The Bride's Prerogative (22 page)

CHAPTER 25

M
uch later that evening, Gert poured coffee for Ethan and Hiram at the kitchen table.

Ethan rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Thanks. Mrs. Benton will come after breakfast with Annie Harper, and you can all go over to the livery together to work on the body.” When he glanced up at her, the dark shadows beneath his eyes stood out. A few weeks of sheriffing had aged him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course. I wish I’d done more for her while she was alive. She never begged outright, but I could see she was hungry.”

Ethan blew on his coffee and took a sip.

“Libby said she pilfered a few things from the store,” Gert said. “She felt sorry for her and started giving her leftovers—broken crackers, dented tins, the last pickle in the barrel.”

Hiram’s eyes spoke to her with his direct gaze and quirked eyebrows.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’d best tell Ethan.”

“Tell me what?”

“Mrs. Benton and I drove out to Milzie’s place this morning to visit her.”

Ethan’s brows shot up, but he waited in silence.

Gert cleared her throat. “We, uh, got a surprise. Milzie’s cabin had burned flat.”

“What? When did that happen?”

“No one seems to know. Milzie wasn’t home, but we saw signs that she’s been living in the cave up the hill where Frank tried to mine.”

Ethan nodded. “I know the place.”

“Well, she wasn’t anywhere around, so we stopped at the Robinsons’ on the way home. Lyman and Ruth said they didn’t know. Can you imagine? They live that close to her, and they haven’t been up to her place since last winter. Ruth’s been poorly this spring, I guess. She said Milzie stops in now and again, and they usually give her something to eat. But when we told them the cabin was burnt, they seemed shocked. Lyman took on a case of guilt, saying he ought to have checked on her. But they’d seen her several times this spring, so they figured she was the same as usual.”

“Too bad. I think your shooting club did more for her than anything.” Ethan raised his cup again.

Gert went to the pie safe and took out the leftover flapjacks she’d saved. “I figure it had to happen in the night, and no one saw the smoke. The last Lyman could tell me for sure that he’d seen it standing was early February. You two want a pancake with jam?”

Ethan looked at Hiram before answering. When Hiram nodded, he said, “Don’t mind if I do.”

Gert put the plate on the table between them and took the jam pot from the cupboard. She gave them each a knife, and they set to work spreading the flapjacks with jam, rolling them up, and wolfing them down. She’d meant to save them over for Hi’s breakfast with a couple of eggs, but no matter. These two had done a man’s work this evening, and they deserved a snack.

Ethan ate three and then licked his fingers. “Sugar’s good for folks who’ve had a shock.”

“How shocking was it?” she asked.

“Worse than Bert. A lot worse. I hate to have you ladies see her like that.”

Gert shrugged. “Someone’s got to clean her up. I mean, you can’t just bury a person all …”

“Her clothes are right filthy, too.”

She sat down at the end of the table, with Hiram and Ethan on either side of her. “We should have done more.”

Hiram scrunched up his face as though he’d eaten a mustard pickle. “Do more for someone else.”

“That’s a good thought,” Gert said. “I felt like a hypocrite after Apphia and I saw how she was living.”

“It’s not your job to make sure everyone in Fergus is eating three square meals a day.” Ethan’s face flushed a bit, and he added quickly, “Though I’m grateful for the meals you’ve served this stray.”

“Well, I think Hi’s right that we can do more for other people. There’s a lot of folks living hand to mouth around here. How long since anyone’s seen old Jeremiah Colburn, for instance? He’s got a flock of sheep on his place east of here, but I don’t recall seeing him for a long time.”

“I heard Zach Harper mention him the other day,” Ethan said. “He’d come and wanted to trade three roosters to Zach for a hen. He gave him two.”

“Well, good.” Gert rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “I just hate to think of these poor old people dying alone.”

Hiram drained his coffee cup and set it down. “Milzie wasn’t alone.”

Sadness swept over Gert, and a painful lump rose in her throat. “I’ve been thinking about it.” She pressed her lips together and nodded. “I don’t know what Milzie was doing in Cyrus’s office tonight, but it could have been anyone who was attacked—anyone who went there at the wrong time. It could just as easily have been Isabel who was murdered.”

