Paper Roses (42 page)

Mary sank onto the bed. When Sarah reached for her feet, intending to unlace Mary’s boots, Mary slapped at her hand. “I ain’t dead yet. Fetch the pills.” She pointed toward her dresser. “And then make a cup of tea.”

Sarah nodded. Though Mary hadn’t asked, she would also bring a ewer of cold water. Cool compresses had been Mama’s cure for fevers. Realizing she’d need both hands to carry the tray, Sarah hung her cane over the doorknob and hobbled into the kitchen. Poor Mary! Whatever had caused the fever, it was obviously severe, for it had turned her friendly neighbor into a stranger.

As she waited for the water to boil, Sarah kept her head cocked, listening for sounds from the bedroom. There were none. Surely that was a good sign, for it must mean Mary had fallen asleep.

Walking as quietly as she could, Sarah returned to the bedroom with the tray. If Mary was sleeping, she’d wait until she wakened before she gave her the medication. Sleep, Mama had said, was the best cure. Sarah was so intent on not spilling anything and on not waking her patient that it was only when she was inside the bedroom that she realized Mary was no longer on the bed. Laying the tray on a small table, Sarah turned.

“No!”

It was easier than he’d dared hope. David was nothing if not a creature of habit, and habit said he would spend Saturday evening in the saloon. There he was, one boot on the rail, an elbow on the bar. Though he wanted nothing more than to drag him out and pummel his face, Clay had no desire to involve the entire town in his argument. He tapped David on the shoulder. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

David raised an eyebrow as he drained his glass. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what you’re going to tell me.” Rather than wait any longer, Clay pulled a coin from his pocket and tossed it onto the bar. “Let’s go outside.”

“What’s the matter?” David demanded when they were far enough away from the saloon that they would not be overheard by patrons. “Can’t a man have a drink with his friends?”

The air was warm and moist, presaging a storm. Powerful as they might be, the natural elements were no match for the fury inside Clay.

“Not the man who killed my brother.”

David took a step backward, recoiling from Clay’s anger. “Are you loco?”

Clay grabbed David’s shoulder. The man was not going to escape, not tonight, not ever. He’d pay for what he’d done. “You might as well admit it. Jean-Michel told me how much you hated Austin.”

David leaned toward Clay and made a show of sniffing. “Nope. It ain’t whiskey that’s addled your brain. I reckon you’re just plumb loco if you think I hated Austin. I didn’t hate him, and I sure as shootin’ didn’t kill him.”

David’s voice sounded sincere. Perhaps it was only a trick of the moonlight, but his face appeared guileless. Clay released his grip. It was clear the man was not preparing to flee.

“I reckon I oughta smash your face for even thinkin’ it. Why would I hurt him? Austin was like a brother.”

Was it possible Jean-Michel had been lying? “Do you deny telling Jean-Michel that you resented Austin, that you wanted to best him at everything?”

David shook his head slowly. “I reckon part of that’s true. I always wanted to do better than him. That ain’t no crime, Clay. Austin was the same way. He spent his life tryin’ to prove he could do things better than you.”

Clay frowned. He’d never thought of his brother as a competitor, but Austin, it appeared, had felt differently. If Clay had been oblivious to that, what else had he missed?

“Sure, I wanted to outdo Austin,” David admitted, “but it was friendly-like. I would never have hurt him.”

David’s words rang with truth. Though Clay wanted to believe them, there was still the matter of David’s prolonged absence from the barn.

“Where did you go the night Austin was killed? Jean-Michel said you left the barn soon after Austin and were gone a long time. Long enough to have killed him.”

Two patrons left the saloon and staggered toward Clay and David. David waited until they were past before he answered. “I went back to get more food for us.” Once again, David’s words rang with honesty. “You know Ma don’t like my friends settin’ foot in the main house.” Clay nodded, remembering the restrictions Mary had imposed on him and Austin when they’d visited.

“I knew she baked a couple pies that day.” David continued. “I figured I’d better ask before I took them. Didn’t want to get no tongue-lashing in the mornin’. Problem was, she weren’t there.” David shrugged. “I reckon she went to the outhouse. I waited a bit afore I went back empty-handed. You know, Clay, I had some mighty riled friends when I didn’t bring no pies.”

