by Kit Morgan
“Don’t bother talking to him!” Priscilla spat. “He’s not worth it!” That was all she could manage before Mr. Hilton gagged her.
Sebastian and Priscilla had spilled the whole story while they continued to argue with each other and Mrs. Bee. It turned out that Sebastian’s treasure was a set of printing plates for making counterfeit five-dollar notes. He’d duped an unsuspecting Jasper into delivering them to a third party, but Mrs. Bee had overheard their plot and figured she and Mr. Hilton could profit from it. They’d planned to wait for Sebastian to give the plates to Jasper, find out where they were and take them.
To do that, they had to get close to the blacksmith, so Mrs. Bee befriended him and offered to write his letters to Sophie. In doing so she was able, through their conversations, to deduce where Jasper had hidden the plates. But Jasper, while illiterate, wasn’t as dumb as everyone had thought. He’d already started to figure out that Sebastian wasn’t on the up-and-up, and told Mrs. Bee he’d take the “package” Sebastian gave him for safe keeping to Sheriff Diamond.
That’s when Mrs. Bee took matters into her own hands, penned some fake letters from Sophie to Jasper the night before Sophie’s arrival, then killed Jasper the next day. The fake letters were to keep the sheriff busy until Mr. Hilton (who was wanted for forgery in six states, and had been teaching Mrs. Bee his trade) showed up. He in turn was late in coming back as he had to take care of a little matter himself before they could be together and run off with the plates – namely, dispose of poor Mrs. Hilton.
The latest twist was that, in the short time it took the villains to march them down the hall, get some chairs and tie Priscilla and Sophie into them, Sebastian had talked Mr. Hilton into partnering with him to sell the plates to another prospective buyer. This meant that they’d have to get out of town fast, as the last interested party still wasn’t happy they didn’t get their delivery and would come looking for Sebastian. And they had to get rid of the two witnesses, Sophie and Priscilla. So how could they accomplish both without leaving a trail?
Mrs. Bee had come up with a solution.
She entered the room now, a satisfied look on her face. “Everything’s ready. As soon as those fireworks start, we’ll get underway.”
Priscilla glared at Sebastian over the gag and mumbled something. To Sophie, it sounded like “I’m going to kill you,” but she didn’t see how Priscilla could manage it while trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. “Why are you doing this?” Sophie asked him as he stared at Priscilla. He was fighting with himself, she could tell, which mean they might have a chance. “I thought you loved her!”
“I love money more,” he stated.
Sophie closed her eyes and tried to think. “And you.” She narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Bee. “People trusted you!”
“Not my problem,” Mrs. Bee said with a laugh. “You try to live like this, work your fingers to the bone day in and day out! But no more! Charles is going to give me a good life. I’ll have more money than I know what to do with!”
Priscilla rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Phats mhat mhi phaut.”
“Exactly,” Sophie said, glaring at Sebastian. “That’s what she thought. She loved you, trusted you, and now look what you’re doing!” Her head snapped to Mrs. Bee. “Do you really think that man of yours is going to take care of you? I bet his wife thought that too. And look how easily this one turned on Priscilla!”
Mrs. Bee glanced at Mr. Hilton. “Shut her up.”
Mr. Hilton quickly complied, gagging Sophie just as the first “boom” of the fireworks was heard. “Perfect. Now we can leave.”
Sebastian looked confused. “But what if someone finds them?”
“They won’t,” Mrs. Bee said. “Trust me, there won’t be anything left by the time anyone gets here.”
Sebastian glanced at Priscilla. “Why’s that?”
The woman smiled. “Because of the fire, that’s why. I’ve always told Mayor Vander they should be more careful with those fireworks, or one of these days a house would catch and burn to the ground.”
Sophie and Priscilla both screamed into their gags at the same time and began to struggle in their bonds.
“I like the way you think,” Mr. Hilton said. “Best we set fire in multiple rooms. The place will burn up quicker.” He walked out.
“My thoughts exactly,” Mrs. Bee agreed, turning to leave the room. “Mr. Cord, are you coming?”
