The Scrimshaw Set: Books 1 & 2

by Gayle Hayes

  Billy's Balsamroot Café was busy as usual on Saturday. Everyone was talking about the theft the night before. There was no sign of forced entry and no windows broken, so the majority of the diners thought the theft was an inside job. A few people speculated Billy staged the theft to collect the insurance. Most people respected Billy for her service in Iraq and suspected an employee instead. Billy did not suspect any of her employees. She had her own theory, but she was keeping it to herself. She had decided against having an expensive security system installed. That was one of the joys of living in a small town in Montana, after all. Everyone knew everyone else, and no one would steal from a neighbor, especially a veteran. Billy supported every cause, and she believed she did not have enemies.

  In addition to the theft at Billy's restaurant, the customers were absorbed by the big spring football game between Buffalo Jump High School and the Catholic school, St. Mary's in the nearby town of Edina. Those dining at Billy's were almost evenly divided in support of the two teams. That translated into the Catholics against the Baptists and Methodists and vice versa. Each faction thought God was on its side. The Catholics believed theirs was the true faith and God would reward them accordingly. Still, they did not see any harm in mentioning the game to God during Mass. The Baptists and Methodists believed the recent scandals in the Catholic Church proved what they had thought all along. The Catholics finally received their comeuppance. God would surely be on the side of the Baptists and Methodists during the game.

  While the patrons of Billy's Balsamroot Café placed bets on the football game, the Buffalo Jump players warmed up at the high school field. The star player, Ryan Alexander, was doing his best to overcome the annoying physical complaints that had bothered him since the previous Sunday. He had kept the complaints to himself, fearing his parents would take him out of the big game. He was impatient and angry about his lack of coordination, dizziness, and the trouble he was having following the coach's directions. He did not think his physical discomfort had anything to do with being punched by Sean Garrett. Coach Anthony assumed Ryan was up too late the night before and was annoyed with him for putting the game in jeopardy.

  After leaving Billy's Balsamroot Café, Harold and Emma headed out of town toward the Missouri River and Harold's favorite spot to fish. Harold had given Emma the choice of seeing the football game or having a picnic by the river. Emma followed him to the river's edge and listened while he explained the mechanics of fly fishing. He made it look easy as he threw out the line and pointed to the fly skimming on the water. When Emma held the rod and tried the technique herself, the line became tangled. Harold took some time to get it free from a log and brush near the bank. Harold offered her the rod again, but Emma said she preferred to watch him. She knew she would not go fly fishing once she was back in Denver, so there was little incentive to learn, and she did not want Harold to spend more time rescuing the line from her mistakes.

  "I'm just enjoying being here. It's a perfect day for this," Emma said. She sat on the blanket in the grass and slathered sunscreen on her arms and legs.

  After Harold pulled the line out several times without a bite, he set the rod down and got comfortable on the blanket next to Emma. He dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead with a handkerchief.

  "I don't have the coordination I used to," Harold said.

  "Really? I thought you looked so graceful. Your line never snagged like mine."

  "I should've had at least one by now."

  "Actually, I don't care for fish that much," Emma said.

  "Frances was almost as good at fly fishing as I was. She was a natural. And she had way more patience than I did," Harold said.

  "That surprises me. Did she enjoy the fish?" Emma asked.

  "Not especially. Frances mostly enjoyed mastering something, especially if she wasn't supposed to," Harold laughed. "I think she stuck with it to annoy me."

  Emma wanted to ask Harold if he and Frances were in love, but she was uncomfortable asking him personal questions. She tried to steer the conversation so he would talk about their relationship on his own.

  "You must've been very good friends," Emma said.

  Harold was anxious to find a way to coach Emma so she would write her essay about him in a way that agreed with Frances' view of their relationship.

  "We were friends at first. Later, I think Frances was convinced I had taken advantage of her. She was stuck in Buffalo Jump for about a month while Claude and your dad toured the Bob. Neither one of us planned it, but we kind of fell in love. I was a bachelor a long time. Until I met Frances, I didn't even mind being alone. Then I more or less was the one who ended our relationship. She was pretty upset. I remember she said I only wanted her when I thought I couldn't have her. But we had good times, too. She was a very proud lady, and I guess I kind of hurt her pride some," Harold said.

