Dale locked the office door and descended the stairs. He always welcomed the end of a long work week, but never more so than this one. Tate Ridley had done his best to antagonize him for the past three days—ever since Simon left for the logging camp. Even though Dale had a half day of making deliveries for the general store ahead of him, he looked forward to a day and a half without having to deal with Ridley.
Some additional paperwork had kept him a few extra minutes, and Clyde was probably wondering where he was. He hurried to the bottom of the steps, but before he went ten feet, a shiny glint caught his eye. He stopped and bent to take a closer look.
A silver chain lay in the dirt. Dale picked it up and examined it. He couldn’t remember if Simon wore a silver watch chain. This one had an oval fob with an oak leaf carved into it. Made sense, he supposed, that a man who worked in the timber business would have a watch fob with an oak leaf, but Dale simply hadn’t noticed it before. It had to be Simon’s. He’d never seen anyone else around the lumberyard with something like that. Strange, he hadn’t noticed it lying on the ground before now, but he’d been busy the past couple of days, and had much on his mind.
He was already late getting to the general store, so rather than climb the stairs and lock the chain in the desk, Dale slipped it into his pocket. Simon wouldn’t be back until next week anyway. Dale figured to tuck the chain into the desk drawer first thing Monday morning.
He hastened across the bridge and decided to cut through the trees and the alley that ran between the bank and the post office to save time. Halfway down the alley, an unwelcomed voice hailed him.
“Covington.”
Dale groaned. Couldn’t he just pretend he didn’t hear and keep going? He heaved a sigh and turned. “What is it, Tate?”
Ridley came sauntering up to him. Had the man been following him?
“I hear tell you and that Yankee reporter been goin’ to church together.” He grinned at his companion, the same man who had harassed Charity a week and a half earlier. “Mighty holier-than-thou if you ask me.”
“Is there a point to this, Ridley? I need to get to the mercantile.”
Ridley lifted his shoulders and held out his hands. “Just appears like she’s settlin’ in to stay. Thought by now you’d be tryin’ to get shed of her. ‘Course maybe you got yourself other reasons for keepin’ her close.” Ridley and his friend guffawed.
Dale stiffened and curled his fingers into fists. “You better watch your mouth, Ridley.” Acid crawled up Dale’s throat at Ridley’s insinuations.
“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ that ain’t so.” Ridley waggled his eyebrows. “She ain’t too bad to look at. The two of you got ya a cozy arrangement goin’ on?”
Dale growled from the pit of his stomach and connected his fist with Ridley’s jaw. The man sprawled in the dirt holding his hand to his mouth.
Dale spread his feet and braced himself, waiting for Ridley to get up.
Ridley pulled himself to his feet and spit blood. “C’mon. You think you’re better’n me?”
Arms gripped Dale from behind and Ridley rammed his fist into Dale’s middle. A moment later the two men were throwing punches high and low. Dale bellowed with rage, putting every ounce of strength he had into a right hook.
Ridley ducked and Dale fell off balance. Ridley leaped onto Dale and began driving punches into Dale’s face. Dale rolled and shoved Ridley into the dirt, the two of them wrestling for control.
A steel-like grip dug fingers into Dale’s shoulder and pulled him off Ridley, depositing him on his backside up against the building. Miles Flint then yanked Ridley up by his shirt.
“What’s going on here?” The sheriff’s gruff demand rang through the alley.
Dale rubbed his jaw and stood gingerly, holding his ribs. “He just needs to learn some manners.”
“That ain’t so, sheriff,” Ridley yelled, pointing at Dale. “He stole my watch chain. Look in his pocket.”
“What?” Dale stared at Ridley, momentarily speechless. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the cobwebs. Surely he didn’t hear correctly.
Miles tossed Dale a look over his shoulder. “You have his watch chain in your pocket?”
Dale tried to straighten, but the pain in his ribs grabbed him. “How did he know I had that watch chain in my pocket?”
