The Storekeeper

  THE STOREKEEPER

  J. M. Davis

  Published by J. M. Davis at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2015 by J. M. Davis

  Cover Design by Fury Cover Design

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.co or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Discover other titles by J. M. Davis

  Portrait of Conspiracy

  As Tough As They Come

  A Woman To Die For

  Murder And Mayham

  The Ghost of Leonard Korn

  No Tears For Jack

  The Durley Incident

  Prom Friday

  Dedication

  To my wonderful wife, our two amazing children, and our grandchildren.

  Table of Contents

  THE STOREKEEPER

  About the author

  Excerpt: PORTRAIT OF CONSPIRACY

  THE STOREKEEPER

  Tom Carland stared at the slosh and hesitated before stepping from the stage coach onto the muddy street in his new boots. Why anyone would ever think they could find their fortune in a small town out west puzzled him even more than it had two years earlier when his uncle tried to convince him to leave the city life back east and head west with him. A one-street town with no more than twenty buildings situated along both sides of the road couldn’t have much to offer.

  “Here’s your gear,” the driver said.

  He took the bag from the man. “Sir, could you help me? I’m here to see Seth Carland. Would you be able to tell me where I could find him?”

  A frown formed on the driver’s face.

  Perplexed by the man’s silence, Tom said, “This being such a small place, I assumed you might have heard of him.”

  “Everybody around these parts knew Seth.” He removed a red bandanna from around his neck and wiped his face. “I reckon he was one of the finest fellers I ever met.”

  Before he could ask the driver what he meant by was, the man continued.

  “You’re too late, young fella. Seth was buried last week.”

  The shock caused him to drop his bag onto the mud. He tried to get his breath, while his heart grew heavy with grief.

  Minutes later, he walked toward the other end of town, following the directions the driver had given him. Along the way he was appalled at the slapdash construction of some of the buildings. A few of the structures were unpainted or only painted on the front side. Arriving at a small house that had a makeshift hand painted sign above the entrance, he knocked on the door. He introduced himself and explained his reason for being there.

  The town’s doctor invited him inside so he could explain what happened to his uncle.

  “Seth walked in here one day complaining of back pain. He thought it was from work. I gave him a potion to rub on his back, but the pain kept getting worse. Six weeks later, his lower back was a hurting him so bad Seth couldn’t stand straight. There was nothing I could do for him, except give him laudanum. He told me he’d sent word back east to his only living relative. Said he figured his time was short.”

  Tom shook his head. “I received his message, but there was no mention in it he thought he was dying or that he was even ill. He wrote he needed my help and to come as soon as possible. I dropped everything and booked passage on the next train out.”

  The man stood and moved to a small desk located in one corner of the room. He removed some items from one of the drawers. The Doc stepped back toward him and held them out.

  “He figured you’d come. Seth signed his property over to you and wanted me to give you these. ”

  On top of what appeared to be a ledger, was a personal note from his uncle. He took the documents from the doctor’s hand and read the message.

  My dearest Tom,

  Good folks live in these parts. Take time to get to know them before you make a decision to go back to New York City. It was signed Uncle Seth.

  Why would his uncle have wanted him to stay here? He looked up from the note and gazed at the Doc.

  The man settled back into a chair across from him. “About a year and a half back, Seth established a general merchandise store, the only one around for forty miles. There’s a room above it where he lived. You’ll find his personal items there. The store is open. When he could no longer serve his customers, he kept the place unlocked so they could go inside and pick out what they needed.”

  Tom thanked the doctor and left. After making his way down the street to his uncle’s place of business, he stopped before crossing the street and studied the front of the building. GENERAL MERCHANDISE STORE, at least his uncle had a decent looking sign above the doorway. He stepped onto the wooden porch and kicked the dried mud from his boots before approaching the entrance. Finding the door unlocked, he stepped inside. Several of the shelves were bare. At the rear was a counter that had several pieces of paper lined up on top of it. They were lists items taken by people. Each person had signed their name along with the amount they owed for the goods taken. The stairway to his left had to lead to his uncle’s room.

  He gathered up the pieces of paper. Once inside the room upstairs, he found a bed, a small desk, chair, and a round table that held a wash bowl along with a pitcher for water. In one area of the room was a wardrobe for clothes. He dropped his bag on the floor and set the documents on the desk. Food felt like a priority having not eaten anything since leaving the train station earlier that morning. He leaned out a window and surveyed the buildings across the way and decided to inquire at the only hotel in town.

  After stepping through the entrance, he approached an older woman, who was wearing an apron.

  “Ma’am, my name is Tom Carland. Would you be so kind to tell me where I can find a dining establishment in this town?”

