Carol Cox

by Trouble in Store

  Two of the ladies raised their hands. The others leaned forward, with their lips parted.

  “Did you hear what the boy said when he ran to her?” Mrs. Pike paused for effect. “He called her Mama.” She let that bombshell sink in before she added, “Ladies, I believe it is possible that she is the boy’s mother.”

  Melanie felt her face flame. Despite Micah’s assurance to the contrary, it was obviously all too easy for people to believe the worst about them. She bit her lips to hold back a groan. The situation wasn’t just a bad one—it was worse than they’d feared.

  She couldn’t let such a contemptible lie go unchallenged. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped forward, ready to defend her and Caleb’s honor. At the same instant, Ophelia Pike turned around and spotted Melanie.

  The mayor’s wife drew herself up and sniffed. “Come, ladies. Let’s be going.”

  At the sight of the icy stares from the women in the group, Melanie’s courage faded and her brave words died in her throat. She had a sudden impulse to ask Rafe to hitch his wagon up right then and take her back to Fort Verde, where she could catch the stage and leave Cedar Ridge forever. But with the marshal’s warning ringing in her ears, even that option had been cut off.

  With a low cry, she turned and fled back to the safety of the mercantile.

  22

  If you measure out your preaching by so many minutes per person, I guess we’re going to hear one short sermon today—eh, Preacher?” Andrew Bingham nudged Pastor Dunstan with his elbow, chortling at his own joke.

  The circuit rider smiled at him. “I seem to recall that our Lord shared some of His most precious truths at times when He was alone with the twelve. I don’t believe the size of the group matters to Him as much as the hearts of the listeners.”

  He grinned at Andrew’s crestfallen expression, then turned to the rest of the little group. “Let’s begin.”

  Melanie slid into the middle of one of the benches she and Levi had helped Caleb set up the night before. Even though she had questioned whether they needed to set up as many seats as usual after the spiteful words she’d overheard at the town meeting, finding her doubts confirmed had been a sore disappointment.

  She made a quick count while Levi settled in his seat between her and Caleb. Idalou Fetterman was there, bless her, along with the Professor, Andrew, and Micah. Adding the three of them, that made a total of seven, not counting Pastor Dunstan—a far cry from the first service she’d attended there.

  Levi snuggled close to her. “Where is everybody?” he whispered.

  The pastor’s opening prayer gave her an excuse to shush the boy and avoid giving an answer. How was she supposed to respond to his question when she didn’t fully understand the reasons herself?

  After singing two verses of “Onward, Christian Soldiers”—a feeble attempt that sounded nothing like a valiant army ready to march to victory—they settled back in their seats and Pastor Dunstan opened his Bible.

  The bell over the door jingled softly. Melanie looked to the side and saw Will Blake slip inside. He closed the door softly and eased around to take a seat on Melanie’s right.

  A light blush tinged her cheeks. With so many empty benches, there was no need for him to choose the one the three of them already occupied. She didn’t miss the dark look Caleb sent his way.

  The pastor cleared his throat. “Today, we’re going to take a look at the fourth chapter of Second Corinthians, beginning with verse eight: ‘We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed. . . .’”

  Troubled. Perplexed. Persecuted. The words summed up Melanie’s feelings perfectly. Her hopes—and Caleb’s—for making a new start in Cedar Ridge were being shot down at every turn, with the town she had come to love and planned to make her home turning against them both.

  She truly did feel they were being threatened from all sides, not knowing where the next attack might come from. She blinked back tears and listened as Pastor Dunstan went on.

  “When circumstances turn against us, it’s easy to feel afraid . . . alone . . . forsaken. But as Paul reminded Timothy, God has not given us a spirit of fear.”

  Melanie sniffed quietly. Easy enough for the pastor to say. He didn’t have the threat of vigilantes dangling over his head. And he was free to ride away once the service ended. He hadn’t been warned to stay in town, with the promise of being tracked down like a common criminal if he dared to leave. Her thoughts continued along those gloomy lines until she realized with a start that the rest of the congregation were bowing their heads for the closing prayer. With a pang of guilt, Melanie ducked her head, offering a quick prayer for forgiveness and hoping no one had noticed her lapse.

