CHAPTER 25

Much later that evening, Gert poured coffee for Ethan and Hiram at the kitchen table.

Ethan rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Thanks. Mrs. Benton will come after breakfast with Annie Harper, and you can all go over to the livery together to work on the body.” When he glanced up at her, the dark shadows beneath his eyes stood out. A few weeks of sheriffing had aged him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course. I wish I’d done more for her while she was alive. She never begged outright, but I could see she was hungry.”

Ethan blew on his coffee and took a sip.

“Libby said she pilfered a few things from the store,” Gert said. “She felt sorry for her and started giving her leftovers—broken crackers, dented tins, the last pickle in the barrel.”

Hiram’s eyes spoke to her with his direct gaze and quirked eyebrows.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’d best tell Ethan.”

“Tell me what?”

“Mrs. Benton and I drove out to Milzie’s place this morning to visit her.”

Ethan’s brows shot up, but he waited in silence.

Gert cleared her throat. “We, uh, got a surprise. Milzie’s cabin had burned flat.”

“What? When did that happen?”

“No one seems to know. Milzie wasn’t home, but we saw signs that she’s been living in the cave up the hill where Frank tried to mine.”

Ethan nodded. “I know the place.”

“Well, she wasn’t anywhere around, so we stopped at the Robinsons’ on the way home. Lyman and Ruth said they didn’t know. Can you imagine? They live that close to her, and they haven’t been up to her place since last winter. Ruth’s been poorly this spring, I guess. She said Milzie stops in now and again, and they usually give her something to eat. But when we told them the cabin was burnt, they seemed shocked. Lyman took on a case of guilt, saying he ought to have checked on her. But they’d seen her several times this spring, so they figured she was the same as usual.”

“Too bad. I think your shooting club did more for her than anything.” Ethan raised his cup again.

Gert went to the pie safe and took out the leftover flapjacks she’d saved. “I figure it had to happen in the night, and no one saw the smoke. The last Lyman could tell me for sure that he’d seen it standing was early February. You two want a pancake with jam?”

Ethan looked at Hiram before answering. When Hiram nodded, he said, “Don’t mind if I do.”

Gert put the plate on the table between them and took the jam pot from the cupboard. She gave them each a knife, and they set to work spreading the flapjacks with jam, rolling them up, and wolfing them down. She’d meant to save them over for Hi’s breakfast with a couple of eggs, but no matter. These two had done a man’s work this evening, and they deserved a snack.

Ethan ate three and then licked his fingers. “Sugar’s good for folks who’ve had a shock.”

“How shocking was it?” she asked.

“Worse than Bert. A lot worse. I hate to have you ladies see her like that.”

Gert shrugged. “Someone’s got to clean her up. I mean, you can’t just bury a person all …”

“Her clothes are right filthy, too.”

She sat down at the end of the table, with Hiram and Ethan on either side of her. “We should have done more.”

Hiram scrunched up his face as though he’d eaten a mustard pickle. “Do more for someone else.”

“That’s a good thought,” Gert said. “I felt like a hypocrite after Apphia and I saw how she was living.”

“It’s not your job to make sure everyone in Fergus is eating three square meals a day.” Ethan’s face flushed a bit, and he added quickly, “Though I’m grateful for the meals you’ve served this stray.”

“Well, I think Hi’s right that we can do more for other people. There’s a lot of folks living hand to mouth around here. How long since anyone’s seen old Jeremiah Colburn, for instance? He’s got a flock of sheep on his place east of here, but I don’t recall seeing him for a long time.”

“I heard Zach Harper mention him the other day,” Ethan said. “He’d come and wanted to trade three roosters to Zach for a hen. He gave him two.”

“Well, good.” Gert rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “I just hate to think of these poor old people dying alone.”

Hiram drained his coffee cup and set it down. “Milzie wasn’t alone.”

Sadness swept over Gert, and a painful lump rose in her throat. “I’ve been thinking about it.” She pressed her lips together and nodded. “I don’t know what Milzie was doing in Cyrus’s office tonight, but it could have been anyone who was attacked—anyone who went there at the wrong time. It could just as easily have been Isabel who was murdered.”

Ethan frowned, and the lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “Hiram told me about the other night when Isabel saw the man in the alley.”

