The Bride's Prerogative (25 page)

Annie called, “Well, Bitsy, I must say your outfit looks very practical. And such a cheerful color.”

“Why, thank you.” Bitsy preened just a bit, the better to display her bloomer costume. “It’s good for working without showing your garters. A bit more discreet than my usual wear, but—can you imagine—some of the gentlemen find it shocking.”

Myra nodded, grinning at her. “I can imagine it. Papa said that very thing when he came home from the jailhouse on Saturday.”

“Now, Myra,” her mother said gently.

“But it’s true, Mama.” Myra stepped eagerly toward Bitsy. “He came home fussing like an old woman. ‘That Bitsy Shepard was wearing pants, I tell you. Shocking. Just shocking.’ Didn’t he say that, Mama?”

Gert smothered a giggle at the young woman’s impression of her staid father. Annie apparently found Zachary’s reaction to the fashion less amusing than Myra did. “Now, Myra, stop it. You’ll embarrass Miss Shepard.”

Bitsy let out a loud laugh. “Don’t fret about that, Miz Harper. I haven’t been embarrassed since I was twelve years old. Now, who’s got an extra scrub rag? Let me at the dirt. I’ve only got an hour to help you, but I’ll send Goldie over for a spell when I go back to the Spur & Saddle.”

A small sound came from Isabel’s throat. She’d stood still since Bitsy’s appearance, her hands poised above the basin of water she used to scrub down the work surfaces. She hadn’t moved or said a word, but her face had turned a mottled pink.

Gert sidled over to her. “Are you all right, Isabel?”

Isabel swallowed with effort. “I’m just … surprised. I didn’t expect …” She darted a glance toward the vision in red.

Bitsy’s painted eyebrows wriggled. “Oh, I see.” Her face turned thoughtful and she set down her basket. “Well, Gert, I’ll be going.” She turned toward the door.

CHAPTER 29

E
than and Hiram rode into the narrow flat spot before the site of Frank Peart’s old cabin. Even though Trudy had told him the house had burned, Ethan cringed at the sight. The fieldstone chimney loomed over the charred beams and boards. He couldn’t identify any large items in the ruins. No bedsprings—but then, Frank and Milzie had probably done without. There had been a stove. Trudy had mentioned seeing it in the mine above.

Hiram dismounted and let his reins trail. Hoss immediately lowered his head and began to crop the meager grass. Ethan followed him, ground tying Scout. Together they approached the burned-out square.

“You reckon the person who set the fire at the Paragon did this?” Hiram asked.

Ethan pushed his black hat back. “I dunno.”

Hiram kicked at a length of charcoal that might once have been part of the door frame. “If he did, how would we find his penny?”

“Good question.” Ethan looked up the hillside. “Come on. We’re not likely to find much here. We’d best check the cave.”

“Milzie will have salvaged anything useful.” Hiram pulled his rifle from the scabbard on his saddle. Ethan eyed him in surprise. “In case we run across a rattler.”

The path to the old mine entrance held ruts and gouges. Old Milzie must have struggled to haul things up the incline. When they reached the dark opening, Ethan pulled his pistol and hesitated. Hiram fished in his shirt pocket and produced a small tobacco tin. Since he didn’t smoke, Ethan’s curiosity was piqued.

“Gert said to bring matches.” Inside, they found a short candle, and Hiram lit it with a lucifer from his tin.

A quick sweep of the cave assured Ethan that no critters had moved in. Split and crushed rocks showed them where Frank had prospected for gold or silver, but the cave ended in a hewn niche extending not more than six feet beyond what appeared to be the back of the original cavern.

Ethan and Hiram gathered up Milzie’s pitiful store of household goods and carried them out into the sunlight.

“Pins.” On a flat rock, Ethan laid out fourteen safety pins, from one a half inch long to a large horse-blanket pin.

“This looks familiar.” Hiram handed him a knife with a four-inch blade. The haft, about as long, was made of polished deer antler.

“Griff Bane’s knife.” Ethan stared at Hiram. His friend nodded. Ethan exhaled and shook his head. “How could she get this?”

Hiram cocked his head to one side. “What if she went in the livery after Griff was attacked, saw the knife, and picked it up?”

Ethan thought about that. “Don’t you think she’d have tried to help him? Or told somebody he was hurt?”

Hiram drew in a deep breath and raised his shoulders. “What, then?”

“What if …” Ethan took his hat off and scratched his head. “What if she hit Griff?”

“Laid him out?”

Ethan nodded. “I know it sounds crazy, but …”

“Naw.”

They stood in silence. It seemed unbelievable to Ethan that anyone would see the blacksmith injured and not try to help him. But Milzie hadn’t been exactly stable. “Griffin was sure about the knife. Said he’d pulled it out when he heard a noise. He had it in his hand when that fella jumped him. And when he came to, it was gone.”

“I thought maybe Ned or Bill had swiped it when they found him out cold.” Hiram turned his guileless gray blue eyes toward the cave entrance. “Doesn’t seem likely Milzie would have gotten it from one of them.”

“No, but she’s known to have walked off with things she fancied. These pins, for instance. Libby said something about pins, and didn’t Griff mention a blanket pin?” Ethan picked up the largest of the pin collection. “I’m betting this belongs to Griffin, though there’s probably no way to prove it. But that knife, I’m 99 percent sure about, and Griffin can confirm it.”

Hiram’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked down at the other items they’d found. “What else ya got?”

“Some shell casings. And some money. Not much.” Ethan laid out a few coins. “Griffin also said some change was missing. And there’s this.” He laid a wrinkled but folded red kerchief on the rock beside the pins.

Hiram reached out one finger and touched it. “That bears a fair resemblance to one Gert had. She missed it one day after their shooting club met.”