  After the service, Caleb picked up the small wicker basket that served as their collection plate and carried it to the preacher. “Based on the passage you chose this morning, I got the feeling you’ve heard what’s been going on around here lately.”

  Pastor Dunstan nodded. “I tend to pick up most of the local news.”

  Caleb nodded at the basket. “I’m afraid it’s pretty slim pickings this morning. I hate to suggest it, but you might want to consider finding someplace else to meet until all this has been resolved. None of this is your fault, but it’s certainly affecting the offering.”

  The pastor put his hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “God is in control, and He has never let me down yet.” He looked away for a moment and cleared his throat. “I don’t want to appear to have been listening to idle gossip, but I would like to leave you with another verse to ponder.”

  As he spoke, he darted a glance in Melanie’s direction. “First Thessalonians, chapter five, verse twenty-two.”

  He squeezed Caleb’s shoulder and looked at him earnestly. “Remember, a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.” With that cryptic remark, he gathered up his Bible and headed toward the livery stable, ready to ride on to the next stop on his circuit.

  Melanie looked around for her Bible. “What was that verse?”

  Caleb had already picked up his own and was leafing through the pages. “First Thessalonians, chapter five.” He stopped at a page and ran his finger down the column. “Here it is.” A moment later, his face tightened.

  Melanie moved next to him and peered over his shoulder. “What does it say?”

  The muscles in Caleb’s jaw flexed. “‘Abstain from all appearance of evil.’”

  Melanie’s heart sank, and her gaze locked onto Caleb’s, wondering if she looked as mortified as he did. She knew one thing for sure. Pastor Dunstan hadn’t just picked up a few stray tidbits concerning the happenings around Cedar Ridge.

  He’d gotten an earful.

  “I got the impression the minister’s message struck rather close to home for the two of you yesterday.” The Professor set three cans of peaches on the counter and gave both Melanie and Caleb a look of sympathy.

  Melanie watched Caleb tear a sheet of brown paper from the roller above the counter and wrap it around the cans to make a neat parcel. “It certainly captured the essence of what we’ve been living through lately,” he said.

  The Professor nodded. “It’s difficult when people talk about you behind your back.”

  Melanie studied the man in his fastidious black suit and ascot while she wrote up the order and added it to the Professor’s running tab. She couldn’t help wondering if his wistful tone spoke of his own familiarity with feeling excluded as well as hers and Caleb’s.

  She slid the parcel across the counter and smiled. “Will you be at the Founders Day picnic tomorrow?”

  “What?” The Professor blinked, as if pulling his thoughts back from a place far away. “Oh, certainly. Are the two of you looking forward to the festivities?”

  Caleb leaned against the counter and gave his friend a rueful smile. “I can’t say we’re exactly looking forward to them, not when the whole town seems to look on us as some kind of outcasts. But
we’re not going to let that stop us.”

  He looked to Melanie for confirmation, and she gave him a nod. They had talked about their situation during the slow morning hours at the store. As tempting as it would be to avoid the gathering, where they were bound to be on the receiving end of more stares and comments, it would be far worse to let it appear they were hiding out. Such actions would be taken as an admission of guilt.

  “We’re determined to go, no matter what,” Caleb said. “We know we’ve done nothing wrong, and we can’t let rumors convict us unjustly.”

  “Bravo!” The Professor’s approving smile included them both. “That is precisely the way to deal with nonsense like this. George and Alvin would be proud of the two of you.”

  Caleb’s expression turned somber, and he drummed his fingers on the countertop. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something. When we were out at your place the other day, you mentioned something about poison.”

  Melanie sucked in her breath. What had prompted that abrupt change of topic?

