A Fella for Frances

by Donna K. Weaver

  “I have the letter he gave me from the school.” Her voice had turned gruff, but she showed no sign of crying.

  “There’d be other documents on record with your father’s signature,” Charles said. “Like the deed for your house and if he owned the office building where his business was. Whatever happened to that?”

  “We have no idea,” Frances said.

  “That’s what I was saying earlier,” Nick said. “Her uncle’s had free run of her father’s papers for nine months.”

  “I’ll send my father a telegram, so he can get on it right away. I think I’ll have him get a picture of the signature on the deed to your house.” Charles tilted his head, his expression worried. “But you should know it’s not a common thing. Taking photographs of documents on file with the county is bound to get people talking. Your uncle could hear about it.”

  “I hope he does.” Frances leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “I want you to understand something—if William Lancaster is responsible for my father’s death, I’m going to make him pay.”

  “Frances ...” Charles said, his tone warning.

  “I think she means she wants to give him enough rope to hang himself.” At her grin, Nick’s chest swelled. The confirmation he understood meant a lot to him. If only she knew how he felt.

  2

  “So, this is where you got to, Merrick,” Abe Vosburg, Lilac City’s sheriff, said as he strode into the hotel dining room.

  “I’m sorry.” Charles jumped to his feet. “Did you need me for something?”

  “No.” The older man took a seat of his own. “But we’ll need to meet the train here in about a half hour.”

  “Why do you do that?” Frances asked as he signaled for coffee.

  “I like to know who’s coming into my town. That’s how I knew you and your sisters had arrived, and how I met young Merrick here.” The sheriff grinned. “Good thing I did too, or he might not have stayed to marry your sister.”

  “Are you saying you’re like that Mrs. Champion with her mail-order brides?” Charles asked, his eyes twinkling.

  The sheriff gave a disgusted grunt. “I told you during our first meeting I was no matchmaker.”

  “Why did you pull that face?” Frances asked Nick.

  “Just something Reverend Pearce said,” he muttered, refusing to look at her.

  “Oh, ho,” the sheriff said, clapping Nick on the back. “Did the parson tell you it was time to find yourself a wife and settle down?”

  “I’ll bet he suggested you hire Mrs. Champion to find a bride for you.” Charles looked about to laugh.

  A little twist of nausea began in Frances’s stomach. She never intended to marry; it would mean giving a man power over her. Until that moment, she’d never thought about Nick getting married someday. He came from a large family. The sister whose wedding he was going home for was the only child younger than he was. It would leave him the only unmarried child. When he went home, they’d be sure to pressure him to find a wife too.

  A sense of loss hit Frances, the most powerful she’d felt since she’d held her father on their dining room floor as he’d taken his last breath. Her eyes stung, and she had to drop her gaze to her now lukewarm drink.

  What was she going to do when Nick married? No woman would put up with her husband having a female best friend. Once he found a wife, Frances would have to break it off with him. She refused to be the cause for discord in his home, and she knew how spiteful and jealous girls could be. She’d suffered at their hands enough at finishing school.

  “You’re quiet, Miss Frances,” the sheriff said, pulling her from her thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

  “About how ridiculous our society is that a woman has to go to school to be finished.”

  Abe burst out laughing. “Girl, you have the oddest way of looking at things.” When she started to protest, he raised his hands. “I’m not disagreeing with you. It’s only you bring up things I’ve never thought about. I like it because you make me see things differently. But, once you bring it up, I see you’re absolutely right. Edith would agree with you.”

  Frances wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not. She never quite knew how to take the sheriff’s sister. The woman was progressive in some things as one would expect from a woman who’d managed to reach the age of thirty-eight and still be unmarried, but Edith was also too caught up on what everyone thought was proper and ladylike behavior.

  At least it gave Frances something to stew about besides Nick getting married. And there she was again thinking about it. If she kept at it, she’d be cranky all day. That kind of behavior would make him glad to be married so he wouldn’t have to put up with his cantankerous best friend anymore.

  Stop it.

  “You heard anything from that lawyer of yours?” Frances asked Charles to change the subject.

  “The same nonsense about Maude being underage when we were married,” he said with a scowl.

  Luke had submitted a petition to the court to be their guardian, but Uncle William kept submitting challenges that were nothing but delay tactics. He claimed Luke was only a half-brother which shouldn’t carry as much weight with the court as an uncle. Still, what was the court going to do? Maude and Charles were married but also expecting a baby.

  Frances might not have paid any attention to the tall man who’d stepped into the hotel’s dining room, if he hadn’t made a choking sound. She’d know it anywhere since the fella made it every time he saw her. She’d leaped from her seat and lunged to grab his overcoat before he’d barely turned around to leave.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, Edgar Lowell. You’re just the man I’ve been wanting to talk to.”

  She towed him back to the table where the three men still sat, watching. They all wore amused expressions.

  “What’ll you have to drink?” Frances asked as she pressed on Edgar’s shoulders until he sat in a chair between Charles and Nick. “Coffee, right? Black?”

  “Yes.” Edgar heaved out a breath, apparently accepting defeat, and Frances signaled the waitress before sitting down again.

