Felicity answered and invited her inside. “I haven’t seen you lately. How’s Jeff?”
“Still unconscious but his color is better. I came to ask a favor of your father.”
Colin Singleton came up behind Felicity. “What can I do?”
Deborah explained about being afraid to be out alone after dark and asked if he and maybe Mr. Ferguson or another neighbor would take food to her father.
“You bet we will. You get the basket ready and I’ll round up several men to go with me.”
She waved to Felicity and hurried home. By the time she had a picnic basket filled with enough for several men tonight—just in case—and breakfast in the morning, she heard men’s voices. When she opened the door, Colin had recruited Liam Ferguson, Ambrose Green, and elderly Arnold Altoff to go with him.
Liam carried a large basket. “We thought we might eat with him. Cheer him up a bit.”
“Oh, it would, Mr. Ferguson. Thank you gentlemen so much.” She handed the basket she’d prepared.
Dusk had fallen and she thought her father would be hungry by now. He’d looked so tired and worried when she had taken his lunch. A visit from friends would cheer him.
She went to sit with her mother and brother.
***
Trey smiled as he read another of the Twain stories. He was glad his father hadn’t taken the book home after all. He stopped and stood when a loud explosion ripped the night air.
Claud leaped to his feet and peered out the front window. “Looks like there’s a fire at the Gazette.”
He handed Trey a rifle and a revolver. “Wallis, keep guard on the door. I need to get the fire wagon.”
Milton ran into the office. “On my way to relieve you when we heard the explosion. Virgil’s probably there by now.”
“I’m headed for the fire wagon.” Claud raced from the office.
The Chief Deputy glanced at Trey. “Good, I see you’re armed. Wallis, you can go home now.”
The gunsmith shook his head. “Naw, I’ll stay until we see if that was a distraction because there’s gonna be a run on the jail.”
***
Virgil joined Arnold Altoff beating at the flames eating the newspaper building’s front. Inside the office, three men beat at the bottle bomb’s flames with blankets from the office cot. Smoke filled the building. Virgil didn’t know where the rug he was using had come from but Arnold had tossed it to him.
Smoke billowed and they coughed. His eyes stung as if they were on fire. The intense heat created a barrier but he slapped at the flames.
Scott Ferguson ran over with a shovel and scooped dirt from the street onto the outside fire. Men drifted from every direction to help. Some brought buckets.
Virgil held up his hand. “No water or the fire will spread. These were oil bottle bombs.”
By the time the fire wagon arrived, the flames were contained but smoke still filled the street in front of the building then rolled upward in a plume. Embers still glowed red in places.
The men who’d fought the blaze stood in the street gasping for air, except for Herman Taber. He held a handkerchief to his nose and mouth and stood in the doorway, keeping watch on his building.
Virgil mopped at his face with a handkerchief. “Herman, you see who threw those?”
Herman shook his head then coughed. “We were eating supper and talking near the back.”
He scrubbed a hand across his face and indicated the crowd as well as the men who’d helped. “I can’t thank you enough for turning out to offer your support.”
He addressed the men who’d wielded blankets. “If you men hadn’t been here, I couldn’t have stopped these fires in time to save the newspaper.”
Arnold hitched up his britches. “Blasted fool who tossed them bombs could have burned the whole dang town.”
Claud used leather gloves to pick up the bottle that hit the outside and handed it to Rick Tippen, his assistant. “Stash this somewhere safe while I look for the other bottle.”
The fire chief walked inside.
Virgil followed. “Man, would you look at the mess?”
The front counter was a total loss. The floor was burned through in one place. Two blankets used to beat the flames were singed and blackened rags. Shards from the front plate glass window littered the floor beneath.
Claud scanned the room. “This would have made one heck of a blaze with all this paper and chemicals. When you catch who did this I hope you throw him under the jail.”
“I hope I find him before he does any more damage. If Herman and his friends hadn’t been here, the place would have gone up before anyone knew it.”
“Like Altoff said, wouldn’t stop here. The fire would have spread through downtown in a flash. No way our equipment could fight something like that.”
Virgil rubbed at his chest where a spark had burned through his shirt. “If Herman had been alone, he’d likely have died trying to save his business. I don’t mind telling you, whoever is behind this is evil.”
“By the way, Fayne Barton was at the office today complaining. Taber girl lit into him for criticizing her father’s paper and her reporting.”
Virgil raised his eyebrows. “Really? Well now, that is interesting. I’ll have a talk with Barton and see what he knows about bottle bombs. I always thought Eric was the one who blew up Kirby’s dam. Maybe it was Fayne—or the two of them working together.”
Claud picked up what was left of a bottle that had contained oil. “Looks like the one I found outside. I’ll see if they turn out to offer a clue.”
Virgil clapped Herman on the shoulder. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Herman. You have a terrible mess to clean up and some rebuilding to do.”
The newspaperman sagged against the building. “At least the paper is spared. This time. First my son, now this. I hate to imagine what’s next.”
Ambrose Green braced his hands on his hips and faced the newspaperman. “Herman, we talked it over. Colin and Liam are going home. Colin needs to oversee building his brewery tomorrow. Liam will return and spend the day here with you. Arnold and I are staying here to help clean up this mess. Plus, we aren’t leaving you alone tonight with this kind of nut on the loose.”
