by Jo Goodman
“She’s fine. What are you doing here? Is there a problem in the hotel?”
“No, sir. Except for the boiler, the Pennyroyal’s quiet. I come for Mrs. Berry. She’ll want to hear this right away.”
“Can’t it wait until morning?”
Walt shook his head. “Don’t think so.”
“Very well.” Kellen stepped aside and ushered Walt in. “I’ll get her. Wait here. Adjust the wick on that lamp, will you? It’s too dark in here.”
Raine was already up and moving by the time Kellen reached her. “I’ll wait here,” he said. “You go on.”
Nodding, Raine finished pulling on her robe as she approached Walt. She looked him over from head to toe. One side of his broad face still had the imprint of his pillow, and his hair was a thatch of spikes.
“What is it, Walt?”
“Thought you’d want to know right away. Scott Pennway’s dead.”
“Dead?” A chill swept through her. She hugged herself. Scott Pennway was a husband, father of three, the town’s blacksmith and well digger, and the seventh juror picked for Isaac Burdick’s trial. Raine gripped the back of the chair she was standing behind. “How?”
“What I heard is that he was feeling poorly. Left his bed to go out to the privy and never came back. Annie got worried after a bit and went looking for him. She found him lying at the foot of the porch steps. Neck broke.”
Even though she had not moved, Raine felt a need to catch her breath. “How do you know this, Walt? Who told you?”
“Howard Wheeler came to get me. You know, he is neighbor to the Pennways.” At her nod, he continued. “I guess Annie raised such a ruckus that she woke Howard. All of her children, too. Howard needed help getting Mr. Pennway into the house, so he sent one of the boys to get me…You going to be all right? You look a tad peaked, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”
“I’m sure it’s more than a tad, but I’ll be fine.” She tried to smile and then wished she had not made the effort. She felt her lips trembling.
“Maybe you should sit down.”
“In a moment.” Her fingertips whitened on the back of the chair. “Did Howard try to move Scott before you got there?”
“I don’t think so. He was lyin’ all twisted up. Mr. Pennway, I mean. It wasn’t natural the way his head was turned. Anyone could see his neck was broke.”
“Did you see a reason for his fall? A loose step? Something he might have tripped over? He was in the saloon this evening. One of the last to leave, as I recall. I did not notice that he was feeling out of sorts. Did you?”
“No, ma’am. He played cards with some of the guests, listened to Ted Rush at the bar for a while, and played the harmonica while Sue was at the piano. Not a hint that he was feelin’ poorly.”
Walt’s recollection was better than Raine’s, but then, she reminded herself, she’d had other things on her mind following Dan Sugar’s visit. “Did he drink a lot? I think I served him once.”
“He had a couple of beers while he was playing cards. Mr. Reasoner was buying, but Mr. Pennway didn’t take advantage. He was walking the straight and narrow when he left here.”
“And what about the porch where you found him?”
“I wasn’t really lookin’ around much. Truth is, it was hard to look anywhere but at Mr. Pennway. Annie had a lantern with her so it wasn’t too dark. There was a broken lamp, some spilled oil, but Annie’s the one who dropped that when she found him. She was bringing out the lantern when I got there. I think Howard asked her to get it to give her something to do. We had a little bit of a time getting Mr. Pennway up the steps. I remember that. They were slick.”
“Because of the lamp oil?”
Walt frowned. “No. Annie dropped the lamp on the porch. There wasn’t enough oil for it to spread to the steps.”
“Then what made them slippery?”
“Could have been ice. It’s cold enough.”
“But they would have had to have been wet first.”
“Can’t say one way or the other about that.”
Before Raine gave full expression to her frustration, Kellen emerged from the bedroom. He was dressed to leave. “Where are you going?”
“To get my hat and coat, and that’s all you need to know.”
Raine opened her mouth and closed it again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that even Walt looked surprised.
“Walt. I could use you. C’mon.”
Walter looked to Raine for permission. “Is that all right with you, Mrs. Berry?”
