Carol Cox Page 12

  That burden of guilt wasn’t hers to carry. With all her heart, she wished she could have made more of a difference in young Clarence’s life, but the damage had been done before she’d ever appeared on the scene. The years of excessive pampering that instilled an inflated sense of self-importance in the boy weren’t so easily overcome.

  She jabbed a hairpin in with unnecessary vigor and winced when it grazed her scalp. If she ever had children of her own, she would see to it that they grew up to be civil, decent people who understood the value of honor and integrity. But that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.

  Her hands stilled for a moment. She already had another child in her life. And he was likely to be a part of her life for the foreseeable future. She pushed the last hairpin in and checked her appearance in the mirror once more before making her way downstairs.

  Levi could be an adorable child . . . when he wanted to be. She smiled, remembering the look on his face when he held up his “whopper” of a trout. At the same time, she was painfully aware that another side of his personality existed—the part that set the fire in the alley on her first day in Cedar Ridge.

  She shuddered at the memory of him dropping his pet frog on her chest, then diving after it—and at the recollection of bolting after him in her nightdress and wrapper. Admittedly, she hadn’t been at her best that morning, either. She must have looked like some wild-eyed banshee following in his wake.

  She went into the kitchen and put a kettle of water on to heat for her morning cup of tea. His father should have been keeping a closer watch on him, she told herself for the dozenth time. But although she wasn’t Levi’s governess, the two of them were destined to have an ongoing relationship for a number of years. Maybe she could exert a positive influence on the boy. It could be a perfect way to use the skills she had acquired as a governess.

  As she measured out the loose tea leaves, her mood brightened. What God had done for Joseph also blessed those around him. Maybe part of the reason He had guided her to this situation was to have her help mold Levi’s behavior. She poured the boiling water over the tea leaves, determined to begin right away. She could talk to Levi, get to know him better.

  The more she thought about it, the more her excitement grew. If she could draw the boy out, it would help her learn which facet of Levi’s personality reflected his true nature. And once she had that information, she would be better equipped to know how to proceed. With a little influence of the right sort, he could grow into a delightful young man, one other people would enjoy having around.

  Leaving her tea to steep, she donned her apron and went into the storeroom for the broom. As she walked past the shelf where the ornate music box stood, she paused for a moment to trail her finger along the delicate tracery of multicolored wood. Such a shame that Caleb insisted on keeping it hidden away. Someday she would try again to persuade him to let her play it. Maybe hearing its music pour forth would encourage him to set it out on display, where it could be enjoyed—and possibly purchased—by their customers.

  She carried the broom to the rear door of the mercantile, ready to begin her workday by sweeping the back stoop. She enjoyed the early morning chore, which gave her a chance to have a few quiet moments outdoors before the day’s busyness set in.

  She pulled open the back door, turning her face up to greet the morning sun. Her foot struck an object as she stepped out, and she caught hold of the doorframe to keep from falling. She looked down to see what she had tripped over and frowned. Why would anyone leave a bundle of clothes in back of the mercantile?

  On second glance, she realized the clothes were still occupied. A man dressed in a canvas duster lay crumpled at her feet. Neat black trousers extended past the hem of the duster, ending in a pair of feet encased in highly polished black shoes.

  Her mind whirled as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Why was someone lying on the back stoop? Maybe he was a traveler who had spent too much time in the nearby saloon and only managed to stagger to the stoop before passing out to sleep off the results of his bender. That notion was dispelled the moment she noticed the pool of blood that had accumulated beneath the man’s head.

  Melanie swayed and clutched at the doorframe with both hands. The broom clattered to the boards below, and a scream tore from her throat.

  The piercing scream stopped Caleb in his tracks. It was a woman’s voice—Melanie’s. And this was no startled shriek, like the one she’d let out when she met Freddie. This scream held a note of fear, of danger.

  “Wait here.” He tossed the curt order to Levi as he sprinted toward the store’s back entrance, a thousand thoughts whirling through his mind. Had Melanie fallen or injured herself somehow? Had someone broken in and was even now trying to rob the store?

  Late spring was the time for rattlesnakes to be awakening from their winter’s hibernation. Maybe she’d discovered one when she came out to sweep the back stoop. The possibility made him put on a burst of speed, wishing fervently that his view of the stoop wasn’t blocked by the wing of the building that jutted out into the alley.

  He rounded the corner at a dead run, skidding to a halt when he saw Melanie on the stoop with both hands pressed over her mouth, her wide eyes staring down at the motionless body of a man at her feet.

  Caleb’s eyes bulged at the sight. He tore his focus away from the man’s body and looked back up at Melanie. “Who is he?”

  She shook her head and lowered her hands, like one in a daze. Caleb noticed her fingers were trembling. “I don’t know,” she said. “I came out to sweep and found him . . . like that.”

  Caleb stepped forward. “Is he dead?”

  Her head dipped in a tiny nod. “I’m pretty sure he is. Look.” She pointed with a shaking finger, and Caleb saw the puddle of blood.

  His bewilderment grew. “Did he fall?” He cast a glance upward toward the store’s roof. “Did something drop on him?” Try as he might, he couldn’t fathom what might have happened. His eyes took in the scene before him, but his mind refused to make sense of it. The whole situation seemed absurd—dead men didn’t just show up on a person’s doorstep.

  He knelt beside the stranger, ready to turn him over so he could get a better look at his face. Even before he took hold of the shoulders, he felt sure Melanie was right. That gray pallor didn’t belong to the living. His instinct was confirmed when he rolled the body stiffly to one side and got a glimpse of the back of the man’s head.

