by Jo Goodman
She used the sponge to draw a spiral on his back and later on his chest. He closed his eyes. She didn’t think it was possible, but it seemed to her that he sank more deeply into the water. “How did you know that Lily would go to your office to turn herself in? You must have realized it immediately. I didn’t understand until we were standing in the cell.”
He shrugged almost imperceptibly. “I suppose because I’ve known her most of my life, and in this job you get a feeling for what people will and won’t do. It’s not exact, because I sure as hell never thought that Lily would lay a hand on her husband, let alone smash in his skull, but once she’d done it, it wouldn’t occur to her not to take responsibility.”
“It was self-defense.”
“I understand.”
“She felt threatened.”
“I agree, but it wasn’t the first time. Probably not the hundredth. I keep turning it over in my mind. Why now?”
“Maybe because he finally gave her a weapon that would end it. What else had she ever had that would assure his death? A knife? A gun? Her fists?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter because we know what really happened. Jeremiah Salt burned in hell.”
Ridley nodded. “And God dropped a hammer on his head.”
Chapter Forty-four
The town council met in January. Their first order of business was to vote yea or nay on the proposal that the sheriff had put before them weeks earlier. They expected more than the usual number of folks to participate in the proceedings and set out benches in the library to accommodate them. It was often remarked that the room was half again as crowded as it had been at the Gordon brothers’ trial. People were permitted to stand in front of the council and weigh in on the law before the councilmen voted. There were a few who thought it was unnecessary to put a law on the books that anyone with common sense and kindness was already following and a few more who railed against it because they considered it contradictory to the Bible’s teachings, but the overwhelming majority of those who stood and voiced their opinion were in favor of it, and as many men came to the front to speak as women.
The law passed unanimously because even tetchy Hank Ketchum argued in its favor, and although it was hardly ever said in more than a whisper, folks took to calling it Lily’s Law.
Ridley and Ben had imagined announcing their engagement immediately following the council meeting when so many townspeople were still gathered in the library. By mutual agreement, they changed their minds, as neither wanted to step on the celebration that followed the passage of Lily’s Law.
The town rallied in the wake of the fire to help Lily and her children. The Springers took her and the girls in while the Loves kept the boys. The arrangement lasted until the debris from the fire was carried away and volunteers constructed and furnished a new home for the family. Mr. Washburn found a buyer for the forge and struck a good deal for Lily that made it worth selling. Mrs. Fish learned that Lily was a better than competent seamstress and hired her to do piecework for the dress shop. The work would be steady and would not require Lily to leave her younger children. Clay Salt and Frankie Fuller teamed up to hire themselves out for odd jobs around town. Pennies earned here and there sometimes bought candy from the mercantile, but mostly they filled the family coffers.
Ridley was not the only one who noticed when healthy color returned to Lily Salt’s face and the last vestige of a limp disappeared. The family appeared in church every Sunday, where young Hamilton Salt sang with gusto even though he was only beginning to learn the words.
Ellie and Abe Butterworth’s wedding reception at the end of February was the first event to bring people together in the town’s new meeting hall. The vote to approve the construction of a hall was the second order of business the day Lily’s Law was passed. Hank Ketchum was the only dissenter. He thought squeezing six people onto a bench meant for four was just fine, and if folks had to rub shoulders against stacks of books, well, maybe they’d be smarter for it.
The day following the reception, the newlyweds boarded a train for Chicago, where they intended to spend a week seeing the wonders and touring hotels with an eye to modernizing the Butterworth. Visiting hotels had been Ellie’s idea, not Abe’s, but he was so pleased to get her out of Frost Falls that he didn’t care what they did. The capable but unconventional choice to manage the hotel in their absence was Amanda Springer. In the short time since taking over the reins of her family’s butcher shop, she had improved the selection and the service and knew to the penny how the profits were being spent. She hired Big Mike Fuller as her butcher and reluctantly agreed with her husband that Big Mike was better suited to the job than James had ever been. Jim Springer was behind the bar at the Songbird almost daily, but he promised the departing Butterworths that he would help Amanda at the hotel if she asked. It was an easy promise to make because he knew his teetotaling wife would knock back three fingers of whiskey before she’d come to him.
Neither Ben nor Ridley wanted to announce their engagement before Ellie and Abe returned, but they both agreed that an announcement had become ridiculously anticlimactic.
Ridley sat on the edge of her bed, removing her stockings, while Ben hunkered in front of the stove and added wood to the fire. “It’s not possible,” she said, “that people don’t know we are—”
“Lovers?”
“I was going to say ‘a couple.’”
Ben turned away from the stove so she couldn’t miss the face he made. “A couple of what?”
“Don’t be difficult. You know what I’m saying.”
“I’m not sure I do because there’s something you’re not saying.” He stood, brushed himself off, and went to the basin to wash his face and hands. From behind the dressing screen, he said, “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
“What? I couldn’t hear you.”
