Paper Roses

by Amanda Cabot

  “Horsey.” Thea giggled as she pointed toward the animals pulling the wagon. Clay had apologized for the absence of a buggy, explaining that when it had fallen into disrepair after his mother’s death no one had seen a need to replace it.

  “That’s right, sweetie.” Sarah kept her arm around her sister. Though her heartbeat had returned to normal, the memory of waking and realizing she was alone in the cabin lingered. She’d been fortunate. Thea had not been in danger. When Sarah had found her sister, Thea had been giggling and holding onto Clay as if she belonged in his arms. But she didn’t. Clay’s expression and the unmistakable way he’d avoided looking at Thea during breakfast told Sarah the man did not like children. That was one reason she kept Thea close to her. She had promised not to be a burden, and that was a promise she intended to keep. Somehow she’d find a way to earn money, to prevent Thea from bothering Clay and, most importantly, to ensure her sister’s safety.

  Sarah took another deep breath, forcing back the fear of failure. The future—her future and Thea’s—was waiting across the river in Ladreville, Texas.

  “Look, Thea. Houses.”

  The town was not what she had expected. Of course, Sarah had to admit, nothing in Texas had been what she had expected. She had expected a bridegroom and a peaceful existence in the house he’d built for them. Instead . . .

  Sarah forced a smile onto her face. She couldn’t change the past. All she could do was create a future. And she would. She’d find a future for her and Thea in this town that was so different from San Antonio, Philadelphia, and every other city she’d seen.

  Sarah’s smile became genuine as she realized that Ladreville looked like a storybook come to life. The two-story half-timbered buildings with their steeply pitched roofs made her think she’d stepped into the pages of one of her German books.

  Sarah’s smile broadened as she remembered how often Mama had spoken of taking her and Thea on the Grand Tour. The family would not make that trip, but it appeared that Sarah and Thea would be living in a small piece of Europe. Surely that was a good sign.

  “Pretty.”

  It was indeed. Though Austin had written that the town had been founded by Alsatian immigrants, he’d neglected to mention that the settlers had replicated their European architecture in Texas.

  “This is the Hochstrasse,” Clay said. He’d been silent for most of the trip, preoccupied, Sarah surmised, with thoughts of whatever it was he hoped to accomplish in town. “That’s ‘high street’ in German,” he added. “From what I’ve heard, almost every German town had a Hochstrasse.”

  Sarah saw no reason to tell Clay she didn’t need the translation and that she was familiar with German street names. Instead, she smiled again, then looked down the road. Ladreville, although considerably smaller than San Antonio, was spotlessly clean and appeared to be prosperous, its main street lined with houses, shops, and two gleaming white steeples.

  Though she wouldn’t have expected a town this small to have two churches, Sarah suspected that was the result of the centuries-old enmity between France and Germany, an enmity that had resulted in wars and in Alsace, the townspeople’s former home, being traded back and forth between the two countries. Ladreville, Sarah could see by the names on the storefronts, had both German and French settlers. Those settlers, she guessed, worshiped in separate churches.

  As Thea bounced with excitement, Sarah pulled her onto her lap, pointing out early blooming flowers and a sausage-shaped dog. The town was not only a mélange of France and Germany, it was also a mixture of Europe and America. Older women dressed in European-style garb walked briskly toward the center of town, some accompanied by their daughters. The younger girls, unlike their mothers, wore clothing that would not have been out of place in Philadelphia.

  Sarah and Thea, it appeared, would not be shunned for their attire. Even more importantly, as San Antonio had, Ladreville exuded an unmistakable air of vitality. Looking at the town and seeing Thea’s excitement, Sarah felt her fears subside, replaced by the sweet taste of hope. Perhaps their future, though far different from the one she’d imagined, would be a good one.

  While Clay remained silent, Thea chattered as the wagon rumbled further down the street, stopping in front of a store with a large plate glass window. No sign was necessary, for the merchandise in the window announced that this was Ladreville’s mercantile. The proprietors, Clay had told Sarah, were named Rousseau. A small plate on the door confirmed that.