  “You didn’t really think you could get away once she saw you, did you?” the sheriff asked with a chuckle.

  “I would never have come here if I had realized she was in town,” the man muttered.

  “We were just talking about something you’re involved in,” Frances said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. “You’re a lawyer setting up your first practice. Maybe you can help.”

  Edgar accepted a cup of coffee from the waitress and waited until she’d gone before speaking. “I thought you already had attorneys working on this back in Indianapolis.”

  “We were talking about my uncle’s argument that Maude shouldn’t receive her inheritance because she was underage when she married Charles. She’ll be twenty-one in less than a month.” Frances met his gaze and held it. “Doesn’t that make it a moot point?”

  “Well, aren’t we using big words?” Edgar said, his tone snide but with just a hint of humor to it. She was pretty sure he loved to exaggerate being afraid of her, that it was a game he liked to play.

  Nick had shifted in his seat at the words, his posture now menacing.

  “I can handle him.” Frances put a gentle hand on his arm. “He knows what he owes my family.”

  Edgar had the good grace to look abashed. He might have come to Lilac City under the guise of visiting his cousins Judith and Marshall Breckinridge, but his real motive had been to lure either Frances or her sister Doris back to Indianapolis and into the hands of their uncle. Edgar still carried the snooty, holier-than-thou attitude he’d brought from his high society New York family. Judith, her future sister-in-law, had it too, but she was actively working to overcome it.

  “I’ll ask that again,” Frances said. “Even if the court were to uphold Uncle William’s claim that he’s our guardian, once Maude turns twenty-one next month, it shouldn’t matter if she married before her birthday. Right? So,
she and Charles should be able to travel back to Indianapolis to claim her portion of the inheritance.”

  “She should be able to, yes.” Edgar took a sip of his coffee. “Your uncle has already shown how crafty he can be and how many people he has in his pocket. I would never assume she can just waltz in there to claim what’s rightfully hers.”

  “How could her uncle do that?” Sheriff Vosburg asked, leaning forward.

  “Getting a judge to rule the marriage wasn’t legal because she was underage.” Edgar shrugged. “He might have to grease a few palms to make it happen.”

  “I have no doubt he’d try to do anything he can to stop the girls, if he were willing to murder his brother,” Charles said, his tone bitter.

  “What’s that?” Abe asked. “That’s a pretty serious accusation.”

  Frances met the older man’s gaze. She hadn’t wanted to talk about her dreams and how they helped her to remember, but she shouldn’t have been surprised Charles brought it up, especially to the sheriff.

  She started by mentioning the used Steinway her brother had purchased for her as a Christmas gift. By the time she’d finished laying out the facts, Edgar and the sheriff were both looking a little stunned.

  “If it’s possible to prove my uncle is responsible for my father’s death,” Frances said, her voice gruff, “it’s my intention to make him pay to the full extent of the law.”

  “Proving it is going to be hard,” Charles said. “Your father’s been gone almost a year.”

  “Depends on the poison,” Nick said. “Some leave signs on the body.”

  When everyone turned to stare at Nick, he swallowed, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

  “What are you suggesting?” Edgar asked.

  “There was this case about ten years ago,” Nick said, “where the daughter of a rich man in a nearby town got herself worried she’d lose her inheritance if her father remarried. I don’t remember all the details. I was just a kid, but I do recall my family talking about it on a summer evening. The banker had died after some really bad stomach cramps, and the daughter inherited. Later, one of the servants come forward and said she’d seen the daughter putting something in her father’s milk he had every day with his breakfast. The maid claimed she’d been offered money not to talk but never got it, and that’s why she decided to speak out.”

  “She’d never heard blackmail was against the law?” Abe asked, with a dark chuckle.

  “I never said she was the brightest,” Nick said. “But it’d been almost two years since they’d buried the banker. Everyone figured there was no way to prove he’d been poisoned. But the marshal had a friend who was a coroner in a big city. When they dug up the banker and examined the body, the coroner said it showed signs of poisoning.”

  “You’re saying, if we have my father’s body exhumed—”

  “Another big word,” Edgar interjected but snapped his mouth shut at Frances’s pale and unsettled face. He muttered, “Sorry. That was tasteless.”

  “Keep going,” Nick said, trying not to look at the attorney whom he’d like to hit.

  “After all this time, can we tell if he were poisoned?” Frances asked.

  “I’m not saying that’s what you should do,” Nick covered her hand with his, “but I think your suspicions are solid. If you’re bound to prove it—one way or the other—there might still be evidence to back up your claim.”

  “Was there not an autopsy?” Edgar asked.

  “I have no idea. We were in shock.” Frances swallowed before asking, “What would it take to request an autopsy—or another one?”

  Once again Nick’s heart swelled for her. There was a strength about her beyond anything he’d seen before. He couldn’t imagine any of his sisters asking that question so calmly about Pa. Frances Lancaster ran deep. Just when he thought he knew everything about her, she’d prove how wrong he was.

  “If you really want to pursue this,” Edgar said, his voice quiet, “I can file a petition. I think it would be wise to hire the services of a doctor with an unquestionable reputation. I’m not sure a request to exhume your father’s body could be kept secret, but we can try.”

