“Ain’t no one else in here except them mules and this here fancy old horse.” Cord laughed at the way Ringling strained to reach toward the two young women.
“Bye Ringling.” Eula Mae pressed a kiss on the velvet nose.
“He understands everything you say,” Twila marveled.
Eula Mae touched each of the waiting mules as they left. “I’ll come back and bring all of you some kind of treats. Maybe tonight.” She and Twila walked out the door and Cord closed the stable behind them.
“Let’s not give up our search.” She pointed toward the trail that led behind the other buildings of Main Street. “I want to see the whole town. I cannot believe Willadene just disappeared into thin air!”
“Did she say Sweet Jud was dead?”
“Yeah, she didn’t say those exact words, but I’m pretty sure she meant he was dead.” As they walked, Eula Mae peered into every inch of the alleyway, as did the Marshall.
“Will his death affect plans for the harvest festival, do you think?” Twila whispered.
“Probably not… unless some folks want to come to the party and they need to cross on the ferry, maybe.” Eula Mae took a deep breath. “Someone needs to take over the ferry. We have to find Willadene so we can find out what really happened.”
“Well, let’s keep looking, Eula Mae. I sure don’t want anything to keep the celebration from happening. Cord and I want to get married.” Her voice shook. “We want to live in Tulsey Town.”
The trip around the back of the stores yielded nothing. Visits to the three private houses didn’t turn up anything either.
“The ferry now.” Eula Mae led her posse of three toward the creek bank where the ferry raft had been tethered. They paid little attention to the farm wagon being driven toward them.
The farmer who was driving shouted to them. “Where’s the doctor? I gotta see a doctor.” He slowed for their answer.
“He’s at Boudreau’s store, I think,” Eula Mae answered. “He’s a volunteer firefighter and they were putting out a fire there. His office is in back of the drugstore if he has gone from the store.”
The farmer clicked his horse to speed up. “There’s this guy. I think he’s dead.” The man whipped up his horse and the wagon rattled toward town.
Twila, Eula Mae and Cord continued their search for Willadene at the ferry landing.
“Should we have asked him questions?” Twila looked at the Marshall.
“Well, he was in an all fired hurry. He probably wasn’t ready to sit still for a bunch of questions.”
Eula Mae picked up the pace. They simply had to find Willadene.
Chapter 14
The area of the ferry landing yielded no clues. The Marshall searched the soft ground near the dock but he found no footprints that he judged to be those of females.
“Well, let’s go.” Eula Mae felt a deep discouragement at their fruitless search. “Thanks for going along with me, you two. I feel so responsible for Willadene’s disappearance.”
Trudging up the trail toward Tulsey Town the trio of searchers again met the farmer with the wagon who had needed the Doctor badly. Dr. Starr now sat on the wagon seat next to the older man, Ringling trailing behind. At Bartlett’s signal, the wagon owner stopped the wagon’s headlong flight toward the river.
“Where are you headed?” Eula Mae had assumed the farmer had illness or death at home, leading to his need for the doctor.
“Why don’t youall get up in the wagon? I’ll ride Ringling. Mr. Smith here says he’s found a body.”
“My farm runs up against this here river bank a mile or so south of here.” Mr. Smith explained. When the three of them were seated in his wagon, Twila and Eula Mae on the bench seat, the Marshall behind in the bed of the wagon. Now Ringling pranced beside them, Bartlett Starr on his back. “I done seen a person, a man I think, laying face down at the edge of the water. He didn’t move so I figured him to be dead but I thought I better get the Doctor hisself to come and look, just to make sure.”
“Maybe Sweet Jud?” Eula Mae murmured.
The clanking and rattling of the wagon down the rough trail leading south kept them from further discussion.
Eula Mae was sure the body in the river would be that of the ferry operator. “Who else could it be?” she asked herself in an inner dialogue. “No one else has gone missing.”
She felt a momentary touch of the utter despair that Willadene had expressed in the doctor’s office. Was there anything she could have done to keep the little ferryman alive? Not really, she had to answer. She hardly knew the man but she was sorry, if indeed, the body Mr. Smith had spied was that of Sweet Jud. He had been a loving husband and a hardworking man. He didn’t deserve death.
