Hell's Belle (31 page)

Fletcher looked
even more annoyed. "What
business
would that be? I leave this store
for a few hours—the first time I entrusted him with full responsibility while I
was detained on a personal matter—and I come back to find the whole place
utterly decimated."

"Gee, and
Twila fifty miles away, too."

She smothered her
giggle at that one.

"What's
that
supposed to mean? I never brought her name into things. But, I might point out,
she must have some connection to whatever this sudden business is that called
my son away. What was in Sacramento that was so urgent, Twila?

"I needed to
return something to the Vogels. You may remember them. Manus Vogel and his very
nice granddaughter, Hilde. It turned out our small satchels had been
accidentally confused. I discovered I had hers, not mine. Mine was stolen by
the robbers who took all the luggage. It took me some time to locate the
Vogels, but they live in Sacramento. I went to return Hilde's bag. Lucius
offered to take me because he had something to do for you. A vendor for the
store, I thought he said."

"A vendor for
the store?" Fletcher spat. He hit a key on the cash register and the till
opened. Empty. Not so much as a single coin in the drawer. "Do you know of
a raccoon that can open a cash register machine?"

"Coons?"
Del repeated, grinning. "You got a whole family of coons in here? Good
God, no wonder the place looks like this! I hope to hell there wasn't any water
available anywhere, because—"

"A basin in my
bedchamber. Thank you. I've already discovered their penchant for washing
various items. And what their spoor looks and smells like. On my bed."

Del burst into
laughter at that. Twila couldn't see any reason to suppress hers any longer,
and joined in.

Fletcher merely
folded his arms and glared at the two of them while they laughed themselves
silly. Finally Del sobered, wiping at the corner of one eye. "Sorry, but
this is about the most ridiculous thing I've seen—"

"Since your
horse bucked right through the front window?" Fletcher finished, glowering
all the worse.

"I don't think
that was anywhere near as bad," Twila observed, surveying the store again.
"At least the rest of the walls and counters didn't look—er, everything
wasn't sticky then, or coated with flour and cornmeal."

He clearly was in
no mood to see the humor of the situation.

Del started up the
stairs. "Well, we better get to settling our account with you and leave
you to finish cleaning up." He chuckled again. "Although you might
have to strip the walls and start from the framing out when—"

He broke off at the
sight of the kitchen, which looked much worse than the emporium floor below. Mostly
because where there had once been a stove and sideboard below a window, there
was now a stove and a gaping hole in the wall big enough to step through.

Del glanced at
Twila. "I thought you said a candle had singed some curtains."

"That's all it
was!" she protested in horror. "Honestly, I don't know what could—"

"The filthy
creatures were still gamboling about!" Fletcher interrupted. "I tried
a broom, shooing them every which way. I had no one else here to help me corner
the beasts. Finally, in desperation, I ran for a shotgun. I thought to pepper
their hides so they'd bolt out the window. It was still wide open."

"You blew a
hole through the wall." Del stared at it in amazement. Then he glanced
over at Twila, and she saw mischief dancing in his blue eyes. "Well,
hardly seems worth paying for curtains, then. You got to get a carpenter in
here, and take care of all that trash downstairs. Lucius will have his work cut
out for him, won't he?"

"That's an
understatement," Fletcher seethed. "Lucius will be very fortunate if
I let him live long enough to clean up. To think I entrusted him…" He
shook his head.

"Where were
you
all this time, Uncle?" Twila asked politely. He'd mentioned something
personal that had detained him. She couldn't imagine what he'd meant, but she'd
realized that confession was completely out of character for Fletcher Bell.
Living above his store was nearly a compromise—sometimes Twila felt he'd be
happier if he could live right
in
it. He had no personal life, no life
at all beyond running his precious store. And they'd all been away for a matter
of
days
, not hours.

Where had Uncle
Fletcher been while Lucius had helped himself to whatever had been in the till
and raccoons ransacked the place?

