“Is the whole thing going to go?”
“Maybe. A big stack of oat sacks was burning when I got here, and it’s caught on the inside wall now. We’re hoping we can lick it, but it will be close.” As Ethan spoke, he plunged a filthy, ragged blanket into the tub. He lifted it and squeezed out enough water to keep from wasting much on his way back to the blaze. Hefting the heavy wool, he grinned at her, his teeth brilliant white in his blackened face. “Shoulda known you’d be out here helping.”
“We’re making coffee for all you men,” she called as he turned to go.
He yelled over his shoulder, “Save me some.”
“Get back!” Hiram’s shout rang louder than Gert had ever heard his voice before. Men tore away from the south wall as flames ignited the siding and ripped up the height of the barn on the outside of the wall. The heat intensified, and the fire fighters couldn’t approach the inferno. Suddenly the roof burst into flames.
“Mercy!” Gert turned to find Orissa beside her. Her huge eyes reflected the bright flames in her pinched face.
Gert sidled closer to her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Walker.”
Orissa turned her face into Gert’s shoulder and sobbed.
“Soak the roofs of these houses,” Ethan shouted. “If the empty buildings catch, the whole town will go.”
A ring of men stayed as close around the barn as they could bear, smothering embers that reached the ground. The light wind favored them by sending its occasional gentle breath southward, not directly toward Main Street. The men carried bucket after bucket to the back of the feed store, the Wells Fargo office, and the vacant storefront between them. While others climbed onto the roofs to slosh the water over the vulnerable shingles, Hiram and Griffin began to carry buckets to the back of the emporium. They flooded the back porch of the store and the stairs that led to Libby’s apartment.
“Think we need to do the roof?” Griffin shouted.
Hiram turned and looked toward the barn. Much of the siding had fallen away. The beams stood, outlined in flame, surrounding the high stacks of bagged corn, oats, and wheat. Without question, the whole pile had caught now.
“That fire’s gonna smolder for days,” Hiram said. “We can’t bring enough water to drench the whole thing.”
Griffin nodded. “We need to contain it.”
Orissa sobbed.
Gert tightened her arm around her. “Come on, Mrs. Walker, let’s go inside the emporium. You need to sit down.”
At dawn all agreed the fire was mostly out. Now and then a new plume of smoke found its way out of the charred pile of grain. Ethan posted Deputies Oscar Runnels and Zach Harper to a two-hour shift to make sure the fire didn’t break out again. Griffin and Hiram would relieve them for the next watch.
Ethan knelt by one of the tubs and immersed his head. Raising it, he stood and shook off the extra water. Someone handed him a towel. After he’d wiped his face, he realized it was Trudy.
“Thanks. Shoulda put apples in there so we could bob for them.” He handed her the grimy towel. The skin on his face hurt as though he had a sunburn.
Mayor Walker plodded toward him and thrust out his hand. “Thanks for all you did, Sheriff.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t stop it sooner.” Ethan looked toward the pile of charred boards and the heaps of ruined grain.
“You did all anyone could.”
Ethan nodded grudgingly. “Thank Miss Shepard, too. She spotted the smoke first. Our patrols paid off tonight. We were able to muster the men quick enough to keep the fire from ripping through town.”
Walker sighed. “I had no idea anything was wrong until Pete Nash’s boy ran over and hammered on my door. I stayed home last night—had a little headache.” He put his hand to his temple, as though that were evidence that he’d been ill enough to dodge prayer meeting.
Ethan glanced at Trudy, who stood silently beside him holding the towel. “I hoped we could save the building and maybe some of the grain.”
“I surely wish this had happened before Oscar brought in that big new shipment yesterday.” Walker sighed and looked back at the ruins of the barn. “You’re sure this was deliberate?”
“Pretty sure,” Ethan said. “When I first got there, I could tell it started right in the front corner, not far from the door. I think he dumped oil or something like that over the full sacks on that side of the barn. I had hopes….” He rubbed the back of his sore neck. “Well, no sense wishing now. But when it’s cooled off, I want to poke through the ashes on that corner and see if we find any oil cans or anything like that.”