“Yes!”
“You might as well tell me, Eugenia. You know I’ll persist. I learned that from you.”
“It’s not Eugenia.”
Ben peered over the top of the screen. “You’re sure?”
“Sure enough.”
“Then what’s the thing you’re not saying?”
“I’ve been thinking that we could elope.”
Ben still held a sopping wet washcloth in his hand when he stepped out from behind the screen. The dripping water was distracting so he tossed it back in the basin. “Elope? Did I hear that right?”
Pressing her lips together to maintain her mien, Ridley nodded rapidly several times.
“How long have you been carrying around that thought in a poke?” When she didn’t reply immediately, he became suspicious. “Don’t pretend you have to think about it.”
“I’m thinking about a thought in a poke. Sometimes you divert me.”
“Hmm. Answer the question.”
“I suppose it occurred to me when you said you’d be my husband.”
“So even before I proposed.”
“Uh-huh.”
Ben’s expression turned puzzled; he rubbed the back of his neck. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You have family around that would be disappointed if you eloped, and I never thought we’d still be participating in a charade of our own making at this late date.” She held up a hand. “Not that the charade isn’t without its rewards. There is a certain excitement to an illicit affair.”
“There is nothing illicit about it.”
She shrugged a little sheepishly. “I know, but sometimes I like to pretend.”
“Let’s call it a secret affair.”
“That’s just it. I don’t think it’s a secret any longer.”
Ben walked over to the rocker, dropped into it, and began removing his boots. “Is there talk? I haven’t heard any. Not even a whisper.”
“I think the silence speaks for itself.”
&nbs
p; “Huh?”
“They’re having fun with us.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No. It’s sweet in a way. They’re colluding.”
“I don’t know if I would call that sweet, but it’s tolerant of them.”
“So . . .”
“You’re asking about eloping?”
“I am.”
“Have you told your parents?”
“Yes. And my brother and sister. I wrote them before Christmas.”
“And?”
“Nothing. At least not yet. I’m not certain anyone believed me. I told you that marriage was never much on my mind when I lived at home. They’re probably trying to decide how to respond.”
“Did you tell them how I earn my living?”
“I did.”
“Well, that goes a long way to explaining their silence.”
“Not as long a way as you think.” She shimmied out of her gown and hung it in the wardrobe. “What would your mother think if we eloped?”
“She knows I don’t like standing up in front of people, so she’d blame me.”
Ridley smirked. “Well, that’s good.”
“Yeah, you don’t want her cuffing you.”
Chuckling, she slipped her nightgown over her head. When she emerged, she asked, “What about your father and Fiona? You didn’t leave it to Remington and Phoebe to tell them, did you?”
“No, but I haven’t done anything about it.”
“Hmm.”
Ben was quiet as he stripped down to his drawers and nightshirt. He looked over his shoulder at Ridley, who had moved to warm herself close to the stove. “I’ve been thinking about something you said.”
“Oh?”
“About family and Fiona and cutting her out. Do you remember that conversation?”
Ridley turned around to face him. “I do remember.”
Ben took a breath and said, “I’m going to ride out to Twin Star tomorrow. It’s been too long. I need to make amends.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Ben.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t do anything. That’s what you were telling me.”
Ridley left the stove to walk around the rocker and stand between his splayed legs. She leaned forward, rested her palms on the rocker’s arms, and stopped it from moving. “What you’re going to do, it’s important.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“You’ve thought about what Ellie will say when she returns and finds out?”
“She’ll have a lot to say, but she has no say. I had to get that clear in my head.” Ben placed his hands on either side of Ridley’s waist and toppled her so that she was snug in his lap. “Do you still want to elope, Euphemia?”
“Not Euphemia.”
“Effie?”
“No.”
“All right. Do you still want to elope?”
“No, I don’t suppose I do.”
“It’s because of your name, isn’t it? You want to torture me as long as you can.”
She laughed. “Of course you’d think that. No, it’s because I want to meet your father and Fiona before we’re married, not after.”
“You can come with me tomorrow.”
“No. That’s a terrible idea, and you’d realize it if I lost my bearings and said yes. Besides, I’m going to press you to invite everyone from Twin Star to our wedding.” She placed a finger across his lips when he groaned softly. “Don’t act as if you didn’t expect it, and you know it’s the right thing to do.”
She kissed him then, which was also the right thing to do, and for as long as it lasted, Ben forgot that he could have eloped.
* * *
• • •
They were married on the first day of spring, which in Frost Falls meant that there were still pockets of snow on the ground and a chill in the air in spite of clear skies and a butterball sun. The bride wore a silk gown the color of pale pink roses. The low décolletage and sheer puffed sleeves highlighted her bare shoulders and the graceful line of her neck. She thought it was too daring when she studied it in one of Mrs. Fish’s design books, but the three women hovering close by—Ellie, Phoebe, and Fiona—all of whom had firm opinions and had yet to reach consensus on anything to do with the wedding, finally did just that. Ridley seized on their agreement, told Mrs. Fish that she would have this gown, and closed the book to prevent further discussion.
