by Kit Morgan
Sophie sat in shock, her eyes glued to the sheriff. “What did you say?” came out more steady than she felt.
He reached behind him and pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his denims.
“Now see here!” Fletcher wedged himself between the sheriff and her chair. “What do you mean she’s under arrest? From the sounds of it, she wasn’t even there!”
“So she told you what happened?” Sheriff Diamond asked.
“Er … well, no. But according to ... certain sources, the woman didn’t lay a hand on him.”
“No, she didn’t,” the sheriff agreed. “But she did have him killed.”
“What?!” That brought Sophie out of the chair. Why she did what she did next, she didn’t know, but it made her feel better. She wrapped an arm through Mr. Vander’s and hung on.
“A bundle of letters was found in Munson’s room at the boarding house,” the sheriff volunteered. “According to them, Miss Baxter’s involvement in this matter is quite clear.”
“Letters?” she squeaked. “What letters?”
Sheriff Diamond reached for her, but Fletcher batted his hand away and shoved Sophie behind him. “That doesn’t mean anything!” He quickly glanced over his shoulder at her. “Anyone could have written those letters.”
“Fletcher,” the sheriff said, clearly annoyed. “Stand aside.”
“No.”
“Fletcher, I think you ought to do what Sheriff Diamond says,” Cecil suggested.
Mr. Vander’s eyes darted between his longtime friend and the sheriff. Finally he nodded, but when the sheriff took a step toward Sophie. Mr. Vander grabbed his arm. “No handcuffs.” He turned around. “Don’t worry, I’m going with you.”
Sheriff Diamond gave him another stern look. “I should use these …”
Tears were forming in Sophie’s eyes. Mr. Vander saw them and said, “No, absolutely not. Can’t you see how upset she is?”
Sheriff Diamond looked her up and down. “Doesn’t take much for some women to whip up a few tears. I’d be more careful if I were you, Fletcher.” He reached for Sophie again.
She stared at him in shock. He was big, much taller and broader than Mr. Vander and it was all she could do to stand her ground. She’d never liked big, powerful men, all brawn and no brains. Not that the sheriff was an idiot, but what evidence did he have? “I’d like to see these letters for myself.”
“Indeed you will,” said Sheriff Diamond. “If you’ll come along peacefully …” He glared at Mr. Vander. “… I won’t use these. Though technically I should.”
“What you should do is use some sense!” Betsy huffed. “Coming in here and arresting this poor child, and for what? Getting off the train? She’d never even met Jasper Munson!”
“Maybe she has, maybe she hasn’t,” Sheriff Diamond said. “My job is to find out.”
“Don’t you worry none,” Betsy told her. “Once the mayor hears about this, he’ll set things right. He can get you a good lawyer.”
“She’s already got a good lawyer,” Mr. Vander put in. “Me.”
“You can’t be her lawyer,” the sheriff said. “You don’t even live here. Your father will have to take it on if things come to that.”
Sophie tried not to whimper in dismay, but one escaped nonetheless.
That seemed to light a fire under Mr. Vander. “Sheriff, I am licensed to practice law in the state of Oregon – all of it, including Independence. I am quite capable of serving in Miss Baxter’s defense, and unless she prefers another attorney, I shall. I shall also accompany her to your office, so unless you consider her an immediate flight risk and think she can overpower both of us, please stop waving those blasted handcuffs around – you’ll put someone’s eye out.”
Sheriff Diamond rolled his eyes and sighed theatrically. “No need to make this difficult, Fletch.” But he put the cuffs away. “Can we go now?”
“Yes. But rest assured, I’ll do what I have to in order to take care of this woman.”
The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean represent?”
“Do you want to argue semantics, or can we get this over with?” He looked at Sophie.
She had to admit, it was nice to have someone on her side. Yes, she didn’t know this man, having only met him … what, a couple of hours ago? Heavens, what time was it? She’d drifted off and had no idea how long she’d slept. She just hoped she wasn’t cutting off the circulation to his arm, the way she was hanging on.