Ethan frowned, and the lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “Hiram told me about the other night when Isabel saw the man in the alley.”

Gert wasn’t surprised that her brother had told Ethan the tale. They talked a fair amount when she wasn’t around, and Hiram took Ethan’s new responsibilities as seriously as Ethan did. “What if she’d gone looking for her father tonight instead of that night?”

“Yes.” Ethan turned his cup around slowly, as though studying its design. “I’ve kept an eye out since, for men loitering about in the evening.”

Hiram inhaled deeply. “You think that fella might have killed Milzie?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Hiram set his jaw for a minute then shrugged.

“Well, I have ideas about who killed Milzie,” Gert said.

Ethan eyed her cautiously. “Plan on telling me?”

She hesitated. She wouldn’t want him laughing at her. On the other hand, she’d had nothing to do but think while he and Hiram did their duty over at the Wells Fargo office tonight. Maybe she’d had more time to cogitate on it than either one of them had.

“Who found Milzie’s body?” she asked.

“Cyrus Fennel. He’d been over to the Nugget. I saw him leave the saloon carrying a bottle. I left shortly after he did, and I saw him come out of his office all in a dither.” Ethan gave a grim little smile. “I thought he was drunk. He got sick.”

“So did Ned Harmon.” Hiram stood and took his mug to the stove, where he refilled it with coffee.

Gert started to tell him he’d be awake all night if he kept drinking coffee, but she thought better of it. Hiram was thirty-three years old, and he could drink coffee if he wanted to. “So Cyrus was the first to see the body.”

Ethan nodded. “So far as we know.”

“And who found Bert Thalen’s body?”

“Uh … I guess it was Cy—hey, you don’t think—” His forehead furrowed like a plowed field. “You’re not saying one of our leading citizens is going around killing folks, are you?”

“I’m not saying anything. I just think it’s very interesting that we’ve had two murders in this town in the last six weeks, and the same person found both bodies.” She looked at Hiram. “Don’t you find that interesting, Hi?”

He pursed his lips and nodded.

Ethan slapped the table. “You two beat all. Cyrus was here the day Bert died, to pick up his rifle. I saw you shoot it, remember?”

“Yes. But he left here, and we started eating supper.”

“He said he found Bert dead and then ran over to the Walkers’, looking for the mayor.”

“And at some point, he told Griffin Bane,” Gert added.

“That’s right. I think Cy saw him on the street. And I recollect he found the mayor in the emporium, so pretty near everyone in town heard about it.”

Gert nodded. “And tonight he goes into his office alone and comes out yelling murder.”

“Not exactly. But you’re right that he found both bodies.” Ethan pushed back his chair. “Gert, you’re almost making me believe it, and that’s not good. I saw Cyrus just a few minutes before he sounded the alarm both times.”

“Think on it,” she said.

“I will. But right now I’m heading home to get some sleep. I’m frazzled, and there’s a lot to do tomorrow.” He reached for his hat and set it firmly on his head. “Wish I’d brought Scout over here instead of leaving him at the livery.”

“Milzie’s all covered up,” Hiram said. “You won’t have to see her again.”

Ethan nodded without meeting his gaze. “Well, good night. Thanks for helping out, Hi. And Gert, thanks for the eats and the advice.”

She watched him go out and close the back door gently behind him.

“What’s the matter?”

At Hiram’s question, she realized she was scowling. Just the fact that she was disappointed exasperated her. She clawed at her apron strings. “That man.”

“He’s a good man.”

“I know it.”

Hiram cocked his head to one side and waited.

“He called me Trudy last week, and I said …” Still her brother waited. She wished she hadn’t started. Her face was heating up, and she hated that. “Why did you tell him about that anyway?”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“If you’re mad, I am.”

“I’m not mad. Not at you.”

“At Ethan?”

She tugged the knot loose and pulled off her apron. “I told him I didn’t mind, but he went back to calling me Gert.”

“That bother you?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to call you Trudy?”

“No.”

