Bittersweep

by Wareeze Woodson

  She detected the masculine timber of JP’s voice mixed with the deputy’s. Not quite trusting her ears, she rose from the cot moving closer to the door. Yes, the voice belonged to JP. Relief washed over her, her legs trembled, and the urge to cry overwhelmed her. She blinked back tears and leaned against the cell’s stone wall to keep from falling.

  The heavy metal slab sighed open. JP came striding through the door with the deputy sputtering beside him. A fresh scent of the outdoors followed JP into the cell. To her, he’d never appeared so wonderful, so strong and full of character as he did at this moment.

  “She has no cause for complaint. I treated her decent,” the deputy grumbled. “Besides, you ain’t got any call to be jawing at me. I was doing my duty.”

  JP ignored the deputy and gazed at Elizabeth searching her face. He sent her a half smile of reassurance. “Are you all right?”

  Unable to swallow the large knot in her throat, she nodded.

  With a tightened jaw, JP scowled at the deputy. “For pity’s sake, she isn’t going anywhere. The sheriff won’t take kindly to you locking the new schoolteacher in a cell.”

  The deputy took a belligerent stance with his fists on his hips. “I don’t know she ain’t gonna skip town. Not with the Smith boy claiming he seen her heading out to the Clarke place as pretty as you please.” He lowered his head like a bull about to charge and continued, “No siree. I’m keepin’ her till the sheriff comes back.” He glared at JP. “’Less you got a better idea.”

  JP glared at the deputy until he averted his gaze. “Come, Chester. You know she isn’t a risk. You can’t truly suspect she killed Plunkett either.”

  “The Smith boy seen her, I tell you.”

  Surprised, JP raised his brows. “He didn’t actually see her kill Plunkett, did he?”

  Chester considered the statement for several seconds before he drawled, “Well, naw. He seen her heading that way, though.”

  “I told you I didn’t kill him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “What a ruckus you’ve caused.” JP frowned at the deputy. “No teacher at the schoolhouse. What’s the matter with you? Parents, the schoolboard, and the city council will be upset with you.”

  After an extended, tense pause, as if gathering his thoughts, the deputy offered, “I tell you, I was doing my duty. Still, I reckon I’ll be letting her go if you take charge of her. She can stay at your place what with your aunt being there. That’s the only way I’ll oblige you.”

  JP clenched his teeth and frowned. “I can’t believe you caged her like an animal.” He gathered her to his side with one arm, wiping a bit of dust from her cheek.

  The deputy gulped. “I was only doing my duty. Besides, there ain’t no fancy cells in this jail.” He gave Elizabeth a sickly grin. “I’m right sorry, Miss, if you was uncomfortable. You go with JP here and the sheriff will know where to find you.”

  She couldn’t wait to escape, to breathe fresh air, to view something besides the scene available outside the jailhouse window, and the spider building a web. With JP’s support, she made her way outside breathing deeply of the slightly chilly air. Thankful for his help, she allowed him to lift her into his buckboard. She hoped she’d never see the inside of a jailhouse again. The mere thought put her in a quake. But how could she ever prove her innocence?

  Chapter 19

  Elizabeth leaned against the seat in the buckboard. “I still can’t believe this is happening to me. I didn’t kill anyone.” She sniffed and blinked back the moisture gathering in her eyes.

  “Don’t cry,” JP implored and tried to reassure her. “The entire situation will be cleared up in a few days.” In a bracing tone, he added, “Our first stop is the boardinghouse so you can pack some clothes. Then on to the Rocking H.”

  Although grateful for her deliverance from languishing in jail, Elizabeth still dreaded having to force her presence on the reluctant charity of Maude Honeycutt. “I don’t understand why the deputy insisted I impose on you and your family. It’s not as if I’ll try to leave town. I have a job here, a life, so why?”

  She couldn’t read what lay behind his shuttered expression, but hating the situation as she did, she couldn’t help wondering if he felt the same. The thought knotted her stomach.