  When he’d helped Sarah and Thea alight, Clay touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  As soon as her feet touched the ground, Thea started to skip. Had she been able, Sarah would have joined her. Instead, she grabbed her sister’s hand and opened the door.

  “Bonjour, madame.” Though both a man and a woman stood behind the counter, it was the petite brunette who greeted Sarah.

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Sarah smiled at the young woman. A few inches shorter than her own five feet four, she also appeared to be several years younger. A quick glance at the woman’s ringless hands told Sarah she was unmarried. Her own gloves and the presence of Thea, who was young enough to be her daughter, had made the proprietor believe Sarah was married.

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” Sarah said in the French she’d perfected during those long years when everyone had feared she’d never walk again. “Je suis Mademoiselle Sarah Dobbs.”

  The brunette’s eyes widened in surprise. “Miss Dobbs, of course.” She switched to only slightly accented English. “Austin told Léon about you.” Gesturing toward the man who remained behind the counter, she said, “Léon, come meet Austin’s . . .” The woman’s voice trailed off, and the flush staining her face told Sarah she wasn’t certain how to categorize Sarah, since the word fiancée no longer applied.

  “Isabelle, tais-toi.”

  Isabelle glared at the man whose resemblance, not to mention the familiar way he addressed her, marked him as her brother.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Dobbs,” she said. Despite her brother’s admonition, it was obvious she had no intention of remaining silent. “Austin was a wonderful man.”

  “And a good friend,” her brother chimed in. “We all miss him.”

  Clearly bored by the adults’ conversation, Thea reached toward the counter, her small hands grabbing at a glass jar. Sarah captured both hands in hers and nodded at Isabelle and Léon. “Perhaps some other time you can tell me more about him. Today I need . . .” Thea jerked her hand free. “No, Thea. You can’t touch that.”

  “What can I get for you, Miss Dobbs?” As Isabelle gestured toward the shelves lining the back of the store, two women entered the store. Though they conversed softly, Sarah realized they were speaking German. “We have almost everything you could want,” Isabelle continued. As she stationed herself behind the counter, Sarah noticed that Isabelle was wearing a small gold cross around her neck. Instinctively, Sarah touched her own collar. It wasn’t there, of course. She’d removed the cross the day Reverend Lang had told her Papa could not be buried in hallowed ground.

  Blinking rapidly to keep her tears from falling, Sarah said, “I need some thread.” Thank goodness her voice did not betray her sorrow. “I’m afraid I used my entire supply mending Thea’s clothing on the journey West.”

  Though she knew all too well the dangers of eavesdropping, Sarah couldn’t help noticing that when Léon approached the women and attempted to serve them, his command of the German language appeared to consist of nothing more than a greeting. The women’s English was equally limited.

  “What color would you like?” Isabelle pulled out a tray of thread.

  As Sarah selected a spool of black, she gave the brunette another smile. Isabelle appeared friendly, and as someone who worked in the store, she was in a position to overhear many conversations. Perhaps she could help with Sarah’s other needs. “There is something else,” she told the young French-woman. “Austin’s death changed my situation, and now I mus
t find a way to earn my room and board. Do you know of anyone in Ladreville who might be looking for help?”

  Isabelle’s expression was doubtful. She fingered the cross around her neck, then smiled. “I’ll ask Maman. She knows everyone’s business.” With a nod toward the door that Sarah surmised led to the Rousseaus’ dwelling, Isabelle said, “It’ll take only a moment.”

  Sarah bent down to ruffle Thea’s hair. Thank goodness the child appeared content to sit on the floor and play with her doll. Above them the conversation between the German women and Léon continued. Everyone, it was clear, was frustrated, and the women appeared to be on the verge of leaving the store.

  A glimmer of an idea danced before Sarah’s eyes. Carefully she rose and turned toward the women. “Perhaps I might assist you,” she offered in fluent German.

  A smile lit the older of the two women’s faces. “Sie spricht deutsch!” she announced to her companion.

