by Jo Goodman
Although they had been circling the topic of her marriage and Adam for a while, Raine still required a moment to get her feet under her. She tried to recall what she had told Kellen about Adam. She had no idea what Walt or any other of the hotel staff might have said.
“Yes,” she said finally. “He knew about the cancer when he came here. Ellen and I arrived a few weeks later. We could see that he was considerably worse than when he left us in Sacramento.”
“You married him here?”
“He made his proposal here. I accepted.” It was too difficult to look at him now. “We were never together as husband and wife, and we did not share a bed before that. I nursed him, cared for him, but never slept with him. I loved him. We were brother as to sister, not husband as to wife.”
Raine held her teacup like a bowl, warming her hands. She took a small swallow before her eyes darted back to Kellen. “I loved him,” she said again, and left no room for doubt that she meant it.
Kellen nodded, finished his whiskey, then set the glass on the table. He stood. “I’d better be going. About that invitation I extended, I think it would be better if you didn’t take me up on it.”
“All right. Whatever you like.”
“It isn’t what I like,” he said. “But it’s what’s best.”
That did not do anything to lessen her humiliation. She bit back a childish response.
“Raine.”
She turned away, stared at her cup.
She waited until she heard his footfalls on the stairs before she moved to lock the door.
Mrs. Sterling was beside herself by the time Raine entered the kitchen. Emily had failed to show up, and the cook had steak, eggs, and fried potatoes all ready to go to the dining room by the time she wound down her complaints.
“Did you ask Walt to go to the Ransom home to see if Emily was there?” Raine gathered each plate as soon as Mrs. Sterling slapped food on it.
“Course, I did. You don’t see him here, do you?”
“He’ll walk in with her any moment,” Raine said. “And I have two hands to help you in the meantime.”
“Sure, and you’ll need them to carry the bags under your eyes.”
Raine sighed. Emily’s absence had only delayed the inevitable. “Give me that last plate,” she said, extending her hand so her forearm could serve as a tray.
“Be careful,” Mrs. Sterling said. “That’s for the four at Howard Wheeler’s table.”
Raine pushed her way into the dining room, pasting a smile on her face. She quickly noted everyone present as she served Howard, Jack Clifton, Ted Rush, and Charlie Patterson their first course. Taking the coffeepot from the sideboard, she went around the tables, pouring coffee.
When she returned to the kitchen, there were four more plates ready for her, this time on a tray. “Did you see the whiskey drummer out there?” Mrs. Sterling asked.
“No, no Mr. Weyman.” She ticked off the diners on her fingers. “Mr. Jones. Mr. and Mrs. Stanley. Mr. Petit.”
“Who’s Mr. Petit?”
“Our guest in room four,” Raine reminded her. “The man from Virginia with all the camera equipment.”
“Oh, of course.…What about that fellow from London?”
“I forgot. Mr. Reasoner’s there. He asked for tea.”
“Is every Englishman as particular about it as he is? Because there is no pleasure in making it for him when he turns up his nose while he’s drinking it. I can’t say that I’ll be sad to see him go, and I won’t miss his accent either. How much longer is he staying?”
“He’s decided to stay for at least another month,” Raine said. “Blame Mr. Petit. They’ve become friends.” She laughed at Mrs. Sterling’s long face. “It’s not that terrible. They’re gone as often as they’re here. Mr. Petit takes his photographs for stereographs and geographic periodicals, and Mr. Reasoner assists him with the equipment in exchange for Mr. Petit acting as a guide. You only have to make tea a few times a week.”
The cook was hardly placated. She harrumphed softly and thrust the tray at Raine. “Take this. I’ll make tea in the special pot for Mr. Reasoner.”
Raine swept back into the dining room, passed plates to another group of diners, and took a few minutes to chat with the Stanleys, who were leaving later in the day. Kellen Coltrane still had not arrived. It was probably just as well. Every table had at least three people seated and several had four. If he showed up, he would have to tolerate company. It might press him to draw his guns.