“Shall I tell your father where you are, Fletcher?” Betsy asked as they left the parlor.
“Yes,” he said. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“Don’t be so confident,” the sheriff argued. “You haven’t seen the evidence yet.”
“We shouldn’t have heard about it from you,” Cecil pointed out.
Betsy smacked him on the arm. “This ain’t a big city, Cecil, this is just Independence. Sheriff Diamond can say what he wants. Besides, it’ll be all over town by morning regardless.”
“Morning?!” Sophie wailed, and put a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. She hadn’t been in town even half a day, and already she’d be known as a murderess by everyone there. And she thought she was stuck before. The only bright side to her predicament was that if she was locked up, she’d have a place to sleep tonight and a meal.
Mr. Vander patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Miss Baxter, I’ll have this whole mess straightened out by suppertime.”
“Fletcher,” the sheriff warned. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Mr. Vander glared back. “I didn’t say ‘promise’. But I will say this is preposterous. Miss Baxter can’t be guilty of such a crime and I aim to prove it.”
“Be my guest,” Sheriff Diamond swept a hand toward the door to the front walk.
Mr. Vander gave the sheriff a nod. At least the lawman was letting them precede him out of the house, and hopefully all the way to the sheriff’s office. Sophie breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that at least she wouldn’t look like some criminal being dragged to a jail cell.
She still couldn’t believe this Sheriff Diamond thought she’d be guilty of such a crime. She’d let Fletcher … Mr. Vander take a look at those letters and see what he thought. She’d only written Jasper Munson three or four times, and certainly nothing that would indicate she’d hire someone to kill him. That was what Sheriff Diamond was accusing her of, wasn’t it?
They reached the sheriff’s office without incident, and without talking to anyone. A few folks passed them in the street, tipped their hats and went about their business. If they did know who she was, they probably thought she was heading to the office to make a statement or answer questions. Why else would she be escorted there by a lawyer?
Several more folks waved and shouted greetings to her escort, asking if he was back in town for good. She hoped he was. He had a calming effect on her she couldn’t explain and didn’t want to stop. The thought made her wonder how long he planned to visit.
But by the time she thought to ask, they’d reached their destination. Sheriff Diamond opened the door and waved Sophie and Mr. Vander inside. “Have a seat, folks.”
She went to the same chair she’d occupied before and quietly sat. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“Let me see those letters,” Mr. Vander said.
“I shouldn’t let you see anything,” the sheriff said.
“Come on, Jace, it’s just like Betsy said. This is Independence, not Portland or Seattle. The most criminal action you ever get around here is when the Edmonsons’ turkeys get out, wander into town and scare people.”
Sophie felt a glimmer of hope at the jab. Was it a jab? Good grief, maybe it was true! If belligerent turkeys were all this brute ever dealt with, what would he know of something as serious as this?
“I know being the sheriff around here isn’t exactly like my Texas Ranger days, Fletch, but I also know the law and try to respect it.”
Sophie sighed. So much for the man being a hic
k country sheriff. Texas Rangers weren’t men to be trifled with, not even former ones.
“True, but we’ve known each other since we were boys and you know I have a sense about these things.”
Hmmm, that sounded hopeful, she thought.
Sheriff Diamond, hands on hips, sighed. “They’re in my desk.”
Mr. Vander went around the desk, opened the top drawer and pulled out a small bundle of letters tied with string. He brought them to Sophie. “Did you write these?”
She looked at the first letter in the pile. “The handwriting looks like mine,” she said, then swallowed hard. “But I only exchanged a few letters with Mr. Munson. What are the others?”
Mr. Vander untied the string and set it on the desk. “There are … eight, nine, ten letters here. You sure you didn’t miscount?”
“I know how many letters we exchanged, Fletch … um, Mr. Vander. Three, four at most.”
He leafed through the pile. “What about this one?” he asked and showed it to her.
“Again, that looks like my handwriting.”