Hiram nodded and carried his and Ethan’s dishes to the worktable and set them down. He walked over to her and stooped to place a light kiss on her cheek. “Didn’t mean to cause a stir. Though some folks beg to be stirred.”

He took a candlestick from a shelf and lit the taper, then shuffled off through the sitting room.

“Humph.” Gert lit a candle and blew out the lamp.

M
ilzie’s funeral drew far fewer mourners than had Bert Thalen’s, though the Ladies’ Shooting Club was well represented. Libby stood between Gert and Apphia in the graveyard near the schoolhouse, while Phineas Benton gave a proper sermon. The only other men present, besides Ethan and Hiram, were Griffin Bane, Micah Landry, and a half dozen old-timers who had known Frank Peart. Through gossip at the emporium, Libby had learned that the curious paid their respects at the livery stable before Hiram sealed the coffin.

Cyrus Fennel and the Walkers did not attend. Isabel maintained her father was laid out by the shock of finding Milzie’s body. That seemed a bit lily-livered for a strapping big man who’d seen a great deal of life, but Libby didn’t question her. Isabel stood on the other side of Gert, stiff and stony-faced.

“I’m surprised Mrs. Walker didn’t come,” Apphia murmured to Libby when her husband finished his homily.

“Cloudy,” Libby whispered back. She didn’t like stretching the truth, but she considered saying unkind things about people to be a worse trespass than covering their pride with a white lie. The truth was, Orissa Walker never admitted the existence of people like Milzie. If the old widow ever entered the emporium while she was shopping, Orissa ignored her and checked out as soon as possible with a twitching nose. Libby knew for a fact that the preacher had asked her to help lay out Milzie’s body, and Orissa had made an excuse, so he’d gotten Annie Harper instead. It made Libby sad, but people don’t change their ways easily. When Apphia got better acquainted with Mrs. Walker, she would probably understand why the mayor’s wife didn’t attend this funeral.

As the Reverend Mr. Benton began his benediction, large raindrops splatted down on the women’s bonnets. Apphia ran up her black umbrella and stepped closer to Phineas to shelter him as he prayed. Libby opened her pearl gray sunshade—an extravagance she couldn’t resist when it came in a shipment of new ladies’ wear from St. Louis. It was a perfect match for her best gray dress. She edged closer to Gert to share its meager cover. In her gray silk, with black gloves and a hat she’d snatched off the millinery shelf this morning, she considered that she’d perhaps overdressed for Milzie’s funeral. How she’d starved for places to wear pretty clothes these last few years! At least they had church now. She could wear the outfit again on Sunday and even change her gloves and hat for something less somber.

The people around her said a hearty “Amen,” and she jerked her eyes open. Shame on her for letting her thoughts meander to fashions during prayer. The congregation broke ranks and swarmed toward the schoolhouse. Those who had umbrellas walked slower. The men clapped their hats on and ran, leaving the open grave for their attention after the downpour.

The mourners’ state ranged from damp to drenched by the time all crowded inside, and Hiram immediately went to the stove and laid a fire. The assembly being about a third of the one at Bert’s funeral, Libby judged that they would have plenty of food. All of the women had brought at least one dish, and they far outnumbered the men. The Ladies’ Shooting Club had turned out to the last woman. Gert and Apphia had made sure all the ranchers’ wives were notified. As a result, the luncheon dishes were nearly as varied as at the last funeral. With fewer males eager to eat it, the ladies could enjoy a leisurely feast and visit.

While the rain drummed on the roof, they dished up the food and settled in to do it justice. The men gravitated to one side of the schoolroom, and the women claimed the other side without protest.

Libby noted that Bitsy, Vashti, and Goldie wore cloaks she’d ordered in recently—black satin lined in jewel tones. They had an air of parrots in crows’ feathers, as their bright skirts peeked out from beneath the somber folds of the cloaks. As the room warmed, they soon laid their wraps aside, and the saloon girls again displayed their bright plumage.

Gert wore the dark blue wool dress she wore to church on all but the hottest days. Again Libby wished she could dress the young woman in something more attractive. Apphia’s two-piece lilac dress might be slightly outmoded by Boston standards but was far more stylish than the baggy cotton or woolen housedresses most of the women wore.