Mr. Jones looked up as she passed. He said nothing, but there was most definitely an invitation in his eyes.
Raine pointed to the kitchen and smiled regretfully. “I’m afraid I don’t have a minute to call my own this morning. Emily’s not here.”
“And we are all poorer for it.”
“Indeed.” She smiled again, more brightly this time, and hurried off. When she reached the kitchen, Walt was there. Emily was not. Her absence had required filling, and two more girls, Renee Harrison and Cecilia Ross, had been sent for to help with the service. The cousins generally worked well together, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating what the other needed before it was requested, but now they were bumping into each other in their haste to do Mrs. Sterling’s bidding.
“Is Emily sick this morning?” Raine asked Walt.
“Can’t say. She’s not at home. Her ma’s frantic. She didn’t know Emily wasn’t here until I came around looking for her. I walked to the livery with Mrs. Ransom ’cause I figured you wouldn’t want me to leave her when she was so upset. I suppose she was hopin’ Emily would be there or that Mr. Ransom would know something. T’ain’t neither that was true. Now Mr. Ransom’s got to runnin’ around like a chicken without a head. He don’t rightly know what he wants to do. When she shows herself, I think he’s goin’ to hug her once and whup her twice.”
Mrs. Sterling said, “That girl doesn’t have enough sense to make change for a nickel. I’ve seen her with Mr. Weyman, and I know what thoughts she’s been putting in his mind. The drummer’s got a sideways glance for her, too.”
“Anyone else?” Raine asked.
“Anyone? There’s everyone.”
“Mrs. Sterling.” Raine quelled her with a look. “That’s not helpful. Emily is a flirt. But she’s not free with her favors.”
“That’s only because we watch out for her.” She looked to Walt for confirmation. “Don’t you watch out for Emily, Walt?”
“I do,” he said gravely.
“Did you walk her home last night?” asked Mrs. Sterling.
“I did. Sue, too. Well, Sue and Charlie walked together. I stayed back with Emily. Saw her straight to her door. Said good evening to her pa and he thanked me.”
“See?” said Mrs. Sterling. “Now, what happens when we’re not around is speculation, but I can speculate plenty.”
Raine sighed. “I’m sure you can. Walt, go help Sue with the rooms. I’ll be in the saloon. Mrs. Sterling, come and get me if she shows up. I do want to talk to her.”
In the saloon, Raine used her talent for figures and figuring to try to push thoughts of Kellen Coltrane and worries about Emily Ransom out of her mind. She found herself tallying some of the columns several times before she was confident of her answers.
“Mrs. Sterling said I could find you here.”
It was the town’s deputy.
Raine closed the ledger in front of her and set her pencil down. She managed to school her look of annoyance, but only just.
Dan Sugar hooked his boot around a chair and dragged it from the table. He spun the seat toward him and straddled it. Deputy Sugar had a cherub’s cheerfully rounded features and the disposition of a man with a chronic toothache. He was short of stature and temperament and disliked having to leave his office except to take a whiskey in the saloon across the street. He had been Benton Sterling’s deputy for only a few months before Benton was killed. There was talk of making him marshal since no one else came forward to take the job, but t
he appointment was never made. Uriah Burdick made it known the position should go to Deputy Sugar, but he did not try to push it through. Dan Sugar’s title was of little consequence. He was the law, and he did what the Burdicks wanted.
“Mr. Ransom wants to know what happened to Emily,” Sugar said. He lifted his hat, wiped his broad brow, and set it back on his head. “I aim to find out.”
“Good. I would like to know as well.”
“What time was she supposed to be here this morning?”
“Six. The same as always.”
“No one saw her around?”
“I didn’t. I think that’s also true for Mrs. Sterling and Walt, but you should ask them.”
“I have. They said the same as you.” He leaned back, pulled out his pocket watch, and checked the time. “It’s almost eleven thirty.”
