by Kit Morgan
“Jace, we started this together – we’ll finish it that way.”
“If you insist, Fletch. But the truth is, something’s not right with this. There’s something important we’re missing. And personally, I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind to go any further on this.”
“What?” Fletcher snapped.
Jace held up his hands. “Don’t get upset. I’m just trying to work with your strengths. Right now you’re focus is on Miss Baxter. I’m only suggesting it stay there. I may have to go out of town, talk to folks that knew Jasper before he came to Independence.”
“So we’re back to the theory that someone from his past did it?”
“I think it’s all we have left at this point unless we turn up something at the boarding house. And we’ve searched that room three times already.”
“That’s true,” Fletcher conceded. “Very well – you do what you have to, and I’ll take care of Sophie.”
“Protect her, you mean?” he said with a wink.
Fletcher quickly glanced at Sophie, who was speaking with his mother on the other side of the church. “Yes.”
Jace slapped him on the back. “Good man. Why don’t you think about proposing on the Fourth of July?”
Fletcher looked at her again and smiled. “Maybe.”
Chapter 17
“I just don’t understand it,” Fletcher grumbled as he and Jace searched Jasper’s old room at the boarding house – again. “There has to be something here.”
“I think we’ve found all we can here. I’ll have to do some traveling to find anything else.”
Fletcher scratched his head. “I guess you’re right. Don’t forget Jasper’s first name was Edgar – Edgar Jasper Munson. Don’t know why he went by Jasper …”
“Lots of folks go by their middle names.” Jace studied the floor. “Let’s head to the livery stable – maybe we’ll have better luck there.”
“All right, but I have to agree with your going out of town to look for answers. There sure aren’t any turning up here.”
“Seems the best chance we’ve got. Jasper could’ve done any number of things before he came to Independence – cheated, lied, stolen, had a fling with another man’s wife. Anything’s possible.”
“So a jealous husband tracks him down, discovers he sent for a mail-order bride and kills Jasper on the train platform while he’s waiting for her?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“I suppose. But it doesn’t explain the forged letters threatening Jasper’s life.”
“No, it doesn’t. That’s the really strange part.” Jace crossed the room to the window, pushed the lace curtains aside and looked out. “Hmmm. Did you know you can see the train depot from here?”
Fletcher joined him at the window. The boarding house was on a corner, and this side had a perfect view of the depot a couple of blocks away. “I don’t see how that’s relevant, even for someone to plant those phony letters. Jasper would’ve been gone for a while just to go meet the train and wait for Sophie. They’d have had plenty of time to do it.”
“True,” Jace said. “Still, someone may have needed to watch for his return, depending on how much time they had to work with.”
“Could be.” Fletcher stepped away from the window. “I’m going to take your advice and ask Sophie to marry me at the Fourth of July celebration.”
“Do it when the fireworks are going off. No one will notice when you kiss her.”
Fletcher laughed at first, then quickly stilled. Kissing her was almost all he thought about some days. He’d started dreaming at night about children at Christmas time, Sophie baking, the two of them wrapping presents for the little ones …
“What’s the matter?” Jace asked with a sly grin.
“Nothing.” He stuck his hands into his pockets.
“Are you two done in there?” Mrs. Bee called from down the hall.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jace replied.
She entered the room. “Good. I’ll let Mr. Cord know he can move his things in here just as soon as I give it another once-over.”
“Another?” Jace said darkly. “Mrs. Bee, I’ve told you to leave this room alone.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Now see here, Sheriff, I’ve had just about enough of this. I can’t stand a dusty room! What will my other guests think when they walk by? That I don’t keep a clean house, that’s what!”
Fletcher stepped forward. “Mrs. Bee, we appreciate your efforts to run a boarding house with the utmost efficiency. But by doing so in this case, you’re potentially impeding a police investigation. If you were dealing with a big-city police department, they’d run you in for contempt of court.”
That pulled Mrs. Bee up short. “Well, I … er … really?”
