MY TOMORROW Chapters 14-16.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

While Elijah carefully examined Lillian, Zimri brought his wagon close. "It looks like a clean break on her ankle, let's get her to the house and make sure she's comfortable so I can further assess the problem." Horace stood beside Elijah as Zimri approached.

"Easy now," Elijah instructed, crouching beside Lillian. Together, the three men settled her onto the bed of the wagon.

"My ribbon!" Lillian cried, trying to raise herself from her position on the wagon.

"I've got it right here, Sister!" Florence placed the shiny blue prized ribbon in Lillian's hands.

Zimri guided the horses toward the house. Lillian stifled a groan, her hand clutching Florence's arm with surprising strength. "You're doing fine, Lil," Florence reassured her, her tone warm and caring like a mother hen.

At the house, Sarah Ann hurried to prepare a makeshift bed on the couch with fresh, clean white sheets gathered from the clothesline the day before. She fluffed pillows for her sister and by the time Lillian came into the house, her resting place was ready.

Sarah Ann and Zimri, Florence, Horace, and Sadie stood around Lillian as Elijah examined her from the fall. Worry pierced the room like a burgeoning balloon about to pop. Florence sniffed into her handkerchief, stifling the sorrow inside. Sarah Ann stood stoically beside Florence with an arm around her sister's middle, praying that her strength infused her worried sister, while Horace assessed his aunt's small body lying on the settee. The sheets smelled like the summer sunshine and pillows cradled Lillian's gray head.

"It's a clean break," Elijah said, wrapping Lillian's right ankle, his voice steady despite the severity of the situation. "And the lump on her head will need to be watched closely. She will likely be sore and bruised by this evening." The lump was more significant than a small egg, turning purple and black.

"Any complaints?" Horace bent to Lillian and asked, his voice calm and low. He gazed lovingly at his aunt, his eyes moist with unshed tears.

Lillian raised a small hand to her forehead and breathed, "Headache."

Elijah nodded to the group and handed Florence a list of instructions. "I've given her aspirin. Keep her leg elevated and apply cool compresses to that lump. If she feels dizzy or confused, send for me immediately."

Lillian opened her eyes and reached out to grasp Elijah's hand. "Thank you, Lige." her voice was weary but grateful.

Elijah offered a faint smile, his fingers briefly squeezing hers. "Rest now, Aunt Lillian. I'll check on you in the morning before I open the office." He looked up at his family gathered around the elderly member. "If you need anything, come get me at once."

Satisfied that she was as comfortable as possible, Elijah excused himself, his bag in hand. He paused at the doorway for one last glance, his eyes meeting his father's. "I'll see you later."

With that, he stepped out into the warm afternoon, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. As he returned to the picnic grounds, the jarring thrum of cicadas in the trees greeted him, his thoughts already turning to the next challenge ahead.

Elijah spotted Andrew folding a quilt while juggling toys and a picnic basket. Determined, he quickened his step. "I hate to interrupt, Andrew," Elijah caught his friend's attention, "but I need your help with something urgent. Can we talk?"

Andrew paused, his arms full but his expression open. "Caroline's not feeling well, so I sent her and Brady home. What's going on?" he pushed his brown cowboy hat off his forehead, exposing a sheen of sweat on his brow.

Elijah glanced around to ensure no one was within earshot, then leaned in slightly. "You know as well as I do those crickets didn't just find their way into Sadie's picnic basket by accident. I haven't said anything until now, but there's more to this. Last week, Sadie got tangled in barbed wire—badly. I found her in time, or it could've been serious. And now her notes about some of the kids are missing from her desk drawer, and the lesson plan book is gone!"

Andrew's brow furrowed, his forehead creasing deeply. "What are you getting at, Lige?"

Elija's voice hardened, frustration evident. "Someone's trying to scare Sadie, maybe even drive her out of town. And I think it's my sister."

Andrew's eyes widened, and his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the words settled directly on him. "Caroline? Why on earth would she steal from school? And to do something like the barbed wire? What's her motive?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Elijah felt the tension increase. "You don't know her like I do. Caroline's always been vindictive. After my parents chose Caroline over Sadie and adopted her, she showed her true colors—jealousy, manipulation, and always stirring up trouble. She thrived on pitting me against my father. And Sadie? Caroline hated her at the orphanage in Indiana. She made Sadie's life miserable back then, and now that Sadie's here, I think she's at it again."

Andrew shook his head slowly, disbelief written across his countenance. "But to go this far? Barbed wire? What if one of the kids had gotten tangled in it, and no one found them in time?"

"Exactly," Elijah nodded grimly. "This isn't just a petty grudge. It's dangerous. Someone could've been seriously hurt. I'm worried about what might happen next."

Andrew exhaled sharply, adjusting his hold on the quilt. "What do you want to do about it?"

"I'm going to the house to talk to Mother. I have a feeling she's involved in this, working with Caroline. I need answers, Andrew. Meanwhile, can you keep an eye out for anything unusual? Caroline might be working with someone else."

"You do realize Caroline's about to have that baby any day now? How could she possibly be behind all this in her condition?"

Elijah's lips pressed into a thin line. "I've thought about that. But if she has help, it's possible."

Andrew considered his words, then gave a slow nod. "You're right. I'll start watching and have my eyes and ears peeled around town. I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks, Andrew," Elijah clapped a hand on Andrew's shoulder. “This means a lot."

As they parted ways, Elijah's thoughts churned, his resolve firm. Whatever the truth, he would uncover it and make sure no one else got hurt.

***

Upon stepping into the house, Elijah immediately noticed the silence. It was an unusual stillness, as if the air was holding its breath. Passing through the parlor, he glanced at the dining room table, where his mother's summer shawl lay draped beside the picnic basket. He frowned, continuing into the kitchen, where faint traces of the morning's cooking lingered. Ah, Mother is home. Probably lying down.

The staircase loomed ahead, curving upward toward the bedrooms. He hesitated only briefly before climbing, his resolve tightening with every step. As much as he hated disturbing her, this conversation could not wait.

At his parents’ bedroom door, he heard his mother speaking softly. Putting an ear to the wood, he listened. Sue Ellen was talking, but there were no other voices. Was she talking to herself? She spoke so low that Elijah couldn't make out her words.

Knocking softly, he called out, "It's Lige."

There was instant silence. Then, with a faint voice tinged with weariness, Sue Ellen said, "Come in…"

When he stepped inside, he found Sue Ellen sprawled on the bed, one shoe off and the other dangling precariously from her foot. Her head rested against two pillows, and she clutched a handkerchief in one hand, dabbing at tear-streaked cheeks. A thin pale-yellow sheet was drawn over her, despite the summer heat.

"Son…" she murmured, her voice hoarse and heavy with emotion. "What are you doing here?" She shifted slightly, then sighed. "Forgive me, I'm not feeling well. The heat…it's overwhelmed me again."

Elijah looked around the room. Sue Ellen was alone. She had been talking to herself. His jaw tightened. He had witnessed this performance too many times to count. Though part of him sympathized with his mother's fragility, he knew she wielded her supposed ailments like a shield. Determined not to let her divert him, he pulled a chair to the bedside.

"Mother," he said evenly, "I'm here to talk to you."

Sue Ellen's hand fluttered to her forehead in a dramatic gesture. "Elijah, please. My head is pounding, my eyes are burning, and my heart…" She paused for effect, her voice catching. "My heart is breaking."

"Lay back," Elijah said firmly. You don't need to do anything but listen. This won't take long."

Her red-tinted eyes popped open, her lips thinning into a sharp line. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice suddenly sharp.

He arched a dark brow. "Proving a point." Leaning forward, he locked his angry gaze on her. I know you and Caroline are working together to drive Sadie out of town."

Sue Ellen froze, and the rise and fall of her ample chest were the only movements. Elijah waited for her to explode with indignation, but she merely stared at him, her expression unreadable.

"I resent it, Mother," he continued, his voice gaining an edge. "And I'm demanding that it stop. Because if it doesn't, I'll take drastic measures."

The door creaked open, and Horace entered, his cane tapping softly against the wood flooring. His dark eyes darted between his wife and son, his shaggy brow furrowing. "What's all this? What do you resent, Elijah, and what's your mother supposed to stop?"

Elijah shot up, straightening to meet his father's long gaze. "I'm glad you're here. Please sit down. This way, Mother won't have the opportunity to twist my words later."

Sue Ellen glared at her son with wild eyes. "How dare you speak to me this way, Elijah John Brownstone! Horace, make him stop this instant!" Her voice rose, frantic, her fists gripping the sheet as if to anchor herself.

"Sue, calm yourself," Horace said with a weary sigh. He limped to the nearest chair and fell into it. "What's going on?"

