The Bride's Prerogative

by Davis, Susan Page

  Cyrus Fennel and the Walkers did not attend. Isabel maintained her father was laid out by the shock of finding Milzie’s body. That seemed a bit lily-livered for a strapping big man who’d seen a great deal of life, but Libby didn’t question her. Isabel stood on the other side of Gert, stiff and stony-faced.

  “I’m surprised Mrs. Walker didn’t come,” Apphia murmured to Libby when her husband finished his homily.

  “Cloudy,” Libby whispered back. She didn’t like stretching the truth, but she considered saying unkind things about people to be a worse trespass than covering their pride with a white lie. The truth was, Orissa Walker never admitted the existence of people like Milzie. If the old widow ever entered the emporium while she was shopping, Orissa ignored her and checked out as soon as possible with a twitching nose. Libby knew for a fact that the preacher had asked her to help lay out Milzie’s body, and Orissa had made an excuse, so he’d gotten Annie Harper instead. It made Libby sad, but people don’t change their ways easily. When Apphia got better acquainted with Mrs. Walker, she would probably understand why the mayor’s wife didn’t attend this funeral.

  As the Reverend Mr. Benton began his benediction, large raindrops splatted down on the women’s bonnets. Apphia ran up her black umbrella and stepped closer to Phineas to shelter him as he prayed. Libby opened her pearl gray sunshade—an extravagance she couldn’t resist when it came in a shipment of new ladies’ wear from St. Louis. It was a perfect match for her best gray dress. She edged closer to Gert to share its meager cover. In her gray silk, with black gloves and a hat she’d snatched off the millinery shelf this morning, she considered that she’d perhaps overdressed for Milzie’s funeral. How she’d starved for places to wear pretty clothes these last few years! At least they had church now. She could wear the outfit again on Sunday and even change her gloves and hat for something less somber.

  The people around her said a hearty “Amen,” and she jerked her eyes open. Shame on her for letting her thoughts meander to fashions during prayer. The congregation broke ranks and swarmed toward the schoolhouse. Those who had umbrellas walked slower. The men clapped their hats on and ran, leaving the open grave for their attention after the downpour.

  The mourners’ state ranged from damp to drenched by the time all crowded inside, and Hiram immediately went to the stove and laid a fire. The assembly being about a third of the one at Bert’s funeral, Libby judged that they would have plenty of food. All of the women had brought at least one dish, and they far outnumbered the men. The Ladies’ Shooting Club had turned out to the last woman. Gert and Apphia had made sure all the ranchers’ wives were notified. As a result, the luncheon dishes were nearly as varied as at the last funeral. With fewer males eager to eat it, the ladies could enjoy a leisurely feast and visit.

  While the rain drummed on the roof, they dished up the food and settled in to do it justice. The men gravitated to one side of the schoolroom, and the women claimed the other side without protest.

  Libby noted that Bitsy, Vashti, and Goldie wore cloaks she’d ordered in recently—black satin lined in jewel tones. They had an air of parrots in crows’ feathers, as their bright skirts peeked out from beneath the somber folds of the cloaks. As the room warmed, they soon laid their wraps aside, and the saloon girls again displayed their bright plumage.

  Gert wore the dark blue wool dress she wore to church on all but the hottest days. Again Libby wished she could dress the young woman in something more attractive. Apphia’s two-piece lilac dress might be slightly outmoded by Boston standards but was far more stylish than the baggy cotton or woolen housedresses most of the women wore.

  Libby joined in the conversation that burgeoned around her. At first the women talked about Milzie and what a shame it was she’d died.

  “Did you see the dress Mrs. Adams gave us to lay her out in?” Annie asked Starr Tinen. “No. I’ll bet it was pretty.”

  Libby felt her color rise. She hadn’t intended for anyone else to know about that. Gert had come to her early that morning, explaining that Milzie’s clothing was so caked in blood and soil that she couldn’t get it clean. With hardly a second thought, Libby had drawn her to the racks of ready-made clothing and helped her choose a dark cotton dress. She wished now she’d done more for Milzie in life. Why had they all held back? Of course they’d suspected the old woman would take advantage of their kindness, and perhaps she would have. But did that matter? What did God expect of them when a neighbor lacked for decent clothes?

