Foxy Statehood Hens and Murder Most Fowl (The Foxy Hens)

by Paula Watkins Alfred

  Zachariah and Micah arose early and staked out an excellent spot, marking it with chairs carried to the spot, blankets spread on the ground, and tables borrowed from the hotel. Guests arrived soon after church services were over. The men sported dark suits and white boiled shirts with high, starched collars, and ladies wore their Sunday best and carried parasols to protect themselves from the sun.

  Most of Guthrie settled into groups of friends and family on the grassy banks including women from the White Elephant Dancehall.

  To lighten the mood, Harriet had brought along Esther wearing her new collar, and the pig was tethered to a nearby tree, rooting happily. At first the party seemed a success as the group feasted on fried chicken and apple pie. When everyone was sated, Zachariah suggested a game of horseshoes and set up the iron stakes. Harriet had never before played and after a few tries, surprised herself by being reasonably accurate with her throws.

  Zachariah and Micah were skilled players and Luther Bingham was a close third. After a few friendly games the railroad executive suggested moving the goal stakes farther away from the throwers. Harriet sensed an undercurrent of male competitiveness in his seemingly pleasant manner, and suggested that the women withdraw and just observe. Dr. Johnson murmured something about visiting a patient and Uncle Richard simply excused himself. To visit the nearby necessary room, Harriet assumed.

  Immediately the pleasant game changed into a tournament. Delmar Bassett became angry because of his consistently bad aim. Luther Bingham bungled three shots in a row, grew cross, and then claimed that such games were for children. Zachariah and Micah, who were winning, exchanged a glance when the friendly atmosphere disappeared.

  Micah invited Radine to join him in rock skipping. Delmar Bassett, who had been trying to flirt with Radine himself, stalked off in a huff. Gradually the others drifted in different directions. Zachariah stood with Mortimer Hightower and Harriet was grateful to her husband for playing host to the banker.

  Harriet settled down against the trunk of a cottonwood tree to muse over recent happenings. How would Radine slip away from Micah in order to speak privately with Felicity? She wondered. Then the next thing she knew, men were shouting and women were screaming.

  “She’s drowned,” a man yelled. Harriet sprang to her feet and looked around in bewilderment. A crowd had gathered near a clump of trees. She ran toward the commotion and saw Charlotte Hightower in a shallow part of the creek supporting a woman’s head to keep it out of the creek.

  “Miz Hightower saw someone facedown in the creek and waded in to save her,” a woman shrilled.

  “The gal must have slipped and fell,” a man said.

  Harriet rushed forward and forced her way through the clutch of people. She saw Luther Bingham step into the creek, pick up the woman and carry her to shore. Then Mr. Hightower pushed his way through the crowd and walked into the water to assist his wife.

  “How could she drown in such shallow water?” Harriet asked. She first sensed and then felt Zachariah press in behind her. Her heart melted in gratitude for his presence. Then she felt his protective arm encircle her shoulders.

  “I once came upon a man who had drowned in only three inches of rain water,” he answered softly.

  Radine’s voice sounded from behind. “It’s Felicity.” Her friend’s ragged whisper spoke of unshed tears. “I was supposed to talk to her, but now she’s dead.”

  * * *

  Shock fogged Harriet’s world. She was aware of what was happening, but everything seemed unreal. Dr. Johnson appeared and immediately proclaimed the official time of death. Deputy Daniels began questioning those who were nearby at the time of what he called, ‘the accident.’ He asked Zachariah to help him keep order and to make a list of names. Harriet didn’t see her uncle anywhere, so she and a distraught Radine walked back to the hotel.

  “Felicity was going to tell me something,” Radine said.

  “Yes, I know,” Harriet said.

  “Yesterday she sent a note to me and now she’s dead. Is this my fault, just like Ida Mae’s death was my fault?”

  “Neither death was your fault. Ida Mae was … a… a dance hall girl. That’s a dangerous life. No telling who killed her or for what reason. The deputy said Felicity’s drowning was an accident.” But Harriet knew she was lying to her friend. Their meddling, hers and Radine’s, had stirred up a viper’s nest and now Felicity was murdered, too.