Kellen had reached the door to the stairwell. “She’s Mrs. Coltrane now, Walt. Keep it to yourself for the time being, but you should know that I’m looking out for her the same as you.”
Walt gaped at Raine. She ignored him in favor of glaring at Kellen. His smug expression remained unchanged.
“Go,” she said. “Both of you. Just go.”
“Lock the door,” Kellen said.
She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but the point of having common sense was to use it. Raine held her tongue, locked the door, and put the kettle on for tea. There was no percentage in pretending she was going back to sleep.
The first thing that Kellen did when he and Walt reached the Pennway house was take note of the occupants through the parlor window. Annie Pennway was being consoled by one of her friends. Howard Wheeler was still there. Kellen couldn’t see the children. He and Walt moved quietly to the backyard so Kellen could study the porch steps. Walt was right about the lamp oil not reaching the lip of the small porch. It was still pooled around the glass shards that no one had swept up. Most of it had either been absorbed by the wood planks or slipped through the cracks between them.
Kellen removed the glove on his right hand and ran his palm over the edge of the porch and both steps. “The wood is not slippery now.” But it was damp. “Did Howard Wheeler comment on the condition of the steps?”
“I was the first one up. He saw me slide. I almost dropped Mr. Pennway’s feet. Howard told me to mind myself.”
“What about Mrs. Pennway? Did she ever step off the porch? Was she with her husband when you got here?”
Walt shook his head. “She was standing just where she dropped the lamp. Like I said, she had a lantern by then, but she didn’t go any farther than she had before.”
“The children?”
“One of them is just a young’un. She was hanging on her mother, cryin’. The younger boy hovered in the doorway. The other fella was the one that Howard sent for me. He helped as best he could with his pa.”
Kellen knelt beside the steps and reached behind them. He patted the ground. It didn’t take him long to find where the ground was wet. A thin film of ice still covered one shallow depression. He sat back on his haunches and pulled his glove back on.
“Where was the body?”
Walt looked critically at the steps and then at the ground. He took up a position a little more than three feet away from the lowest step. “Right here.”
“Head?” When Walt regarded him blankly, Kellen said, “Show me how he was lying when you got here.”
“You want me to show you exactly?”
“That would be helpful.” Walt was stretched out on the hard, cold ground before Kellen could stop him. “All right. That’s exact.”
Walt’s head was closer to the steps than the rest of his body and twisted to the right in a position that probably wasn’t as awkward as Scott Pennway’s had been. His left arm was flung in the direction of the outhouse. The right, partially folded under his body. One leg was bent at a right angle under the other.
Kellen thought the sprawl looked convincing. It was the distance that did not seem right. “You can get up.” He held out a hand and helped Walt to his feet. Clapping him on the back, he brushed him off. “Stay there.”
“Here?”
“Yes.” Kellen took measured steps back to the porch and then he climbed up and turned. Standing on the edge of the porch, he tried to imagine how far he would fly if h
is feet slid out from under him. He did the same on the next step and the next. He stood on solid ground and imagined it again. “I can’t get there from here,” he said.
“How is that again, sir?”
“Talking to myself, Walt. How far does Dr. Kent live from here?”
“Just a piece. It’s the land office, the milliner’s, and then Dr. Kent.”
Kellen got his bearings. “I know the house. Go on back to the hotel, Walt. There’s something I need to do. It’s better if I go alone. You might want to tell Raine that I won’t be long. I doubt if she went back to sleep.”
Walt kicked at the ground and hunched his shoulders. “About that, Mr. Coltrane. Is it true what you said back there? She’s really your wife?”
“It’s true. We’re not ready to tell everyone. You understand?”
“Real good of you to tell me.”
“Anyone can see you’re important to her.”
Walt’s chest puffed out. “She does right by me. Always has.”
Kellen waved Walt forward. “Let’s go before someone sees us and wonders what we’re up to.”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing myself,” Walt confessed.
