Mrs. Grey

by Rachel Wesson

  “I best get back to the jailhouse. Take care and lock the door when Father Molloy leaves.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, but she was smiling to take the sting out of her words.

  Chapter 37

  She watched him walk down the street, the slump of his shoulders showing his heartbreak. The death of the young boy had hit hard although she didn’t think he knew him personally. She liked that about the sheriff. Despite being in the war, and being a lawman for years, he retained his humanity.

  “Are you coming back in, Mrs. Grey? Would you like me to take you home?”

  “No, Robbie, but thank you for the offer. I best stay here, just in case a nurse is needed. Are you waiting for Father Molloy?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will collect Declan’s personal effects and send them with his wages to his ma, but Father Molloy might want to write his own letter. I think it could help her.”

  She looked at him with approval. She didn’t know him very well, he was engaged to Carmel Doherty’s granddaughter, and was in charge of Mr. Prentice’s hotel. He seemed like a well brought up young man. His eyes were troubled too.

  “Robbie, would you like some coffee? Seems like you might be in for a long night? I am making one for Father Molloy.”

  “Thank you. Coffee would be nice.”

  She busied herself making the coffee, thankful Mick Quinn had updated the doctor’s office and put in the kitchen facilities. She found cookies too. Emer must have left them earlier or maybe someone dropped them in. That happened quite a bit especially if families were late on their payments. Erin was wonderfully patient with those who couldn’t afford the fees. Not only was she paid in chickens, eggs, and once a piglet, she regularly got cookies and cakes too.

  “What does Sheriff Willis think will happen next, Robbie?”

  “I am not sure, Mrs. Grey. He locked up some of the troublemakers. The group of lads as a whole is great but there are always some bad eggs. And some lads would follow anyone who asked.”

  That was true, always had been, probably always would. Some men were attracted to fighting like bees to flowers.

  “I think you were brave to have both blacks and Irish on your team of workers,” she said without looking up.

  “Brave or foolish? Many would think the latter.”

  His response made her look him directly in the eyes.

  “I don’t believe you were foolish. Maybe a tad optimistic,” she said gently, not wanting to kick the man when he was down.

  “I thought we could get past everything. The war ended more than twenty years ago. If I can marry an Irish Catholic being an English Protestant, surely men of all races can work together?”

  “Prejudice never goes away, Robbie. You are lucky the Doherty’s are such a nice family. Few would agree with a mixed marriage. Father Molloy is not your average priest.”

  He nodded in agreement, taking the cup of coffee she offered. He stood with his back against the wall, she supposed he was too riled up to sit. She sat at the table, waiting to hear what he said.

  “He isn’t anything like the priests I met in London growing up. If I had met someone like him…” he trailed off obviously embarrassed.

  “I think we would have all benefited from meeting someone like him years ago.” She guessed he’d had a tough life but whoever had brought him up did an excellent job.

  “How did you end up in Clover Springs, Mrs. Grey?” He played with his cup of coffee as if embarrassed to be so inquisitive.

  “I came here with my husband shortly after Martha and David Sullivan.”

  “So, you have known the Sullivans forever. They are a lovely family.”

  She didn’t tell him it had taken years for her to see the Sullivans for the wonderful family they were.

  “That’s why Clover Springs is special, Mrs. Grey. When Lily, Doc Erin, and Alicia were talking about it back in New York, I didn’t understand. Not completely. But living here and seeing all races and colors mixing together peacefully told me it was possible. Well, it was until I ruined it.”

  “You did nothing of the sort. It is not your fault. Grown men know how to behave, or at least they should do. Hopefully, the man who hit Declan will come forward. He may not have meant to kill him. Often those who kill with a punch don’t realize how dangerous it can be. He didn’t pull a gun or use a knife. That is some comfort.”

  Robbie didn’t look comforted but what else could she say. Maybe it hadn’t been murder, but Declan was still dead. His mother would soon be grieving not only the loss of a son but of his future. Her grandchildren. She stood and started washing the cups for something to do. Otherwise, the maudlin train of thought would be her undoing.