  Harold and Emma sat in silence watching the river. They had been quiet and still long enough for a doe and her fawn to move away from the brush on the opposite side and step carefully along a path to the river where the backwater formed a still pool. The doe was vigilant, often stopping to listen and watch for danger. The fawn was thirsty and unafraid.

  "Do you have a steady beau back in Denver?" Harold asked.

  "I don't. I keep running into men who feel threatened because I have a better job. Or they're attracted to me because they still live at home and need help getting out." Emma laughed. "I'm waiting for the guy who sees me as his equal and has some ambition. I came close once. I even took the bar so I could practice in Montana. He was from Missoula. It didn't work out, though."

  "Would you like a family someday?" Harold asked.

  "I'm already thirty. Someday might be too late. I would want to really get to know someone before I got married. Sometimes I think time is my worst enemy. There's not enough time for everything," Emma said.

  Harold laughed. "Wait 'till you're seventy-six. I can remember being with Frances as if it was yesterday. I still want the same things. Now, I look in the mirror and see I'm an old man. I'm only marking time now. The sand in the hourglass is down to the last few grains," Harold said.

  Emma laughed. "This sounds more like a funeral than a fishing trip. C'mon, Harold. Let's walk," Emma said, while reaching for his hands to pull him up from the blanket.

  Harold groaned. "Too late. I think rigor mortis has set in," he said.

  Harold walked into the Buffalo Jump Inn with Emma. He was surprised to see Phyllis behind the registration counter. He knew Lisa Alexander usually worked the counter on Saturday. Then he remembered she would be at the football game. Carole and two of her friends were standing near the counter having a conversation. Phyllis looked up, saw Harold, and waved him over.

  "Hey, Babe, did you hear about the Alexander boy?"

  Babe gestured toward Emma. "We've been out to the river fishing. What happened?"

  "He got hit during the game. He was dead by the time they got him to the hospital," Phyllis said.

  Harold was stunned by the news. He had recently helped Ryan Alexander's parents draw up their wills.

  "How'd it happen?" Harold asked.

  "He was tackled. It was nothing out of the ordinary until he didn't get up," Carole said.

  "The Alexanders must be heartbroken," Harold said. He remembered Lisa cried when her husband told Harold they needed a new will following their daughter's death in a car accident the year before. "I've bought three sympathy cards this week. And every one of them younger than me," Harold said.

  "There's some talk about the sheriff charging Rod Anthony. I think it's a shame," Carole said. "Blaming somebody won't bring the boy back."

  "Why Anthony?" Harold asked.

  "He chewed Ryan out for staying up too late the night before the game. Ryan was having a hard time paying attention and clumsy during practice," Carole said.

  "That's ridiculous. The country wouldn't have enough room if we jailed every coach who yelled at a player," Harold said.

  Phyllis t
ried to clarify Carole's explanation. "Tessa Murphy went to the hospital. She told Billy that Lisa and Rick think the coach should have known Ryan was ill. It wasn't like him to have trouble concentrating, not to mention being clumsy. He was Rod's best player," Phyllis said.

  "Who tackled Ryan?" Harold asked.

  "The Thompson kid," Phyllis said. "He got booed after they packed Ryan off the field. No one has seen him since."

  "Well, that's a damn shame. Emma, will you mind if I cut our day short? I'd like to make a few calls and see what I can find out about this," Harold said.

  "I'll be fine. Will you let me help if I can?" Emma asked.

  "I'll let you know," Harold said.

  Carole wanted to walk to his office with Harold, so the group at the registration desk broke up, leaving only Phyllis and Emma.

  After Phyllis had answered the phone and taken the information needed for a reservation, she offered Emma a soda, and then asked if she enjoyed the fishing trip.

  "I didn't last long," Emma said. "Harold told me grandmother was good at it because she wanted to annoy him," Emma laughed.

