CHAPTER 8

Ethan made his rounds that evening at a measured pace. He’d just come from an enjoyable half hour in Trudy’s kitchen, instructing the ladies on how to frame their inquiries about the Pearts. Some of the old-timers of Fergus had given him a few scraps of information. Several folks had recalled that Frank Peart was from New Jersey, and Ethan had probed the memories of those who had been in town the longest.

Charles Walker, the former mayor of Fergus, remembered the name of a town Frank had talked about. Ethan had borrowed a geography book from Isabel during the school’s lunch hour and found that the town was just outside Elizabeth, a fair-sized city. He’d decided to inquire of the city clerk as well, in case some of the Peart family records were filed there. A wire to the U.S. marshal in Boise might turn up something, and he’d passed the name of an attorney in the territorial capital to Trudy. She would write to the lawyer and explain the situation, asking for any advice the man could give the sheriff. Ethan was confident that within a few weeks they would learn something.

He mounted the steps to the Spur & Saddle. Nine months ago, he’d cringed to enter the saloons. Now it didn’t bother him. It was a regular part of his job. Bitsy’s place wasn’t bad, anyway. Inside, it looked like a swanky hotel lobby. Bitsy’d had the piano and two velvet-covered settees hauled all the way up here by mule train. She did all right. Lots of regular patrons came here once a week or more.

Now, the Nugget, at the other end of Main Street, sang a different tune. The plain, square building held a few tables, a rustic bar, and short benches. Men didn’t go in there for the atmosphere. The former owner had made plans to improve the place, but right now, Ted Hire was running the Nugget. He seemed to be doing all right, but who could really say? Maybe Oscar Runnels, who freighted in the liquor for him. But Ted kept his business affairs to himself.

Ethan took only a few steps into the Spur & Saddle. On a Thursday evening, things weren’t too lively. About ten men sat in the cushioned chairs or on the settees with their drinks in their hands. Three played a quiet poker game. The rest conversed with each other or the ladies serving drinks. Funny how he thought of Bitsy, Goldie, and Vashti as ladies now. A year ago, he’d have blushed scarlet to think about the saloon women. Now he considered Bitsy a friend and ally, if an eccentric one, and he knew Trudy cared about Bitsy and her girls as well.

Augie stood behind the bar and waved. Ethan nodded to him. Bitsy sat at a table, engaged in conversation with a gentleman Ethan didn’t recognize, but he had the look of a salesman. Probably staying overnight at the Fennel House, the boardinghouse owned by the number-one landlord of Fergus, good old Cyrus.

Vashti, the dark-haired girl, caught his eye as she sashayed across from the bar to the poker players, balancing a tray with three glasses on it. She smiled broadly, and Ethan had to admit the girl had a pleasant face. He turned away before he could form any impressions of the rest of her. Augie and the ladies had everything under control. He rarely had to take action at the Spur & Saddle.

He strolled across the street and passed the end of Harper Lane and the Walkers’ house. Lamplight streamed from the parlor windows of the yellow house. Ethan thought of stopping in to see how the former mayor was doing, but he shrank from the almost certainly sour reception Orissa Walker would give him. Charles hadn’t fully recovered after being shot last summer, and he’d had to give up his position as mayor. Just couldn’t keep up with things anymore. Orissa seemed to take it personally that she was no longer the mayor’s wife, but no way could she keep that position when her husband couldn’t serve.

After the shooting, Ethan had wondered if Cyrus Fennel would manage to get himself named mayor, but the folks had demanded a vote. They’d elected a man everyone truly liked: postmaster Peter Nash, Walker’s next-door neighbor. Things had been quiet since, to Ethan’s relief. He’d spent a quiet winter on the ranch, riding into town most days and taking his time courting Trudy. Life in Fergus was good these days. Good and peaceful.

He sauntered on, checking locked storefronts and peering into vacant buildings left over from the Gold Rush of twenty years ago. He even moseyed along the side streets. Quiet. Absolutely, pin-droppingly quiet.

Outside the livery, he found Griffin and Hiram sitting on a couple of hay bales shooting the breeze.

“What are you doing out here, Hi?” Ethan asked.