  “I will go rouse Mr. Phelps then get about arranging the service. I should think tomorrow afternoon would be a good time,” Father Molloy said, as he took the last cup of coffee.

  “So fast? Will Sheriff Willis agree?” Robbie asked.

  “I believe so. He has the facts he needs. The least we can do for Declan now is give him a good Christian burial.”

  “Yes, Father,” Robbie replied. “I was just telling Mrs. Grey, I will send his mother on his wages and personal things. But could you write a letter? I think it would be better coming from the priest. Comforting even.”

  “I’ll write, son, but as to whether it will bring her any comfort. Only God knows the answer to that one. Goodnight, Mrs. Grey, thank you for the coffee.”

  “You’re welcome, Father Molloy,” she replied, noting it was probably the first time she had seen him drink coffee and not eat the cookies. It was a sign of just how upset he was. The death of a young person, regardless of the circumstance, always hit hardest.

  She locked the door after the men had left. She would recognize Mr. Phelps’ knock when he arrived. If he came. It was now so late, he may leave it till the next morning. She sat back in the chair and sent her own prayers for Declan, his mother, and the sheriff. She hoped he would find a way to sort out the issues facing Clover Springs before anyone else died.

  Chapter 38

  The funeral for Declan Donohue passed without incident. It may have been the heavy presence of lawmen. Sheriff Willis and Little Beaver were accompanied by six other men who had been hastily deputized after the confrontation in which Declan lost his life. These men included Davy and Daniel Sullivan as well as Lawrence Shipley. Robbie was not included as the sheriff was worried people would think he was taking sides. The whole situation was like a tinder keg waiting to blow, and he didn’t want a poor judgment call to lead to any bad feeling.

  He listened with half an ear to the service as he observed the mourners. There was some genuine grief, but there were also a few who had taken advantage of Robbie’s good nature. He had agreed to pay the men despite them leaving work early for the funeral.

  Seamus and his friends had been let out of the jailhouse in time to return to work that morning. He’d given them a stern talking to but wasn’t sure if they had been listening. He had suggested to Robbie they send some of the workers back to New York. The work may take longer but, no doubt, Mr. Prentice was a man of reason. At least, Doc Erin and Alicia said he was, and their opinions were good enough for him. As he stood thinking, he felt someone watching him. Looking up, he caught Lorena’s eye. She looked concerned. It was a nice feeling to find someone actually cared. He was popular enough for a lawman but, in reality, if he was shot dead tomorrow, there would be few to really mourn him. But maybe that was changing?

  “Sheriff, what do you think?”

  “Sorry, Little Beaver, I was miles away.”

  “Yes, I saw. Mrs. Grey is strong woman. She has good heart even if she hides it well at times.”

  He couldn’t but stare at his deputy. Surely his thoughts weren’t that easy to read.

  “You can stop looking like a scared deer. Nobody else would notice. I see things white people don’t. Remember.”

  “Yes, I remember. I also remember a time when Mrs. Grey terrified you.”

 
It was Little Beaver’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Terrify is a strong word.”

  He had to turn his laugh into a cough as it wouldn’t be seemly to burst out laughing in the graveyard. Father Molloy was finishing up. The priest had confided he found the letter to Declan’s mam difficult to write. It had reminded him of the war years, writing to all the wives and mothers of the young man slaughtered in the field. He shivered. Being in a graveyard led to macabre thoughts.

