The Heaviest Rock (An Ozark Mountain Series Book 3)

by Alan Black

  Cummings looked surprised at the interruption, but he nodded. “I guess I did say that… um… but, we have only heard about Clayton Grissom’s murder. We need documented proof.”

  Grace said, “But you know he was killed. I don’t understand.”

  Cummings smiled triumphantly. “Well, our banking regulations-”

  “Here,” LillieBeth pulled a rumpled wad of paper from deep in a pocket and handed it to Grace. “This is the death certificate the doctor in Galena gave us. The doctor gave it to Miss Harbowe and she gave it to me to give to you, but I forgot about it until just now.”

  Grace read the document. Tears welled up in her eyes. She knew Clayton was gone, but this seemed to make it all so official. She showed the paper to Cummings and patted LillieBeth on the arm. She mouthed the words ‘thank you’. She did not trust herself to speak without starting to bawl like an idiot.

  Cummings harrumphed and cleared his throat, reading the death certificate slowly.

  Grace was beginning to wonder if he had wanted or expected to keep Clayton’s money for himself. It surely wasn’t enough money to tempt such a well-respected man into stealing from widows.

  LillieBeth said, “Well, sir? What other fences are you planning on building in front of Mrs. Grissom to keep her from getting what is rightfully hers?” Her voice was cold and had lost its awe of the man, his position, his manner, and his standing.

  Grace said, “LillieBeth, that’s no way to talk to an adult.” She was not surprised LillieBeth thought Cummings was deliberately dragging his feet. After all, she had just been thinking the same thing.

  LillieBeth said, “Forgive my bluntness, Mr. Cummings.” She did not seem the least bit apologetic despite her words.

  Grace could see the fire-driven anger in her words. This young girl was taking her duties as Grace’s chaperone and protector seriously. She would have smiled at LillieBeth, but she was feeling angry at Mr. Cummings herself.

  Cummings cleared his throat as if in acceptance of the inevitable. “Think nothing of it,” He said and handed the death certificate back to Grace. “That’s all I need. Would you like to do an accounting on the deposits or close the account?”

  “How much is there?” Grace asked.

  Cummings pulled a ledger from a desk drawer and flipped the book open. Grace noticed there was a bookmark on the page with Clayton’s name at the top. She was sure Mr. Cummings had been checking his figures before she came in.

  Cummings spun the ledger around and pointed at the number at the bottom of a column. “Sheriff Grissom managed to put away two hundred and twenty-five dollars, even.”

  Grace was shocked. She had no idea they had so much cash available. Handling the money had been Clayton’s responsibility. Everything she earned from blacksmithing had gone into his hands. She said, “Can we put my name on the account and then let me have twenty-five dollars?”

  Cummings nodded, but he did not seem as jolly as he had been earlier. He stamped this, noted that, initialed there and signed here. He pulled a small metal box from a bottom drawer and counted out twenty-five dollars. He wrote a receipt, putting Grace’s name at the top and handed it to her.

  She put the money deep in her pocket. She had always felt like she was rich, but having actual cash was unusual. Having someone else handle money predated her marriage to Clayton, as previously her father had taken care of all money matters. She had earned plenty of money over the years, but this was the first time she had twenty-five dollars that she thought of as all her own.

  Mr. Cummings regained his sense of humor. “I think this may be a first for our bank, having a woman depositor without her husband on the account.”

  “What about Mrs. Samson?” She remembered his mentioning the brothel madam kept her accounts here.

  “Well, well, well. She shares her account with her husband and I am sure she only keeps a small amount of her earnings here. Mr. Samson is still on the account, although I will admit we haven’t seen him in a number of years.”

  “Thank you.” She reached into another deep pocket and pulled out Clayton’s sheriff’s badge. “I think this belongs to you.”

  Cummings nodded. “As the Mayor of Oasis, thank you and we certainly thank Clayton for his service.”

  “You should get a new sheriff real soon. LillieBeth and I already arrested Abe Braunawall for Clayton’s murder. We put him in your jail.”

