Courting Miss Adelaide

by Janet Dean

  “Mr. Graves makes a good point.” The sheriff patted her hand. “No need to worry your pretty head about such gruesome matters.”

  Heat climbed Adelaide’s neck and she rose to her feet. “Sheriff, my pretty head, as you call it, has a working brain.”

  “I don’t doubt your intelligence, but determining how Mrs. Hartman died is my job.”

  Before Adelaide could respond, Sheriff Rogers took her elbow and escorted her to the door.

  Outside, Adelaide paced in front of the brick structure. They wouldn’t listen, yet her future and that of Emma and William depended upon convincing the sheriff who had committed the crime.

  She peeked through the front window, could see Charles scribble something on his notepad. If she could only hear—

  Slipping around the corner of the building, she headed for the lone barred window. Too high for her to see inside, but she could hear every word and they couldn’t see her.

  “What made you decide to pursue what you’d originally deemed a suicide, Sheriff?”

  Adelaide heard a chair creak. “At the time, I thought it odd to find freshly baked bread in Mrs. Hartman’s kitchen. On the table, alongside a cup of tea, was a partially eaten slice. Didn’t make sense she’d have a bite to eat, then go out to the barn and hang herself. It looked like someone interrupted her.”

  “But your search of the premises found nothing to indicate foul play?”

  “No—until now. One of the Long boys found this while digging in the drainage ditch running along the front of the Hartman farm. His father brought it in.”

  Adelaide wished she could grow two feet taller to see what they were talking about.

  “After examining this garrote, I found a gray hair,” the sheriff continued.

  Remembering Mrs. Hartman’s neat gray bun, her gentle smile, Adelaide cringed and sagged against the brick. Just last year, Sarah had bought a pink Easter bonnet from Adelaide.

  “Any idea who’d want Mrs. Hartman dead?”

  “None. I’ll ride out this afternoon and talk to her daughter. See if she has any ideas.”

  Well, Adelaide certainly had an idea. She pulled away from the building, strode around the corner, took a deep breath and opened the door of the sheriff’s office, slamming it behind her.

  Sheriff Rogers leapt to his feet. Charles spun to face her.

  Adelaide met the sheriff’s gaze. “I know who did it.”

  Charles frowned. “Have you been eavesdropping?”

  She pulled herself erect. “What if I have? Didn’t you hear what I said? I know who killed Sarah Hartman.”

  Sheriff Rogers leveled his gaze on her. “All right, you have our attention, Miss Crum. Who killed Sarah Hartman?”

  “Ed Drummond. It has to be him.”

  Sheriff Rogers shoved his chair under the kneehole of the desk and rested his hands on the back. “Why him?”

  “I suspect he’s been abusing his wife and possibly William, an orphan staying there, and maybe even Emma, William’s sister, who’s living with me, temporarily.”

  Sheriff Rogers came around the desk. “Any proof?”

  Instead of answering the question, Adelaide asked one of her own. “Did you investigate Eddie Drummond’s death?”

  Sheriff Rogers rubbed his forehead. “Before you get all fired up, Eddie isn’t the first child to die from a stove-related fire. I found nothing suspect about his death. Are you telling me you have information to the contrary?”

  “No, but Frances said she wasn’t home when it happened and she called her home the ‘house of death.’”

  Sheriff Rogers grabbed a gun belt from a peg on the wall and strapped it on his hip. “Sounds like the ravings of a highly strung woman who’s hiked through hell and back.”

  “It’s more than that. I saw Ed Drummond firsthand. Saw—”

  Charles scowled. “You were at the Drummond farm this morning, not running errands.”

  “What choice did I have? You wouldn’t see danger if it hit you over the head.”

  “What happened at the Drummond house?” the sheriff asked.

  She pivoted toward him. “Ed got angry when I asked if William could spend the night with—”

  “Did he hurt you?” Charles interrupted.

  “No, but he came after me when my buggy hit a rock and broke a wheel.”

  The sheriff frowned. “Could he have been trying to help?”