Elijah saw his father limping and asked, "Father, you're limping…are you in pain?" He trained his eyes on the old man to not miss an indication that he was faking.

Horace waved a hand in the air, "No need to worry, I was standing much more today than usual is all." He cocked his head to one side. "Now, get on with it."

Elijah took a breath. "I know Mother and Caroline are working to drive Sadie out of town," he said flatly.

Sue Ellen cried out, covering her face with a damp cloth.

Horace's brows lifted in surprise, but before he could respond, Elijah went on. "I know about the barbed wire on the playground at school because Sadie got entangled in it. Her notes about the children are missing from her teacher's desk, and the lesson plan book is gone. And now dead crickets are found in her picnic basket!"

"Son, Caroline is getting ready to have a baby," Horace began, but Sue Ellen's comment stopped him.

Sue Ellen's face twisted into a mask of disbelief and fury, and her voice dropped to a venomous hiss. "You think I have time to concern myself with that girl?" She spat the words like poison. "I want nothing to do with that orphan!"

Horace sat in stunned silence. He dipped his head, then raised it once more. "Do you have proof of this, son?"

Elijah shook his head. "No proof yet. But I'm working on it." He shot a cold look at his mother. "Why do you hate Sadie so bad? Because she's an orphan? That's no fault of hers, Mother. After all, Caroline was an orphan."

"The truth is I don't want an orphan marrying my son. You're better than that. You will find an educated woman from a fine, upstanding family to settle down with." Sue Ellen huffed the words, then relaxed as the truth emerged.

Elijah's laughter shook the bedroom windows. "I told you I'm sour on marriage because of you, Mother!"

Horace raised a hand and yelled, "Stop this at once!" His eyes blazed like molten lava. Rising to his feet and leaning on his cane, he looked directly at his wife and asked. "Sue, tell the truth. Have you caused such despair and outrageous behavior? Stealing from the schoolhouse? And, indeed, the crickets in Sadie's basket didn't hop inside and die."

She lay back against the embroidered pillowcases, limp as a noodle. "I know nothing about those nasty insects, Horace!"

Frustration sounded around the room as Elijah and Horace drew long breaths and shook their heads. It was no use continuing a shouting match because Sue Ellen insisted she was innocent.

Horace dropped back on the chair once more. "Well, Elijah, I agree with you."

Sue Ellen threw off the cloth covering her face, bolting up in a huff. "What?"

Elijah's face turned from bewilderment to surprise. His fingers gripped the chair's arms in shock. "Father?"

Shaggy brows shot up. "Someone put those crickets in the picnic basket; they stole Sadie's teacher's notes and placed a dangerous wire on the playground. You've just told on yourself, Sue, that you have no use for Sadie Danley. That implicates you to a certain degree."

Sue Ellen began a protest, but he glared at her and raised her hand. "Not another word, woman!" He continued, "And we know how devious Caroline is. She's caused us enough trouble for eternity."

Elijah's mouth was a grim line, and his eyebrows shot into the air.

"Elijah is right; these things must stop. Sadie Danley is here for a purpose and will not be run out of town. We need her here with us."

Muffled cries escaped as Sue Ellen bawled loudly and turned on her side.

Elijah stood and talked over his mother's wailing. "If anything else happens to Sadie, I'll take drastic measures, Mother."

Immediately, Sue Ellen quieted. She turned to look at her son. "She needs to stay away from me."

When he had her attention, he barked a bitter laugh, his voice reverberating. "If that's true, Mother, stay out of her way. But I tell you this—if I find out you're lying, I'll have you committed to the asylum in Nevada."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Horace's eyes widened, his face blanching. "Elijah…" he began, his voice trailing off as he looked at his wife.

Sue Ellen's mouth fell open, her face draining of color. For a long moment, silence dominated the bedroom, the tension crackling like a storm about to break.

"You wouldn't," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Try me," Elijah's voice was strong and serious. You've meddled in enough lives, Mother. It ends now."

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Three days later, Rocky Corners settled back into its familiar rhythm. The picnic grounds were cleared of tables and chairs, leaving faint depressions in the grass. The patriotic bunting still adorned the gazebo in honor of the Independence Day celebrations, but the carnival atmosphere had vanished. Farmers guided creaking wagons through the dusty streets, merchants bustled with customers, and townsfolk resumed their daily routines. July's relentless humidity weighed heavy in the Ozarks, making the air sticky and the nights just a few degrees more bearable than the sweltering days.

But Lillian was in trouble. Her fall had fractured her right ankle and left her hip in agonizing pain. Elijah had summoned two other physicians from nearby cities to confirm his suspicions. After thorough examinations, both doctors, renowned for their expertise, agreed; Lillian's hip was broken. At her age, healing could take months, if it ever occurred at all. The diagnosis left her bedridden, her usual vitality replaced with weariness and suffering.

As word of Lillian's accident rippled through Rocky Corners, the community responded with warmth and swiftness born of deep affection for their beloved schoolteacher. The next day, the familiar sound of wagon wheels crunching over the gravel road signaled the arrival of neighbors bearing gifts of sustenance and support. Audrey, Phoebe, and Laura bustled into the kitchen, their arms laden with fragrant pies, golden-crusted loaves of bread, and delicate cakes. The tangy sweetness of blackberry and apple jelly and preserves accompanied the savory richness of casseroles that Liza, Ruth, and Jane delivered. Others brought smoked ham, dressed chickens, and hearty roasts, their offerings a testament to the practical care and shared abundance that defined the little town.

In the makeshift bedroom that Lillian occupied, Preacher Horton's deep, resonant voice wove through the room like a balm. He had made a point of visiting twice daily since the accident, his presence a pillar of faith and hope. Seated beside Lillian, whose pale hands rested on the quilt, he read from the Psalms with an energy that seemed to light the dim corners of the room. His words, vibrant with conviction, wrapped Lillian and everyone around her in the comforting assurance that the Lord's strength was with her, even in this dark hour.

"'He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings, you will find refuge,'" the pastor recited, his hand resting briefly on hers. The weight of his touch conveyed not just his pastoral concern but the faith of a man certain of divine healing.

As Lillian's eyes glistened with unspoken gratitude, Sadie standing quietly in the doorway, clasped her hands in silent prayer. The love and faith of the community surrounded them, a living testament to the bonds that had grown through years of shard joy and sorrows in Rocky Corners.

After the pastor dismissed himself, Sadie sat by Lillian's bed. The retired schoolteacher lay propped against pillows, her face pale and etched with deep lines of discomfort. A patchwork pattern quilt, faded from years of washing, covered her frame. Sadie had helped Florence with Lillian's morning care and Pastor Horton had just left. Now she read aloud from the Book of Esther. A glass of lemonade, its rim glistening with condensation, rested within Lillian's reach on the bedside table.

Florence was outside tending to the laundry, her apron fluttering in the gusty wind. Sarah Ann, usually a steady presence, hadn't come by this morning, leaving a gap in their usual routine. Outside the bay windows, tree canopies swayed and rustled, their leaves shimmering, like silver coins in the bright sunlight. Sadie glanced up as a strong gust bent the flowers in the garden, their petals trembling before springing back upright. "The wind is lively today," she murmured, pausing her reading to gaze at the moving foliage.

Elijah was late. Sadie glanced at the clock, its brass hands ticking steadily. Normally, he arrived punctually, his sturdy boots echoing his arrival on the wooden floorboards as he entered. She debated retreating to another room to avoid him but chastised herself. She couldn't run like a scared deer every time he came near. She would stand her ground and act as if she had it all together, even if the hollow hole of loneliness gnawed at her.

Lillian shifted, her movements slow and deliberate. Despite the pain, her wrinkled face softened as she looked at Sadie. "Hand me that paper and pencil, please. I need to tell you some things," she said, her voice a rasping whisper. "You're like the granddaughter I never had." her tear-brimmed eyes glistened, her frail hand trembling as it rested on the quilt.

Sadie leaned forward, touched by the admission. She closed the Bible softly, the leather cover warm from her touch. She placed the paper and pencil next to Lillian, then took Lillian's wrinkled hand in hers. "Shh, you need to rest," she urged, though the lump in her throat betrayed her.

"No," Lillian insisted, catching Sadie's hand. Her grip was feeble, but her determination was clear. "I want you to know, Sadie. First, the dill pickle recipe…the secret ingredients are a red-hot pepper and a teaspoon of Elijah's whiskey in a quart of brine."

Sadie's eyes widened. "Whiskey? Why, I never would have guessed! And Elijah…why does he have whiskey?"