Long before the wagon came to a stop, Eula Mae knew, just knew, the sprawled doll-like figure lying facedown on the muddy bank, was Sweet Jud. He still wore his long underwear and his blue serge suit. His feet, still in their heavy lace up work boots, lay in the river water.
“Oh, that’s Sweet Jud.” Eula Mae couldn’t control her cry. Bartlett nodded agreement. He pushed Ringling ahead of the wagon to slide down from his horse so he could feel the side of the tiny man’s neck.
“Dead,” he pronounced.
“I was pretty sure,” the farmer said, “Else I wouldn’t have just left him here.” He turned the wagon toward his pole barn. “You want to get down here? I’ll go get us a blanket, Doc. Be right back.”
The Doctor and the Marshall gently turned the dead man over. Sweet Jud’s face was covered with mud. Bartlett took a white handkerchief from his pocket and dipped it in the river so he could sponge the thick brown dirt from Sweet Jud’s face. He then closed the still open eyes of the corpse. The stench of death filled the air. Eula Mae and Twila moved to stand more closely together, arms twined about each other.
“Here, got us a army blanket,” Smith braked the wagon and leaped down, a tattered gray blanket over his arm. “We can take him into town in this.”
After they’d wrapped the tiny man in the blanket and laid his body onto the bed of the farm wagon, Bartlett gestured to Eula Mae to indicate she should ride with him so Twila and the Deputy Marshall could share the bench seat with the farmer.
When the solemn procession returned to town, Ringling led the way.
“Go to my office, I guess.” Bartlett’s words could barely be heard over the sounds the wagon made as it rolled onto the deeply rutted Main Street of Tulsey Town.
“I’ll find Willadene,” Eula Mae promised herself. “I haven’t really searched for her.”
Chapter 15
Before Twila came back to the tipi and while she was alone, Eula Mae decided it would be a good time to meditate about what she knew of Willadene and Sweet Jud and their relationship. She sat on the fur wrapped, sweet grass mattress, to try to reach some answers. Writing down and thinking about what she knew about the couple might help her learn even more about them.
Maybe she could fill in the blanks. Maybe she could put the whole puzzle together, somehow. Who had killed Sweet Jud? Where was Willadene? Why had their lives been torn asunder in such a horrid way? Just thinking of poor Sweet Jud’s body sprawled face down in the mud caused an ache in her chest.
She rose to take a pencil and a well-worn copy of Jane Austen’s, Emma from her trunk. Turning to the three blank pages in the back of the book, she began her “Figure Out” list.
Jud and Willadene loved each other.
They were both hard workers who started their own business with only 10 dollars in gold.
Their business became successful.
Willadene is still alive. Maybe.
Where is Willadene?
Sweet Jud was dead. Why?
Who killed Sweet Jud?
She read the list over. Something was missing. She’d just mull over each item and anything else she could come up with about the couple.
Granny had been a great believer in letting the night deliver solutions to problems. Maybe she could dream answe
rs to her questions if she read her list over just before going to sleep! It was worth a try. She slid the book into the space between her mattress and the wall of the tipi. She’d reread her thoughts and questions before they put out the fire that night.
When she left the tipi to attend the festival planning session she realized she felt more hopeful, even happy. Writing always helped, even though paper was hard to come by. She still had her slate in her trunk. She seemed to remember it wrapped in Granny’s striped dress. She could search that out and use that old-school helper when she needed to, rather than defacing her precious books.
Even though the meeting buzzed with an undercurrent of gossip about the ferryboat couple, the group forged ahead with ideas for celebrating Tulsey Town’s existence. A new building that was to be the First Presbyterian Church was in the early stages. Using the floor that had just been laid would give them a solid, neutral ground for talking, eating, drinking and perhaps, dancing. It was time for the community to look forward and begin to make their tiny Indian Territory village into a respectable town.
