The way her delicate chin jutted forward, Roen knew she was daring him to lie to her. He didn’t. “There was only one woman in my applied mathematics class at the Institute and only a handful in the general student population.”

  “So you take those impoverished numbers as evidence that women do not possess the aptitude for mathematics when it is more likely that what they lack is opportunity.”

  “I won’t make that error in judgment again.” He paused a beat, and because he couldn’t seem to help himself, he added on a dry note, “Not in your presence at any rate.”

  One corner of Lily’s mouth lifted in a scornful smile. “Did you mean for me to hear that?”

  “I suppose I did, since I said it.”

  “Are you reckoned to be a wit back in New York?” she asked pointedly. “Or a half-wit?”

  “The latter,” he said without hesitation. “I accept it.”

  The other corner of Lily’s mouth tilted upward, and scorn was no longer there in the shape of her lips.

  “You ought not to look amused,” he said. “I am not to be encouraged. Everyone in my family says so.”

  “Indeed, you are not.”

  Roen watched her primly set her lips. It should have put him off, but the effect of that butter-wouldn’t-melt mouth was incongruent with the gleam in her eye. He preferred to study the gleam and, for once, ignore her mouth.

  “It’s you, then, who has a head for figures,” he said.

  “Yes. And little opportunity to advance my learning.” She said this without heat or bitterness. It was merely a statement of fact.

  “And if you had the opportunity?”

  Lily shook her head and waved the question aside without answering.

  “Mrs. Salt?” he asked. “If you had the opportunity?”

  “I save my dreams for my children,” she said quietly. “I have lots of reasons to hope there.”

  Roen guessed she was already regretting saying as much as she did because her eyes slid sideways and she stirred uncomfortably in the rocker. Fearing she would put him out before the matter of Clay’s job was settled, he did not press the question again.

  To that end, he asked, “Do I have your permission to propose the job to Clay?”

  “I’d like some time to think it over.”

  At least she was not saying no out of hand. Roen took that as a very good sign. “How much time do you need?”

  “I’ll send a note round to your house tomorrow. There’s no call for you to come here.”

  He was disappointed, but upon reflection he realized he should have expected that she would not invite him back. “Of course. If you agree, where should I discuss this with Clay?”

  “If I agree, Mr. Shepard, I’ll send Clay with the note. If not, it will be Hannah at your door.”

  So either way, he could anticipate a visit before the headmaster rang the school bell. “Very good,” he said. He swept his hat off the table and started to rise.

  “Another moment, if you will,” said Lily.

  Roen sat.

  “When would you want Clay to begin?”

  “The day after tomorrow, if that’s agreeable to both of you.” He thought she would ask about compensation, and he waited for the question. When she didn’t, he told her what he was prepared to offer for a day’s wage.

  “That’s between you and Clay,” she said. “And don’t assume he will accept your offer out of the gate. He negotiates all the time with Ben. Every cent is dear to him, and what he doesn’t insist that I accept, he saves. My son has an account at the bank, and Mr. Washburn, the manager, told me he’s the youngest customer he’s ever had.”

  It was not a boast that Roen heard but a mother’s rightful pride. “Is he saving for something specific?”

  “I’m not sure. He doesn’t say. It doesn’t matter, though, because it’s his money.”

  Lizzie looked up from her cards. “Sometimes Clay buys candy for me, and once he bought me a pink ribbon for my hair.”

  “Then he’s a good brother,” said Roen.

  Lizzie nodded. “He saved Ham in the fire. He tried to save me and Hannah, but then Sheriff Ben saved him and us.”

  One of Lily’s hands snaked out and touched her daughter’s head. Roen had no difficulty recognizing the gesture as a caution.

  Lizzie screwed her bow-shaped mouth to one side and ducked out from under Lily’s palm. “Everyone knows,” she said in protest of the warning. “Mrs. Springer tells everyone our business. You said so.”

  Lily withdrew her hand. “And did I not also say you don’t need to repeat everything you hear . . . or overhear?”

