Carol Cox

by Trouble in Store

  Caleb ripped the stitching along the top of the flour bag and upended it into the barrel. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? We have them on hand in case anyone wants to buy one.”

  Melanie tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor. “You’re missing my point. They have just been collecting dust. Nobody is interested in them. They’re taking up space we ought to be filling with merchandise people are more willing to buy.”

  Caleb shook the last of the flour into the barrel and folded the empty bag over his arm. He gave Melanie a wary look. “Such as?”

  Finally the opening she had been waiting for. “I’m glad you asked. I’ve started a list of items I think will prove to be quite popular.” She pointed to a sheet of paper on the counter.

  Caleb walked over and picked up the page, already half filled with writing. His eyes grew round. “This is only the beginning of your list?”

  She nodded. “We need to bring in more profit, and I believe introducing a wider variety of goods will be a good way to do it.”

  Caleb scanned the list again and ran his free hand through his hair, leaving a streak of flour across his forehead. Melanie braced herself, waiting for the inevitable objection. Instead he returned to the back room, still carrying the flour bag.

  Melanie smiled, pleased at this indication that he was beginning to accept the idea of having her as a full partner. She went back to her inventory, checking it against the items on the next shelf. Even though Caleb obviously had his doubts, she felt sure her idea was a good one. Business had improved somewhat during the week since the town meeting, but it still hadn’t returned to their usual level of sales. Thank goodness for loyal customers like Mrs. Fetterman, the Professor, Micah Rawlins, and Andrew Bingham, who refused to be swayed by idle speculation. Broadening the store’s inventory while keeping their staple items in stock should go a long way toward helping to bring back the rest of their customers, and maybe draw in some new ones.

  And, she reminded herself, the circuit rider was due to arrive the next day. Seeing the store crowded for another worship service would surely help the townspeople overcome their newfound reluctance to set foot across the mercantile’s threshold.

  She hummed as she worked, feeling more rested than she had in days. Since Caleb changed the locks and put drop bars on both the doors a week ago, she had been sleeping much better. A smile curved her lips at the memory of his late-night visit. She couldn’t have been more astonished when the pebble had rattled against her window and she’d discovered him standing outside, concerned for her well-being. It had been a long time since someone had watched out for her like that.

  The bell over the front door jingled, and her spirits soared when Lena Andrews stepped inside. Melanie hadn’t seen the town’s dressmaker in the store in over a week. She gave the woman her brightest smile. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Andrews. What can I get for you today?”

  Instead of answering, the woman fidgeted near the front door, darting anxious glances around the store’s interior. “I need a bolt of muslin, please. And three yards of that blue calico.” She edged a few steps farther inside, while Melanie set her checklist on the counter and pulled the bolts of fabric from the shelf.

  Melanie watched from under her lashes as she unrolled the bolt of calico on the fabric table and prepared to measure out the requested yardage. What was wrong with the woman? She looked positively agitated.

  Melanie offered another smile while she spread the calico out and smoothed it with her hand. “We’re having beautiful weather,” she said in a soothing tone. “Don’t you love the smell of fruit trees in blossom?”

  Mrs. Andrews ducked her head in a quick nod. She inched her way over to the table and watched Melanie cut the fabric. She flicked another glance around the store, then took a deep breath and leaned across the table. At that moment, Caleb walked in from the storeroom. Melanie grinned when she saw he still had a streak of white powder on his hair and forehead.

  “Have you seen that ball of cotton twine?” he asked. “I thought it was on the shelf next to the wrapping paper, but I can’t find it.”

  “Check under the counter,” Melanie told him. “I used it to tie up a parcel for Mrs. Fetterman.”

  He retrieved the twine and nodded his thanks, then smiled at their customer. “Good to see you, Mrs. Andrews.”

  Instead of answering, the dressmaker shrank away and shifted her position to face the opposite direction.

  Melanie folded the calico and pushed it across the table along with the bolt of muslin, staring at her customer with growing concern. “Is something the matter?”