  “Does anyone know whether the sheriff has caught the killer yet?” Starr asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Annie said. “Gert, do you know anything new?”

  Across the room, the men had talked cattle and water rights, but during the lull before Gert answered, Libby heard one of them say, “—cold-blooded killer.”

  Several voices rose at once.

  “Sheriff, when are you going to make an arrest?” That sounded like Micah Landry.

  “Folks in town are scared out of their socks,” said Oscar Runnels.

  Ezra Dyer jumped up off his bench, knocking Oscar’s plate out of his hand.

  “Sheriff, you’ve got to do something, and I’m not whistlin’ Dixie. You got to find out who’s doin’ the killin’ around here.”

  Ethan stared at the old man and held out one hand toward him. “Now, Mr. Dyer, settle down. I’m doing everything I can to find out who’s responsible for this.”

  “Well, what about the other crimes?” Micah Landry asked. “We still don’t know who killed Thalen or who attacked Griff Bane in broad daylight.”

  “Yeah,” Oscar chimed in. “And don’t forget the fire at the Paragon. Mrs. Adams could have been toasted, and you ain’t found out who did that yet either.”

  “Hold on now,” Ethan said, but half a dozen voices drowned him out.

  Only Griffin was able to bring silence, when he rose from his seat and towered over them.

  “All o’ ya’s, shut up!”

  Ethan was grateful for the quiet that followed but wished he had a voice as authoritative as the blacksmith’s.

  “The fella who robbed me was a big man.” Griffin peered around at the others from beneath his bushy brows, as though daring them to contradict. “I don’t think it was anyone from in town. I’d have recognized him. If he hadn’t sneaked in and got the jump on me, I’d have had him. And then Milzie would be alive.” He clenched his meaty hands. “I take that kinda personal.”

  Ethan stood and set his tin plate down. “Gentlemen, I’m with Griffin. I take it personally, too. I think every man in Fergus needs to take this personally. Because the next person who’s clobbered or robbed or burned out of his house could be any one of us.” He pulled in a deep breath. Everyone in the room, including the twenty or so women, hung on his words. He made a quick decision and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “I’d like to make an announcement. I wish the mayor was here, but two members of the town council are with us, so I guess that’s good enough.”

  “What is it?” Ezra asked.

  “I’m going to deputize two or three men to help me find the killer. I’ll spend my time working on it until we run him down.”

  “I’d be honored to help you, Sheriff,” Griffin said. “Thank you.”

  The others clamored to be deputized. Ethan held up both hands. “Easy, now. I need men who can help me patrol the town at various times of day and night. So far, all the crimes have taken place in town.”

  “Not my oatmeal cake that got stolen off the windowsill,” Laura Storrey called.

  Ethan winced. “There have been some smaller crimes both in town and out in the countryside.” He had his ideas about that—especially since Libby had admitted she was certain Milzie had stolen from her. But the thought of Milzie bludgeoning Bert Thalen was ridiculous, and she certainly hadn’t beaten herself to death. “I’m not sure those incidents are related to the more serious crimes. Folks, I’m asking you to be patient. Give me three good men to help me. The town might want to con
sider some small compensation for their time.”

  “You can’t guarantee it’ll do any good,” Oscar said.

  “That’s true, I can’t. But I hope we’ll catch this man. And I think we have a better chance if everyone is careful. Don’t go out alone at night. Lock your doors. Don’t leave your womenfolk alone.”

  The men looked at each other. Some nodded, and others just frowned.

  “I’ll accept Mr. Bane’s offer of help,” Ethan said. He shot a quick glance toward Hiram, but his best friend shook his head almost imperceptibly. That was all right. Hiram would help him whether he wore a badge or not. “I also thought I’d ask Zachary Harper. He’s not here today, but—”

  Annie Harper shoved her stool back and stood. “Sheriff, maybe you’d ought to consider who’s here supporting Milzie Peart today. And who came to your office not long ago offering their help.”

