He held out his hand.
“I believe you, Eliza. So why don’t you tell me what really happened back there in Bozeman.”
Although Eliza had told him all she knew, Trent sensed there was more to the story. He believed she withheld nothing, but all the pieces just didn’t fit. His instincts had always served him well, so he didn’t discount his hunch.
Eliza didn’t do it. He knew that in his heart. So all he had to do now was prove who did.
Trent hugged his daughter and promised her he’d be home by Christmas Eve. Mrs. Guntherson, the real Mrs. Guntherson, took charge of Addy. Now that his girl didn’t see the older woman as a threat to Eliza, she had warmed up to her nicely.
“I’ll have the tree all decorated by the time you get back.” Her heavy accent changed the into zee.
“I’ll help!” cried Addy.
Mrs. Guntherson shook her head. “No. Children don’t help. That’s sure.”
Trent smiled. It was exactly what his mother would have said. Addy would not see the tree until the grand moment when the doors to the parlor slid back to reveal the tannenbaum alive with a hundred white candles ablaze. Trent wondered, if next year, Eliza might perform the duty for them. His heart swelled with hope, but he pushed it back.
No woolgathering; he had work to do.
Addy hid her disappointment well as she kissed Eliza and clutched her dad about his neck, whispering in his ear.
“You’ll find out who’s telling big lies about Miss Flannery?” she asked.
“Yes, kitten. I sure will.”
Trent had sent Joey to the telegraph office to send word to the sheriff of Bozeman to expect them. If all went well they’d be there by supper. The railroads certainly were a wonder.
He waved goodbye, lifted the reins and gave them a snap. They were off. The ride to Butte was smooth and clear. If it hadn’t been for the threat looming over them, he might have enjoyed having Eliza snuggled up close to him beneath the blanket.
At the station, Trent paid for their tickets and a one-way passage from Bozeman to Butte then handed both to Eliza.
“Now if you see that same conductor, you show them the one you ‘misplaced.’”
She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. His face heated. Trent offered his arm and led Eliza to the platform. The arriving train was something to see, with smoke streaming from the engine and steam from the wheel brakes blasting across the platform like a horizontal geyser.
Once aboard, Trent asked Eliza to tell him her story again. When she’d finished he asked his question.
“How did the cook know to pack your bag?”
“She was trying to be sure I wasn’t arrested.”
“And she was the one who told you about the last companion’s arrest.”
She nodded. “Yes. It frightened me half to death. They didn’t believe a word of her denial. And how, may I ask you, is it possible to prove you did not do something?”
He nodded, gazing out the window. “How indeed?”
Trent assisted Eliza from the sled. He did not let her go as he escorted her into the city offices of Bozeman, and if he noted her trembling he did not mention it. Sheriff Jethro Carlson stood as they entered. At first he looked like a moving mountain with broad shoulders and a considerable paunch. However, when he came out from behind his desk, his spindly legs made him look like a large potato on stilts. He shook Trent’s hand and then briefly clasped hers.
“I thank you both for coming in. I’ve got a murder trial, starts day after Christmas, so I’ll say up front this case isn’t my first concern.” He motioned them to a pair of spindle-backed chairs beside his desk. “Mind the splinters. One of my prisoners gouged the seat with the shackles and I haven’t had it sanded out yet.”
Eliza froze a moment, then sank gingerly into the chair. She found it a struggle not to shift beneath his stare.
He focused his watery eyes on her. “So I’m wondering why you’d run instead of coming in right off?”
Eliza’s chin sank to her chest and all the air left her lungs. When she had drawn another breath she spoke, but kept her eyes firmly pinned on her folded hands. “I was afraid of being thrown in jail.”
“Innocent people don’t think that way.”
“Yet it happened to my predecessor, Miss Gram. Her innocence did not help her so why should I believe I would find justice here?”
“That was her choice. She could have disputed the charge. But leastwise, she didn’t run.”
“No, because you sent her to prison.”
“Prison? What the Sam Hill do you mean? She settled.”
