by Natalie Dean
Bess closed her eyes for a moment, then with a single sweeping motion of her hand, she unlocked the door and pulled it open toward her.
“Can I help you?” she asked the men, her eyes darting from one to the other. The man closest to the door cleared his throat and took a small step forward, revealing a badge in his hand.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Brown? My name is Sheriff Muldoon, and I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”
Darkest Fears
“I just don’t understand; how could this happen? What kind of person could have done this to my husband?” Bess’s hands shook as her china teapot clattered against the small china teacups she had placed around the table. The three men – Sheriff Muldoon, Deputy Smith and Deputy Carter were gathered around, each with his wet hat on the table next to him.
Water had gathered in small puddles on her clean floor, and though each of the men had removed his jacket and left it hanging on the coat hanger in the entryway, they were all drenched from the downpour, and water freely dripped off each of them as they sat around the table. Bess had stoked the fire, trying her best to be as hospitable as possible in spite of the circumstances.
She had hurried into her china and found three sets of cups and plates, and had hurriedly placed them on the table, trying to keep her emotions under control. Part of her felt as though she was going to collapse from grief, while another part of her screamed that it wasn’t true – that it had to be some kind of a hoax.
Bess filled each of the teacups nearly to the brim, then delicately served the steaming liquid to her visitors. The sheriff had told her moments before that her husband was dead – his body found face down in a horse’s watering trough near the Old Sunshine Saloon. The news came as a blow to her heart. Bess felt as though she was in shock, and everything on her went numb.
The only thing she could do was ask questions, so she invited the sheriff and his men into the house for tea. Neither of the deputies spoke much, and all of her questions were answered by the sheriff himself, though he often took his time with his replies.
Sheriff Muldoon once again cleared his throat, looking around the kitchen with great interest as he answered her.
“Well, Ma’am, I can’t rightly say for sure who would have done something like this, or who did do something like this, but perhaps you will be able to help us out with that.” He lifted the steaming teacup to his lips and made a strange blowing sound as he cooled the liquid while he poured it into his mouth. The other two men did the same.
Bess sat down at the head of the table where she had been seated only moments before, and she once again wrapped her hands around her tea mug. By then, her own tea had become cold, but Bess didn’t mind. She didn’t think she could stand the feeling of anything warm in her stomach anyway.
“How?” she asked, looking first at the sheriff then at his two men.
“Well, by looking at this situation I think it’s clear we both know this wasn’t an accident. Was your husband a man for playing cards, Ma’am?” he asked. Bess thought a moment before shaking her head.
“Not that I know of. I didn’t even take him for a drinking man,” she added, and the sheriff nodded.
“There was no indication that he had been intoxicated, and no one inside the saloon had seen him there that night. I think someone did something to your husband and planted him near the saloon to throw us off the trail.” He paused as he took another drink of his liquid, and Bess felt a tear well up in her eye and roll down her cheek.
“Now, Mrs. Brown, I know this has got to be difficult for you, but you have to work with me here, so we can get your husband the justice he deserves. Can you tell me what your husband did for a living?” he asked, and Bess shook her head.
“All I know is that he was a businessman of sorts. He would often travel, taking his products from town to town and bringing back the profit.” She once again swept her finger around the top of the cup, and the sheriff leaned in closer.
“What kind of products was he selling?” he asked with a tone of keen interest in his voice. Once again Bess shook her head.
“I don’t know. He told me that he sold a lot of things, but he also told me he didn’t want me to worry about it, that he was taking care of me and that was what mattered,” she said, feeling another tear run down her cheek. The sheriff looked at her intently, as though he was trying to determine whether she was lying. Evidently satisfied that she was not, he sat back up in his chair.
“Do you know if your husband had any enemies?” he asked. The question felt like a dagger had gone through her heart. She hesitated for a moment, fighting the lump that had formed in her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped as she lifted her finger to her lips. She took a few deep breaths and sat back in her seat.
“Jacob was a kind man. He was the kindest man that I have ever met – I often said that he would give you the shirt right off his back if you needed it, and I am certain he would have given it to you even if you didn’t. Sheriff, I don’t know what to tell you, I just want to know what happened to my husband.” She had tears running down both cheeks now, and she fought a sob that managed to escape her lips.
The sheriff sat for a moment longer, then he nodded to his two deputies, who both grabbed their hats and rose from the table. He, too, finished his tea then rose, put his hat back on his head and extended his hand out toward her.
“I can assure you, I am going to stay on this case until I know what happened. Don’t you worry, Ma’am, justice is always served.” He smiled at her, but she didn’t return it, so he gave her a curt nod and turned toward the door.
“We’ll see ourselves out,” he said over his shoulder, and she could hear the thud of their boots as they all descended the wooden stairs back down toward the door. A gust of cold air filled the hall and kitchen when the men exited her house, and it was the push Bess needed. She placed both her arms on the table in front of her and buried her face into them.