The hair on the back of Clay’s neck began to prickle. He wanted to believe David’s story, and in fact he did, but believing it raised a disturbing possibility. “Do you know where your mother was?”

David shrugged again. “Like I told you, I figured she was in the outhouse. By the time the men left, I heard her back in her room.”

Clay clenched his fists as his thoughts continued to whirl. Had he been wrong? He’d always believed the killer to be a man, but what if he’d been mistaken? Austin trusted Mary. That meant he would have let her come close enough to shoot him. She had had the opportunity, for according to David, she’d been gone at the critical time. Clay knew she was an excellent shot and strong enough to have lifted Austin onto Nora’s back. If she had had a reason, Mary could have killed Austin. The question was, what possible reason could have made her shoot Clay’s brother?

When Clay clapped David on the shoulder, it was a friendly gesture, not a restraining one. “I believe you.”

He mounted Shadow and headed for home, deep in thought. As difficult as it was to believe Mary was a murderer, everything pointed to her. As for the reason, from the beginning Clay could not understand why anyone would have wanted Austin dead. But humans were not necessarily logical, as his conversation with Jean-Michel had proven. Only a twisted mind would have believed the way to woo a woman was to destroy her brother’s reputation. Was Mary equally disturbed? Clay didn’t know. What he did know was that tomorrow would be soon enough to confront her. That would give Clay time to think, time to phrase his questions, time to tell Sarah everything he’d learned.

Soon after he passed the Lazy B, Shadow began to whinny. “What’s wrong, boy?” Clay patted the horse’s neck. There must be a reason for his restiveness, for his stallion was not easily spooked. Shadow tossed his head and strained, clearly unhappy with Clay’s pace. Something was definitely wrong. Clay looked around. Nothing seemed amiss. He listened. The evening sounds were ordinary, the hoot of an owl, the rustle of a rodent. Clay sniffed, then stiffened as he realized what Shadow sensed. Something was burning.

Fear brought a burst of energy along with the realization that he had to help. Fire was every man’s enemy. No matter what animosities existed, when a man’s livelihood was threatened, everyone helped. If Karl Friedrich’s house was on fire, Clay would be there, pouring water onto the flames. Shadow needed no encouragement to gallop. As they crested the hill, Clay’s fear turned to sheer terror. It wasn’t the Friedrichs’ house. The Bar C was burning!

“Let’s go!” Clay bent low as Shadow increased his pace. There was no telling how long the fire had been burning. All he knew was that he had to reach the ranch. Sarah needed him. She was alone with Pa, and with her injured leg, she would need help getting him to safety.

“C’mon, Shadow. Faster.” Clay’s heartbeat was quicker than Shadow’s hooves as he raced toward the ranch. Soon. They’d be there soon. His eyes scanned the road mechanically, looking for snakes and holes. He listened for the sound of predators. Nothing could delay him. He had to reach Sarah.

“Just one more hill,” he told Shadow. “Then we’ll be there.” But when they reached the top, Clay’s heart stopped.
No!
Please, God, no!
It couldn’t be!

21

Sarah felt the blood drain from her face. Standing a mere five feet away was Mary, a pistol in her hand. What was she doing? The woman was ill. She should have been in bed.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady herself. Had Mary heard an intruder? Did she fear that Ladreville’s thief had come to take her valuables? Mary had no way of knowing that even now Clay was at Gunther’s, attempting to catch the thief.

“You’re what’s wrong.” Mary took a step closer, keeping the barrel of the gun pointed at Sarah. “Give me your earrings.”

Something was desperately amiss. Though Mary had appeared ill a few minutes ago, unable to stand without assistance, now her posture bore no sight of frailty. Only her eyes glinted with unusual brilliance. What was happening? Sarah thought quickly, remembering the oddities she’d attributed to Mary’s fever. She’d claimed she’d gone to the Bar C to find Clay, and yet she already had medicine from Dr. Adler. She’d claimed all the servants were gone, but Jake was here. And now she was demanding Sarah’s earrings.