A faint laugh escaped Lillian, a mere shadow of her usual mirth. "You probably don't know it, but whiskey can be good medicine. There's nothing better for a sore throat than a hot toddy. Elijah keeps it for his rheumatism—its Old Crow, shipped in from Springfield. One day, I decided to experiment with my pickles. Just a tad, mind you, and they tasted unique!" She paused, drawing a shallow breath. "If I die, the recipe is yours."

Sadie managed a small laugh, though her chest tightened at the thought of losing Lillian. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice quivering and her heart warming.

"And," Lillian continued, "I'm leaving this house and the land to Florence. You can live here for however long you need to, darling girl. Your job is to take care of the cemetery. It's my legacy from Bennett, you know. And someone has to keep it up. Will you do it?"

Sadie's heart ached as she nodded, tears threatening to spill. "I promise," she whispered, clutching the Bible as though it could anchor her in the rising tide of her emotions.

Lillian sighed, her eyelids drooping. "I'm going to write about our Bronson family history, too. Mother and Papa's story needs to be told," she murmured, her voice trailing off as sleep claimed her.

The talk of death left swirling emotions inside Sadie's heart. She left Lillian sleeping, and found Florence hanging sheets on the clothesline, their white lengths snapping in the wind like sails. She bent to the wicker basket, reaching for a damp pillowcase.

"This wind is liable to blow in a storm!" Florence cried out, catching the flapping sheet and pinning it securely to the line.

"There you are!" Zimri's voice boomed as he appeared around the corner, his face flushed with excitement. "Caroline had the baby early this morning. Sarah Ann sent me to spread the news. She has a girl."

Florence's smile brightened her face. "Did Sister help Elijah?"

Zimri nodded; his gray hair tousled by the wind. "She got home around two this morning, tired as a workhorse."

Florence beamed. "Good news indeed. I'm glad they're both doing well."

"As far as I know," Zimri said, tipping his hat. "I'd best be on my way."

As he disappeared down the road, Florence turned to Sadie. "So that's why Sarah Ann didn't come, and why Elijah is late. Bet they're both worn out."

Sadie nodded, her mind wandering to Caroline and the new baby. What name would they choose? The thought tugged at her curiosity as the wind lifted the sheets, billowing them like ghosts dancing in the sunlight.

***

Elijah's plan to return on the circuit and forget Sadie were dashed. It was too soon to leave. Given Lillian's age, he wanted to monitor her closely. He couldn't bear to leave her and rely entirely on Sarah Ann and Florence. If she took a turn for the worse, he would just have to turn around and come back anyhow. After much deliberation, Elijah sent word to Pine Hills, letting patients know they had two options: travel to Rocky Corners to see him at the clinic, or seek care from doctors in other towns.

So much for getting away from Sadie, he mused with frustration. Are you running away from Sadie or from the fear of commitment? He didn’t have to think about the answer, he already knew.

He glanced at the clock and splashed cold water on his face from the basin, the shock of it snapping him to alertness. His reflection in the small mirror showed dark circles under his eyes. He ran damp fingers through his thick black hair to smooth it down, pulled on his scuffed boots, and grabbed his wide-brimmed hat. He was running late this morning, thanks to Caroline's labor during the night. Her second child had arrived easier than the first, but there was one hitch—Caroline had complications, keeping him and Sarah Ann at her side longer than expected.

Andrew had pulled Elijah aside before they left, guilt etched into his weary face. "I think I might've caused her labor," he admitted sheepishly. "I grilled her about Sadie and pushed her too hard. She got really upset."

Elijah shook his head, his tone firm but reassuring. "Caroline's been having pains for days. You didn't cause this." Andrew seemed relieved, but the two men agreed to meet in a few days to discuss Caroline's role in harassing Sadie.

Stepping into the bright, hot morning, the wind immediately tried to snatch his hat. He caught it in midair, muttering a curse as he jammed it firmly onto his head. The wind was fierce today, rattling loose shutters and tugging at anything not anchored down. Dust swirled in eddies around his boots as he made his way to Lillian's house, worry carving lines into his forehead.

Broken bones were bad enough, but for someone of Lillian's age, they were a grim prognosis. The thought of her bedridden and in pain, possibly never walking again, sent a shiver through him despite the heat. He forced the grim thought aside as he approached the beautiful Victorian house, its bright paint gleaming in the sunlight.

Inside, he found Lillian still asleep, her pale face slack with exhaustion. Elijah joined Florence and Sadie in the backyard, where long wooden poles propped up sagging clotheslines heavy with wet clothes, the wind snapping and tugging them.

"Ladies," Elijah called, his voice low and calm as he approached. Both women turned, startled. He noted how pretty Sadie looked with the wind tousling her hair as the sunshine danced over her freckled nose. No doubt about it, her presence pulled at his heart strings. It was all he could do to not take her in his arms.

"I hoped I wouldn't scare you!" His hearty laugh carried on the air.

Florence smiled at her great-nephew, her sunny cheeks glowing. "We hear you had a busy night."

Elijah ran a hand over his scruffy face, the stubble rasping under his fingers. "That's putting it lightly. How was Lillian's night?" He turned his gaze back to Sadie, their eyes locking briefly.

"She rested surprisingly well," Florence answered, breaking the moment. "She's been a bit woozy this morning. Sadie read to her after her bath while I came out to finish this."

Elijah nodded, his voice softening. "That's good to hear. I'll check on her at lunch, I don't want to disturb her now." He turned to leave, but Florence's voice stopped him.

"Are you going out on your circuit, Lige?"

He hesitated, the lines on his tanned face deepening as he sighed. "No. Between Aunt Lillian and Caroline, I'm staying put for now. I've told patients to come here or find someone else until further notice." He was quick to catch Sadie drawing a deep breath. Was that a tiny smile he detected on her lips?

Florence nodded approvingly. "Good. Lillian needs you right now. I'm worried about her, Lige."

"I'm praying for her, as I'm sure the entire town is too, as I'm sure the entire town is too," Sadie added, her eyes bright with hope and faith tugging her mouth.

Elijah's jaw tightened. "We won't discuss worry, Aunt Florence. I'm not ready to face what may come. Let's keep a positive outlook and hope for the best." With a curt nod to both women, he turned and strode away.

At the clinic, Elijah was relieved to find no patients waiting. The familiar scent of coffee filled the air as he brewed a fresh pot, the rich aroma mingling with the faint medicinal tang that always lingered in the space. He had just poured a second cup when the door opened and his father stepped inside, his gray suit impeccable but missing its usual tie.

"Morning, son," Horace greeted, removing his hat.

"Morning, Father," Elijah set the second cup on the desk. "Let's talk in the office."

Horace settled across from him, cradling the steaming mug. "I've been thinking about your mother's role in all of this trouble with Sadie."

Elijah blinked; his interest piqued. "What about her?"

"Sue Ellen oversaw the picnic baskets at the picnic," Horace said, his voice heavy with implication. His dark eyes bore into his son.

Realization hit Elijah like a punch in the gut. His stomach churned as he connected the dots. "She had access to everyone's baskets…"

Horace nodded grimly. "She had plenty of time to slip the dead crickets into Sadie's basket."

Elijah exhaled sharply. "I knew she was meddling, but this…" He shook his head; his voice laced with disgust. "It's deplorable."

"Caught red-handed," Horace murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "But she doesn't realize we're onto her. Not yet."

"What do you plan to do?"

"We wait. We need all the facts before we confront her."

Before Elijah could respond, the front door swung open, and boots thudded across the floor.

"Anyone home?" Ross Montgomery's deep voice carried a distinct Ozarks drawl.

Elijah motioned him in, and Ross greeted them with a broad grin, his sun-weathered face crinkling. His plaid shirt stretched across his muscular frame, and his brown vest hung loose, the gleaming gold sheriff's star catching the light.

"Good to see you again, Ross," Horace said warmly.

"Likewise, Horace," Ross replied, his chest puffing slightly.

Elijah handed him a cup of coffee. "What brings you here so early."

Ross sipped the coffee, his grin fading into a thoughtful expression. "I've been thinking about Sadie's trouble. I was going to tell Andrew, but I'll tell you since he's a new papa at home with his wife. I know where the barbed wire came from."

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Elijah leaned forward, planting both elbows on the desk in front of him. The worn wood creaked under the pressure as he met Ross's uneasy gaze.

Ross glanced between the two men, his Adam's apple bopping as he swallowed hard. His brow furrowed deeply, and his weathered face tightened with concern. "The wire came from my ranch," he admitted, his voice gravelly. "It was old wire I'd replaced last year, not good for much. Andrew took it a while back because Caroline wanted him to fence in a small garden plot."

The words hung in the still warm air like smoke from a smoldering fire. Elijah shot up from his chair so fast it scraped against the floorboards, the harsh screech cutting through the quiet. His chest heaved as disbelief and anger flickered in his eyes. "What?"

