Death of a Dyer (36 page)

“So you knew Richard was innocent right from the beginning?”

“Yes, I knew,” Carleton agreed with a nod. “And I knew you’d want to know why I was there if I told you what I overheard. But you know it now, anyway.”

Rees nodded. “I do. You gambled away most of your property. What happened next?”

“I left. It was almost dark then and I thought I’d return when Nate wasn’t so busy. I swear, one person after another visited him that day.”

Rees sat back, thinking. “Did you see any other horses or buggies in the lay-by?”

“When I got there, an old gray was tied to a tree. But he was gone when I left.”

“And Nate was injured but still alive?”

“Yes. He shouted at me and told me to get out. His wounds were bleeding terribly.…” James shuddered.

Rees eyed at the man across from him. He was back to the beginning if James was telling the truth. Unless Nate bled to death? But the wounds didn’t look that serious. Or was James still lying? But why bother now that Rees knew his secret? “And what is Nate’s secret?” he demanded.

“This is the cook,” Caldwell said from the doorway. “She says Mr. Carleton and the girls have gone to London.”

Rees nodded. “Yes, that is exactly what Mr. Carleton himself tells me.”

“We’ll look after the master, then,” the cook said. A plump woman, she was breathing hard from her dash up the stairs.

“Dr. Wrothman will be along to look at the wound,” Rees told her. He looked back at Carleton.

“Do you know Greek, Will?” James sneered, vindictive to the last.

“Did Mr. Carleton say anything else?” Caldwell said as they left the house.

“He assured me he didn’t kill Nate,” Rees said with a sour smile.

Caldwell sighed. “Nobody did, but the man still lies in a grave.” He paused. “Well, I suppose I should return the buggy to the Bowditch farm.”

“I want to do it,” Rees said. “I want to walk the cottage once again.” He looked at the constable. “I’ll drive my wagon into town and leave it at Wheeler’s. I’ll meet you at the Bull, shall I? Pick up the buggy there.”

“Very well,” Caldwell agreed. He jumped up into the buggy seat and took off. Rees followed more slowly, his spinning thoughts finally beginning to settle into some kind of order. He knew he was finally beginning to understand.

Chapter Twenty-seven

By the time Rees arrived at the Bull, the line of empty glasses in front of the constable indicated many drinks. Caldwell flung back the most recent shot of whiskey and said, “What’ll you have?”

“Beer.” Rees had never developed a fondness for the rough whiskey burn. He looked around. Despite the time, midafternoon, customers thronged the Bull. Mostly men, but also one or two women. He carefully avoided looking at them. He didn’t want to recognize them or, worse, have them recognize him.

“There he is, there’s my brother-in-law.” A heavy hand fell upon Rees’s shoulder. He shook it off.

“Well, Sam.” The buzz of conversation faded into silence.

“I want my wife.”

Rees turned around. His brother-in-law stood just an inch or two shorter than Rees and, liquored up and angry, looked as dangerous as a bear. “You set one foot on my property, and I’ll shoot you,” Rees said.

Casting a quick glance at the men watching behind him, Sam said, “No, you won’t. You’re a woman-man, a weaver. You don’t have the guts.”

Rees shrugged. “I warned you.” Now he looked at the men lined up behind him. “You all heard me.”

“Go home,” Caldwell told Sam. “Go home and sleep it off.”

“Heard you’re getting married again,” Sam said. “Better keep this one on a tighter leash than Dolly. But a ’course you left her alone all the time, so what can you expect but one of King Carleton’s bastards you’re raising as your own.…” Rees hit him. He threw all his weight and strength into the punch, and Samuel dropped like a felled tree. After a second’s shocked silence, the crowd burst into spontaneous applause. Rees, shaking his hand to ease the sting from his bruised knuckles, nodded at everyone and turned back to the bar.

“I think it’s time for me to go,” he said.

Caldwell nodded and drained his glass. “Don’t take what he said too seriously. He’s a troublemaker.”

“I don’t. And you wouldn’t either if you knew Dolly. Besides, David looks exactly like me.”

“Yes, he does,” Caldwell agreed with a smile. “And that new Shaker girl looks like a good ’un.” He clapped Rees on the back and followed him outside to the buggy. “I happened to think, how are you going to come back to Dugard? I’ll follow you in your wagon in an hour or so. And,” he added with a crafty smile, “you can confess what’s going on in that mind of yours. You’ve figured something out, haven’t you?”