  Chapter 39

  Mrs. Grey watched the sheriff out of the corner of her eye. He looked tired and, if she was honest, rather scruffy. When was the last time that shirt collar was whitened properly? He also looked as if he needed a decent meal. Could he even cook properly? From stories Little Beaver told her, she guessed he could manage the basics but not much more. Maybe it was time to invite him to her house for dinner. Not that she would cook it. She could but Cook would have her guts for garters. She had given the couple a job, years back when Jim, Cook’s husband, had been wandering through Clover Springs after the war. Nobody would employ him given the loss of his leg. She took pity on him and his wife who clearly adored him. She hadn’t needed a cook, felt it rather pretentious but Mr. Grey had insisted. So, to spite him, she employed the couple. They had been a blessing in disguise. With the exception of Mrs. Higgins, there wasn’t as good a cook as Esther for miles around.

  She moved away from the graveyard and the small crowd intent on heading home. The sheriff walked toward her.

  “Miles away, Lorena? Have you had a chance to rest? You weren’t up all night, were you?”

  “One question at a time, Sheriff, I mean, Braddon,” she said, smiling shyly. It still felt a little weird, but wonderful, to call him by his Christian name. “I took a nap this morning on Erin’s orders. I was just thinking of dinner. I don’t mean to be unseemly as we have just left a funeral, but I wondered if you would be free for dinner some evening?”

  When he didn’t answer she kept talking as the silence was embarrassing.

  “I won’t poison you as Esther, my cook, is rather wonderful. But then, you know that. You have sampled her pot roast.”

  “You mean, you didn’t make that roast yourself?”

  She blushed like a school girl. “You’re teasing me’

  “Yes, I am. I am rather partial to a pink-cheeked lady.”

  “Braddon. Anyone could hear you!”

  “Who cares? If anything, didn’t today teach us life is too short.”

  She instantly felt more subdued.

  “Please, be careful. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” she said quietly.

  He smiled at her as he squeezed her hand gently. “I will take care but thank you for thinking of me. I would love to come to dinner. Tomorrow night too soon?’

  “No, that’s perfect. I will let Esther know. Any requests?

  “No, so long as she avoids mushrooms, I can’t stand them.”

  “I’ll tell her. See you tomorrow evening, if not before.”

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Grey.”

  She looked up to see Mrs. Shaw and Ma Allen bearing down on her. She almost groaned aloud. To think at one time, she thought these women were her friends. No. They were never that. Acquaintances and, even then, she wasn’t sure she ever liked them. At least that’s what she told herself.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. Please excuse me, I must get home.”

  “Mrs. Grey, we would like a word if you can make the time.” Mrs. Shaw stood in front of her, the presence of Ma Kelley and Ida Hawthorne obviously making her feel braver than usual.

  “What can I do for you, Mrs. Shaw?” She felt, rather than saw, Braddon move quickly away.

  “It is rather delicate,” Ida Hawthorne began, but at a look from herself she turned red and shut up.

  “Ladies, as I said I am in a hurry. If you have something to say, please just tell me.”

  “There are rumors circulating town about you and the sheriff. Being a woman of upright virtue, we felt you should know.”

  She stiffened, trying to calm herself. She wished she could tell these women to drop dead but that wouldn’t do.

  “Rumors? I haven’t heard a word.”

  “It was suggested that the two of you may be courting. I told the people who said it, they must have imagined things. A lady like yourself wouldn’t be thinking of settling for a man like him.”

  “A man like the sheriff?” she queried in a bid to get them to see the error of their ways.

  “Yes. I mean, he is a lawman, and we all know they come rough and ready. What you need, dear Mrs. Grey, is to have a nice husband. One like Mr. Grey although, given your age, you might want to accept your widowhood with grace,” Ma Kelley added.

  “My age?” She nearly spat. The three women actually shrank back from her, and over their heads, she spotted a smile appear on Braddon’s face.

  She was ready to throttle all three of them but instead, she picked up her skirts. “Thank you for your concern, ladies. Good afternoon.”

  She walked away after giving each her best look, the one her daddy always said could turn a man to stone. If one of them said another word, she was likely to push them over onto their big bustles. Her age, indeed!

