After what seemed hours to her, she entered Bittersweep. Once panic loosened its grip on her, she became conscious of the items grasped tightly in her hand. She placed the locket around her throat and stuffed the beaded, leather pouch into her satchel. On trembling legs, she entered the sheriff’s office.
The deputy glanced up from his desk and greeted her with a brief smile. “How can I help you, little lady?”
She sank onto the chair in front of his desk. “I’m here to report the murder of Franklin Plunkett.”
The deputy narrowed his eyes, but his face blanked with an unreadable expression. “That’s some tale. You’re sure it was Plunkett? You say he was dead? You wasn’t hysterical, was you?”
She glared at him from beneath lowered brows. “Certainly not. I felt of his throat for a pulse, but he was cold and stiff to the touch. It was awful.”
“Where did all this killing happen?” He paused before adding, “If it was a killing.”
“Beside the track to the Clarke place fairly close to the homestead.” She shuddered. “It looked as if someone tried to brain him. There is blood on the ground and on his shirt.”
“What was you doing on the track way out there?”
She swallowed. “I wanted to inspect the burned-out house. Why did folks destroy only that dwelling because of yellow fever?”
He stiffened, and his expression clouded with disapproval. “That don’t mean nothing to you. I wasn’t here back then so I couldn’t tell you. My advice: let sleeping dogs lie and don’t go nosing around.” He leaned back in his chair. “Now, did you see anyone on the road, coming or going?”
She shook her head. “I saw no one. Only his body in the woods.”
“He wasn’t actually in the lane?”
She gritted her teeth in an attempt to keep her answer civil. “No. Before you ask, the sun glinted off of a piece of something shiny and caught my attention. When I edged a little closer, I could see someone lying on the ground. I went to see if I could help and discovered Franklin.” She blinked back gathering moisture. “It was horrible.”
The deputy edged forward and held up his hands. “No need to cry over it. Done is done. And tears want do nothing to put you in the clear. Are you saying you didn’t kill him?”
She wanted to scream at the dense man. “I did not kill him. If that’s all, may I go now?”
He leaned back in his chair and casually ran his fingers beneath his suspenders. “Course you can go, but the sheriff is certain to have some questions for you when he returns.”
She stiffened and momentarily tightened her fingers around the chair arms. Rising with dignity, she gritted out, “He knows where to find me.”
The deputy frowned. “He ain’t gonna take kindly to you lightin’ out of here before he has the particulars of the murder, if it is murder. The deceased might of fell and hit his head on a rock.”
Exasperated, Elizabeth granted, “Perhaps you have the right of it. An unfortunate accident. Especially after the bank holdup.”
“Now, don’t go spreading rumors, stirring trouble and such.” The deputy raised both hands. “I aim to get to the bottom of the supposed murder. You hang around like I said.”
“Certainly. School has started. I’ll be very busy with my teaching plans.” With that, she headed for the door. Of all the dull-witted, opinionated boors she was ever likely to meet, he took the cake. If crimes are left for him to solve, the criminals will have nothing to fear. She clenched her fists. Botheration, a case of the messenger catching it in the neck proved true in this instance. Anger engulfed her, but she cautiously marched out the door before she gave vent to her frayed feelings.
“I’d like to box his ears,” she mumbled under her breath as she hurried toward the boardinghouse to the comfort of her room, familiar and normal.
She rushed to her chamber, exhausted, her mind in turmoil. The image of Franklin lying in a pool of blood made her sick. The picture of his body, stiff, lifeless, in his usual gray suit kept repeating over and over again. She couldn’t dismiss the smell, the sight of blood, the crushed skull, none of it.
Sinking into her chair, she gazed out the window, not actually taking note of the beauty of the day, simply staring. She had too much to consider, her heritage, her attraction to JP, his offer of marriage, what the future might hold, and the death of Franklin most of all.
Any death was regrettable, but finding the body had reminded her of burying her baby sister’s corpse all those years ago. The pain, the loss, the necessity to dig the grave with her hands would always haunt her. Elizabeth covered her mouth with her fingers while tears scalded her cheeks. Thoughts of JP pushed Franklin’s death to the back of her mind.
Because of her heritage she couldn’t—wouldn’t encourage JP’s attention any further. It wouldn’t be fair to him, or her. She must avoid him as much as possible before her heart shattered beyond repair. A dismal future loomed before her, dim and lonely. At the moment, she couldn’t picture her life without JP, but she would move on somehow, keep on breathing, keep on living, keep on going about her business, but finding another man to love was out of the question. That heartbreaking loss hurt almost beyond bearing. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Chapter 18
The next day, the tread of heavy footsteps landed on the porch of the boardinghouse. Elizabeth happened to be the only one home and opened the door. Surprised to see the deputy she blinked at him for a moment. “May I help you, deputy?”
He stood with his feet planted apart, a defiant twist on his lips and his fists bunched at his side. “Me and Smith’s oldest young’un recovered Mr. Franklin Plunkett’s body. He’s dead right enough.”
