Horse With No Name (23 page)

"Any idea how the fire started?" she asked,
mostly because she wanted to know, but also partly because she
wanted to see Merrick's reaction.

Merrick gave her a cool glance and then
looked at Walt. Julia followed his gaze and saw the blacksmith
arching one eyebrow at his friend. Julia wasn't sure what that was
about but when Merrick spoke he seemed to be making an effort to
sound calm. "Nope. But my guess is it didn't start in Hunter's wood
stove."

"Why do you say that?"

"Hunter said he saw the flames out the
bedroom window first. It was the crackling that woke him up.
Another minute or two and he'd have been singed down to his bone
marrow."

Julia shuddered at the imagery.

Merrick continued, "And the stove was one of
the only things left, of course. The ashes in it were minimal.
Hunter obviously kept it clean and tidy. And I've no reason not to
believe him about when he saw the flames. Although we," he nodded
his head toward Walt, "had a look at what was the back of the
house, and couldn't see anything that indicated foul play."

Julia opened her mouth to speak, but Merrick
continued.

"But, given what Hunter has been through
recently, I wouldn't be at all surprised if someone started the
fire. He seems to have made an enemy here in Horse." Merrick put
his fork and knife down on his plate, wiped his mouth with his
napkin, and leaned back in his chair. He looked steadily at Julia.
"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"No, sir." She smiled, happy not to be forced
to lie. She knew other things she wasn't telling Merrick, like the
specifics about Hunter's gender, for example, but she was still at
a loss about who meant him harm.

Merrick cast a weary glance at her. "Why do I
so often get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?"
He seemed less frustrated tonight and more resigned.

Julia looked over at Walt. He winked at
her.

Caroline set Julia's supper down in front of
her. Along with a glass of amber liquid she hadn't ordered. And a
glass each in front of Merrick and Walt.

"What's this?" Julia asked.

"Compliments of Mr. Anker." Caroline stepped
aside and revealed the rancher sitting with his wife at a table
tucked into a corner of the room.

The three recipients of Anker's generosity
raised their glasses to him. He nodded and raised his back.

When they'd each taken a sip, Walt set his
glass down and asked Merrick, "Any progress on finding Julia's
attackers?"

The constable nodded slightly. "I suspect
they were drifters, unfortunately. I had a telegraph message this
morning about a similar happening in Lumby last night. A woman
taking a walk after supper was grabbed by a fellow."

The hairs stood up on Julia's arms. "What
happened?"

"Nothing, luckily."

Julia let out a breath she hadn't realized
she was holding.

Merrick continued. "It just happened that
this woman had her dog with her. A great big wolf-like thing,
apparently. I guess the man who tried to attack her hadn't noticed
the dog, but when the dog saw him touch his mistress, he launched
himself at the guy and nearly tore him apart."

"Good for that dog," Walt said.

"Exactly. The dog got his message across;
when Lumby's constable went to look at the location of the fracas
this morning, there was blood on the ground. The woman screamed at
some point and the dog let go. But whoever this guy was, he's got
some wounds he'll need looked at. I've alerted the doctors in the
area and south to Penticton, so maybe he'll be dumb enough to visit
one of them and we can nab him."

"Just one guy this time?" Walt asked.

"They think so. Either that or number two
hadn't moved out of the shadows yet, and when the dog attacked he
wisely took off. Anyway," he turned to Julia who was taking a sip
of her whisky, "whoever they were, I don't think they were local. I
know that doesn't make it much better, but I think the chances of
another attack are slim to none."

"That is some comfort," Julia said,
reluctantly remembering her encounter. A thought occurred to her.
"On the night of the dance, one of the men used my name. If they
were drifters, how do you think they knew?"

"That's been bothering me as well. It's why I
wanted to question the men at the surrounding ranches. But," he
chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, "I don't have an
explanation. It was dark and you were alone, so no one else used
your name while you were outside, correct?"

Julia nodded.