Jace decided to step in before she had a heart attack. “Well, it’s not like my office is equipped with the materials for fingerprinting. You haven’t done any harm, other than ignore my requests as sheriff.” He gave her a pointed look, though.
She fidgeted under his scrutiny. “Well, I’ll go tell Mr. Cord.” She did an about-face and scurried back down the hall.
Fletcher watched her go and shook his head. “Sorry if I overstepped my bounds. She’s a good sort, I hear, but a little obsessive – and stubborn as a mule.”
“It’s how she survived all this time. But yeah, I wish she’d listened to my instructions. I hope she didn’t wipe or dust away any evidence.”
“Can’t dust away what isn’t here.” Fletcher slapped him on the back. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend some more time protecting Miss Baxter.”
“I thought she was working tonight.”
“She is. So I’ll go down to the café for some coffee and pie.”
Jace half-smiled, and they left the room, strolled down the hall and stairs and out of the house.
As soon as they were gone, Sebastian crept out of his room. He’d kept his door cracked, listening as best he could to their conversation. “Forged letters,” he said to himself. He’d heard talk of letters, but hadn’t known they’d been forged. He knew he should’ve had more dinners at the boarding house. But each guest had their own version of what happened, and he thought he’d find out more by poking around town – the local gossips were usually more reliable. They, after all, had lived there much longer than the folks at the boarding house.
When he saw his chance, he’d examined the room at the end of the hall one day while everyone was out, but found nothing. He’d even checked the floorboards to see if Jasper had hidden the “package” beneath them – no luck. There was nothing at the livery stable either. He wished the sheriff and lawyer luck when they went to search it again.
He returned to his room and closed the door. Mrs. Bee would come bang on it soon to let him know he could have Jasper’s old room. She, of course, wanted the money it would bring her. But the only reason he’d wanted it in the first place was to search it. Maybe he should follow the sheriff when he left town to look for clues …
A sudden rapping on the door announced Mrs. Bee. “Hang on!” he called. He could tell her he didn’t want it now. It cost a dollar more a week than the one he had, and he didn’t want to spend money if he didn’t need to.
Sebastian opened the door. “Yes, Mrs. Bee?”
“The room is available. I just need to tidy it up first, but thought I’d let you know.”
Sebastian smiled. “Thank you, but I think I’m fine in this one after all.”
She took a step back. “What? Your fiancée told me you felt cramped here.”
“Miss Holbrook? When did you speak with her?”
“A few days ago. She said this room didn’t suit you at all.”
“Oh, she did?” But considering why he wanted the room in the first place, of course she would. “Well, she does worry about me. But no, I think I’m fine where I am.”
“I went through all this trouble to get rid of that sheriff and Fletcher Vander for nothing? Well, the nerve!”
Mrs. Bee could be fussy and uppity, and he could tell she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “All right, fine, fine – I’ll take it.”
“Well, I should hope so after all the trouble I went through for you to get it. If you don’t mind, I’ll get to work. You can stay in it tonight.” She stepped back, picked up a bucket of cleaning supplies and headed down the hall.
Sebastian closed the door and shook his head. He’d never seen anyone so finicky about their establishment. With a sigh, he turned to his bed, under which he kept his satchel. Best he pack up his things and be ready to go when she was done. After that, he’d head over to Priscilla’s house for dinner. He hoped they served mashed potatoes tonight. He was getting pretty tired of corn on the cob.
July 4th, 1898
Sophie fiddled with the lace of her white blouse. Betsy had found more of Ammy’s clothes and given her the blouse and a pretty green skirt to wear. It fit perfectly and she wished she could keep it, but she’d have to be satisfied with borrowing it for the day.
She set off for the park with a picnic basket on her arm and a handful of white hydrangeas. What few tables were in the eating area had been decorated with vases of wildflowers – except the mayor’s. They’d run out of flowers, Betsy said, so she’d picked some hydrangeas from the backyard.