Rosy ribbons of light were unfolding across the horizon by the time Kellen made it back to the Pennyroyal. He went straight to the kitchen and found Raine turning hotcakes on the griddle while Mrs. Sterling separated strips of bacon for the frying pan.
Mrs. Sterling waggled her knife at him. “Mr. Coltrane, you don’t belong here. Take yourself off to the dining room.”
Raine gave him a helpless shrug. She couldn’t leave the hotcakes.
Kellen noticed Raine’s pinched features. “Can I get a couple of hotcakes and a cup of coffee?”
“You can,” said Mrs. Sterling. “In the dining room.”
Kellen backed out of the kitchen.
“Empty-handed, I see,” John Paul Jones observed as Kellen passed his table.
Kellen shrugged and strode to the table by the window before Jones could invite him to sit down and angled his chair so he had a wider view of the street than the dining room. Mr. Petit and Mr. Reasoner came in together and took a table. Several of the regulars came in soon afterward, including Howard Wheeler. It was clear from the expressions of his companions that he’d already told them about Scott Pennway. Jack Clifton’s face was not merely lean, it was gaunt, and his dark eyes looked hollow. Richard Allen looked as if he was nursing a hangover. The shadows under his eyes were like bruises.
Kellen paid attention to the conversation going on around him, but he didn’t participate.
Mr. Reasoner added sugar to his tea. “It’s inconceivable to me that he’s dead. I played cards with the gentleman last night. Nice chap. Friendly.”
Petit’s brow furrowed. “You say it was a fall? Can that be right?”
Howard Wheeler confirmed it. “Off his back porch. Looked like his feet went right out from under him.”
“Unfortunate,” said Jones. “Truly unfortunate.”
“There are three children,” said Richard Allen. “It’s a shame, is what it is. A damn shame.”
Jack Clifton held out his coffee cup to Raine as she came up on their table. “I don’t like it.” He held Raine’s eyes while she filled his cup. “I don’t like it at all.”
Nodding faintly, Raine moved on. She put a plate of hotcakes in front of Kellen. With her back to the others, she asked him, “Can we talk upstairs?”
“Later. I have to go to the station. Meet the first train in.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. Of course. Their certificate. She had forgotten all about it. “Yes. Later.” More loudly, she said, “The molasses.” She pushed the small pitcher toward him and moved on.
Mr. Jones took more coffee. “Are you well, Mrs. Berry?”
“I am, Mr. Jones. Naturally, I am distressed by what’s happened to Mr. Pennway.”
“Naturally. He frequented your saloon, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He was also a good friend. His wife is a kind, dear woman, and my heart aches for her and the children.”
“I understand.”
She almost took issue with him. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. Raine took his order instead, committing it to memory before she returned to the kitchen. She rattled it off to Mrs. Sterling as she went to Sue’s side. The young woman was sitting on the stool by the table, chewing on the end of one straw-colored braid. Her eyelids were swollen, and her cheeks were mottled with unflattering shades of red and rose. Raine put her arm around Sue’s shoulders.
“Do you want to leave?” asked Raine.
Sue shook her head. “I helped Annie when her baby took ill. It was a hard time for her. I know this is harder.” She looked up at Raine helplessly. “How does a man fall off his porch and break his neck?”
Raine had the same question. “Are you going to be able to help this morning, or should I send Walt to fetch Renee and Cecilia?”
A small shudder gripped Sue when she swallowed a sob. She spoke when it passed. Her throat was clogged with tears, but her voice was steady. “I can do this.” She shrugged off Raine’s arm and stood. She took the tray that Mrs. Sterling held out to her and sucked in a deep breath, and then she made her solemn way back to the dining room.
“The girl’s as fragile as an eggshell,” Mrs. Sterling said. To prove her point, she tapped an egg against the rim of a glass bowl and expertly cracked it open. “You knew about this when you came down this morning, didn’t you?” She did not wait for Raine to answer. “I shouldn’t have to learn about it from Sue; she didn’t need to hear it from Howard or Jack or anyone else. You should have said something right away.”