Horace mirrored his son's reaction, though slower, his movements stiff with age. He sat back in his chair; his face lined with a mixture of worry and weariness. "This is unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head. The faint scent of pipe tobacco clung to him, a comfort in contrast to the weight of the moment.

Silence swallowed the room, broken only by the steady tick of the wall clock, its pendulum swinging like a judge's gavel. The three men exchanged glances, their thoughts loud in the quiet. Outside, the faint clatter of wagon wheels and a crow's distant caw barely reached their ears.

Elijah ran a hand through his raven hair, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "This is just as I thought. If the wire was at Andrew and Caroline's house, someone would've had to take it to the schoolhouse. Caroline just had a baby and there's no way she could've managed that."

Horace nodded, his tone thoughtful but grim. "Sue Ellen wouldn't have the strength to move that kind of load, either. And I'm home for lunch every day. She's always there. She wouldn't have the time to carry out something like this. There has to be a third party involved. But who?"

Ross scratched at his chin, his fingertips rasping against stubble as he narrowed his eyes in thought. "Looks like we've still got work to do. I'll keep an ear out for anything suspicious.”

He stood, his boots scuffing against the plank floor as he adjusted his hat. His shoulders square, his stance betraying the unease he tried to hide. “I'm meeting Abby for lunch today."

Before Elijah could respond the front door creaked open, letting in a blast of heat. A patient stepped inside and stood waiting at the front desk.

"I'll be right there," Elijah called out, pulling himself back into the role of doctor, though the weight of the conversation lingered in his tense jaw. "We've got to figure out who's behind these acts before anything worse happens," he said, his voice resolute. He rose, reaching for his stethoscope.

Ross tipped his hat and offered a quick nod. "We'll get to the bottom of it. You can count on it."

Horace gave a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Keep us informed, Ross. This town has seen enough trouble as it is."

The three men dispersed, the room growing quiet once more save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a reminder that time was slipping away and the urgency to stop whoever was behind the sinister acts.

***

Riley O'Flannery rode into Rocky Corners at high noon on the dusty hack from Wheatland. The wheels rattled and creaked over the uneven road as the July sun blazed overhead, baking the earth and raising waves of heat in the distance. Silas Bridges, perched beside him on the bench, chattered nonstop during the three-mile trip, filling the air with gossip from both towns.

"The big news is Miss Lillian's fall after she won the pickle contest at the picnic Saturday," Silas informed him, leaning in closer with a conspiratorial grin.

Riley was only half-listening, but his ears perked up when Silas mentioned Sadie Danley. The name stirred something deep in his chest, like a bird taking flight.

"There's plenty of help for Lillian, she's got her sister, Florence, and the schoolteacher. Yes, sir, Miss Sadie's already made quite the impression."

Riley pressed for more details, careful to keep his tone casual, but inwardly, his excitement bubbled over. By the time the hack rattled to a stop in front of the boarding house, Silas had left him holding his carpetbag on the steps, squinting against the sun's glare. The hot July sun beat down mercilessly, reddening his ears and the back of his neck. He tugged his collar, suddenly aware of the sweat trickling down his back.

His hat was back on his uncle's farm, battered and beaten, no longer fit for company. Determined to make a good impression, Riley resolved to buy a new Derby before meeting Sadie.

After checking in at the front desk, Riley climbed the narrow staircase to Room Number five. The scent of lemon polish lingered in the hall, mingling with the faint aroma of roasting meat from the cafe below. He splashed his face with water from the basin in his room and changed into a clean shirt, smoothing down the fabric nervously.

Seated in the cafe, Riley ordered a roast beef sandwich and nibbled at it absently, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, as he rehearsed the words he wanted to say to Sadie. "Sadie, I—I've missed you, you, you somethin' fierce," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at how awkward it sounded.

His lips curve into a smile as he thought of her. It had only been a month since they parted, but it felt like years. He imagined her face lighting up when she saw him, her laughter like the sound of Indian creek running over smooth stones. His heart swelled at the thought of asking her to marry him. He could see it all so clearly, taking her to Galena, Kansas and introducing her to Uncle Clem and Aunt Myra, and starting their life together.

A warm flush crept up his cheeks, and he ducked his head, embarrassed by the intensity of his own daydreams. She'd been his best girl since they met at Mrs. Hannigan's orphanage in Indiana all those years ago. Being with Sadie felt like standing in the sunlight streaming over them, or surrounded by a million sparkling diamonds, a rare and precious gift.

"Would you like a piece of pie, sir?" A cheerful voice broke into his thoughts. Riley glanced up to see the waitress, Abby, standing beside his table, a warm smile on her face. "We have apple and fresh blackberry cobbler. The berries were just picked this week."

Jolted from his reverie, Riley's blush deepened. "Uh, yes, ma'am, I'll take the cobbler," he stammered, grateful for the distraction.

Abby returned, setting the dish in front of him. The golden crust was perfectly flaky, with deep purple blackberry juice oozing from the sides. The sweet, tangy scent made his mouth water, and he realized just how hungry he was.

Abby lingered; her curiosity piqued. "You're new in town. Are you here on business or just passing through?" Her blue eyes sparkled, and Riley noticed the way she tilted her blonde head, clearing fishing for information.

"I—I do, do have business, here, here," he replied, his words halting as he stumbled over the sentence. He flushed again but found Abby's expression kind, her curiosity patient rather than judgmental.

"Well, I wish you luck," she said with a knowing smile. "What sort of business if you don't mind me asking?"

Riley hesitated, then straightened in his chair. "Do you, do you, you, know Sadie Danley?" His voice was soft, but earnest.

Abby's face lit up with recognition. "Sadie? Of course! She's a sweetheart. Do you know her?"

Riley offered his hand. "Riley O'Flannery. I've come to, to, see her. We, we were friends back, back in Indiana. I, uh, uh, uh I rode the train with her and Mrs. Hannigan but, but went on to to Kansas."

Abby nodded, filing the information away with obvious interest. "Do you know where she's staying?"

"Yes," Riley said, grateful for the question. "The ha—uh, hack driver told me. I'm headin' to see her, her right after this, this, this pie."

Abby's curiosity was momentarily satisfied as the bell above the cafe door jangled and Ross came inside. She gave him a friendly smile. "Well, good luck, Mr. O'Flannery. I hope you find what you're looking for."

Riley nodded, his determination renewed as he finished the last bite of cobbler. The tangy sweetness lingered on his tongue, but his mind was already elsewhere—on Sadie and the future he dreamed of sharing with her.

***

Sadie walked the familiar rows of headstones, glancing at names and dates, her heart hitching at the ones that marked babies and young children's deaths. Sometimes disease or an outbreak took entire families to the grave. She especially liked discovering the various symbols found on many of the graves or the epitaphs written in verse.

The heat of the day beat down on her and sweat trickled down her back. She hurried to her favorite spot, the bench under the trees near the shed. The oppressive heat clung to her like a damp shroud, even in the shade. Not a single leaf stirred; the wind that had offered brief respite yesterday was utterly still today. Above, the sky stretched endlessly blue, marred only by billowing clouds, their swollen edges gilded by the blazing sun. Yet even these clouds seemed ominous, their fluffy edges creeping together as though conspiring to blot out the light.

The cemetery's peaceful silence usually wrapped her in comfort, but today it felt heavy, like quiet before a storm. She tried to focus on her thoughts though the humid air pressed against her, muddling her concentration.

The missing notes and lesson plan book weighed heavily on her mind. The only explanation she could fathom was unsettling: someone wanted to make her life harder. She immediately thought of Caroline. It had to be Caroline.

Sadie's stomach churned as icy fear coiled around her thoughts. How far would Caroline go to make her feel unwelcome? The notes, written with care and confidentiality, had no use to anyone but Sadie. The act was deliberate, spiteful. And the lesson plan book—losing it meant hours of painstaking work rewriting her plans.

I have to take control. I'm going to confront her! Somehow make her stop this insanity! Sadie shook her head, that would never work. Caroline was a mean bully who treated others like dirt on her shoes. She would try to stand up to Caroline, but in her heart, Sadie didn't feel convinced it would work. No, the only answer was to leave. But that was giving in to Caroline's scheme. What right did she have to run Sadie off? Was there a way for them both to live in the same town and have peace? She had to try to find common ground.

She glanced at the sky, now streaked with gray. The clouds churned and deepened, dark fingers stretching toward the horizon. A sudden gust of wind kicked up, scattering dry leaves across the ground and lifting her skirt. The scent of wildflowers and earth rose, mingling with the metallic tang of approaching rain.

Her pulse quickened as footsteps crunched on the brittle grass behind her. She turned sharply, her breath catching in her throat.

