“You said yourself you want to ask around town and figure things out. You can’t do that from here. Besides, I’m exhausted. I overdid it yesterday, working on the house, the laundry, and all that food.”
“Then you should stay. I don’t want you fainting. But I just don’t like it.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got the shotgun.”
“Oh, and I forgot to tell you, the house looks wonderful. I mean, it always looks wonderful, but you did overdo it—not only did you wear yourself out, but it was so clean, it barely looked lived in. I thought…I thought you’d left me.”
Lilly’s face paled. “Oh, that was not the reaction I was hoping for. I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I was a blockhead yesterday, and as if I needed proof of how undeserving you were of my tirade—which I don’t—you spent the day working your fingers to the bone to please me, when what I really deserved was a kick in the pants.”
“I was just hoping you’d see that an unhappy wife—one who would betray you in that way—would never work so hard to please you.” Lilly pushed her food around the plate.
“I do see that, now. I’m just sorry I didn’t see it yesterday at lunch.” He sighed, then took her hand. “But if you ever work yourself like that, without rest or food again, I will be very displeased.”
“Understood.” She smiled at him. “Now go to work. I wish you could stay home too, but what can you do—stay home every day? You have the Crowley job, and we need to save up for that extended—and long overdue—‘honeymoon’. I’ll keep the doors locked and the shotgun nearby. And I’ll stay out of the kitchen and away from the door unless I’m actually cooking.”
"I suppose you're right," he muttered. "I do need to get that work done, and I need to find out who sent those flowers. But I don't like leaving you. Anything could happen!"
"Yes, and anything could happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. I don't like it any more than you do, but what can we do? You can't stay home every day, indefinitely."
"Alright, I'll go. But you'd better keep the door locked, and take all those other precautions you mentioned."
"I will. I promise." She got up and kissed him on the cheek, and began clearing the table.
***
A half hour later Jake was walking into Gottlieb’s Floral Shop. At the counter, a woman with dark hair with sprinkles of grey was carefully arranging a bundle of yellow flowers in a vase, adding them one stem at a time.
“Hello, what can I do for you?” The woman beamed a handsome smile at him.
“Unfortunately, I’m not here for flowers, though I’m sure I’ll need your services in the near future. I should have gotten my wife flowers long ago.”
“It’s never too late to give your pretty wife a passel of posies.” She stopped and wiped her hands off on her apron. “I’m Mrs. Gottlieb.”
“Jake Morgan. I own the smithy at the south end of Main Street.”
“It’s nice to meet you. What can I help you with?”
“Information, I hope.” Jake paused, trying to think of a way of phrasing it so that he didn’t make Lilly sound as if she was encouraging another man’s affections. “Uh…my wife received a vase of flowers at our home yesterday. There was no name in the attached note, but it did seem to indicate that it might be from a…um…secret admirer. They were left on the porch, and I’m afraid the note left her quite upset.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Morgan. They definitely weren’t delivered by us, I can assure you. Our deliveries are made by Carl, and that boy knows very well that if he left a delivery on a porch instead of handing it to a member of the household that it would cost him his job. My husband wouldn’t tolerate it. Anything can happen to an arrangement once it’s left out in the open.”
“Could it have been purchased here by someone, and left by that person?”
“Yes, of course. I’d imagine that if some silly man got it in his head to send a married woman flowers, he’d want to avoid leaving a trail, and therefore not have it delivered.” Mrs. Gottlieb narrowed her eyes a bit. “You’re not looking to pummel the man, are you?”
The thought has crossed my mind. Jake forced a laugh. “Well, it very well could be just some schoolboy with a crush. Mrs. Morgan is new in town, and she has turned a head or two, I’ve noticed. If that’s the case, I think a good talking-to about the propriety of courting a man’s wife might be all that is called for.”
“That’s sensible.” She nodded. “If you can describe the vase and the arrangement, I may consider sharing who purchased it. If it was just yesterday, I’m sure I’ll remember, if it was purchased while I was here. I didn’t see any boys in here yesterday, but I did take a lunch break while Mr. Gottlieb watched the store.”
Jake was out of his element discussing porcelain vases and types of flowers, but he managed to get a decent enough description that the woman shook her head.
“It sounds like a superb arrangement. Nothing a schoolboy could afford, for sure. But then, I can tell you that we don’t carry a vase like that, nor did I make any bouquets so large and delightful as that, yesterday—I’m usually the one that arranges the bouquets. And we’re the only floral shop in town. But—wait—I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Mrs. Burger was in here, not five minutes before you walked in, asking if there had been anyone in here yesterday who wanted a big bouquet, but walked away over the price!”
“Why is that?” The hairs on the back of Jake’s neck stood up.
“Because someone decimated her garden yesterday. She has one of the loveliest gardens in town, takes real pride in it, and is generous helping out other gardeners with advice, or cuttings. It’s a real shame.”
“When did it happen?”