He took one last look at the women, spun on his heel and followed after them.
Priscilla cursed into her gag, then started to cry. Sophie could feel the other woman’s body heave with her sobs, but she was in too much shock to cry. Yes, their circumstances were grim. They were about to die. But oddly enough, her prevailing thought wasn’t her own death, but how easily Sebastian had betrayed poor Priscilla. And for what? She’d offered him a decent life, and he turned it down because of greed. And here she’d been worried about Fletcher’s character …
She heard a crash, the sound of shattering glass from down the hall. A moment later Sebastian entered the room, a lantern in his hand. He lit it, took one last look at Priscilla and with a look of anguish, threw it against the wall near the window curtains.
Fletcher stopped short as he heard the first round of fireworks go off. He turned in the middle of the street and gazed up at the night sky, suddenly lit up with red, white and blue. Drat – Sophie was missing it! He turned on his heel and continued toward the boarding house, wishing Jace Diamond were here. Just his luck that the sheriff was off in Salem, digging into Jasper Munson’s past.
Another big boom, and the sky above him once again lit up. This time when he looked up, he saw green. Drat, drat, drat. Then another light caught his eye, not above him but ahead, on the other side of some buildings. An orange light …
“Great Scott!” He broke into a run, realizing it could only be one thing – a fire. Judging from the light, it had to be on Smith Street, and instinctively he knew it must be Mrs. Bee’s boarding house on the corner of Smith and Second. He started to sprint, rounded a corner onto Smith … and sure enough, he was right. “No!” He tried not to panic at the sight – for all he knew, no one was inside. But his gut told him otherwise.
When he reached the house, most of the smoke seemed to be coming from the back – the fire must have been started by the cookstove, he surmised. But then he noticed flames licking up the curtains of a second-story window. How could a fire at the back of the house also be in the front? Unless … “Sophie!” he shouted as he rushed to the front door.
He opened it without thinking, but the billow of smoke he expected along with the blast of heat didn’t come. However, he could see the dining room quickly filling up with it. He raced in, calling Sophie’s name. The door to the kitchen was closed – a good thing, as it would slow the fire’s spread. He went to open the door, felt the heat from the wood and took out a handkerchief before touching the handle.
Then he heard a thump, thump, thump coming from upstairs, and forgot all about the kitchen. “Sophie?” He turned and rushed for the stairs, taking them two at a time.
When he reached the landing, all the doors were closed. Which one had the noise come from? His eyes fixed on the door at the end of the hall, and remembered Jace’s comment about being able to see the train depot from there. It was at the back of the house. He ran for it.
When he opened the door, smoke was pouring from a floor grate, which made sense – it was right above the kitchen. Sophie and Priscilla Holbrook were on their side, trussed up back-to-back in chairs. They must have heard him and made themselves fall over to get his attention.
He raced in and bent over them. “Sophie! Priscilla!” He didn’t wait for a response, but grabbed the chairs where they met and started to drag them toward the door. He heard a muffled cry from one of them as he faltered and dropped them, but he picked them up again and continued his laborious trek.
Once he had them in the hall, he slammed the door to the bedroom shut. There was much less smo
ke in the hallway, but it was filling up fast. He pulled the women’s gags off, and they coughed and sputtered, tears in their eyes. “We have to get out of here,” he said in a rush. But he didn’t know if he could drag them out of the house this way. He had to free them.
“Fletcher …” Sophie rasped.
“I don’t have a knife, I don’t have a knife!” he cried, frantically checking his pockets.
“I do.”
Fletcher turned to see Sebastian Cord running toward them, and braced himself to defend the women. But instead of taking out a knife and attacking, or taking one out and freeing them, he bent down and tilted the chairs upright. “Together!”
Fletcher nodded. It would be quicker to carry them out first and free them after, and the two of them could do it. They each took an end, Fletcher facing Sophie while Sebastian faced Priscilla. They lifted the women and chairs off the floor, headed for the staircase, and it wasn’t long before they had them outside. The men carried them to the middle of the street, smoke billowing out the front door behind them.