  Cummings stared at Grace, at LillieBeth and then back to Grace. “You can’t arrest someone and put them in jail. Only the sheriff can do that.”

  “Why?” LillieBeth asked. “Abe helped Trance and Dangle murder Clayton Grissom and shoot my father. Jail is where he belongs and where the other Braunawalls should be.”

  Cummings said, “But you are women! Only a sheriff can arrest someone and only a man can be the sheriff.”

  “Why?” LillieBeth asked. “We managed to arrest him and get him to the jail. Why does it take a man?”

  Cummings replied, an edge of frustration in his voice, “Because it does, that’s why. Women just are not strong enough.”

  Grace flexed an arm. “Really? I’ve been doing blacksmithing since I was fifteen. I’m stronger than most men. I guarantee I could break Abe Braunawall in half bare handed. Do you want to arm wrestle?”

  Cummings said, “That is not-”

  “Mrs. Harbowe taught us in school about Jeanette Rankin of Montana,” LillieBeth interrupted. “She has been a member of the United States Congress for three years, even though everyone said that was a man’s job. Besides,” she pulled the revolver from her holster and slammed it on the desk with a resounding crash. “No one, except God and my parents can tell me not to do what I think is right.”

  Cummings stared at the cannon with wide eyes. “Yes. That is true. You ladies are… well, exceptional.”

  Grace shook her head. “No. We’re just women who have to do what needs to be done. We’d leave it to the men, but my man is dead and LillieBeth’s father is resting up having been shot by the same men who murdered my man. Who should we leave it to, your new sheriff?”

  Cummings said, “Still, the city ordinances say that only the sheriff has the right to put someone in jail.”

  Grace said, “Well, make me the sheriff.”

  “You can’t be the-”

  “You just said that I’m the first woman to have her own bank account,” Grace interrupted. “Today must be your day for firsts. Make me the sheriff.”

  Cummings thought for a moment, nodded his head in acceptance and tossed her the badge with finality. “Consider it done, you are now the sheriff. We can only pay you part time, for now, just to see how things work out and only twenty dollars a week.”

  Grace said, “Clayton had the job full time and you paid him a hundred a week.”

  Cummings nodded. “Yes, I would put a man on full time if he needed the job to take care of a family. I’ll pay you twenty-five a week and not a penny more. Let’s see how well you do and we can talk about paying more in a few months.”

  Grace nodded. “Deal.”

  Cummings laughed. “It sounds strange and no offence to Clayton’s memory, but welcome to our new Sheriff Grissom.”

  Grace said, “LillieBeth, what say we go check on our prisoner and then get something to eat. We can come back and call the county sheriff in Galena after that.”

  “Wait.” He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a second badge. He tossed it to LillieBeth. “Let’s just call this a volunteer deputy job, unpaid of course, but if you’re going around leaving bodies in my streets, at least let’s make it legal.”

  They were on the sidewalk before LillieBeth asked, “Was he giving me the grand hurrah about being a deputy?”

  Grace pinned the badge high on her shoulder above her ample chest. She pointed at the badge in LillieBeth’s hand. “He gave you that. It’s your badge. Put it on.”

  Grace felt strange. She wondered if this was how Clayton felt walking along with a badge of authority and power pinne
d on his clothes where everyone could see it. Clayton had often talked about how the badge was more a symbol of trust and service than of authority, but it did not feel that way.

  She pushed open the door to the sheriff’s office. The jail cell door was open. Abe was gone.

  MONDAY – LATE AFTERNOON

  Grace walked out of the sheriff’s office and stood in the street. She looked both ways and shrugged. Abe Braunawall was nowhere in sight. She had lost her first prisoner. It was certainly not a good start as a new sheriff.

  She glanced at the western sky. Another new storm was blowing in, following on the spate of slow, easy rains that had plagued the area overnight. The new batch of gathering clouds looked fat with rain, threatening a real gully washer. Lightning flashed as the thunderstorm headed their way; making lighter patches of dark against the darker dark of the thickening sky. Typical of Missouri’s afternoon spring storms, the bright sun was filtering its rays sideways through the prism of heavy wet clouds, throwing green shafts of light, stabbing at the ground.