  Ethan felt an annoying tickle at the back of his neck. He took a deep breath. “That’s also true, ma’am. You ladies have done a superb job of escorting the schoolchildren for the last week or so, and also of checking up on some of the widows and elderly folks. I appreciate that.”

  “Well, we ladies are behind you,” Annie said. “But we want to see some results.”

  Gert stood up.

  No, Ethan pleaded silently. Not you, Gert.

  “Sheriff, we’d like to extend our offer again. The women of the Ladies’ Shooting Club of Fergus will help you in any way we can. Just tell us where you can best use our assistance, and we’ll be there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Aw, now that’s just foolishness,” Micah Landry protested. “Sheriff, why do you let them waste all that lead, anyway?” Ezra Dyer asked.

  Across the room, Emmaline stood. “You sit down,” Micah shouted.

  Emmaline glared back at him. “Sheriff, we women are not only willing; we’re prepared. We all have weapons, and we’ve trained ourselves to use them. Which is more than we can say about some of the men in this here town.”

  “Ha! Most of those weapons are our weapons,” her husband yelled.

  Vashti jumped up and stood on her bench, momentarily showing a shapely leg as far up as her garters. “Sheriff, you’ve got more than two dozen pretty good shots right here in this room, and I’m talking about this side of the room.”

  The men erupted in angry shouts. Ethan wasn’t sure what to do. He could pull his pistol and fire a round into the ceiling, but then they’d have to fix the leak in the schoolhouse roof. Micah lunged toward him, and Ethan tried to retreat a step but tripped over his bench and sprawled backward, taking Oscar with him. Griff took a swing at Micah. The town threatened to go to pieces without the aid of the skulking killer, until a shrill whistle pierced the air.

  Everyone froze for an instant. People cringed and swiveled toward the sound. Hiram sheepishly lowered his fingers from his mouth and shrugged. Griff bent toward Ethan and offered him a hand up.

  “Folks, listen to the sheriff,” the blacksmith shouted.

  Ethan flexed his arm and rubbed the elbow he’d hit going down. “Thanks, Griff. Hiram. Let’s all settle down and talk about this reasonably.”

  Hiram and Griffin immediately took their seats, and the other men slowly complied, grumbling a bit as they did. Behind Ethan, the swishing of skirts told him the ladies had resumed their positions as well.

  “All right. Here’s the way I see it. We have the best chance of catching the killer if we’re all alert and careful. Griffin, I’ll deputize you, Oscar, and Zach. You all live in town and can give a few hours a day.”

  Oscar nodded, and Griffin said, “Sure can.”

  “Good. And Griff, maybe you can make some stars for the three of you. I haven’t found any extras over to the jailhouse.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Now, we men can take turns patrolling in town during the night, but as you all know, most of these crimes have taken place before nightfall. So be careful.” He swung around to look at the women. “Ladies, we’ll continue your daytime patrols in pairs.” Everyone remained quiet, and he felt the pressure lift from his chest. “Thank you all. I appreciate your willingness. Mrs. Harper, will you please tell your husband I’d like his aid?”

  “I surely will,” Annie said. “But aren’t you going to deputize any of us women?”

  Ethan’s adrenaline surged again. Was there any good way to answer that? His gaze met Gert’s, and her gray blue eyes bored into him—eager, passionate, and expecting him to do the right thing.

  “I … guess I could do that. Miss Dooley, we appreciate all you ladies’ willingness, but I’ll only officially deputize two of you for now. I think you and one other—whoever is your next best shooter.”

  Gert’s eyes narrowed and she gave a slight nod. “That would be Libby Adams or Bitsy Shepard.”

  Libby said hastily, “Thank you, Miss Dooley, and you, too, Sheriff, but my business has kept me so busy lately that I’ll have to decline.”

  Ethan looked at Bitsy. She wore a frothy green dress and a black hat with unnaturally brilliant red and green feathers drooping down over one eye. She threw her shoulders back, which also thrust her bosom out—not that Ethan took special notice.

  “I’d be pleased to assist in this matter, but I’ll have to do my patrolling before the supper hour, due to my business commitments.”