“Some things,” Rees said, “but not all. And sometimes just seeing the physical location helps jog something loose.” He looked at the constable, weaving slightly as he stood before him. “I’ll walk back; it’s not that far. And don’t worry; you’ll know everything I know as soon as I’m sure.”

Caldwell nodded. Rees climbed into the buggy and turned the mare west, toward the Bowditch farm.

He drove up to the back door as usual and turned the horse and vehicle over to a stable boy. The farm seemed so familiar now. He walked down to the kitchen. Juniper and Mary Martha were inside, and both looked up hopefully. “Will Rachel return, Mr. Rees?” Juniper asked.

“I doubt it,” Rees said. “She’s working at the Contented Rooster now.”

Juniper frowned. “I’m not a cook,” she declared. “I helped Rachel sometimes, that’s all.”

“Miss Lydia?” Mary Martha asked hopefully.

Rees shook his head. “Do either of you know where Marsh might be?”

“He was here a moment ago,” Juniper said, looking around as though she expected Marsh to appear behind her.

“Where is that clear chicken broth I ordered for Master Richard?” Molly herself fluttered down the steps into the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, walking forward. “I don’t want you here. Get out.”

“I brought back Richard’s buggy,” Rees said, biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t shout at her. “How is he?”

Her face crumpled. “Still unconscious,” she said. Her hands clenched at the delicate fabric of her gown. “But the ball is out. Dr. Wrothman says … he says he thinks Richard will live. But he may have a frozen shoulder. If I find the man who shot my boy, I swear I will kill him myself.”

“Mr. Rees?” Marsh stood just outside the kitchen door. Rees bowed to Molly and turned to the other man. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see the weaver’s cottage again,” Rees said. “Walk the property…” See how many lies he could uncover.

Wordlessly Marsh gestured to the lane leading down to the cottage. Together they tramped down the slope. Almost all the trees had turned now and several were already bare. Rees paused and stared toward the lay-by. The pines would continue to provide a screen but a much thinner one, and horses and wagons would be dimly visible from the road. Marsh lifted the latch and opened the door.

It no longer stank of mildew. Although the door to the dye room was open, the back door was as well and the fresh fall air swept through the house. Rees hesitated in the kitchen. Everything was tidy; the ashes swept from the hearth and the dye pot scrubbed but cobwebs festooned every corner and the cottage appeared long abandoned. Rees stared at the green stain on the floor in helpless grief before finally walking into the dye room. Rachel’s shawl of many colors had been thrown upon the table. Rees picked it up. Knitted of yarns dyed many different colors, it was mostly shades of green with strands of indigo blue, scarlet, and yellow. The lady’s frock and Nate’s apron flapped above him.

“All of this belongs to you now,” Marsh said from the kitchen.

Rees shook his head. “I am not a dyer. Besides, it still feels … it still belongs to Nate.”

“When Nate was alive, this cottage was full of him. Now it just seems empty.” Marsh sighed.

Rees turned around. “Molly must have found it very hard, knowing Nate preferred to live here.”

Marsh nodded. “Very hard.”

Rees brushed past him and went up the back stairs to the loft bedroom. He could easily imagine James Carleton cowering up here while all the action went on below. He heard Marsh’s footfall behind him and turned. “Are you in love with Molly Bowditch?”

Marsh gasped and took several involuntary steps backwards. “Dear God, that would be worth my life. Of course not.”

“But you argued with Nate, told him he should spend more time at the house?”

“Yes, I did. He spent all his time down here, obsessed with finding the perfect dyes. Sometimes he could be infuriating.”

“I know,” Rees said, remembering the many times a parent had been forced to separate them. “He always thought he was right. But I loved him anyway.”

Sudden tears glittered in Marsh’s eyes. “I know.”

Rees glanced around one final time and went downstairs. James Carleton could be telling the truth, or at least part of it, but Rees felt he was no closer to the identity of the murderer. With a heavy heart he followed Marsh up the slope. Caldwell was already there, waiting in the wagon for him.

*   *   *

No opportunity for quiet reflection, or for discussing the case with Lydia, presented itself to him at home. Although all the children had been fed and sent to the cottage with Charles, Caroline remained in the kitchen. She turned to Rees with an expression of fierce curiosity. “Did you find out who shot Richard Bowditch and James Carleton?”

Rees glanced at Lydia. “I had to say something,” she said.

