Bittersweep

by Wareeze Woodson

  She took time to lay her napkin beside her plate before frowning at him. “Certainly not.”

  His voice held a remnant of doubt, an implied question punctuating each word. “So, you didn’t enter my room for any reason?”

  “What a tomfool question. I said no.” Beside herself with indignation, she huffed, “Rule one is to pay your rent on time. Rule two is to keep your room tidy. Rule three is to keep the noise down. Rule four, don’t be late for meals or else do without. Rule five, no late comings and goings. Stay out as long as you please, but don’t come in expecting the door to be open to you past ten. I change linens, dust, and so forth once a week.”

  Franklin tried to interrupt, but she continued in a voice loud enough to drown him out. “That’s the way to maintain order. That’s what I do. The rooms aren’t due for a cleaning until the start of the week.” She gave an abrupt nod and turned back to her plate.

  He held up both hands and turned red, like a schoolboy caught in mischief. “I’m sorry. My mistake. My things were disturbed, and I wondered if you had changed your schedule is all.”

  Her brows arched. “Disturbed, like someone looked through your belongings?”

  “Exactly. I was here at noon. Everything was in order then.”

  “We didn’t,” she said with an emphatic nod. “Perhaps you left your things in disorder.”

  “Never,” he objected.

  “I admit, it doesn’t seem like you, but I haven’t entered your room this week.” She turned to her daughter and eyed her with a frown. “You been in his room?”

  Betty shook her head.

  Elizabeth held up her hands. “I haven’t entered his bedchamber. Ever.”

  “Sit yourself down and eat your supper, Franklin,” Mrs. Ledbetter commanded. “It’ll calm you down a mite. There’s always a reasonable explanation for goings on. No telling what that might be, but nothing happens by itself.”

  “I’ll bet it’s that rider,” Betty chimed in. “You know, the yellow one, out at the old Clarke place come to town to haunt us.”

  “Sakes alive, Betty. What utter nonsense. Yellow rider,” she harrumphed. “No such thing. I don’t hold with ghosts or headless horsemen and the like. Whatever is done is done by wickedness here among the folks.” Mrs. Ledbetter waved her spoon in the air. “Now, eat your food before it gets cold. I’ve got more to do than listen to ghost stories. You too, Betty. Chores are waiting.”

  Franklin slumped into his chair and served his plate. He stirred the stew around but failed to eat more than a few bites. “Did anyone get into the house while you were out?”

  Mrs. Ledbetter shrugged. “Not to my knowledge, but I went shopping earlier. Anyhow, Betty was here all day.”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Betty mumbled. “If someone was prowling around in your room and I heard it, I would’ve supposed it was you in one of your tearing hurries.”

  Elizabeth glanced at him. He appeared shaken, his expression stiff and his complexion pale. Something was up, but what? “I didn’t hear anything either, Franklin. After I got home, I didn’t leave my room for the rest of the day.”

  It was rather alarming to imagine a stranger searching through the house. Especially someone bold enough to enter in broad daylight when the house was occupied. Elizabeth’s sense of security developed a small crack. She’d make sure to lock the door to her room in future.

  Mrs. Ledbetter frowned. “Franklin, you’re as fussy as an old maid. Is anything missing?”

  “No, just seems rifled through like someone was looking for something.”

  “Well, if you think someone’s been in the house looking to steal, we’d better go to the sheriff.” Mrs. Ledbetter’s tone indicated that she was out of patience with this line of talk.

  “No, no. That won’t be necessary. Perhaps I am mistaken.” His voice held a note of desperation.

  Elizabeth studied him from the corner of her eye. His expression contradicted his words, sending a little shudder through her. Franklin seemed to believe an intruder had been in his room.

  Mrs. Ledbetter frowned at Franklin. When he didn’t speak again, she said, “Good. I figured as much. Now let’s talk about something better than housebreakers. Otherwise, you’ll have us all afraid to sleep in our beds tonight with such imaginings.” She blinked at everyone and waved her hand. “Any ideas on a more cheerful subject?”