Miles turned halfway around and nailed Dale with a hard stare. “You mean you do have his watch chain?”
“Yes, but—I mean, no. I didn’t know it was—I found it.” Dale groped to put the pieces together in his mind.
Miles checked Dale’s pockets and extracted the silver chain.
“See there, I told you, sheriff.” Ridley fairly crowed. “He stole my watch chain, and I was just tryin’ to get it back.”
Dale pointed at Ridley. “Miles, surely you don’t believe I’d steal a watch chain or anything else. I found it lying in the dirt over at the sawmill. I thought it was Simon’s. I was going to lock it up in the office, but I was already late getting to the mercantile.”
Miles looked from Dale to Ridley and back to Dale. He slipped the chain into his vest pocket and took hold of Dale’s arm. “Come on, Dale.”
“What? Miles, you know me better than that.”
“Dale, I got no choice. Tate, here, says you stole his watch chain. The watch chain is in your pocket. Until I can untangle this mess, I’m going to have to lock you up.”
As Dale walked up the alley toward the jail with Miles, Ridley’s evil laugh followed him.
Chapter 14
Arrested!”
Charity blurted the word as if it tasted bad on her tongue. Surely Hannah must be mistaken. The distress in her land-lady’s voice said otherwise.
“Yes.” Hannah stood in the doorway of Charity’s room, wringing the corner of her apron between her fingers. “Dale and Tate got into a fight, and Tate said Dale stole his watch. Miles arrested Dale.”
Charity grabbed her shawl and bonnet. “This is preposterous. Dale would never do such a thing.” She yanked her bonnet on and tossed the shawl around her shoulders.
Hannah followed her down the stairs, and Charity paused by the front door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try not to worry.”
Charity marched out the door and lengthened her strides once past the gate. She placed one hand on her head to keep her bonnet from blowing off in her haste. Minutes later, she stepped in the door of the sheriff’s office.
“Mr. Flint, what is the meaning of this? Have you lost your mind? How could you possibly believe Dale is guilty of stealing a watch? This is the most ridiculous, absurd, outrageous—”
The sheriff rose from his desk and held up his hand. “Whoa.” He pulled an extra chair out from behind a cabinet and positioned it opposite his. “Have a seat.”
Charity plunked both fists on her hips. “I don’t feel like sitting. I demand you release Dale at once.”
Flint heaved a loud sigh. “‘Fraid I can’t do that just yet.” He pointed to the chair. “Have a seat.”
She narrowed her eyes at the man. “I don’t want to sit.”
Flint placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “I didn’t ask you if you wanted to sit. Have a seat.”
Steaming, Charity gathered her skirts and plopped into the chair, her arms folded across her chest and one foot tapping on the floor.
Flint sat at his desk and picked up a stubby pencil. “First of all, Dale didn’t steal a watch. Tate Ridley said he stole his watch chain. Secondly, if it’s any comfort to you, you’re not the first person who’s come in here in the past hour demandin’ that I release him. I thought Clyde Sawyer was gonna climb over my desk and grab my keys, and I almost had to arrest his wife! The preacher clucked his tongue at me. The Ferguson ladies were pert near in tears, and Miss Hannah—” He shook his head. “I won’t be surprised if she throws me out of the boardinghouse on my ear. I might have to sleep in the jail tonight, myself!”
Charity harrumphed. “Shouldn’t that tell you something? If
all those people believe Dale is innocent, how can you possibly keep him in jail?”
Flint leaned back in his chair. “Because the watch chain was in Dale’s pocket.” He tossed the pencil on the desk. “I can let you see him as soon as Doc Greenway is finished—”
Charity leaped from her chair. “Doctor? What’s the matter with Dale?”
The old, gray-haired doctor Charity remembered interviewing a couple of weeks ago stepped through the door that led to the cells. “Afternoon, Miss Galbraith.” He set his shabby black bag on the chair Charity had vacated. “I bandaged him up, Miles. He has a couple of cracked ribs, and some cuts and bruises. I’ve seen worse.”