“I won’t give them up.”

Mary shook her head. “You will. They’ll be mine, just like the locket and the watch.” With one hand, she pulled a gold locket from inside her collar. Mary had been wearing it the day Sarah had met her. Sarah’s heart sank as she recalled how she’d admired it, how Thea had wanted to play with it, how Mary had claimed it was a gift from her husband. Mary had lied.

She didn’t have to examine it, for the sickening feeling deep inside her told Sarah this was Patience’s locket. Bile rose to her throat as she considered how it must have come to be in Mary’s possession. Sarah clutched the edge of the table as waves of horror washed through her. The locket and the watch, Mary had said. Only one person in Ladreville had lost a watch.

“How did you get them?”

Mary laughed, a laugh that sent shivers down Sarah’s spine. “I think you know.” She laughed again. “Look in there.” Mary gestured toward a carved wooden box on top of the bureau. “The baubles were little enough compared to all that I lost.”

Her legs weak with fear and horror, Sarah moved to the bureau. As she expected, the box contained a man’s watch open to reveal her miniature. “How did you get this?” she asked again. Surely what she feared wasn’t true. Surely Mary wasn’t the person who’d killed Clay’s brother.

“The same way I’ll get your earbobs. When we’re done here, you’ll put my little pills in the cup and drink that tea. They worked for Patience; they’ll work for you. The only difference is, she didn’t know what was comin’. You will.” Mary waved the gun as she shook her head. “I liked you, Sarah. I really did. If you’d agreed to marry David, I wouldn’t have to do this. But you wanted to be a Canfield bride, so now you’ve gotta die just like the others.”

The woman was mad. It was the only explanation. Sarah gripped the edge of the bureau as her leg began to buckle. “What did they do to deserve this?”

“They took what shoulda been mine. Now they’ve gotta die. All of them.” Mary waved the gun again. “You’re next.”

Help me, Lord.
Sarah said a silent prayer. Somehow, some way she had to escape. But how? With her injured leg, she couldn’t go far, especially without the cane. She had no choice. She had to get out of here. She had to find Clay. Perhaps if she distracted Mary, she could reach the cane.

“I don’t understand,” Sarah said as she inched toward the edge of the bureau. “What was stolen?”

“Land!” Though nothing was amusing, Mary laughed. “All the land oughta been mine and David’s. Mine, not theirs.”

Sarah nodded, hoping Mary would focus on her face, not her legs.

“It weren’t fair. My husband died in the war. He oughta been rewarded, but he weren’t. Robert Canfield got the land.” Mary’s voice rose until she was shouting. “It weren’t fair. I deserved that land. Michel Ladre shoulda paid me for it, not Robert.”

Sarah took another step toward the cane. “I understand.” She used the voice that calmed Thea’s tantrums. What Sarah understood was that Mary’s grievance, which should have been directed at the State of Texas, had taken on maniacal proportions, and she had turned Clay’s family into scapegoats.

“It shoulda been mine,” Mary repeated. “I knew that. That’s why I tried to get Robert to marry me. He refused. The old fool refused me.” The laughter that burst from Mary chilled Sarah. “He got his punishment. Look at him now, helpless as a baby in that chair.”

Sarah nodded slowly as she took another step. All doubts about Mary’s sanity had disappeared. The woman was mad, and that made her doubly dangerous, for there was no predicting what she would do. There was also no stopping her, for she would not listen to reason. It was only by God’s grace that Mary didn’t appear to realize Sarah was moving.

“When Robert refused me, I knew what I had to do. If I couldn’t become a Canfield, I would make sure the bloodline died.” She fingered Patience’s locket again. “I couldn’t let Clay’s wife give him a child. She had to die before the baby was born. That’s why I poisoned her bowl of chowder. I thought that would be the end. But then Austin decided he’d marry, and it was his time to die.” Mary let out another blood-chilling laugh. “It was easy to kill him. Even when he saw the gun, he didn’t try to escape. He was as much of a fool as his father. Nobody figgered a woman could kill. They were wrong.”