Raine had no idea it was already so late. “What do her parents think?”
“You know them. Sarah’s sure she’s dead. Ed’s sure she’s run off with a man.”
“They don’t have any thoughts that are less calamitous?”
“Do you?”
“Perhaps she went for a walk and injured herself. Or maybe she’s visiting someone. Have you started a search? Begun to go door to door?”
“I’m here now, aren’t I? You have a door. Several, in fact.”
“She’s not here. It was Walt who went looking for her. He and Mrs. Sterling are the ones who missed her.”
“You sent Walt to see the Ransoms.”
“Yes. Naturally.”
“Did you send him upstairs here at the hotel?”
“I did later so he could help Sue.” She frowned. “What are you suggesting, Deputy?”
He shrugged broad, lumpy shoulders. “I understand Sue and Walt clean the rooms while the guests are at breakfast.”
“That’s right.”
“But if a guest doesn’t go to breakfast?”
“Then they tidy it later.”
“And if the guest doesn’t leave his room?”
“Sue would probably knock and ask if the guest required anything.”
“If there was no answer?”
Impatient now, Raine tapped the point of her pencil against the ledger. “Have you asked Sue?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. She says that she did not go into Mr. Weyman’s room.”
“That’s understandable.”
“She also did not speak to Mr. Coltrane.”
“He makes Sue nervous,” she said and immediately wished she could call the words back. Dan Sugar was looking at her as if she’d just spit a ruby into his lap. “Sue is easily flustered.”
“Is she? I hadn’t noticed.”
That was a damn lie, Raine knew, but she let it go unchallenged. “What do you want from me?”
“Permission to go into the rooms that Sue and Walt didn’t. I don’t need it, of course, but I thought it was only polite to ask.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Raine. “I just need to get the spare keys.”
“I’d rather take the keys and go alone, if you don’t mind.”
“But I do. Mind, that is. This will only take a minute.”
After retrieving the keys from behind the registry desk, Raine led Deputy Sugar to the second floor. George Weyman’s door was the first one they came to. She knocked politely and asked to be allowed to enter.
There was no response.
“I’ll use my key,” she said and inserted it into the lock. It turned easily. She pushed the door open a few inches and called again before letting it swing wide.
They both saw at a glance that Mr. Weyman was not in the bedroom. The bedclothes were rumpled. One pillow lay at the foot of the bed, the other lay on the floor. Raine crossed to the wardrobe while the deputy looked in the bathing room.
“He’s not in here,” said Sugar.
“His clothes are gone.” Raine looked around and noticed what she hadn’t before. “His drummer’s suitcase is missing.”
“The whiskey samples?”
“Whiskey. Bourbon. Scotch. Rye. It’s all gone.”
“So he left town.”
“He was supposed to leave next week. He was waiting for a telegram from his company. They were mapping out a new route for him. Expanding his territory.”
“Maybe he got word early. I’ll check with Jeff Collins.”
Raine nodded.
“You think Emily Ransom ran some?”
Raine did not think Deputy Sugar was as clever as he thought he was. “I hope you will not repeat that again.”
“I might. Some folks around here have a funny bone.” When she said nothing, he told her he was finished with the drummer’s room and waved her out. He followed behind, closed the door, and waited for her to lock it. “I still want to talk to your other guest that Sue didn’t see this morning. Mr. Coltrane, is it?”
“Yes.” She led him down the hall to the last room. Deputy Sugar rapped his knuckles hard against the door before she had the opportunity, but she called out for Kellen first and announced the presence of the deputy immediately afterward.
There was no answer. Sugar prompted Raine to insert the key. She had it pointed at the lock when the door began to move away.
Kellen’s body filled the opening. He looked from Raine to the man standing just to the rear of her shoulder. “Yes?”
“This is Deputy Sugar, Mr. Coltrane,” Raine said. “He would like to have a word with you.”
“Deputy,” Kellen said, nodding briefly. “What can I do for you?”