  Radine’s face grew stubborn and she shook her head.

  “No Harriet, it wasn’t no accident. I woke up this morning with The Bad Feeling. I knew something awful was about to happen. Felicity’s death wasn’t an accident. She was deliberately killed. Now two women are dead, and those two murders are part of the same villainy. Now us’uns have to figure out who done it.”

  Chapter 8

  Radine stood with her arms akimbo and her feet set as if to brace against a hard prairie wind.

  “I let you lead me back to this here comfortable sitting room just like Esther let you lead her back to her pen. I ain’t got no more gumption than that red pig!”

  She knew she was acting like an obstinate two-year-old. She was in danger of destroying the only friendship she had ever had, but at that moment Radine was so angry she didn’t care. Nor did she care that she was breaking all of the new grammar rules that she had so carefully learned.

  “Please, let’s sit down on the sofa and have a glass of wine to settle our nerves.” Harriet spoke in a strained tone that warned Radine not to press too far, yet she couldn’t control the torrent of fury that surged through her veins.

  “I need to get back to the creek.” She bit her lip to stop the tears that burned her eyes. The shocking weakness that had washed through her at the sight of Felicity’s limp body and blue face had been replaced by hot, strengthening anger. “Some dirty rotten murderer lured Felicity to that bend in the stream what was sheltered by them trees and bushes, then he drowned her. I’m going back so’s to study the face of every man at the creek until I figure out who he might be.”

  The door opened and Zachariah and Micah strode in, just in time to hear the end of Radine’s speech.

  “You’re doing no such thing,” Micah said. “You’re going to recline on the sofa and drink some spirits.”

  Radine moved her hands to her hips and glared at Micah. “And who do you think you might be, ordering me about?”

  “A man with good sense.”

  He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and laid her gently on the sofa. Radine gasped and started to fume, but Micah cut her off.

  “You’ve had a shock, and even though you like to act as if you’re as strong as a Missouri mule, you’re actually a little slip of a lady who needs someone to look after her.” Micah spoke patiently but firmly. He grabbed a crocheted afghan and spread it across her legs.

  Radine suddenly felt as if a tablespoon of sweet warm honey had been spooned down her throat, and her whole being calmed as the healing potion spread through her body.

  “Why, yes, Micah,” she heard herself say, surprised at the biddable sound in her voice. “I do believe that you might be right.” Then a vision of Felicity again sprang to her mind. “But I feel so awful. Not even Felicity should be drowned like a rat.” She leaned against Micah’s shoulder as he knelt beside her.

  “Let’s all have a glass of sherry and think about what we should do.” Harriet’s sensible tone further helped settle her shattered nerves. “Radine and I will tell you gentlemen what we have been up to. Four heads are bound to be better than two. Perhaps all of us together can make some sense out of what has happened.”

  Harriet fetched the tablet into which she had tucked the previously made notes. She glanced first at the suspect list and then at Ida Mae’s dying words written on a separate sheet. Finally she straightened into her customary linear posture, and told the brothers the gist of what had happened.

  Radine took heart from her friend’s courage and reiterated yesterday’s conversation with Felicity. As soo
n as she stopped speaking, a sudden fear of being mocked by the men, struck her. She bit her lip until she tasted blood. If Micah made light of their efforts she would never be able to trust him again. A glance at Harriet’s expression told her that she harbored the same sentiment. Radine lifted her chin and studied Micah and his brother. Both men frowned and both looked alarmed. A long silence passed and Radine regretted her total honesty. Micah would never understand.

  Zachariah reacted first. He walked to the table, fetched two chairs, and set them facing the sofa. “Do you feel up to discussing this now, Radine?”

  “’Course I do.” Radine swung her legs to the floor and pulled suggestively on Micah’s hand. The young man sprang to his feet.

  Zachariah slipped his arm around his wife and led her to the sofa. “You sit here beside Radine where it’s comfortable, darlin’ and I’ll pour each of us a glass of wine. You’re pale as a ghost yourself. Both you ladies need to get used to being protected.” He moved toward the wine decanter. “After we fortify ourselves, the four of us will examine those lists together.”