Uncontrollable sobs wracked her body.
The Note
The next week was the hardest week of Bess’s life. With the help of a few of her acquaintances from the orphanage, she managed to schedule a small funeral for her husband, inviting only those she knew would want to pay him their last respects. The preacher did a marvelous job of keeping the story behind his death a secret, and kept the focus on Jacob’s life rather than his death.
Bess did everything she could to keep the service going smoothly, but she found it difficult at times to maintain her poise. It was hard enough for her to see her husband in the casket, but it was even harder when the service concluded and she knew the time had come for him to be buried. She walked by the casket on foot as they traveled from the church to the cemetery, and she stood sobbing as the men put her husband into the ground. She had managed to keep her emotions under control for most of the service, but as acquaintances gave her hugs and their condolences, she found it nearly unbearable.
At long last, Bess found herself standing alone in the cemetery, looking down at the mound of dirt at her feet. She dropped to her knees for a moment, spreading the dirt out with her hands and trying to gain control of herself.
“What were you doing? How did you get wrapped up in something that cost you your life? Why didn’t you ever tell me anything?” she whispered as she patted the dust with both of her hands. There were still tears in her eyes, but a voice from behind her caused her to jump with fright, and she turned and looked over her shoulder.
A man stood behind her dressed in a dark suit, much like the sheriff had been wearing a few nights before. He had a wide brimmed hat on his head which he pulled down to just above his eyes, and his thick beard and mustache protected most of his features from her view.
“Mrs. Brown?” he asked, and she looked at him.
“What do you want?” she snapped, and he took a few steps forward. Squatting down next to the grave alongside her, he tipped his hat, though he did not remove it from his head.
“Let’s j
ust say that I knew your husband, and I wanted to offer you my condolences. It’s a real shame that it had to come to this, but I guess that’s what happens when you live this kind of life, ain’t it.” He smiled, but Bess only raised one of her eyebrows as she looked at him.
“What are you talking about? What kind of life?” she asked, feeling every part of her body start to tremble. He looked at her for a moment, as though he was uncertain if she was serious or not. At last, he looked down at the ground between his legs and reached his hand into the inside of his jacket.
“I don’t know how much you know, I don’t know how much you don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t care the difference. The Boss told me to give this to you – and to let you know that he’s serious about what he says.” He pulled out a folded slip of paper and handed it to Bess, who took it with quivering fingers.
“The Boss? Who is…” she began, but the strange man rose and adjusted his clothing.
“You have a nice day,” he said, then touched the tip of his hat and left.
Bess looked down at the note in her hand. Her dirty fingers had left smudges on the white paper, and she quickly brushed her hands off on her skirts. Rising, she flipped open the folded piece of paper. There were crisp letters sprawled across the inside, as though the person writing the words was incredibly angry when he wrote it. Her eyes scanned the paper, and her heart began to pound in her chest.
It read:
Madam,
I am certain Jacob now understands how serious I am, and it annoys me that I have to reach out to his wife to settle this business. However, I see now if something is to be done properly, I am going to have to do it myself.
Your husband owes me fifteen hundred dollars. As he is now dead and unable to pay himself, that means the responsibility falls to you. I am not a patient man, but I do know how to treat a lady well – so I will give you three weeks to come up with the money.
I advise you that it is in your best interest not to take this to the sheriff.
~Boss
Bess felt lightheaded and swooned, but she managed to catch herself before she fainted. She looked around the cemetery, scanning for anyone who may be watching her. She could see that the man who had delivered the note was gone, but she also knew that in her panic she wasn’t able to see or think clearly. As she realized she may be being watched at that very moment, more panic began to set in, and she quickly folded the note and shoved it into her pocket.
Just take a deep breath. I’m going to be ok, Bess thought to herself. She looked down at the soft dirt at her feet once more, feeling the thick lump forming in the back of her throat. Fresh tears began making their way down her cheeks, but she now angrily brushed them away, leaving dirty streaks on her face. Bess took a long, trembling breath in, then let it out slowly, trying to clear her mind as best as she could. She brushed her hands against themselves then her skirts once more, removing the last of the dust, then she turned and began walking slowly along the path that led to the gated entrance.
She jumped with fright when she passed a tree and saw a man leaning against it, but she relaxed when she realized he was with another woman who was leaving flowers at the side of another grave. She gave them a weak smile, though she knew it was from nerves more than anything, and she picked up her pace slightly.
I need to calm down. I can’t show them that I’m scared. If they’re watching me, I can’t let them know that they are getting to me. Jacob was scared. Bess stopped suddenly as the realization formed in her mind. The morning of the day he had passed, he was scared. She remembered it so clearly now.