Gert wasn’t surprised that her brother had told Ethan the tale. They talked a fair amount when she wasn’t around, and Hiram took Ethan’s new responsibilities as seriously as Ethan did. “What if she’d gone looking for her father tonight instead of that night?”

“Yes.” Ethan turned his cup around slowly, as though studying its design. “I’ve kept an eye out since, for men loitering about in the evening.”

Hiram inhaled deeply. “You think that fella might have killed Milzie?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Hiram set his jaw for a minute then shrugged.

“Well, I have ideas about who killed Milzie,” Gert said.

Ethan eyed her cautiously. “Plan on telling me?”

She hesitated. She wouldn’t want him laughing at her. On the other hand, she’d had nothing to do but think while he and Hiram did their duty over at the Wells Fargo office tonight. Maybe she’d had more time to cogitate on it than either one of them had.

“Who found Milzie’s body?” she asked.

“Cyrus Fennel. He’d been over to the Nugget. I saw him leave the saloon carrying a bottle. I left shortly after he did, and I saw him come out of his office all in a dither.” Ethan gave a grim little smile. “I thought he was drunk. He got sick.”

“So did Ned Harmon.” Hiram stood and took his mug to the stove, where he refilled it with coffee.

Gert started to tell him he’d be awake all night if he kept drinking coffee, but she thought better of it. Hiram was thirty-three years old, and he could drink coffee if he wanted to. “So Cyrus was the first to see the body.”

Ethan nodded. “So far as we know.”

“And who found Bert Thalen’s body?”

“Uh … I guess it was Cy—hey, you don’t think—” His forehead furrowed like a plowed field. “You’re not saying one of our leading citizens is going around killing folks, are you?”

“I’m not saying anything. I just think it’s very interesting that we’ve had two murders in this town in the last six weeks, and the same person found both bodies.” She looked at Hiram. “Don’t you find that interesting, Hi?”

He pursed his lips and nodded.

Ethan slapped the table. “You two beat all. Cyrus was here the day Bert died, to pick up his rifle. I saw you shoot it, remember?”

“Yes. But he left here, and we started eating supper.”

“He said he found Bert dead and then ran over to the Walkers’, looking for the mayor.”

“And at some point, he told Griffin Bane,” Gert added.

“That’s right. I think Cy saw him on the street. And I recollect he found the mayor in the emporium, so pretty near everyone in town heard about it.”

Gert nodded. “And tonight he goes into his office alone and comes out yelling murder.”

“Not exactly. But you’re right that he found both bodies.” Ethan pushed back his chair. “Gert, you’re almost making me believe it, and that’s not good. I saw Cyrus just a few minutes before he sounded the alarm both times.”

“Think on it,” she said.

“I will. But right now I’m heading home to get some sleep. I’m frazzled, and there’s a lot to do tomorrow.” He reached for his hat and set it firmly on his head. “Wish I’d brought Scout over here instead of leaving him at the livery.”

“Milzie’s all covered up,” Hiram said. “You won’t have to see her again.”

Ethan nodded without meeting his gaze. “Well, good night. Thanks for helping out, Hi. And Gert, thanks for the eats and the advice.”

She watched him go out and close the back door gently behind him.

“What’s the matter?”

At Hiram’s question, she realized she was scowling. Just the fact that she was disappointed exasperated her. She clawed at her apron strings. “That man.”

“He’s a good man.”

“I know it.”

Hiram cocked his head to one side and waited.

“He called me Trudy last week, and I said …” Still her brother waited. She wished she hadn’t started. Her face was heating up, and she hated that. “Why did you tell him about that anyway?”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“If you’re mad, I am.”

“I’m not mad. Not at you.”

“At Ethan?”

She tugged the knot loose and pulled off her apron. “I told him I didn’t mind, but he went back to calling me Gert.”

“That bother you?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to call you Trudy?”

“No.”

Hiram nodded and carried his and Ethan’s dishes to the worktable and set them down. He walked over to her and stooped to place a light kiss on her cheek. “Didn’t mean to cause a stir. Though some folks beg to be stirred.”

He took a candlestick from a shelf and lit the taper, then shuffled off through the sitting room.

“Humph.” Gert lit a candle and blew out the lamp.