by Natalie Dean
The air was cold despite it being late spring, so Bess had a fire burning in the little fireplace in the kitchen. The sound of the crackling wood combined with the hiss of the steam when droplets found their way down the chimney and into the fireplace only added to the agitation Bess felt. The clock which stood against the opposite wall chimed, and as Bess counted off each note, she realized it was midnight.
But Jacob still was not home.
She had last seen her husband earlier that afternoon. That morning he had acted incredibly nervous and not at all like himself at breakfast, and when she had asked him what was wrong, he had insisted that he was fine and merely anticipating the day that lay ahead. It was strange for him to even use such language when he spoke to her, which only added to her curiosity.
But, Bess had learned not to ask too many questions. When she had met Jacob three years before, for her it had been love at first sight. Though at the time she was merely seventeen years old and he was already in his twenties, she knew that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
Though she was living in an orphanage, Bess had convinced Mrs. Grace, the head of the institution, to allow her to become a waitress at the little bed and breakfast across the street. It was a quaint place, perfect for those who were merely passing through, and more often than not Jacob found his way onto the guest list.
As a young girl growing up in a New York City orphanage, Bess never thought she would catch the eye of someone like Jacob, but after a year of persistently trying, he finally took notice of her. When he did, Bess felt on top of the world. She continued to work at the little bed and breakfast for another year, but as soon as she had turned eighteen, he proposed and the two of them were married.
Though she had been smitten with Jacob Brown since the moment she had first met him, she noticed that he never liked to share much information with her – or with anyone for that matter. He told her he was a traveling businessman, and that he could never stay in one city for too long, lest his products become commonplace and no one wants them any longer.
And what were these products he was selling? Bess didn’t know because he wouldn’t tell her.
It wasn’t long into their relationship before she realized many of the things she wanted to know about her husband he would laugh off and tell her not to worry about it. He insisted that it was his job to take care of her in any way that was necessary, and he promised her that she would never want for anything. In the past year of their marriage, he had remained true to his word.
As the rain continued to patter against the window pane, Bess thought about how many nights she had spent doing exactly what she was doing right now. Sitting in a cold kitchen with a cup of hot tea, not knowing where her husband was or if he would even come home that night. There were times he would be gone for days, and there were times he would return late at night, bruised and beaten, insisting he had been jumped by robbers in a dark ally.
Yet even when he came home with cuts on his knuckles and black rings around his eyes, Bess had learned to only ask if there was anything she could do to help him. She would fill a bowl with warm water, and she would soak his black eyes and tend to his wounds, all the while listening to how something went wrong in a business transaction he was trying to achieve, and how the client had beaten him for it.
Bess took her finger and swirled it around the top of her mug a few times, looking down into the dark liquid at the reflection of herself. Though she could only see herself dimly, she could see plain as day how tired she looked. The young woman staring back at her was not the carefree wife she thought she was going to be.
No, this was the face of a woman who had endured months of hardship in a short period of time, and the worry she felt was already beginning to carve wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Bess sighed as she picked up the cup with both of her hands and lifted the rim to her lips. The hot liquid hit the back of her throat and filled her with a warmth from the inside out, causing her to relax a little.
The flickering street lamp looked very small outside in the rain, but it managed to dimly light the ground below it. Bess rose to her feet when she saw three men gather beneath the pole and begin speaking with one another. They were all dressed in top hats and caped dusters, and Bess could see the water droplets gathering and spilling over each of their brims.
Her heart leapt to her throat when they pointed to her house and began making their way toward the gate. She hated it when people came to the house when Jacob wasn’t there, especially when it was at night. Rushing into the living room, Bess put her hand over her chest to quiet her pounding heart, but it only worked for a moment.
When a fist began pounding heavily at the door, she knew the men knew she was in there – and awake. Bess hesitated for a moment, wishing with all her might that Jacob would come home at that moment and tell those men to go away, but as she stood in the darkness, she once again heard the pounding of a heavy fist on the door. With her face as white as a sheet, Bess picked up the candelabra that sat on the desk and with trembling fingers she lit each of the candlesticks, then she made her way back through the small kitchen and down the narrow stairway leading to the door.
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.”
Chapter 2 – 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.
Chapter 3 – 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 just 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.