Carol Cox
Authors: Trouble in Store
© 2013 by Carol Cox
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
Ebook edition created 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-6141-0
Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
Scripture quotations identified NASB are from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE®, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.
www.lockman.org
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC
Author represented by Books & Such Literary Agency
“For a fast-paced story full of fun, action, mystery, and love, I highly recommend you treat
yourself to
Trouble in Store
by Carol Cox. Her delightful characters and historical accuracy provide a delightful read!”
—Judith Miller, bestselling author of the H
OME
TO
A
MANA
series
“Carol Cox has done it again! From their first meeting in the mercantile, Melanie and Caleb jumped off the page and into my heart. Their story made me laugh, cry, and fall in love all over again.
Trouble in Store
is a do-not-miss read!”
—Kathleen Y’Barbo, bestselling author of
Flora’s Wish
and the R
OCKY
M
OUNTAIN
H
EIRESS
series
“A sweet romance with a suspenseful touch of murder mystery makes Carol Cox’s
Trouble in Store
a great read!”
—Julianna Deering, author of
Rules of Murder, A Drew Farthering Mystery
“One of my favorite writers has produced another winner. Complete with romance and intrigue, this book is bound to keep you turning the pages to the happily ever after.”
—Hannah Alexander, author of
Keeping Faith
“Trouble in store? You’d better believe it. The action in Carol Cox’s novel, set in Cedar Ridge, Arizona, in the wild days of the Tombstone gunfights, delivers more punch than a cowpuncher’s spurs, while romantic tensions grow between Melanie and Caleb to build up to a satisfying conclusion.”
—Eric Wiggin, author of
The Hills of God
and
The Recluse
“A spunky, determined heroine, a stubborn, clueless hero, and an intriguing mystery that pulls you in and makes your mind swirl, blend together to create a charming historical romance you’ll add to your keeper shelf.”
—Vickie McDonough, award-winning author of 26 books and novellas
“Start with the nostalgic allure of the Arizona Territory in 1885, stir in the suspense of a murder mystery, and season it with the thrill of romance. The result is the pièce de résistance
Trouble in Store,
which you won’t soon forget.”
—Sandra Robbins, Christian romance author
“
Trouble in Store
grabbed me from the very beginning. . . . a page-turner of a tale that encompasses suspense, a murder mystery, romance, and a wonderful journey of faith. The secondary characters are so richly drawn, the twists and turns of the plot so intriguing, that I just couldn’t put the book down. I look forward to reading everything else by this author!”
—Roxanne Rustand, author of
When He Came Home
To Wyatt:
Our family’s newest native Arizonan
Trust in the Lord with all your heart
And do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He will make your paths straight.
Proverbs 3:5–6
NASB
M
ARIETTA
, O
HIO
A
PRIL
1885
A
re the children ready, Miss Ross?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Melanie Ross bobbed her head, trying not to wince at her employer’s clipped tone. She shot a quick glance at Mrs. Deaver’s daughter and son to make sure nothing had happened to mar their appearance since her last inspection.
Five-year-old Olivia stood on Melanie’s left, long golden curls framing her cherubic face and cascading over the wide collar of the pink dropped-waist dress so carefully ironed by Melanie the night before. The little girl’s eyes glowed with anticipation, and the dimple in her round left cheek deepened when she offered her mother a bright smile.
Mrs. Deaver’s features softened enough to give her daughter a fleeting smile in return.
On Melanie’s right, Clarence Harrington Deaver Jr. dug the toe of his black patent-leather shoe into the Aubusson
carpet, his dark scowl indicating the nine-year-old’s distaste for the blue velvet suit, complete with lace collar, designated as his attire for the afternoon.
His mother drew her lips apart in an unconvincing parody of a smile. “You look quite the little gentleman, Clarence. We’re all going to have a lovely afternoon, aren’t we.”
The boy pushed his lower lip out farther, and she bent toward him, her voice carrying a hint of steel. “I want you to be on your best behavior today. You can do that for Mother, can’t you?”
When young Clarence’s demeanor didn’t alter a whit, she changed tactics. “If you’re a very good boy, I’ll make sure you have a chance to ride your pony after the guests have gone.”
The boy’s scowl only darkened. “I want to ride Prince now.”
Melanie decided to step in before she had an out-and-out mutiny on her hands. She spoke in a crisp tone. “I’m sure we can find plenty to do this afternoon, Clarence. In the meantime, you’ll be a good boy and mind your mother, won’t you.” She held his gaze until she received a grudging nod and heard Mrs. Deaver’s sigh of relief.