  Betty’s frown echoed that of her mother’s. “Shame on you, Franklin. You want us all as nervous and jumpy as you are. The dance. Let’s talk about the dance instead.”

  Mrs. Ledbetter gazed at Betty, threw her napkin on the table and drew a deep breath. “That’s fine by me. The first thing—Elizabeth, you and Betty will ride with me in my buggy. Franklin can ride along side. Mind, I intend to leave not a second later than five o’clock. Being on the road after dark should only be necessary on the way home.”

  Betty clasped her hands. “And the dance is scarcely a week away. I can’t wait.” She pushed away from the table, and on her way out, she said, “I’ve got to wash my hair. It’ll take two days rolled in rags to make the curls stay put.”

  Elizabeth grinned at Betty’s comment before slowly rising from the table. “Thank you for including me. I appreciate the offer. I’m looking forward to the dance as well.”

  She couldn’t contain her excitement about the coming dance either, but something seemed off, under the surface, hidden. She shook the unsettled sensation away. No sense in allowing Franklin’s apprehension or his observations to spill over on her. Next weekend couldn’t come fast enough to suit her.

  The following Monday, Elizabeth trailed JP into the Bittersweep Bank. After the incident with the intruder inside the boardinghouse, placing her money in the bank no longer seemed farfetched or unreasonable.

  Having never ventured inside the bank before, she surveyed everything with pleasure. Potted ferns stood on each side of the door, fragile, adding green, frothy beauty to the surroundings. The oiled oak floors, the tellers’ cages, the desks behind the rail, all expensive, sturdy, all depicting a facade of security, all adding a trustworthy atmosphere, a safe place to transact business.

  There were a few paintings of horses on the wall opposite the windows. RUPERT LANDOW, PRESIDENT OF BITTERSWEEP BANK was etched into the frosted-glass window in the office door at the back of the building as well as on the front pane.

  JP headed to the cage where Franklin stood behind the barred teller’s window. “How are you today, Franklin?”

  He grinned and nodded to Elizabeth, his gaze roving between her and JP. With a twinkle in his eyes, Franklin gazed beyond her at someone seated behind a desk then back to her. Elizabeth glanced at the desk and was surprised to see Valeria there.

  JP stepped closer to the teller’s window and motioned to the nameplate pinned to Franklin’s chest. “A shiny new badge, I see.”

  “We all wear one now.” He grimaced. “Pity it doesn’t have my name on it. I would have liked that. I guess having our names displayed would make us all too prideful. Still, everyone now understands where I work, like there’s a soul in town that didn’t know it already.”

  “That’s a fact.”

  Franklin straightened and placed his hands on the edge of the counter. “Can I be of assistance?”

  JP gestured to Elizabeth. “Miss Campbell wants to open a new account.”

  “Miss Landow handles all the new accounts.” Franklin pointed to Valeria behind a desk. “She’ll be happy to help you.”

  Turning away, JP waved. “Thank you, Franklin.”

  Elizabeth entered the desk area behind the rail and approached Valeria. With a smile, she said, “I had no idea you worked in your brother’s bank.”

  Valeria returned the smile, but her eyes remained hard, wary and slightly annoyed. “It’s all in the family. How may I
help you?” She glanced beyond Elizabeth and nodded at JP.

  JP moved up beside Elizabeth. “I talked her into placing her money in the bank. Safer than a mattress, and she still has access to the funds when necessary.”

  Valeria nodded, her expression softened. “Very wise. If you’ll both be seated, I’ll be happy to assist you.” She pulled documents from a drawer and slid the papers across the desk. “If you’ll fill out everything and sign the bottom, we should be in business. Then you can make deposits and withdrawals, too.”

  JP held a chair for Elizabeth before settling in another seat beside her. He crossed one ankle over his knee.

  Valeria leaned toward Elizabeth. “Do you need any help filling out the form?”

  “I think I can manage,” Elizabeth supplied.

  Valeria relaxed against her chair back, turning to JP. “Are you ready for the big shindig? Next weekend will be on us shortly.”