“When?”

“Back along when they first started meeting. Libby came home with her one day to talk about buying ammunition. While she was there, Gert missed it.”

The fact that Milzie stole from people all over town troubled Ethan, but that didn’t prove anything so far as the murders and other crimes were concerned. He looked down on the burnt cabin again. “I sure wish we’d known what dire straits she was in.”

Hiram nodded.

“Trudy and I—” Ethan stopped and felt the blood rush to his face. “That is, Gert and I agree that whoever hit Griffin isn’t the one who did the murders. He didn’t leave a penny at the livery.”

“Unless Milzie picked that up, too.” Hiram held the knife up and looked closely at where the tang fit into the hilt.

“Never thought of that,” Ethan admitted. “She could have stolen the penny.”

“Any 1866 pennies in that collection?”

Ethan examined the coins carefully. “Nope. But she could have spent it.”

“Maybe so.” Hiram’s brow furrowed, and he picked up one of the safety pins. “Bert.”

“What about him?”

“His suspenders were loose.”

Ethan felt a fearsome dread in his chest. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go where Hiram was leading him. “Just exactly what are you getting at?”

Hiram squeezed his lips together and very slowly writhed in a shrug.

“No, Hiram, come on. You know she can’t have killed Bert.”

Hiram’s eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened.

Ethan shook his head. “Because he was a lot taller than her, for one thing.”

“Could have been bending over near the bunk.”

“Oh, and she left the penny under his body? You think Milzie would do that? Next you’ll tell me she clobbered Griff, too. Hi, think about it. She stole coins. She didn’t leave them for other people to find. And she wouldn’t set the Paragon Emporium on fire. Libby gave her more stuff than just about anybody.”

“Not until after the fire.”

Ethan frowned. “You’re making my head hurt again. But there’s one thing that proves Milzie wasn’t the killer.” Hiram nodded slowly. “She’s dead.”

“That’s right. And she died in a way that shows someone else killed her. And that person left the penny in her blood. The same person left the pennies when he killed Bert and when he set the fire at the emporium.”

Hiram laid the knife and the safety pin on the rock. “All right. I’m with you so far. But has there got to be another killing before we learn who did it?”

“No, Bitsy, wait.” Gert grabbed Isabel’s forearm and squeezed, none too gently. She stared into the teacher’s face, wanting to scream at her, but no suitable words found their way to her tongue.

Annie filled the silence. “Bitsy, you don’t need to go. It’s very kind of you to want to help. Why, any woman in our shooting club who needs a hand will get it.”

“That was my understanding.” Bitsy hesitated. “But if I’m not wanted …” She lowered her head. “I thought things were different in town now. In the club, at least.”

“They are.” Gert let go of Isabel’s arm and walked over to Bitsy. “The club has taught us all a lot of lessons, and you, Bitsy, are one of this town’s most valuable business owners. Your selflessness in patrolling and serving as a deputy sheriff to help others is exemplary.”

Bitsy licked her violently red lips. “Thank you, Gert. I was hoping I could be a neighbor, too. I’ve never had much chance to do that.” She flashed a bitter smile. “I’ll see you later at the club meeting.” Again she turned away.

As she reached the door, Isabel stirred.

“Miss Shepard!”

Bitsy stopped, hovering like the red sun at dawn. Slowly she turned, eyeing Isabel through narrow slits of eyes edged by thick black lashes. “Yes?”

Isabel’s lips trembled. She took two steps forward and extended her right hand. “You … are welcome here. Thank you for coming.”

Bitsy met her in the middle of the floor and took her hand for an instant then released it. “I’m glad to be here.”

“Then if you’d care to assist me, I was about to begin on the dining room floor.”

Gert let out her breath in a slow stream.
Thank You, Lord
.

They all fell to work and soon had both kitchen and dining room transformed. Myra took a broom to the top of the staircase and swept her way down. As she reached the bottom step, Goldie arrived carrying a coffeepot wrapped in towels.

“Hurry, Miss Bitsy! My arm’s about to fall off.”

Bitsy dropped her mop and dashed to take the pot from her, then faced them all with a big smile. “Wipe your hands, ladies. Time for a morsel. Then I must get back to my own work. Goldie can stay awhile and help you get those bedrooms gussied up.”

They sat on the stairs, a crate, and two stools Isabel had unearthed. Bitsy poured the coffee with the dignity of a duchess, and Goldie removed the linen napkin from the roll basket and passed it to the damp, dirty women. Gert’s hair had come loose and hung about her shoulders. She pushed it back and took one of Augie’s cinnamon rolls. The smell of them alone set her mouth watering.

With the first bite, she closed her eyes. “Mmm. If I could make anything half this good …”

“What?” asked Myra. “I’d patent it.”

Gert opened her eyes in time to see Isabel take her first bite and chew slowly. A look of adoration crossed her face. Her eyes brightened. She swallowed, and her lips pursed.

“Miss Shepard …”

“Yes, Miss Fennel?”

“Do you … sell these rolls at your place of business?”

Bitsy chuckled and waved her hand. “Naw, Augie just makes them for the girls and me now and again.”

“Usually for Monday breakfast,” Goldie piped up.

“I was wondering.” Isabel hesitated. “Do you suppose Mr. Moore would have the time or the inclination to do some baking for the boardinghouse?”

“What a novel idea,” Bitsy said. “He’s quite busy at the Spur & Saddle, but if you’d like, I shall ask him.”

Gert pictured the brawny, bald bouncer creating fancy breads and pastries for prim and proper Isabel’s clients. She took another bite of the confection.
I always knew anything was possible with You, Lord, but after this morning, I truly believe it
.