  “I’ve been thinking about Charley Weber’s death,” Caleb went on. “No one suspected it was murder at the time. From what you’ve told us, he became ill but seemed to be recuperating nicely. Then he took a sudden turn for the worse and died in his sleep. Is that right?”

  “Yes, that’s the way I remember it.”

  Caleb took a deep breath. “If Charley was poisoned, do you have any idea what might have been used? When I think of poison, I think of things like arsenic and strychnine that produce rather obvious symptoms. No one would mistake that for a natural death.

  “But now I’ve started wondering whether there’s some kind of poison that could kill a person without the cause being apparent.”

  The corners of the Professor’s thin lips curved upward, giving him the appearance of a teacher beaming his approval upon a prize pupil. “You are quite right. Not every poison produces effects that are quite so dramatic or so easily identified. I happened to have a good book on the subject at home, if you’d care to look at it.”

  Melanie lifted her hand. “I don’t think that will be—”

  Caleb cut her off. “I’d appreciate that. It might be helpful.”

  The Professor’s eyes gleamed. “Very well. I’ll go get it and bring it back to you.” With a pleasant nod, he picked up his parcel and went on his way.

  Before the bell stopped jingling, Melanie turned to Caleb, her hands on her hips. “Poison?”

  Caleb shrugged. “I didn’t want to bring it up before, but it’s a possibility I’ve been turning over in my mind. I thought as long as the Professor was here, I might as well ask him about it. How else can you explain a death that everyone around here, including Doc, accepted as natural?”

  Melanie sagged against the counter. “Shouldn’t you just tell Marshal Hooper about it? Remember what he said about letting him be the one to handle this?”

  Caleb stepped over to her and cupped her shoulders in his hands. “Don’t you see? The marshal told us himself he isn’t any good with puzzles. He’s going around asking questions, but he isn’t getting any answers. And people are getting edgier by the minute. You heard them at the meeting the other night. They were talking about getting a vigilance committee together. I may not have been out here very long, but I’ve been here long enough to know that situations like this can turn deadly in a hurry.”

  Melanie felt the blood drain from her face as the meaning of his words sank in. “You mean, deadly for us?” His grim expression was all the answer she needed.

  Caleb wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. Melanie clung to him, treasuring the feeling of being safe, protected.

  She took a shaky breath and drew back, squaring her shoulders. “All right, what do we need to do? Where do we start?”

  Caleb squeezed her shoulders. “I’m going to read the Professor’s book and see if I get any insights from it. In the meantime, we need to watch the people around us—really look at them. Somebody around here is carrying around a heavy load of guilt. He’s bound to do something that will give himself away.”

  “And just how are we supposed to do that?” Melanie asked. “Watch people, I mean. Business has fallen off to a trickle. It isn’t like we have a parade of customers coming through our doors these days.”

  Caleb’s eyes took on a gleam that reminded her of the Professor. “You’re forgetting—tomorrow will be a perfect opportunity to see them all together in one place. Everyone in town will be at the Founders Day picnic.”

  23

  The late afternoon sun slanted across the valley, highlighting the pinkish striations on the hills overlooking the Founders Day celebration. Clumps of Indian paintbrush and lupine dotted the meadow where the potato sack race was in full swing.

  Melanie stood beside Caleb under the spreading branches of a sycamore tree watching Micah Rawlins and Andrew Bingham bound along ahead of the rest of the pack, matching each other hop for hop. The race looked like it would end in a tie until Andrew surged ahead in a burst of speed and tumbled across the finish line first. Flopping to the ground, he scrambled his way out of the sack and jumped back onto his feet, ready to offer good-natured condolences to Micah for coming in second.

  Melanie joined in the general applause, trying to hide her restlessness. As promising as Caleb’s plan to study the crowd for signs of guilt had sounded, it had borne no fruit. They had scanned faces throughout the opening remarks by Mayor Pike, the picnic that followed, and three heats of horse racing, where the local cowboys pitted their mounts against each other.

