A Good Man for Katie

by Marie Patrick

  Emeline gasped and blurted, “But how?”

  “He’d been beaten, but Terrence said his skull had been crushed. I-I can’t help feeling this is my fault.”

  “Your fault?” Laurel asked as she rose to her feet and joined them at the window. “Why?”

  Kathryne never had a chance to answer the question as Terrence opened the front door and poked his head into the parlor. “Townsend has finally decided to make an appearance.”

  Kathryne grabbed her shawl from the chair where she’d tossed it earlier and wrapped it around her shoulders as she stepped outside to meet him. The other women followed, shrugging into their coats, wrapping scarves around their necks against the frigid air.

  “What the hell was so all-fired important you dragged me away from my breakfast?” Sheriff Townsend demanded as he climbed out of the buckboard, displeasure evident on his face, in the stiffness of his back, in the hands that fisted at his sides.

  After seeing Shep as she had, after enduring the suspicious looks of her neighbors and hearing their speculation, his greeting was not the friendliest, nor the least bit reassuring. Definitely not what she wanted or needed to hear. Sarge sidled up beside her, his stance rigid, his teeth showing as Townsend took a step closer to her.

  Kathryne dug her fingers into the thick fur around the dog’s neck as she stiffened, every muscle in her body taut as she bit back the scathing retort on the tip of her tongue. It wouldn’t do to make Townsend angrier than he already appeared to be, but the urge to slap his face overwhelmed her. She fought to remain in control and pleasant. “I apologize for interrupting your meal, Sheriff. However, I found Shep Turner in my schoolhouse this morning. He’s dead.”

  He didn’t seem surprised by her announcement. Indeed, he didn’t even seem interested—his face remained a perfect mask of indifference. He said nothing as he walked away from her toward the schoolhouse. “You can all go home,” he said to the crowd moving closer to the building, the tone of his voice brooking no argument. “Ain’t nothing to see here.” He stood at the door, hands on his hips until the townspeople slowly dispersed, then went inside the schoolhouse, his movements stiff.

  Francine and her husband, George, were the last people left standing in the schoolyard. Neither of them budged. Kathryne watched them, her stomach twisting, nausea rising, her hands trembling so badly she clasped them together to keep them still.

  They were arguing, Francine’s normally porcelain skin red and blotchy, and not from the cold. Her voice rose in anger and Kathryne caught a bit of what she said. She winced and studied the tips of her boots peeking out from beneath her skirt.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Emeline whispered in her ear. “She doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know you’d never hurt anyone.”

  After a moment, George left his wife standing alone and approached Kathryne, a timid but reassuring smile on his lips. He extended his business card. “In case you need counsel.”

  “Thank you, but I’ve done nothing wrong,” she said and lifted her gaze to his. The sympathy she saw flashing in his eyes nearly became her undoing and she sucked in her breath to keep her fear, as well as her tears, at bay. “I didn’t kill Mr. Turner.”

  “Be that as if may,” he said, but didn’t finish his sentence as he tipped his hat then rejoined his wife. Francine, her mouth twisted as if she tasted something sour, didn’t speak to him. Instead, she glared at Kathryne for a long time, censure burning in her eyes. She’d never forgotten how her vote to hire Kathryne had been over-ruled. After a moment, Francine spun on her heel and stomped down the hill. George followed, a merry whistle on his lips, apparently unconcerned by his wife’s more than icy attitude.

  So drawn was she to Francine’s obvious disapproval, that she didn’t hear Townsend until he stood right beside her. “You kill him?”

  “What?” Kathryne jumped, startled by the question.

  “Did you kill Turner?” Townsend repeated as he shoved his gloved hands into his coat pockets. His weight shifted from one leg to the other as his stare bore into her.

  Taken aback, frightened by his expression and the knowledge he thought she might have been involved, Kathryne declared, “No! I didn’t kill him. Why would I?”

  Townsend shrugged his slim shoulders. “He’d been bothering you. Tried to push you into an alley. You told me so yourself.”