  “Thank you, Miss Shepard. That should work out just fine.” Ethan exhaled and looked around. “It sounds as though the rain has let up. Thank you all for your attention. Those I’ve named, please come over to the jail for the swearing in.”

  The people stirred and stood, talking over the turn of events. Women began packing up their dishes.

  Ethan edged over beside Hiram. “You need me in the graveyard?”

  Hiram shook his head.

  “Thanks. Because I think I’ve got my hands full.”

  On the way out, Ethan caught up with Griffin and tapped him on the shoulder. “Wait up. I want to ask you something.”

  Griffin turned to face him in the muddy school yard.

  “You never found any coins on the floor after that fella robbed you, did you?” Ethan asked.

  “No, he got away with my little stash.”

  Ethan put his hand up to the back of his neck and rubbed his damp hair. “I still can’t figure out why he didn’t take all your money.”

  “Me neither.” Griffin’s dark eyes flickered.

  “But what I was getting at was—did you find any other coins? Ones that might not have been in your cracker tin? A penny on the floor, maybe?”

  “Nope. I don’t think so.”

  Ethan nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s all right. I just wondered. Say, how do you feel about taking one of the deputized ladies with you while you patrol?”

  Griffin frowned. “You were in a bit of a squeeze there, weren’t you? I suppose we can’t get out of it, and if they went around on their own and got hurt, you’d never hear the end of it, would you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” Ethan gulped. “I was thinking of sending Bitsy Shepard out with you for a couple of hours.”

  “Suits me,” Griffin said. “Bitsy’s all right. It’s a good thing you didn’t pick any of those young girls though.”

  “Yeah, I figured Gert’s position as head of the shooting club made her a logical choice, and I let her pick the second woman. Gert’s pretty levelheaded.”

  “She is,” Griffin said.

  Gert came out of the schoolhouse with Mr. and Mrs. Benton. Both ladies carried their empty dishes, and the pastor toted his big Bible and a black umbrella. Griffin’s gaze lingered on them, and a protest reared up in Ethan’s breast. Was Griffin looking at Gert and seeing Trudy? Naw. Griff was thirty-five—more than ten years older than Gert. Yet no one would look down on a woman in her mid-twenties who married an older man. Look at Libby Adams. Her husband must have been at least a decade older than her. Ethan did some quick mental ciphering. Near as he could tell, Gert was about five years y
ounger than he was, and that seemed ideal to him.

  He rubbed his scruffy jaw. Where had those thoughts come from, anyway? Gert had lived in Fergus for eight years, and no one had courted her. Why should he think every man got the idea at once? Maybe because his own feelings toward her had changed?

  Griffin moved away. “All right, I’ve got to stop by the livery and make sure the team for the afternoon coach is ready, but I’ll be over to the jail in a little while.”

  Gert walked to where Ethan stood with the mud oozing over the toes of his boots.

  “Care if I walk with you, Ethan? Hiram’s going to fill in the burial plot now. I told him to wait till things dry up a little, but he doesn’t want to go off and leave the grave open.”

  “Sure, that’s fine.” He’d almost ridden out here this morning but left Scout in Hiram’s corral after he learned his friends were walking. It wasn’t all that far back to the center of town. Phineas Benton invited several of the ladies to ride back with him and his wife. The preacher had made some sort of agreement with Griffin about the regular use of a wagon and horse.

  Gert waved and spoke to everyone who passed them.

  “Nice sermon, Reverend,” Ethan said as Pastor Benton and his wagonload of ladies lumbered by. Soon he and Gert were more or less alone, walking steadily and dodging puddles.

  “Thank you for treating us womenfolk as equals,” Gert said.

  “Oh well …” No point in saying they wouldn’t quite be equals, and he didn’t want the ladies out patrolling in the middle of the night. He’d deal with that later if he had to. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about the murders,” she said.

  “Still think Cy did it?” Ethan smiled at her.

  “You think it’s funny.”

  “No, I just don’t think it’s feasible.”

  “Big word for a cowboy.”

  “Cowboy turned lawman.”