  Radine watched Harriet’s face turn from pale and pinched to glorious and radiant. Her friend sank down beside her and gazed up at her husband in adoration. The look the two exchanged sent glad shivers down Radine’s spine, and when Micah shook the afghan and rearranged it over their laps, she shivered again from pure delight.

  “We can’t have our ladies catching the ague.”

  Zachariah served the sherry. The group sat in a comfortable silence and sipped the first glass. Radine wasn’t accustomed to strong drink of any kind and she thought the sherry tasted more like medicine than refreshment. Then warmth swept through her and she understood why a troubled soul might overindulge.

  Micah refilled their glasses while Zachariah studied first one list and then the other, then passed both to his brother.

  “Are these the exact words that Ida Mae said the night she was struck down? And are they in the order she spoke them?” Zachariah asked.

  “Yes, I think so.” Harriet nodded.

  “And you’re both sure that’s everything she said?”

  Suddenly Radine remembered the forgotten word. “Her first word was, ‘Hi,’ not ‘hello.’”

  “That’s true.” Harriet said. “First, she greeted us with the word ‘hi’.”

  They spent a short time in further discussion, and then separated to deal with supper rush. About eight o’clock the four of them were finishing a late supper at the kitchen table. Uncle Richard came in through the alley door looking exhausted and said Felicity’s death had been declared an accident and a graveside ceremony would take place tomorrow.

  Micah cleared his throat and looked solemnly at the group. “I know it isn’t my place to say this,” he said with a serious but determined look. “But I’m concerned about the sleeping arrangements for Miss Radine.”

  Zachariah shot his brother an astonished look and Micah blushed.

  “I understand Radine beds down on a cot in the kitchen storeroom away from everyone else, and I think she needs a safer place to sleep. One with both a strong door and a strong lock.”

  “Whatever for?” Radine’s tone was sharper than she intended, but discussing her sleeping arrangements with a man, especially one she hoped might become her beau, was downright embarrassing. “Where I sleep ain… isn’t anyone’s business but mine. And Harriet’s, of course.”

  “There’s a murderer roaming this hotel,” Micah said patiently. “You claim these deaths have something to do with you. You fear they are your fault. I don’t want to frighten you, but if that’s true, you might be next on the murderer’s list.”

  Chapter 9

  Harriet took it upon herself to read Psalm 144 at Felicity’s graveside service. Afterwards, while the small group sang Shall We Gather at the River? Harriet saw Radine frown, as if puzzled by something. And her own mind felt uneasy; as if she had forgotten a very important fact. It was disquieting and she pulled her shawl closer.

  After Micah’s remark, Radine had bunked on the sofa in their sitting room. Harriet had slept poorly and she noticed that all four of them had shadows under their eyes.

  A meal was to be served after the funeral in Harriet and Zachariah’s small suite. Everyone squeezed into a rented carriage and Zachariah drove them all to the hotel. Cook had already brought up their dinner, so Zachariah asked a blessing and the family ate without conversation. After the noon meal was cleared away, the brothers left for the lumberyard and Uncle Richard headed toward Reeves Brothers. Radine sat on the sofa and Harriet sat down beside her.

  “At Felicity’s funeral I saw that the Psalm bothered you. It troubled me, too, but I don’t know why.”

  “Neither do I. Could you read that piece once again so’s we can study on why we’re both bothered?”

  Harriet fetched her Bible and read the Psalm aloud once again. And then one particular word leapt off the page in a most extraordinary way. She sucked in a hard breath. Was such a thing possible? A shiver of dread followed by icy fear knifed through her heart. She frowned and touched her throat. “Dear God,” she said.

  “What’s wrong?” Radine asked. “You look like you just saw old Beelzebub hisself.”

  It was a moment before she could answer. “I think perhaps I did.” Harriet hardly recognized her own voice and the two women studied each other in a weighted silence.

  “You know who done it, don’t you?” Radine finally said.

  A hard knot grew in Harriet’s throat and then swelled. She didn’t want to verbalize her thoughts, but Radine’s expectant face gave her no choice. But what if she was wrong?