Herman appeared as if he were going to cry. “Thank you, Ambrose. I won’t turn down your help. You men being here at this terrible time means the world to me.”
Chapter Seven
After Trey heard what had happened at the newspaper office, he spent the night worrying. The next morning, a boy of about ten or eleven came to sweep the office. Trey watched him carefully collect all of the sweepings and dump them into the trash can.
“Young man, do you do errands for people?”
The boy paused. “Sorry, sir, I ain’t supposed to talk to prisoners.”
Arthur Wallis nodded to the boy. “You can talk to him. This here is Trey Pearson and he’s not a prisoner. He’s here on protective custody.”
The gunsmith looked at Trey. “This is Freddie Pate, soon to be the wealthiest person in town. I’ve never seen a boy work as hard as Freddie.”
Freddie moved closer to the cells. “What’s that mean… ’tective custody?”
Trey took a coin from his pocket. “I’m here so the sheriff and his deputies can protect me from some men who wanted to hang me. They thought I killed someone, but I didn’t and the sheriff knows that.”
“I heard about that man what died and Jeff being shot too.” Eyes narrowed, Freddie took a step closer. “You want an errand done?”
Trey held up the half dollar. “If you’ll take a note to Miss Taber at her home, I’ll give you this coin.”
Freddie’s eyes gleamed. “I can do that. I know where that house is. I know where most folks in town live.”
Trey pulled the note he’d written from his shirt pocket and handed it and the coin through the unlocked door. “As soon as you’re finished here, can you take this to Miss Taber?”
“I will. I hafta empty the trash and then I’ll
be through.” He parked the broom and dust pan in their corner, picked up the trash can, and headed for the door. When he returned, he set the rubbish bin where it had been.
“I’ll take your note to Miss Deborah now.” Freddie took off at a run.
The gunsmith-deputy chuckled. “I tell you the truth, that boy is going to be rich someday.”
***
Deborah paced the room. She and her mother had been horrified when they learned about the fire. She closed her eyes against the images in her mind. Papa would have died if the men had not been with him.
Had someone intended him to die? Or, was the plan only to destroy the newspaper? Either was a heinous idea.
The sound of the doorbell startled her out of her pondering. “Hello, Freddie.”
“This man, I can’t remember his name, paid me to give you this. Reckon I should wait to see if you want to send one back?”
“That’s a good idea. Would you like a piece of cake and a glass of milk while I read this? Why don’t we go into the kitchen?” Curiosity sped up her movements as she set out the refreshments for the boy.
She read the note as Freddie devoured his treat.
Deborah,
I’m so sorry to hear what happened to the newspaper last night. I give thanks no one was badly injured. I feel partially responsible. I’m not making accusations, but I feel the fair treatment I’ve received has created enemies for your family’s newspaper. Please don’t write anything about me or my family until this mystery is solved. Otherwise, you could be a target too.
I hope Jeff is improved.
Trey
She clutched the note to her heart. What a lovely thing for him to do. “Freddie, I’m going to write a reply. Would you like another slice of cake?”
He licked the last crumbs from his fork. “I could eat lots more. That’s the best cake I’ve ever eaten.”
She replenished the boy’s plate and glass before she hurried to the desk.
Trey,
Thank you for your note. I appreciate your concern. You can imagine how the fire bombs and damage from them have upset our family. I, too, am thankful no one was seriously injured by the threat. All the same, I am confident Papa will print the truth and news as he sees fit and will not be intimidated.
Jeff mumbled this morning! Even though he is not awake, we are much encouraged. Doctor Ross believes he is healing and should regain consciousness soon.
Deborah
When she’d folded the note she dug a dime from her purse. “The man who gave you the note is Trey Pearson. Will you take this to him?”
He took the paper but left the coin. “Yes, ma’am, but you don’t need to pay me. He already gave me a half dollar and I had all that cake and milk.”
“I insist.” She pushed the dime toward him. “What do you do with the money you earn?”
He transferred the money to his pocket. “Most goes into an account in the bank. Pa says it’s not safe to carry it around or store it at home. I use a little to buy treats for my sisters and brother and me. I plan to open my own real business someday.”
“I’d say you have a real business now. I’m sure you’ll be successful in whatever you choose.”
When he’d gone, she slipped into Jeff’s room.
Her mother sat holding her brother’s hand. “Occasionally he says a word I can understand but nothing that makes sense.”
“I’m so thankful he’s getting better.” She hugged her mother’s shoulders and guided her toward the door. “Go rest, Mama. If he wakes up, I’ll call you.”
She sat down and resumed from where she’d stopped reading Innocents Abroad to her brother.
***
Virgil stopped by his office. “I swear I don’t seem to be getting anywhere. I wish Jeff would wake up and tell me what he saw.”
Trey looked up from his book. “Deborah said he’s mumbling now and Doctor Ross believes he’ll regain consciousness soon.”
The sheriff peered out the window. “Your family has arrived so you might as well go home with them. After the bombing last night while you were in here, no one can blame you.”