Mrs. Walker came out the back door of the emporium and shrieked, “Charles! Charles, are you all right?”
The mayor gritted his teeth and staggered toward her. “I’ll live, Orissa. Don’t discompose yourself now.”
“Oh, Charles, you’ve lost all your inventory.”
“There, now. We’ve still got the store and our home. This is a great loss, but we’ll get by.”
Orissa’s sobs rose, and he patted her shoulder.
“I’d best walk them home,” Ethan said to Gert. “The mayor may have overdone it a little tonight.”
“Sure.” Gert turned troubled gray eyes on him. “Libby’s set up coffee and whatever the other ladies brought for breakfast inside the store: sandwiches, gingerbread, doughnuts, biscuits. All the men can go in the back door, get their eats, and head out the front. But I was hoping you’d come to our place later so we could talk about this.”
Ethan smiled down at her. “I’ll be there. Soon as I get the Walkers home safe.”
She hesitated then said, “Look around their house, won’t you, Ethan? If the killer set that fire, it’s possible he did it to draw people away while he busied himself at something else.”
“We think alike.” He had a sudden desire to touch her, to hold her in his arms, but that was preposterous. He was covered with soot. Besides, half the town milled about, and the sun had risen and illuminated the people in all their filthy exhaustion. The light breeze whistling down the hills brought anything but romance.
“Come on.” He nodded toward Libby’s back door.
Fifteen minutes later, after the mayor had consumed a sandwich and listened to the commiseration of a score of people, Ethan set out with him and Orissa. As they walked up the street, Orissa said, “It’s a wonder the store and the old grocery didn’t catch.”
“Sure is. A real nine days’ wonder.” Her husband’s voice was threadier than usual.
“Your throat sore?” Orissa asked. “Yes. All that smoke.”
“You’d both best wash up and go to bed for a few hours,”
Ethan said. They came to the dooryard, and he stopped. “Did you lock up when you left the house?”
The mayor scowled at him. “Lock up? Never do.”
“Well, then, just let me take a look around before you go in.”
“You think—”
“I don’t think anything.” Ethan shot a glance at Mrs. Walker’s sharp features. “I just want to be sure it’s safe.”
He walked slowly to the front steps. Nothing seemed amiss, and the door was shut. He mounted the steps to the porch and reached out for the knob but stopped. Something caught his eye on the mat at his feet. He bent and picked it up, running his finger along the smooth edge. He didn’t take time to examine it closely. No use getting the Walkers all upset. He opened the door and went inside.
Ethan walked through the entire house, room by room. So far as he could see, nothing was out of place. Mrs. Walker was a persnickety housekeeper. It would have been easy to see if someone had rifled the place.
At last he went out and called to them, “Seems all right. You can come in.”
“Sheriff, what’s the meaning of this?” Charles Walker said as he puffed up the steps. The fire had singed off half his eyebrows, and his bald spot held a sprinkling of sweat drops.
“Just checking,” Ethan said.
“Do you think the same person set the fire tonight as set
the one at the Paragon?” Orissa stared at him through narrowed eyes.
“I don’t know, but it’s possible. I wanted to be sure the arsonist wasn’t up to other mischief while we were all over at the fire.”
“Good thinking, son.”
Ethan smiled grimly. The mayor had never called him that before. He wondered if they’d still replace him if he didn’t unmask the killer in the next twelve days.
“Well, good night, folks. We’ll keep watch at the warehouse, and I’ll be sleeping at the jail tonight. If you need me, you’ll know where to find me.”
“Sure enough.” The mayor wheezed in through the doorway.
“Thank you, Sheriff.” Orissa followed him.
Ethan strolled slowly down the street. The stench of smoke still hovered. People exited the emporium in clusters. Through the front window, he could see Florence, Ellie Nash, and Bitsy helping Libby straighten up. Peter Nash and Augie Moore stood to one side talking with cups in their hands.