Hiram rolled his eyes heavenward.

Griffin laughed. “He’s got a kitchen full of women, and he says it’s your fault.”

“Oh yeah.” Ethan leaned against the wall and guffawed. “I expect the ladies will be finished before long.”

The big blacksmith ran a hand through his beard. “He don’t like being booted out of his own house. Can’t say as I blame him.”

“That so?” Ethan eyed Hiram, but he only grimaced and looked skyward. “Tell Trudy. Maybe next time they can meet at Preacher Benton’s house.”

“Yeah,” said Griffin, “or how about Bitsy’s place? She’s got plenty of room.”

Hiram sat up and glared at Griffin.

“Take it easy, now.” Ethan clamped his hand on Hiram’s shoulder. “You know he’s just teasing. We wouldn’t want our womenfolk meeting in a saloon, would we, Griff?”

“Oh, I dunno. Bitsy’s all right. And her bar girls come to church now. I can’t see why it would matter if they had a meeting at the Spur & Saddle.”

“Well, I can.”

Hiram spoke so rarely that both his friends stared at him in surprise.

“Okay,” Griff said. “I won’t suggest it.”

“But I will suggest to Trudy that they might want to meet at someone else’s house next time,” Ethan said. “They can spread the fellowship around. And you know they’re doing this for a good cause.”

“What? So Cyrus can buy up more land?” Hiram shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Another touchy subject, Ethan realized. Ten years ago, Cyrus had bought the ranch Hiram had had his eye on.

Ethan looked toward the rising moon. “Think the ladies are done writing their letters?”

Hiram shrugged and kicked at a pebble on the ground.

“What about that sister-in-law of yours?” Griffin asked. “She writing letters, too?”

Hiram looked uneasy. “She came in the parlor as soon as Ethan left, so I slipped out.”

“Maybe she’s not the sharpshooter type,” Griff suggested.

“Come on,” Ethan said. “It’s getting dark. Let’s go around to your place, Hiram. I’ve a mind to take Trudy walking tonight.”

Griffin chuckled. “I’ll see you boys around.”

The two friends walked in silence past the smithy and across the street. Lamplight shone from the windows of the Nugget. Several horses rubbed stirrups at the hitching rail. The men headed up the boardwalk. As they passed the jail, Ethan threw a cursory glance toward his office. Quiet and dark, just the way he liked it.

Annie Harper and her daughter, Myra, emerged from the path that led to the Dooleys’ back door.

“Evening, ladies,” Ethan called, and Hiram tipped his hat in silence. “Are you finished with your meeting?”

“Hello again, Sheriff,” Annie said. “Yes, we’re the last to leave. Gert—I mean, Trudy—has all the letters ready to be mailed.”

“That’s fine. I appreciate your help.” Ethan smiled and watched them cross the street. Myra looked back over her shoulder and gave a coy wave.

“Ha! She’s waving at you, Hiram.”

“Not me.”

“Well, surely not me. She knows who I’m sweet on, and I’m not ashamed to say so.”

“Yeah, you been sweet on Trudy for a long time.”

“So?”

Hiram shrugged. “You coming in?”

They ambled around to the back. Hiram mounted the stoop first and opened the kitchen door.

“Oh, you’re back,” Trudy said when her brother entered. “You want coffee? We’ve got some cookies, too. Ellie Nash brought them, and there are some left over.” She looked past Hiram and met Ethan’s gaze. Her voice dropped a pitch. “Hello, Ethan.”

“Trudy.”

They stood looking at each other for a long moment. Hiram plopped his hat on its peg and walked to the woodstove. He opened the coffeepot and peered into it. After a moment, he held it out toward Ethan, his eyebrows arched.

“Thanks,” Ethan said, “but if Trudy wants to go walking …”

“Surely.” She turned her gaze to Hiram. “Go ahead and drink that. I’ll put on more so that Ethan can have a fresh cup with you when we get back.”

From the next room, the sound of footsteps on the stairs reached them. Hiram caught his breath, his face freezing in a panicky mask.

“She won’t kill you,” Trudy hissed. “We’ll be back in half an hour. Right, Ethan?”

