When Love Calls by Lorna Seilstad Page A

early. What if this was his house?
    Jogging down the sidewalk, he zigzagged around the people crowding the sidewalk, all of them trying to determine the fire’s location. He nearly tripped over a little girl who stepped into his path, but caught himself and raced on. A bell clanged to his right. He halted. A hook and ladder cart, pulled by three massive-necked, dapple-gray horses, whipped around the corner.
    Lincoln passed the first three houses on the blocks, ticking off the names of their owners in his mind—the Kauffmans, the Walkers, the Mennigs. Smoke belched from behind Pete’s house.
    He finally drew near enough to see the flames. The crowd of gawkers grew so thick he had to slow.
    “I heard the whole thing.” An elderly woman pointed with her cane toward the smoke. “There was a boom, and then all that smoke filled the air.”
    Lincoln skirted around her. A gas explosion, maybe? If so, no one was safe around here.
    He came to a stop in front of Pete’s palatial mansion and breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever was on fire was behind Pete’s house,perhaps even in the neighbor’s house or yard. He pushed his way through until he was in front of the crowd and then scanned Pete’s yard for any sign of his friend. Pete and his grown son, Albert, stood beneath the side portico watching the action behind their house.
    “Pete!” Lincoln jogged up the steps of the portico, and Pete and Albert turned. “What’s going on? Are you all okay?”
    “We’re fine. The windows sure shook, but nothing broke.” He pointed to the roaring blaze in the back of the house behind him. “Elias Ferguson’s carriage house is going up like a piece of kindling.”
    Lincoln stared at the flames licking the trees around the carriage house, trying to recall the name Elias Ferguson. “The division manager of the Western Union?”
    “Yes, that’s him.”
    “How do you think it started?”
    Pete looked first at Lincoln and then at his son. “There was an explosion of some sort. I’m sure of that.”
    Albert didn’t take his gaze from the blaze. “With all the talk about striking again, there’s sure to be an investigation of this.”
    “You think it was deliberately set?” Lincoln asked.
    Albert, the studious type, shrugged. He seldom spoke more than a few words to Lincoln. For some reason, the young man had a chip on his shoulder when it came to Lincoln.
    Pete laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, Albert’s probably right. With all the union problems, this doesn’t look good.”
    Lincoln heard the snap of a beam from inside the burning structure. If the union wanted things to change, setting a fire at the home of the manager hardly seemed the best way to gain the man’s cooperation. Then again, frustrated men didn’t always think straight.

    What was Walt doing on the front porch of her new home?
    After a quick glance about her to see if anyone from the school was around, Hannah quickened her pace. Thankfully, Rosie had made a stop at the drugstore on their way home.
    Her heart thudded against her rib cage. What if anyone saw him there, especially with the new rules by which she had to abide?
    Walt was bent over with his hands on his knees, his chest rapidly rising and falling. Clearly, he’d run to get there.
    Please, Lord, don’t let there be any more trouble.
    She climbed the steps, and he straightened, pulling the hat from his head. A smile lit his familiar face. “I’m glad you’re home. I—”
    She held up her hand to cut him off. “We can’t talk here. What if someone sees?”
    “Sees what?” He held his palms faceup in a perplexed gesture.
    “You’ve got to go.” Pressing both hands against his back, she started to push him toward the steps.
    “Stop shoving me. I just got here.” He turned and frowned. “Why are you acting so crazy? Did you put your finger in one of those switchboard holes?”
    She fired an exasperated glare at him. “I can’t have gentleman callers while I’m