  “By screaming obscenities? I think not.” Adelaide took a deep breath, struggling to slow her speech. She sounded panicky, even to her own ears. “Frances is afraid of him and afraid for me, too. I pleaded with her to come into town, but she refused.”

  Sheriff Rogers ran a finger over his mustache. “If she were in real danger, surely she’d have done what you suggested.”

  The sheriff didn’t believe her.

  Adelaide looked to Charles for help, only to see his seething gaze.

  Adelaide paced the room. “Emma couldn’t even eat breakfast. I think she knows what’s going on, but is afraid to say.”

  Sheriff Rogers harrumphed as if he didn’t put much credence in the actions of a child.

  “By going to the home of a man you consider dangerous, you put yourself at risk.” Charles thrust a hand through his hair. “Why are you acting foolishly?”

  Adelaide heard the anger in his voice and the underlying worry. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect those children.” Did she see a flicker of respect in his eyes, even if begrudging? “I had to get evidence. But all I got was a stronger feeling he’s an evil man.”

  “Lots of folks around here think highly of Ed Drummond,” the sheriff said. “Can’t see why he’d kill his mother-in-law, unless he wanted to get his hands on her property. I’ll talk to his wife. See what I can dig up.” He turned to Adelaide. “More than likely a drifter killed her, but if you’re right, he’s dangerous.”

  Charles took her hand. “Promise you’ll stay away—”

  Adelaide shook free from his grasp. “I won’t stand by and let anything happen to those children.”

  Charles stepped closer, and his gaze locked with hers. “If you must go out there, let me go with you.”

  With Charles so close, Adelaide found it impossible to disagree. “I won’t go alone.”

  The sheriff plucked his Stetson from a hall tree near the door. “I’ll make a point of seeing the boy.”

  The tension in her shoulders eased. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

  Adelaide laid her hand on Charles’s arm. “Is the sheriff’s investigation of Ed enough reason to take William out of their home?” Adelaide wanted that so badly she couldn’t breathe.

  The sheriff plopped the hat on his head. “Don’t say anything to the committee yet.” He turned a stern eye on Adelaide. “If Drummond isn’t involved, I wouldn’t want to blow this out of proportion. After I get back to town, I’ll look into that message on your brick.”

  Adelaide nodded. Charles took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. They followed Sheriff Rogers from the office.

  As she and Charles walked toward her shop, Adelaide’s eyes misted. “I can’t understand how anyone could kill a sweet woman like Sarah. She never hurt anyone,”

  “It’s anger, uncontrollable anger.”

  “I can’t understand that kind of anger.”

  “Consider yourself lucky. A man can do unspeakable things to the very people he should love and protect.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve got the scars to prove it.”

  Adelaide winced for what Charles had endured as a child, a vivid reminder of what William might be going through at the Drummond farm. “Then why won’t you believe me about William?”

  “I’m a man of evidence, Addie. Show me proof and—”

  “The proof is here.” She pressed a hand to his chest right above his heart. “But you never trust your heart, do you?” She pulled her hand away.

  “I don’t like the idea of finding a man guilty without more hard evidence than we have on Drummond. But whether
he killed his wife’s mother or not, he’s got it in for you, so stay away from him.” He exhaled. “With you gallivanting around the countryside, I’ll never have a moment’s peace.”

  Adelaide knew one thing for sure. Charles Graves couldn’t have it both ways. “You can’t tell me how to live my life, Charles, when you’re not willing to be a part of it.”

  With that, she walked away. He made no attempt to stop her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  That evening Charles stopped at the back of Adelaide’s shop. A section of the brick had been painted with black. Addie had wasted no time concealing the threat against her. His chest swelled with admiration for her plucky attitude, though it might get her into deeper trouble.

  Whether she wanted him around or not didn’t matter. He might not be able to become part of her life, but he sure didn’t intend to stand by and let her lose hers.

  On the landing, he rapped on the door. Addie opened it, but didn’t invite him in. Her face looked carved out of stone, but even with her righteous anger wrapped around her like a hedge, her goodness showed through.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Not exactly a warm welcome. “I came to apologize.”