  Mrs. Andrews picked up the bolt of muslin and the cut length of calico and held them close against her chest. Then she leaned forward and pointed toward the door where Caleb had disappeared. “You seem like a nice young woman, so I thought I ought to warn you.”

  Melanie caught her breath in a quick gasp. “Warn me? About what?”

  Mrs. Andrews looked over her shoulder. “Not what . . . who.” She jabbed her finger toward the storeroom again. “There’s something funny about this store and all the goings-on here. Those two brothers being killed was bad enough, but now it looks like someone may have done in George and Alvin, as well. Who’s the one who stood to gain from that, I ask you? Who inherited this store? You’d best be on your guard—you could be next.” She spun around and scuttled out of the store before Melanie could say a word.

  Melanie was still staring at the door when Caleb returned carrying a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine. She looked at him, wondering what on earth Lena Andrews could have been talking about.

  The bell rang again, announcing the arrival of Micah Rawlins. He gave Melanie a genial nod, then crossed over to stand next to Caleb. “Have you heard about the town meeting?”

  Caleb set the parcel down. “Another one? When?”

  “This evening.”

  “No, Marshal Hooper hasn’t said a word to me about it.” Caleb folded his arms. “I’m glad you let me know. I still have time to get things moved around and set up in here.”

  Micah shuffled his feet and looked away. “It isn’t going to be here, Caleb. They’re having it down at O’Shea’s.”

  Caleb’s mouth fell open. “That doesn’t make any sense. We have twice the room.”

  “Well, you know how people talk. I guess some of them aren’t comfortable coming here, considering . . . well, you know.” Micah edged toward the door. “Well, I’d best be on my way. I hate being the bearer of bad tidings, but I wanted to be sure you knew what was going on.”

  When the door swung shut behind him, Melanie walked over to join Caleb. “Considering what? What was that all about?”

  Caleb’s mouth set in a grim line. “I don’t know, but we’re going to be at that meeting tonight, and we’ll find out.”

  By the time they closed up shop for the day and walked down Lincoln Street to O’Shea’s Emporium at the far end of town, the meeting was already underway, with Marshal Hooper trying to stanch the flow of questions being thrown his way.

  There were nearly as many people inside the emporium as had been in the mercantile the night of the first town meeting, and those who found a place to sit were perched on crates, barrels, kegs—any available surface. The rest fit in wherever they could, standing shoulder to shoulder. Caleb held the door for Melanie, and they managed to squeeze inside. Micah Rawlins waved from a spot against the back wall and moved over as much as he could to make room for them. Glad that Mrs. Fetterman had volunteered to keep Levi at her home during the meeting, Melanie took her place beside Caleb. She turned her attention to the front of the room.

  The marshal’s face deepened to a dangerous shade of red. “I called this meeting to try to set some things straight, not to be harangued by a passel of tomfool questions. Now, simmer down, all of you. The sooner you let me speak, the sooner you can all be on your way and go home to your supper.”

  The rumble of dissent died down, ending altogether once the lawman se
nt a stern look from one side of the room to the other. “Rumors have been flying left and right over the past week, and I’m here to tell you that it has to stop. From what I’ve heard, some of you think that because there haven’t been any arrests yet, it means I haven’t been doing my job, and maybe I should be replaced.”

  Melanie’s eyes widened.

  Mayor Pike stood up from his seat at the front of the room and took a stance near the marshal. He turned to face the crowd and tucked his thumbs beneath the lapels of his jacket, as if getting ready to make a political speech.

  “Fellow citizens,” he began, “I want to assure you that I have complete trust in Marshal Hooper, and I am certain he is doing everything in his power to bring the perpetrator to justice. As you know, the safety of Cedar Ridge and its people has always been the highest priority of my—”

  “Thank you, Mayor.” Marshal Hooper stepped forward. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, especially in light of what I’m going to say next.”

