tone. “Five dollars ain’t enough fer the whole lot.”
The man narrowed his eyes at Mr. Cobb. “Surely that amount was a mistake?” The pointed stare he gave the shopkeeper made it clear his question was a statement. “The fox fur and ermine alone are worth more than that. Each.”
Mr. Cobb shifted, and his glance darted away from Mr. Carter. “I’m full up. No call for furs.”
“We’re in Montana, man. There will be a call soon enough. Why else have that storeroom tacked onto the back of your shop if not to have a place for extra goods?” He let his words hang in the air.
When Cobb didn’t answer, Mr. Carter turned to Antonia with a smile. “Course, I could always take the whole bundle. I’ll make you a generous offer.”
Mr. Cobb settled his hand on the top of the pile. “No! No cause to do that!”
Mr. Carter winked at Antonia before turning back to the shopkeeper. “Pay her fair, Cobb,” he warned. “Then I’ll buy the silver fox and the ermine from you. Otherwise, I’ll finagle the whole lot right out from under you. And that deal will be exactly what you deserve.” He didn’t say, for trying to cheat the woman , but his silence spoke the words.
“All right,” Cobb muttered in a grudging tone.
“I’ll just wait right here for you to finish your transaction.”
“No need to keep you waiting, Mr. Carter. Let me get you what you need.”
“The lady was before me,” the gentleman said firmly. “See to her needs first.”
“Thank you kindly.” Antonia conveyed through her expression how grateful she was for his intercession.
Cobb named a price that sounded similar to what she knew Jean-Claude had received in the past. She glanced at Mr. Carter, and he gave her a nod that approved the amount. Too distressed to bargain further, she nodded in agreement.
Mr. Carter smiled in obvious approval. “Keep the fox and ermine for me until I come to town without my wife,” he told the shopkeeper. “Have to keep this a surprise.”
Mr. Cobb jerked a nod. He scooped up the armful of furs. “Let me put these in the storeroom.”
Seeing him hurry across the shop, Antonia realized she was watching the last of Jean-Claude’s work disappear, and she almost cried out to stop the merchant. Don’t be ridiculous , she scolded. Jean-Claude would have sold them, too. And you still have the bear fur, and the sleeping furs, and. . .the boys. She inhaled a steadying breath.
Through my sons, I’ll always have Jean-Claude with me. I can get through this. . .for them.
CHAPTER SIX
A s Erik drove the wagon down Second Street toward the cabinetmaker’s shop, he cast an eye upward at the sky, judging the position of the sun. He couldn’t believe after everything that had happened the time was only midday. I never thought I’d be buying a coffin for my wife. He remembered how Daisy had looked, lying on the bed in death, and could not even feel grief; his guilt was so strong it bound him like chains. I just left her there. . . .
When Erik neared the shop, he realized he didn’t have money with him and almost reined in the horses. I need that coffin today! Just the thought of his wife’s body lying in the house another day. . .he couldn’t allow that.
I’ll have to give O’Reilly my pledge to pay.
Shame stuck in his craw at having to use credit again. Made him feel beholden—although he knew that wasn’t the case. He had money squirreled away. Of course, most of their savings had been aimed to pay back the banker for the loan of money Erik had used to build the barn and purchase the three new milk cows.
Maybe Daisy was right. I was reckless, buying on credit. They’d fought about the decision, and, determined, he’d gone his own way. Afterward, she didn’t speak to him for three days. Remembering made the heavy chains around his heart clank.
Erik flicked the reins, and the horses ambled on. He drew up before a wooden building with a false front. “Phineas O’ Reilly, Coffin
The man narrowed his eyes at Mr. Cobb. “Surely that amount was a mistake?” The pointed stare he gave the shopkeeper made it clear his question was a statement. “The fox fur and ermine alone are worth more than that. Each.”
Mr. Cobb shifted, and his glance darted away from Mr. Carter. “I’m full up. No call for furs.”
“We’re in Montana, man. There will be a call soon enough. Why else have that storeroom tacked onto the back of your shop if not to have a place for extra goods?” He let his words hang in the air.
When Cobb didn’t answer, Mr. Carter turned to Antonia with a smile. “Course, I could always take the whole bundle. I’ll make you a generous offer.”
Mr. Cobb settled his hand on the top of the pile. “No! No cause to do that!”
Mr. Carter winked at Antonia before turning back to the shopkeeper. “Pay her fair, Cobb,” he warned. “Then I’ll buy the silver fox and the ermine from you. Otherwise, I’ll finagle the whole lot right out from under you. And that deal will be exactly what you deserve.” He didn’t say, for trying to cheat the woman , but his silence spoke the words.
“All right,” Cobb muttered in a grudging tone.
“I’ll just wait right here for you to finish your transaction.”
“No need to keep you waiting, Mr. Carter. Let me get you what you need.”
“The lady was before me,” the gentleman said firmly. “See to her needs first.”
“Thank you kindly.” Antonia conveyed through her expression how grateful she was for his intercession.
Cobb named a price that sounded similar to what she knew Jean-Claude had received in the past. She glanced at Mr. Carter, and he gave her a nod that approved the amount. Too distressed to bargain further, she nodded in agreement.
Mr. Carter smiled in obvious approval. “Keep the fox and ermine for me until I come to town without my wife,” he told the shopkeeper. “Have to keep this a surprise.”
Mr. Cobb jerked a nod. He scooped up the armful of furs. “Let me put these in the storeroom.”
Seeing him hurry across the shop, Antonia realized she was watching the last of Jean-Claude’s work disappear, and she almost cried out to stop the merchant. Don’t be ridiculous , she scolded. Jean-Claude would have sold them, too. And you still have the bear fur, and the sleeping furs, and. . .the boys. She inhaled a steadying breath.
Through my sons, I’ll always have Jean-Claude with me. I can get through this. . .for them.
CHAPTER SIX
A s Erik drove the wagon down Second Street toward the cabinetmaker’s shop, he cast an eye upward at the sky, judging the position of the sun. He couldn’t believe after everything that had happened the time was only midday. I never thought I’d be buying a coffin for my wife. He remembered how Daisy had looked, lying on the bed in death, and could not even feel grief; his guilt was so strong it bound him like chains. I just left her there. . . .
When Erik neared the shop, he realized he didn’t have money with him and almost reined in the horses. I need that coffin today! Just the thought of his wife’s body lying in the house another day. . .he couldn’t allow that.
I’ll have to give O’Reilly my pledge to pay.
Shame stuck in his craw at having to use credit again. Made him feel beholden—although he knew that wasn’t the case. He had money squirreled away. Of course, most of their savings had been aimed to pay back the banker for the loan of money Erik had used to build the barn and purchase the three new milk cows.
Maybe Daisy was right. I was reckless, buying on credit. They’d fought about the decision, and, determined, he’d gone his own way. Afterward, she didn’t speak to him for three days. Remembering made the heavy chains around his heart clank.
Erik flicked the reins, and the horses ambled on. He drew up before a wooden building with a false front. “Phineas O’ Reilly, Coffin