  “Or to see if I have Ranger tied up out back, ready to ride to the Drummond farm?”

  He had to protect Adelaide, but he needed to do it without getting her riled up. He chuckled. “No bridles and reins tucked away in that kitchen, as clean as it is. Hmm, smells good, too.” He gave her a grin. “Any chance you’d take pity on my growling stomach?”

  “Your stomach is not my concern.”

  “I’ll clean up the kitchen afterward.”

  She tried to hide her amusement, but her mouth twisted up at the corners.

  “What’s cooking?” he asked.

  “If you insist on being nosy, ham and sweet potatoes.”

  His stomach put in its two cents, reminding him he’d only had half a sandwich at noon. He’d probably find the other half buried in a pile of work on his desk. “If I apologize for trying to tell you what to do, will you toss me a few scraps?”

  Grinning, she stepped back to let him in. “Maybe.”

  She shooed him into the parlor so she could put the finishing touches on dinner. He hoped she believed his excuse for coming. After learning Sarah Hartman had been murdered and now someone wanted Addie silenced, he had no intention of letting her out of his sight. The woman wouldn’t take orders unless they came directly from God.

  Addie had tried her best to look annoyed, but he could tell she welcomed his company. No matter how brave she tried to appear, Ed Drummond frightened her. Maybe she’d think twice before confronting Ed again.

  Emma passed in the hall and saw him. She dashed to his side. “I didn’t know you were here!”

  “I’ve been invited to stay for dinner.”

  She plopped down beside him. “It’s my job to set the table. Wanna help?”

  “Sure.”

  Arriving in the kitchen, he filled glasses while Emma laid out the flatware, chattering about her day. Charles tried to keep out of Addie’s way as she hustled about, ignoring him.

  Soon they gathered at the table. This time Emma said grace.

  “Have you told Emma about your adventure?” Charles asked.

  “I’ve told her I rode a horse. She wants me to teach her.”

  Charles winked at Addie. “Giving me the boot, Emma?”

  Emma’s gaze skipped from one to the other, and then a big grin split her face. “I want both of you to teach me.”

  Charles grinned. “You’d make an excellent diplomat.”

  “What’s a diplomat?”

  “Someone in government who’s a skilled talker, tries to make everyone happy.”

  “Okay! I like to make people happy. And I like to talk.”

  Addie touched Emma’s cheek. “You make me very happy, sweetheart.” She looked at Charles. “It’s nice of you to assume Emma might one day hold a position in government. Perhaps my position on suffrage has swayed the editor.”

  Charles chuckled. When he’d made the comment, he hadn’t thought of the implications. He could well imagine Emma getting that choice someday. But, did Addie have to lead the charge?

  Toward the end of the meal, the conversation drifted to circulation figures, and Emma caught Charles’s eye.

  He tapped Addie’s hand and pointed at the little girl who had nodded off at the table. “Apparently, we bored her.”

  Her gaze soft with tenderness, Addie smiled and rose. Charles scooped Emma in his arms, and followed Addie to the child’s room. When he laid Emma down, she opened her eyes. “Do I have to go to bed?” she asked with a yawn.

  “You’re sleepy,” Addie said.

  While Addie stayed to oversee Emma’s bedtime ritual, Charles returned to the kitchen. As he washed and set the plates to drain, the gentle melody of a lullaby drifted to him.

  His mother had sung that same tune to him and Sam. The memories it brought back were bittersweet, tinged with pain and loss, but also with his mother’s kisses and gentle touches. The sweet sound of Adelaide’s voice carried through him, soothing his spirit. For an instant, he wanted to capture the feeling, to stay with Adelaide and Emma, to promise them ever after.

  But the moment passed. He had no reason to think he’d be capable of that kind of love. Everyone who’d loved him had let him down. And he’d do the same.

  He returned to the task, scrubbing at the pans. He’d best remember what life had taught him and not let a sentimental song give him hope. Nothing had changed. He must take a solitary path.