  The mayor’s face turned a dusky red. Returning to his seat beside his wife, he dropped back into his chair with a loud harrumph.

  The marshal went on as though there hadn’t been an interruption. “I’ve heard talk that some of you want to form a vigilance committee and take care of the situation yourselves. The last I heard, Arizona Territory was still a part of these United States. That means everyone—man or woman—is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. Let me tell you right now, if any of you decide to go off half-cocked and take the law into your own hands, you’ll be the ones who’ll find yourselves arrested and facing charges.”

  An angry buzz broke out, as if someone had stirred up a hive of bees.

  Wendell Trask stood and raised his voice to be heard above the rest. “Then you’d better get the job done faster, Marshal. We just want to protect our families.”

  “I understand that, Wendell. But what you need to understand is that bringing criminals to justice is my job. And I’ll get it done a whole lot faster if I don’t have to deal with a bunch of interference from hotheads like you.”

  Rance Yeary, the saloonkeeper at the Silver Moon, stood up and thrust out his chin. “What exactly are you doing to keep this town safe? People are getting afraid to go out after dark anymore, and I’m losing customers because of it.”

  Melanie grimaced. She knew exactly how he felt.

  Wendell Trask pushed his way forward through the crowd. “Some of us have been talking, Marshal. Things like murder don’t happen without a reason. It seems to me that one of the questions you ought to be asking is why anyone would want to kill these men. Who stands to benefit by getting them out of the way?”

  Marshal Hooper nodded. “Fair enough. All right, since we’re all together, let me just ask all of you right now: Who stood to gain by Charley Weber’s death? Is there anybody here who can shed some light on that?”

  A man Melanie didn’t recognize spoke up from the far side of the emporium. “Not many of us here were acquainted with him—at least, not before he came here. The only people he knew before he showed up in Cedar Ridge were George and Alvin.”

  Melanie sucked in her breath and shot a quick glance at Caleb, who looked just as shocked as she felt. Had her cousin and Caleb’s uncle just gone from being thought of as possible murder victims to suspected killers? The idea was outrageous.

  She waved her arm to catch the marshal’s attention. “Just a minute!”

  The man went on without paying her the least bit of attention. “And why stop with Charley? This may have started with him, but what about his brother? Who benefited by having him out of the way?”

  Wendell Trask snorted. “Use your head. That’s the only thing that makes sense. Whoever did Charley in didn’t want anyone discovering what he’d done.”

  Micah raised his voice, “But that doesn’t make a lick of sense—not if you’re trying to say that George or Alvin had something to do with the first murder. They were both long gone by the time Weber’s brother showed up.”

  Rance Yeary spoke up. “Forget the Webers for a minute. Let’s ask the same question about George and Alvin. Is anyone better off having them out of the way? Who stood to benefit after they were gone?”

  Every head in the emporium turned in unison. Every pair of eyes stared straight at Caleb and Melanie.

  “Hold on!” Caleb stood rigid, his face as red as the mayor’s had been only moments before. “That’s crazy talk. Miss Ross and I are God-fearing people. What you’re suggesting, that we had anything to do with the deaths of our relatives, is absolutely—”

  “But who else stood to gain?” Rance Yeary jabbed his finger straight at Caleb. “You two are the only ones.”

  A stunned silence followed this pronouncement.

  Then everyone seemed to speak at once.

  “That’s enough.” Marshal Hooper’s voice cut across the hubbub like the lash of a whip. “What we need is facts, not rumors and speculation. If nobody has any constructive information that will add to my investigation, it’s time for you all to go on your way. Just remember what I said—you’re paying me to do this job, so stay out of my way and let me handle it.” He turned his head from one side of the room to the other, leveling a stern look at every person there. “And if anyone has ideas of forming a vigilance committee, know this: You will answer to the law for any illegal actions.”

  Melanie slumped back against the wall and watched the people mill around. Some collected in small, chattering groups, while others left the store. Those who departed scooted past Melanie and Caleb without speaking, or even looking at them.