  Lizzie’s capitulation came with an audible sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll know you mean it if you remember it.”

  “I’ll remember if we talk about it sometimes.” In an aside to Roen, she said, “We never talk about it.”

  Roen said nothing.

  Neither did Lily. Her hand returned to the rocker arm, and her grip was white-knuckled.

  Roen stood, and this time Lily did not stop him. “I’ll wait for your decision tomorrow. Thank you for hearing me out, Mrs. Salt. Good day, Lizzie.”

  Lily acknowledged his final words with a brief nod and nudged Lizzie to show him to the door. She heard him thank Lizzie and then he was gone. Lily reached for the seam ripper on the side table and bent her head to the work in her lap. It was a clear signal to Lizzie that there would be no talking about it now either.

  Chapter Five

  Roen was drinking coffee at the kitchen table when the knock he was expecting finally came. He was tempted to look out the window to see who was standing on the porch, whether it was Clay or Hannah, but he went straight to the door instead. He was still questioning the wisdom of putting his job proposal to Clay. Perhaps it would be better if it were Hannah waiting for him. That would be the end of it. Full stop.

  The odd but undeniable attraction he felt toward Lily Salt would remain just as it was: a curiosity.

  Roen opened the door. He had a glimpse of Clay’s palpable excitement before the boy stopped shifting his weight from side to side and came to soldierlike attention.

  “Ma said I should come here before school, that you were expecting me.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “Uh-huh. You got maybe something for me to do? Like Sheriff Ben does? That’s what I’m figuring. I told her that’s probably what it was, but she never said one way or another. Silent as a spinx about it.”

  “Sphinx,” said Roen. “Silent as a sphinx.”

  “Yeah, sure. One of those.”

  “Exactly.” Roen looked over the top of Clay’s head in the direction of the schoolhouse. “Do you have a few minutes before the bell?” When Clay nodded, Roen invited him inside. “This way. I was having coffee in the kitchen. Did you have breakfast?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” Roen led the way through the parlor and his office to the kitchen at the back of the house. He pointed to the chair at a right angle to the one he took. His coffee was cooling quickly and he wrapped his hands around the mug and drank before he spoke. “I was going to suggest that we talk at the library after your school day is finished, but I suspect you won’t be able to concentrate if you don’t know something now.”

  “That’s a fact,” said Clay. “I sure do appreciate you suspicioning that.”

  Roen hid his grin behind the mug and lowered it only when he was sure he could school his features. “Yes, well, we are not so different that way.” He observed that Clay seemed pleased to hear it. Roen was not so sure that it was a compliment to either of them, but he did not point this out. “Here’s what I’m proposing, Clay. I want to hire you as my assistant. My odd jobber, if you will. You’ll work for me mostly when school’s out but there’ll be occasions when you will have to miss class. That’s missing class, not missing classwork. There will be plenty of that, and you’ll have to keep up with all of it.”

  “You talked to my ma, didn’t you? That classwork is her idea. Sounds like what she would say.”

  “I did speak to your mother, and she was clear about your education being important. I agree with her. I’m not hiring ignorance. You learn, or you leave.” Roen didn’t have to ask if Clay understood. The boy swallowed hard as he nodded his agreement. “Good. There are a number of ways you can be of help to me.” He listed the requirements as he had explained them to Lily, this time ticking them off on his fingers. Not only did he have Clay’s full attention, but it also seemed that the boy was committing every tick to memory. When he’d finished, he asked, “Do you think you can do all that?”

  There was no hesitation. “Yes, sir, though I admit that it’s got me baffled some that you think I can.”

  “Let’s just say you made a good first impression.”

  “Huh. That’s interestin’. Ma says that first impressions count for something. I guess I never figured how true that was seein’ as how I get so few chances to make a first impression. What I mean is, darn near everyone in Frost Falls knows me already.”

  Roen chuckled. “They’ve known you since the cradle. Is that it?”

  “Yep. Bald and wrinkled and red in the face. There’s probably some that still see me that way.”