  A baseball game had taken up much of the afternoon. Levi tired of watching before the first inning was over, and begged to be allowed to play with some of the local ranchers’ children. Pleased that he had children his own age to play with, Melanie encouraged Caleb to let him go, and the youngsters had spent several hours exploring the creek and darting in and out of the old storage caves in a game of hide-and-seek.

  So now, with the festivities nearly ended and the sun hovering low in the western sky, Melanie felt the day had been a waste as far as their attempt at sleuthing was concerned. Other than enjoying the beautiful late spring weather and keeping Levi out of mischief, they hadn’t accomplished much.

  She nudged Caleb with her elbow. “Have you seen anything you think will help us?”

  Caleb answered without taking his focus off the crowd. “I hate to admit it, but I haven’t. I was so sure that if we kept our eyes open we’d be able to spot some clue that would point to the guilty party, but I haven’t seen a single thing worthy of note.” He let out a dry laugh. “Unless you count all the icy looks sent our way.”

  Melanie nodded wearily. She had seen them, too, and that was part of the reason she and Caleb had taken shelter under the sycamore instead of joining the rest of the onlookers.

  “Here you are!”

  Melanie swung around to find Mrs. Fetterman bustling up behind them, holding a plate in her hands.

  “I noticed you didn’t get any of my raspberry torte when you filled your plates, so I saved the last piece for you.” She held the plate up under Melanie’s nose. “I was going to save two pieces, but Wendell Trask beat me to it, so you’ll have to share.”

  Melanie stared round-eyed at the slice of pastry, then sent a pleading look at Caleb. To her dismay, he only grinned.

  “After you,” he said.

  Traitor. Unable to think of an excuse that wouldn’t hurt the dear woman’s feelings, she picked the cake up gingerly and took a tiny bite. Her eyes flared wide when the tangy flavor of sun-ripened raspberries exploded inside her mouth.

  “Why . . . that’s scrumptious!” While Mrs. Fetterman beamed, she took another bite and closed her eyes in sheer pleasure. “I do believe that’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  Mrs. Fetterman chuckled. “I’m so pleased you think so. Now, be sure to share the rest.” With a merry wink, she walked away, leaving them alone again.

  Melanie gl
ared up at Caleb. “Did you know she could cook like that?”

  Caleb burst out laughing. “It seems to me I told you she was a fine cook the day you arrived. You were the one who got worried about her mixing some of her patent remedies in with her food.” He eyed the rest of the slice in her hand. “You did hear her tell you to share that, didn’t you?”

  Melanie pinched off a small morsel and handed it to him, then popped the rest into her mouth. “That’s all you deserve.”

  Caleb raised his eyebrow when he took the tiny piece but didn’t offer a protest.

  Melanie laughed and asked, “What’s supposed to happen next? It’ll be getting dark soon. Is there anything we need to stay for?”

  “I think all we have left is a closing speech by Mayor Pike.” Caleb gestured toward the edge of the meadow, where a handful of people were walking toward the bunting-draped dais.

  Melanie made a face. “Do you want to stay and hear him speak?”

  Caleb shook his head, looking as tired as Melanie felt. “I’ve heard about as much from the Pikes over the last few days as I want to.” He glanced toward the setting sun. “We might as well head home.”

  “No, not yet!” Levi had run up just in time to hear Melanie’s question and his father’s answer. He stared up at them, hopping from one foot to the other and wringing his hands.

  Caleb and Melanie stared down at the boy. “You want to stay and hear the mayor’s speech?” Caleb asked in an incredulous tone.

  Levi bobbed his head up and down. “We have to stay, Papa. We have to!”

  Caleb looked at Melanie. “What do you say?”

  She gave a little laugh and shrugged. “I guess it won’t matter if we wait a little longer.”

  They moved over to the clearing where the crowd now gathered, spreading blankets on the ground in anticipation of the mayor’s speech. They took up a position a few yards behind the group, at the edge of the light cast by lanterns strung between the trees.