Carol Cox (24 page)

She waved her arm to catch the marshal’s attention. “Just a minute!”

The man went on without paying her the least bit of attention. “And why stop with Charley? This may have started with him, but what about his brother? Who benefited by having him out of the way?”

Wendell Trask snorted. “Use your head. That’s the only thing that makes sense. Whoever did Charley in didn’t want anyone discovering what he’d done.”

Micah raised his voice, “But that doesn’t make a lick of sense—not if you’re trying to say that George or Alvin had something to do with the first murder. They were both long gone by the time Weber’s brother showed up.”

Rance Yeary spoke up. “Forget the Webers for a minute. Let’s ask the same question about George and Alvin. Is anyone better off having them out of the way? Who stood to benefit after they were gone?”

Every head in the emporium turned in unison. Every pair of eyes stared straight at Caleb and Melanie.

“Hold on!” Caleb stood rigid, his face as red as the mayor’s had been only moments before. “That’s crazy talk. Miss Ross and I are God-fearing people. What you’re suggesting, that we had anything to do with the deaths of our relatives, is absolutely—”

“But who else stood to gain?” Rance Yeary jabbed his finger straight at Caleb. “You two are the only ones.”

A stunned silence followed this pronouncement.

Then everyone seemed to speak at once.

“That’s enough.” Marshal Hooper’s voice cut across the hubbub like the lash of a whip. “What we need is facts, not rumors and speculation. If nobody has any constructive
information that will add to my investigation, it’s time for you all to go on your way. Just remember what I said—you’re paying me to do this job, so stay out of my way and let me handle it.” He turned his head from one side of the room to the other, leveling a stern look at every person there. “And if anyone has ideas of forming a vigilance committee, know this: You will answer to the law for any illegal actions.”

Melanie slumped back against the wall and watched the people mill around. Some collected in small, chattering groups, while others left the store. Those who departed scooted past Melanie and Caleb without speaking, or even looking at them.

She looked up at Caleb, struggling to find her voice. “What just happened?”

Micah shook his head sorrowfully. “Sorry about that, you two. I knew there were some whispers going around, but I had no idea anyone would take it this far, trumpeting a lot of nonsense out in public like that.” He gripped Caleb’s shoulder. “You know what it’s like once people start talking. Trying to put a stop to it is like trying to rein in a runaway horse.”

From the look on his face, Melanie suspected Caleb couldn’t decide whether he wanted to crawl in a hole or start swinging his fists. He shook his head. “This isn’t just idle talk, Micah. They’re talking vigilantism. That’s mob action, and there’s no talking your way out once something like that takes hold.”

Micah looked Caleb squarely in the face. “I don’t think it will come to that. I’m fairly sure it will all settle down before too long. Besides, no one who knows either one of you would believe you could be involved in anything like this.”

Marshal Hooper made his way through the crowd and stood before their little group, one hand resting on his holster.
He gestured back at the muttering crowd. “I never intended for things to take that kind of turn. I want you to know I’ll do all I can to keep things under control.”

Melanie put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “It seems to me the best way to do that is to find out who is responsible.”

“I’m working on that, believe me.” The marshal lifted his hat, then settled it back on his head. “I have to admit I’ve had more experience with rustlers and bar fights than anything like this.”

His expression hardened, and he leveled a steely look at them both. “However crazy some of this talk may sound, I have to take it all under consideration. And while I may be slow at puzzling things out, I’m an expert tracker. So until this is settled, don’t either one of you plan on leaving town.” He turned on his heel and strode out the door.

Melanie clung to Caleb’s arm, feeling as if she’d just had the breath knocked out of her.

He covered her hand with his. “Are you all right?”

After someone just implied we both are suspected of murdering our relatives? Of course I’m not all right.
Aloud, she said, “I think I’m ready to go back to the store.”

Caleb nodded. He turned to Micah. “We’ll see you later. I appreciate you standing by us.”

As they turned to leave, Melanie heard a woman’s voice whisper, “But they seem so nice. You don’t really think they had anything to do with this, do you?”

Ophelia Pike’s voice rang out clearly. “Appearances aren’t always what they seem.”