Ethan stood for a moment watching until he was reasonably sure the Dooleys weren’t in there. He ambled on down the street toward their house. The Nugget was quiet, and the whole north end of the street lay subdued. No piano music, no laughter this morning. The sun eased up above the houses and the livery stable. He followed the path around to the back door of Hiram’s house and knocked.
“There you are.” Trudy stood in the doorway with her hair all loose about her shoulders and a spotless white apron over her blue dress. Ethan’s throat ached, not from the night of breathing in fumes, but from the sight of her, so calm and content, waiting for him.
“Sorry I’m so filthy.”
“Come in. I put Hiram in the bathtub, and when he’s done, you can have a turn. I’ve got more water on the stove.”
Ethan started to say there was no need but abandoned that notion. If he’d ever needed a bath in his life, it was now.
He followed her inside. She turned and leaned against her worktable with her arms folded across her chest, saying nothing but watching him. The light streamed in the window behind her, sending little glimmers off her hair. It looked almost golden, not the flat straw color he usually registered when he looked at her.
Her eyes crinkled. “What?”
“Nothing. Just … I appreciate it. Seems to me you hauled a lot of water in the last few hours.”
“We all did.”
“Well, you needn’t have done more for me.”
“Hiram carried most of the bathwater.” She turned to the stove and picked up the steaming coffeepot. “Did you get coffee at Libby’s?”
“I did, but I wouldn’t be against having more. My throat still tickles.”
She poured him a cup, and he took it from her. He didn’t want to sit down with his trousers crusted in soot and grime, so he leaned against the edge of the sturdy pine table.
“Thank you, Trudy.”
She smiled. “I’m glad I can do it.”
He took a sip and savored it. “Did I ever tell you, you make good coffee?”
“Seems you might have.” She waited a moment then raised her chin. “So tell me, who set the fire?”
Ethan dug his hand into his pocket and brought it out again. “Whoever left this on the Walkers’ doormat.”
She caught her breath and reached for the penny. “Eighteen-sixty-six?”
“You tell me. I didn’t want them to see it, so I didn’t look yet.”
She took it over to the window and bent close. Her hair took on more golden highlights, and her face glowed. How could he ever have thought she was plain?
“That’s the year, all right.” She straightened and held it out to him.
Ethan took the penny, flipped it in the air, caught it, and returned it to his pocket. “Anyone could have gone over and left that on the doorstep while we were all at the fire.”
She nodded slowly. “Or before he went to the fire.”
Ethan raised his eyebrows. “I hadn’t considered the mayor a suspect before. But you’re right. He could have done it. He skipped church last night.” He smiled ruefully. “I was about to embrace your theory, you know.”
“Cyrus?” Her brows arched like the wings of a soaring hawk.
He nodded. “He went late to the prayer meeting.”
“Yes, I saw him come in after the first couple of hymns.”
“Bitsy and I met him on the street. He’d just come out of his office, and we hadn’t spotted the fire yet. That fire must have been started at least several minutes before we saw it. By that time, it was putting out a lot of smoke.” Ethan drained his coffee cup.
“So Cyrus could have set it and then gone back to his office.” Trudy drew in a deep breath. “What now, Ethan?”
“I don’t know. Most of the men in town have nearly as shaky alibis. Someone could have set that fire twenty minutes before church time. Just got it going and walked away. Or even ten minutes before time for the prayer meeting.”
“And then showed up to help put it out when you and Bitsy sounded the alarm.”
“Sure.” He wagged his index finger at her. “So you be careful, won’t you, now? I don’t want anything happening to you.” He touched the tip of her nose.
Her eyelids lowered as she looked at his finger. He drew it back and winced.
“Sorry. My hands are still dirty.”
She smiled. “I’ll be careful.”
Hiram appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room in his stocking feet, wearing a clean plaid shirt and shabbily comfortable trousers. “Well, Eth, how’s everything?” He scrubbed at his damp hair with a clean towel.
Ethan laughed. “Fine, just fine.”
Hiram spread his arms, indicating his outfit. “Gert made me put on all clean clothes, even though I haven’t been to bed.” He shook his head. “Women.”
