by Angel Moore
“Be careful.” Jasmine lowered her voice. “Are you sure you don’t want me to let Mr. Ivy know where you’re going?”
“You can tell him after the train leaves. If he comes down to the station now, he’ll ruin any chance I have of finding out if Mr. Finch is indeed the thief.”
The conductor checked his pocket watch and called out, “All aboard!” He walked a few feet down the platform and called out again.
“I better go.” Mary Lou felt a rumble of excitement and nervousness in her middle. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome. If you find out it’s him, I want to be among the first to know.”
“You will be. I promise.” She laughed. “Besides all that, I’ll have to get these clothes back to you.” She hoisted the carpetbag that held the clothes she’d worn earlier. “Say a prayer for me.”
“I will.”
Mary Lou made her way to the rear of the car and sat on a seat alone. No one sat in the row across the aisle. She slid over by the window and put the carpetbag on the seat beside her, hoping no one would try to join her. Jasmine waved at her from the platform as the train pulled out of the station.
She kept her head lowered and scanned the other passengers from under the rim of the Stetson Jasmine had insisted was the finishing touch. Mary Lou almost laughed when she thought about the differences between Jasmine, the lady rancher, and her sister, Lily Stone, the milliner. Both were beautiful and strong women. Businesswomen, like herself. But they also had husbands. Men who valued their character and embraced their intelligence and their beauty.
Mary Lou could never compete with their beauty. She didn’t have the softness they possessed. That was another reason she needed to solve this crime. If she could find evidence that Mr. Finch was the thief who troubled the residents of Pine Haven, it would solidify her ownership of the Record. The townspeople wouldn’t be looking at her or Andrew with suspicion.
No. Mary Lou didn’t have beauty or a husband. She had to protect the only thing she had. The Pine Haven Record. She hoped Jared would understand that she didn’t have a choice. She had to fight for her future. Even if it put her at odds with him.
The door behind her opened. The noise of the track and the blustery fall wind swirled into the car. Mary Lou kept her head lowered. She saw black trousers and shoes stop in the aisle.
“Ticket, sir?” The conductor held out his hand.
She offered her ticket, lifting her head enough to watch him punch it yet still keeping her face hidden beneath the wide brim.
“Here you go.” He stretched his arm to return the ticket to her, but his elbow hit her hat.
She watched it fall onto the floor when she missed the brim in a desperate attempt to catch it.
“Hey!” He leaned over to look at her face. The sound of the car on the tracks muffled his words in the confined seat. “You’re a woman.”
“I am.”
He straightened to his full height. “What’s the point of dressing like that?” The conductor made no attempt to confine their conversation to the two of them.
Mary Lou had just put the hat back on as several people turned in their seats to stare. Speaking with only enough volume for the conductor’s hearing she said, “I don’t believe my attire is a matter of concern for you.” She held her hand out for the ticket.
He shoved it at her. “I’ll be watching you.”
“There’s no need.” She sat back in her seat. “I’ll be right here.”
The conductor huffed his way to the next row of seats, mumbling to himself. Mary Lou was glad when he had punched all the tickets in her car and gone through the door at the front. She looked up as he gave a cursory glance over the occupants. His gaze landed on her as if he were memorizing her face before he closed the door.
Lord, help me not to draw any more attention before I accomplish my purpose. Give me the opportunity to find any evidence there is against Mr. Finch.
She could almost hear Mr. Ivy’s voice in her head reminding her to be objective.
Or whoever the guilty person is, Lord. I just know it’s not Andrew.
Thirty minutes before the train arrived at the next stop, Mr. Finch entered the car. He came from the front carrying a tray laden with newspapers and small items like candy and cigars. He started at the first seat and worked his way toward her, selling things to whomever wanted something as he passed.
The time had come to know if he recognized her as Miss Ellison of Pine Haven, editor of the Record.
Hoping to keep him from seeing her features, when he got to her, she stood with her head down and perused his tray of wares.
“Do you have any cigars?”
“The conductor told me about you. Women don’t smoke cigars.”
“Women buy cigars for men.” She reached a hand into his tray and toyed with the cigar choices he had. She noticed newspapers from Pine Haven, Dallas and two other towns.
“A woman who dresses like you doesn’t have a man to buy cigars for.” He had no idea that the clothes she wore today weren’t the reason she didn’t have a man in her life. Maybe that was why it was so important to her to protect Andrew. No one ever stayed to protect her. Even if they wanted to.
“They’re for my boss.” Jared wasn’t her boss yet. But if God didn’t intervene, he would be when the judge came to town. The weeks were flying by. The judge could arrive any day. Even then, Jared wouldn’t be her boss for long. She could never stay and let him tell her how to run her own paper.
“How many do you want?”
“Three.” She pointed at the least expensive ones. “I need to take a gift to a sister, too.” Jasmine wasn’t her sister, but she was a sister. And she could give her whatever trinket she bought today. Unless the sheriff determined it was stolen. She’d show everything she bought to Sheriff Collins as soon as she returned to Pine Haven in the morning.