Melanie turned to see the mayor’s wife facing a small group of women, with her back to Melanie and Caleb.

“Just the other night,” Mrs. Pike went on, “my husband was coming home late, and he saw something quite disturbing. Caleb Nelson was standing out in the alley behind the mercantile, throwing gravel up at her window.”

Her announcement brought a round of scandalized giggles.

The woman who’d spoken first frowned. “That doesn’t mean he’s guilty of anything but being interested in her.”

Caleb stopped to talk to Rafe Sutton. Melanie pulled away and moved closer to the group so she could hear better.

Mrs. Pike sniffed. “Don’t be naïve, Nettie. They may have arrived here separately, but who’s to say they didn’t know each other before coming to Cedar Ridge? Maybe Rance Yeary has a point. What if they planned all this in advance?”

A gasp ran around the circle.

Mrs. Pike wasn’t finished yet. “But that isn’t the whole story. After he threw the gravel at her window, she came down to let him in . . . wearing only her nightclothes.”

“No!” The other woman pressed a hand to her lips.

Mrs. Pike went on, a note of triumph in her voice. “Does that sound like the innocent actions of near strangers to you?”

“You mean they’re in it together?” Lena Andrews bristled with indignation. “Well, I never! And to think I tried to do her a service by warning her about him!”

A gray-haired woman waved her hand for attention. “I don’t see the sense in that. Why would anyone go to those lengths for a mercantile? It isn’t like it’s going to make either of them rich.”

“And that isn’t all.” Mrs. Pike went on as though the other woman hadn’t spoken. “How many of you were out on the street the other day when she flew to the Nelson boy’s defense after he attacked the marshal?”

Two of the ladies raised their hands. The others leaned forward, with their lips parted.

“Did you hear what the boy said when he ran to her?” Mrs. Pike paused for effect. “He called her Mama.” She let that bombshell sink in before she added, “Ladies, I believe it is possible that she is the boy’s mother.”

Melanie felt her face flame. Despite Micah’s assurance to the contrary, it was obviously all too easy for people to believe the worst about them. She bit her lips to hold back a groan. The situation wasn’t just a bad one—it was worse than they’d feared.

She couldn’t let such a contemptible lie go unchallenged. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped forward, ready to defend her and Caleb’s honor. At the same instant, Ophelia Pike turned around and spotted Melanie.

The mayor’s wife drew herself up and sniffed. “Come, ladies. Let’s be going.”

At the sight of the icy stares from the women in the group, Melanie’s courage faded and her brave words died in her throat. She had a sudden impulse to ask Rafe to hitch his wagon up right then and take her back to Fort Verde, where she could catch the stage and leave Cedar Ridge forever. But with the marshal’s warning ringing in her ears, even that option had been cut off.

With a low cry, she turned and fled back to the safety of the mercantile.

I
f you measure out your preaching by so many minutes per person, I guess we’re going to hear one short sermon today—eh, Preacher?” Andrew Bingham nudged Pastor Dunstan with his elbow, chortling at his own joke.

The circuit rider smiled at him. “I seem to recall that our Lord shared some of His most precious truths at times when He was alone with the twelve. I don’t believe the size of the group matters to Him as much as the hearts of the listeners.”

He grinned at Andrew’s crestfallen expression, then turned to the rest of the little group. “Let’s begin.”

Melanie slid into the middle of one of the benches she and Levi had helped Caleb set up the night before. Even though she had questioned whether they needed to set up as many seats as usual after the spiteful words she’d overheard at the town meeting, finding her doubts confirmed had been a sore disappointment.

She made a quick count while Levi settled in his seat between her and Caleb. Idalou Fetterman was there, bless her,
along with the Professor, Andrew, and Micah. Adding the three of them, that made a total of seven, not counting Pastor Dunstan—a far cry from the first service she’d attended there.

Levi snuggled close to her. “Where is everybody?” he whispered.

The pastor’s opening prayer gave her an excuse to shush the boy and avoid giving an answer. How was she supposed to respond to his question when she didn’t fully understand the reasons herself?