  “You would do that?” Frances asked, sounding surprised.

  Nick didn’t like the idea of her starting to like the highfalutin’ attorney.

  “I’ve already sent him a telegram to inform him of Doris’s marriage.” Lowell had straightened as he said the words.

  “Isn’t that dangerous to you?”

  Great. Now worry colored her tone. If Nick hadn’t thought the man to be in competition for Frances’s affection, he’d have been glad to see the man get some gumption.

  Edgar shrugged, a gesture which reminded Nick of the man’s cousin Marshall, who’d married Doris.

  “It’s too late now. I promised my cousin I would find my honor again.” Edgar sat straighter in his chair. “I’ve claimed it.”

  “Is he going to try to push you to go after Frances now?” Nick asked.

  “I wonder if maybe you should pretend like you are.” Abe rubbed his chin.

  Frances made a sound of disgust which made Nick have to choke back a laugh, though he didn’t like the idea of the slick lawyer pretending to woo her.

  “No, listen to me first,” the sheriff said. “The whole reason you didn’t tell him about Doris’s marriage in the first place was because you wanted Lancaster to think he had a man here in the form of Edgar Lowell. The fact she’s married a wealthy and established rancher is not unbelievable. No offense.”

  “None taken.” Edgar said the words like he meant them.

  Nick didn’t miss the darkening of the man’s ears. Was it because Doris had wounded Lowell’s pride by choosing another man—or the suggestion he should start courting Frances?

  “If your uncle believes he already has a man in our area who’s working to wheedle his way into the family’s affections,” the sheriff said, “there’s no need to send someone else.”

  “But Edgar can’t be that man if he acts on our behalf as an attorney,” Charles said. “We have to hire someone else, someone William Lancaster can’t get to. Now, Albert Lancaster wasn’t one of the wealthiest men in Indianapolis, but he and his family associated in the highest circles. He was well known. If his brother truly is behind the death, he didn’t do it alone. I’m trying to decide if it’d be a good thing for word to leak out about a possible inquest.”

  “Why is that?” Edgar asked.

  “Because Uncle must have paid someone on our staff to give my father the poison,” Frances said.

  “Either that or someone your father worked with,” Nick suggested.

  “I like the way you people think,” the sheriff said. “I’ll bet Charles must know some folks who could help with the legal part of it, maybe a judge. I know someone I’d like to hire to do some private investigating. Frances, you and your sisters should put your heads together and see what you remember about your father’s schedule during those last two weeks—whoever he may have interacted with, especially someone he might have shared a meal with. If the autopsy shows your father was poisoned, and word gets out, whoever helped should get real nervous.”

  The older man coughed as though suddenly uncomfortable with the morbid topic around a lady, but Nick thought the sheriff shouldn’t feel that way. The fire burning in Frances’s eyes did not bode well for anyone who might have played a hand in her father’s death.

  3

  “Are you listening?” Doris asked a few days later, tapping Frances on the knee.

  “I’m sorry.” She’d been pulled into the sisterly gathering at the Circle B Ranch, where Doris lived with her new husband. His sister, Judith, had insisted that Frances be part of the wedding plans. Since it had been a kind overture, she’d agreed. “What were you saying?”

  “Will you wear a dress to the wedding?” Judith asked. “Please do. My mother and grandmother will both be in attendance, as will my grandmother’s husband.”

  “The guy with the ti
tle.” Frances didn’t try to hide her lack of excitement about such prestigious people coming to her brother’s wedding. She liked the rough Wyoming town of Lilac City with its down-to-earth folks. It didn’t bother her that a few thought she didn’t act like a lady. She didn’t, and she was quite proud of it. Times were changing, and it was time people got used to it. When these self-important relatives arrived from England, they were bound to stick up their noses at all the things Frances loved.

  “The viscount, yes,” Judith said with a disapproving glance.

  “I don’t care if the man has a title. It means nothing in America. That’s why we had a revolution, so we wouldn’t have to bow down to folks like them anymore.”

  “Will you please wear a nice dress to Luke’s wedding?” Doris asked in her most appeasing voice. “For him?”

  Frances scanned the parlor, studying the faces who watched her, from her two sisters and her future sister-in-law to the members of the Ladies’ Improvement Society. Frances didn’t see disapproval in any of their expressions, not even Judith’s.

  The woman had changed a lot since she’d first come to Lilac City, but especially since Luke had started courting her. Once the wedding took place, she would be the mistress of the house where Frances lived. She didn’t want to make her brother’s life miserable by not getting on with his new wife.

  “I’ll do it for you, Judith, because I know it’s important to you,” Frances finally said, and a few of the women gave sighs of relief. “But I don’t want anything fancy. And I want a shorter skirt, about boot high.” She held out her foot to showcase the split skirt she preferred to wear.

  If the cowhands didn’t stare at her rear end so much when she wore trousers, she’d wear them more often. She was getting tired of smacking their faces, and Nick had come to blows with one of them about it. That particular cowhand had moved on once Tom McDaniel, the ranch foreman, had threatened to tell Luke about the man’s wandering eyes.