  “My thoughts make me fear that I may have run mad, and I need a moment to collect myself.” Harriet stood shakily and walked to her small desk. She took the tablet with the notes and moved stiffly back to the sofa. She lowered herself to the settee feeling that the only things holding her together were her steel stays. She found the paper with Ida Mae’s last words and read them. Silently she took the Bible from Radine and looked again at Psalm 144, particularly noting the verse numbers. There was no denying the truth of what she had surmised. She knew who had killed Ida Mae. “Oh, Dear God,” she said.

  “What? What do you see?” Radine grabbed the tablet and the Bible and studied both, one and then the other. “What am I missing? I don’t see nothing that I didn’t see before.”

  Harriet could barely breathe and she had to struggle to articulate words.

  “We made a fatal assumption. We struggled to remember what Ida Mae had said, but we didn’t even consider the question we had asked her before she spoke. Tell me what her first word was. The very first.”

  Radine frowned. “The first word out of her mouth was, ‘Hi.’”

  “Yes, and we assumed ‘hi’ to be a greeting, but what we had asked her was, ‘Who did this to you?’ I think she was trying to tell us, but we misunderstood. So she tried another way to communicate.”

  Radine frowned again and cocked her head to one side.

  “You told me that Ida Mae was a minister’s granddaughter and well versed in Scripture. Read the first two verses of the Psalm once again.”

  Radine took the Bible and began to read aloud, “Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teachest my hands to war, and my fingers to fight: My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower….”

  Radine’s eyebrows shot up and she looked again at the list of words.

  “Why bless my soul! She weren’t trying to say ‘saw,’ at all, she were trying to say, ‘Psalm.’ She gave the numbers of the chapter and the verses.” Tears of rage filled the girl’s eyes. “Why that dirty, rotten, slimy son-of-a….”

  “Radine! Don’t lower yourself to his level. We must stay calm and think carefully. Else this very important man will weasel his way out of being tried for the murders he so ruthlessly committed.”

  “His poor wife!” Radine said.

  “Indeed.” Harriet thought of the lovely Charlotte. The woman was desperately in love
with a cold-blooded killer.

  Chapter 10

  “Why do you suppose a man with a beautiful wife would visit a soiled dove? It just don’t make no sense to me.” Angry sickness swept through Radine, leaving her feeling empty and disgusted. She knew her grammar had gone to hell in a hand basket, as Pa used to say, but at that moment she didn’t care. She noticed that Harriet didn’t bother to correct her, either. In fact, her friend didn’t even seem to notice.

  “But you did understand what Ida Mae was trying to tell us with the Bible verse, didn’t you?” Harriet sounded as if she needed to be reassured that her deductions had been true.

  “Well, I sure do. It’s as plain as the nose on your face. Looky here.” Radine held up the list of words and pointed as she spoke. “Hi, saw, one, four, four, two. First Ida Mae tried to give us the murderer’s name, but ‘Hi,’ was all that came out of her mouth. Then knowing the Bible like she did, she tried to tell us in another way. ‘Saw,’ was meant to be ‘Psalm.’ ‘One, four, four’ was the chapter number, and ‘two’ was the verse.” She picked up the Bible, and read: “You are my high tower… The man’s name is right there in black and white, Hightower. But why on earth did he kill her? I figure that Felicity was trying to blackmail him, but why Ida Mae? He wasn’t even on her list of visitors.”

  When she received no response, Radine studied her friend. What she saw made her blood run cold. She had seen corpses with more color than Harriet. She upbraided herself for being so blunt. Harriet was a gently bred lady; she scolded inwardly, not prairie rawhide like her. She oughtn’t to have blabbed without thinking. Radine wrapped her arms around her friend to comfort her.

  “Don’t you pay no attention to my carrying on, I’m being a silly goose. I sure didn’t mean to scare you with my ravings. You and me are going to stop worrying about any of this right now. Nothing we can do no how.” It had been stupid to draw a delicate lady like Harriet into a murder. What on earth could she have been thinking? She’d pretend to back away from solving the mystery, then continue on her own, but secretly.