“Invite me in, for one thing.”
“Is your business with me or my room?”
Raine was standing close enough to Dan Sugar to feel the deputy stiffen. “Emily Ransom did not come to work this morning. She’s not at home. No one knows what’s happened to her.”
Kellen stood aside and let them in. “She’s certainly not here, but you’re welcome to look around.”
Deputy Sugar looked at Raine. “You can go, Mrs. Berry. No reason for you to be here while I ask Mr. Coltrane a few questions.”
“I don’t mind if she stays,” said Kellen. “She would probably like to have her mind set at ease.”
“Suit yourself,” Sugar said carelessly. He went to the bathing room first and stood on the threshold, glancing around. Shrugging, he went to the large wardrobe and opened the doors slowly.
Kellen observed how the deputy braced himself as if he expected Miss Ransom to leap out at him. Kellen studiously avoided looking at Raine. “You’ll want to look under the bed.”
Sugar did eventually, but to demonstrate that he did not appreciate the suggestion, he pointed to the two trunks and asked to see inside.
It was an absurd request because neither trunk was big enough to hide Emily Ransom. Rabbit could have squeezed into one, his brother into the other, but both wiry little boys could not have managed to make a home in one of them at the same time.
At Kellen’s nod, Sugar lifted the lid on the trunk at the foot of the bed. It was empty. The other trunk was positioned near the table and chair in such a way that it was obvious Kellen had been using it as a footrest. Sugar looked inside.
From where she stood, Raine had a glimpse of one of the hotel’s colorful quilts. It was an extra one—probably one he requested and that Sue or Walt had given to him from the linen closet.
Sugar brushed off his hands as he stood after examining under the bed. “She’s not here.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Kellen said gravely.
“Couldn’t take you at your word,” Sugar told him. “Not when I don’t know you from Adam.” He glanced at Raine. “That’s just an expression, Mrs. Berry. I wasn’t talking about your Adam.”
“I understood that.”
“Good.” Sugar turned his attention to the writing utensils and paper on the table. Most of the paper appeared to be blank, but several sheets had been scrawled upon. He reached for one.
“That’s private,” Kellen said before Sugar’s fingers
had closed over it. “My work.”
“I heard you were some kind of reporter for a New York paper.”
Raine spoke up. “The New York World.”
Sugar’s thick fingertips grazed the table as he drew his hand back to his side. “I suppose you want me to buy the paper before I read your story.”
“That’s right,” said Kellen.
“Fair enough. You’ve been here all day?”
“Yes. Working.”
“Did you hear anything down the hall?”
“Nothing that I haven’t heard every other morning.”
“Would you know Emily’s voice?”
“I would know her giggle.”
Raine said, “George Weyman is gone.”
“Weyman,” Kellen repeated. “The whiskey drummer?”
“That’s right. He’s cleaned out his room.”
“Do you think Emily’s eloped with him?”
The deputy shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “That’s a possibility. Trouble is, Mrs. Ransom says that Emily didn’t take anything with her except the clothes on her back. Can’t see that anything’s missing. No note either. Strange that she wouldn’t leave some kind of explanation behind. Keep her ma and pa from worrying.”
Raine’s stomach clenched, and she hugged herself. “Perhaps she was afraid the note would be found while she could still be stopped.”
Dan Sugar continued to rock on his feet. “Could be. I guess the same might explain why she didn’t take any clothes with her.”
Kellen asked, “If she’s gone with Weyman, how did they go?”
“Train most likely,” said Sugar. “I have to talk to Collins.”
Kellen considered that. He was not holding out for a happy ending. “Are you looking for help to start a search?”
“Could be. You volunteering?”
“Yes.”
Dan Sugar’s eyes narrowed to the point he was only squinting out of them. “Now that wouldn’t be because you want to write a story about it for your paper, would it? That doesn’t set right with me. Won’t set right with other folks.”
“I understand. No reporting.”