  A touch on his shoulder made him jump.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Addie’s gaze scanned the spotless kitchen. “Looks like my timing’s perfect.”

  “I told you—if you cook, I’ll clean up.” He patted his abdomen. “I got the best part of the deal.”

  She smiled. Charles reveled in the beauty of that smile.

  “Care for a cup of coffee?”

  “Sounds good.” He dried his hands on a towel. “I heard you singing. My mother used to sing that song.” He cleared his throat, trying to disguise how much it had meant to him. “Reminded me of the happy times she tried to give Sam and me.”

  She laid a gentle hand alongside his jaw. “I’m glad.”

  Her touch healed like a balm, releasing some of the pain of his childhood throbbing anew in him. He covered her hand with his. For an instant, he felt whole, reborn, but then he dropped her hand and moved away from her touch.

  Adelaide stepped back, giving Charles wide berth. Once again he’d put up an invisible wall between them, still running away from what they could have together. But he wasn’t ready, and she wouldn’t push him. She couldn’t force love. If it had to be forced, it wasn’t love.

  Besides, Emma brought enough joy to her life—if Adelaide got to keep her. For that to happen, she had to get to the truth.

  Had the sheriff learned anything at the Drummond farm? She wanted to get Charles’s thoughts on the murder. “Why do you suppose Ed Drummond killed his mother-in-law? Do you think he just lost his temper, killed her in a fit of rage?”

  “If he killed her,” he said, raising a brow, “he planned it. A garrote isn’t something you just happen to have. She must have posed a threat, at least in Drummond’s mind.”

  “Mrs. Hartman? I can’t see…” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Unless she knew Ed beats Frances and threatened to expose him.”

  He shrugged. “People are murdered for less.”

  “Your job hasn’t made you an admirer of mankind.”

  “Some would say it’s made me callous.”

  She shook her head. “You may try to be, but you have a kind heart. I see that with Ranger, with Emma, with me.” She took another sip of her coffee. “In the short time you’ve lived here, you’ve earned the respect of the town fathers.”

  His brows lifted in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

  “Your work with the
selection committee, the way the committee agreed with your suggestion to place Emma in my home, Sheriff Rogers’s obvious regard.”

  He smiled. “Placing Emma in your home was an easy decision. I knew you’d take excellent care of any child.”

  Adelaide reached across the table and put her hand on his arm. “It appears you and I respect one another.”

  He laid his palm over her hand. “I guess we do.”

  She pulled out the columns tucked into her purse. “I wrote two columns on women’s suffrage.”

  “Let me see them,” he said in a weary tone.

  Adelaide handed them over. “I own the paper, too, and I want the first of these to run in the next edition.”

  Charles glanced at the sheaf in his hand. “Then I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “I’d hoped you’d want to support the women in this community, that you’d want to support me.”

  “I do support you.”

  In many ways he did, but not in the most vital ones.

  He read the pages in his hand and lifted his gaze. “You sound very convincing.” He studied her. “You’re determined to teach women to be courageous, to expand their sphere of influence, their focus, no matter the cost. Are you sure you’re ready to take such a risk?”

  That question weighed on her. “Yes, my mind is made up.”

  “I hope you’re prepared for the consequences.”

  A shrill scream brought them to their feet and sent them racing to Emma’s bedroom. Adelaide’s heart pounded in her chest. Had Ed gotten into the house?

  They found Emma cowering under the covers, quaking. Weak-kneed with relief, Adelaide sank onto the bed and gathered the weeping child in her arms. Charles sat beside them.

  “He was here!” Emma wailed.

  “Who?” Emma didn’t say who lived in her nightmare, but Adelaide never doubted the man’s identity. “It’s only a dream,” she crooned, rocking the little girl on her lap. “You’re fine.”

  Charles put his arms around Adelaide, around them both. Soon Emma quieted and Adelaide sang the lullaby she had earlier. This time Charles joined in, his deep baritone blending with the melody. Emma fell back to sleep.