The Vicky Series: Book 1: Chasing a Dream

Chapter 34

Without thinking she took it from him and looked, realizing it was a receipt book Ernest held, not a notebook. The receipt he had given her was covered with squiggles where he had pretended to write and the words "follow me" were in the space where the amount received would be.

She raised her eyebrows and looked up as Ernest spun on his heels and went through he curtained doorway. Vic turned to follow and saw the man with the cigar step forward. She followed Ernest and quickly stepped through the curtain.

She found herself standing in the back of the post office. Two walls were lined with mailboxes. A telegraph machine sat on a desk that served as a divider separating a seating area from the post office.

"Undertaker makes good money, but mostly business is slow. I'm working for the postmaster and double as the telegrapher when there's a need. Most folks don't want to see the caskets when they get their mail." Ernest removed his jacket and draped it over his arm.

"So as soon as I could, I built a loft and moved the caskets back there. I left the door off its hinges so I could hear that bell. Mrs. Larraby, she's the old lady dressmaker next door, she made me the curtain so she wouldn't have to see the caskets."

Vic smiled politely and wondered why Ernest was telling her all this.

"I reckon we've stayed in here long enough to make them wonder. Go on upstairs and be real quiet. I'll come get you when it's clear."

"Thank you." Vic offered her hand. Ernest shook it.

"I know I'm losing business by helping you" he tossed his head toward the room full of caskets, "but there's a serious shortage of nice teachers out here." He grinned and waved a hand toward the ladder indicating the discussion was over.

Vic watched as he hung his black top hat and jacket on a rack in the corner and put on an apron and visor instead. He grabbed a fistful of mail from the bag on the counter and began sorting it into the mailboxes. She smiled, recognizing the bag she'd carried in on the stage earlier today. She turned and climbed the ladder, hustling as the bell chimed from the other room...

"Can I help you, Sir?" Ernest said as he stood in the doorway changing slowly back into his black.

Vic lay in the shadows just out of sight of the opening and strained to listen. She heard a gruff voice with a thick Spanish accent but the words weren't clear.

"Yes sir." Earnest's loud voice rang clearly, probably for her benefit. "He was here. He paid for a headstone for his sister who died on the trail. He left a few minutes ago. He's coming back in a week to pick up the stone, though. Do you have a message for him?"

She heard the man grumble something followed by footsteps and the little bell again. Vic sighed and looked across the room at the fading light that filtered through the tiny window.

Darkness quickly settled over the city. Soon the lamps would be lit. Hilly streets and tall buildings made deep shadows. Vic wondered how long those men would look for her. The night would give them plenty of hiding places. Ernest poked his head into the loft.

"You might want to stay there for a while—until they get tired of looking for you, at least."

"You said a dress maker lives next door?"

"Yea. Mrs. Larraby. Why?"

"Do you think you could fetch her for me?"

"Huh?" A pause and then, "Oh. Smart."

Ernest returned a few minutes later. Mrs. Larraby sounded irritated. Vic stifled her laughter as Mrs. Larraby complained about climbing the ladder and going through that tiny crawl space. Her vocabulary was laced with very colorful adjectives. Finally Vic heard the ladder creak and struggled to meet Mrs. Larraby with a straight face.