The moment his mother looked away, Clarence’s features took on a thoughtful expression that put Melanie on immediate alert.
Mrs. Deaver regarded her son again and nodded approval. Turning to Melanie, she said, “You may take them down the main stairs now. Our guests will be arriving in just a few minutes, and I want the children to be on hand to greet them. And,” she added with a wry smile, “for our guests to see them while they’re still spotless, before they’ve spent the afternoon playing outside.”
Melanie paused in the act of herding her young charges
toward the staircase. Surely she hadn’t heard correctly. An afternoon outdoors—in those clothes? She could only imagine the effect hours of romping outside would have on Olivia’s pink dress . . . let alone Clarence’s velvet suit.
Turning back toward her employer, she injected all the tact she could summon into her question. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have them stay inside so their playing doesn’t interfere with your gathering? It’s such an important event, after all.”
The hint of steel returned, this time in Mrs. Deaver’s eyes. “Nonsense. It’s a perfect day to hold our get-together outside, and all the children playing on the lawn will make a charming picture, one our guests will remember when it comes time to endorse my husband’s candidacy.”
“
All
the children?” Melanie focused on the word that concerned her most.
“Didn’t I mention that?” Mrs. Deaver trilled a rather forced laugh. “The Martins and Templetons are bringing their children along.”
Melanie selected her words with care. “And you want them all to play outside? While your party is going on?”
Mrs. Deaver’s tight smile showed no hint of budging. “It would surely be far more difficult trying to keep them all cooped up indoors on a beautiful spring day like this. Don’t you agree?”
Melanie clamped her lips together, knowing full well that her opinion wasn’t really being solicited. She made a mental head count, trying to keep her consternation from showing on her face. The Templetons had two children, and the Martins three, meaning she would be riding herd on seven youngsters instead of only two.
She fought back a sigh. Clarence was capable of creating enough trouble on his own. Add Johnny Martin to the mix, and no telling what could happen. The two boys had a long history of trying to outdo each other’s escapades. The time they’d tried to see who could throw balls of mud higher onto the white plaster walls of the Deaver’s home sprang to mind. Melanie flinched and banished the memory as quickly as it came. No doubt about it, she would have her hands full keeping the two of them out of trouble.
She shot another glance at Clarence and caught the look he sent her way, one that promised “I’ll do whatever I want to, and you can’t stop me” as clearly as if he had spoken the words aloud.
“Yes, ma’am.” Shaking off her sense of foreboding, she shepherded the youngsters down the broad staircase and through the ornate entry hall to the front portico, where carriages had already begun to pull up and deliver their passengers.
Melanie stood back as Mrs. Deaver collected the children and walked over to join her husband, who stood on the portico greeting their guests.
A portly man paused to smile at the little group before he clapped Mr. Deaver on the shoulder. “That’s a fine-looking family you have there, Deaver. Just the kind of image we want our next congressman to have.”
Clarence Deaver Sr. swelled at the words. “Does this mean I have your endorsement, Judge Conners? Your support in the upcoming election would mean a great deal to me.”
“That’s a strong possibility. I’m hoping we can discuss some of the finer points of your stand on the issues this afternoon.” The judge leaned over and pinched Olivia on the cheek, eliciting a spate of giggles from the little girl, then
turned to young Clarence and ruffled his hair. “Ah, yes. A chip off the old block.”
Melanie saw the way the boy narrowed his eyes and balled his hands into small fists. She stepped forward, ready to avert disaster, but Mrs. Deaver apparently recognized the signs, as well. Draping one arm around her son’s shoulders, she turned and beckoned Melanie forward with her free hand.
“Some of the other youngsters are arriving, Miss Ross. Why don’t you take the children to meet them.” She waited until Melanie drew nearer to add, “And make absolutely certain that none of them go near the stable. I won’t have this party ruined by having the children smelling of horses.”
Melanie dipped her head and took the children by the hand, tightening her fingers around Clarence’s to keep him from running off. She walked with them to the driveway, where Olivia greeted the Templetons’ daughters and Johnny Martin’s sisters with squeals of delight.
Clarence sauntered toward Johnny with a show of nonchalance intended to deny his mortification at his blue velvet attire. The boys ducked their heads and began talking in low tones, casting an occasional look toward Melanie and her other charges.