“No more than that.” Hiram shook his head violently. “Twenty minutes,” Trudy amended.

Ethan gritted his teeth. How was a fellow supposed to court a girl in twenty-minute increments? But anyone could see Hiram did not want to be left alone with his sister-in-law. Light footsteps crossed the parlor toward them.

“Well, let’s head out.” Ethan hoped they could leave before—

“Why, Sheriff! I didn’t expect to see you again tonight.” Too late.

“Uh …” Ethan shot a glance at Trudy and back at the elegant brunette framed in the doorway. She wore a different dress than she had this afternoon, pink and frothy, and her hair was neatly coiffed. “Trudy and I were just going to take a stroll.”

“Yes,” Trudy said. “We’ll be back shortly. Help yourself to coffee if you want some.”

“Oh, I’d love to see the town by moonlight,” Rose said with a broad smile. She walked over to Ethan and laid a hand on his forearm. “Maybe you could point out the sights to me.”

“Uh …”

“Ethan’s courting Trudy,” Hiram said testily.

They all turned and stared at him. He still stood in front of the stove with the coffeepot in his hands.

Rose’s jaw dropped. “Well, I never! How … exciting. Perhaps Hiram and I should go along as chaperones.”

“They don’t need no chaperone,” Hiram said.

Ethan was surprised Trudy hadn’t spoken up and given Rose what for. Hiram’s outburst must have shocked her into silence. He cleared his throat, not sure what Trudy’s reaction would be, but knowing what his mother would have demanded that he do. “Mrs. Caplinger, I’m sure we’d be happy to have you accompany us if you’d care to come along.”

Rose smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you. But since Hiram says it’s all right, I’m sure you have an understanding with him. And with Gert, of course. I think I’ll stay here and keep my brother-in-law company. We haven’t had a chance to discuss the folks back home. I need to catch him up on all the doings in his old neighborhood.”

Trudy opened her mouth and closed it.

Ethan said, “Well then, if you’re sure you don’t mind, we’ll be going. Trudy, do you want your shawl and bonnet? It’s a little cool out tonight.”

While she gathered her wrap and put on her bonnet, Ethan looked over Rose’s shoulder at Hiram. His friend’s face was gray.

“We’ll see you in half an hour,” Ethan said. Hiram scowled. “Or less.”

“Take your time,” Rose said. She took down one of Trudy’s teacups. “We’ll be right here when you return. Won’t we, Hiram?”

Hiram’s shoulders drooped. He walked to the table, poured Rose’s teacup full of coffee, and took a mug for himself from the cupboard. A small stream of coffee trickled from the pot, then gave out. Hiram gazed at it mournfully.

If Trudy noticed, she would stop to start a new pot. Ethan scooted her out the back door and pulled it closed behind them. “Guess it’ll be a short stroll this evening.” He put his hat on.

“It had better be.” She frowned up at him. “I feel guilty leaving them together.”

“Hiram does seem a little on edge around her.”

“You heard her this noon. She’s talking about staying here permanently. Hiram’s petrified. He thinks that somehow he fits into her future plans.”

Ethan reached for her hand. “Let’s not think about that now. What do you say we walk down to the river?”

“No, that would take too long. I’m sorry, Ethan, but I’m worked up myself. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d ask her to stay at the boardinghouse. She’s making Hiram very uncomfortable. But if I did that, she’d wire her mother, and her mother would tell my mother, and then I’d be in trouble. No, we’ve got to be good hosts. But somehow we’ve got to disabuse her of the notion that we want her to live with us.”

Ethan squeezed her hand. “I’m sure it will work out. Do you want to walk out Harper Lane?”

Trudy stopped on the boardwalk. “No. No, I don’t. I don’t know why I’m even out here with you. I should be back there with them. We may not need a chaperone, but Hiram does.”

“Aw, that’s a little extreme, don’t you think? Twenty minutes …”

She put her hand up to his cheek, warm and gentle, and Ethan’s hopes rose. For about three seconds.

“I’m sorry, Ethan. Any other time, I’d love to be out here walking with you. But my brother needs me. Please, let’s go back.”