“What about a brush or comb? Or does your sister dress like you?”
She turned her laugh into a cough. He had no idea that the clothes she wore belonged to the woman for whom she was making her selection.
“She loves beautiful things. If you let me see what you have, I’ll choose what I think suits her best.”
Mr. Finch moved the papers to one side and revealed a small array of gifts for ladies. Watches, hat pins, brushes and combs, and just beneath the edge of a lace handkerchief Mary Lou caught a glimpse of a cameo. In an effort to keep him from thinking she had a particular interest in the cameo, she lifted the handkerchief and handled the fabric.
“I’d like this handkerchief.” She fingered a set of hair combs. “How much are these?”
He gave a price that was well below what she knew would be a true cost.
“I don’t know.”
“What about something less expensive?” He showed her a porcelain dish. Now she knew he was the thief, but she couldn’t let him see that she knew.
“It’s not the expense. I just want the gift to be something she would like.” She picked up a hat pin and put it back. “What about this?” She reached for the cameo. It was Jasmine’s. The distinct rose corsage that Mr. Warren had described was beautiful.
He took it from her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how that got in here.”
Mary Lou was grateful for her coat when goose bumps rose on her arms. She couldn’t make him suspicious now, but she wanted the cameo back for Jasmine because of its sentimental value.
“Are you sure? It’s just the sort of thing she would like.” She didn’t look at him, but kept her eye on the way he slipped it into the pocket of his trousers.
“No. I got it for my mother. Mustn’t disappoint her on her birthday next week.” He offered Mary Lou the kind of smile she’d seen over and again on an insincere face trying to pacify someone.
“Well, let me have
the combs then.” They hadn’t been stolen in Pine Haven, but she’d stop into the sheriff’s office at the next town and see if there had been any thefts there in recent weeks.
He wrapped her purchases in brown paper but pulled the package back when she reached for it. He held out his open palm and told her the amount for her purchases.
She dug the money from her pocket and dropped it into his hand. “Thank you.” She took the package. “Now I’ll get a warmer welcome when I get home.”
She sat back down and pretended her focus was on putting the items into the carpetbag. He stood over her for another moment before leaving through the back door and going to the next car.
Mary Lou slumped against the seat. She’d done it. She had found the evidence that Mr. Finch was the thief.
She had to speak to the sheriff in Gran Colina before Mr. Finch hid the cameo or sold it to someone else.
When the train pulled into the station, Mary Lou was on the platform of the passenger car, ready to step down.
She was met by a tall, burly man wearing a vest and a badge. Unlike the sheriff of Pine Haven, this man was clean-shaven and looked well rested. He held out his hand to help her from the train. “Miss Ellison?”
She accepted his hand and stepped onto the platform. “How do you know my name?”
“I’m the sheriff of Gran Colina, Scott Braden.”
Mary Lou looked over her shoulder and back at him. “Can we talk over there?” She pointed to the corner of the station where they would be shielded from view but still able to observe the comings and goings on the platform.
He nodded and followed her.
She lowered her voice and asked, “Why are you here? I was afraid I’d lose valuable time seeking you out when I arrived.”
“I received a telegram from your boss. He said you were in danger and asked me to meet you.”
“My boss?” Her jaw fell in what she was certain was a most unladylike fashion. “I...am my own boss, Sheriff Braden.”
The sheriff pulled a telegram from his vest pocket and handed it to her.
Mary Lou Ellison on next train.
Reporter dressed as rancher.
In peril.
Please assist.
Jared Ivy.
Publisher, Pine Haven Record.
She looked beyond the sheriff and saw Mr. Finch on the steps of the last passenger car. He scanned the platform from his elevated vantage point. She ducked behind the sheriff.
“I am the publisher of the Pine Haven Record.” She crumpled the telegram in her hand and shoved it in the pocket of her trousers. “But I don’t have time to explain all of that this instant.”
She dared to peek around the sheriff just as Mr. Finch stepped off the train. “Are you familiar with the newsagent on the train?”
“I have seen him once or twice.”
“He’s coming this way and mustn’t see me talking to you.” The sheriff opened the side door to the station master’s office and urged her inside.
“Thank you.” She looked out the window as he pulled the shade down to prevent her face from being visible from the platform. “Mr. Finch is in possession of several items that were recently stolen in Pine Haven. I would like you to arrest him before he has time to sell or hide a particular item he slipped into his trouser pocket when I asked to purchase it on the train. I believe he may have realized I’ve uncovered his scheme.”
“Miss Ellison, why would you put yourself in danger by following a suspected thief?”
“I’ll be glad to tell you all about it later, but right now—” she ducked to see under the shade “—Mr. Finch is leaving. If you don’t follow him, the cameo he stole will be gone, and we may never find it again.”
Sheriff Braden scratched his temple. “I’ll go talk to him, but I won’t arrest him without more than the word of a woman who dresses like a rancher and claims to own a paper that I know belongs to Mr. Ivy.” He opened the door. “You stay here.”
