Under Starry Skies (31 page)
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said and followed it with a hiss. “I ain’t taking the fall for something I never done. I never killed Henry McNeil. It was Emma. She drugged his drink, then stabbed him with a knife.”
Emma waved her hands. “Shut up, Lang! Just shut up!”
“No, I never thought you did it,” Maria admitted. “Aunt Emma knifed Uncle Henry, but then she needed help to put the body in the cemetery. You realized you’d have to keep quiet about the button and murder, and it would be the perfect opportunity to blackmail her and squeeze every penny you could from her. After all, it’s no secret you like to gamble. So she paid to keep you quiet and from going to the authorities. And that’s why she kept pilfering money from the inn’s safe.”
“How’d you figure it out?” he asked.
Maria glanced at Abigail. “We figured it was Aunt Emma who wielded the knife and gave you those stitches on your arm, but we didn’t make a connection until Millie told Abigail that Emma had once threatened her with a knife. When Dr. Wade sewed your arm, Abby and I searched out all your cronies who play cards with you, and we couldn’t find one who had witnessed a knife fight. We couldn’t find a single soul. Now wasn’t that odd?”
Tye nudged Lang in the back with the barrel of his gun. “You must have really riled the old gal for her to take off on you.”
Maria took a deep breath. She stared at her uncle’s portrait. Now all she needed to know was why Emma killed their uncle. Abby beat her to the question.
“Why?” Abigail asked. “Why Uncle Henry? What did Uncle Henry ever do to you?”
“He was weak,” Emma said scornfully. “He was cheap. He’d give to others before he’d let me buy something new.” She poked at her chest with a finger and spoke with bitterness. “It was me who was supposed to have everything.” She waved her hands in the air. “He knew I hated Golden. He knew I wanted to go home to Georgia where the people were cultured and refined and where people cared about wealth and status. I begged him to take me back east.”
Tye let out a long audible sigh. He spoke to all, but only gazed at Maria. “We need to fetch the sheriff. I have the feeling this is going to be a long night.”
“I’ll go,” Millie Hanson said quietly.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“How did you know to come to the manse?” Maria looked at Tye who was seated at the Mule Shed Inn’s kitchen table, along with Abigail, Brett, Marcus, and Betsy.
It was late that night, and they had just finished with the sheriff. No one felt in the mood to return to the festival, so they had gathered at the inn for coffee. Anna had sent over a huge plate of pastries. The kitchen glowed with the light of three lanterns strategically hung on the wall to shine on the table. The woodstove fire drove the chill from the air and made the kitchen feel cozy and warm.
“Betsy saw you leave the barn dance with Millie, and once I realized Abigail had also disappeared, it wasn’t difficult to conclude you both were up to no good,” Tye said. His words were calm, but the look he and Maria exchanged indicated he was barely concealing his anger. “I sent Brett to the inn to look for you and Marcus to the cottage. I headed over to the manse. I hope you realize you all could have been killed.”
“What will happen to Aunt Emma?” Abby’s attempt to deliberately change the subject did not go undetected. Tye and Brett sat at the table and glared at them, frowning.
Marcus rubbed his jaw. “She’ll go to trial for the murder of her husband and probably for the murder of her first husband as well. Then she’s headed to a life-long stay at an asylum. Imagine the person who has the job of trying to untangle her mind.” Marcus shook his head. “He’ll soon discover Emma plays with a set of dice without all the dots.”
“What will happen to the manse and the Mule Shed Inn?” Maria asked.
“The will the sheriff requested from your uncle’s lawyer tonight indicated all his holdings and belongings were to go to your father upon his death,” Brett said. “Therefore, Attorney Wright is confident Abigail and you will own all of it. Luckily, since Emma was intent on covering up Henry’s death and trying to chase you back to Utah, it never crossed her mind to look for Henry’s will, and she undoubtedly, and erroneously, assumed everything was hers. Had she discovered its contents, you both may have ended up like poor Henry.”
“It looks like you will not have to worry about a place to stay.” Marcus’s gaze came to rest on the two sisters.
Maria shuddered. She thought about the dreary house, the bloodstained chair, the sad songs from the spinet, and the ugly portrait of Emma. “I will not ramble around in that cold, pitiful place.”
“Nor I,” Abigail agreed.
“Sell it, or have Millie Hanson turn it into a boarding house,” Brett suggested. “Amos and Roy Sanderson can help her get it started. Why, the other day, Amos told me he was getting bored. The Mule Shed was running too efficiently.”
Marcus pursed his lips and nodded. “It’s a good sound idea. The town can always use more places for people to stay when they come into the area.” He rose from the table. “It’s time for me to fetch Anna and get back to the ranch.”
Betsy rose with him. “I’ll go with you. Tomorrow might be another long day when the sheriff starts sorting things out. I’d hate to be in Lang Redford’s boots.”
“Yeah, there’s another one who’s about as sharp as a marble.” Marcus chuckled.
Brett rubbed his hand over his face. “Come, Abigail. I’ll walk you to the cottage.
We need to talk.
”
Abigail grimaced. “I’m hearing the same worn out lyrics from the same old song, Captain Trumble. But I’m betting we
don’t talk.”
“You’re right, darlin’. You’re about to listen to a real lively solo from me.” Brett’s sarcasm was not lost on the group. “Now wish your dear sister good luck, ’cause you’re both going to need it. Tydall has the God awful look like he could strip bark from a pine tree with his teeth.”
When everyone left, Maria shifted nervously in her seat, uncomfortable under Tye’s direct scalding gaze. “You’re angry.”