"My guess is that they'd seen you in town
earlier in the day or on another day, and found out who you were
then. I expect they were lying in wait for a woman to go alone to
the outhouse. And when you appeared they were able to use your name
to intimidate you. It must have been unsettling to hear it."

This wasn't a question, but Julia nodded.

"I'm sorry it happened, but as I said, I
think it was an isolated event. Keep your eyes open over the next
little while, though, and let me know if you see anyone resembling
those men."

Julia pushed her plate away. Even though she
had only eaten half her meal, her appetite was gone. She was
reminded that for the past few days she had been trying to distract
herself from her fears about what had happened the night of the
dance by focusing on James Hunter’s problems. Merrick’s update
brought home to her again the fear she was trying to avoid, and
though it was good news that the men were probably not local, she
found herself feeling unsettled.

Thankfully, a distraction arrived in the form
of Gerard Anker and his wife. "Hard at work, I see, Constable." The
rancher clapped Merrick on the shoulder, and smiled, teasing.

Anker wanted to know about the fire. He
hadn't been there for the event and he and Mrs. Anker had just seen
the blackened remains of the house as they'd driven into town that
afternoon.

"Isn't it terrible?" Mrs. Anker said to Julia
in her strongly- accented English. "That poor man lost
everything."

She seemed to want to continue to collect any
details from Julia, but her husband took her arm. "Come now, dear,
we must be going." Gerard Anker pulled on his hat and a pair of
deer-skin gloves, preparing for the wagon ride back to the ranch.
"We need to get back before dark. I forgot to bring a lantern."

Anker shook Merrick and Walt's hands and, as
he had done at the ranch, lifted Julia's hand to his and kissed her
fingers.

Sabine swatted his arm playfully. "Stop
flirting, Bärchen. We must be going."

The couple left, and Julia took another sip
of her whisky. She curled her nose with distaste when she put the
glass up to her face.

"Are you going to just grimace at that or can
I have it?" Walt asked.

Gratefully, Julia pushed the glass over to
him. She turned to Merrick, "What do you know of Walter Meddy?"

"The baker? When I don't have time to make my
own, I like his bread. Why?"

"At the game the other night," Julia noticed
herself shying away from using the word 'poker', "it was you guys
who mentioned that Meddy kept losing to Hunter. I talked to him the
other day..."

At this Merrick groaned. He rolled his head
back and took a deep breath, and then leaned forward again.

Julia continued, undeterred by his
irritation, "...and he was rude to us - Betty was with me - and he
seems like a grumpy, unhappy person. But physically violent?
Somehow I don't think so. He's as soft as the dough he works with.
But he said the strangest thing the other night at a dinner party
the Joneses had. He said that when I found out who Hunter really
was, that I’d know who beat him. Does that make any sense to
you?”

Merrick was still leaning forward, watching
Julia with an expression of dismay on his face. When she stopped
talking and looked at him, he couldn't seem to find the words to
speak. They stared at one another for a moment and then Merrick
said, "Do you not have a classroom to teach?"

Julia looked puzzled. "Right now? No. Of
course not. It's…" she looked at the large grandfather clock that
stood in one corner of the dining room, "quarter past seven. School
got out hours ago."

Merrick continued to glare at her. Julia
hadn't seen him quite like this before. "I don't mean right now. I
mean, shouldn't you be focused on something else other than doing
my job for me? You have a job, right? The city employs you to teach
the children. Have I got that right?" His tone was dripping with
sarcasm.

Julia fidgeted in her seat, and her color
began to rise. She'd angered him again after a brief respite.

"I just think," Merrick said, "that if you're
being paid to do one job, you shouldn't be gallivanting off and
doing another."

"Well, I..." Julia began.