"I was
seeing…someone."

Twila frowned and
looked at Del. He lifted a shoulder, obviously not knowing what to make of that
response, either. The man had turned his back and was making a show of fussing
with broken crockery. Twila could swear he'd mumbled too low to be heard on
purpose.

"You did what?
I didn't catch that."

He rose and turned
back to her, glowering once more. "I was courting someone, if you must
know! Your aunt's been gone several years, in case you'd forgotten. There's no
reason I can't pursue a liaison myself, now that you're married off to this
brute and Lucius is a man fully grown. I'm not yet in my dotage!"

No, but he might be
in the throes of passion, Twila acknowledged, or he never would have left
Lucius running the store and disappeared for—she didn't actually know how long
he'd been away. "Uncle Fletcher, did you stay with this woman?
Overnight?"

Del howled with
glee as Fletcher Bell turned as red as a squashed tomato.

"I certainly
hope you intend to do what's proper," Twila admonished, loving the role
reversal. How many times had he lectured her on propriety and decorum? Dozens,
maybe a hundred times. And here he was, his business in shambles and his face
red with shame, because he hadn't been able to keep his fly buttoned up as
tightly as his pride.

Another secret wish
had come true, and she was here to witness it. Uncle Fletcher in the midst of a
true comeuppance.

Fletcher Bell
cleared his throat and tugged at his vest. "I've already proposed and been
accepted. In fact, she's due here today with her things. She's going to stay at
the hotel until we're officially wed."

A woman screeched
somewhere below them. All three of them hurried down the stairs to reassure the
customer that appearances were somewhat deceptive. The store wasn't going to
collapse on anyone's head at any second. But when the strange woman gaping in
horror pivoted and spotted Fletcher, her whole demeanor changed.

From horror to
fury. "
This
is the fine store you told me about? This,
this…atrocious
hovel
?"

"Dionisa, I
can explain," Fletcher sputtered. "My son was supposed to be minding
the place while I was—"

"Your son? Is
that the same son you described as 'brilliantly shrewd, with an astonishing
head for figures'? That son? Or is there perhaps another, with weaker mental capacities?"

"Excuse
me," Twila spoke up and offered her right hand. "I'm Twila Bell
Mitchell. Fletcher's niece. And he only has the one son, Lucius."

"Who is
clearly given to fits of rage or maniacal behavior!" She pinned Fletcher
with a glare. "You said he'd accept the situation and—"

"Well now,
ma'am, I don’t allow that's fair," Del corrected. "He was with my
wife on the way to Sacramento when all this happened. I heard they'd gone out
of town and went after them. You see, my wife's expecting our first child, and
I didn't like the notion of her being away from home. Thought I should go
along, just to make sure everything was all right."

"I don't
wonder, when I see the wholesale destruction that young man leaves in his
wake." She turned to Fletcher and wagged her finger at him. "And I
don't think it's one bit amusing, the way you tried to blame this poor young
woman for what is obviously a deep personal flaw within your own get. Have you
had that boy seen by a physician or clergyman? I mean, this kind of anger and
resentment! I've never beheld the like. Can you imagine the rage it would take
to break everything and fling goods every which way like this?"

Fletcher shook his
head. "It wasn't him. I'm trying to tell you—"

"Oh, don't try
to pull the wool any further over my eyes, Fletcher! You said he'd need time to
adjust to the idea of our marriage. If this is any example of how he reacts—merely
to the idea of you courting me—I don't want to envision what we'd have to
contend with if you announce we plan to wed. Why, he might take an ax and
murder us in our marriage bed!"

"Lucius didn't
do this!" Fletcher exploded, banging his fist on the counter. "It was
goddamned raccoons!"

Dionisa jumped
back. Literally. Her eyes went even wider and her face lost all its color.
"Oh, my God! I see how it is now. Really, I'm terribly sorry, but I think
this has all been a dreadful mistake. I can't marry you. I…I think it's best I
leave now."