"Sa, Sadie!"

Riley O'Flannery stepped from behind the trees, his round spectacles glinting in the shifting light. His navy shirt clung to his thin frame, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and his dark trousers tucked neatly into scuffed boots. Shadows danced beneath a new Bowler, emphasizing the beads of sweat forming on his brow.

Sadie shot to her feet her heart pounding. "Riley? What in the world are you doing here?" Her hand flew to her chest as she steadied herself.

"I found you!" His smile stretched wide as he closed the distance between them grabbing her arms with unexpected urgency. "I, I, I've come to, to, to, to see you!" His voice cracked, his stutter more pronounced than usual.

Sadie blinked in confusion. "I see that," she murmured, trying to manage a smile.

Riley crushed her to him, his thin chest heaving against hers. "I've missed you, you, so, so much!" His hands moved awkwardly across her back, holding her with a desperation that felt overwhelming.

"Riley, please," she gasped, gently pushing against his chest. When he finally loosened his grip, she stepped back, putting space between them.

"I saw Mrs. H," he stammered. "She said you were h,here."

Sadie nodded, still trying to make sense of his behavior. His sudden intensity unsettled her. She gestured to the bench. "Let's sit. We'll talk."

As they sat, Riley leaned forward, his foot bouncing nervously. He launched into his story about Kansas, the lead mines, and his savings. His uncle worked for Mr. Edgar Schermerhorn, a prominent businessman in Galena. Sadie listened, her mind racing like the storm clouds overhead.

When he turned the conversation back to her, his eyes locked on hers with intensity. "Come, come with, with me, me to, to Galena," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "This is, is a sign, don't you, you see, see? We can be together, build a, a, a life together!"

Sadie's throat tightened as the first low rumble of thunder rolled in the distance. The air around them seemed charged, heavy with tension and the coming storm. She shook her head. "Riley, we're friends. I have a job here. Responsibilities."

"You know, know, I’ve, I've loved you, you forever. I, I took the, the chance to better my, my life with my, my uncle and aunt so, so I, I, I can offer you marriage, a family, everything you dream of," he insisted, his voice rising. The shadows darkened his features, and the storm seemed to echo his growing frustration.

Surprise erupted inside her and she gently refused. Riley's desperation turned to anger. "No! You're not listening! This is my plan!" He leaped to his feet, his voice sharp and unwavering. "I'm going to, to marry you, you and, and make your dreams come true!"

Before Sadie could respond, another voice rang out, strong and commanding.

"What's going on here?" Elijah appeared, striding toward them with purpose. His white coat flapped in the strengthening wind, making him look larger than life against the brooding sky. Relief flooded Sadie as she stepped into his embrace, the warmth of his presence calming her frayed nerves.

Riley spun to face Elijah, his fists clenching as he squared his shoulders. Lighting flashed in the western sky.

"Riley, stop," Sadie pleaded, her voice trembling.

But Riley didn't move, his dark eyes darting between her and Elijah. The storm was upon them, and it wasn't just the weather.

 

MY TOMORROW Chapters 11-13

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was the time of the strawberry moon hanging low in the sky and the summer picnic was a day away. The Ozark days grew hotter, the air thicker, as Rocky Corners bustled with preparations for the annual Founders Day picnic. This celebration held just before the Fourth of July, was a cherished tradition. Flags waved from every pole, and window boxes overflowed with blooms of marigolds and petunias. A cheerful buzz filled the air as townsfolk painted storefronts and polished fences, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic clinking of tools. The basket dinner held at noon and garnered money for the upkeep of Rocky Corners. It was a festive time for all.

Sadie stirred from a restless sleep, her skin aflame with irritation. The relentless itch of poison Ivy stretched across her arms, neck, and parts of her face. Even her puffy eyes burned, as if the heat of the day had seeped into her very pores. She hesitated to scratch because it seemed to make the rash spread and her torment grow. Sliding into a lightweight dressing gown, she made her way to the kitchen, the hem swishing against her ankles.

The kitchen was alive with activity. Florence, wearing her usual faded calico dress with a crisp white apron, stood by the stove, deftly turning out fried pies. The scent of bubbling berry filling mingled with the earthy aroma of the bread dough Lilian kneaded nearby on a floured board. Lillian, her gray-streaked hair tied back in a bun, glanced up as Sadie entered. Florence glanced at the girl too. Both women froze.

"Good heavens, child!" Florence exclaimed, her lorgnette swinging from it's ribbon. She hurried to Sadie concern etched into her lined face. "You've gotten into something, haven't you?"

Lillian set down the rolling pin, and followed her sister, her frown deepening as she examined Sadie's rash-covered arms. She and Florence exchanged a knowing look. "Poison ivy," they both muttered.

"Chickweed salve would help, but I'm fresh out." Lillian glanced at the clock. "Do you think Elijah's at the office yet?" She glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty.

Florence shook her head. "Not officially. Office hours don't start until eight. Where did you get into poison ivy, Sadie?"

The itch brought tears to Sadie's eyes. She brushed at them, frustration filling her. "It must have been the cemetery. I pulled weeds from the fence and some of the headstones yesterday."

"I was going to get to that, but I've been busy with my pickles," Lillian admitted, frowning. "Stay away from that place," she warned Sadie.

"Well, no sense in waiting," Florence declared. "Get dressed, Sadie. Lige needs to see this."

The doctor's office, a modest wooden building with black shutters, was already abuzz. Two patients waited ahead of Sadie. Florence explained the situation to Elijah. His frown puckered his face.

"That's what was bothering you last night?" he asked, exasperation clear in his tone. He ran a hand through his black hair. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscled forearms, and a light blue cravat hung loosely at his neck. "Well, I'll be with you in a bit." He stalked off to a room to care for old Mr. Peterson.

Sadie noted discontent in his voice as she sat with Florence. Their get-together had not gone as expected. And no wonder. She wanted a family. Elijah did not.

Elijah returned from treating the last patient, his voice tinged with irritation, but his eyes softened when they met Sadie's. He beckoned her into the examination room. Elijah examined her skin, listened to her heart, and went to the medicine cabinet in the far corner. There, he found what he was looking for and returned to Sadie. "I'm glad we caught it early before you scratched so much that you infected your skin." His blue eyes filtered over the girl he loved, and he saw her discomfort. A pang of guilt hit his heart at how he was conducting himself. Why did love have to be so hard?

He shook the jar before opening it. "This should help soothe the rash," he said, his voice gentler now. Using a small wooden spoon, Elijah scooped out the lotion and began applying it to Sadie's arms. The coolness of the ointment brought instant relief, but it was the tenderness in his touch that sent a shiver through her. Sadie's heart thudded in her chest, and she struggled to keep her thoughts from racing. He worked in silence; his brow furrowed in concentration. Sadie risked a glance at his face, noting the sharp angles softened by an unspoken tenderness. He looked at her like she was something fragile yet vital—a flower needing sunlight after a storm.

With each movement, Sadie breathed deeply as the warmth of the man's touch invigorated her skin. At that moment, she knew she would forever be in love with Elijah John Brownstone. Because of this love, she would never pledge her heart to another, never feel the same about any other man, and she would die a spinster.

The more Elijah rubbed the lotion onto Sadie's skin, the more uncomfortable he grew. His mind went crazy with the longing for Sadie Danley. It was then and there that he knew he did love her. He loved everything about her: her voice that melted over him like hot butter, her deep ginger hair hanging like satin ribbons, and her beautiful, expressive eyes that came alive when she spoke.

"I'll give you this jar," he said, capping it and handing it to her. "Use it several times a day. Shake it well before each application. And, Sadie, don't scratch. It'll only spread the oils and worsen the rash. I know a man who tried to burn poison ivy once and the smoke caused him an intense reaction…even in his eyes, he almost went blind!"

Sadie's eyes grew large at the information, and she nodded, her voice catching as she answered, "I promise, Elijah."

"I'm sure Aunt Lillian has chamomile tea. Have her fix you a cup, it has calming properties."

Elijah nodded. "Poison ivy can cause a lot of trouble. I don't want you going around the cemetery brush again—or any brush around here. Missouri's known for all kinds of irritating and noxious weeds we have to contend with. It's better to stay completely away from the fields." After a moment, he added, "Please."

Sadie nodded. "I wasn't in the fields, but I promise." The sting of tears made her want to cry, but she held them in quite well.

He walked her out of the examination room and back to the front. "Aunt Florence, I'm giving Sadie a jar of burdock and plantain lotion. Give her chamomile tea to help with the unpleasantness of the itch."

Florence looked at the jar of lotion and asked Elijah, "Does it have yarrow leaf in it?"