A chill ran down her spine and she swallowed hard. She didn’t need to be reminded of his death. She certainly didn’t want to talk about the incident. By the look on the deputy’s face, it seemed she had no choice. “Perhaps you’d best come inside.”
He scraped his boots and entered with a belligerent glare. “You own a derringer?”
Taken aback, Elizabeth returned his stare. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Plunkett was done in with a little gun. The hole in him was small, like it was made with such. You was the last to see him alive, and you got a female weapon. Ain’t no right thinking man would pack such a sissy pistol.”
Elizabeth’s heart began to pound. “When I saw him last, he was dead. I had no quarrel with Franklin. Why would I shoot him?”
The deputy narrowed his lids and studied her intently. “He was shot up close, like he knew his killer after a quarrel or something. At the dance out at the Rocking H, I seen you jawin’ at him mighty fierce-like. I seen you with my own eyes. The Smith boy reminded me of it when he seen the body. He seen you, too.”
“Certainly I attended the dance and I spoke to Franklin, but we didn’t quarrel.”
“Plunkett went stomping off mighty displeased bout something. I calls that fussing. You stared after him like a dying calf in a hailstorm, too. Maybe you was jealous cause he didn’t take a shine to you.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Wanting to slap his impertinent face, she flexed her curled fingers. “I don’t recall even seeing Franklin after you came to tell us about the robbery. You couldn’t have seen me talking with him.”
The deputy averted his eyes for a second before narrowing his lids and glaring back at her. “It was told to me.”
Outraged by his lie that he’d personally seen her, she demanded, “Someone told you? Who?”
“Never you mind. The important thing is Franklin might of come on to you and you took it as a insult.” His lips curled with a measure of mockery. “You being a old maid and all.”
She barely managed to hold back her gasp of outrage. “My age had nothing to do with anything. My single state had nothing to do with the incident be
sides being no concern of yours or anyone else.” If he didn’t leave soon, she would slap him silly and take the consequences. “There were no harsh words exchanged between us. Furthermore, I wasn’t attracted to him like that.”
“Naw, he was only a simple bank clerk,” he sneered. “I hear tell Honeycutt and the high man at the bank are all honeying around. What’s a lowly bank clerk to compare to that?”
She stiffened at the insult and her temper simmered near the boiling point. “You are mistaken in all of your assumptions.”
“Maybe he was the jealous one and you had to shoot him. Is that how it was?”
With her voice raised two levels, she yelled, “No! I had nothing to do with his death, I tell you.”
He ignored her denial and continued to stare at her with his hands on his hips. “He was done in by a gun. By your own say so, you got such a weapon. You and him had a disagreement. You was out on the track to the Clarke place. The Smith boy seen you walking in that direction so there’s no denying it.”
She shook her head in disbelief and glared at him. “I don’t believe this. Of course I was in the lane to the Clarke place. If you remember, I told you I found the body.”
“Natural-like to say you found him to cover your tracks. To my way of thinking, it all adds up. You was there. You been fighting. It was told you exchanged hard words only a couple of days ago.”
“What?”
“I done told you, someone told me you was seen at the dance.”
In a heated tone, she all but shouted, “That is ridiculous.”
He straightened to his full height. “Seems you’re as mad as fire right now. I’m saying you lost your temper and shot him on the spur of the moment. Maybe not deliberate, but he’s done in all the same.” He tightened his lips. “You’re coming with me till the sheriff gets back.”
She swallowed, and dread slowly engulfed her. “You have no call to arrest me. The sheriff can find me at the boardinghouse.”
“Yeah, and what’s to stop you from making a skedaddle right out of here on the first train?” In a stern, no-nonsense manner, he added, “I gotta hold you so the sheriff can get to the bottom of this.”
The back door banged shut and Mrs. Ledbetter hurried into the hall from the back way. “Chester. I thought I heard you jawing about something in here.” She removed her hat and cape throwing both on the hall-tree. Staring him in the eye, she said, “Did the sheriff catch the bank robbers?”
“Naw. I ain’t heard from him.”
“Then, what are you doing here?”
The deputy’s ears turned red. “It ain’t your concern, Lucille.”
Mrs. Ledbetter moved closer, her expression annoyed but determine. “Course it’s my concern. You are in my house raising a ruckus. Now, explain yourself.”
“Franklin Plunkett is dead. Me and the Smith boy brought him to town and left him with the undertaker over at the livery stable.”
Mrs. Ledbetter gasped. “Land sakes! Not Franklin. I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true enough.” The deputy nodded, his face filled with satisfaction.
“Well. It’s been a shock. But thank you for telling us.” She headed to the kitchen. “You want a cup of coffee while you’re here?”
“No, thank you.” He waved toward Elizabeth. “I came to arrest this suspect.”
Mrs. Ledbetter whirled to face him. “Chester, your turnips don’t go to the end of the row. The start is fine, but the rest is filled with weeds.”
“Now, see here. This culprit saw him last and she has one of them little guns. A derringer,” he said with a sneer. “Exactly like the one that did him in, if I’m not mistaken.”
In an agitated voice, Elizabeth said, “I didn’t kill him. I keep telling you, I only found him. He was already dead.”
