, dressed in a simple dark skirt and pin-tucked ivory blouse, carried herself as though she had a fireplace poker down her corset.
“I’m so glad you could come today, Verity.” Della snatched me into a quick, unexpected hug. “This is my friend, Katherine Ausbrooks.”
Katherine inclined her head, and I got the impression she was trying to appear dignified. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The words were kind enough, but her tone and the look she darted at me, standing there beside Abel, were anything but. “Abel’s told us so much about you.”