It wouldn’t be so bad if she’d actually learned something of value last night. But Flora had been tight-lipped. Emma’s gentle probes into the woman’s history had earned nothing more than vague generalities and evasive dodges. When she’d questioned her directly about the husband who had beaten her, Flora had practically curled into a ball in the corner of the small steeple area. Her eyes haunted and lost, she’d begged Emma not to ask any more questions. Emma had felt like the lowest of snakes. The poor woman had been abused and abandoned. Of course she didn’t wish to relive that pain. What kind of monster would ask her to?
That left her with nothing of value to report to Malachi when he’d arrived to relieve them. Nothing. And with only two hours’ sleep to fuel her now, she doubted she would accomplish anything of value today, either. She couldn’t even total a simple column of numbers.
Maybe if she got up and moved around . . . splashed some water on her face . . . something.
Emma pushed to her feet and strode out of her office into the main bank building just in time to meet Maybelle as the older woman opened the door and stepped inside.
Forcing a welcoming smile to her face, Emma moved forward to greet the town healer. “Maybelle. So good to see you. You’re looking well.”
“And you’re looking like death warmed over. You didn’t sleep last night, did you, gal.” The woman’s eyes raked her from head to toe, missing nothing.
Emma wilted beneath the scrutiny. “Is it that bad? I’d hoped the burgundy shade of this dress would make up for my lack of vibrancy this morning.” She ran a hand over the deep red sleeve of her best suit jacket, the one she usually wore only to church. She’d even attached her indigo lace collar to her sensible ivory shirtwaist to liven her appearance. Obviously, it hadn’t been enough.
“It helps,” Maybelle said, her harsh tone softening to one of understanding affection, “but it can’t hide the shadows beneath your eyes or the pallor of your skin.” She stepped closer and took one of Emma’s hands in her own. “I know you carry the weight of this town on those slender shoulders of yours, but you’ve got to take care of yourself.” She patted Emma’s hand, and the motherly gesture brought a slight sting to Emma’s eyes. “The stress will eat you alive if you let it. Share your load, child. Get out from under some of that weight. It ain’t good for you. And for heaven’s sake . . . if you’re scheduled for watch duty, get some shut-eye ahead of time.”
Emma laughed lightly at the well-deserved admonishment. “You’re right, of course. And I am sharing the load. Or at least starting to. Mr. Shaw has been a true blessing in that regard.”
“I imagine so.” The woman eyed her speculatively. “Not too hard to look at, either.”
Warmth effused Emma’s cheeks. Maybelle cackled. “Ah! There’s the color we were looking for. Just keep thinking about your handsome Mr. Shaw and no one will notice the shadows under your eyes.”
Emma smiled at the teasing even as she determined to steer the woman clear of any further discussion of Malachi. Leading the way to the counter where most customer transactions took place, Emma searched for a safer topic of conversation. “It was good to see Brother Garrett yesterday. I found his sermon on holding tight to faith amidst fiery trials particularly apropos.”
Maybelle nodded agreement. “He told me afterward that he’d heard about the shooting incident but that he’d had no idea there’d been literal fiery trials until he’d seen the scorch marks on the outside of the church this morning. He commended Mr. Shaw for repairing the worst of the damage in preparation for services. Although, when he’d learned about the charred message left behind in the old boards, he’d been incensed. Promised to report the violation to Sheriff Tabor along with giving an account of the second shooting incident. Said he’d demand the lawman take greater steps to see to our protection. Don’t think it will do much good, but I was sure to thank him for his concern.”
“His advocacy can’t hurt.” Emma reached for the small set of keys she always kept in her pocket. She unlocked the door that separated the customer lobby from the more secure area behind the counter. After closing and locking it again behind her, she moved into the first teller window and fingered the key that would unlock the money drawer. Looking up at Maybelle through the protective bars, she smiled. “His prayers on our behalf will be much appreciated, as well.” She slipped the drawer key into the lock and turned it until that catch popped free. “Now, what can I help you with this morning?”
“Thought I better withdraw some funds, what with the new shipment coming in today. Twenty ought to do it.”
“Very well.” Emma pulled one ten-dollar bill and two fives from her drawer, then counted them into the shallow divot carved into the counter beneath the barred window. Maybelle had a policy against buying anything on credit. Her late husband had been a wastrel who’d left her with a pile of debt after his death. If she didn’t have the cash to pay for something, she did without. Thankfully, her midwifery skills had allowed her to recover her losses after a couple of lean years, and her stint as doctor for Harper’s Station had only improved her lot.