Since the day they had met, Bess had always thought of Jacob as being fearless. It didn’t seem like anything could rattle him. But that morning – that morning he had clearly been scared of something. Whatever he was a part of, whoever these people were, they were bad enough to scare her husband – then he turned up dead that very night.
Had he received a note such as this? Did he know this Boss man personally? Had he been threatened with a time limit and an exorbitant amount of money?
She stood for a moment at the gate of the cemetery, her hands resting on the iron latch. The note had very clearly stated not to go to the sheriff, but if her husband had been threatened, perhaps if he had ignored the threat and gone to the sheriff himself, maybe he would still be alive.
There was little doubt in Bess’s mind. If these men had murdered her husband, then it was more than likely they wouldn’t have an issue murdering her as well. As long as she was in that house – alone – she was in danger. With a surge of resolution forming in her heart, Bess turned and walked up the brick path.
She didn’t care what the note said – she was going straight to the sheriff.
A Cry for Help
“And that’s all he said to you?” Sheriff Muldoon asked. He was seated behind his desk, leaned back in a casual manner. He glanced down at the note in his hands, then looked up at Bess, who stood across from him with her hands clasped against her chest.
She nodded.
“I couldn’t see much of his face with his beard and his hat, but he was very direct in his approach,” she explained, trying to give him as much information about the man as she could. With a sigh, the sheriff opened the drawer to his desk and pulled out some papers.
Sliding them across the table, he asked if any of the faces looked familiar to her. Bess leaned forward. Each of the sheets held a sketch of a face. She suddenly pointed to one and looked up at the sheriff as she did so.
“Yes! This is the man! Like I said, he had a hat on, but I feel sure that’s him.” Her voice was a mix of worry and relief, and the sheriff licked his lips. Without saying a word, he gathered up the papers and tapped them into a neat pile, then slid them back into the drawer of his desk.
“Do you know who he is?” Bess prompted. Sheriff Muldoon sat for a moment, then rubbed his face with his hands.
“That is Victor French. He’s a notorious member of the Southside Creek gang – which leads me to wonder. Tell me again what it was your husband did for a living?” He gave Bess a hard look, and she began to feel uncomfortable.
“He was a traveling businessman,” she answered timidly.
“Uh huh, well – I didn’t know your husband, but I am a professional, and I would have to say just putting the pieces together here, I imagine your husband wasn’t traveling as much as he said, nor did he sell anything.” Sheriff Muldoon folded the note and handed it back to her.
“Are you saying he – he was – he was part of a gang?” Bess asked, the horror clearly showing through her tone. The sheriff gave a single nod.
“Looks that way,” he said plainly, then added, “I wouldn’t recommend you get tangled up in this mess, Mrs. Brown. This is dangerous.”
“Well, certainly not! But what am I to do? I can’t stay in that house – I can’t stay anywhere! They know who I am and where to find me!” Bess cried out, and the sheriff looked grim.
“I wish I could keep you here, but you can’t live in a jail, and I have no idea how large this gang really is. Until we have this man they call the Boss behind bars, you are going to be in danger. My recommendation is that you leave, Mrs. Brown. Get as far away from here as you can. Don’t tell a single soul where you are going, just get out of here.” Bess once again had her hands clasped to her chest, and she nodded furiously, fighting that panicked feeling that swelled in her chest once more.
She glanced down at the note in her hand, then slipped it into her pocket. With a look of defeat written clearly on her face, she turned to go.
“Mrs. Brown?” Sheriff Muldoon stopped her. “If you see or hear anything, please come back here right away.”
Bess nodded, then left.
With shaking fingers, Bess grabbed the apple and placed it in her basket. She didn’t have much of an appetite these days, but she knew she had to eat something to keep her strength up. There was no food left in the house, forcing her to go to the general store on her way home. Though s
he was browsing through the fruit, her mind was on everything that had transpired in her life the past few days.
He said to get out of here as soon as possible, but I have nowhere to go. Jacob never spoke of any living relatives, and I don’t know if I have any left, either. Of course, I don’t know that I could bring this down on them anyway. Who knows? Maybe all of his family is part of a gang! Bess’ heart was still filled with grief, but part of the grief had been replaced with anger.
He had lied to her. Throughout the few short years she had known him and loved him, during the entire year of their marriage, everything she knew was based on a lie. She didn’t question that Jacob loved her – he not only said so often but he proved that he did, always bringing her trinkets and treats when he could. But, she couldn’t help but wonder, what else had he been lying about?
Bess felt that her trust was shattered, and she didn’t know how to even begin to heal. She didn’t know if she would ever heal. How could she recover from this?
“Excuse me, Ma’am!” an angry shopper said, and Bess apologized.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. My mind is a thousand miles away,” she tried to explain. She had inadvertently bumped into a woman who was carrying a basket of eggs, causing her to nearly drop them. With an embarrassed and shy smile, Bess backed away, acting as though there were something near the back of the store that she needed.