Tears trickled down my face as I looked into his eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I know you're right, but it helps so much to hear you say it. I've felt like I should have been able to make up my mind and be done with it all. I know it doesn't work that way, but it made me feel like such a failure when it didn't.”
“Come here, you,” Ben said, sliding his chair over to gather me into a hug. After a minute, he said, “Okay, Lydia's right; that's enough mush for one night. Tell me more about the story in your book. Who are the characters?”
I told him about Paul, Charlie, Jimmy, Joe, Willy, and Grace while we finished our food. As I talked about them, the characters became even more real to me, and I could hardly wait to get back to my computer.
4
Murder in the Park
by Norah Sewell
Chapter Two
“Hello, Miss Wells,” Paul greeted the young reading teacher as he entered the room where she and Charlie were standing at a table. “How are you this afternoon?”
She smiled at him. “I'm doing well, Mr. Barger. I hope the day finds you well, also?” She pointed to the table. “Mr. Graham and I were just looking over the materials for the next issue of 'The Goliad Veteran.' I'm not sure there is enough here to fill all of the pages, so we were trying to think of some other topics. Do you have any ideas?”
“Well, I heard that a crew will begin clearing land for a state park road next week, and that the picnic area and trail work will start shortly after that.” Paul stopped to think. “Maybe we could talk to folks in town to find out about any special events coming up, so the guys can join in.”
“Like the box supper and ice cream social, huh?” Charlie winked at his friend. “That's a good idea, though. There isn't always a lot to do here in the evenings, and bored guys can become trouble. I heard that one of the ranches is throwing a small rodeo sometime next month. We could mention it now and follow up later.”
The trio talked a bit more about the newspaper before gathering the materials to prepare for classes. Grace Wells taught reading classes, while Paul and Charlie had chosen courses related to farm management. They had talked about staying in Texas when their time with the CCC was done, buying some land and starting a small farm and ranch operation.
After class, Paul and Charlie walked back to the room used to prepare the camp's newspaper. Charlie poked Paul in the ribs, grinning.
“'Hello, Miss Wells,'” he said in a silly voice. “Brother, you should have seen your face when you saw her. You've got it bad!”
“Knock it off,” Paul growled. “I was just being sociable. And how about you and Miss Simmons? Seems to me you were pretty friendly the other day.” He grinned at his friend. “But, you know something? Miss Wells does seem like a special kind of lady to me, and I like spending time talking with her.”
Charlie hooted. “No kidding, man; it's written all over your face every time she's in the area. You could definitely do worse than settling down with Grace Wells. She seems like a sweet woman, but there's a bit of steel in her, too. Life with her would never be boring, I'll bet.”
Paul laughed, agreeing. “Yes, she definitely has a mind of her own, but I think that's a good thing. I don't know how she feels about me, though.”
“Brother Paul,” Charlie said, “she's definitely interested; she doesn't have much of a poker face, either. Besides, if you overstep what she's okay with, I guarantee she'll let you know – quickly and decisively.”
“Yeah, you're probably right about that part,” Paul agreed. “Anyway, let's see what we've got for the paper and decide who to assign to the new stories. I still have a letter home to finish up before I hit the rack tonight.”
Grace came into the room a few minutes after they'd settled in to work, and she joined in the tasks. Suddenly, they heard a loud noise from the side of the building.
“No,” a woman's voice shouted. “I told you that I'm not interested in going anywhere with you. I'm going home now. Please leave me alone.”
A man's voice rumbled, the words indistinguishable. Paul, Charlie, and Grace heard what sounded like scuffling.
“No!” the woman screamed. “Let go of me! Stop! Help – someone help me, please!”
Paul and Charlie ran out of the room, with Grace not far behind. Rounding the corner of the building, they saw Joseph Brossard and Mary Simmons, the typing teacher. Miss Simmons was trying to pull away from Brossard, who had his arms wrapped around her and appeared to be trying to kiss her.
“Brossard, stop that immediately!” Paul shouted. “Let the woman go, NOW!”
Joey sneered. “Mind your own business, Barger. The lady and I are just enjoying each other's company. It's nothing for you to concern yourself with.”
“The lady said 'no,'” Charlie interjected. “It didn't sound much like she is enjoying your company or that she's eager to spend time in it. Let her go.”
“Or what?” Joey snapped. “I said, it's none of your business. Take a hike and leave us alone.”
“Please,” Mary pleaded. “Don't leave me with this man. Please help me.”
“We're not going anywhere, Miss Simmons,” Charlie said. “Brossard, get your hands off of her right now.” He took a step closer to the couple, balling his hands into fists.
“And I guess you think you're man enough to make me?” Joey said. “Besides, the 'lady,' as you called her, wants it. She's been flirting with every man in her class; she's hungry for a little lovin' “
Before the last word had faded out, Charlie punched Joey in the gut and then in the face, snatching Mary away and pushing her toward Paul.
“Miss Wells,” he growled, never taking his eyes off Joey. “Please take Miss Simmons inside and wait with her until her ride home arrives. We will be in to check on you both shortly.”
The women hurried away, Mary sobbing softly and Grace murmuring words of encouragement. Joey stirred, beginning to stand and to object.