Building a town was all well and good, but the thought of dancing on that floor with Bartlett Starr, caused Eula Mae’s heart to dance a bit also.
Maybe she could trade a hat for some material to make a new dress? Boudreau’s recent fire and Jesse’s death caused her to firmly put that particular place out of her mind. She’d try the other two mercantiles for her party dress.
* * *
The next week passed in a flurry of hat making as payment for the mercantile owner and a storm of seaming up white lace and pink gingham for herself. Not silk, as she’d hoped, but pink checked gingham was so much more festive than her brown and black calico would have been.
This would be her announcement to the world that she was out of mourning, embracing color, and ready to put flowers on her hat. The days passed quickly with sewing and trimming and fitting.
She and Twila spoke of the party every morning, and each of her nights passed with her “Figure Out List” and a longing for dreamed solutions.
Chapter 16
The day of the Celebration dawned bright and clear, The Indian Territory skies stretched blue and cloudless, high above. Eula Mae ducked back into the tipi, ready to tack the last touch of lace to the sleeves of her ‘just-almost-finished,’ pink-checked gingham gown. She smiled as she sewed.
“Twila, be sure to let me know what you find out about a school for you and a law job for Cord.” She stood to hold the finished dress against her chest for her tipi mate’s approval, which Twila gave with a nod.
“I’m nervous.” Twila crouched to stir the pot of pinto beans that simmered on the stone circle. “I think Cord is nervous, as well. He’s worried that he’ll soon have to go back to Ft. Smith.”
“If old Cord could come up with some answers about Willadene’s disappearance and Sweet Jud’s death, he might impress the town big-wigs. That could make them look kindly on him, right?” Eula Mae reached for the tin plate of breakfast beans that the redhead handed her. “What do you think?”
“Oh, yes. That would do it for sure. Why? Do you have a theory? Or some answers to all our mysteries?” Twila scooped out a plate of pintos for herself. “Are you wanting to share some of your ideas with the Marshall?”
“Well, maybe not just yet.” Eula Mae put her breakfast down on the tipi floor so she could spread her party dress out on the sweet grass mattress. She sat again and reached for her plate. “You think Cord would like to be involved somehow?”
“Oh, helping solve a mystery would cinch it for Cord, and maybe for me as well. Why? Do you have answers?” Twila took a biscuit from the Dutch oven skillet they used for bread making. “You want to divulge some of your secrets?”
“Just tell him to keep his ears open and his eye on me at the celebration.” “Eula Mae picked up her plate to nibble on one of Twila’s ‘drop’ biscuits. “I’m going to see if I can possibly trick someone into coming up with a solution or two.”
“You’re a wonder, my friend. The whole thing still baffles me. I couldn’t even begin to come up with one answer.” Twila took a bite of her biscuit. “Not bad for old ‘drop’ biscuits, maybe, but getting a bag of flour into our kitchen stores is about as far as I can look into the future today. We’re completely out.”
Eula Mae bent to take her black velvet reticule from her trunk and counted out three dimes to hand to her friend.
“My share, if you’re buying the flour,” she murmured as she put her purse away and again took up her breakfast. “This isn’t bad.” She held up the biscuit Twila had put onto her plate. “But I agree, ‘rolled out’ is better.”
After the meal Eula’s plans for confrontation later that evening sent her scurrying out to search for the doctor.
Chapter 17
“I don’t understand the need for Ringling.” Bartlett led Eula Mae into the corral behind the drugstore. “We’re going to be eating and talking, maybe even dancing if the Presbyterians permit it. Why must old Ring come to the party?”
“For one thing, I owe him and the mules. I promised them treats and I haven’t lived up to the promise.” She held up the velvet bag on her wrist. “Now I have sugar cubes for everyone.”
“Oh, of course, Ringling and the three mules are going to hold you to your promise to them.” He grinned and smoothed her pink checked sleeve. “I’ll bet the animals would all like to see you in your new dress, also. But the party is less than two blocks away. Why must Ringling attend the affair?” He surveyed her face with care. “Are you wanting to ride him to the celebration?”
