As if she had somehow heard Ida’s thoughts, Sophie reached for the bell on her desk and dismissed the students for the day.
Out they flowed, like tumbleweeds rolling across a plain. Little Maggie Jordan shrugged off the attentions of one of the boys—a bully by the name of Everett. Several of the lads raced from tree to tree. Ida watched them all with amazement. How long had it been since she and Sophie had run from that same door, headed out to pick dewberries? And how many years had it been since she’d worn her braids twisted up on her head like so many of these little darlings?
Ida walked up the steps to the schoolroom and peeked inside, taking in the familiar desks and inkwells.
A smiled broadened her friend’s face. “What brings you to our schoolhouse this afternoon?” Sophie asked.
Ida pressed a hair behind her ear and gave Sophie a knowing look. “I’ve come to see what kind of a teacher you make.”
“I’ve heard from the students that I make a fine one,” Sophie said with a laugh. “Of course, I also made a fine waitress for The Harvey House, and a fine worker at the gristmill before that. And I can shoe a horse with the best of ’em. Any other questions?”
“I dare say, you excel at everything,” Ida said with a nod, “which is exactly why I’ve come to ask your opinion on something.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve come to speak with you about a matter of utmost importance to our community,” Ida stressed. “Something I believe you will find very troubling.”
“Ah. I see.” Sophie closed up the classroom and together she and Ida stepped out onto the playground, where several of the children were still gathered around.
“Run along home now, boys and girls,” Sophie instructed. “I’m sure you’ve afternoon chores to get to. We don’t want your parents to worry.”
Everett let out a groan. “Aw, Miss Sophie, you’re no fun.”
“If they had any idea the kind of trouble you stirred up as a child,” Ida muttered under her breath, “they might think otherwise.”
Within a matter of minutes, the students had all scattered to the winds, their childish ramblings now just a whisper among the pines.
“You look as if you don’t feel well,” Sophie commented as they started on the path to town. “Has something happened?”
Ida sighed. “I’m afraid so.” Pulling out a handkerchief, she swabbed the back of her neck to rid herself of the moisture underneath her hairline. “You know that piece of property next to the mercantile?” She folded the hankie and tucked it into her sleeve.
“Yes, of course.”
“Any guesses as to who’s bought it?”
Sophie spilled out a long list of names, and Ida shook her head with each one.
“Who, then?” Sophie asked.
They stopped walking and Ida looked Sophie in the eye. “A stranger. From up North.” She felt foolish as she realized how easily she’d been taken in by the man’s polished exterior. Why, if not for the sheriff’s conversation with Papa, she might very well have continued on with her fanciful notions about Mick Bradley. But no more. Now that she knew the truth, justice would surely follow.
Concern filled Sophie’s eyes. “I’d been told that piece of property would be ideal for a new feed store. Mr. Skinner was looking into purchasing it, wasn’t he?”
“That’s not to be. Mrs. Skinner told Dinah that her husband is considering building on the outskirts of town to avoid the chaos on Midway, or perhaps abandoning the idea of a new store altogether.”
“Can’t say as I blame him.”
“Me, either.” Ida sighed again. “But there is more to the story.”
“Do tell.”
“I heard Papa talking to the sheriff, who stopped by our place just this morning. The new owner of the property next to the mercantile is a gambling-hall fellow from Chicago named Mick Bradley, come to bring more greed and despair to our town. He’s going to open a place for the railroad men to load up on liquor and gamble their earnings away.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Her anger intensified as she continued on. “And right next door to our store, no less. Can you imagine? Isn’t it enough that we have to contend with the brawls from Chuck Brewster’s place? And the Wunsche Brothers’ saloon? The last thing we need is another such place.”
Sophie paused, her brow furrowed. “This is a matter for prayer, Ida.”
“Yes, of course. But don’t you think the Lord would ask more of us?” Ida said as they continued to walk.
“More?”
“Someone has to do something,” Ida implored. “We’ve watched and waited, prayed and pleaded, but things are only getting worse. It’s time to grab the horse by the reins.”
Sophie shook her head. “Oh, Ida. Have you talked to your papa about this? I can’t imagine he would be happy to hear what you’re saying. You know how he feels about your concerns.”
“My papa is a strong man,” she said. “And he has raised a strong daughter.”
Sophie nodded. “To be sure.”
They rounded the corner onto Midway, where activity abounded. Ida clamped her handkerchief over her nose as the overwhelming scent of horse manure assaulted her.
“Little good this does,” she grumbled. The tiny square of cloth could do nothing to block out the mix of nauseating aromas—the ever-present stench of railroad men in need of a bath, the smell of soot from the nearby trains and the overwhelming scent of burnt grease from the restaurant at The Harvey House.
With great determination, she pulled the handkerchief away from her face and looked Sophie squarely in the eye. “I am on a mission,” she stated quite plainly. “One from on high.”
Sophie chuckled. “You have such a way of putting things, Ida. Perhaps you should be writing novels, not just reading them.”
“I am quite serious, Sophie. Have you not read the book of Esther—in the Old Testament?”
“Of course I have.” Sophie gave her a quizzical look. “But what does that have to do with you?”
“Esther was put upon the earth to save her people. The Bible says she was born for such a time as this. Remember?”
“Yes, of course. But—”
“I have no doubt that I was born for such a time as this,” Ida explained, triumphant. “To save our little town from the evil influence of men like Mr. Bradley.”
“Ah.” A hint of a smile crossed her friend’s face. “If I believed anyone were capable of saving our little town, it would be you.”
“Truly?”
Sophie gave Ida a pensive look and arched an eyebrow. “You and the Lord working together, of course.”
They stopped in front of The Golden Spike as Nellie DeVries, one of the dancing girls, sprinted past them in full regalia, almost knocking them down.
“Sorry!” the young woman called out with an apologetic giggle. “Chuck needs me inside.”
Ida drew in a breath and kept walking. “This is just the sort of thing that concerns me most, now that a new gambling hall might be opening up,” she whispered. “Barmaids. Saloon dancers. The few women left in this town will eventually have little choice but to turn to occupations such as these.”
“I do hope you’re wrong.” Sophie fanned herself.