  “She couldn’t have done this, Townsend,” Terrence interjected. “A great deal of force was necessary to do that kind of damage to Shep’s skull. Kate just doesn’t have the strength.”

  Townsend quirked an eyebrow and Kathryne knew he didn’t believe Terrence’s explanation for a second. In his eyes, doubt and suspicion lingered but instead of asking her again if she’d killed Turner, he asked, “Where’s Hunter?”

  Kathryne shook her head and a blush heated her face. “How would I know? He doesn’t report his comings and goings to me.”

  His eyes glittered and the cold expression on his face made her shiver more than the freezing temperature and the snow beginning to fall. “Ain’t what I heard,” he said as his eyes skimmed her body, his gaze lewd and appalling. Kathryne had an insane desire to cover herself, protect herself from the inappropriate study. “Heard he spends a lotta time ‘round here.”

  Fear left a metallic taste in her mouth as the implication of his words hit her and yet, she didn’t want him to see how afraid she’d become.

  “I’m taking you in. Let’s go.”

  Her heart thundered against her ribcage as she drew in her breath. Whatever composure she managed to retain slipped and she couldn’t stop her voice from cracking. “Am I under arrest?”

  He didn’t answer as he snatched her arm. Sarge let out a harsh growl and stepped between them, the hair on his back standing straight up, teeth showing. Sheriff Townsend glanced at the dog then removed his hand from her arm. “Get in the wagon and leave that damned dog here. I ain’t gettin’ bit.”

  “Sarge, you stay,” she ordered as she walked toward the buckboard, and climbed into the seat. It could have been worse. He could have slapped handcuffs around her wrists. If she thought she’d had trouble before, the townspeople seeing her escorted to the sheriff’s office in handcuffs would have more than settled her fate. He left her in the buckboard and went back to the schoolhouse, white plumes of steam escaping his mouth resembling the smoke from a train as he stomped over the snow covered ground.

  Tears smarted Kathryne’s eyes as Townsend and Terrence carried Shep’s body toward the buckboard. With a thump, they laid him in the back and covered him with a piece of canvas tarp.

  “Do you want us to come with you?”

  Kathryne couldn’t speak over the constriction in her throat or the fear knotting her stomach. She grabbed Emeline’s hand and squeezed as she swallowed hard and finally found her voice. “Yes, please,” she whispered. “Terry, too, and perhaps, Mr. Maitland.” She sucked in her breath and tried to still the thundering of her heart. “I’ve done nothing wrong, Emy. I have nothing to hide.” But even as she said the words, she knew she had plenty to keep secret.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sarge scrambled from his place in front of the fireplace, tail wagging, ears perked, and ran for the kitchen door, his nails clicking on the floor, the growl-groan coming from his throat growing in intensity. The dog only acted that way with one person.

  Chase.

  His name flittered through her head and her heartbeat picked up speed.

  Kathryne laid her book on the table and followed. She didn’t even pull aside the curtain covering the small window before she flung open the kitchen door and fell into his arms. It felt like the most natural thing in the world and she let herself be comforted and consoled within his embrace. After spending more than three hours earlier today being questioned—indeed, being accused—by Townsend, she needed consolation. She hadn’t been arrested, but she certainly felt as if she’d been on trial with Townsend acting as judge and jury, finding both her and Chase guilty. In his eyes, they’d murd
ered Shep, she by association with Chase alone.

  She realized two things while Townsend questioned her. The sheriff hated Chase with a passion that startled her…and she loved the same man, with equal passion.

  “Edna told me what happened as soon as I walked into the Wagon Wheel,” he whispered into her hair. The reverberations of his deep, rich voice rippled through her. “Are you all right?”

  “I am now.” She nodded against the hard planes of his chest while Sarge circled around them, his wagging tail hitting the table leg in his excitement.

  “Tell me what happened.” His arms wrapped tighter around her and Kathryne reveled in his strength, in the warmth of his embrace.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered into his coat. “Townsend is looking for you. He thinks you murdered Shep because of me.” She pulled away and stared into the soft gray of his eyes. “I know you didn’t do this. I know in my heart. Please tell me I’m right.”