Merrick held up his right hand, stopping her.
"Tell me this: Did Mayor Billy and the other town council members
hire you to be my assistant but forget to tell me?" He didn't wait
for an answer, barreling on, his voice getting deeper and more
growly with every sentence. "Because if they did, I have a hell of
a lot of paperwork on my desk that I'd like help with. Do you know
how to work a telegraph machine? Because I could use some
assistance on that front as well. What about brands? Do you know
how to register cattle brands? I'll bet you do because you seem to
know everything else about my job. How about this," he pulled his
napkin off his lap and threw it on the table, "I'll take a
well-deserved day off tomorrow and go hunting. You can manage the
office and deal with whatever problems arise during the day. How
about that? The door will be unlocked in the morning and you can
just let yourself in and have a grand old time. Right? Good."

Merrick pushed his chair back and stood up.
Without looking at Walt or Julia he left the table. He grabbed his
hat from off the hat tree near the front door and left the
restaurant, closing the door more firmly than necessary behind
him.

"Oh my," Julia said, not sure whether to be
embarrassed or amused. "I seem to have ruffled some feathers." She
looked at Walt. "Again."

Thirty

Something had been gnawing at Julia's mind all
morning. She woke early, a good hour before she needed to get up.
Unable to get back to sleep she went to the school early to work on
lesson plans. Whatever it was that was bothering her subconscious
would not come to light. She focused her attention as much as she
could on the lessons, hoping that, as with an animal of prey, if
she was still and quiet enough it would come out into the light. So
far she'd had no luck.

Just before nine o'clock, the children began
arriving. She got them settled and tried focusing on working with
each of them. Elsie Campbell, a normally bubbly and vivacious seven
year old was fighting a cold, and had an upset stomach. After
jollying the child along for a while, Julia finally gave up and let
her lie down on the mat with a blanket and feather pillow she kept
in the classroom for just such emergencies. The girl fell asleep
almost instantly.

The rest of the morning passed as most
schooldays did; she helped with problems when students encountered
them, encouraged those who were not swift learners, challenged
those who had the ability to stretch, and wiped a few noses.
Elsie's cold seemed to be threatening to sweep through the room and
Julia had no doubt that in a day or two she'd be down to just one
or two students, the rest laid up at home. When one person in their
company got sick, the others almost always did as well.

At noon, Julia released the fidgety inmates,
requesting that they spend at least twenty minutes outside. She
hoped the fresh air and movement might cleanse the cold bug from
some of them. When she checked on Elsie, the girl was flushed, but
sleeping peacefully, so she left her.

Julia sat at her desk, staring out one
window, willing the tickle in the back of her mind to come
forward.

"Miss?" It was John Purvis, an eleven year
old with a surprising passion for math.

Julia looked up, "Yes, dear?"

John pulled his cap off as he entered the
classroom, but he was still wearing his outdoor coat and gloves.
“May we take the croquet set out of the shed?"

"Certainly, John. Just be sure to put
everything back when I call you in."

He disappeared before she finished her
sentence.

The tickle in her subconscious had gotten
stronger while the boy was standing there. She felt it the way you
feel a word on the tip of your tongue that you can't quite reach.
She became very still, even widening her vision, looking at the
wall but seeing nothing. She pictured John again; his cap folded in
his gloved hands, his short leather boots, his little buttoned
overcoat that was too big, a hand-me-down from his older brother,
Steven.

It came.

Julia leaped out of her chair and trotted to
the alcove between the classroom and the front door, where the
hooks for coats and hats lined the walls on both sides. She grabbed
her long wool coat and stuffed her arms into it as she ran down the
schoolhouse steps.

"Katherine," she called.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Keep an eye on things for five minutes. I'll
be right back."

"Yes, Miss."

Running in a corset is no easy task. Julia
had to slow to a walk several times on her journey, which
infuriated her. But her lungs had very little room to expand under
the stiff boning, and she certainly didn't want to pass out.

She finally reached the watchmaker's shop and
pushed her way through the front door. She didn't notice the bell
tinkling to announce her arrival.

"Mr. Hunter?" she called out.

The shop was silent. She called out again and
stood still, listening. Her breath was coming hard and it was
difficult to hear over it.