  “We have everything under control.” JP chuckled. “When did you ever know of a time Aunt Maude let the reins slip out of her hands?”

  “Never, but one day she’ll find herself in the background.” Valeria gently smoothed her letter opener with her fingers. “When you marry, that will all change.” She stared at him, searching, seemingly viewing his reaction. “Not a pleasant situation for you.”

  Elizabeth glanced up from the document and studied Valeria before gauging JP’s expression. Amusement lurked in his eyes. What did he find so humorous?

  “She’s safe in her domain for a spell longer.”

  Tension crackled in the room. What was JP trying to do? Get a rise out of Valeria, or was he trying to put her off? The answer would be of great interest to Elizabeth and it seemed Valeria was curious, too.

  Valeria raised her brows. “No immediate plans?”

  “Are you asking for the Town Cryer, or is this idle curiosity?”

  Valeria shrugged. “Just wondering.”

  Elizabeth slid the forms back across the desk along with a paycheck. “I’ll need some cash back. Thank you for helping me with this.”

  “Of course.” Valeria pushed away from her desk. “I’ll be right back with your money.”

  Chapter 14

  Saturday arrived faster than Elizabeth had supposed possible and she still dithered about the proper dress to wear. Should she present a restrained, sensible appearance to enhance her image as a reliable teacher? Perhaps she should wear her hair in a bun similar to the one worn by Mrs. Ledbetter.

  Horse feathers. She decided to let her hair down and enjoy the dance.

  Elizabeth opened the wardrobe and fingered through several dresses, touching, examining the make and the cloth. Which gown? Nothing too fancy, not that she owned one that might be considered elaborate. The cranberry-colored crepe, suitable for a party, had seen better days, but it would do in a pinch. She laid the gown on the bed and smoothed the material with the pads of her fingertips. This one will do.

  She completed her ablutions and slipped into her dress. After trying several arrangements of her locks, she braided the top and left the rest to fall in loose curls down her back. Snatching up a light wrap, she rushed down the stairs. Excitement churned in the pit of her stomach. She could hardly wait.

  Mrs. Ledbetter emerged from the kitchen carrying a basket. “Land sakes, don’t you look pretty. The young ladies best look to their laurels. When you arrive, all the hands and cowpokes will come running.” She chuckled. “Even an old bird like me won’t have a minute to sit down if I choose to dance.” She called up the stairs, “Betty, I’m gonna leave you if you don’t rustle some.”

  Betty tore down the steps dressed in her pink organza gown. “I’m so excited. Is Franklin going to ride alongside our buggy?”

  “Betty, I declare, all you think about is men. You’re only seventeen. You have time aplenty. Men don’t care for an overbold miss. And Franklin isn’t here yet. Let’s go.”

  She raised her brows at her daughter and marched out the door. Betty huffed and flounced after her mother.

  Elizabeth bit down on her urge to laugh and followed two steps behind them. The last one to take a seat in the buggy, she straightened her skirts as Mrs. Ledbetter snapped the reins. Soon, Betty gave up her sulks and prattled on and on. Her ceaseless chatter faded from Elizabeth’s consciousness as the buggy rumbled past the cutoff to the old Clarke homestead. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed.

  One day soon, she’d find an opportunity to collect her mother’s box . . . if it was still there. Even after all these years, being well-hidden in the secret hiding place had surely preserved the treasure. Elizabeth had no idea what the box contained, but it was part of her mother, and she longed to hold it to her heart. Her spirit sank a little at the possibility of not finding the case after all. Still, part of the house remained standing, the chimney and a partial wall.

  The buggy bounced through a washed-out rut jarring Elizabeth back to attention. She hadn’t a clue how long she’d been lost in reflections, but she shook off the thoughts. Discovery was for another day.

  Dusk encroached on the land. Over the rise, open meadows flanked by a forest of white-oaks, sweetgums, yaupon thickets, and pines appeared. A long lane led the way to the Rocking H dwelling before branching off to the left where a vast array of lanterns depicted a huge barn with a corral attached to one side. Buggies and all manner of wagons were parked everywhere, and countless horses milled around in the pen.