  The White River was still swollen from the earlier spring storms rolling in one after another from the Oklahoma and Kansas plains. The rain poured down on the headwaters of the river and continued to pester the river as the storms and the water flowed along their parallel eastward course. Last night’s rains continued to soak the already water-drenched hillsides, not giving new rain anywhere to go but into the creeks, streams and the river.

  The best ferry spot across the White River was behind Samson’s Boarding House for Young Ladies at the far eastern edge of town and downriver from all of the other businesses. It was the original reason for the founding of the town. However, during this time of the year it was a hit or miss proposition whether the ferry would try to brave the floodwaters or not.

  The streets of Oasis were ankle deep in mud from the spate of recent rains, but the river was still within its banks. It was lapping at the top of the riverbank like an over full cup of water. It would not take more than a drop or two before the river would swamp the town… again. Floodwaters would not add more mud; they would just add a few inches to a few feet of water on top of the mud.

  The Powersite Dam at Forsythe, Missouri was promised as a flood control measure. It may have helped control the White River at Taneycomo Lake and on downstream, but it didn’t do anything to control the wild water this far up river. She snorted at the thought of the lake’s name. It was one of her pet peeves ever since they finished the dam and named the lake about seven years ago. It showed a definite lack of imagination. Naming a lake in Taney County Missouri as Taney-Co-Mo should have been an embarrassment to anyone with any sense of humor or of history. Besides, it wasn’t so much a lake as it was a fat wide spot in the river.

  The new man-made lake was starting to bring tourist money into the Ozarks, but no one in the hills ever held hope that tourism would be of any long term value for the area. Sure, Marvel Cave was a site to see, but its owners were going broke trying to make a living from giving tours of the cave. And the few cabins on Lake Taneycomo were barely holding on, making enough money during the catfish, bass and trout fishing seasons to last them through the winter.

  Grace watched LillieBeth staring up and down the street. She didn’t think the young woman noticed the incoming weather or the flood threatened river anymore than she would have noticed a light drizzle when hunting for supper.

  LillieBeth said, “I should have shot Abe Braunawall when I had the chance down at the stables.”

  Grace said, “Then we wouldn’t be any better than Trance and Dangle. We take ‘em alive and get ‘em to Galena to stand trial, if we can.” She tapped the badge on LillieBeth’s chest. “This is an obligation we have to accept. Clayton always said it was more than just a job to collect pay.”

  LillieBeth shook her head in disagreement. “I am not getting paid, but yes, Mrs. Grissom… Sheriff.” She glanced both ways again and added. “If we walk from one end of the street to the next, maybe we can see him.”

  “Maybe we’ll see one of those two men who were with him. You can walk on this side of the street and I’ll walk along the other side.”

  It did not take long before they covered the town from one end to the other. Grace glanced into each building and down every alley, but she did not see any sign of the men they were looking for. They met back in front of the sheriff’s office.

  Grace said, “I expect they high-tailed it as soon as they got him free.”

  LillieBeth said, “Let’s get our horses and go after them.”

  “We’ll do that, but let’s go to the restaurant first and eat.”

  “I could eat. Breakfast was good, but it was busy morning. I have never been in a restaurant. I have some money, but are they expensive?”

  “I’m buying since I have a new job today. I have money in the bank and in my pocket.”

  The restaurant was void of customers as it was well after lunch and well before the dinner crowd. The waitress directed them to seats in the back, well away from the windows and doors. Grace wondered if all unescorted women were seated in the rear of the restaurant.

  The waitress said, “Sweetie, we don’t usually like our customers to bring their guns in.”

  Grace glanced at Clayton’s old Colt revolver. The handle was hanging from a pocket in her dress. She looked at LillieBeth. The girl looked like an old tintype of Annie Oakley of Ohio when she was younger. LillieBeth was ready, armed and loaded for bear. She noticed the young woman had set the lever action rifle safely on the floor, but in easy reach. The breach was open and empty, the safety on.

  Grace tapped the badge on her dress. “I’m the new sheriff in town. My name is Grace Grissom.”

  “Really? I thought the badges were jokes or something.”