“No Bartlett. I’d just like to have him go along with us. He might be useful.”
Eula Mae offered a cube of sugar from her palm to each of the mules as she apologized to them for overlooking her promise. The mules crowded into each other to try to gain an advantage with the treat giver.
“Two cubes each,” she warned them. “More sugar wouldn’t be good for you, so no use shoving each other around. This is it.” She held a second cube toward each eager mule.
Stomps from the next box caused Eula Mae to laugh.
“Yes, Mr. Ringling. I have treats for you as well. Two treats, in fact.” She followed the doctor to the next enclosure where he was opening the gate.
She hurried to present a sugar cube to the great silver-white beast. He seemed to smile, then nod. She brought the second cube up to his velvety muzzle.
“Never let it be said I don’t keep my promises, lovely boy,” she whispered to the happy animal.
“You say you don’t plan to ride him?” Bart lifted a bridle from a peg on the wall. “If you think you’ll need the saddle, I’ll put that on, too.”
“No, no. No saddle.” Eula Mae smoothed the silvery mane that hung on Ringling’s forehead.
“Okay, little Missus.” He handed her the reins. “Actually, you don’t even need reins. This horse would follow you to hell and back like a pet dog, if you wanted him to do that.” He smoothed the withers of the animal. “I know because I feel the same way.”
Bartlett’s kiss to Eula Mae was a promise for later. The doctor and the hat-maker and the gleaming white horse made their way through the approaching sunset. Torches flickered at the other side of Main Street to mark their destination.
“I hope the Presbyterians will let us dance,” Eula Mae murmured.
Ringling nodded his affirmation of her private wish.
“Let’s put him right on the line with the other horses and wagons,” Eula Mae suggested. “I want to be able to see him from the party.”
No dancing was going on, but a table of home cooked goodies was being well attended when they stepped up to the meeting floor.
“We didn’t make anything to bring for the refreshment table,” Eula Mae confessed. “Twila said Cord was bringing a cake from the hotel so that could count for us.”
“And I have a bit of the barleycorn for the gentlemen, should any care to partake.” Bart patted the flask in his suit coat pocket<
br />
“Oh, Bart, you’re not getting drunk, are you?”
“Have you ever seen me drunk, darling?” He smiled down at her. “This is strictly for the other male celebrants, should they care to indulge.” He looked her over rather carefully. “I certainly want to keep my wits about me while you are playing out your antics with the suspect.”
Eula Mae surveyed the gathered crowd. Most of the women, including Twila, chatted near the refreshment table. Willadene was not among them.
Most of the men gathered at the other end of the floor. Lester Boudreau and other storeowners huddled in a loudly talking group, as if they were arguing about something.
Cord stood against the edge of the floor and she realized he was watching her.
She glanced out to see if she could locate Ringling. He wasn’t hard to spot. His coat glistened almost gold in the last rays of the sunset and the flickering fires of the torches.
A man motioned to the doctor and, with an apologetic nod toward Eula Mae, Bartlett followed the man to an uncrowded corner for what she knew would be an unauthorized consultation with the medical man. Medical questions came up anytime the doctor appeared in a social or public setting. “Part of being a small town doc,” he’d explained.
“I’ll wait until dark,” she promised herself as she beckoned Cord from his place at the edge of the floor.
“You’re looking fine as frog hair,” the deputy complimented the new dress and the upswept hair. “Twila told me to talk to you. What can I do for you?”
“Thanks, Marshall. As soon as old Boudreau gets through yelling at his friends, could you ask him to step out to the line where Ringling is tethered?”
“Do I need to be out there, too?”
“Oh, you can come if you want. If he doesn’t behave you could calm him down, I suppose, but I need to get him to answer some questions for me.” She turned to leave but spoke over her shoulder, “Bartlett says old Boudreau is superstitious to the core. I’ve persuaded the doctor to let me try to get to the truth.” She let her gaze plead with the Deputy Marshall. “I’d like to try to get Boudreau to confess all his sins. You know? Using his own stupidity against him?”
Foxy Statehood Hens and Murder Most Fowl Page 22