“Charlotte Carleton,” Rees said. Into the sudden shocked silence he added, “She was as opposed to the match between Richard and Elizabeth as Nate.”

“I don’t understand that,” Caro said. “Nate and James were friends and business partners. I should think both of them would be overjoyed to connect the families. I mean, Charlotte has always looked down upon the rest of us as illiterate and ill-bred Colonials, but Nate knew better.”

“He must have known something to Richard’s disfavor,” Lydia said. “No one describes Mr. Bowditch as anything less than fair.”

“If anyone were to object, “Caro said, “I would expect it of Molly. She’s spoiled that boy rotten.” She glanced at her brother. “You should know, Will. You and Nate were inseparable once.”

“We parted many years ago,” Rees replied, unwillingly recalling the treasures in Nate’s trunk. “I haven’t known him since we were boys.”

“Maybe you don’t want to,” Caro suggested shrewdly. “I remember the aftermath of your final quarrel with him. Suddenly you enlisted in the Army. Suddenly you married Dolly. Maybe you should remember why.” Rees stared at his sister.

“That sounds like excellent advice,” Lydia agreed, turning from her position at the dishpan.

In the sudden silence, Rees inspected Caroline. The lines in her face had smoothed out and she appeared relaxed and happy. Although she wore an apron she seemed to be supervising Lydia rather than working herself. “I saw Sam,” Rees said. “I met him in the Bull.”

She collapsed into a nearby chair, her eyes widening with fright. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” Rees lied. Caroline was trembling with terror. “I threatened to shoot him if he set foot on the property.” Recalling Sam’s accusation, he couldn’t resist glancing at David. Besides the red hair and the height that David shared with Rees, he and Charles both had moles under their left arms; Ree’s father had an identical one. David was inspecting his aunt with dislike and unwilling pity.

“You don’t know what he’s like,” Caroline said. “He won’t give up. And he knows this farm; he’ll guess we’re living in the cottage.”

Rees and Lydia exchanged a long look, and then Lydia went over to Caroline and touched her shoulder comfortingly. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll sort it out. He won’t hurt you or your children again.” But she sighed as she said it, dreading more days of Caroline’s presence.

“My babies are alone in the cottage,” Caroline cried, jumping to her feet. “I must go to them.” She ran out of the kitchen.

“What can we do?” David asked.

“I don’t know,” Rees admitted. The sanctity of marriage, and a husband’s control over his wife, were enshrined in law.

“Aunt Phoebe doesn’t like him, and he and Aunt Caro have never visited them,” David said. “Maybe Aunt Phoebe—?”

“That sounds like a good suggestion,” Rees said, nodding. “If Caro agrees…”

He climbed the steps to the quiet second floor. Since Lydia now occupied what had been his weaving room, and dusk was fast approaching anyway, he plodded into his bedroom. Sliding off his shoes, he washed up in the basin and lay down upon his bed. Sam’s cruel accusation rang in his ears even though he knew it was most certainly untrue. But what had Susannah said a few days ago about King Carleton? That he took what he wanted and pursued one woman after another. Rees knew she would never lie. Sam’s accusation could be true about other women in town, maybe even about Dolly. No, that Rees couldn’t believe. He yawned, his thoughts turning too slippery to hold.

He awoke with a start early the following morning, jolted awake by the sounds of Lydia and David creeping downstairs. He lay still, trying to recall the night’s confused dreams. He remembered only that Nate was shouting at him about his will and even that memory was growing fuzzy.

Finally, with a sigh of frustration, he dressed and put on his shoes and followed the others down to the kitchen.

David and Lydia, involved in a discussion of the advisability of going to market on Saturday, turned to look at him in surprise. “I’m sorry,” Lydia said. “Did we wake you?”

Rees shook his head, yawning, and helped himself to coffee. “Strange dreams,” he said.

“That’s not quite done,” Lydia said, looking at his cup.

“Do you think we should go to market?” David asked his father.

Rees shook his head. “No. And not just because of the danger to Caro. Sam has already gone after you once. I want you to wait until that situation has settled out.…”

“I’m sorry,” David said to Lydia. “But you don’t know my uncle like I do.”

“I’m glad of it,” Lydia commented dryly.

Rees sat down at the table. She placed a bowl of mush before him with a dish of honey and a pitcher of fresh cream. He began eating, still distracted by the hints thrown up by his dreaming mind.