Mary Lou bolted through the door after him. “I will not. I am the owner of the Pine Haven Record. And I dressed like this—” she made a sweeping gesture to indicate the jacket and trousers “—to lessen the probability that Mr. Finch would recognize me.”
The sheriff was walking along the length of the platform, headed in the direction Mr. Finch had taken. Mary Lou had to trot to keep up with his pace as they watched Mr. Finch step into the local barber shop.
“There’s a young man in jail in Pine Haven who has been accused of the thefts that I know Mr. Finch committed. An innocent boy’s life could be ruined forever if he has time to hide the evidence.”
Desperation drove her to stay on the sheriff’s heels. Jared might claim to own the Record, and Sheriff Braden might think she wasn’t sane—dressed as a man and insisting she owned a business—but she would do whatever it took to rescue Andrew.
“Please, sheriff! Let me show you he’s guilty.”
Sheriff Braden opened the door of the barber shop. “You stay out here.” He pointed to the sidewalk. “If you come inside, I may have to arrest you for interfering with my work.”
She wanted to stomp her foot in protest but knew that wouldn’t help her cause. She could see Mr. Finch in the barber’s chair. He was leaned back and the barber was wrapping his face in a towel.
An idea popped into her mind and she stepped away from the window with her back against the wall.
“Has anything been stolen in recent weeks in Gran Colina?”
The sheriff closed the door. “What kinds of things?”
Mary Lou dug into the carpetbag and pulled out the package of items she’d purchased on the train. She untied the string and unfolded the brown paper. The sheriff watched without much interest until she lifted the handkerchief.
He picked up the combs. Anger edged his voice and he narrowed his gaze on her. “Where did you get these?”
“I just bought them from the man in that chair.” She pointed at the barber’s window. “Who did he steal them from?”
The sheriff clenched his jaw. “My sister. She has a shop on Colina Street.” He held the combs in his hand. “Do you mind if I keep these?”
“No. But I’d appreciate if you’d make Mr. Finch give me back the money I paid for them.” She was actually able to smile. “Before you escort him to jail and then on to Pine Haven to face justice there. I’ll even pay the train fare, if I need to. I made a promise to a young man, and I am thrilled to be able to keep it.” The man who’d stolen her peace of mind was about to face judgment.
She stayed on the sidewalk while the sheriff went inside to confront Mr. Finch. The relief gave way to another thought.
When had she decided that Mr. Finch, and not Jared Ivy, was the man who’d stolen her peace?
It didn’t matter. She couldn’t let it matter. The telegram Jared had sent to Sheriff Braden was proof he still believed he was the rightful heir of the Record. Mr. Finch might be on his way to jail, but the matter of who owned the Pine Haven Record was still unsettled. Like her heart.
Chapter Thirteen
Jared shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The train was late. It was after eleven o’clock. Chester Meadows had assured him the train would arrive at ten thirty this morning.
Sheriff Collins walked out of the ticket master’s office. “You’re gonna wear the soles off your boots if you don’t sit down.” The sheriff folded himself onto the bench by the door. “Meadows said he just got a message that the train left Gran Colina late. Should be here any time.”
As if on cue, a whistle sounded in the distance.
“Did they say what caused the delay? Was it Elmer Finch? Do you think he put up a fight to keep from coming back here to face the judge? If anything has happened to Mary Lou...” He hadn’t meant to say that last sentence aloud.
Jared paced to the end of the platform. He wouldn’t relax until he saw Mary Lou with his own eyes. Maybe then he would find the humor in the sheriff’s words. “She put herself in the middle of that situation, too. And the man ran into a post. He knocked himself into the street.”
The train came around the last bend of track before it would reach the station. Jared wrung his hands. That woman had found her way into his mind. He couldn’t rest or eat if he thought she was in danger. Her stubbornness was maddening, but he couldn’t imagine her without it. The sweetness she showed to the people of Pine Haven was endearing. Her loyalty to Andrew was honorable.
But it had put her in danger. He needed to see her. To know for himself that she hadn’t been hurt.
Why hadn’t she sent him a telegram to let him know she was okay? Sheriff Collins had received one from the sheriff in Gran Colina. She must have known Jared would be worried.
Another long blast of the whistle alerted the town to the arrival of the train. The wheels squealed against the rails as the massive machine came to a stop. Jared looked from one end of the train to the other and didn’t see her. The novelty of reversing the routes must have drawn a larger number of passengers. The platform became of sea of people.
Mary Lou came from behind a group of strangers. “Jared! We did it!” She wore the dress she’d had on when she’d left the office the day before. There was no sign of the rancher outfit Jasmine had told him about.
He put his hands on her shoulders and slid them gently to her elbows. “Are you hurt?” His voice shook with the thought of someone bringing harm to her.
“Of course not.” She tilted her head to one side and met his eyes. “Why would you think that?”
“You went after a thief! Alone! One who carries a gun!” His voice had risen with each phrase, but he didn’t care. “You knew he carried a gun.”