Libby joined in the conversation that burgeoned around her. At first the women talked about Milzie and what a shame it was she’d died.

“Did you see the dress Mrs. Adams gave us to lay her out in?” Annie asked Starr Tinen. “No. I’ll bet it was pretty.”

Libby felt her color rise. She hadn’t intended for anyone else to know about that. Gert had come to her early that morning, explaining that Milzie’s clothing was so caked in blood and soil that she couldn’t get it clean. With hardly a second thought, Libby had drawn her to the racks of ready-made clothing and helped her choose a dark cotton dress. She wished now she’d done more for Milzie in life. Why had they all held back? Of course they’d suspected the old woman would take advantage of their kindness, and perhaps she would have. But did that matter? What did God expect of them when a neighbor lacked for decent clothes?

“Does anyone know whether the sheriff has caught the killer yet?” Starr asked.

“I don’t think so,” Annie said. “Gert, do you know anything new?”

Across the room, the men had talked cattle and water rights, but during the lull before Gert answered, Libby heard one of them say, “—cold-blooded killer.”

Several voices rose at once.

“Sheriff, when are you going to make an arrest?” That sounded like Micah Landry.

“Folks in town are scared out of their socks,” said Oscar Runnels.

Ezra Dyer jumped up off his bench, knocking Oscar’s plate out of his hand.

“Sheriff, you’ve got to do something, and I’m not whistlin’ Dixie. You got to find out who’s doin’ the killin’ around here.”

Ethan stared at the old man and held out one hand toward him. “Now, Mr. Dyer, settle down. I’m doing everything I can to find out who’s responsible for this.”

“Well, what about the other crimes?” Micah Landry asked. “We still don’t know who killed Thalen or who attacked Griff Bane in broad daylight.”

“Yeah,” Oscar chimed in. “And don’t forget the fire at the Paragon. Mrs. Adams could have been toasted, and you ain’t found out who did that yet either.”

“Hold on now,” Ethan said, but half a dozen voices drowned him out.

Only Griffin was able to bring silence, when he rose from his seat and towered over them.

“All o’ ya’s, shut up!”

Ethan was grateful for the quiet that followed but wished he had a voice as authoritative as the blacksmith’s.

“The fella who robbed me was a big man.” Griffin peered around at the others from beneath his bushy brows, as though daring them to contradict. “I don’t think it was anyone from in town. I’d have recognized him. If he hadn’t sneaked in and got the jump on me, I’d have had him. And then Milzie would be alive.” He clenched his meaty hands. “I take that kinda personal.”

Ethan stood and set his tin plate down. “Gentlemen, I’m with Griffin. I take it personally, too. I think every man in Fergus needs to take this personally. Because the next person who’s clobbered or robbed or burned out of his house could be any one of us.” He pulled in a deep breath. Everyone in the room, including the twenty or so women, hung on his words. He made a quick decision and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “I’d like to make an announcement. I wish the mayor was here, but two members of the town council are with us, so I guess that’s good enough.”

“What is it?” Ezra asked.

“I’m going to deputize two or three men to help me find the killer. I’ll spend my time working on it until we run him down.”

“I’d be honored to help you, Sheriff,” Griffin said. “Thank you.”

The others clamored to be deputized. Ethan held up both hands. “Easy, now. I need men who can help me patrol the town at various times of day and night. So far, all the crimes have taken place in town.”

“Not my oatmeal cake that got stolen off the windowsill,” Laura Storrey called.

Ethan winced. “There have been some smaller crimes both in town and out in the countryside.” He had his ideas about that—especially since Libby had admitted she was certain Milzie had stolen from her. But the thought of Milzie bludgeoning Bert Thalen was ridiculous, and she certainly hadn’t beaten herself to death. “I’m not sure those incidents are related to the more serious crimes. Folks, I’m asking you to be patient. Give me three good men to help me. The town might want to consider some small compensation for their time.”

“You can’t guarantee it’ll do any good,” Oscar said.

“That’s true, I can’t. But I hope we’ll catch this man. And I think we have a better chance if everyone is careful. Don’t go out alone at night. Lock your doors. Don’t leave your womenfolk alone.”