Trey gathered up his belongings. “I sure appreciate your treatment, Virgil. For starters, I reckon I owe you my life.”
Virgil bowed. “All part of our service. If you change your mind and decide to be hanged, I promise you we’ll use a new rope.”
Arthur laughed. “Isn’t he kind?”
He shuddered at the memory of how close he came to being lynched. “Thanks all the same. I like my neck just the way it is—not stretched. Well, after a couple of days in here it could use a little more soap and water, but otherwise I’m happy.”
His family swarmed in. His father was the first to spot he was out of the cell.
A wide grin settled on Deuce’s face. “You can come home?” He turned to Virgil. “What happened at the newspaper office? When we came by it looked like disaster had struck.
Punctuated by gasps from the Pearson family, Virgil explained what had happened. “Whole town could have burned.”
The family loaded into the buggy. Trey squeezed into the back seat with his mother and grandmother.
“Could we stop by the Taber home? I want to talk to Mrs. Taber and then I’d like to stop by the newspaper. I want to assure them I’m innocent of shooting Jeff.”
Grandpa clicked the reins and turned down Houston Street toward Deborah’s home. While it was important for her parents to believe him innocent, the main reason was the effect their opinion made on her. How could he court her if her parents believed him a killer?
Deuce glanced over his shoulder. “They ought to know that by now. Say, why don’t we see if you can keep those books Miss Taber loaned you a little longer?”
Grandpa looked over his shoulder. “That’s a good idea. I’d like to read that one about the toad.”
Grandma sniffed. “They should have realized you’re not a murderer in the first place.”
Trey kept silent on the two-block ride. When the buggy stopped in front of the Taber home, he hopped down and extended his hand to his mother.
“Are you coming with me?”
She accepted his help. “I certainly am.”
Muttering, his father and grandfather climbed down and his grandfather helped Grandma. Their group stopped at the front door and Trey turned the door ringer.
In his opinion, Deborah recovered from her initial shock quickly. “What a lovely surprise. Please come in.”
When they were in the parlor, he stood to one side. “How is Jeff?”
“About the same. Did you want to see him?”
“Actually, I came to speak to your mother.”
“She’s sitting with Jeff.” She turned to his family. “If you’ll be seated and excuse us, I’ll be right back and offer you refreshments.”
He followed her down the hall.
Mrs. Taber looked up as they entered and her face went from pleasant to angry to a firm mask.
“Mama, Trey wants to speak to you. His family is here so I’ll go to the parlor and talk with them.” Deborah cast a worried look over her shoulder and left the room.
Her mother assessed him. “Well, what do you have to say?”
He knelt in front of her and took her hand. “Mrs. Taber, it’s important to me that you know I would never hurt Jeff. I don’t know who shot him and Eric, but I’m not to blame. I give you my word of honor.”
She clasped her free hand to her throat. “I-I don’t know what to say. When they brought him here one of the men said you were the one who shot him. Ron Novak corrected him, but I got it into my head you were guilty.”
“Jeff is my friend. I want the person responsible caught as much as you do.”
She pulled free and dabbed her handkerchief at the tears on her cheeks. “I see the honesty in your face. I suppose I needed someone to blame.”
“I can understand that. Seeing my friend like this is terrible for me. For you, watching him must be almost unbearable.”
/> She searched his face. “A nightmare. We read to him and talk to him because the doctor said that might help. I never know if he hears or not.”
He held her shoulders gently. “Virgil Witt is a good sheriff. He will find the person responsible.”
She straightened her spine and regained her composure. “Thank you for coming in person.” She patted his arm and offered a glimpse of a smile. “I’m sorry now that I blamed you.”
“I’ll sit with Jeff if you’d like to visit with my family. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him.”
Her hand went to her hair. “Oh, I must look a fright.”
He shook his head and smiled. “You look like a concerned mother. Remember I’ve been under protective custody at the jail to prevent vigilantes from hanging me. My mother and grandmother understand.”
***
Deborah hurried to make tea and slice the lemon cake for the Pearsons. There were four slender slices left but only if she divided them carefully. She loaded everything on the tea trolley and went to the parlor. Her visitors smiled but she caught Deuce slapping his hat against his knee.
“I apologize for abandoning you. You were so kind to stop by.” As quickly as she could, she served her guests. Thank goodness the best napkins were clean, starched, and ironed.
Wade Pearson swallowed a bite of cake. “Say, this is delicious.”
“Thank you. I make it more often than I should because it’s my father’s favorite. We’re fortunate to have access to plenty of eggs from Mrs. Wallis’ hens.”
Marianne swirled her fork against the icing. “This is so interesting. I’ve never had a cake iced on the sides as well as the top. I admit I like the taste and contrast.”
“Six layers, my goodness. You must have spent hours making this.” Trey’s mother watched her. “Aren’t you having any?”
“I had a slice earlier.” She sipped her tea, hoping she looked as if she were telling the truth and tried to change the subject. “Isn’t it wonderful that Trey doesn’t have to remain at the jail?”
Deuce shook his head. “Not so wonderful when you consider that your shop being bombed is one of the reasons he’s released. Sure sorry to hear about that.”
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