By this time, the fire had caught the attention of the townsfolk – Fletcher could tell, because the fireworks had stopped. He heard shouting voices coming up the street, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was that the women were safe. He coughed several times as he tried to loosen the ropes that bound his beloved. Sebastian handed him the promised knife, and he began to saw away.
He’d almost cut through the first set of ropes when his father and Julian Smythe reached them. “Great Scott, son, what happened?”
“Why don’t … cough … you ask that, that …,” Priscilla began.
“Quiet – don’t talk,” Fletcher ordered. He turned to Sebastian, wondering why he hadn’t tried to free Priscilla as he was doing with Sophie, but the man was gone. “What the …?”
“Sebastiaaaaaaaaan!” Priscilla yelled in rage.
The sound of galloping hooves could be heard coming from the other side of one of the buildings, quickly fading as the rider raced out of town.
“Sebastian …” Priscilla sobbed.
Fletcher pulled Sophie free. She fell limp against him and he scooped her up into his arms. “Where’s Doc Stone?”
“Right here!” the doctor said as he made his way through the growing crowd.
“Let’s get this fire out!” Julian Smythe shouted. More men came, including the town fire brigade.
“We have a fire brigade now?” Fletcher asked.
“Your father got it going last year,” Doc Stone explained as he quickly looked at Sophie. “Let’s get both of them to my place. I don’t see any burns but it’s hard to tell in this light.”
“Doc Stone,” Priscilla cried. “Where’s Sheriff Diamond?”
“He’s not here,” Fletcher said. “He went to Salem to question folks about Jasper.”
She stared down the street with something between fury and anguish. “Sebastian will head there, I know it.”
“How do you know?” Fletcher asked.
“Because …” She started to cough.
“Shhhh, now. Let’s get the two of you over to Doc’s place.”
Doc Stone helped Priscilla to her feet, then scooped her up and started carrying her up the street. Fletcher watched her rest her head against his shoulder, still weeping.
Then he realized Sophie was conscious and doing the same. “There now.” He started to follow the doctor, her in his arms. “You’re safe.”
“Oh, Fletcher …”
He wished he could stop and just hold her, but had to make sure she was all right. What if she was injured and not even she knew it? Better to get her to Doc’s and fast.
Once they arrived, he settled her on a chaise, while Doc Stone eased Priscilla onto a nearby sofa. “Are you hurt?” Doc asked her.
“Only my pride,” she said, then burst into tears again. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Sebastian wasn’t the man she first thought. Why else would he rescue her, then flee town like the very devil was after him?
“Where are the others?” Fletcher asked as he held Sophie close.
“They left us,” Sophie mumbled. “Left us to die.”
Fletcher seethed. “Who, darling? Who did this to you?”
“It was Mrs. Bee!” Priscilla spat.
“Mrs. Bee?!” the men said in unison.
“But … oh good Lord!” Fletcher said. “Of course, and that man with her …”
“She killed Jasper,” Sophie squeaked.
Fletcher tucked a finger under her chin and brought her face up to look at him. “Never mind that now. It’s not as important as making sure you’re okay. You’re safe with me, and I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”
She smiled.
“Are you all right?” Doc Stone asked as he left Priscilla and bent over Sophie.
She nodded. “I … I think so. We … weren’t there long enough …”
“Shhhh.” Fletcher held her tighter. “You’re safe … you’re safe …” He couldn’t stop saying it, didn’t know how to make the fear in his thundering heart subside. Half of him wanted to tuck her away somewhere to keep her that way while the other half seethed over Mrs. Bee and her cohort. And what about Sebastian? How did he fit into all of this?
He pushed the thoughts aside. All that could wait. He looked into Sophie’s eyes. “Marry me.”
“What?” she said weakly.
“Marry me, now.”
She smiled again. “Fletcher …”
“I love you, Sophie. I’ve loved you practically from the moment I saw you.”
“Practically? Was that before or after I was arrested?”