After singing two verses of “Onward, Christian Soldiers”—a feeble attempt that sounded nothing like a valiant army ready to march to victory—they settled back in their seats and Pastor Dunstan opened his Bible.

The bell over the door jingled softly. Melanie looked to the side and saw Will Blake slip inside. He closed the door softly and eased around to take a seat on Melanie’s right.

A light blush tinged her cheeks. With so many empty benches, there was no need for him to choose the one the three of them already occupied. She didn’t miss the dark look Caleb sent his way.

The pastor cleared his throat. “Today, we’re going to take a look at the fourth chapter of Second Corinthians, beginning with verse eight: ‘We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed. . . .’”

Troubled. Perplexed. Persecuted.
The words summed up Melanie’s feelings perfectly. Her hopes—and Caleb’s—for making a new start in Cedar Ridge were being shot down at every turn, with the town she had come to love and planned to make her home turning against them both.

She truly did feel they were being threatened from all sides, not knowing where the next attack might come from. She blinked back tears and listened as Pastor Dunstan went on.

“When circumstances turn against us, it’s easy to feel afraid . . . alone . . . forsaken. But as Paul reminded Timothy, God has not given us a spirit of fear.”

Melanie sniffed quietly. Easy enough for the pastor to say. He didn’t have the threat of vigilantes dangling over his head. And he was free to ride away once the service ended. He hadn’t been warned to stay in town, with the promise of being tracked down like a common criminal if he dared to leave. Her thoughts continued along those gloomy lines until she realized with a start that the rest of the congregation were bowing their heads for the closing prayer. With a pang of guilt, Melanie ducked her head, offering a quick prayer for forgiveness and hoping no one had noticed her lapse.

After the service, Caleb picked up the small wicker basket that served as their collection plate and carried it to the preacher. “Based on the passage you chose this morning, I got the feeling you’ve heard what’s been going on around here lately.”

Pastor Dunstan nodded. “I tend to pick up most of the local news.”

Caleb nodded at the basket. “I’m afraid it’s pretty slim pickings this morning. I hate to suggest it, but you might want to consider finding someplace else to meet until all this has been resolved. None of this is your fault, but it’s certainly affecting the offering.”

The pastor put his hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “God is in control, and He has never let me down yet.” He looked away for a moment and cleared his throat. “I don’t want to appear
to have been listening to idle gossip, but I would like to leave you with another verse to ponder.”

As he spoke, he darted a glance in Melanie’s direction. “First Thessalonians, chapter five, verse twenty-two.”

He squeezed Caleb’s shoulder and looked at him earnestly. “Remember, a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.” With that cryptic remark, he gathered up his Bible and headed toward the livery stable, ready to ride on to the next stop on his circuit.

Melanie looked around for her Bible. “What was that verse?”

Caleb had already picked up his own and was leafing through the pages. “First Thessalonians, chapter five.” He stopped at a page and ran his finger down the column. “Here it is.” A moment later, his face tightened.

Melanie moved next to him and peered over his shoulder. “What does it say?”

The muscles in Caleb’s jaw flexed. “‘Abstain from all appearance of evil.’”

Melanie’s heart sank, and her gaze locked onto Caleb’s, wondering if she looked as mortified as he did. She knew one thing for sure. Pastor Dunstan hadn’t just picked up a few stray tidbits concerning the happenings around Cedar Ridge.

He’d gotten an earful.

“I got the impression the minister’s message struck rather close to home for the two of you yesterday.” The Professor set three cans of peaches on the counter and gave both Melanie and Caleb a look of sympathy.

Melanie watched Caleb tear a sheet of brown paper from the roller above the counter and wrap it around the cans to make a neat parcel. “It certainly captured the essence of what we’ve been living through lately,” he said.

The Professor nodded. “It’s difficult when people talk about you behind your back.”

Melanie studied the man in his fastidious black suit and ascot while she wrote up the order and added it to the Professor’s running tab. She couldn’t help wondering if his wistful tone spoke of his own familiarity with feeling excluded as well as hers and Caleb’s.

She slid the parcel across the counter and smiled. “Will you be at the Founders Day picnic tomorrow?”