  His expression remained controlled as he hesitated and studied her for a moment. “You’re new in town without roots other than your occupation. No family. Not even a proper home. You could jump up and fly away from a boardinghouse without the least trouble.”

  Helpless to combat the rising tide of speculation and mistrust she knew would wash over her, dread shrilled her voice. “But I would never do that.”

  “The deputy doesn’t have any other person on which to place the blame.” He shrugged. “You must admit, you make a convenient target. It’ll only be for a few weeks before the sheriff returns. That shouldn’t be too much of a hardship.” In an upbeat tone, he added, “Besides, you may learn to tolerate Aunt Maude.”

  “But will she learn to tolerate me?”

  “As sweet as you are, I’m certain she will. Don’t take it so hard.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I’m just appalled that the deputy suspects me of such a horrendous deed.”

  “You do have a derringer,” he stated with a great deal of irony. “You told him so. What did you expect?”

  She swallowed to clear her throat, but her tone still shook. “I had no idea Franklin had been shot. I thought someone bashed him on the head and the blood on his shirt came from his wound.”

  “But that’s not what happened.”

  Her heart pounded in her ears, and she swallowed defensively. “Evidently not. I have no idea what happened to Franklin. I know he was jumpy.”

  “Jumpy? What do you mean?”

  “He thought someone had searched his room, but no trace of a thief or whatever could be found in the house.” Brushing her hair off her forehead, she racked her memory. “I witnessed an argument between him and another man at the barn dance. Perhaps he’s the culprit.”

  “You saw him arguing with someone. Can you describe this other man?”

  She drew a deep breath. “When I stepped off the train, I noticed a man standing close to the stationhouse. He remained motionless, merging with the shadows surrounding him, all the while watching everyone. He had straight, black hair to his shoulders, and he wore a buckskin shirt.”

  Gooseflesh traveled up her back to her neck. The picture of her mother wearing a similar costume struck her, stealing her breath for a second.

  “That’s all you remember?”

  His question jerked her back to attention and she added, “He had a tan complexion. I noticed he had very dark eyes, almost black with a decided chill to them.”

  He lifted a skeptical brow. “Is that your imagination at work or is that a firm description of this man?”

  “To the best of my recollection, that is a true picture of the man.” She allowed a deep breath to swish out.

  “Did you tell all of this to the deputy?”

  Glaring at him, she replied, “No. He wasn’t in a listening mood after I admitted I owned a derringer.” She turned her head away, hoping there would be no further questions.

  “I think I met the man you described. As a matter of fact, the same day I rescued you from the tumbled down Clarke house.” From under the brim of his Stetson, he captured her attention with a steady regard.

  She couldn’t read his expression or tell what he was thinking. Did he think the stranger might have been involved in the murder? He didn’t add another comment but turned his attention back to his horses.

  When the buckboard approached the boardinghouse, she noticed Mrs. Ledbetter out in the back hanging up laundry. Elizabeth barely waited until he pulled to a stop before she hurriedly climbed to the ground
without his assistance. She didn’t think she could stand to have his hands on her at the moment. She might fling herself into his arms and bawl her eyes out.

  He held the door for her and continued as if there had been no interruption in the conversation. “You must admit, finding Franklin way out there and you by yourself gave the deputy cause for concern. What were you doing out that way? Surely you weren’t going to the Clarke place, were you? I warned you of the danger.”

  “I know you did.” She grimaced. “Now I regret not listening to your wise counsel. I’m in a heap of trouble because I ignored your wishes.”

  His hat shaded his eyes, but the look he shot at her held annoyance, intense, and probing. “Why, Elizabeth? What is so important about that place?”

  She averted her gaze. She didn’t want him to know the truth about the Clarke homestead and her connection to it. “I was still curious, intrigued by the story of why the house was burned. I didn’t have the opportunity to explore the house to my satisfaction before you ordered me away. I wished I’d listened to you.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “Now, I’m in trouble. What am I going to do?”

