A Touch of Flame

by Jo Goodman

  What a peculiar man, she thought, and realized she was smiling as if she did not mind it all.

  Chapter Ten

  Hitchcock Springer appeared at the sheriff’s office at the appointed hour, carrying a covered breakfast tray from the Butterworth. Ellie Madison had fed him first and then sent him off with the tray. He was tempted to take a biscuit from under the green-and-white-checked napkin because he knew there was more than one and because they smelled so darn good. He resisted because even though the tray was meant for Jeremiah Salt, Hitch thought Ben might expect that there would be something for him.

  “Sheriff?” Hitch bobbled the tray as he stepped inside. The office was empty. “Ben? You around?”

  The answer came from the back. “In here. You have breakfast?”

  “I do. Yes, sir.”

  “Well, bring it on through. Mr. Salt has a powerful growl in his middle regions.” Ben sat up on the cot where he had spent the night after leaving Ridley. He stretched until bones cracked, arched his spine, massaged his neck, and sucked in the aroma of hot coffee, bacon, and biscuits and gravy. “Give me a minute,” he told Hitch when the young man was standing outside his open cell door. He swiveled his head in the direction of the man pacing in the adjoining cage. “You smell that, Mr. Salt? That’s for you. You can’t say we don’t feed you right here. That’s Mrs. Vandergrift’s sausage gravy and biscuits.”

  “I smell it all just fine, but I’d be obliged if you’d release me so I could get on home, have my breakfast there, and start my work. Lily makes some fine biscuits and gravy herself.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Ben picked up his hat, reshaped the brim, and put it on. “But Lily’s not feeling well. I’m going to keep you here and let her rest.”

  Jeremiah Salt stopped pacing. “What do you mean, my Lily’s not well? What’s wrong with her?”

  Ben stared at Jeremiah, wondering if he could believe his ignorance or whether it was for show. “You and I, we’ll have a discussion later today about that. In the meantime, eat your breakfast and don’t cause Hitch here any problems. He’ll see that you get a basin of water and a cloth so you can wash up.” He turned to Hitch, who was looking a shade paler than usual upon realizing he was going to be left alone to manage things. “Sorry, Deputy, but you’re going to have to empty the slop bucket. Don’t let him throw it at you.”

  Hitch swallowed hard. “No, sir.”

  “It’ll be okay. He wants to go home so there’s no percentage for him in assaulting an officer of the law. If you’re finding it difficult to get his cooperation, threaten him with your mother. I’m fairly sure he’s afraid of her.” Ben stepped out of the cell and stood by while Hitch pushed the tray through the serving slot and Jeremiah took it away. “I’ll be back around three. Keep a log of who comes and goes, write down their complaints. We’ll decide what to do about them later. I’ll be surprised if you have more than two visitors, three if your mother drops by.”

  “She’ll be here,” Hitch said glumly.

  Ben clapped him on the shoulder. “Give her my best.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Once home, Ben set out clean clothes, shaved, washed his hair, and scrubbed away the stink of a night in jail. He had it on good authority, namely Maxwell Wayne’s, who’d been sweeping up in front of his bakery when Ben went by, that today was going to be sunny and temperate. “I feel it in my bones, Ben,” he’d said, and Ben didn’t know anyone who didn’t trust Mr. Wayne’s bones to get it right.

  On the strength of that prediction, Ben wore his brown leather vest with the star but left his jacket hanging by the door. He took down his gun belt from another peg and fastened it as he left the house for Ridley’s. When Doc lived next door, they never stood on ceremony, and Ben was free to come and go as he pleased. Now the surgery door would be locked—or it had better be—and Ben concluded it would be best if he went to the front.

  He presented himself at the door at the appointed hour, and realized that Ridley must have been watching for him because the door opened while he was raising his fist to knock.