He smiled. At least she could joke. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face, cupped her cheek and kissed her gently. “I love you, Sophie Baxter. And I want to make you my wife.”
“Make me?” she said, tears in her eyes. “Don’t I have a say?”
“Yes, of course you do.” He kissed her again.
“Then I say yes.” She reached up to pull him down for another kiss.
Priscilla watched, envy in her eyes.
Doc Stone saw it and sighed. “I’m sorry, Priscilla, I really am. I saw how happy you were.”
“Yes, I was. But deep down I knew he wasn’t right for me. And I did some stupid things for that man.”
The doctor stood next to the sofa and looked at her. “You’re a smart girl, Priscilla. Next time you get tangled up with some fella, you’d best bring him around sooner.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, noticing Fletcher and Sophie hadn’t come up for air yet.
“In the multitude of councilors there is safety,” he quoted. “You want to have people you trust, to check your judgment.”
Priscilla sighed. “You sound like my mother.”
“You should listen to her.”
Priscilla smiled. “I did … finally. And now my fiancé is long gone.” She looked him over. “Tell me, Doc, what are you doing the rest of the evening? Care to help a damsel in distress?” She looked at Fletcher and Sophie, who at this point were gazing into each other’s eyes. “I’d say she told him yes.”
Doc Stone pulled at his collar. “I’d say you’re right. But I’m busy – and I think you’ve got some things to deal with before you take the plunge again.”
Priscilla pouted, then sighed in resignation. “You’re probably right. Just as well – I think I’m going to be busy too, helping Sheriff Diamond.”
Fletcher tore his gaze away from Sophie long enough to say, “Yes, you will. As will I, right after my wedding.”
Epilogue
The Horace Vander house, Independence, December 1898
“No, no, dear – put the ornaments over there. We’ll need them for the tree once they have it. Oh, now where’s that other box of decorations?” Sophie smiled as Gran Mercy poked and prodded at various boxes in her attic.
“They’re right where I left them, Mrs. Vander,” Betsy said. She turned to Sophie. “I put everything back in the
same place year after year, and every year it’s the same thing. She can’t find any of them.”
Sophie watched Gran Mercy open one box, then another. “But she’s standing in the middle of all of them.”
“Mm-hmm. But she gets her mind set on one particular ornament or decoration and thinks she has to find it first. I hope I’m not that dotty when I’m her age. Come on, let’s start taking these boxes down.”
Sophie picked up a box just as Fletcher came up the attic stairs. “What are you doing?!” he said in exasperation. “Put that box down!”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “It hardly weighs a thing.”
Betsy glanced at Gran Mercy and back again. “Have you told her yet?”
“No,” Fletcher said. “We’re saving it for Christmas day. An extra present.”
“I’m looking forward to that,” Sophie said. “Their first great-grandchild.”
Fletcher nodded. “Quite an end to an exciting year. Your arrival, the whole Jasper Munson affair, Mrs. Bee’s and Charles Hilton’s arrests, not to mention Sebastian’s trial.”
“That horrible man,” Sophie agreed. “But at least he wasn’t as horrible as he could’ve been. He closed the doors of the rooms where the fires were started to buy time until he could come back to get us out. And that lantern he tossed to start the fire in our room was empty – I’m surprised the wick caught fire at all.”
“That’s why the judge went a lot easier on him than on the other two,” Fletcher explained. “That, and him being willing to testify against them.”
“But poor Priscilla,” she added, ignoring Betsy’s eye roll.
“I think he loved Priscilla in his own way, but not enough to squelch his greed,” Fletcher said. “He made it clear in court he didn’t want to see either of you die, but he wasn’t going to turn himself in. That’s why he ran, remember?”
“I’m just glad it’s over and done with, so we can move on to more important things,” Betsy said. “Like the Christmas pageant. Now this town will have something decent to talk about. Maybe Priscilla Holbrook will even worry about trying to be this year’s Christmas queen instead of chasing after poor Doc Stone. That would be a Christmas miracle right there!”