  He draped one arm around her shoulders, comforting. “It will work out all right. I’m here to help you. Go pack and give me a yell. I’ll fetch your bags for you.”

  She couldn’t contain her emotions a second longer, and flinging herself against his chest, she sobbed. Thankfully, he didn’t stiffen, but accepted her into his strong arms. For a moment, a sense of coming home engulfed her, and she cried even harder. It had been a long while since she’d felt this safe, and she let out a long, shuddering breath. With each stroke of his heartbeat against her ear, she longed to stay exactly in this position of warmth, of shelter, and of comfort.

  He gently kissed her forehead and wiped her eyes with his handkerchief. When she smiled, he slowly lowered his head and gently kissed her lips. When she responded, he deepened the kiss.

  Nothing but his drugging embrace mattered. She couldn’t get any closer but somehow she wanted to, to become part of him, or for him to become one with her. She circled his neck with her arms and ran her fingers through the back of his hair to where the brim of his hat stopped her exploration.

  The back door slammed and JP ended the kiss. He stepped away and glanced over her shoulder. He doffed his hat. “How do.”

  Mrs. Ledbetter returned his greeting. “I thought I heard your voice. Thank the good Lord you got her out of that mule-stubborn Chester’s custody.” She threw up her hands. “I told Chester you’d be after him, but did he listen. No. He was worse than a bull pawing the ground before charging. Determined. That’s what he was.”

  JP agreed, “You’ve got that right. He dug in his heels. He wanted to hold her until the sheriff got back to town. But he figured it’d be in his best interest to allow me to take charge of her. She is my responsibility now.” He turned Elizabeth toward the stairs. “Go pack. Needless to say, she’s coming out to the Rocking H with me.”

  “Land sakes. That Chester has a lot to answer for, but I expect this is the right answer. You take good care of her.”

  “Naturally.”

  Shortly, Elizabeth appeared at the top of the stairs. JP took two steps at a time and seized her carrying case.

  “Is this all you intend to take?” He shot her a skeptical look. “Most women need a mite more even for a few days much less a week or so.”

  “Surely I won’t need anything else. I don’t want to impose any longer than necessary.”

  He headed down the stairs. “This will do for now. We can always make another trip.”

  When Elizabeth arrived at the bottom of the stairs, her tone sounded shy and bewildered even in her own ears. “Goodbye, Mrs. Ledbetter. I hope I’ll be back soon.”

  Mrs. Ledbetter waved her away. “Not to worry, JP and his family will take good care of you.”

  Elizabeth followed JP out to the buckboard. Once again, she allowed him to help her into the wagon. The left side dipped when he sprung aboard and took up the reins.

  Lost in a cloud of concern, Elizabeth ignored the bright sunlit day, the bumps in the road and the man sitting beside her as best she could. His gracious acceptance of an unexpected guest seemed genuine, but what of Maude Honeycutt? Elizabeth couldn’t imagine a civilized greeting from her, much less a warm welcome. Once again, the sensation of being shut out swamped her.

  After what seemed like hours, the buckboard rolled to a stop at the front of the ranch house. Elizabeth thought of the building as something of a mansion on a plantation instead of a simple dwelling on a ranch. Three stories constituted the center of the house built with layers of stone flanked with two-story wings on both sides, tall white pillars held a balcony stretching across the entire middle section adding grandeur to the structure. Lanterns hung on each side of the massive doors, intimidating and solid, something akin to the owner of the place: JP Honeycutt.

  The scent of several rosebushes across the front of the house reached her with a welcome fragrance. Stepping inside his home was a bit daunting. Her stomach roiled and she swallowed. Whatever comes will come.

  JP turned to her. “I’ll show you to your room so you can settle your belongings. I’ll let the others know we have a guest.”

  She inclined her head, uncomfortable, never more so than at this moment, and followed him. Awkward. He wanted her out of the way while he explained her presence.