Raine accepted the dressing-down as deserved. “Walt told me shortly after it happened.” She explained Walt’s involvement but nothing about Kellen’s. “I suppose I didn’t want to believe it. Telling you and Sue would have meant that I had to.”
Mrs. Sterling turned back to the stove. She made clucking, sympathetic noises while she pushed bacon around the frying pan. “Do you think it was an accident?”
“Walt seemed to think it was.”
“I didn’t ask after Walt’s thoughts. I want yours.”
Raine sighed. “I just don’t know. I really don’t.”
“Seems strange.”
“Yes, it does.”
Rabbit and Finn spied Kellen from their bedroom window when he was still fifty yards from the station. They ran downstairs, called out to their grandmother as they flew past her in the kitchen, and tumbled out the back door in their usual dervish manner. They were out of breath when they intercepted Kellen.
“Hey, Mr. Coltrane,” said Rabbit.
“Hey, Mr. Coltrane,” said Finn.
Kellen stopped short of striding over them. He put a hand on the shoulder of each boy and separated them so he could keep walking. “Good morning, boys. No school again today?”
“Nope,” Rabbit said cheerfully. “Granny’s going to make Finn do sums and take-aways later, but I only have to show her I know all the times eights and then I’ll be done.”
Kellen thought he shouldn’t ask, but somehow he always did. “Times eights?”
“One times eight is eight. Two times eight is sixteen. Three times…” Rabbit stopped when Kellen squeezed his shoulder. “You know them?”
“I do. All the way up to the times twelves.” He observed that Rabbit was suitably impressed. Finn, on the other hand, was looking downright sorrowful about sums and take-aways. “Maybe your granny will let you go up to the hotel so Mrs. Berry can help you.”
The suggestion dramatically brightened Finn’s face. He grinned widely. “Are you going to be there?”
“I think so. Why?”
Finn shrugged. “Could be you might show us your guns.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“I can, though. For forty seconds.” He took a big gulp of air, puffed out his cheeks, and proceeded to demonstrate.
Kellen marveled at Finn’s ab
ility to change direction so quickly. The boy’s thoughts had no orderly progression. They ricocheted. Kellen glanced down at Finn’s ballooning cheeks. “That’s a real talent you have there, Finn.”
“Keeps him quiet, too,” said Rabbit.
“And that’s what makes it a gift.” Kellen climbed the steps to the station platform.
“You come here to wait for the train?” Rabbit asked.
“That’s right.”
“Expectin’ someone?”
“No.”
Finn’s cheeks deflated as he pushed all the air out of his lungs in a long, loud whoosh. “Forty-five seconds. Best ever.”
Kellen managed to look suitably impressed. He saw that Rabbit didn’t even try. The boy poked him with his elbow and whispered that his brother always counted too fast. Kellen knew where this was going to go. He slipped into the station as soon as the boys began exchanging barbs.
Jeff Collins waved him in. “No need to stand way over there.”
“I’m holding the door closed.”
“The boys out there?”
Kellen nodded. “They followed me.”
“Well, they do seem to have taken to you. When you think about it, you’ll realize you only have yourself to blame. Most likely you encouraged them.” The station agent returned his pen to the inkstand and pushed aside the paper he was writing on. “What can I do for you, Mr. Coltrane?”
“I came down to take delivery of a package.”
Collins consulted his pocket watch. “The No. 5 won’t be here for another twenty minutes, give or take. You think you can hold back the heathens that long?”
“Probably not.”
“I’ll see that you get it right away.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Suit yourself.”
“I have something I want to send out. When does the next eastbound train come through here?”
“If you’re looking to send it by regular freight, that’d be No. 437. She’ll stop this evening between five and six. I never set my clock by the 437 because it seems there’s always something that pushes her off schedule. Now if you wait a day and send it with the express mail car on No. 448, it will probably get there faster. Wherever there is.”