“Stay away from her, Brossard,” Charlie said. “She was very clear that she doesn't want to step out with you, so leave her alone. There are other women you can court, although, if this is a sample of your style, I don't hold out much hope for your success.”
“Drop dead, Graham,” Joey snapped. “I'll do whatever I want, with whomever I want, and I don't care whether you like it or not. Stay out of my way and out of my business, or I'll put you out of it for good.”
“Don't even think about it, Joey,” Paul said. “You were way out of line here, and it stops now. If you don't stay away from Miss Simmons and from any other woman who tells you to do so, there will be more to it than a couple of punches from Charlie. You will treat the women here with respect and dignity, or there will be serious consequences. I will personally see to it that the brass here at the camp and the police find out about this and any more occurrences, if you don't change your ways, starting tonight.”
Joey bowed up like he wanted to argue, but Paul commanded a lot of respect among the members of the company. Joey knew that Paul would make good on his words, if he thought it was the right thing to do.
“This isn't over, Graham,“ Joey snarled. “She would have been glad to go with me, if you hadn't stuck your nose in; she just need a little more persuading. Just because you've got your eyes on her doesn't mean that she's interested in you, and it doesn't mean you can interfere with my business. We'll see who comes out ahead in this game; mark my words – I will win this one.” He stormed off, cursing under his breath as he left the area.
“I said it before,” Paul said as they watched Joey before heading to the front of the building. “That man is some kind of character. He really thinks women go for that bully garbage.”
They found the women waiting just inside the door of the newspaper office. Mary had calmed down, but Grace looked ready to explode.
“What is that man's problem?” she said. “He acted like some kind of animal out there. No, that's not right...an animal wouldn't have behaved as badly as he did.” She restarted the
pacing she'd paused when she saw the two men.
“Miss Simmons, Miss Wells, I am very sorry that you experienced such boorish behavior,” Paul said. “And I promise you that we will be watching him to be sure that nothing like it happens again.”
“Thank you,” Mary said. “Thank you both for helping me. I was very frightened when he grabbed me and wouldn't let go. I didn't know what to do. I'm glad you were here and that you were willing to help.”
Charlie frowned. “Has he ever treated you this way before? Or anyone else, to your knowledge?”
Both women shook their heads. “No,” Mary replied. “He's never touched me like that before. He's asked me to go to dinner with him several times, and he wouldn't stop when I told him that I wasn't interested, but it was all words until tonight. I haven't heard from others that he has bothered them.”
Grace added, “I've heard of him being overly friendly and persistent with some of the other teachers, but, as Mary said, it's all been talk. I wonder what changed tonight?”
“Well,” Charlie said, “when I got close enough to hit him, I could smell the liquor rising from him. It was almost enough to make me drunk, just from breathing the fumes. I think he must have had too much to drink somewhere.”
Just then, a beat-up farm truck pulled up in front of the building and the horn honked. “That's my brother,” Mary said, looking outside. “He's here to take me home. Please don't say anything to him; I'd rather my family not hear about what happened here tonight. And thank you again for your help. Grace, can we drop you at your house on our way?”
Grace accepted the offer and the group exchanged good-nights. The women climbed into the truck and waved as they drove away. Paul and Charlie headed back to their cabin, talking more about what to do about Joseph Brossard.
“You guys have good timing,” Willy told them when they got back to their cottage. “Brossard just came back, and he was MAD! He was cussing up a storm when he walked up, and then someone inside his cottage said something to him. He slammed the screen door open and started yelling. I looked out from our door, and he was flipping over cots and throwing stuff all over the place. I don't know who rattled his cage, but they sure shook it up good!”
The other two men smirked and shook their heads. “Oh,” Paul said, “we know exactly what upset him – we were there.”
“Yeah, like real close,” Charlie snickered. “About as close as you can get!” He then explained to Willy what happened next to the education building.
“That's disgusting,” Willy said. “Someone should teach that man some manners – teach them forcefully, if necessary. I guess you made a start at that, though, didn't you, Charlie?”
“Doesn't sound like the lesson 'took,' though, does it?” Paul quipped. The three men laughed together as they finished getting ready for a good night's sleep.
5
“Good morning, dear,” my grandmother greeted me the next morning when I answered my phone. “How are you feeling today? How's your writing going?”
“I'm good, Mommaw,” I answered. “Yes, even though you tried to be sneaky about asking, I am working on a novel based on the journals. And, it's going really well – better than anything I've done before! How are you doing? I was planning to call later this morning to check in with you, but you beat me to it!”
“I'm just fine,” she said. “I knew you'd take on the project. That's why I called. I think you should visit the El Camino Real Visitors Center. I don't know if you realize, but the center is in the caretaker's lodge, which was built by the CCC. I think my grandfather mentioned the lodge in the journals.”
“He did; I remember reading that it was used as a sort of workshop to experiment with the materials they later used to restore the mission. I didn't think it was open to the public, though,” I said.