Elijah nodded. "It's Lillian's recipe." For the first time all morning, he smiled, his mouth curving sheepishly. "It works like a charm!"

Florence agreed and said she would make another batch whenever his jar was empty. With that, she took Sadie's arm and turned back home. "Does she need to return?"

Elijah eyed Sadie. "Not unless she gets the rash infected. I gave her strict instructions. See that she listens."

The older woman nodded, looking at Sadie, who looked like she would cry at any moment.

Elijah turned on his heel and called the next patient.

***

Back at the house, the kitchen was a whirl of preparations. Five picnic baskets lined the counter, each packed with plates and utensils. Lillian fussed over the details, ensuring everything was perfect for the fundraiser. "I've started the baskets, Sister. I'll let you and Sadie do your own baskets, but I wanted to get a head start on the extras we always take."

"Why are you making extra baskets?" Sadie asked, looking at the baskets in a line.

"One year old Man Decker bought Susan Slope's basket. Her egg salad sandwiches were spoiled, and he never bought another basket again!"

"I can't blame him." Florence laughed. "The poor man turned green!"

"And Susan was horrified and quit offering a basket. She decided that making the wicker baskets is her skill, not cooking." Lillian shook her head. "We need all the money we can muster, so I try to ensure the food is edible and appealing."

Florence clucked her tongue at her sister. "Now you know sometimes we can't help it if we can't cook! Mother had a terrible time teaching me, remember the burned biscuits every time I baked them?"

Lillian's eyebrows shot into the air. "I remember the smell…the house took days to clear out that awful smell!"

Florence huffed and turned to the sink.

Sadie hid her smile and offered her help but was gently shooed away. "Rest," Florence insisted.

Sadie gladly agreed. "I'm going to read for a few minutes. I'll be back to help later."

The humid summer air clung to Sadie as she relaxed on the porch and the rash burned under the sweat, a reminder of Elijah's concern. But before she opened Little Women, she decided to walk over to the schoolhouse. Passing by the community garden, Sadie spotted Caroline hunched over the bean plants, her rounded belly evidence of her approaching due date. As Caroline picked the green beans she kept an eye on Brady. Brady played in the dirt, pushing a little toy truck.

Sadie called a cheerful greeting, but Caroline's reply was curt, her scowl deepening as she rubbed her lower back. Sadie paused briefly, then continued on, her mind already drifting back to the gentle care Elijah had shown her.

The humid air was thick, and sweat had trickled down her face and back when Sadie got to the schoolhouse. Smells of chalk dust and Smells of chalk dust and books mingled with the moist air inside. Approaching her desk, she noticed it was not in the order she had left it. The papers left neatly stacked were array, and the middle desk drawer was slightly open. Someone had been at her desk. She opened the middle drawer, but nothing seemed out of place. When she pulled the side drawer out, the notes she had placed there were gone. Books mingled with the moist air inside. She inspected the inside of books on her desk, flipping through the pages, thinking she might have forgotten that she had stuck the notes inside for safekeeping. The notes were gone.

Eyes squinting, Sadie looked around the little room. With a heavy sigh, she bolted to the bookshelf. The lesson plan book was missing from the top shelf! She always left it between the history book and the extra children's readers. Panic overtook her, and she whirled, blurry eyes searching all the shelves and tables. She knew the lesson plan book was not in her desk.

Taking a deep breath and swiping at the tears burning her eyes, Sadie tried to calm down. There was a reasonable explanation. The book was here, just not where she had left it. She would find the lessons, and all would be well. But who would move the book? And why? She thought of the school board members; perhaps they wanted to look over all the plans Sadie had made for the upcoming months when school started. Possibly, Horace had borrowed it and hadn't returned it yet…

Pushing the positive thoughts aside, negative ones took over. All the work I've done to set goals and outcomes for the children! The research and ideas I've included for three months, now lost. Shaking her head, she wouldn't accept that. But with a sinking heart, she left the school, defeat on her heels. 

Walking back home, she thought she might buy a lock at the hardware store and have Walking back home, she thought she might ask Zimri to put it on her desk. She hated to think someone might be snooping around the classroom, but what else could have happened to her notes and the lesson plan book?

She planned to speak with Zimri when she saw him again. On the short walk home, she thought maybe something fishy was happening. The barbed wire that lay tangled in the grass on the playground had to have been placed there by someone. And now her notes were missing. Did someone want to sabotage her? Elijah had already voiced his opinion about the matter, and now she possibly agreed.

When Sadie returned to the house, the rhythmic sound of hammering and sawing greeted her, sharp and steady against the morning air. She followed the noise to find Zimri hard at work on the new library room Florence had envisioned. The scent of freshly cut wood mingled with the day's warmth, and the soft haze of sawdust hung in the sunlight streaming through the open windows.

The new room was spacious, with partitions marking out space for ceiling-to-floor bookshelves. Zim was bent over a sturdy oak frame, his hammer striking nails with practiced precision as he secured the first shelf. He straightened as Sadie stepped through the doorway, his eyes widening slightly as he took in her blotchy, irritated red skin.

"Well, now," he said, leaning on his hammer and shaking his head. "You sure tangled with something, didn't ya? Looks like a good case of poison ivy to me!"

Sadie nodded sheepishly, brushing her stray hair from her flushed face. "The doctor confirmed it early this morning. I learned my lesson—no more pulling weeds and vines in the cemetery, I promise."

Zimri chuckled, a deep, hearty sound that echoed in the bare room. "Good call, Miss Sadie. That cemetery ain't worth sacrificing yourself to the green menace."

Sadie managed a soft smile, her face itching even as she spoke. "I'll leave the heroic gardening to someone else. By the way, Zim, will you put a lock and key on my teacher's desk in the classroom…I'll buy the lock."

"Why sure, Sadie. I think I've got a lock in my toolbox, so no need to purchase one." His questioning look led her to explain.

"I put confidential information in the desk, and I'd like to keep it locked."

"I'll get to it as soon as possible."

Sadie thanked him and retreated to the porch, her legs heavy and her arms tingling despite Elijah's salve. As she sank into the rocking chair with her book, Zimri's steady pounding resumed, blending with the faint buzz of cicadas and the occasional burst of his good-natured laughter.

 CHAPTER TWELVE

The day arrived for the Rocky Corners Founder's Day summer picnic, and the Ozarks sky seemed poised to meddle with the celebration. Heavy, steel-gray clouds loomed low over the horizon to the west, their edges tinged with the faintest glimmer of sunlight. A stiff breeze carried the smell of rain and earth, ruffling the banners that adorned the bandstand and stirring the faint hum of excitement among the townsfolk. Yet, no one seemed particularly concerned. The picnic grounds were a flurry of activity, with long tables arranged in tidy rows, benches wiped clean of dew, and barrels and crates scattered for makeshift seating. Aromas of warm biscuits, sizzling ham, and fruit pies wafted from nearby food stands.

The bandstand was resplendent in red, white, and blue bunting, with a bold American flag fluttering proudly overhead. The creak of wood and the rhythmic thud of hammers ran out as several men finished setting up horseshoe pits while checkerboards were carefully placed atop barrels for the day's competition. Laughter and chatter filled the air as children rushed to the board swings tied securely to tree limbs and scrambled onto wooden teeter-totters that groaned with the motion of children rising up and down.

South of the main festivities, a small petting zoo drew squeals of joy. Baby goats, lambs, and bunnies wriggled under the soft hands of delighted children. Next door, Dick Payne's Shetland pony, Daisy, awaited her turn in the spotlight. The little brown-and-white pony's harness gleamed with silver bells, jingled softly as she pawed the ground. The bright tinkling sound mingled with the chatter of voices and the occasional bark of a dog, adding to the carnival-like atmosphere.

The program promised entertainment for everyone. David Winters' Nubia band was scheduled to perform under the bandstand awning, and Zeke Laney was slated to deliver the mayor's welcome speech at noon, officially opening the picnic.

Elijah found the sheriff in the office next door to the mercantile. He dropped by to see his best friend before heading to the picnic grounds. "Ross Montgomery! I haven't seen you in a coon's age. I see you're still alive." Elijah's laugh hinted at a close friendship with the rugged rancher.

Ross pushed his cowboy hat off his forehead and pushed his hand toward Elijah. "Doctor! Good to see you again, too. Is that snow on the rooftop?" Laughter rang through the sheriff's office.

Elijah's laughing mouth dropped into a concerned frown. Racing to the mirror on the wall, he combed through his dark hair with fingers, searching for the gray hair Ross alluded to. There was none. Turning back to the rancher, he shook his head. "No snow today!"