“Settle?” Eliza parroted. “Is that what you call being led away in shackles? Flora told me all about it.”
Trent lifted a hand to stop her.
“Gram wasn’t convicted?” asked Trent.
Eliza freed her skirt from the chair and leaned forward to hear the sheriff’s reply.
Carlson lifted a pencil from his drawer and used the point to scratch behind his left ear. “Miss Gram said she didn’t do it, but we found the money in her room so she agreed to make reparations.”
“Hard to prove you didn’t do something,” said Trent, his gaze on Eliza.
“’Specially when you’re holding the goods. Trouble is the thefts didn’t stop.”
“You catch the real culprit?”
“Not exactly. But I’m getting damned tired… Oh, excuse me, ma’am. I’m getting real tired of dragging my…self out to Mrs. Holloway’s house every time she misplaces a hair comb.”
“Anything go missing since Miss Flannery’s flight?”
She wished heartily that Trent had said disappearance or absence. He made her seem more fugitive than ever.
“Yes. First she misplaced some fancy jewelry case. We found it inside the piano. The money she reported stolen was tucked inside a Bible, some of it anyways. As for the jewelry, it hasn’t turned up yet. Neither have the silver grapefruit spoons. And who, in the name of our Lord, needs a special spoon just for grapefruits?”
“What’s your opinion?” asked Trent.
He shrugged. “I called her son. The old girl is getting up there. Maybe forgetful is all. It happens.”
Eliza stiffened. “She is not.”
Both men turned to her, staring. She felt herself shrinking into her seat. Sliding back caused the fabric of her skirt to snag on the rough wood.
“Go on,” coaxed Trent.
“Her memory is flawless. She’s completely coherent and exceedingly bright. And she’s far more organized than I am.”
Mr. Carlson raised a bushy brow. “Then why would she need a companion?”
“For companionship, obviously. Also she can no longer perform some personal tasks because of her eyesight. But she is not, by any stretch of the imagination, losing her faculties.”
Sheriff Carlson smiled. “Just agreeing would have had you off the hook.”
“But it’s not true.”
The men exchanged a look.
Carlson spoke to Trent. “I see why you came in.” Now he turned to Eliza. “How do you explain the recovered items?”
“I can’t. But I know it was not Mrs. Holloway’s doing.”
“The son here yet?” asked Trent.
Carlson nodded. “For several days.”
“Anything go missing?”
“All the butter knives, but he found them in his mother’s knitting bag.”
Trent nodded. “She was set up.”
Carlson’s mouth tipped down at the corners. “Beginning to think so myself. You got a suspect?”
“Yeah, I sure do,” said Trent.
Eliza returned to the office with the sheriff’s deputy to find Trent waiting.
“Well?” he asked.
Eliza opened her reticule. “Just as you suspected, the bills were removed from my purse and, when caught, Flora claimed the money was her life’s savings.”
“What did she say when they showed her that the bills were marked?”
“I don’t know. I was shown out when she began to weep. I hate to see her so wretched,” said Eliza.
“She tried to pin this all on you.”
Eliza nodded. “Yes. The deputy who drove me back led me to believe she has a gambling problem. But I heard her say that she’s building a fence with Mr. Jaffe, the owner of the Golden Spike.”
Trent chuckled. “That he was her fence?”
“That might be it.”
The deputy poked his head back inside, meeting Trent’s eyes. “Sheriff said to get you two to the train. She’s free to go. Sheriff Carlson said thanks.”
Eliza breathed deep, the air somehow suddenly sweeter.
Trent escorted Eliza out and into the carriage that would take them to the train. Once underway, Eliza turned to him.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“She tried a little too hard to get you to run, even packed for you, everything but your money. And she lied about Miss Gram. Then there was the problem of things going missing and later turning up, but they never all turned up, only the things that were easy to trace or of no value.”
Eliza smiled. “You’re so clever. I could kiss you.”
“What’s stopping you?”
She glanced at the deputy who sat before them and lowered her voice.