“So you say. I figure you are involved.”
“You showing off because the sheriff is still out of town, is all,” Mrs. Ledbetter said. “Get on with you now. For once in your life, show sense.”
His expression turned grim and defiant. “I ain’t showing off. I got my duty. And I’m taking her to jail. Besides, no other suspect is handy. Only this one. She seen him last.”
Mrs. Ledbetter shook her finger in his face. “There’ll be a reckoning when JP gets back.”
“Let her rip then. I got my duty and he can’t say different. I’m a man of the law.” With that, he raised his chin and marched Elizabeth out the door before lifting her into his buggy. Humiliated and filled with dread, she huddled on the seat without gazing around. At least he hadn’t put her in handcuffs. She could hear the rattle of other wagons and horses along the way deepening her dismay. As the buggy approached the jail, she kept her eyes lowered. She didn’t want to view the folks staring at her disgrace.
The hallway to the cells seemed long, stuffy, and dark even on this bright, sunshiny day. The deputy’s heavy tread and the lighter tap of her heels echoed down the corridor, reverberating with condemnation—no chance of a reprieve, no chance of release, no chance of rescue. He stopped before a heavy metal door safeguarding the cellblock and glared at her before inserting the key. The tumbling of the lock almost sent her into a panic. She had to fight the sensation of being trapped. He averted his eyes before shoving the barred door inward.
The heavy metal squeaked as it swung open. The smell of decay mixed with dust permeated the entire section of closed off cells. She turned up her nose. “Ugh, that odor is awful.”
He motioned to a cell on the right waiting for her to enter. She glanced at the small cubicle with a narrow cot and a single, worn blanket—the only accommodations in the place. Gazing at the high window complete with bars, did nothing to set her at peace with her situation. She spied a dead mouse on the floor in the corner. “A dead mouse. I will not go inside that-that hellhole. Not with a dead mouse.”
“You don’t get no say. In you go.”
“No!” she screamed into his ear. “I won’t. I will not. You’ll have to drag me in there. I won’t go quietly either.”
“Danged female. All right, little lady, hold tight then. I’ll get rid of the blamed critter.” The deputy gingerly lifted the dead mouse by its tail and flung it out between the bars on the window. He mocked her with a clumsy bow. “Your quarters is ready, princess.”
Rising her chin, she squared her shoulders and marched inside. When the door clanged shut, darkness hovered over her. Finally she caught a deep breath and collapsed on the narrow bunk against the wall.
Without moving anything except her eyes, she watched the sunlight crawl slowly across the floor to the metal bars of her cell marking the passing hours. Not acceptance, but not with a defiant spirit either, she sat on the cot, despondent, her mind racing. How could she prove her innocence? Daylight succumbed to dusk before transforming into the half-light of night. A full moon cast a dim glow inside her cell.
The deputy’s heavy footsteps shuffled down the hall. In a gruff voice, he said, “Here’s your grub. Come over here and get it or I’ll throw it out.”
With faltering steps, she made her way over to the iron bars and took his offering of food. She had no appetite, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Eating a little of the fried pork and a portion of the potatoes, she sat the tray down on the floor and lay down on the cot. She couldn’t sleep, but her eyes were weary from staring at the ceiling and out the small window. She must have drifted off. A squeak brought her to full wakefulness. The moonlight had traveled halfway across the floor and a shadow creature stretched, its teeth bared, its whiskers twitching, a huge image with a long tail following . . . a nightmare.
Someone screamed. Until her throat began to ache, she had no idea the hysterical sound came from her. The high-pitched noise continued only stopping when the cellblock door opened.
The deputy came running down the hal
l with a lantern, drawing his suspenders over his shoulders. “What are you yammering about?”
“There’s a rat in here. A big, ugly rat.” She shuddered and curled her feet beneath her.
“Ain’t no such thing. After that, don’t tell me you ain’t a panicky female. I suspect you was this hysterical when you done in Plunkett. Now, get some sleep.”
“I can’t sleep knowing that rat can come and go as he pleases.” She softened her tone. Maybe a little guile would work. “Will you kindly plug that hole?”
“Oh, all right,” he grumbled and opened the door to stuff the hole full of twisted paper. “That ought to keep ’em quiet ’til morning and you with it.”
“Thank you.”
She listened to the deputy’s heavy steps rumble down the corridor growing dimmer and dimmer until silence reigned in her cramped cell. Sinking onto the cot again, she hugged her knees to her chest. A spider crept out of a crack in the wall and started a web. The silver glow of the moon sparkled across the strands as the creature worked. Hour after hour, she simply watched the spider spin his silken trap. Aware of the moonlight slowly moving across the floor, finally striking the metal studs on the door before shrinking back to the window, she didn’t sleep this time around. Not even when the black of night faded into the pearl gray of dawn.
A chilled breeze swooped into the barred window adding even more discomfort to the room. Draping the thin blanket around her shoulders, she sank even deeper into despair. She became aware of footfalls echoing down the corridor toward her cell. Not that she wanted breakfast, but what else would bring the deputy back to her cell?
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