  “Ja. Ich spreche deutsch.” Sarah smiled at the potential customers. “I would be honored to help you.” Excitedly, the two women began to speak at the same time. Sarah held up a cautionary hand to slow the barrage of words, then relayed their requests to Léon one by one. By the time Isabelle and her mother arrived, Léon had a large pile of purchases assembled on the counter.

  Madame Rousseau stared at her son. “What happened?” she demanded in French. “Frau Bauer and Frau Kentzel have never bought so much.”

  Léon nodded toward Sarah. “Miss Dobbs helped them. She speaks German.”

  “Evidemment.” Madame Rousseau gave Sarah an appraising look. It was only after the two German women had left, their arms filled with purchases, that Isabelle’s mother addressed Sarah. “My daughter told me you were in search of work. I regret . . .”

  Sarah could see the older woman searching for the correct English word. “I also speak French,” she told Madame Rousseau in her native tongue.

  “That is most unusual for an American.” Madame Rousseau managed a small smile before her face turned serious again. “I regret that I have no suggestions for you, mademoiselle. Ladreville is a small town. We have simple needs.”

  Thea, who had been sitting quietly at Sarah’s feet, chose that moment to scramble to her feet and run toward the door. “Excuse me, madame,” Sarah said as she grabbed Thea’s arm. “My sister is still excited about being in a new place.”

  “I understand.” Madame Rousseau shook her head slowly. “I wish I could help you.”

  The thoughts that whirled through Sarah’s mind began to crystallize. “I believe, madame, that I could help you.” When the woman looked skeptical, Sarah said, “This is Ladreville’s only store, is it not?”

  Madame Rousseau nodded.

  Sarah gestured toward the front door. “I assume from the fact that this street has a German name that German residents outnumber the French.”

  Another nod, this one accompanied by an expression of curiosity.

  “Correct me if I am wrong, but it appears that no one in your family speaks German.”

  A third nod.

  Sarah’s confidence rose. This could be the solution to her problem. “As you’ve seen, I speak both French and German. If you would hire me to work here, the increased sales should more than offset the wages you would pay me.”

  Before Madame Rousseau could reply, both of her children began to speak.

  “Then you wouldn’t need me, Maman.” Léon grinned as he touched his mother’s arm. “I could work for Karl Friedrich.” “Don’t you see, Maman,” Isabelle said, her expression more earnest than her brother’s. “Miss Dobbs is the answer to our prayers.”

  Madame Rousseau raised an eyebrow as she looked first at Isabelle, then at Léon. “I will have to ask your father.” She turned toward the interior door.

  “That means yes,” Isabelle whispered. “Papa always does what Maman wants.”

  Though she gave no sign that she had heard her daughter’s words, Madame Rousseau halted, her hand on the doorknob. “If my husband should agree, and mind you, I’m not saying he will, but if he should, you must make arrangements for the child. The store is no place for her.”

  Sarah nodded slowly, her initial excitement starting to ebb as she realized she had solved one problem only to create another. What had she expected? Nothing had been easy since that day in September. Only a fool would have thought her luck would change. Sarah Dobbs, it appeared, was a fool.

  3

  “Good morning, Mayor.” As Clay had hoped, since Michel Ladre hadn’t been expecting him, the man who’d transplanted a bit of Alsace into the heart of Texas a decade before was in his office.

  “Good to see you, Clay.” The older man rose from behind his desk. Though of modest height, he was still a commanding presence, his brown eyes intense, his dark hair only slightly mottled with gray. At forty-eight, he was the same age as Pa. The years, however, had been far kinder to Michel Ladre than they had to Clay’s father.

  Clay looked around, his lips tightening. The town’s founder, mayor, sheriff, and self-appointed arbiter of every dispute kept a map of Alsace on his wall, along with pictures of the succession of rulers who’d invaded, conquered, and oppressed Alsace’s citizens. They were, he claimed, reminders of all the townspeople had overcome. Austin had scoffed every time he’d spoken of those pictures, declaring that the colonists hadn’t bettered their lives the way they’d hoped but had merely exchanged one form of despotism for another.

  Clay’s lips tightened again. His brother had worried about the townspeople. Clay did not. He had enough worries of his own, starting with why Michel Ladre was treating Austin’s murder as if it were nothing more than a petty crime.