“Absolutely nothing, Mr. Foerster.”
And with that she slipped into his arms and kissed him on the lips.
Epilogue
Trent waited with Addy and Joey Backer in the hallway outside the closed parlor door. The air was heavy with the wonderful fragrance of roasting ham, potatoes, onions and the cinnamon that had recently been ground over the waiting eggnog resting in his mother’s large punch bowl on the dining-room table.
Mrs. Guntherson was a wizard in the kitchen. With Eliza acting as assistant she had created a Christmas Eve feast that would long be remembered.
Since Trent had made amends with his old deputy, Joey had been a regular at his table, taking his dinner with them rather than at the hotel. What Trent couldn’t figure was whether he was taken with his housekeeper’s cooking or his housekeeper.
“You courting my cook?” he asked.
“That’s a fact,” said Joey. “Besides, the way you’re sparking Miss Flannery, don’t figure you’ll be needing two women in your house for long.” Joey glanced at Addy, who was so excited she jumped up and down before the closed door. “Though you might have need of a cook for a spell.”
Trent thought of the cinnamon buns and winced. Eliza cooked little and badly. But she was a real fast study and picked up everything Mrs. Guntherson taught her. Once Mrs. Guntherson had learned that Eliza’s own mother took little interest in her, she had taken her under her ample wing.
Eliza had mastered rolling a piecrust in one piece. It was a start.
Trent tried to give Joey a stern look. “You best treat her proper.”
He’d never thought the old bachelor was much interested in women. But three days ago he had never seen Joey pull a chair out for a lady or wash a dish. Now he regularly did both.
“Trent, I swear, I’m taken. She’s fetching, isn’t she? Such pretty eyes and a perfect figure.”
“You decide this before or after you tasted her apple strudel?”
“After, but it didn’t sway me. She’s got a warm heart. Woman like that, well, she deserves someone to look after her.”
“Joey, you talking about…”
He nodded solemnly. “Yes, if she’ll have me, I am. And if you’re smart you’ll get a ring round Eliza’s finger right quick. All that spouting about you not being the marrying kind, it’s hogwash. That little girl needs a mama and you sure couldn’t do better than Miss Flannery. Why if I was a little younger—”
Trent raised his hands in submission. “All right, all right.”
Joey stilled. “You asked her?”
“Not yet. But I can’t think of a better night than tonight.”
Joey rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “When? Can I watch ya?”
“Later, and no, you can’t. In fact, I want you out of the parlor just as soon as Mrs. Guntherson calls us to the table.”
“That I sure can do. Shall I bring Addy?”
“Yes.” Trent knelt before Addy. “Remember to go when Mrs. Guntherson leaves.”
Addy quieted and nodded solemnly. The doors slid open. Addy stilled.
“Oooh!” she whispered.
Beyond her, the room was dark except for the golden light pouring from their tree. Mrs. Guntherson stood by the open pocket doors, pressing her back to one to allow them to see beyond her to the evergreen.
Addy rushed past and stood still as stone, staring. Trent found Eliza, smiling proudly beside their first Christmas tree together. He prayed they would have many more. He pictured the room filled with their children all here before them.
Addy found her gift from him hanging on the tree, a doll with a china head, hands and feet from her father. She hugged it to her chest, while still gripping Penelope. Then she ran toward him. He squatted so she could throw her arms about his neck.
“Thank you, Daddy!”
“You be sure Penelope doesn’t get jealous.”
“Oh, no. Penelope loves her, too.”
Addy found Mrs. Guntherson’s addition to the tree—packets of sugared nuts, hung in paper cones, and she gave one to each adult. Joe had added a fat bundle of licorice and it hung awkwardly on a low branch. Addy gave him a kiss in exchange.
Eliza pointed out her gift, hanging from a red hair ribbon.
Addy bounced with joy. “Your thimble! The one your mother gave you.”
“Not mine anymore because I want you to have it.”
Addy hugged Eliza, and Trent had to blink to keep the image from going blurry on him.