  “You the one people been talking about. The Lord don’t make many like Seth, biggest heart on a man I ever met. He took his meals here every day of the week. Your uncle Seth could talk the ears off an elephant.” She smiled. “He used to say the same thing about me. I sure do miss that man.”

  ‘Thank you, Ma’am.”

  “Right this way.”

  The woman led him down a short hallway to a room on the backside of the building. There were three square tables made from rough sawed lumber, each surrounded by four straight back chairs.

  “Tonight I have chicken soup with fresh bread.”

  He nodded. “Yes, that sounds fine.”

  She turned to leave.

  “Wait, may I have your name?”

  “Martha, but people around here call me Ma, cause I treat ‘em likes they’s mine. I’ll get your soup. Will you be needin’ a room?”

  “No ma’am.”

  Her chin drooped.

  “I will be needing breakfast tomorrow, if you’re serving.”

  She lifted her head up. “I got biscuits, gravy, and hot coffee here every morning for two bits.”

  “That sounds mighty good, Ma’am.”

  After finishing his dinner, he returned to the room above the store, and proceeded to study the ledger. His uncle had allowed many of his customers to use credit. Most had paid their debt while a few had not. In one case, it appeared the person had never paid even once on her account. He read the note written beside the custom
er’s name.

  Mrs. Hamby has promised to settle her debt upon the sale of her late husband’s farm, but I cannot find it within my heart to take money from a widow supporting a young child, for I have great fear their small farm will not bring much.

  According to the balance sheet entries, his uncle had been able to make a living from the store, at least enough to support one person in a reasonable fashion. But his future was back east as an accountant for a large bank. If he worked hard, in a few years, his employer might pay him twenty or possibly even twenty-five times what his uncle had been making from the store. Besides, who would want to live in a place like this? The stage ran weekly. He would leave on the next one that would take him to Larson, where he could board the train back to New York City.

  The next morning, he entered the hotel dining room. Martha was serving two men, dressed like ranch hands, at one of the tables.

  She looked up. “Take a chair, Tom. I’ll bring your food right out.”

  He pulled a chair back and sat in it.

  One of the customers, the man facing him, nodded. The other man turned around.

  “Martha told us you were in town. I’m Floyd Barnes, and this is my brother, Lewis. We got a small spread outside of town, run a few cattle. We knew Seth. It was a shame him dying like that.”

  “Thank you.”

  Martha brought him a plate of food and set a cup on the table. She grabbed a pot from the counter and filled it.

  The aroma of fresh baked biscuits and coffee filled the room.

  He took in a deep breath. “Smells good.”

  “I hope you’ll be takin’ your meals here regular.”

  After finishing off the breakfast, he paid Martha, and headed back to the store. Before he could make his way up the stairs to his uncle’s room, a woman entered the place of business.

  “Mr. Carland?”

  “Yes, I am Tom Carland.”

  “My name is Harriet Hamby. This is my daughter, Katie.”

  He nodded at the little girl who stood by her mother’s side. The child said nothing, but stared at him.

  “Folks told me you were in town. I came to tell you how sorry we all are for the loss of your uncle.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hamby. I regret deeply I did not arrive in time to see my Uncle Seth before his death. That’s a great weight upon me, which I no doubt will bear for life.”

  “Your uncle had been so kind to extend me credit in my time of need. I have received an offer for our farm two miles west from here.” She pointed. “I have come to pay my debt.”

  After retrieving several coins and one paper bill from a small black cloth handbag, she laid the money on top of the counter.

  The young widow with red hair was strikingly beautiful. Her worn black dress took nothing away from her attractiveness. She must have married at a very young age. He had assumed the widow his uncle had referred to in the ledger to have been much older than the woman standing before him. He could barely take his eyes from her. Forcing himself to stop staring, he glanced at the money on the counter.

  “As far as I am concerned, you have no debt to settle with me.” He pushed it back toward her.

  His gesture of good will appeared to offend her. Her expression changed as well as her tone.

  “Your uncle was too much of a gentleman to have treated me in this manner. I do not wish to be pitied by you, Mr. Carland.”

  She grabbed her daughter’s hand and left the store.

  What had he done to upset her so? He had only carried out his uncle’s wishes not to take money from a widow with a young child. Women were sure hard to figure out.

  During the next few days, many of the people who had left notes on the store counter came into the store and settled their accounts. Each and every one of them spoke highly of his late uncle. By the end of the week, he had received a total of five dollars and thirty-eight cents, including the dollar and eighty cents left by the widow days earlier.

  He went to the stage depot, hoping to find someone there. It remained unmanned except for the day before the stage was due to arrive.

  “I am here to book passage on the stage to Larson. Will it be leaving tomorrow?”

  The man nodded, “Yep, that’ll be four bits, mister.”

  He paid the man, who took the money and turned away from him.

  Tom began to walk away and then realized the man had not written his name down or even asked for it.