Both eyebrows shot up, and his nostrils flared with fury. “Oh, please, Maria. Angry doesn’t begin to describe what I feel.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” This time his expression was one of pained tolerance. “For ignoring me? For ignoring a man who was trying to propose? For leaving the festival? For not telling me where you were going? For going off unarmed to face a killer with a gun. Or a killer with a knife? For not telling me someone was threatening you, not once—but twice? Which one, Maria? Just which one are you sorry about?”
“All of them?” She hung her head. A sensation of desolation swept over her. “I couldn’t let the murderer of my uncle get away with it. I just couldn’t, Tye. I couldn’t tell you about the message on the slate board because at first I thought it was a student. It wasn’t until I got the second note, I became truly frightened. Can’t you see? I wanted to try to handle it myself.”
He sat there for a moment, then heaved a sigh, stood, and went to the lanterns, extinguishing them one by one. He walked to the door in the dim light of the moon shining through the kitchen window. “It’s a full moon. Grab your shawl and come take a ride with me. I want to show you something.”
Without speaking, he led her to a buggy tied out back and helped her in. The full moon overhead lit up the night and the roadway as they proceeded through a curtain of pine and aspen. The trees seemed magical, whispering to one another as the night breeze ruffled their leaves.
Before he reached the ranch, Tye turned the horse along a narrow path leading to a grassy rise looking down over a rolling field. The moon’s golden rays made the field glow like amber. He stopped the buggy.
“What do you see, Maria?”
“A field. A beautiful field in the moonlight?”
“Yeah, under a glorious Colorado moon. Amazing, isn’t it?” He tied off the reins and leaned back against the seat. Maria could see the sharp outline of his face. They sat in silence for several moments. Finally he spoke, “I see an orchard with rows and rows of apple trees. Johnathans and Macintoshes. Cortlands from New York. It’s time for me to plant some roots, Why not some apple trees? What do you think?”
“Oh, Tye.” There was hesitancy and resignation in her voice. “If I marry you, I can’t be certain the school board would approve of a married woman teaching their youth. And I haven’t proven myself yet to warrant the board considering such a bold idea. I’d probably lose my position.”
“Depends upon the vote of the board. Times are changing, Maria. Betsy owns a store. Julia has her pottery business. Anna runs her bakery. You saw how excited the kids were today to please you. Do you think the parents of those children would let you leave without a fight?” He paused. “You could always start your own school and tutor adults who want to learn to read and write. There’s a lot of people pouring into the Territory—lots of people who would be eager to learn how to write only their names on a legal document. I figure if you can teach an Indian, you can teach just about anybody.”
“How did you find out?” She was glad it was dark, and he couldn’t see her blush.
“Old Theo Sarowski mentioned to Julia she was helping Two Bears to read aloud from his McGuffey reader. Now, I ask you, how would Two Bears get his hands on a McGuffey reader? I had a deal with that fool Indian to make sure you got safely to school each morning, but I never dreamed he’d sweet talk you into teaching him to read and write.”
Maria smiled. “If the school board will permit me to teach as a married woman, would you allow me?”
“Allow you?” He looked at her in disbelief. “The way you handled that gun today, I don’t think I’d stop you from doing anything you wanted to do. You’re going to be a hero in school on Monday. No child will get out of line once he hears how you shot Emma McNeil’s picture off the wall by its cord.”
“Betsy deserves the credit. She’s a patient teacher and skilled in weaponry.” She felt a warm glow flow through her. She put her hand on his forearm. “Oh, Tye, I don’t want to fight.” Her gaze locked with his, and her mind reeled with a multitude of thoughts. This was the man she loved. Why couldn’t she have everything she wanted? She could chart her own path. She could make choices. She didn’t have to give up her love of teaching, nor her love for Tye Ashmore. She didn’t need to be afraid anymore. “I love you,” she said in a whisper and felt him gather her up in his arms and pull her to him.
“I love you, too, schoolmarm.” He met her gaze and smiled into her eyes, a tender smile that wrapped around her heart. He caressed her back and kissed her gently. “Just say you’ll marry me, we’ll work everything out. I promise.”
“I’ll marry you, and we
will
work everything out,” she said, feeling relieved and blissfully happy.
“Please say you’ll stay with me tonight.”
“Tye Ashmore, I’ll stay with you forever.”
He kissed her long and deep before he gathered the reins to the horse and sent them on their way…along the moonlit road lined with autumn flowers where only the sound of the buggy wheels crunching on the rocks broke the evening silence. And where an empty ranch house under a starry sky was waiting to be filled with love and laughter and a family.
A word about the author...
Judy Ann Davis began her career in writing as a copy and continuity writer for radio and television in Scranton, PA. Throughout her career, she has written for both industry and education.
Many of her short stories have appeared in various literary and small magazines, and anthologies, and have received numerous awards. Nineteen of them are now collected in
Up on the Roof & Other Stories
.
Under Starry Skies
features the Ashmore family and many of the same characters in
Red Fox Woman
, her first novel, which was a finalist in the International Book Awards and USA Book News Best Book Awards.
Key to Love
, her second novel published by The Wild Rose Press, is a contemporary romantic suspense.
When Judy Ann isn’t behind a computer, you can find her looking for anything humorous to make her laugh or swinging a golf club, where the chuckles are few. She is a member of Pennwriters, Inc. and of Romance Writers of America and lives with her husband in Clearfield, PA.
Visit her at:
and
You can find her on Facebook:
Judy Ann Davis
and on Twitter:
@judyanndavis4
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