Mrs. Guntherson waited for Addy to place her thimble on her finger and then bustled the child out. Eliza tried to follow them, but Trent caught her hand. Joey glanced at Trent. He must have just then recalled Trent’s earlier directions, for he sprang to his feet, dashing out as if his britches were ablaze.
Eliza stared after him with a puzzled expression on her face. “Whatever is the matter with Mr. Backer?”
Trent ignored the question as he drew Eliza toward the tree. “You did a fine job.”
Eliza’s face glowed pale in the candlelight and he thought he’d never seen a more lovely sight.
Trent cleared his throat, his fine speech suddenly forgotten as she turned to face him. He clasped her other hand and swallowed hard. He knew she was the right one, knew he loved her and that his daughter loved her. What he didn’t know was if she’d take him. After all, he’d had some harsh words for her and she’d seen him at his worst. She’d said she forgave him, but…
She glanced toward the hall. “Trent? I need to help serve the meal.”
“I’d like you to stay.”
“All right.” She waited.
“I mean, I want you to stay here with me and with Addy.”
Eliza brightened, but then her smile faded. “You needn’t worry. Mrs. Holloway has offered me my old position back.”
Trent felt suddenly ill.
“Do you want to go back there?”
“No, but you already have a housekeeper.”
“That’s true. But I don’t have a wife.”
She stilled, her voice now breathless. “What?”
He turned to the tree, locating the heart-shaped leather box hanging at eye level. He slipped his index finger through the red satin ribbon of this very special ornament and offered it to her.
“This one is for you.” He flipped open the lid, revealing the red garnet encircled with small sparkling diamonds. He sank to his knee. “My father gave this ring to my mother. She asked me to give it to my bride.”
When she didn’t speak, he removed the ring from its nest and held it out to her.
“I love you, Eliza. Will you be my wife?”
A little line formed between her brows. “I can’t. Not
unless…”
He stood, his heart hammering so loudly he could barely hear her. “Unless?”
“Well, Mr. Foerster, I do have strong feelings for you, and I would like nothing better than to share my life with you and Adeline. But I’d want to be certain that Addy is agreeable.”
Trent’s smile returned, relief and happiness filled him. “I have already broached the subject. She’s over the moon about the possibility.”
Eliza drew a sharp breath. “Truly?”
He nodded.
“Then, Mr. Foerster, I will wed you and be your wife.”
He slipped the ring upon her finger knowing that this was a promise she would keep and a vow he would honor. This woman was loyal and loving. He did not know what he ever did to deserve her, but he’d spend the rest of his life making certain she didn’t regret her decision.
He caught movement from the door and glanced up to see Addy peeking around the edge.
“Did she take the ring, Daddy?”
Eliza held up her left hand to show his daughter. He could feel her holding her breath. He squeezed her other hand in reassurance as Addy’s shriek split the air.
His daughter ran across the room and jumped. Somehow Eliza caught her, taking only one bracing step back. Addy captured Trent about the neck, as well, pulling him in until all three of their foreheads were touching.
“I got what I prayed for,” said Addy. “I asked the baby Jesus to make us a family and he did!”
Trent’s throat constricted. Life had truly blessed him with a lovely bride and wonderful daughter. What more could a man ask for?
Mrs. Guntherson spoke from the hallway. “Dinner is ready.”
Trent lowered Addy to the floor, took Eliza’s hand and followed his daughter, who had already cleared the hallway. Eliza hesitated and he paused to give her a quizzical stare. She glanced upward and he followed the direction of her gaze, finding them standing squarely beneath a sprig of mistletoe.
WEARING THE RANCHER’S RING
Charlene Sands
Dear Reader,
After I wrote Bodine’s Bounty, two female characters’ futures were left to our imagination and I wasn’t entirely sure if there was a story for either of them. Never leave a character’s fate to a blank page is my motto. So, Theresa Metcalf’s journey popped into my head and shortly after, I wrote Taming the Texan.
Western Winter Wedding Bells Page 19