She felt a slight tug from behind and looked back over her shoulder. Hannah and Lizzie Salt, turned out beautifully in silk dresses with high collars and pointed lace yokes, were fussing with her train so that it draped like a sheer waterfall from her waist to the floor. She smiled at them, but they were so earnest in their fussing that they didn’t notice. Ridley turned that same smile on the man at her side, dear Abraham Butterworth, who had been so honored when she asked if he would escort her that he had to pluck a handkerchief from his pocket and dab at his eyes.
When he held out his elbow for Ridley to take, there was no question as to who was supporting whom. For her part, she couldn’t wait to reach the groom, and Mr. Butterworth’s real purpose was to help her keep her dignity by preventing a mad dash up the center aisle. He did his job very well.
Ben had eyes for no one but Ridley. It was easy for him to forget that the church was crowded with family and well-wishers, so he didn’t mind standing up in front of them. Remington was at his side with the ring, which Ben had asked about nearly a dozen times before they left the house. His brother finally drove him into a corner and threatened to give the ring to Colt and what happened to it after that . . . Remington’s careless shrug was all that was required to punctuate his threat and it was the last time that Ben asked.
Ridley carried a spray of purple crocuses tied with a pink lace ribbon. They were unceremoniously presented to her by Clay Salt and Frankie Fuller, who thrust them into her hands and took off so quickly to find their seats that she suspected the flowers were not plucked from the wild but more likely from someone’s garden. She did not want to think about whom that someone might be. She handed the flowers to Hannah Salt when she reached the front of the church. Hannah unbundled the spray and gave half to Lizzie along with the ribbon.
The minister asked who gives this woman, and Ridley hardly bristled at the question. She was sure Ben knew what she was thinking because she glimpsed his brief smile, the one that told her that in spite of the solemnity of the occasion, he was amused. It warmed her heart to know it.
Abe Butterworth answered the minister’s question in a surprisingly steady voice and then took his seat beside Ellie. In the interest of maintaining the fragile peace in Ben’s larger family, Ellie and Abe sat on the groom’s side, while the Frosts—all of them except Remington—sat in for the bride’s family. Thus far, the only chill in the air was outside.
Ridley could not keep her attention on the minister, not when Ben took a sideways step toward her. He looked splendid in his black wool suit and black satin vest. The coattail was spoon-shaped with two large fabric-covered buttons at the small of his back. She wondered how many times his fingers had raked his hair before someone—Thaddeus perhaps—had told him to stop. Except for one thatch of orange hair at cross-purposes with all the other darker ones, there was scant evidence that he had indulged in his most endearing habit.
Side by side, they listened to the minister’s words, and when it came time to make their vows, Ben took Ridley’s hand in his and whispered, “You’ll have to tell me now, Emilia.”
“Not Emilia,” she whispered back.
“Edie?”
Ridley shook her head.
“Elspeth?”
“No.”
“Enigma? Because that would make sense.”
He looked so disappointed when this last guess failed that Ridle
y did not care that she had not been instructed to kiss him yet; she did it anyway. And when he beamed at her, she did it again.
This break in tradition caused a happy hum to hover over the congregation and the minister to pointedly clear his throat not once, but twice. It was never certain to anyone that Ridley and Ben heard the reprimand coming from the minister’s throat. It seemed more likely that they turned to face him again because they were done kissing.
Ben went first. “I, Benjamin Franklin Madison, take you, E. Ridley Woodhouse, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward . . .” And so it went until it was Ridley’s turn.
“I, Easter Ridley Woodhouse, take you, Benjamin Franklin Madison, to be my—”
“Easter?” Ben said under his breath. “What kind of name is Easter?”
“Wedded husband,” she went on. “To have and to hold, from—”
“That’s not a name. It’s a religious observance.”
“This day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for—”
“I could have guessed until death do us part and never arrived at Easter.”
“Poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what I was saying.”
Ridley’s mouth curved in that splendid, swallowed-the-sun smile that he loved while she stepped hard on his foot. Only those in the pews at the front observed it, and not one among them, including the groom’s mother, found fault with the bride.
* * *
• • •
Remington encouraged Ben and Ridley to leave the reception while the revelry was still at a civil pitch. It was not a suggestion they had to hear twice. They bade good night to family and dearest friends and escaped the town hall through a side door.
Ridley hooked her arm in Ben’s and leaned into him as they walked. She held him back only once when he veered away from their houses. “I didn’t have my mind set on one bed or the other,” she told him, “but they’re both back that way.”
“Wedding gift from Abe and Ellie.” Ben pointed to the hotel. “Tonight we have the finest suite in the Butterworth, and tomorrow we have a private car on the train to Denver.”