  “Good mornin’,” he said, and immediately saw that it wasn’t likely to be, not with Dr. E. Ridley Woodhouse looking as if she were preparing to face the Sioux at the Little Big Horn and knew the outcome as reliably as Maxwell Wayne knew the weather. Her features were set as stonily as they had been when she alighted from the train. There were tiny lines around her mouth because she was concealing all its splendor with tightly set lips. Her spectacles rested high on the bridge of her nose so that she regarded him through them, not over the top. There was no humor in that gaze, only solemn determination. It was a little frightening.

  Last night when she had arrived at the surgery door, her hair had been bound loosely with a ribbon and mussed from sleep, and when she had held up the lamp, he saw there were pillow wrinkles on the right side of her face and her spectacles were slightly askew.

  Nothing was askew now. She was wearing a white blouse buttoned to her neck with a black tie to close the collar. The sleeves puffed at the shoulders and were tight from elbow to wrist. A black skirt cinched her waist and fell in a stiff circle around her ankles. She was still wearing the fashionably pointed shoes but no hat. He remembered he had told her to dress the part.

  This was his fault.

  “You can leave your bag here,” he said, pointing to where she was clutching it in front of her.

  She shook her head. “I may have need of it, and I want to see Lily this morning.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’d like to check on Mr. Hotchkiss as well.”

  “Sure. You missed your chance when he dropped off that split wood for you this morning.”

  “How do you know? I didn’t hear him.”

  “Because I ran into him and he told me.”

  Ridley stepped onto the porch and closed the door. “It was good of him to remember.”

  “I know. I had my doubts. Shall we?” Ben gestured to the sidewalk. “I thought we’d have breakfast at the Butterworth before we begin the grand tour.”

  At the mention of breakfast, Ridley’s stomach rumbled.

  “That’s what I thought,” Ben said. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  • • •

  The Butterworth’s dining room was deserted except for a traveling notions salesman and a pair of elderly women visitors who fussed with each other so often that Ben decided they must be family.

  Ridley placed her bag on the floor at her feet and unfolded her napkin. “Coffee cannot arrive soon enough,” she said as Ben joined her.

  “Here it comes,” he said, pointing to the kitchen door as it opened. He sighed. “. . . aaaand my mother.” He sat back to give Ellie plenty of room to pour. “Good morning, Ma.”

  She swooped down like a bird of prey but merely pecked him on the cheek. “Mornin’ yourself.” She nodded at Ridley. “Dr. Woodhouse. Did you have yourself a restful first night?”

  “I did, yes. Thank you for asking.”

  “George Hotchkiss was here at first light clearing his head with pots of coffee. He had a story, too. Something about Holden Anderson breaking his nose and an angel of mercy setting it right. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “Mm, no.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You, Sheriff?”

  “First I’m hearing about it.”

  “Have it your way. Steak and eggs do for you both? Biscuits?” When they nodded in unison, Ellie slipped away.

  “Does she know everything?” asked Ridley when she was gone.

  “Sooner or later. Mostly sooner. I’m resigned.”

  Ridley poured cream into her coffee, gave it a quick stir, and drank. “Perfect,” she said, closing her eyes as the hot liquid slid over her tongue and down her throat.

  Watching her, Ben
grinned.

  “What?” she asked, opening her eyes and catching him out.

  He shrugged. “Just thinking I should’ve met you at the door with a cup of coffee in hand.”

  “It couldn’t have hurt.”

  They were served soon after that and ate mostly in silence. Ben reviewed what he thought would be a good agenda but left to her to prioritize it. He was not surprised that Lily Salt was their first order of business.

  Hannah answered the door. She was holding Lizzie in her arms, and unlike her older brother, she let them enter without an interrogation. “Clay’s in school this morning. Ma made him go. She’s in the kitchen and I’m helping her.” She led them down the narrow hallway. Hamilton was sitting at the table building a card pyramid. The cards collapsed when Hannah bumped the table. Ham squealed as though wounded and swept the cards onto the floor.