  Chapter 40

  Sheriff Willis was glad he’d got away alive. He had no time for Mrs. Shaw and her cronies. Normally he enjoyed watching Lorena interact with them, she usually used a cutting tongue to put them back in their place, but today she seemed ruffled. He hoped whatever they had said hadn’t changed her mind about inviting him to dinner. Little Beaver’s whistle caught his attention. With a sigh, he turned to follow his deputy. Duty came first.

  “Sheriff, this just arrived.” Little Beaver waved a telegram. He could see by the Indian’s face the news wasn’t good.

  “Seamus?”

  “Him and one of the other men you enquired about. They are wanted in a couple of places. Most recently in New York. There’s a price on their head.”

  “What they accused of?’

  “Murder, robbery, and all sorts. Seems they got a list of people looking for them. Bounty hunter is headed here.”

  He could have cursed under his breath. One time he would have. But it didn’t sit well with the new man he had tried to become.

  “Bounty hunter. That’s all we need. Find Robbie, tell him I need to see him in the jailhouse. We got to find a way to get those men out of here and back to New York.”

  “You aiming on accompanying them?”

  “Unless you’d like to see New York, Little Beaver? I’ve been and have no real hankering to go back.”

  “I no go to that place. My wife, she'll kill me, then you.”

  He slapped the deputy on the back. “Your wife has the right idea. Go find Robbie. See you back at the jailhouse.”

  As he walked back, he looked around at the town he had come to love. When Matthews had contacted him and told him he was retiring, he’d balked at the idea of moving from a large city to a small place like Clover Springs. But it had been the best decision of his life. Now, the town he loved and the people who lived there were in danger. Was he man enough to protect them?

  Chapter 41

  He pushed the door open to the jailhouse feeling every one of his fifty years. Maybe it was time to hand the reins over to someone younger. Davy jumped up from where he had been sitting behind the desk.

  “Sorry, was just keeping it warm for ya,” he apologized as he moved away from the sheriff’s desk.

  He waved off the apology. Davy had worked hard last night, he didn’t need to apologize for sitting at the desk.

  “Sheriff, do you still need me, or can I get back to the ranch?”

  “Sorry, Davy, but I just got word that our trouble got a whole lot bigger. I think young Declan was murdered and it was covered up to make it look like a fight.”

  “I guess I should put some more coffee on.”

  He felt he was swimming in coffee but maybe it would sharpen his brain. Robbie arrived with Little Beav
er following close behind.

  “You know this Seamus guy before he came here?”

  “No, Sheriff. He was part of the group Charlie, my soon-to-be brother-in-law, sent. Or at least that’s what Dawson says.”

  The sheriff knew Robbie was a plain-talking guy.

  “Comes around to what Dawson says a lot don’t you reckon?” he replied, not really expecting an answer. “I did some digging. Seems our friend Seamus is wanted in New York and other places. He has a list of crimes longer than Mrs. Shaw’s list of aggravations.”

  The men laughed at his analogy each having been on the receiving end of Mrs. Shaw’s whining.

  “So, what do we do?’

  “There’s a bounty hunter on his way to grab Seamus. I think we should send Seamus at least halfway up the tracks. Get them both away from our town.”

  “You are expecting more trouble?” Davy asked, putting his empty cup down for a refill.

  “I don’t like loose ends. I wonder what that kid Declan knew. Seems funny his best friend who came to check on him is the most wanted guy in New York. Was it to see if he was still alive or to hasten his death?”

  The other men didn’t volunteer an answer. He continued. “I don’t like Dawson, he is a two-tongued rattlesnake with all his glib responses but Seamus, he has the look of a killer. I think its best we act rather than wait.”

  “That right, Sheriff. Good job we figured that was what you planned.” Seamus pushed the door open, his gun aimed at the sheriff’s chest.

  Chapter 42

  “Don’t do it,” Seamus threw at the others. “I got men outside ready to fire, and I got myself a couple of your friends to keep me company. Your girlfriend was top of the list. Two of my men are waiting for her back at her house. Her one-legged union lover didn’t put up much of a fight.”