  Farther up the rise, light spilled from the big, stone house with several large columns across the front. Impressive, even the trees surrounding the structure were substantial adding elegance to the overall atmosphere. What she wouldn’t give for a little peek inside.

  Catching the smell of roasting meat, she turned toward the barn. Smoke rose from the barbecue pit encircled by a group of men, some talking, others minding the fires and turning the meat. Fiddle music sang a welcome and anticipation tightened Elizabeth’s stomach. She couldn’t wait to dance all in lighthearted fun.

  From young girls to very old ladies, the apparel varied in color and style from freshly starched calico to fancy silk gowns. Happy to see her dress would fit right in after all, she allowed a big smile to curve her lips. With the party in full swing, dancers crowded the floor of the big barn, and in their midst, she caught sight of JP dancing with Valeria. For a second, she allowed envy to swamp her. She drew a deep breath and brought her gaze back to her companions.

  “Betty,” Mrs. Ledbetter said, “go on with you now and introduce the new teacher to the folks. Might be you’ll receive a good grade in manners at least.”

  “Mom, I’m a grown woman, not a schoolroom miss. I finished with the highest level.”

  Mrs. Ledbetter let out a harrumph and, with her basket on her arm, headed out the back door toward the food preparations area.

  How the sassy young miss managed to frown with her eyes and smile with her mouth nearly brought Elizabeth to laughter. “You run along and have a good time. I’ll find my way.”

  Betty grinned. “It’s all right. It’ll only take a second for the men to make a beeline to us. Several of ’em have an eye on you already. One of JP’s twin brothers is leading the pack.”

  The words barely left Betty’s mouth before a swarm of men headed in their direction. One tall cowboy in particular with golden hair, green eyes, and showing to advantage in his trousers sidled up to Elizabeth.

  He doffed his hat. “Ma’am, I’m Hamilton Honeycutt at your service. If you would care to dance, I’d be honored to be your partner.”

  She smiled up at him. “I’d be delighted, kind sir.”

  When the dance ended, nearly an exact duplicate of Hamilton approached. “I say, Ham, you’ve been hogging all the pretty girls long enough.” Smiling at Elizabeth, he said, “Remember me from the schoolhouse? I brought you a message from my br
other concerning Amy.”

  “Of course I remember.”

  He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Pay no mind to Ham’s charming ways. He’s sweet on Lydia, from over at the settlement.”

  “Now, Hud, that’s insulting to say the like to a pretty girl,” Ham complained. “What about you and Mary Lou?”

  Hudson growled, “Mary Lou don’t own me, but Lydia is hugging up with Walt this very minute. You know he’s taken with her.”

  With an indignant swell of his chest, Ham cried, “Dancing with the likes of Walt. I’ll soon put a stop to that.” He whirled and hurried through the crowd.

  Hudson chuckled as he watched his brother stride away. “Naw, he isn’t sweet on her. You’d think his tail’s on fire.” He turned to Elizabeth. “If it would please the lady, I’d love to have this dance.”

  “Certainly.” She moved into his arms and he danced her into the crowd swaying to the music. The excitement stirred by the fiddler caught her, and being danced around the floor with such a handsome gentleman added to the thrill of the moment.

  After several partners, she accepted another invitation to dance with Hudson. Over his shoulder, she spied JP dancing with Betty. Each time he took to the floor with another partner, Elizabeth instantly knew of it. Not that she wanted to dance with him, no indeed. She averted her gaze, pushed thoughts of JP aside, and smiled at Hudson.

  Catching a glimpse of a dour-faced older woman standing at the edge of the dance floor, a fierce streak of animosity washed over Elizabeth. Such instant dislike had never overtaken her before. She prided herself on not making snap judgments, but she couldn’t dispel her aversion to the woman. The image of this particular female, yelling harsh words at someone, flashed dimly in Elizabeth’s memory, and every muscle in her body tightened. She tried to bring the image into focus but was forced to abandon the attempt when the dance ended.