She arrived at the park and went to the gazebo in the center to wait for Fletcher. Musicians belonging to the town’s community band started to gather and place chairs in the space to play. Chairs for the audience were already set up around the gazebo itself. She watched them a moment, felt she might get in the way, and moved to a chair in the first row.
So far the day was pleasant – a bright blue sky, wispy white clouds and plenty of warm sunshine. Betsy said she’d been lucky so far during her stay – Oregon was famous for its rain, and summer storms could blow in without warning. She certainly hoped that wasn’t the case today – she’d been looking forward to it, and especially to spending it with Fletcher. Most of the businesses were closed, including the café, which gave Darcy and her the day off.
“There you are,” Fletcher said as he sat next to her. “Right on time.”
“You’re late.”
Fletcher took on a shocked look. “Never!” He noticed the flowers in her hand. “What are those for? Haven’t you had enough flowers?”
“They’re for the mayor’s table. I was waiting for you before I put them there. I didn’t want you to think I was late.”
He smiled playfully, stood and picked up the basket. “I’ll carry that.”
She got up as well and took his offered arm with a smile. Together they walked to the eating area, where she went to the head table and put the hydrangeas in a vase in the middle. “There. Now the decorating is complete.”
Fletcher smiled and tipped his straw boater.
She studied him, admiration in her eyes. He looked handsome in his wheat-colored linen suit, white dress shirt, four-in-hand cream-colored tie and black boots. She hoped he had a blanket tucked away somewhere for them to sit on. She’d hate to see him get grass stains on that suit.
“You look lovely, you know that?” he said softly.
Sophie automatically leaned toward him. He still hadn’t kissed her again, and she often wondered over the last several days when he would. “Thank you. I’m afraid there isn’t a blanket in that basket you’re holding. Did you bring one?”
“Mother and Father are bringing them – we’ll need them for the fireworks later.” He glanced around. More people were arriving and the tables were filling up. Women began to lay out food at one end of the picnic area as children played.
Sophie took everything in and sighed with contentment.
“Happy?” Fletcher asked, a hand on her shoulder.
“Very.” She looked up at him. “You?”
“Very much so.” He smiled at her. His eyes darted to her mouth, and he quickly looked away. He wanted to kiss her, she could tell, and the feeling was mutual. But caution was necessary after the last time. Thankfully, they were in a public place, so there wouldn’t be much chance. Not that a stolen peck on the cheek would cause a stir, but she knew what they were capable of …
“Look, there’s Gran and Grandpa.” He waved at them.
Sophie watched the elderly couple work their way across the grass and maneuver around the tables. “Well, hello there!” his grandmother called with a happy smile. “Where are your parents, dear? We want to be sure we all sit together.”
“Of course you will,” said Fletcher. “The mayor’s table is all ready, Gran.”
She glanced around, spied their table and giggled. “Oh, so it is. I’ll just go set my things on it.”
Grandpa Vander watched her go, then saw the growing crowd. “Well, my boy?” He smacked him on the back. “This will be my last Fourth of July speech as mayor.”
“And I’m sure it will be a doozy, Grandpa,” Fletcher said.
Grandpa Vander cleared his throat. “You’ll take good care of the town, won’t you, my boy?”
“Of course, Grandpa, you know I will. Keep in mind, though, I haven’t won yet.”
“You’re still the only candidate, son – I like your chances.” Grandpa Vander grabbed Fletcher in a bear hug. Fletcher grunted in response and hugged him back.
Sophie smiled at the two men, a tear in her eye as she realized she wanted this day to go on forever. She was surrounded by a wonderful family, one she’d like to call her own one day. Sometime during the search for wildflowers and the filling of vases to decorate the tables, she decided she wanted to marry Fletcher Vander. Now, he just needed to ask.
“Sebastian, I must introduce you to our illustrious mayor,” Priscilla Holbrook cooed as they joined them.
Sophie tried not to sigh with annoyance. The day was lovely so far – she hoped Priscilla didn’t say anything to ruin it.