Charity’s breath seemed to escape involuntarily. “But how—”
“He and Tate were goin’ at it in the alley when I come up on them,” Flint explained. “Doc, how much do I owe you?”
Doctor Greenway waved his hand. “Not a thing. Dale’s a fine man. If you want my opinion, Miles Flint, I think you’re a lunatic for keeping him in jail.” He gave a snort and a sharp nod of his head to punctuate his statement, snatched his bag, and stomped out the door.
Flint rolled his eyes and sighed. “I suppose you’ll be wantin’ to see him now?”
Charity didn’t answer but marched toward the inner door, tossing a look over her shoulder at the sheriff to make sure he followed.
Dale lay on a narrow cot in the small cell. Charity gasped when she caught a glimpse of his swollen eye, bruised face, and cut lip. Her stomach turned over at the sight of the bandages swathed around his ribs. Her heart thudded in her chest like a sledgehammer.
“Dale, I came as soon as I heard. Oh my soul, are you all right?” She couldn’t keep her voice steady.
Dale released a muffled groan as he sat up. “I’m all right. Just a little sore.” His cut lip slightly distorted his speech.
A basin of water and a cloth sat on the floor beside the cot. Charity turned to Flint. “Can you let me in there?”
The sheriff smirked and grasped one iron bar of the door. It swung open without benefit of Flint’s key. “Take as long as you want.” He turned back toward his office. “I’ll just leave this here door open for propriety’s sake.”
Charity slipped into the cell, a shudder rattling through her middle. She hesitated. Despite the open door, it wasn’t seemly to sit beside Dale on the cot. The sheriff read her mind.
“Thought you might want this chair.” He carried the chair Charity had used in the outer office through the cell door and placed it opposite the cot.
Dale tilted his head, a painful grimace on his face. “Thanks, Miles.”
Charity sat and scooted the chair a bit closer to him. “Dale, I don’t understand. How in the world did this happen?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out myself.” He shifted position and winced. “I already told Miles my side of the story.”
“Would you mind telling me?” She took the cloth, dipped it in the basin of water, and gently placed it against Dale’s swollen eye. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d like to hear it from you. I promise I won’t put it in my articles.”
Dale tried to chuckle but instead held his hand to his ribs. “Ooh.” He took a few shallow breaths. “I was finished for the day at the sawmill. I’d run a little late because there was some paperwork I needed to finish. I locked the office door and went down the steps. Not far from the stairs I saw something glinting in the sunlight. I picked it up. It was a watch chain and fob.”
She blotted his cut lip and rinsed the cloth again while Dale went on.
“I don’t remember seeing it before, but I figured it must belong to Simon. I thought it was strange, though, because Simon left for the logging camp a couple of days ago. If he dropped it, I should have seen it lying there before today. Guess I just had too much on my mind and didn’t notice it.”
“How did Tate come to accuse you of stealing it?” She tenderly laid the cool rag on his face again.
“That’s another thing I can’t figure out.” He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Because I was late, I cut through a couple of yards and alleys to save time. It’s not the way I normally go, but Tate came up behind me, almost like he was following me. That man who accosted you the other day was with him. Tate started saying some rude things. I told him to watch his mouth, but he kept on, making some very crass and insulting remarks, so I punched him in the mouth and knocked him down. Next thing I know, that other fellow grabbed me from behind, and Tate and I were fighting. When Miles showed up, Tate started yelling about me stealing his watch chain.”
Charity pulled the cloth back. “He didn’t mention the chain when he first approached you?”
“No.”
“Did you tell the sheriff about this?”
Miles Flint’s voice reached her from the front room. “Every word. I got it wrote down.”
Charity sat back in her chair. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me, either, but Miles says he has to keep me here until he can untangle the facts.”
She rose and set the basin down. “You need to rest. I’ll be back later.” She turned her head toward the door and raised her voice a tad. “If the sheriff will let me.”