“I’m not sure. She said she went to the mercantile to pick up a few things, and when she got back, she went out back to work on her garden, and huge handfuls of flowers had been shorn off, from every bush along the fence that faces the alley. At first she thought it was a bunch of schoolboys, ripping it up, until she saw they’d been shorn off, clean and quick. But now that you mention lovesick schoolboys, I wonder if some boy didn’t just pick up his Mama’s kitchen shears and help himself to a whole bundle of flowers while Mrs. Burger was gone. Although I think her description of a ‘decimated’ garden is a bit exaggerated—to obliterate even half her garden, one would walk away with armloads of flowers.”
“Could it have been around midday?” Jake asked.
“It could. But you can just go ask Mrs. Burger herself. Do you know her?”
Jake thought a moment. “Seems like I was walking with Mrs. Porter and my wife the day after she arrived in Helena, and we ran into a woman who gave Mrs. Porter rose cuttings. It’s only a few blocks from here, isn’t it? With a white picket fence?”
Mrs. Gottlieb nodded. “That’s her. If you find out who did it, you should let her know. She puts so much work into that garden, and the poor woman was just about in tears. The sheriff should give that boy’s parents a good talking-to.”
***
It took Jake an hour to get out of Mrs. Burger’s house. He’d had to take tea with Mrs. Burger and calm her down enough to ask her any questions. She was still very upset over the stolen flowers. Other than confirming that it was, indeed, midday when she went to the mercantile, she revealed little else that was pertinent. After comforting her a while longer, and promising to tell her the name of the culprit if he found him, Jake finally was able to leave.
He walked around the block and went down the alley behind Mrs. Burger’s house—a narrow dirt lane that separated the backyards of the houses on Mrs. Burger’s street from the backyards of the residents on the street behind. The alley was meant to give the residents access to the tiny carriage houses for parking their buggies or small wagons, if they had them.
Coming up behind Mrs. Burger’s yard, he couldn’t see any damage to the garden. When he leaned over the fence, he could then see the bare spots of cut stems a
mong the profusion of colored blossoms. Not nearly “decimated”, but certainly there were large, unsightly patches where flowers had been indiscriminately hacked off. The damage didn’t seem too terrible to Jake—but he knew how women were about such things.
He leaned far over the fence, and was barely able to brush his fingertips against the cut stems. No chance a young boy did this. Had to be a man, or a boy almost as old as a man, in order to reach that far with a pair of shears or a knife.
So it was a man, not a boy. Not that he’d ever really thought it could have been a boy. The calculating nature of the note bespoke a cunning person whose aim was clearly to divide Jake and his wife.
Unfortunately, knowing it was a man didn’t get Jake any closer to discovering the identity of the perpetrator. He wasn’t sure of his next move, but he hoped a day of good, hard work would help him free up his mind.
Chapter 23
Tuesday, July 29, 1890
Days went by with no more incidents, and no more evidence of who had left the flowers. Jake had begun to hope it was just a secret admirer after all—not that the idea gave him much comfort, because whoever it was must be a little bit off his rocker, to think Lilly would want to run off with a total stranger.
Despite asking the few neighbors across the alley—whose backyards faced Jake and Lilly’s apartment—Jake hadn’t been able to find anyone who had seen the culprit on the day the flowers were left. Only one person had noticed anything unusual—old Mrs. Gregory, whose backyard was directly opposite his own yard—and she gave Jake a critical scowl as she recalled hearing a loud crash, and some yelling. Jake was mortified, realizing she’d overheard his own tantrum over the flowers—and that she knew it was he who had done the yelling.
At one point, he had considered visiting the railroad station and asking around, but Helena was no countryside railroad depot—it saw trains every day, with many passengers getting on or off. He had no photograph of Bennett to show around, nothing but a basic description of the man, which would likely describe a fair amount of the male passengers.
It seemed unlikely that Bennett would come all the way to Montana to stir up trouble, then sit back and wait indefinitely. Jake had to consider that someone else might be the perpetrator—and it irked him to know that unless further contact was made, they might never know who sent the flowers.
Lilly was becoming restless, eager to do some gardening or at least get out in town and see other people. She had become accustomed to living in the heart of Helena, where on any day that she needed to get out and see a friendly face, she could visit any shop along Main Street. The isolation of staying indoors all day was getting to her, and that morning over breakfast, she begged him to let her do something outside the house.
Jake sighed and set down his fork. “I suppose if you really need to get out, you could go visit Mrs. Porter at the butcher shop, or come see me. But I don’t want you running all over town, and I especially don’t want you working in the garden. I know how keen you are to get out there, but it can hold until this weekend when I’m home with you. The last thing I want is you bent over, preoccupied with your plants, when someone decides to sneak up behind you.”
“I really think you’re worrying too much—if Theodore Bennett was in town, he’d have shown up by now. Patience was never Theodore’s thing. It has been so long, I think we must have been mistaken. Believe me, if I thought he was here, I wouldn’t step foot outside.”
“I don’t necessarily agree….but I know we can’t live in fear forever. I think I should come back in an hour or two and escort you into town. I’m not planning on bringing the wagon today, anyway, so we can have ourselves a nice walk. You can shop or visit while I go back to work. Then when you’re done, you can come to the smithy and wait until the midday break, and I’ll walk back with you, and have dinner with you.”
Lilly tiled her head forward and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to sit in a steaming hot smithy on a bright, sunny day in August? If the boredom doesn’t kill me, the heat will.”