  He gazed into her face, his thumb smoothing along her cheek, and in the space of an indrawn breath, she knew the truth. He hadn’t killed anyone. Whatever seed of doubt Townsend had planted in her mind disappeared without a trace. Anger surged through her, anger that she had started to believe the accusations Townsend had spewed.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she melted into his arms once more.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said as his hand gently caressed her back through the thin silk of her blouse. “I can only imagine the horrible things Townsend said.” A long sigh escaped him, his chest rising and falling beneath her cheek. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “No.” She shuddered as she remembered Townsend’s face, his hands balling into fists as he paced the small confines of the sheriff’s office. “He didn’t touch me, but there were moments when I wasn’t sure if he would.”

  His body stiffened, his heart beating a rapid tattoo in his chest beneath her ear. “He’s lucky.”

  “Lucky?” She pulled away from him and took a step back. “How?”

  “If he had touched you, he would be dead.” His voice came out almost strangled. A frown pulled his dark brows together, making him appear sinister.

  “Oh, Chase, don’t say that. It frightens me.”

  He said nothing, didn’t try to reassure her that his words were just that—words. In her soul, Kathryne knew if Townsend had hurt her, Chase would once again be her rescuer and Crystal Springs would need a new sheriff. His statement wasn’t just an idle threat, but the truth, plainly spoken.

  “It’ll be all right now, Katie. I’m here.” He tilted her chin upward with his thumb and gazed into her eyes then pulled her into him as his mouth captured hers. Kathryne breathed in his scent, his warmth and let the touch of his lips melt away the terror of her day.

  “Show me where you found Shep,” he said as he broke the kiss and pulled away from her. She nodded and reached for the shawl hanging on the peg beside the door.

  “Don’t you have anything warmer than that shawl?” As he asked the question, the corners of his mouth tilted upward.

  She shrugged as she wrapped the long length of fabric around her shoulders. “I didn’t know Arizona could get so cold. I’d always heard it was a desert with unrelenting heat so I didn’t pack anything warmer and I just haven’t gotten around to buying a coat.”

  “Stay right here. Don’t move.” He left her in the doorway, the frigid temperature outside making her shiver despite the warmth of the woolen wrap. Curious, she watched him reach into Champion’s saddlebag and pull out a paper-wrapped package. The devil-may-care grin was firmly in place as he bounded up the back steps and handed the bundle to her. “Here.”

  “What is it?”

  “Open it and find out.”

  Kathryne moved away from the door and laid the package on the table. She pulled the strings, releasing the bow, and peeled back the plain brown paper to reveal Wedgwood blue fabric, dark fur and big tortoise-shell buttons. She held the garment up, unfolding the length from the paper, which floated to the floor unheeded. Sarge sniffed at the wrapping, his big paws making the paper crinkle, tail wagging, obviously in the mood to play.

  “Not now, Sarge.” Chase picked up the paper and stuffed it in the box of kindling beside the stove.

  “Oh, Chase, it’s a beautiful cape.” She rubbed the fur along her cheek, reveling in the softness as she watched him. “But I can’t accept it.”

  “Nonsense. You can and you will.”

  He removed the shawl from her shoulders and hung it back on the hook then took the cape from her hands, his long fingers unbuttoning the garment before he spread the material around her. The cape fell to just below her waist. Instantly, the warmth of the wool embraced her, the fur trimming the neckline tickling her neck and ears.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her throat closing, tears springing to her eyes. He cared for her well-being, enough to have gone through the trouble of finding the perfect gift. The knowledge made her heart beat a little faster in her chest. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Your shawl isn’t nearly warm enough and after the other night, I don’t want to see you in it again until the weather warms up. You could have frozen to death, Katie. I—I…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence, but one look at his face, and Kathryne understood. She could have succumbed to the freezing temperatures, her body covered in snow, hidden from sight. The thought made her realize how lucky she’d been.