Andrew Crowe held the deputy badge in front of his his trusted friend. "We need to keep things under control today—less pickpocketing, fewer brawls. That's the goal," Andrew said, pinning the tin star onto Ross's well-worn leather vest. The star caught a glint of sunlight from the office window, shining as brightly as the gleam in Andrew's eye. He sank back into his desk chair, satisfied.

"Congratulations, Ross," Elijah offered the rancher.

Ross stood tall—broad-shouldered and towering almost a foot over Andrew. His gray eyes, sharp and steady met Andrew's with an amused tilt. "I'll do my best," he promised, his deep voice carrying the easy confidence of a man who could handle himself in a scrape. "Though it's been a while since I've had the chance to stretch my fists in a proper rumble." A roguish grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he folded his long frame into a chair.

Andrew chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, try to keep it civil…and keep your eyes off my sister, if you can manage it."

Ross laughed, throwing his head back and scratching the back of his neck with a calloused hand. "Now, that might be the hardest part of today," he admitted, his grin widening. The truth of it was no secret: Ross was sweet on Abigail Crowe, and the feeling was mutual, though the pair had yet to make anything official. His ranching responsibilities often kept him far from town, but today he'd resolved to make an effort.

"When are you finally going to ask her to get hitched?" Andrew took the liberty of asking, leaning forward with a raised brow. He’d known Ross since they were boys, and he couldn't imagine a better match for his sister.

Ross leaned back in his chair, his gray eyes softening as he replied, "Funny you should ask. I'm planning to bid on her dinner basket today. Figured we could have ourselves a nice, long talk."

Andrew smirked. "Do I need to give her a hint?"

Ross shook his head with an easy laugh. "I can handle it, thanks." Confidence underlined the twinkle in his eye and the slow, satisfied smile.

Elijah shifted in his seat. "Thinking of settling down, Ross? Fill that ranch house with lots of little ones?"

The three men laughed together. Suddenly, Andrew stopped and looked at Elijah. "And what about you, Doctor Brownstone? It's time for you to think the same thing. Find a wife and settle down. Leave that circuit to someone else and stay in town."

"Funny you said that," Elijah admitted. "I've been thinking the same thing. But I'm not sure I'm keen on marriage."

"All you gotta do…" Andrew said, crossing his long legs on the desktop, "is agree to everything the little lady says."

"Wait a minute," Ross drawled, sitting up straight. "You never said anything about that…"

Laughter once again rang loud and clear throughout the jail.

***

Sadie woke to the soft golden light of morning streaming through the lace curtains. The faint scent of Elijah's lotion lingered on her skin, a welcome reminder of his care. To her relief, the angry red spots on her face was fading, leaving her complexion nearly clear.

Downstairs, the air was sticky with the impending storm. Lillian and Florence moved about the kitchen, their chatter and laughter blending with the clatter of pots and utensils. They were dressed in calico dresses, bonnets hung on their backs, and ready for the picnic.

"There you are!" Florence's voice carried a note of relief. She wiped her hands on her flowered apron and turned to greet Sadie. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Lillian paused, a jar of pickles in her hand. Sharp eyes scanned Sadie's face and arms. "The lotion is working wonders. That rash looks much better."

Sadie offered a small smile. "The itch is nearly gone. I'm feeling better, thank you."

"Good news indeed. The food's ready, so go ahead and prepare your dinner basket." Florence grinned.

"Today's the day," Lillian's voice had a singsong lilt to it. Looking at the jar of pickles she held, "My pickles are going to win that blue ribbon!" She kissed the jar lid and tucked it into her basket.

"Oh, I can't wait!" Sadie's smile lit her face.

A sharp knock interrupted them, and Sarah Ann's cheerful face appeared around the screen door. "Yoo-hoo, it's just me!" She swept inside a bundle of printed picnic programs in hand. She looked lovely in a sage green dress with a matching sash tied about her waist. "Sadie, you look almost as good as new!" She turned to Florence, her expression glowing with purpose. "Zeke asked me to deliver these. This year's picnic promises to be unforgettable. And Florence, I'll announce your community library project—it's about time this town had a proper place for books."

Florence's cheeks pinked. "Thank you, Sister. Let's hope the library becomes as popular as you think."

"It will," Sarah Ann said with confidence. She leaned closer, her tone conspiratorial. "The weather isn't promising though. The clouds out west look ominous."

"Positive thoughts, dear Sister," Lillian interjected. "We'll have sunshine until the day is done."

By noon, the picnic grounds buzzed with excitement. The chatter of families and the shrill laughter of children mingled with the rhythmic clop of hooves as Dick Payne's pony trotted around the makeshift corral. Beneath the towering shade trees, clusters of older folks fanned themselves, the dappled sunlight casting shifting patterns across their weathered faces.

Sadie and the sisters added their baskets to the long table of food, where Sue Ellen presided with a tight-lipped smile. When she saw Sadie, her smile faltered, replaced by a sharp glare.

"Elijah told me what happened to you," Sue Ellen said with a sniff. "Maybe next time, you'll steer clear of trouble and avoid the poison ivy." She shoved a numbered card into Sadie's hand, her disdain palpable.

Sadie's fingers curled around the card, her voice steady. "I plan to."

Sue Ellen turned her attention to the next basket. Sadie walked away, her head held high, though her cheeks burned and not from the poison ivy.

The clang of the town bell silenced the crowd as Zeke Laney stepped onto the platform, his broad shoulders framed by the swaying banners above him. "Welcome, everyone, to our town's Founder's Day Picnic!" His deep voice boomed over the gathering. "We've got a fine day ahead of us, full of music, fellowship, and, of course, good food." Pastor Thomas Horton opened the day with prayer.

Sadie stood with Florence and Lillian, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. She spotted Caroline and Andrew nearby, their son, Brady, wriggling in Andrew's arms. Across the way, Horace lingered near Sue Ellen at the basket table, his face lined with quiet resolve. The friends she had made recently were also in the crowd with their families, each eager to get the day started.

As the basket auction began, Sadie watched Elijah approach, his presence warm and grounding. She shivered with the memory of their last meeting and braced herself. His arm brushed hers as he leaned close.

"What did you pack for us, Sadie?" His smile was teasing, his eyes tender.

"Us?" she replied, her tone light despite the heaviness in her chest.

"Sadie, I'm bidding on your basket. I want to have lunch with you," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

She turned her head to look into his face. "You sure?"

"Yes. I apologize for hurting you the other day. I hope you'll forgive me."

Sadie's thoughts came quickly and easy. "I know you were just being honest. For that, I thank you. And, yes, I forgive you."

When her basket was announced, Elijah's bidding was swift and unyielding, outmatching two other contenders. he strode to claim it, the pride in his step unmistakable. He took her arm, and they made their way through the crowd to a table close to where Sarah Ann and Zimri sat with Florence and Lillian. They passed Ross and Abby, sitting together beside Caroline and Andrew, sitting with Horace and Sue Ellen.

Rubbing his hands together, Elijah was ready to eat. "Let's see what you packed for us!" he said, opening the basket lid. His expression shifted from delight to shock. "Sadie…" His voice was strangled as he pushed the basket toward her.

She stepped forward, her breath catching as she peered inside. Her carefully packed lunch was ruined with dead crickets; their grotesque forms scattered among the sandwiches and lemonade.

Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't understand! I just packed this this morning!" She turned to Elijah, her voice breaking. "I give up!" Overwhelmed, she fled the table, the crowd's murmurs rising behind her.

Elijah bolted after her, leaving the ruined basket on the table. Florence hurried over, her sisters and Horace close behind her. She peered into the basket, her face blanching with shock.

"Who would do such a thing?" she demanded, her voice trembling with indignation.

Sarah Ann's lips pressed into a tight line. "This is no accident. Someone put those crickets in her basket!"

Andrew stepped forward, his jaw set. "We'll get to the bottom of this." He turned as Ross stepped up next to him.

As the sisters returned to their seats, Horace's gaze lingered on Sue Ellen and Caroline, who sat at their table, unperturbed and sipping their lemonade. A shadow passed over his face, his thoughts unreadable.

Something was very wrong in Rocky Corners, and Horace silently vowed to uncover it before Sadie was driven away for good.

 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Elijah strode after Sadie as she fled the picnic grounds, her skirts billowing like sails caught in a storm. He caught her arm and turned her to face him, his grip firm but gentle. Her tear-streaked face was framed by auburn hair tumbling loose from its pins, glinting copper in the sunshine.

"Sadie, I don't understand any of this any more than you," he said, his voice low and imploring. "But I know one thing—"

"No, Elijah! Just let me go!" she interrupted, her voice breaking. her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as she twisted in his grasp. Tears fell freely, leaving damp trails on her flushed cheeks and she was acutely aware of the curious stares from the picnic revelers. Yet Elijah's hold didn't waver.