He opened the envelope and pulled the letter out. “Dear Mr. Munson,” he read. “My name is Sophie Baxter and I live just outside Denver, Colorado. I’ve enlisted the help of the Pettigrew Bridal Agency and was presented with your request for a mail-order bride. After perusing your application and what you seek in a bride, I think we would suit.” He looked at her expectantly. “Did you write that?”
“Yes, I did.”
He glanced at the sheriff. “No murderous threats here, Jace.”
Sheriff Diamond crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the desk. “Read on.”
Mr. Vander raised an eyebrow and flipped through the pile again. He pulled out another, took it out of its envelope and read; “Jasper, you will pay and pay in full, or the deal is off.” His eyebrows rose ever so slightly. He cleared his throat. “Have the money delivered by the time I reach Oregon, or you’ll be dead before I so much as set foot in Independence …” He trailed off, his mouth half-open in shock, and flipped the letter over so she could see it. “Is this your handwriting, Miss Baxter?”
Her eyes locked with his as her heart began to race. She unconsciously wiped her hands on the skirt of her day dress and looked at the missive held out to her. “Oh dear Lord.”
Mr. Vander stiffened. “Well?”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I don’t understand! I never wrote him such a letter. I swear!”
Mr. Vander gave her such a look of compassion that she wanted to die. Of course, if he couldn’t prove her innocent, that might be the case anyway. “Is this or is this not your handwriting?”
“It can’t be,” she said shakily. “But it does looks like mine.”
The sheriff sighed. “Can I arrest her now?”
“Jace, is this really necessary?” Fletcher asked as he closed the cell door with a decisive clank. Miss Baxter trembled as she stared at them through the bars. Tears formed in her eyes and he could tell it was all she could do to keep from crying.
“I’m sorry, Fletch, but what this gal wrote in those letters makes things pretty clear. This was premeditated murder. What am I supposed to do?”
“But I never wrote them!” Miss Baxter cried. “Why don’t you listen to me?”
“Easy, Miss Baxter,” Fletcher soothed. “Let me handle this.” He motioned Jace to the front office. Once there he closed the door to the cell area and took a deep breath. “She didn’t do it. She couldn’t have.”
“Why couldn’t she have?”
“Don’t you see? It doesn’t make sense. If she did indeed threaten Munson and hire someone to kill him, why would she travel all the way here and run the risk of getting arrested? What idiot would do such a thing? Where did you find those letters, anyway?”
“In Munson’s room at Mrs. Bee’s.”
“I know that. Where in his room?”
“They were sitting on top of the dresser.”
“Out in the open?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“How many men like Jasper Munson leave letters out in the open?”
“What do you mean, men like …” Jace’s eyes widened. “That’s right. Jasper couldn’t read.”
“Exactly. So unless someone was coming in and reading them to him every day, why have them out like that?”
“Well, maybe Mrs. Bee did …,” Jace mused. But he didn’t sound convinced.
“And Miss Baxter’s handwriting could have been forged. Things like that have been done before.”
Jace stared at him a moment. “But why make this girl a scapegoat? Why would one be needed?”
“I don’t know. But to me it looks like someone wanted Jasper Munson dead and used his mail-order bride to cover his tracks, or at least buy themselves some time.”
Jace rubbed his hand over his face a few times. “That doesn’t make sense either. Jasper didn’t have much, didn’t need much. He was a simple sort, what I knew of him.”
“What you knew of him,” Fletcher repeated as he walked to the other side of the room and back. “Cecil told me he hadn’t been in town long.”
“No, not long – he took over the smithy at the end of March. Folks in town were just getting to know him. Fine blacksmith – had him take care of my horse’s shoes a few times. Quiet sort, from what little I knew of him.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid that’s about all I can tell you.”
“Was he a drinking man? A gambler?”
“Not sure. You know we don’t have much of a saloon here. Folks wanting to drink and gamble usually take the train to Salem.”
Fletcher nodded. Independence was a quaint, quiet little town, with little to offer in the way of dodgy entertainment. “Mind if I nose around?”