  “It’s a cross we all bear.”

  Clay regarded Roen suspiciously. “Are you funnin’ with me now?”

  “A little.”

  Clay thought about that. “I reckon it’s okay as long as I know it and you don’t mind me funnin’ with you now and again.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Nodding gravely, Clay said, “Sheriff Ben doesn’t mind either. I guess I wouldn’t want to work for someone who minded.” He added quickly, “Not that I wouldn’t, you understand, just that I wouldn’t want to.”

  “I understand. Then it’s settled? You’re going to work for me?”

  Clay sat up a little straighter in his chair and placed his folded hands on the table. “I sure want to, Mr. Shepard, but we have to talk wages. I’d be disappointed in myself if I didn’t mention it.”

  “I’d be disappointed in you, too.” He told Clay what his daily earnings would be regardless of the number of hours. “That’s for the first month. You show me that you can do what I think you can, and I’ll double that.”

  Clay stared at him. “I don’t feel right not telling you that you’re offering me a man’s pay.”

  “I know what I’m offering. I hope I know what I’m getting. Just the same, it’s probably wise not to tell anyone.”

  “Sure, and I won’t. Don’t want to give folks cause to think you’re foolish.”

  Roen almost choked as he swallowed the last of his coffee. He set the mug down. “No, we don’t want that. Thank you.”

  Clay cocked his head toward the front of the house. “D’you hear that? School bell.” He pushed his chair away from the table, stood, and then suddenly sat again. “Are we done?”

  “Yes.”

  Clay jumped to his feet. “I sure am grateful, Mr. Shepard. You won’t be sorry.”

  “I don’t believe I will.” Roen expected the boy to go then, but Clay took only a single step backward before he stopped. “Is there something else?” asked Roen. Clearly there was something niggling at the boy. “Go on. What is it?”

  Clay’s shoulders rose and fell on the breath he took in and slowly released. Still, he spoke in a rush. “Do you like my mother?”

  “What?” Roen had heard the question but he hardly understood it. “How’s that again?”

  This time each word was carefully enunciated. “Do you like my mother?”

  “Yes. I like her fine.”

  Clay shook his head. “Hard to find a person who doesn’t like her. What I want to know is if you like her.”

  “I think what you want to know is whether I offered you the job because of your mother.”

  He considered that. “No. That’s not it. I want to know if you like her. I don’t think she made a good first impression, but I still have to wonder.”

  Roen’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Why did you invite me to dinner, Clay?”

  Clay was spared an immediate reply because the schoolmaster rang the bell again. “I should go.”

  “You should answer my question. Let me help you out. Did you invite me to dinner so I could meet your mother?”

  Shrugging, Clay said, “Hannah said it was the only way to make an introduction. It was her idea. You can ask her. She’s been conjugating on the idea since you bought her and Lizzie that bag of candy at Hennepin’s.”

  “Cogitating.”

  “What?”

  “She’s been cogitating . . . never mind. Has Hannah encouraged you to do something like this before? Maybe with a traveling salesman or a whiskey drummer? Maybe with another railroad front man?”

  Clay stared, jaw sagging. “You know about them?”

  Roen hedged. “I may have heard something.”

  “Mrs. Springer, I bet. Well, Ben ran them off, or my mother did, and not one of them was Hannah’s idea. Mine neither. In fact, it’s on account of men passing through, trying to take up with our ma, that Hannah thought she should do something. If you’re known to be on the trail, it’d keep others away.”

  Roen felt as if his own jaw might sag. “That’s your plan?”

  “Like I said, more Hannah’s plan.”

  “Good Lord.”

  “Uh-huh. She’s somethin’.”

  “Somethin’.”

  “Can I go?”

  Roen held up an index finger. “In a moment. Why me? Hannah didn’t hatch this scheme solely because I bought her horehound drops and licorice whips.”

  “No, sir. You’re right about that. She hatched it when she saw you in church. She liked your profile, at least that’s what she told me. I don’t see it myself, but then you can hardly expect that I would. Nobility in your profile, she said. Especially your nose.” Clay squinted as he studied Roen’s nose. “I guess I see that.”