“I’ll let you,” Flint called out. “In fact, I might need you to bring us both something to eat from Maybelle’s if Miss Hannah refuses to feed me.”
She paused at the cell door and then returned to the chair. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. “Dale, may I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”
Dale lay on the cot with one hand tucked behind his head. Why didn’t he tell Charity about Gwendolyn? The only reason that kept prodding him was he’d also have to tell her—
“Dale, you want another cup of coffee?”
Dale groaned. Two nights of sleeping on the lumpy cot and drinking Miles’s coffee hadn’t improved his mood. He called back to Miles. “Is it Maybelle’s coffee or yours?”
“You gettin’ picky?”
Dale leaned against the wall of his cell. “I just don’t like coffee that I have to chew.”
The front door of the office opened. The legs of Miles’s chair scraped against the floor. “Mornin’, Simon. Guess I know why you’re here.”
Dale pulled himself up from the cot and came out of the cell that Miles hadn’t bothered to lock. He’d wondered for the past two days how he was going to tell Simon about this.
Simon pulled his hat off and scratched his head. “When I got to the mill this morning and there wasn’t anyone there, I knew something was wrong. Ran into Ned Caldwell, and he told me you and Tate got in a fight and you got arrested.” He peered closer at Dale’s face. “I sure hope you made him look worse.”
Dale gave him a tiny smirk. “I threw the first punch.”
Simon grinned. “Good for you.” He looked at Miles. “You must not consider him too desperate a criminal if you’re leaving his cell unlocked.”
Miles poured coffee into a tin mug and pushed it across the desk toward Simon. “Sit down. I’ll tell you all about it.”
Miles pulled the watch chain out of the drawer and laid it on the desk. “You ever seen this before?”
Simon took at look at the chain and fob. “No.”
Dale poured himself a half cup of coffee and grimaced at the first sip. “I found it in the dirt. I thought it was yours.”
Simon shook his head. “Not mine. Miles, this is the worst coffee I ever tasted.”
Dale watched Simon’s face as he related his side of the story. Other than a raised eyebrow or two, his boss didn’t seem at all surprised.
Simon set his coffee mug on the desk and turned to the sheriff. “I guess it’s time I tell you what I saw three Friday nights ago.”
Dale sat on the edge of the desk while Simon told Miles about hearing a commotion by the Athens road the night of the lynching. “I
recognized Tate’s voice.”
Miles tilted backward in his chair. “What were you doing out there at that time of night?”
“I was going home, and my horse threw a shoe. Pulled up lame. I couldn’t ride him, and I knew I’d never make it to town before dark walking, so I made camp.”
Dale watched Miles roll the story over in his mind.
“Hmm. I believe you, but that doesn’t prove Dale’s innocent.”
“How long you going to keep my foreman in jail?”
Dale looked at the sheriff, very interested to know the answer to that question.
“Unless I can find proof that Dale didn’t steal the chain, I’m gonna have to keep him here till the circuit judge comes around again.” Miles sent Dale an apologetic look. “That won’t be for another two weeks.”
“Two weeks!” Dale slid off the corner of the desk and thrust his arms out at his sides, immediately regretting the action. He rubbed his sore ribs.
Simon stood and nodded at Dale. “Appears like you need to rest up anyway.” He picked up his hat. “Can I bring you anything?”
Dale snorted. “Some decent coffee.”
Dale sat across the desk from Miles, concentrating on the chessboard and munching on the sugar cookies Charity had brought earlier. “I hope you don’t have plans for this queen.” He slid his bishop diagonally and captured the sheriff’s key piece.
Miles blew out through pursed lips. “Can’t you let me win just one game?”
Dale grinned. “I will if you let me out of here.”
“I might just lock that cell and—”
The office door creaked open, and a thin black woman tapped on the doorframe. “All right iffen I come in?”
Miles eyed her. “Come on in. What do you need?”
Brides of Georgia Page 43