“I seem to manage fine.”
“You’re used to it! And you don’t have to wear stays or heavy crinolines or a chemise or pantaloons…”
“Alright, I get the idea.”
“…nor do you have a pile of hair twisted up on your head, nor are you expecting a baby…”
“Alright! You win. Go to town on your own—but be careful. Bring a knife in a basket, or something, and keep your wits about you. It will make me feel better.”
“I will. I was thinking of making the rounds to pay off our accounts for this month. And I might pick up some new fabric, too. I hate the expense, since I just made myself two new dresses, but they’re clearly not going to fit me for much longer.”
“You’ll wear the new dresses again after the baby is born. You buy whatever you need.” He wiped his mouth on his napkin, then stood and kissed the top of her head. “And don’t worry about how we’ll afford it—that’s my job.”
***
It was thrilling to finally be able to get out of the house. Lilly couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be cooped up in the house during the last part of her confinement. In fact, if they were to keep her pregnancy a secret from the citizens of Helena, it probably wouldn’t be long until she’d have to stay home every day, to hide her condition until they could leave on their planned trip. She shuddered at the thought.
As she left the house, she tucked a paring knife between the folds of a handkerchief and slipped it into her market basket. She was very careful as she left the yard, peering up and down the alley to make sure no one laid in wait for her. It was nerve-wracking walking around the corner, but once she turned onto Main Street, she was able to breathe a sigh of relief.
She stopped by the Porters’ butcher shop first to talk to pay their account there, and talk to Madeline. Unfortunately, the visit couldn’t be a long one—Madeline was meeting with one of her bachelors to discuss several options from the most recent batch of letters she’d received, from potential brides. Sometimes Lilly wondered if Jake really would have chosen her for a wife, if he’d had more girls to choose from. But she pushed that thought aside as she left the butcher shop and walked down to Dr. Archer’s office.
Upon entering the doctor’s office, she saw Dr. Foyle leaving the examination room, handing a tonic to a woman, with instructions on dosage. He glanced Lilly’s way, but she looked away quickly, not wanting to even have to exchange pleasantries with the man.
“Lilly!” exclaimed Dr. Archer from behind the large desk. “How good to see you. What can I do for you this fine day?”
“I came to pay our bill, while I’m out on errands today.”
“Splendid. Let me take care of that for you.” He looked up her account and took her payment. “Are you on your way to see Jake, now?”
“No,” laughed Lilly. “On a hot day like today? You must think me mad! No, I’m off to pick out fabric at the mercantile and settle up there, and then I’ll be on my way home to get dinner ready for Jake.”
“When you see him, you tell him I’m still waiting for him to come see that hunting cabin of mine.”
Lilly giggled. “I suspect you may be waiting a while longer yet. He doesn’t like to spend any time on his weekends away from me—not even to get ahead on the Crowley job. And later on…well…I think he’ll be wanting to stay close to home, with me.”
“Yes, I see what you mean. Well, you have a nice day now—stay out of that sun, and drink plenty of water.”
“I will. Thank you, Dr. Archer.”
As she left, Lilly almost bumped into a man on the sidewalk. She looked up to see Wilbur Warren peering at her with a frown.
“Should look where you’re going,” he muttered. “You could get hurt just wandering around, looking at the ground.”
Lilly said nothing.
“Seems like I see you comin’ outta that doctor’s office a lot.”
A lot? Three times was hardly ‘a lot’. Didn’t the man have a
farm to tend? “How would you know—?”
“You sick or something? Or is that no-good husband of yours working you too hard?”
“Listen here, Mr. Warren. You have no right to say such things about—”
“Sure, sure, I’d expect you to defend him,” Warren said, waving away her objection. “Thing is, I know all about Jake Morgan. Men like him, they always get what they want, while hard-working fellas like myself barely get by. He chases his wife off, while mine dies in my arms. Now he’s got a pretty little thing like you, and he don’t even appreciate you. Letting you get sick, and have to walk yourself to the doctor.” He took a step closer. “If you were my wife—”
“She’s not your wife, so back away,” Dr. Archer called from the open doorway of the doctor’s office. “Go about your business, and don’t let me hear you saying any more about Jake Morgan, or you’ll have me to contend with.”
Warren stood his ground. “You always defend him, but he doesn’t deserve it.”
Dr. Archer came down a step. “You heard what I said.”
“What are you gonna do, old man?”
“I may be old, but I’m still quick, and I’m a doctor. I know half a dozen places on the human body where one quick jab can do severe damage…maybe even kill a man.” He took the last step, down onto the sidewalk, until he was eye to eye with Warren. “You care to test me on that?”
Warren held his ground yet, then something flickered through his eyes, and he swallowed. “Fine,” he grunted, still holding Dr. Archer’s gaze. “Have it your way.” He backed up a step, nodding at Lilly. “Ma’am.” Then he sauntered away, casting a long glare over his shoulder as he went.
Lilly let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. That man is just begging for a good fist in the jaw. He’s just lucky Jake is such a good man, or he’d have gotten that punch a long time ago. I’m half-tempted to do the deed for him.”
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