  Lily turned away from the stove to greet them with an apologetic smile. The smile, slim as it was, only served to emphasize her battered face. She had a long wooden spoon in her hand. A lump of porridge on the bottom side of the spoon fell back into the pot. “We are moving slowly this morning. The children haven’t yet had breakfast.”

  Ben crossed the kitchen to Lily’s side and took the spoon from her hand. He gently pushed Lily toward a chair at the table and told her to sit. Ridley removed Lizzie from Hannah’s arms and Ben gave the little girl the spoon. Hannah stepped on the stool in front of the stove and stirred while Ben brought out bowls and spoons and directed Ham to pick up the cards. In short order, the chaos was diminished by Ben’s choreography.

  Ridley sat beside Lily. She kept Lizzie in her lap although the little girl held out her hands to her mother. “She’ll be fine here,” said Ridley, responding to Lily’s anxious look. “Tell me about your shoulder.”

  Lily gave it a tentative roll and rubbed it. “It’s much better. I don’t know why I couldn’t put it in place myself.”

  “Then you’ve done it before.”

  “Yes.”

  “Probably too many times. Experience doesn’t make it easier.” She played pat-a-cake with Lizzie. “Your eye is improved.”

  “The compress helped.”

  “I’m going to leave you with a tea to infuse into the water. Use it when you prepare the next compress. It will reduce the swelling but not the coloration. It would be best to apply it once an hour but at least once every two hours. Hannah?”

  The girl turned around on her stool. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Did you hear me tell your mother what she’s supposed to do?”

  “I did.”

  “Then you’ll make sure she does it?”

  “I will.”

  “Thank you, Hannah.”

  Ben dropped to his haunches and helped Ham collect the last of the cards. He was aware of Ridley speaking more softly now. He distracted Ham to keep him from being too interested in the conversation.

  “What about the other?” Ridley asked gently, her eyes lowering to Lily’s abdomen.

  “Cramping off and on last night.” Lily’s voice fell to a whisper. “Bloody sheets this morning. I think it’s gone.”

  “I should examine you to be sure. We can go upstairs.”

  “Not now. Later, when the children are eating.”

  Ridley nodded. “Ben, will you put a kettle on?”

  He rose, hefting Ham under one arm, and carried the boy around while he filled the kettle and set it on the stove. “Tea or coffee?” he asked.

  “Neither. Just the hot water for now.”

  He didn’t ask and she didn’t explain. Once the children were all seated at the table with hot porridge in front of them, Ridley removed the kettle, took her bag, and followed Lily upstairs.

  “Where’s Ma going?” Ham asked.

  Ben didn’t answer. He diverted Ham with another card trick and was successful until Hannah asked if their father was coming home today.

  “Would it be a good thing if he did?” asked Ben, idly shuffling the cards.

  “Clay should be here when Pa comes home.”

  Which was not exactly an answer to his question, but he thought he understood Hannah’s reasoning. Clay had established himself as their protector, and even if he could not stand between Lily and Jeremiah, he knew what to do. “Does your pa have any liquor around, maybe a bottle hidden here or there?”

  Ham pointed a pudgy finger to the bottom of the china closet.

  “In there?” Ben got up, opened the bottom cupboard, and found an unopened bottle of whiskey at the back alongside a third of a bottle of tequila. “Anywhere else?”

  “Out back under the porch.”

  Ben located another bottle of whiskey there, this one half full. He carried it back in and lined it on the table with the others. He cocked an eyebrow at the children.

  Hannah raised her spoon to indicate the upper floor. “At the back of Ma’s wardrobe.”

  Ben shook his head. He wondered that Jeremiah bothered to hide a single bottle when nothing about it was a secret. “Will you be all right while I go and get it?” Hannah gave Lizzie and Ham stern looks that would have put Ben back in his chair if it had been directed at him.

  “We’ll be fine,” she said. “You should know there are two.”