“What?” The Professor blinked, as if pulling his thoughts back from a place far away. “Oh, certainly. Are the two of you looking forward to the festivities?”

Caleb leaned against the counter and gave his friend a rueful smile. “I can’t say we’re exactly looking forward to them, not when the whole town seems to look on us as some kind of outcasts. But we’re not going to let that stop us.”

He looked to Melanie for confirmation, and she gave him a nod. They had talked about their situation during the slow morning hours at the store. As tempting as it would be to avoid the gathering, where they were bound to be on the receiving end of more stares and comments, it would be far worse to let it appear they were hiding out. Such actions would be taken as an admission of guilt.

“We’re determined to go, no matter what,” Caleb said. “We know we’ve done nothing wrong, and we can’t let rumors convict us unjustly.”

“Bravo!” The Professor’s approving smile included them
both. “That is precisely the way to deal with nonsense like this. George and Alvin would be proud of the two of you.”

Caleb’s expression turned somber, and he drummed his fingers on the countertop. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something. When we were out at your place the other day, you mentioned something about poison.”

Melanie sucked in her breath. What had prompted that abrupt change of topic?

“I’ve been thinking about Charley Weber’s death,” Caleb went on. “No one suspected it was murder at the time. From what you’ve told us, he became ill but seemed to be recuperating nicely. Then he took a sudden turn for the worse and died in his sleep. Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s the way I remember it.”

Caleb took a deep breath. “If Charley was poisoned, do you have any idea what might have been used? When I think of poison, I think of things like arsenic and strychnine that produce rather obvious symptoms. No one would mistake that for a natural death.

“But now I’ve started wondering whether there’s some kind of poison that could kill a person without the cause being apparent.”

The corners of the Professor’s thin lips curved upward, giving him the appearance of a teacher beaming his approval upon a prize pupil. “You are quite right. Not every poison produces effects that are quite so dramatic or so easily identified. I happened to have a good book on the subject at home, if you’d care to look at it.”

Melanie lifted her hand. “I don’t think that will be—”

Caleb cut her off. “I’d appreciate that. It might be helpful.”

The Professor’s eyes gleamed. “Very well. I’ll go get it and
bring it back to you.” With a pleasant nod, he picked up his parcel and went on his way.

Before the bell stopped jingling, Melanie turned to Caleb, her hands on her hips. “Poison?”

Caleb shrugged. “I didn’t want to bring it up before, but it’s a possibility I’ve been turning over in my mind. I thought as long as the Professor was here, I might as well ask him about it. How else can you explain a death that everyone around here, including Doc, accepted as natural?”

Melanie sagged against the counter. “Shouldn’t you just tell Marshal Hooper about it? Remember what he said about letting him be the one to handle this?”

Caleb stepped over to her and cupped her shoulders in his hands. “Don’t you see? The marshal told us himself he isn’t any good with puzzles. He’s going around asking questions, but he isn’t getting any answers. And people are getting edgier by the minute. You heard them at the meeting the other night. They were talking about getting a vigilance committee together. I may not have been out here very long, but I’ve been here long enough to know that situations like this can turn deadly in a hurry.”

Melanie felt the blood drain from her face as the meaning of his words sank in. “You mean, deadly for
us
?” His grim expression was all the answer she needed.

Caleb wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. Melanie clung to him, treasuring the feeling of being safe, protected.

She took a shaky breath and drew back, squaring her shoulders. “All right, what do we need to do? Where do we start?”

Caleb squeezed her shoulders. “I’m going to read the Professor’s book and see if I get any insights from it. In the
meantime, we need to watch the people around us—really look at them. Somebody around here is carrying around a heavy load of guilt. He’s bound to do something that will give himself away.”

“And just how are we supposed to do that?” Melanie asked. “Watch people, I mean. Business has fallen off to a trickle. It isn’t like we have a parade of customers coming through our doors these days.”

Caleb’s eyes took on a gleam that reminded her of the Professor. “You’re forgetting—tomorrow will be a perfect opportunity to see them all together in one place. Everyone in town will be at the Founders Day picnic.”