“That’s my job.”
“Mine too.”
“True enough. I’m sure Miss Baxter’ll appreciate that. But that still leaves me with a murder to solve.”
“It leaves us with a murder to solve. And once the real murderer finds out their plan to frame Miss Baxter didn’t work, if they’re still around, they may try to harm her.”
Jace thought about that. “Because we started nosing around?”
Fletcher smiled at his use of “we.” “Precisely.”
Jace nodded. “But I thought you were just visiting your kin. You coming back to stay?”
Fletcher shrugged. “We’ll see. So how about the two of us see if we can’t figure this thing out? I’m more than happy to help.”
Jace’s brow puckered in response. “A little more than happy to, I’d say.” He sighed and looked at the door leading to the jail cells. “She can’t leave town.”
“Of course not. As I said, I don’t think she’s a flight risk. Being a mail-order bride, she might not have the resources to go anywhere.”
“Nonetheless, will you take responsibility for her?”
“Absolutely,” Fletcher said with a smile.
“I’m not going to regret this, am I?” Jace asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Not at all. Now can she go?”
“You’re a piece of work, Fletch. But then, folks say the same about me, so …” Jace got up and went into the back room, Fletcher on his heels.
When he slipped the key into the cell door’s lock, Miss Baxter looked up, her eyes red from crying and jumped to her feet. “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” Fletcher asked with a wide smile. “He’s letting you go.”
She swallowed hard. “Go? Now?”
“If that’s all right with you,” Jace said with a bemused look.
“Oh … yes, of course.”
“I’ll take you down to Mrs. Bee’s straightaway and get you settled,” Fletcher said. “You’ll have to stay in town for now, of course.”
“Of course?” she said, her eyes growing wider. “But I can’t even afford a room there – I don’t have a cent.”
Fletcher looked at Jace as if to say, told you so. “Don’t worry, I’ll cover your expen
ses for the duration. I have the means.” Thankfully, the final check from Woolley, Holmes & Shunk had been substantial – and he’d cashed it immediately, lest he risk it bouncing.
Miss Baxter still hesitated. “But how long will that be?”
Jace shrugged. “Not sure, but I’ll let you know.”
She took a few steps back as her eyes closed. Great Scott, was she going to faint? Fletcher jumped past Jace and into the cell just in time to catch her fall. “Miss Baxter!” He scooped her up and laid her on the cot. “Get some water.”
Jace shook his head and went to the front office as he mumbled, “Women.”
Fletcher ignored him and fanned Miss Baxter with his hand. Several locks of her hair had come loose from their pins and lay across her face. Fletcher gently brushed them away and his heart swelled. Now that was odd …
“Here’s your water,” Jace said as he returned and handed him a glass.
Fletcher took his handkerchief out of his pocket, poured some water on it and dabbed her forehead and cheeks. “Miss Baxter, can you hear me?”
Her eyes fluttered open. “What happened? Did I … did I faint?”
Fletcher smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid you did. Are you able to sit up?”
She tried, but didn’t get very far. “I don’t feel too well.”
Fletcher put a hand behind her shoulder and pulled her up to a sitting position. “Here, take a sip.” He handed her the glass.
She took a few sips and gave it back. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know …”
“Understandable, all things considered,” Fletcher said. “As soon as you’re able, I’ll escort you to Mrs. Bee’s.”
“Oh, that.” She swayed. “But I don’t have the money for …”
“I told you, it’s covered,” Fletcher said as he grabbed her shoulder to steady her.
She looked into his eyes, then put a hand to her mouth as if to stifle a sob. For all he knew, that’s exactly what she was doing. “I was expecting to get married today. And then … and then …” Her mouth kept moving, but without a sound.
Fletcher shivered, then glanced at Jace. “I’m responsible for her, eh?”
Jace nodded. “You said you would be.”
He nodded back. “Then never mind the boarding house – she needs more care than that. Miss Baxter? If it’s all right with you, you’re coming home with me.”