  Opening the door to a large, sunlit room, he placed her case on the floor and ushered her inside. “It’s a bit stuffy in here.” Moving across the chamber, he raised the windows allowing a slight breeze to billow the delicate curtains. “This should help.”

  The fragrance of gardenias flowed into the room. She took a deep breath. “Thank you. I appreciate not having to spend another moment in that moldy old jail. The room is perfect.”

  “You are most welcome. Rest, and in a while, I’ll show you around the house.” With that, he departed.

  Elizabeth removed her cloak and surveyed the room. Taking note of the wide four-poster bed with an ivory coverlet, she continued her perusal of the chamber. An oak dresser, complete with a pitcher and bowl on top, a couple of chairs by the hearth and a small table to one side plus a wardrobe in which to store her few belongings brought her back to the heavy door, sturdy with a lock.

  Elizabeth listened to JP walk away, his boot heels rapping against the wooden floor with each step, determined and somewhat hurried. Sinking into a pink flowered chair, she buried her head in her palms.

  How had her life come to such a pass? Finding Franklin’s body had landed her in an unpleasant, even dangerous situation, suspected of murder and shoved into Maude Honeycutt’s house. The actual building may belong to JP and the boys, but the place was Maude’s home. How could Elizabeth cope? There was nothing for it except to bite the bullet and put up with whatever Maude dished out.

  Elizabeth unpacked her few belongings and stripped, washing away the stink of the jailhouse in the tepid water provided. Ugh! She couldn’t stand wearing the clothes a moment longer. She hadn’t brought much, expecting to return to the boardinghouse in a few days at most. Closing her eyes briefly, she hoped the situation would be resolved quickly.

  Choosing a sturdy skirt of heavy brown linen, she paired her selection with a filmy blouse of fine lawn. After dressing, she stared at her pensive image in the mirror. There was no one in the room to listen, but she asked her reflection, “Why me? What did I do to deserve this mess?”

  Chapter 20

  JP strode into the parlor, usually tranquil and relaxing, but at his entrance, the room sparked with tension. Of course, his aunt was already aware of his mission. Her hands, fisted in the embroidery in her lap, and her stiff posture shouted irritation.

  “Aunt Maude, I suppose you’ve heard we have a houseguest.”

  Through tightened lips
, she demanded, “How long?”

  Her shrill, demanding tone annoyed him no end. He wanted his aunt to accept Elizabeth, to welcome her into the flock without this hard edge. Wanting and obtaining were two entirely different things.

  He drew a deep breath. “Don’t be ungracious. Just until the sheriff recovers and can take charge of the murder investigation.”

  “Well,” Maude huffed. “I still don’t like it. Jail is the proper place for criminals.”

  “Aunt Maude, you don’t mean that.” He added a shade of harshness to his words, determined, forceful. “She didn’t kill Plunkett and you know it. I realize this is an inconvenience for you, but I gave my word.”

  “Course you did.” She smiled, but disapproval hovered in her eyes. “That’s exactly what you would do. You’re that kind of man.” Her voice sank to a new level of warning. “Mind you don’t fall for her. She’s trouble and in trouble, of her own making or no, it’s still trouble you don’t need.”

  “Why do you dislike her? That’s not like you.”

  She waved a gesture of dismissal at him. “None of your never mind. I have my reasons. Leave it at that.”

  A charged silence blanketed the room. JP moved closer. Directly in front of her, he stared into her eyes, his challenging and determined as he could make them. In a firm, no nonsense tone he said, “I’m asking her to marry me, and I intend to see she accepts. You’d better make up your mind to that.”

  With a flabbergasted expression, Maude blurted, “You never. Have you lost your senses? Why?”

  “No, Aunt Maude. I realize you don’t care for her, but I find myself longing for her with every waking breath.”

  In a bitter voice, she said, “You’re just like your Uncle Ben, falling for a pretty face.”

  “She’s not just a pretty face,” he stated, determined and resolute in his decision.