  Ben waited until he was on the stairs before he swore, and he did that under his breath. From the moment he asked the children about the liquor, he knew he was not going to hide what he’d done from their father. Jeremiah needed to know that he was responsible for finding and taking the bottles, not the children. Certainly not Lily. Ben figured he’d have to watch his back for a while, but at least Lily would not be an immediate target.

  The door to Lily’s bedroom was not quite closed. He knocked lightly but under that small pressure the door began to swing open. He grabbed the knob and pulled it back. “It’s Ben. May I come in?”

  “Just a moment.”

  As he’d expected, it was Ridley who replied. He waited, heard some rustling, a shifting of sheets and blankets, and finally a thud that sounded like something hitting the floor. He was prepared to ask if his help was needed when he got the invitation to enter.

  Lily was lying on her back, a fresh compress across her injured eye. Although she was covered to her neck by a fresh sheet, he could see that pillows supported her hips so that they were raised higher than her head. Beside the bed was the thing that Ben had heard drop: a pail filled to the rim with bloody rags. His gaze did not linger, but he was grateful nonetheless when Ridley dropped an only slightly soiled pillowcase on top.

  “She’s been asking about her husband,” said Ridley before Ben could speak. She gestured to him to come to the bedside. “I didn’t know what to tell her.”

  “Are you going to swear out a complaint?” he asked Lily.

  “You know I can’t do that, Ben.”

  “Lily.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said on a thread of sound. “I understand what you want me to do. The children need their father. I need him. I can’t raise them alone.”

  “All right, then I’m letting him go in the morning. I can’t keep him past that no matter how it aggrieves me. If you change your mind, send Clay around to the office.”

  “I won’t.”

  “But if you do . . .”

  “I won’t.”

  Ben looked to Ridley. There was no help from that corner. She offered a small shake of her head in response. “I’m taking the liquor, Lily. That’s why I’m here. I understand there are two bottles at the back of your wardrobe.” He thought she might protest, but she said nothing. He opened the wardrobe and bent down, moving aside some blankets and linens. The children had not been wrong. “Just so you know, Jeremiah is going to hear that I found his bottles without your help, which is God’s own truth.”

  “He won’t believe you.”

  “He will.”
r />   “Did you find the one under the porch?”

  “Yes. And the flask under Lizzie’s crib?”

  “Missed it.”

  “Leave it. He’s more likely to credit you with doing it alone if you leave something behind.”

  Ridley said, “She’s likely right. And you said he has the forge. He probably has bottles hidden there.”

  Ben accepted defeat on this front as well. A muscle worked in his cheek as he set his jaw.

  Ridley carried the basin of pink-tinged water to the window and tossed it into the backyard. She lifted the pail of soiled scraps of linen, removed her bag from the nightstand, and then indicated that Ben should take the empty kettle. “There is one other thing. Lily needs assistance. She must remain in bed. I have been very clear about the dangers if she gets up and tries to move around. Hannah cannot possibly manage the little ones by herself, and Clay is hardly any more suitable. I want to hire Mary Cherry to look after Lily and the children. Lily is not in full agreement, but she is my patient, I am her physician, and I rule.”

  Startled, Ben’s head reared back a fraction. “You rule?”

  “Overrule, then, if you prefer.”

  “You’ve been in town less than forty-eight hours.”

  “I know,” she said, tilting her head in Lily’s direction and giving her a conspiratorial wink. “It astonishes, doesn’t it?”

  “I saw that,” said Ben, following Ridley out of the room. “You winked at her. What does that mean? I never understand what it means when women do that.” He looked back at Lily plaintively before he stepped into the hallway and closed the door.

  Ridley halted, turned, and looked at him. “She was smiling, wasn’t she? Just there at the end?”

  He nodded. “Yes, because you made me the butt of your joke.”

  “I know, and I wish I could be sorry for it, but I can’t, and you played your part so well, which is really the point of the wink.” She handed him the pail to carry downstairs to the washtub. “Thank you. Now, I will wait with the children while you engage Mrs. Cherry’s services and bring her around. I think she will be more amenable if you speak to her.”