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Adele inhaled the freshness of the morning and welcomed the sensation of new life the frosty air brought. She hadn’t ever been so confident, and to her, Port Summerhill hadn’t looked so colorful. With the weather warming, snow melted leaving muddy streets and piles of crusty ice that bordered the wooden boardwalk. Sunlight shimmered in puddles on the road, and steam drifted off rooftops.
After having stopped at the jailhouse, Mr. Fernsworth reined in the mules in front of the bank, jumped to the ground, and opened her door. Adele took his hand as support and stepped down.
“Careful of the mud, Miss Adele,” he said.
She gave him a smile and squeezed his hand.
“I’m becoming much more aware of murky things these days, thank you, Mr. Fernsworth. Wait for me I won’t be but a few minutes.”
“Yes ma’am.”
She breathed the frosty air and soaked in a moment of sunshine. The day could not be brighter, she thought to herself, for today she would win her prize. No one could stop her now!
She wore a dress she borrowed from her auntie this morning, no more of the poor girl’s woollies, and lifted her skirt so that mud wouldn’t soil it. Once on the boardwalk, she adjusted the scarf that tied her hat, took a deep breath, and smiled again at Mr. Fernsworth. He nodded in return. When she eyed Marshal Carry stepping into the street with two deputies walking toward her, she opened the door.
Only a few people were in the bank, mostly tellers and two financiers holding a private conversation by the windows along the wall. Adele skipped the formalities and walked down the hall daring anyone to stop her, her head held high, the shine of her skirt catching sun rays that filtered through the eyebrow windows above her.
She raised her hand to knock on Mary Seller’s door, reconsidered, turned the brass handle, and walked in uninvited. The woman she sought stood and her son, the red-headed Matt, jumped from his seat in surprise.
“What is this?” Miss Sellers asked.
“This is the person who has discovered your corruption, Miss Sellers, and I want you to know you haven’t, nor will you ever get away with your lethal scheme to make your son rich.”
“What are you talking about?” Mary asked and turned to Matt. “Go summons the marshal.”
Matt brushed by Adele on his way out the door.
“You needn’t go far, he’s on his way here, already,” Adele responded.
He stopped and turned.
“I want you to know before you’re arrested, Miss Sellers, that you near ruined the life of the kindest, most gentle man in all of Port Summerhill. I want you to know that what you did to him scared him horrendously, and it could have been for life, but it won’t be. He’ll rise above your nasty ruse and live to be a great man. Everyone who knows him will love him. Not so with you, Miss Sellers. Your evil plot to ruin him has turned on you.”
The door opened, and Adele stepped back as Marshal Carry entered with his deputies.
“Sorry for this intrusion, Miss Sellers, but I’m going to have to arrest you for attempted murder.”
“That’s absurd. I did nothing.” She paled and held her hand over her heart. “You can’t arrest me on the word of this...this street woman!”
“Miss Adele brought our attention to the matter, and we have a confession from one of our prisoners. If it hadn’t been for Adele here, we wouldn’t have thought to ask.”
“What prisoner? Who would say such a thing?”
“Benjamin Barrington, ma’am. One of your hitmen.”
The deputies each took one of her arms.
“Wait! Stop,” she protested. Her hat fell off her head as she struggled. “I never meant for them to kill him. I only wanted them to take his briefcase.”
The deputies lessened their hold on her. She straightened her dress and fixed her hat. “I didn’t ask them to hurt him. I was only after documents concerning the estate. I’m not responsible for what they did to him. We wanted the Will, that’s all.”
“For what, Miss Sellers?” Adele asked.
Tears formed in the woman’s eyes. “To destroy it, what else? If there were no Will, then Richard would have the deed, and he promised when the property sold Matt would have a share of the profits. It’s the least he could do for us. I was only looking out for my son’s benefit.”
“And who looked out for Grai’s?” Adele asked.
“Miss Sellers, you can plead your case in court. If you don’t come willingly now, we must be rough with you. Is that what you want?”
“Mother let them take you, we’ll fight it in court,” Matt said. “And we’ll see to it you won’t bother us again,” he told Adele.
“Don’t be threatening Miss Adele,” Marshal Carry interrupted him. “If anything happens to her, we’ll know who to come for.”
The deputies bound Miss Sellers and escorted her out the door. Her son, red faced, followed.
Adele waited a moment in the office, eyeing the papers on Mary Seller’s desk—probate papers with Bonneville’s signature. Next to them, soaking on an ink pad, was a notary stamp. Adele took the papers, folded them carefully and tucked them in her purse.
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