  Roen had an urge to run his index finger down the bridge of his nose. Long and downward sloping at the tip, it was yet another feature that distinguished him from the rest of his family. His mother had remarked on more than one occasion that it was a nose that belonged on a coin. He did not thank her for the observation.

  “And then there was the fact that she saw you in church,” Clay said. “None of those other fellows ever went to church, and I think one of them might have been Catholic.” He added this last in hushed accents as if imparting a terrible secret. “Can’t say for sure.”

  “Then perhaps you shouldn’t say at all.”

  Admonished, Clay shifted from foot to foot.

  Roen took pity on him. “Go on. Go. We’ll talk again after school. Chores first.” He watched Clay flee the kitchen and braced himself for the sound of the front door being slammed in the wake of the boy’s haste. Instead, he heard it being quietly closed. Roen smiled. “I’ll be darned.”

  Chapter Six

  Roen stepped aside and held the door to allow a woman to exit the sheriff’s office before he entered. It was only when a little yellow-haired girl squeezed herself out between the doorframe and her mother’s skirts that Roen recognized that the woman was Lily Salt. She was wearing a straw boater pitched at a forward angle so that it shaded her eyes. It was the same hat she wore to church, but on this occasion, she’d embellished it with a yellow ribbon band and a spray of delicate blue wildflowers that he thought were forget-me-nots.

  Keeping the door open with a foot, he tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Salt.”

  Lily looked up, startled. “Oh. It’s you. Forgive me. I was woolgathering.” She touched the top of Lizzie’s head. “It’s Mr. Shepard, Lizzie. Say hello.”

  Lizzie was already beaming. “I saw him right away, Mama. Hello!”

  “Hello, Lizzie. You’re looking very fine today. Is that a new dress?”

  She twirled like a top, showing off her apple green dress with the miniature bustle in the back. “It was Hannah’s dress first but Mama cut it down and made it all new for me. I love it.” She hugged Lily’s legs and thus prevented any forward movement.

  Lily’s tentative smile was apologetic. “Lizzie, I can’t take a step. Mr. Shepard must have business here and we’re keeping him from it.”

  “I do, but it can wait. I’d rather escort two lovely ladies to the drugstore for a fountain drink.”

  “That’s kind of you.” Her narrowed blue-green eyes said it was unfair of him. “I must decline. Lizzie and I are on our way to Mrs. Fish’s to pick up a pattern and material. It’s my job, Mr. Shepard.”

  Roen heard what she didn’t say. Something along the lines of, I’m doing my job, why aren’t you doing yours? Still thinking about what Clay had told him that morning, he discovered he had just enough rascal in him to persevere. “We’ll pass the dress shop on our way back.”

  “Need I point out that we’ll come to it before Mangold’s drugstore?”

  “Huh. How about that.”

  “Mama?” Lizzie’s hugged her mother’s legs a little tighter. “I would surely like a fizzy drink.”

  Roen held up his hands as though the gesture could absolve him of responsibility. He knew the moment Lily relented because her lips parted and she blew out a shallow breath. He grinned.

  “You understand I am not amused.”

  “I understand.” Roen couldn’t rein in his grin, and when it deepened, a small dimple on the left side of his mouth was revealed. He did not miss that her gaze dropped to it. He didn’t know why women found it fascinating; some were moved to comment on it, others to touch it. Most recently that woman was Victorine Headley, but as she began to take a proprietary interest in his dimple, Roen found fewer and fewer reasons to smile. Thinking about Victorine was a sure way to sour his mood, so he stopped and gave all his attention to the woman with an expression that could best be described as mulish. “We should go.” He held out a hand to Lizzie, and the child immediately released her mother’s legs and put her fingers against his palm. “See? That’s much better.” He reversed direction and escorted Lizzie forward, leaving Lily little choice but to follow. It was only a few steps before she came abreast of them.