The men looked at each other. Some nodded, and others just frowned.

“I’ll accept Mr. Bane’s offer of help,” Ethan said. He shot a quick glance toward Hiram, but his best friend shook his head almost imperceptibly. That was all right. Hiram would help him whether he wore a badge or not. “I also thought I’d ask Zachary Harper. He’s not here today, but—”

Annie Harper shoved her stool back and stood. “Sheriff, maybe you’d ought to consider who’s here supporting Milzie Peart today. And who came to your office not long ago offering their help.”

Ethan felt an annoying tickle at the back of his neck. He took a deep breath. “That’s also true, ma’am. You ladies have done a superb job of escorting the schoolchildren for the last week or so, and also of checking up on some of the widows and elderly folks. I appreciate that.”

“Well, we ladies are behind you,” Annie said. “But we want to see some results.”

Gert stood up.

No
, Ethan pleaded silently.
Not you, Gert
.

“Sheriff, we’d like to extend our offer again. The women of the Ladies’ Shooting Club of Fergus will help you in any way we can. Just tell us where you can best use our assistance, and we’ll be there.”

“Thank you.”

“Aw, now that’s just foolishness,” Micah Landry protested. “Sheriff, why do you let them waste all that lead, anyway?” Ezra Dyer asked.

Across the room, Emmaline stood. “You sit down,” Micah shouted.

Emmaline glared back at him. “Sheriff, we women are not only willing; we’re prepared. We all have weapons, and we’ve trained ourselves to use them. Which is more than we can say about some of the men in this here town.”

“Ha! Most of those weapons are
our
weapons,” her husband yelled.

Vashti jumped up and stood on her bench, momentarily showing a shapely leg as far up as her garters. “Sheriff, you’ve got more than two dozen pretty good shots right here in this room, and I’m talking about this side of the room.”

The men erupted in angry shouts. Ethan wasn’t sure what to do. He could pull his pistol and fire a round into the ceiling, but then they’d have to fix the leak in the schoolhouse roof. Micah lunged toward him, and Ethan tried to retreat a step but tripped over his bench and sprawled backward, taking Oscar with him. Griff took a swing at Micah. The town threatened to go to pieces without the aid of the skulking killer, until a shrill whistle pierced the air.

Everyone froze for an instant. People cringed and swiveled toward the sound. Hiram sheepishly lowered his fingers from his mouth and shrugged. Griff bent toward Ethan and offered him a hand up.

“Folks, listen to the sheriff,” the blacksmith shouted.

Ethan flexed his arm and rubbed the elbow he’d hit going down. “Thanks, Griff. Hiram. Let’s all settle down and talk about this reasonably.”

Hiram and Griffin immediately took their seats, and the other men slowly complied, grumbling a bit as they did. Behind Ethan, the swishing of skirts told him the ladies had resumed their positions as well.

“All right. Here’s the way I see it. We have the best chance of catching the killer if we’re all alert and careful. Griffin, I’ll deputize you, Oscar, and Zach. You all live in town and can give a few hours a day.”

Oscar nodded, and Griffin said, “Sure can.”

“Good. And Griff, maybe you can make some stars for the three of you. I haven’t found any extras over to the jailhouse.”

“I can do that.”

“Now, we men can take turns patrolling in town during the night, but as you all know, most of these crimes have taken place before nightfall. So be careful.” He swung around to look at the women. “Ladies, we’ll continue your daytime patrols in pairs.” Everyone remained quiet, and he felt the pressure lift from his chest. “Thank you all. I appreciate your willingness. Mrs. Harper, will you please tell your husband I’d like his aid?”

“I surely will,” Annie said. “But aren’t you going to deputize any of us women?”

Ethan’s adrenaline surged again. Was there any good way to answer that? His gaze met Gert’s, and her gray blue eyes bored into him—eager, passionate, and expecting him to do the right thing.

“I … guess I could do that. Miss Dooley, we appreciate
all
you ladies’ willingness, but I’ll only officially deputize two of you for now. I think you and one other—whoever is your next best shooter.”