  "That sounds like Frances. I think it's nice you can spend some time with Harold. He told me you remind him of her a lot," Phyllis said.

  "Harold said they fell in love while my grandfather was packing into the wilderness area. Do you remember them being together?" Emma asked.

  "Frances and Claude?" Phyllis asked.

  "Um-huh. I don't know anything about my grandfather," Emma said.

  "I met him before he left for the Bob and saw him again before he and Frances caught their flight out of Great Falls. She never talked about him at all," Phyllis said.

  "Do you think she and Harold were lovers?" Emma asked.

  "I'm sorry to say Carole and I were involved in that deception. But we loved Babe, and we never saw him so happy. For a long time I thought it never went beyond the flirting Carole and I noticed."

  "I'd really like to know more about their relationship," Emma said.

  "They met at a political rally here, as I recall. It was innocent enough. Frances was lonely, and Babe was handsome. Claude begged Frances to go to the Bob with him and John. She knew her way around a horse. But she wouldn't have been comfortable on the trail. She sort of justified her flirtation with Babe because Claude left her alone. Anyway, the four of us had a great time showing Frances around, going on picnics, to dances, plays, dinner…that sort of thing. She stayed at the inn so, of course, Carole and I weren't always privy to what was going on. I didn't own the place then. I heard rumors after she went back to New York that Babe was seen leaving her room late or early." Phyllis said.

  "I got the impression from Harold that he broke off with her," Emma said.

  "Not that first year, '81 I think it was. They kept in touch after Frances went back to New York. Then your grandfather was killed in a crash in some foreign country. There were periods when Babe didn't hear from her. He really missed her. But I sensed something was different when she came back the following year. I don't know if Frances changed or if she saw Babe with different eyes. It seemed he could do nothing right. She picked at everything. The way he dressed, his mannerisms, things he said. She'd poke fun at him in front of Carole and me. I think he was crushed to see how much she changed. He told me once he fell in love with her because of the way she made him feel about himself more than anything special about her. You know, I think he could overlook her faults as long as she thought he hung the moon. Once that was missing, it was too painful," Phyllis said.

  "Harold told me my grandmother thought he only wanted her when he couldn't have her. I assumed once my grandfather was dead and she was available, Harold got cold feet. You know, after being a bachelor for so long," Emma said.

  "I think she did feel that way. I told her to stop criticizing Harold. What started as teasing became damn annoying for all of us. It was embarrassing to be around it. Frances never listened. She thought he used her," Phyllis said. Then she paused for a few moments and said, "Emma, I promised her I'd never say a word about this, but Frances is gone now, so it probably doesn't matter. She told me Babe got her pregnant, and she wasn't going to have the baby. She made me swear I'd never tell Babe. I shouldn't have, but I knew I couldn't stop Frances, and it would've killed Babe to know she had an abortion. I really resented her after that. I felt as if I betrayed his friendship. Maybe Babe could've stopped her. When I saw how Babe suffered after their break up, I stopped writing to Frances. It was easier to ignore her than argue with her. When she came back with Claude's ashes in '92, she didn't want to see me. She saw Carole briefly and went back to New York." Phyllis said.

  "I had no idea," Emma said. "I've always wondered what caused the rift between grandmother and my parents. Once I knew about Harold, I thought they might've resented her for betraying my grandfather. Now, I wonder if they knew about the abortion."

  "I hope you won't tell Harold any of this. It would only hurt him, Emma." Phyllis said.

  "I promise. Thank you for telling me. I wanted to know more about my grandmother. Now, I'm sorry I know some things about her. But she's still my family, you know? I wonder if she had the abortion after all," Emma said.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Harold knew something was amiss as soon as he stuck his key into the lock. The door to his office was ajar. Inserting the key exerted enough pressure to open the door easily. At first he thought he had neglected to lock the door. Possibly he had been distracted by Emma. Then he noticed footprints on the light background of the area rug that extended beyond the bottom of his desk to the credenza and underneath the two chairs facing the desk. The opened box of scrimshaw was missing. The other box from Marilyn Tucker was still on the credenza. Harold had never been the victim of a burglary before. He checked for some sign the door had been forced. Then he went into the bathroom and found the window open. He remembered opening the window, but he could not remember closing it. Had someone entered the office with the intention of stealing the scrimshaw, or were they lucky? Unless Emma mentioned it to someone else, no one knew it was there. Nothing else was disturbed. Then he noticed the brown wrapping paper on the floor. Harold was careful not to touch anything. He called the sheriff and sat at his desk to wait.