He said nothing, only tightened his arms around her trembling form, his fingers splayed across the back of her calico dress. The muslin was soft, worn smooth from many washings, and he noted absently the faint scent of roses clinging to her. Slowly, her struggles ceased, and her rigid frame wilted against him. With one hand he smoothed the wild strands of red hair from her face, wishing he could bear her anguish himself.

"Come," he murmured, guiding her to a nearby bench nestled beneath the shade of a large tree. The sunlight dappled through the leaves, casting patterns over the weathered wood and offering a reprieve from watchful eyes.

He settled beside her, their knees nearly touching, and whispered into her hair. "I'm getting to the bottom of this once and for all."

Sadie pressed her face against his chest, the rough weave of his linen shirt absorbing her quiet sobs. A faint scent of whiskey and pine clung to him, grounding her. After a moment, she dabbed her tears with a handkerchief, the edges embroidered with delicate blue forget-me-nots.

"Why even bother, Elijah?" she whispered, her voice raw. "Just let me go. I'll return to Indiana, where I belong. Living here isn't working."

Elijah tensed, his jaw tightening as he took her hands in his. Her small fingers were cold despite the warmth of the day. "No, Sadie. Don't talk of leaving. This town needs you. The children at school—Tommy, Sammy, Michael—they need you. My great-aunts depend on you…" He hesitated, his heart constricting. His words of endearment remained unspoken, caught in the tangle of guilt and fear.

"I don't want to disappoint anyone," she said, trembling. "But my heart is breaking. I've prayed and tried to face this with grace and compassion, but it's only getting worse. Someone was in the schoolhouse, and now my notes on the children are missing, and the planning book is gone! I've worked so hard making lesson plans for three months. Now they're missing!"

Elijah's brow furrowed, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Shaking his head, he said, "Stealing your work would make you look incompetent and cause you to do more work." He knew well enough who bore the brunt of the blame. His mother's biting disapproval and Caroline's relentless schemes had made Sadie's living here nearly unbearable. It was time to confront them both.

"Elijah," she said suddenly, lifting her tear-filled eyes to his. "Do you have feelings for Abigail Crowe?"

Her words struck him like a blow. "What?" he blurted, his voice sharp with disbelief. "I told you, Sadie." He shook his head, humorless laughter escaping him. "Ross was just talking about seeing Abby today!"

Sadie blinked, startled. "But Caroline said…"

Elijah's laugh turned bitter. "Caroline," he growled, the name a bitter taste in his mouth. "Abby is her closest friend and she's always wanted me to marry Abby."

Sadie's lips pressed into a thin line as she shook her head. "So, she lied. Her hatred of me…it's relentless. She won't stop until I'm gone."

He exhaled heavily, the weight of his failure to protect her settling like an iron band around his chest. Taking her hands once more, he looked into her eyes, his resolve hardening.

"Promise me you'll stay long enough for me to fix this. I'll speak to Andrew and, if necessary, my father's lawyers. This ends now."

Her voice was soft yet resolute. "And if it doesn't?"

"Then," he said, swallowing hard, "if you're still set on leaving, I won't stop you."

She studied him, her grip tightening on his arm. "Promise me if this doesn't stop, you'll let me go."

He nodded solemnly. "I promise."

And as Elijah spoke, a new determination surged through him. The chaos surrounding Sadie would end—whatever it took.

***

Sadie's heart lifted, light as a feather, as Elijah's words reassured her about Abby. Relief washed over her, though a twinge of guilt flickered in the corners of her mind. If she couldn't have Elijah for herself, she didn't want any other woman to marry him. It was selfish, she admitted, but it was the unvarnished truth. And truth mattered above all else.

For years, she'd carefully buried her feelings for Elijah. She resolved to keep them hidden still. Whatever happened with the mysterious barbed wire and the dead crickets incidents, she would decide whether to stay in Rocky Corners or return to Indiana. For now, she would cherish this moment of clarity and friendship.

Sadie smiled warmly at Elijah and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. "Thank you. I feel better. Let's go back to the picnic. We need to see if Lillian's pickles won the contest! And…" She paused, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm not letting anyone run me off so easily." Rising to her feet, she waited for his response.

A grin spread across his face, lighting up his features. He leaped to his feet, grasped her hand, and said, "That's the spirit. Let's go!"

The picnic grounds were buzzing with anticipation as they joined everyone. The makeshift stage was a humble affair of wooden planks atop barrels, but it carried the weight of excitement as the judges prepared to announce the winners. Lillian stood with the other entrants, her hands nervously twisting her apron. She caught sight of Sadie and Elijah weaving through the crowd, and Elijah gave her an encouraging thumbs-up. Lillian's tight shoulders relaxed as a smile flickered across her face.

Elijah guided Sadie toward Florence and Sarah Ann, who stood under the shade of several trees. The judges, Austin Knight, Henry Harbourt, and Audrey Lowe, huddled together, their papers and pencils in hand. The two men nodded earnestly at Audrey's suggestion, their expressions dancing with approval and dissent. A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd as the deliberations continued.

Finally, Audrey stepped forward, holding her paper high like a herald. "Folks, we have no entries for sweet pickles or relish this year," she called in her best booming voice. "All submissions were dill pickles. And here are the winners for this year's contest."

Clapping and cheers rose as the contestants were invited onto the stage. Lillian joined the other women, each clutching hope tightly. A hum of speculation rippled through the crowd as the judges conferred one last time. The moment was electric with anticipation.

"Fourth place goes to Liza Akehurst!" Audrey announced.

Liza, her graying curls escaping a neat bun in the rising humidity, stepped forward to shake Austin's hand as Henry handed her a green ribbon. She lifted it high, beaming at the crowd.

"Third place goes to Phoebe Clayburn. Judges noted the delightful hint of sweetness in her brine—a unique twist!"

Phoebe, a sturdy woman with a quick smile, stepped forward to claim her yellow ribbon. Her cheeks flushed with pride as she waved to the crowd.

"Second place, a most dubious place of honor, goes to Laura Lamott!" Audrey's voice was jubilant, but Laura's expression shifted from eager expectation to thinly veiled disappointment.

Laura Lamott stepped forward, her head held high despite the hint of a furrow forming between her perfectly arched eyebrows. Dressed in a tailored navy-blue walking suit with a high lace collar and a delicate hat perched at an angle on her carefully upswept hair, she radiated a poised elegance that set her apart from the more modestly dressed townsfolk. A native of New York, Laura had brought a touch of sophistication to Rocky Corners whenever she married her husband, a man deeply rooted in the Ozarks. Now the local Women's Christian Temperance Union president, Laura's sharp intellect and progressive ideals made her a formidable figure in town.

"Thank you, Audrey," Laura said in a refined tone, her voice smooth and measured as she accepted the red ribbon with a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It is always an honor to participate in this beloved community's traditions, even if one must occasionally yield to another's…interpretation of excellence."

Elijah whispered in Sadie's ear, "Oh no, Laura Lamott is unhappy. Look at her face. She's very competitive and expects to win at most of what she does."

Sadie whispered back, "I see that look on her face. But that means Lillian won!"

Elijah quickly nodded, his grin widening, as Laura returned to her place with her ribbon. Despite her impeccable posture and graceful movements, there was a stiffness to her demeanor—perhaps a silent vow that next year would be hers to claim.

"And now," Audrey declared, drawing out the suspense, "our grand prize winner for the best dill pickles in town is…Lillian Lamberson! Come claim your ribbon!"

Again, the crowd erupted in applause as Lillian hurried forward, her face alight with joy. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she held the shiny blue ribbon high. The judges congratulated her warmly, and Audrey gave her a playful wink. "Lillian's pickles have a little kick to them. Care to share your secret?"

Blushing, Lillian smiled broadly. Her bonnet, slightly askew, framed her flushed face, and tendrils of damp hair curled against her cheeks in the humid air. "I can't share all my secrets," she said with a twinkle, "but I will say this: a little red pepper in the brine, just for a short time, gives the pickles a special spark. And that…" She paused, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush, "…works perfectly with my other secret ingredient."

Spectators laughed and cheered as she kissed the ribbon and started down the steps, her pride radiating like sunlight.

Then, in a flash, her foot missed the bottom step. With a gasp, Lillian toppled forward, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Her bonnet slipped off, and the cherished blue ribbon fluttered from her hands, crumpling into the grass. The festive air turned heavy with shock as cries and gasps rippled through the crowd.

Sadie froze, her hands flying to her lips. "Oh no, Miss Lillian!"

Elijah was already moving, his face a mask of concern as he pushed through the stunned onlookers toward Lillian. The moment of triumph had turned to calamity, and Sadie's heart clenched as she followed close behind, praying for the woman who had just basked in her moment of glory.