Recognizing the need to keep all seven children occupied, Melanie clapped her hands and pasted a bright smile on her face. “Let’s all go over in the shade and play a game of tag.” She waved her hand toward a grove of stately walnut trees midway between the stable and the Muskingum River. The area was clearly visible from the tables that had been set up on the expansive south lawn, but far enough away that childish voices wouldn’t disrupt the important gathering.
The five little girls scampered off, hand in hand, taking
care to skirt the end of the low fieldstone wall that separated the carriage house from the main lawn. Johnny and Clarence immediately clambered onto the wall and walked along the top, holding their arms out wide like tightrope walkers.
Melanie cringed. “Come down from there this minute,” she ordered. “If you fall and ruin those clothes, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
The boys grumbled but complied. Clarence stuck his tongue out at her as they ran off to join the rest of the group.
Melanie followed, wishing with all her heart that the hours would pass quickly. It was going to be a long afternoon.
Will this day ever end?
Melanie tucked a stray piece of chestnut hair back into the coil on her neck, wondering if she could possibly look as bedraggled as she felt after an afternoon spent trying to keep all seven children occupied and out of trouble. After playing several rounds of tag, they had chased butterflies and watched ants carry bits of grain to their nests underground. Melanie let them walk near the river’s edge under her watchful eye to observe a mother duck teaching her babies how to dive for food. And every fifteen minutes or so, she squelched yet another request from Clarence to let him ride Prince. Herding cats would have been easier.
Up on the driveway, carriages were being summoned in preparation for the guests’ departure. Melanie drew a relieved breath, knowing the end was in sight. Johnny and Clarence had been watching an anthill for the past half hour, and the little girls were sitting in a circle—looking like a ring of flowers in their pastel dresses—telling stories.
“Where’s Clarence, Miss Ross?” Olivia’s voice broke into
Melanie’s thoughts. “I want him to tell us one of the stories about King Arthur and his knights.”
Melanie turned to point toward the anthill at the base of the tallest walnut tree. “Why, he’s right . . .” And the glib response died in her throat. Johnny lay on his stomach, tormenting the worker ants by blocking their way back to the anthill with bits of gravel. But Clarence . . .
Where was he? Melanie knew at least part of the answer. He’d sneaked off again, the little wretch.
Tamping down the urge to stamp her foot, she did another quick head count to reassure herself she only had one truant to deal with. One, two, three, four, five, six . . .
No one but young Clarence among the missing. Melanie pressed her lips together and scanned the area. Where had he gone?
Her annoyance mounted as she pivoted in a slow circle. He’d been easy enough to spot before. What could he be up to now?
Up near the house, attentive servants hovered by the tables while the Deavers circulated among their guests. Melanie’s gaze followed the gently sloping lawns, sweeping across the grassy expanse that stretched from the house to the riverbank.
Sudden fear clenched at her stomach.
Not the river.
Visions of Clarence falling in and being swept away to a watery grave filled her mind. Panic lent wings to her feet, and she raced toward the water’s edge.
“There he is!” Olivia’s shrill voice pierced the afternoon stillness.
Caught up in her dark imaginings, Melanie craned her neck, straining for any sight of a small dark head bobbing above the swirling current.
“No, Miss Ross! Over there!”
Other voices took up the cry, and Melanie whirled around to see all six children jumping up and down, pointing toward a spot on the other side of the grove, beyond her range of vision. She moved past the trees to see a dappled gray pony charging across the lawn, with Clarence clinging to his back like a burr.
The spirited animal’s hooves threw up clods of dirt as he galloped across the grass toward the walnut grove. Clarence held fast, his hands twisted in the pony’s creamy mane. He lifted his head, and his eyes lit up when he spotted Melanie.
“Yah! Yah! Look at me!”
Melanie’s hand flew to her throat. He was going to break his fool little neck. “Clarence Deaver, you stop that pony now!”
The boy’s only response was an insolent smirk as the pony turned away from her and headed straight toward the tables where his parents were chatting with their guests, oblivious to the scene being played out on the lawn below them.
“No, come back!” Catching up her skirts, Melanie sprinted after him, knowing she could never catch up with the fleet-footed animal, but hoping she could somehow divert its path and avoid certain disaster.
Even as she ran, she watched events unfold as if living out a bad dream. She recognized the exact moment the adults of the party became aware of what was going on. Their mouths dropped open—first in shock, then in horror—as the pony and its rider bore down on them like a cavalry charge. Shrieks from several women rent the air, joining the cries of the excited children behind her.