  While her conversation with Phyllis was still fresh in her mind, Emma booted her laptop at the inn to write her essay about her afternoon with Harold. She remembered Harold said he guessed her grandmother thought he had used her. Then Phyllis affirmed her grandmother felt that way. Although Emma knew what her grandmother thought, Phyllis opened Emma's eyes to other possibilities.

  Emma thought her grandmother was wrong to criticize Harold, especially in front of Carole and Phyllis. While listening to Phyllis, Emma realized we see ourselves reflected in the eyes of others. Although we may think we are falling in love with the other person, we actually fall in love with our own reflection like the boy in Greek mythology, Narcissus. If that image is degraded, our ego suffers. While we might overlook the flaws in someone else because they love us, when they no longer love us, we are confronted with their faults and our own battered ego.

  Emma wanted to write the truth, but she knew the truth was not what her grandmother wanted to hear. If she was true to herself, she would lose the inheritance. On the other hand, Emma did not know the value of her inheritance. Would she be willing to sacrifice the truth for a pittance? Would she enjoy a large inheritance knowing she sacrificed the truth? It was a dilemma. Then Emma experienced clarity amidst the confusion and knew what she must do. Her fingers flew over the keys as she typed. She saved the essay to her flash drive and headed to the registration desk to print it.

  By the time Emma finished her essay, Deputy Knudsen had finished looking around inside and out at Harold's office. He was typing a statement from Harold when Emma saw the Sun River County Sheriff's Department vehicle and knocked on Harold's door.

  "Are you all right, Harold?" Emma asked.

  Deputy Knudsen finished a sentence and then stood up
, tipping his hat.

  "Nice to see you again, Ma'am," he said.

  "Somebody got inside and took the scrimshaw, Emma. I'm sorry," Harold said.

  "Did they take anything else?" Emma asked.

  "Doesn't appear so. It's my own damn fault. I left the bathroom window open. Seems somebody knew what they were looking for, though. Nothing's disturbed. Except for the footprint on my rug, it was hard to tell anyone was here," Harold said.

  "Did you tell anyone about the scrimshaw?" Deputy Knudsen asked.

  "No. That's why I left it here, so it'd be safer," Emma said, sitting down in the chair next to the deputy.

  "Deputy Knudsen thinks this might be connected to the theft at Billy's and the vandalism at Phyllis' cabin," Harold said.

  "So, you have a suspect?" Emma asked.

  "No, Ma'am, not exactly. There are similarities, though. Can't say what they are right now," the deputy said.

  "The scrimshaw set was in my grandmother's family since 1890. It's an heirloom. Unfortunately, there's a note from her in the box, too. The note says the scrimshaw is insured for about $75,000. Now the thief knows how valuable it is." Emma said.

  "If someone tries to pawn it, we'll know about it. Could be it's someone down on their luck and needing groceries, that kind of thing. The good news is they'll take care of the scrimshaw to preserve its value," the deputy said.

  "Is there anything I can do?" Emma asked.

  "Not at the moment. Think it over. You might come up with something that leads us to the perpetrators. Guess I'm on my way for now," Deputy Knudsen said. He picked up his laptop. "Good day, Ma'am."

  "Please call me Emma," she said.

  Emma walked to the door with the deputy and watched him take a call in his vehicle before he pulled away from the curb.

  "He's a nice young man, Emma, don't you think?" Harold asked.

  "He's all right. I wonder if he's ever been out of the county," Emma said. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  Harold smiled. Emma looked and sounded so much like Frances, it was unsettling.