"Dionisa, you
don't mean that!" Fletcher rushed around the counter, but the woman all
but dove behind Del, clutching at his sleeve.

"Don't let him
hurt me, please! I just want to get out of here. My buckboard's hitched out
front. I can drive myself back home. Just please, keep him away from me."

Twila realized the
woman's terror was genuine. The joke had gone too far. "He wouldn't hurt
you, ma'am. My uncle can be cantankerous at times, but he's had a very trying
day. You don't understand how distressed he is. He's always very neat and
punctual and…" She desperately tried to think up some other good qualities
to recommend Fletcher as a husband.
Any
good qualities at all.

"And his
ciphering is never wrong. He can figure amounts to the penny."

The woman's eyes
fixed on Twila and narrowed slightly. "I shouldn't think
you'd
have
anything kind to say about him. I already know how he figures money, down to
the very last penny. Do you know he tells me you've cost him over four thousand
dollars in damages in the time you lived under his roof? Five dishcloths,
eighteen chipped cups and saucers. I've forgotten how many broken plates. He
keeps a list."

Dionisa turned to
Fletcher, moving from behind Del. Apparently she was growing more peeved than
frightened. "And I think it's all been one big monstrous
lie
."

"No, not at
all, I—"

"You've blamed
every minor mishap or problem on this girl. You should be ashamed of yourself,
Fletcher Bell! It's very clear to me what's really been happening here. You
take out your own frustrations in displays like this, then have the gall to
blame the breakage on a helpless female. Your own ward. How very small of
you."

"Yeah, isn't
it, though?"

Everyone seemed to
have forgotten Del, standing silently in their midst, listening but not saying
anything for the last few moments. His voice now was soft but commanding. The voice
he'd used that first day, when he'd vowed to pay for the damages his runaway
horse had caused.

"Don't blame
you for having second thoughts, ma'am. Twila doesn't live here anymore. Before
she left, he had the whole town believing she was some kind of Jonah or witch.
Never had a good word to say about her. And I don't mind telling you, I smashed
his face in and eloped with her because I just couldn't take one more foul
incrimination coming out of his mouth. But
you
won't have a beau waiting
to take you away, now will you?"

Fletcher sagged
onto a nearby stool. His facial expression looked totally defeated. Twila hadn't
seen him so bereft since Aunt Lavinia died. Her uncle had always seemed
indomitable. Twila threw a worried glance toward the ceiling. Maybe it
would
cave in. She'd believe almost anything at this point.

Except what Del
said next.

"But you know,
it could be that old Fletcher is just miserably lonely. He loved his wife with
everything he had. Looks like he feels much the same about you. Just the
thought of you walking back out that door has him miserable. He was mad about
the store goods and all, sure. But mad with a fire…that seems to have gone out
at the thought of you leaving."

"Well, that's
all to the—"

"No, ma'am,
it's not to the good. He's got too much pride, I'll grant you. But you know
what else? Fletcher's got a town full of customers who know he stands behind
what he sells. If they need something special ordered, he'll get it for them.
If there's a problem, he'll make it right. He's honest and hardworking, and
maybe he just needs a woman to appreciate that."

"Dionisa, if
you'd just let me explain," Fletcher interjected, coming to his feet.
There was a tenderness in his voice and eyes. Twila watched, enthralled, unable
to quite believe the scene playing out before her. Del was defending her uncle.
More that that, he was using his masculine appeal and that voice he put on—that
very persuasive voice women couldn't ignore—to coerce this woman into giving
Fletcher Bell a second chance.

"See,
Fletcher's biggest problem is he wants everything to be so perfect, so right
all time, he tends to see little mistakes and problems as being a lot bigger
and more important than they are. He magnifies them in his own mind. I think he
just needs a good woman to restore his sense of balance and proportion. I know
marrying Twila has done that for me. I know what's truly important now. My
wife, and our child due late next spring."