“Mayor Vander, may I introduce you to my fiancé Sebastian Cord? We’re getting married soon.”
Grandpa Vander let go of Fletcher and turned to face the newcomers. “Miss Holbrook – Mercy said you were back in town. Congratulations to the both of you.” He took Sebastian’s hand and gave it a vigorous shake. “So tell me, young man, what business are you in?”
Sebastian’s eyes flashed with something Sophie didn’t recognize. Was Grandpa Vander making him nervous? “Er … acquisitions. Finance.”
Now Sophie was confused. She’d heard he sold barbed wire – what was this about finance?
“You work in a bank?” Fletcher asked.
“Sebastian’s a wizard when it comes to money and numbers,” Priscilla interjected, snaking an arm through her fiancé’s. “Why, he’s just loaded …”
Sebastian gave her ankle a little kick.
“… er, with good ideas on how to make money,” she blurted.
Fletcher raised an eyebrow and was about to comment when his grandmother flitted over. “Fletch, would you mind helping Betsy? Cecil brought over those heavy baskets of food and I don’t want her lifting them.”
“Sure, Gran.” He turned to Sophie. “I won’t be a moment. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Don’t worry, Fletch – Sebastian and I will keep her entertained while you’re gone,” Priscilla said with a wide smile.
Please don’t, Sophie thought. Priscilla was the last person she wanted to get into a conversation with. But it looked like she didn’t have a choice unless she chased after Fletcher, and he’d already bounded off to do his grandmother’s bidding. Oh well …
“There goes your fussy landlord,” Priscilla remarked to her betrothed.
Sebastian shuddered. “The sooner we’re married the better. She’s about to drive me mad.”
Sophie saw Mrs. Bee heading straight for the food tables, a stranger on her heels. “Who’s that with her?”
“My competition,” Sebastian said. “I’m a salesman by trade and so is he. Though I’m not sure what all he sells. Definitely barbed wire, among other things. I think he’s sweet on Mrs
. Bee.”
“Sebastian used to sell barbed wire and farm-related items,” Priscilla volunteered, “but he’s recently gone into, ah, finance.” Sebastian glared at her.
Sophie watched Mrs. Bee unpack food from a basket and put it next to the other bowls and platters on the table. “What’s wrong with Mrs. Bee having a beau? Everyone deserves to be happy.”
“I suppose,” Priscilla agreed. “I think she wanted him in that room next door to her because he doesn’t snore – like someone I know …”
“Priscilla, will you hold your tongue?” Sebastian scolded.
“He always gets touchy when I tell people about his snoring, or mention anything untoward,” she said with a conspiratorial wink. “But he gave me fair warning and told me all about his beastly habit just the other day. Now as to Mrs. Bee and her suitor, I really couldn’t say.”
“You couldn’t say? That’s a first,” he grumbled.
Priscilla ignored him, still watching Mrs. Bee and the stranger. “He does seem rather attentive, doesn’t he? No wonder she was so delighted when I told her you wanted the bigger room.”
Sebastian studied the older couple. “She did, did she?” Sophie watched his eyes narrow. “Exactly how delighted was she?”
“She giggled and smiled a lot,” Priscilla said.
“Did she happen to say how often he comes?”
“Maybe, I don’t remember. Why?”
“Come with me.” He tipped his hat to Sophie and pulled Priscilla toward the food tables.
She stared after them, pondering their odd conversation. So what if Mrs. Bee had a beau? Why should Priscilla’s betrothed care? Shaking her head, she pushed the thought aside and went to see if she could help Fletcher.
Chapter 18
The day rolled along, and Sophie couldn’t be happier. She’d paid special attention to Fletcher’s actions over the last week, listening to everything he had to say. He shared his plans for the town and how his grandfather, despite all his bluster, was a wise and savvy businessman. He knew how to inspire people, and Fletcher hoped he could live up to his legacy. Independence had its problems like any other small town, but they weren’t anything Fletcher, with his grandfather’s occasional guidance, couldn’t handle.