“Oh, hush,” Trudy said. “You can’t sleep all day. There’s too much to do. To start with, you can carry that pan of hot water into your bedroom and heat up the tub for Ethan. I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s even filthier than you were half an hour ago.”
Hiram grinned. “Good thing I had the first bath.”
Ethan picked up the potholders Trudy had left on the work counter and turned to the stove. “I’ll get it. But I don’t have any clean clothes to put on.”
“I put out a shirt for you,” Hiram said. “Don’t think my britches would fit you though.”
“Thanks.” Ethan winced. “I’ve got a few things at the jail. Should have brought them.”
“I can run over there for you,” Hiram said.
“I appreciate that. What all do you two need to do today?”
“It’s Isabel’s opening day,” Trudy said. “I promised her six pies by noon, and Hiram’s going to take another turn on watch over at the fire.”
“That’s right. So you think Isabel will go ahead and open, what with all the excitement over the fire?”
Trudy shrugged. “The stagecoach will still come in at quarter to noon, fire or no fire.”
“True. Well, I’ll get in the tub. Meanwhile, Trudy, you tell your brother what I found over at the Walkers’.” When he turned around with the steaming pan of water in his hands, Hiram was stifling his laughter, but Trudy nodded at him with a complacent, wistful smile.
“I’ll do that while I make my pie crust.”
Hiram winked at him. “Don’t forget to wash behind your ears.”
CHAPTER 32
Gert packed two pies in the bottom of her large carrying basket. She took a light wooden platform Hiram had built for the purpose and carefully fitted it over them, lowering the legs between the pie plates. On top of this she put two more pies.
“There. If you can carry the other two …”
“Oh yes.” Apphia Benton put one of the remaining pies in a smaller basket and picked up the other. “Ready?”
Together they went out Gert’s back door and around the path to the boardwalk.
“Thanks for helping.” Gert felt a twinge
of guilt at asking her morning caller to lend her a hand. “It would have taken me at least two trips alone, and I’m dead tired.”
“You poor thing,” Apphia said. “At least my husband and I got a few hours’ sleep after the fire was out.”
“Well, I’d promised Isabel, and she’s just starting to act friendly to me and some of the other ladies. I didn’t want to give her an excuse to back off, even if I had to hurry things up and used canned fruit for two of the pies.”
“They’ll be delicious, I’m sure.” Apphia smiled at her. “I’m glad Isabel’s venture has gone so well, but not pleased that it means even more work for her, poor woman.”
Gert had to agree. Word that the boardinghouse was reopening had already led to the rental of both bedrooms the women had helped renovate. Now her father demanded that she open up four more rooms. All passengers, as well as the stagecoach drivers and shotgun riders, must know that clean, comfortable rooms at a respectable lodging house were now available in Fergus.
“In the old days, folks didn’t care much where they slept,” she said. “Hiram told me the miners coming through town would sleep five or six to a room at the boardinghouse. But nowadays people think they should have a nice room to themselves, like they would at a hotel in the city.”
“And Mr. Fennel is taking advantage of that.”
“No surprise to me.” Gert looked over at the minister’s wife. “I don’t mean to speak ill of Mr. Fennel. I suppose most would say he’s done a lot for this town. He’s stuck around here since the boom days and through the bust. He mined for gold and ran the assay office; then he bought a ranch and got the stage line’s business through these parts. He’s had a hand in most of the enterprises in Fergus. Now he’s just turning his hand to a new vocation. He’ll make it succeed.”
“He will, or his daughter?” Apphia shook her head. “Seems to me that Isabel’s doing all the work.”
“True. Her pa bankrolls it, but she’s seen to the labor.”
“And her friends have helped her.” Apphia’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure we’re doing Isabel a good turn. The more we help her for free, the more her father will let us.”
“I know.” Gert sighed. “Hiram won’t do any more without being paid. Not for Isabel. She’s going to pay me for my pies after today, and I know she’s paying Augie for his cooking, too. I keep telling myself not to go over and help her scrub anymore, but then I think of her trying to do it all herself, and I feel sorry for her.”
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