  Before Clay could speak, the mayor pulled out his watch and frowned. “Unfortunately,” he said in a tone that sounded anything but regretful, “I was on my way out. I’m afraid that the matter is urgent.”

  Since Ladreville’s founder had been sitting with his boots propped on the desk, the picture of indolence, when he arrived, Clay doubted the story was true.

  “This will only take a moment.” Michel had not invited him to sit, and Clay preferred not to. Some things were best discussed standing up. But he did position himself in front of the door to keep the mayor from leaving. “I want to know what progress you’ve made in finding my brother’s murderer.”

  “Je regrette.” Michel frowned, then reverted to English. “These things take time.”

  That was the same thing he had said when Clay had seen him three days ago. “How long can it take to talk to seven men?”

  The mayor frowned again and shook his head slowly. When he spoke, his words were deliberate, his tone one Clay imagined he would have used when speaking to a small child or a not-very-bright adult. “If only it were that simple, Clay. Austin’s murderer could have been anyone, even a Comanche.”

  Biting back his anger, Clay forced himself to respond calmly. There was no point in alienating the town’s only lawman. “My brother would not have allowed a Comanche to come that close to him. Austin didn’t even pull his gun. That means the man who killed him had to be someone he knew and trusted.”

  “Many more than seven men fit that description. It could include everyone in Ladreville. Your brother knew everyone.”

  While that was true, Clay wasn’t certain Austin had trusted them all. He knew for a fact that Austin hadn’t trusted the man standing next to the desk, at least not with the town’s finances.

  Keeping his voice as even as if he were discussing the weather, Clay said, “It makes sense that the killer was someone Austin was playing poker with.” Those men were the ones closest to him. They were the ones who knew where Austin was that night and what time he left the Brambles’ barn.

  “It may make sense to you, Clay,” Michel said in that infuriatingly condescending voice, “but let me remind you that I’m the one who’s conducting this investigation. I need to consider all possibilities.”

  “What harm would there be in starting with the last people who saw
Austin alive?”

  “None, other than to waste my time.” The mayor picked up his hat. “As much as I regret being unable to continue this conversation, I must leave.”

  It was as Clay had suspected. Michel Ladre had no intention of questioning the other poker players, perhaps because his own son had been one of them, perhaps because Michel himself had few regrets that Austin was dead.

  “If you’re not willing to talk to those men, I will.”

  The mayor clenched his fist. “I’m afraid I cannot permit that.”

  “I’m afraid you cannot prevent that.” Clay had already spoken to the men, but he’d kept the conversations casual. In doing that, he’d learned nothing. Each of the seven had the same story: they’d all remained in the barn from the time Austin left until well past the hour when Nora had arrived back at the Bar C, Austin’s body slumped over her back. Clay didn’t believe them. One of them had killed his brother, and if Michel Ladre wasn’t willing to find out who it was, Clay had no choice but to do it himself. Austin’s murderer would pay for his crime.

  “You might be on the lookout for Austin’s watch,” Clay told the man who claimed he was investigating the murder. “Austin had it when he left that night, and it wasn’t in his pocket when he—”

  Michel didn’t let him finish the sentence. “He probably lost it,” the mayor said, dismissing Clay’s suggestion.

  Clay shook his head. “That watch was Austin’s most prized possession, especially that day. He’d just put Sarah’s miniature in it and was planning to show it to his friends.” Though he doubted Michel would take any action, Clay continued, “Like I said, Mayor, someone needs to question those men. Thoroughly.”

  Michel took a step toward Clay, his position menacing. With a gesture toward the side door, he hissed, “If you interfere with my investigation, you’ll find yourself sitting inside that cell.”

  “Then do your job.”

  The man’s face flushed as the implication registered. “I am, and I’m doing it far better than you could.” Michel’s voice seethed with anger. “Face it, Clay. There’s a reason why I’m the mayor and sheriff of this town, and you’re a doctor. If you’re wiser than your brother, you’ll do your job and leave me alone to do mine.”