  She looked up at Caleb, struggling to find her voice. “What just happened?”

  Micah shook his head sorrowfully. “Sorry about that, you two. I knew there were some whispers going around, but I had no idea anyone would take it this far, trumpeting a lot of nonsense out in public like that.” He gripped Caleb’s shoulder. “You know what it’s like once people start talking. Trying to put a stop to it is like trying to rein in a runaway horse.”

  From the look on his face, Melanie suspected Caleb couldn’t decide whether he wanted to crawl in a hole or start swinging his fists. He shook his head. “This isn’t just idle talk, Micah. They’re talking vigilantism. That’s mob action, and there’s no talking your way out once something like that takes hold.”

  Micah looked Caleb squarely in the face. “I don’t think it will come to that. I’m fairly sure it will all settle down before too long. Besides, no one who knows either one of you would believe you could be involved in anything like this.”

  Marshal Hooper made his way through the crowd and stood before their little group, one hand resting on his holster. He gestured back at the muttering crowd. “I never intended for things to take that kind of turn. I want you to know I’ll do all I can to keep things under control.”

  Melanie put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “It seems to me the best way to do that is to find out who is responsible.”

  “I’m working on that, believe me.” The marshal lifted his hat, then settled it back on his head. “I have to admit I’ve had more experience with rustlers and bar fights than anything like this.”

  His expression hardened, and he leveled a steely look at them both. “However crazy some of this talk may sound, I have to take it all under consideration. And while I may be slow at puzzling things out, I’m an expert tracker. So until this is settled, don’t either one of you plan on leaving town.” He turned on his heel and strode out the door.

  Melanie clung to Caleb’s arm, feeling as if she’d just had the breath knocked out of her.

  He covered her hand with his. “Are you all right?”

  After someone just implied we both are suspected of murdering our relatives? Of course I’m not all right. Aloud, she said, “I think I’m ready to go back to the store.”

  Caleb nodded. He turned to Micah. “We’ll see you later. I appreciate you standing by us.”

  As they turned to leave, Melani
e heard a woman’s voice whisper, “But they seem so nice. You don’t really think they had anything to do with this, do you?”

  Ophelia Pike’s voice rang out clearly. “Appearances aren’t always what they seem.”

  Melanie turned to see the mayor’s wife facing a small group of women, with her back to Melanie and Caleb.

  “Just the other night,” Mrs. Pike went on, “my husband was coming home late, and he saw something quite disturbing. Caleb Nelson was standing out in the alley behind the mercantile, throwing gravel up at her window.”

  Her announcement brought a round of scandalized giggles.

  The woman who’d spoken first frowned. “That doesn’t mean he’s guilty of anything but being interested in her.”

  Caleb stopped to talk to Rafe Sutton. Melanie pulled away and moved closer to the group so she could hear better.

  Mrs. Pike sniffed. “Don’t be naïve, Nettie. They may have arrived here separately, but who’s to say they didn’t know each other before coming to Cedar Ridge? Maybe Rance Yeary has a point. What if they planned all this in advance?”

  A gasp ran around the circle.

  Mrs. Pike wasn’t finished yet. “But that isn’t the whole story. After he threw the gravel at her window, she came down to let him in . . . wearing only her nightclothes.”

  “No!” The other woman pressed a hand to her lips.

  Mrs. Pike went on, a note of triumph in her voice. “Does that sound like the innocent actions of near strangers to you?”

  “You mean they’re in it together?” Lena Andrews bristled with indignation. “Well, I never! And to think I tried to do her a service by warning her about him!”

  A gray-haired woman waved her hand for attention. “I don’t see the sense in that. Why would anyone go to those lengths for a mercantile? It isn’t like it’s going to make either of them rich.”

  “And that isn’t all.” Mrs. Pike went on as though the other woman hadn’t spoken. “How many of you were out on the street the other day when she flew to the Nelson boy’s defense after he attacked the marshal?”