  “I can’t stay here another week. I must leave tomorrow.”

  The man looked up. “I reckon there won’t be a problem you gettin’ on the stage, you being the only passenger leaving out.”

  “My name is Tom Carland.”

  “Yep, everybody in town knows your name, son.”

  Satisfied he had secured passage out of town the next day, he made his way down the street. He stepped inside the hotel, found the dining room, and ordered a plate of food.

  Soon after his food was served, he overheard two women, seated at a table near him, talking about some unfortunate person. He didn’t pay attention to their conversation, until one of the women mentioned the name Harriet.

  “That poor girl should have known better than to believe some fast talking fancy pants traveling through town. I bet that scoundrel had no intentions of ever following through on his offer to buy her farm.”

  He placed his fork down and leaned forward a bit in their direction.

  The other woman said, “It’s a good thing she found that fellow out before she…” Both women glanced at him. The woman leaned forward and whispered.

  Embarrassed he’d been caught trying to listen to their private conversation; he tossed four coins on top of the table and left the hotel. After arriving at the livery stable at the end of the street, he spoke with Sam, the blacksmith and stable owner. Sam had already been to the store to pay his tab, him being one of the town’s folks who had left a promissory note on the counter.

  “I need to rent a horse and buggy.”

  A few minutes later he was headed west out of town. Sam had given him directions to the widow’s farm house and a description of it, a two room dwelling in need of repairs.

  When he arrived, he almost didn’t recognize the woman working in the garden, which ran the length of the house and then extended farther back behind it. If it had not been for her daughter Katie nearby, he would have assumed the person to have been a hired hand, from the looks of the clothing and the dirt on her face. He raised his voice while approaching her.

  “Mrs. Hamby, I apologize for this intrusion.”

  Startled, she straightened up allowing the hoe she had been using to fall to the ground. She rubbed her hands on her work dress, and then wiped her face with a rag she removed from a pocket.

  “Mr. Carland, you shouldn’t be here.”

  Katie ran to her side.

  Her tone indicated she was more angry than curious about his presence.

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come without an invitation. I hope you will find it within your heart to forgive me.”

  She stared at him.

  “I was wondering if you would consider helping me. You see I don’t know anything about running a general store and—”

  “No, I cannot help you.”

  “I would be willing to pay you a fair wage. I need to get the shelves restocked properly, and then I might be able to pay more, enough for you and Katie to live on.”

  “Mr. Carland, we all know you are leaving town tomorrow.”

  Apparently, news of his departure had traveled fast. “I’ve changed my mind about leaving.”

  “I’m afraid I would be of no help to you.” She reached down and picked up the hoe.

  Based on what the women in the dining room had said, the widow was desperate. He understood why she would be skeptical of his offer. In an attempt to reassure her he was not a scoundrel, he said, “Mrs. Hamby, I am a man of integrity. I assure you my intentions are honorable.”

  She didn’t respond and began worki
ng the ground again, leaving him no choice but to climb back into the buggy and return to town. On the ride back, he couldn’t stop thinking about the widow. She sure was different than any of the women he’d met in the city. The woman had enough pride for ten city women and was more independent than most men, but if she didn’t want his help, there was nothing more he could do.

  The next day, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun had baked the streets dry by the time the horses passed in front of the store. He leaned out of the upstairs window. The stage was two hours late. Tom carried his bag downstairs. The driver took his meal at the hotel, while a fresh team of horses were harnessed up. While he waited, all he could think about was the widow and her young daughter. What would happen to them? The stage left two hours late. The driver drove his team through the middle of the town, stirring up dust along its path.

  Tom stepped back inside the general store, his bag in hand. He could always catch the stage out next week.

  Moments later, a voice behind him said, “Mr. Carland.”

  Before turning around, he tried to contain his excitement.

  Harriet was wearing the same black dress she had worn the first time she had entered his store. He guessed it might be only non-work dress she owned. Katie was by her side.

  “If your offer still stands, I’d be willing to give it a try.”

  Before he could answer her, she added, “Katie has to be part of the deal.”

  “I would not have it any other way.” He reached for a jar and offered the little girl a sugar stick. “Here is your first payment in advance, little lady.”

  She looked up at her mother, appearing to be awaiting approval.

  Harriet nodded, and Katie removed a stick from the jar.

  Over the following months, Harriet handled the female customers while he handled the others. He had learned how to order new supplies, including women’s dresses from Boston and New York City. It had taken some doing convincing Harriet that wearing one of the new dresses might help drum up business from the other women in town. She selected a pretty green dress with white lace and matching hat. She received so many compliments from folks in town, before long, she’d taken orders for four fancy styled dresses from back east. Even a few ranch hands came into town and purchased wide brim hats and work clothing.