  Grace said, “No. And this is Deputy Hazkit.

  “Ain’t that something? Women lawmen… er… lawwomen?”

  Grace laughed. “I guess there really isn’t a word for us.”

  The waitress laughed. “Sweetie, I can tell you a few of the men here abouts will have names to call you, but I like it. What’ll you have?”

  LillieBeth was reading the menu in horror. “It is all so expensive, Mrs. Grissom.”

  “Try the hamburger, sweetie. Everybody loves them.”

  Grace said, “I’ve had them. They are good. That’s for me. Coffee, too.”

  LillieBeth said, “Okay. I will try it, but what is it?”

  The waitress said, “Our cook saw them at the St. Louis World’s Fair in 1904 and he’s been making them ever since. It is a ground beef patty on a bun with some other stuff on it for variety. Do you want a soda pop with that?”

  LillieBeth shook her head. “Those are too sweet for me. Can I just have a glass of water?”

  The waitress laughed. “Sure, sweetie, do you want that in a clean glass?”

  The shocked look on LillieBeth’s face made the waitress laugh harder.

  “Oh, sweetie, that joke was old when my grandfather was knee high to a blade of grass. I’ll get your meals right out.”

  Grace closed her eyes while she waited on their hamburgers. She wasn’t tired, but having her eyes closed helped her think. She didn’t know where to go or how to begin hunting down Abe. She would know exactly what to do with a broken wagon axle, a thrown horseshoe, or a twisted fireplace grate. She didn’t know how to hunt down men. She wondered if she’d gotten ahead of herself demanding to be made the sheriff. Any number of men in the area had experience in hunting and tracking men, but no women would have. She stopped and looked at LillieBeth, no women would know except the two women who had just done it to avenge Clayton’s murder: LillieBeth Hazkit and Susanne Harbowe. She shook her head no. Art and Clare would have her hide if she took their daughter on a manhunt.

  She ate her meal slowly, trying not to laugh at LillieBeth’s astonished expression at the first bite of her hamburger. The fried potatoes and onions were common and the beans with bacon on the side were nothing extraordinary, but the young
girl looked surprised at each taste. Grace ate with deliberate bites, while LillieBeth ate with gusto, stuffing food into her mouth with unladylike enthusiasm.

  The girl slowed only when she took a bite of biscuit and commented, “Mama’s biscuits are better.”

  Grace said, “I expect so. But here… spread some of this on it.” She pushed a small crock with a lid on it towards the young girl.”

  LillieBeth popped the lid off and sniffed at the contents. “What is it?”

  “It looks like apple butter.”

  LillieBeth laughed. “Now you are teasing me. You cannot get butter from an apple. There is no place to milk an apple. You cannot get butter without milk.”

  “Taste it.”

  LillieBeth spread some on a biscuit. After her first taste, she attacked the small crock with a spoon. “Oh, I have to learn how to milk an apple.”

  They were finished and waiting for the waitress to bring them change when the back door to the restaurant opened. Grace did not recognize the couple. The woman was fat and the man was big, but there did not appear to be an ounce of fat on him.

  A woman shouted from the kitchen. “You all know you ain’t welcome in here.”

  The fat woman shouted back. “We’re not staying, so don’t get all cross-grained.” The woman came and stood by their table.

  Grace said, “Yes?”

  The woman laughed. “Word travels fast, Sheriff Grissom. I thought someone was pulling my leg when they told me Cummings put on a woman sheriff.”

  LillieBeth said, “Sheriff Grissom, this is Mrs. Samson and her friend. She runs the… um… the Boarding House for Young Ladies. Mrs. Samson, this is Sheriff, Mrs. Grace Grissom.”

  Samson looked at LillieBeth and took a step back. She said, “Gad! It’s you.”

  LillieBeth nodded. “Yes, Ma’am, I have always been me.”

  Samson stuck her hand out to Grace. Grace took the woman’s hand in a firm, man-like grip, instead of a soft women’s limp fingered shake.

  Samson nodded. “Good grip. We’re all sorry about Clayton getting shot up. He was a good man.”