“It wasn't until recently. Now, though, it's been renovated as an interpretative center, intended to tell the story of the importance of the King's Highway or the Royal Road. It's one of four stops on the El Camino Real de los Tejas National Historical Trail. Dolores told me that one of the park interpreters was talking about the CCC when they dedicated the visitors center. I thought you might get some helpful information there.”
“Shoot, yeah!” I exclaimed. “I've been looking for details of the company's daily life. And, I probably shouldn't admit this, since it sort of commits me, but I've been thinking that this could turn into a whole series of historical mystery novels. El Camino Real would be a great subject to include in another book.”
Mommaw Dot laughed. I knew what she was thinking but would never say aloud. “Gotcha!” I know she thought. “I knew you'd be hooked!”
“Would you like to visit the center with me, Mommaw?” I asked. “We could have lunch together after, if you have the time.”
“I'd love to go with you sometime, dear, but I think you should go by yourself first. That way, you can focus on what you need to ask without having to worry about anyone being with you. I'd love to have lunch with you, though. Why don't you call me when you leave the park, and I'll fix us a bite to eat. And before you object, remember that I have more casseroles in my freezer than I'll ever be able to eat on my own. I'll pop one of those in the oven and toss a salad, so it won't be any trouble.”
I agree to her plan, and then I went in to shower and dress for leaving the house; somehow, I didn't think my writing outfit of cut-off knit shorts and a knee-length T-shirt would really be appropriate for public consumption.
As I was gathering my notebook and purse, checking to be sure I had a pen, my cellphone rang. Thinking it was good timing, since I had forgotten to take it off the charger and drop it in my purse, I checked the screen, which showed that Ben was calling.
“Hey, my friend,” I said. “What's up?”
“You sound awfully perky,” he laughed. “What brought on all the sunshine and roses today? Not that I'm complaining, but it sounds like you might be bouncing on your toes!”
“Pffft,” I said. “I'm not 'perky.' I've never been 'perky,' and I'm too old to start that silliness now. I am excited, though.” I told him about Mommaw Dot's call and my new plans for the morning.
“I know a couple of the interpreters at the park; we've worked together on projects before. They're really knowledgeable; I should have thought to suggest that,” he replied. “And you'll love seeing the caretaker's lodge. The craftsmanship is amazing.”
We talked a little more about the visitor’s center, the park, the progress on the book, and what he was working on before he started to end the call.
“Wait!” I exclaimed. “You never told me why you called. I kinda doubt you psychically knew to call about me going to the park today. What's on your mind?”
He laughed. “Oh, yeah – I probably should talk to you about that! I was calling to see if you'd like to go to Victoria for dinner and a movie tonight. I thought we could hit that Thai restaurant we both like, and then check out what's showing at the movie theater. If there's nothing there that we want to see, there's bound to be something else we could do, or we could come back here and watch a show on one of the movie channels.”
“I like that idea,” I answered. “I think eating and then coming back here is the best choice; if I'm remembering right, there's a couple of better options on television than what's in town right now. Why don't I grab some sodas and snacks while I'm out, and we can settle in at my place after dinner? Anything special you want?”
“As long as you have popcorn, I'll be happy,” he said. “Anything else you pick out will be fine. I'll pick you up around 6?”
“Perfect,” I said. “That gives me time to have lunch with my grandmother, make a shopping run, and still get some more writing done this afternoon. I'll see you later, then.”
As we said good-bye and ended the call, I snatched my keys off the entryway table and headed out to the car. I have to admit, I was pretty excited about the rest of my day.
6
Murder in the Park
by
Norah Sewell
Chapter Three
A couple of days later, Paul was working at the mission excavation area when one of the supervisors approached him, accompanied by two men, both in dress slacks and neatly ironed shirts and both sporting straw cowboy hats.
“Hey, Sam!” Paul called as they walked up. “Have you seen Charlie? The guys over at the caretaker's lodge need his help – something about where some wiring needs to go. I told them I'd let him know, but I got busy here before I ran into him.'
“Paul,” the foreman said, “I'd like you to meet Sheriff Hank Clement and Judge James White. They'd like to have a word with you.”
“Gentlemen,” Paul nodded, looking puzzled. “How can I help you?” He couldn't think of any reason for the county sheriff and the county judge to need to talk with him.
“Mr. Barger,” the sheriff said, “is there somewhere we might talk in private? And perhaps with a place to sit for a moment or two?”
Even more perplexed, Paul said, “Sure. We can step over into the shed over there. We store any artifacts discovered there, and there are a couple of benches for when the archaeologists are examining the finds. It should be empty right now; those guys have already left for the weekend.”
Once the four men were inside and settled onto the seating benches, the sheriff looked at the judge, who nodded at him. The sheriff cleared his throat before beginning to speak, clearly not happy about what he had to say.
“Mr. Barger, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you,” the man said. “I got a call a bit ago that there was a problem here on the work site. When I arrived and was able to determine what was going on, I called the judge, as the law requires.” He paused, clearly hoping the judge or the foreman would jump in and take up the story. When they both remained silent, he continued.
“Mr. Barger, it is my sad duty to tell you that Mr. Charles Graham has died. I believe that you are listed as the person to contact, should anything happen to him.”
Murder at the Mission Page 3