  He finished buttoning the cape and adjusted the collar as Kathryne slid her hands through the fur-lined slits in the sides. Grin firmly in place, he offered his arm. “Shall we?”

  Kathryne slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.

  “Come on, Sarge.” The dog needed no second invitation. The words were barely out of Chase’s mouth before the furry beast barreled between them and shot out the door as if his tail were on fire.

  Moonlight glittered on the snow that had fallen earlier in the day, adding to the drifts still in place from the last storm. Kathryne couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her as the dog bounded through the expanse of pristine white. At times, all she could see was his tail fanning the air as he shoveled through the white stuff with his nose. “He is the oddest animal. He acts more like a child than a dog sometimes, and I swear he understands every word I say.”

  “He’s a good companion though, isn’t he? A good protector?” Chase asked as they walked to the front of the house and the little bridge spanning the swiftly flowing stream. “I heard how he wouldn’t let anyone into the schoolhouse.”

  “He was adamant about not letting the children see what was inside. He didn’t even want me to see. I wish I hadn’t.” She shivered, despite the warmth of the cape, despite Chase’s closeness, as she told him about Sarge’s strange behavior. “He was gentle though. Never growled. Never showed his teeth. As Joe said, it was the darnedest thing.”

  The object of their discussion raced to the door of the schoolhouse and shook the snow from his fur. He watched them expectantly, tail wagging, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

  “Stay, Sarge.” Chase ordered and the dog sank to his haunches, his body rigid.

  The strong scent of lye soap permeated the air in the schoolhouse as Kathryne opened the door and lit the lantern hanging on the wall. She didn’t have to say a word. Chase strode toward the blotch of faded crimson marring the floorboards.

  “He didn’t die here,” he said, his voice echoing in the empty room.

  “How can you tell?” Kathryne wrapped her arms around herself for comfort as the vision of Shep’s cold, lifeless body passed through her mind.

  “There’s not enough blood.” He bent down and rubbed his fingers over the stain. “If he’d been killed in the schoolhouse, there would have been a lot more, especially with the wound he had. Heads bleed.” He walked around the coatroom, his boot heels heavy on the wooden planks.

  “There seemed to be a lot to me. Took hours to clean it up after Townsend let me come home.�
�� She didn’t move away from the door, didn’t want to step any closer to the stain on the floor. Even though Shep’s body had been moved to the undertaker’s, she could still see him laying there—the vacant expression in his eyes, the blood surrounding him, the bruises marring his face.

  “Do you hear that?”

  Kathryne jumped, startled from the visions in her mind. “What?”

  “Listen.” He walked around in a circle and she heard what he did.

  “The sound is different. Almost like there’s a hollow space underneath the boards. I’ve never heard that before.” Curiosity replaced her anxiety and she took several steps closer to him, but avoided the blotches of faded crimson.

  He crouched and ran his fingertips over the wooden planks. Without warning, he stuck his middle finger into a small knothole and pulled up. The entire section of flooring moved with the simple action, revealing a dark hole beneath the schoolhouse.

  Kathryne sucked in her breath. “It’s a doorway,” she whispered. “No wonder I feel as if someone is coming in here at night. I thought it was one of the older boys.”

  “I’m assuming this is how Shep came to be in the schoolhouse without you or Sarge hearing or seeing anything. The question is who put him here. I can pretty much figure out why.” He looked at her.

  She wondered about the apology she saw in the soft gray of his eyes and a blush heated her cheeks. Until she realized what he’d implied by his statement. What better way to get rid of an unwanted man and a woman who asked too many questions than to implicate them in murder? The thought was enough to strike fear in her heart.

  “Would you bring the lantern?”

  Quickly, Kathryne unhooked the lantern hanging off the wall and lowered it slightly into the hole. Light flared into the empty space, which wasn’t so empty. Trash littered the floor—old whiskey bottles, newspapers, a lantern missing its glass, a rickety ladder with broken rungs, a threadbare blanket, and oddly enough, a woman’s shoe.