  Caleb retched and swallowed hard to keep his breakfast from coming back up. That dent in the man’s skull hadn’t been made by any mere fall. He pulled his hands away, and the body rolled back into place of its own accord.

  Feet pounded along the alley, and Micah Rawlins, owner of the livery stable, dashed up, panting. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I was feeding the horses and I heard someone scream.”

  Caleb got to his feet, still staring at the body of the stranger. Micah followed his gaze, and Caleb heard his sudden intake of breath.

  Rawlins pursed his lips and let out a low whistle. “You want me to go fetch Doc?”

  Caleb shook his head. “He’s beyond any help a doctor can give him.”

  Micah snorted. “Probably just as well. I spent a little time in the Silver Moon last night, and Doc came in while I was there. He was already pretty well in his cups and didn’t look like he planned on slowing down anytime soon.”

  Caleb’s gaze returned to the massive wound on the back of the stranger’s head, and he swallowed again. “If you want to go get someone, better make it the marshal.”

  Melanie stood pressed against the back wall of the mercantile, watching Marshal Hooper finish his examination of the dead man. The initial shock of discovery had begun to wear off, and her mind was beginning to function more clearly again.

  The burly lawman pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and motioned for Caleb to cover the body with a tarp fetched from the store. Keeping his eyes fixed on the corpse, he asked, “Do you know who he is?” />
  Caleb shook his head. “I have no idea. There were no identifying papers in his pockets.”

  Melanie didn’t miss the quick glance his comment earned from the lawman.

  “You went through his pockets?”

  A dull flush colored Caleb’s face. “I checked them while I was waiting for you. I thought I might find a wallet or some other identification.”

  The marshal grunted. “As stiff as he is, it looks to me like he’s been dead awhile. This must have happened sometime during the night.”

  He turned to face Caleb, fixing him with a keen stare as he said, “You’re sure you don’t know him?”

  “I’ve never seen him before.” Caleb tucked his hands into his pockets. “It seems that he intended to come to the store, but why? And why the back door?”

  The marshal flicked a quick glance at Melanie, and she felt heat rise up her neck to stain her cheeks. Pushing away from the wall, she faced the marshal directly. “I assure you, I’ve never seen this man, either. I have no idea why he was lurking around here at night.”

  Marshal Hooper held her gaze for a long moment, then gave a brief nod as if satisfied. When he turned away, Melanie felt an unaccountable sense of relief. She turned her attention back to the dead man.

  Death wasn’t completely unfamiliar to her. She had handled the funeral arrangements for both of her grandparents, but she had never been associated with a violent death before. She supposed that in cases like this, the lawman in charge had to look at everyone in proximity to the death with some degree of suspicion, but she’d never imagined how uncomfortable that would be for the parties involved.

  Much as she wanted to look away, her eyes kept returning to the spot where the poor man’s body lay. Thankfully, the tarp now covered the wound on his head. It didn’t cover the pool of blood, though. It would have to be scrubbed away soon, before it left an indelible stain. The thought of that job falling to her made her stomach roil, and she pressed her hand against her waist to quell the sick feeling.

  Her beautiful morning had turned into a nightmare. Had that man really been murdered? Right on her doorstep?

  Her bedroom window on the second floor overlooked the back stoop. Why hadn’t she heard anything?

  And what if she had? Her mind continued its relentless questioning. Could she have done anything to prevent the murder, or would the attacker have turned on her, as well, leaving two bodies for Caleb and Levi to discover when they came to the store?

  Her body began to tremble, and her knees threatened to give way. A long, shuddering sigh escaped her lips, and she leaned back against the wall for support.

  Caleb looked at her, his face a mask of concern. He turned to the marshal. “Is there any reason the body can’t be moved now?”

  The marshal shook his head. “No, I think I’ve seen all I need to.”

  Caleb stepped over to Melanie and spoke in a low tone. “Why don’t you let the undertaker know he’s needed? You should be able to find him at the barbershop.”

  Melanie nodded and pulled herself erect. Still unsteady on her feet, she tottered around the corner of the mercantile toward Lincoln Street, appreciating Caleb’s consideration in providing her with a way to make a graceful exit.

  Her steps quickened as she left the scene of death behind her. By the time she reached the town’s main street, she was nearly running. Looking to make sure the way was clear, she crossed the road quickly, relieved when she saw two men standing in front of the barbershop. She hurried over to them, focusing her attention on the one dressed all in black.

  “Could you come with me, please? Your services are needed at the mercantile.”

  The one she addressed tilted his head, and a flicker of interest lit his eyes. “Dear lady, I would be happy to assist you, but what kind of service would you like me to provide?”

  Melanie resisted the urge to shake the man by his starched collar and tried to keep her voice level. “A man has died at the mercantile. Could you please come?”

  A smile flitted across his face. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake. Mr. Bingham here is the one you’re looking for.”

  Melanie looked his companion up and down. In shirtsleeves and a bow tie, the man’s round cheeks and cheery expression seemed far removed from what she had expected. She stared for a long moment. “You’re the undertaker?”

  A merry smile lit his face. “Yes, ma’am. And the barber.” He cupped one hand around his mouth and added, “And a decent substitute for a dentist, if you happen to need a tooth pulled when Doc has been bending his elbow a bit too often down at the Silver Moon.” He doffed his bowler hat and bowed. “Andrew Bingham, at your service.”

  His face took on a solemn expression better suited to his second profession. “You say someone has died at the mercantile?” The somber look changed to one of alarm. “You wouldn’t be speaking of Caleb Nelson, would you?”

  “No, I don’t know who it is. He’s a stranger to us both. Someone seems to have . . . killed him . . . during the night.” Her voice choked, and she pressed her hand to her throat.

  Both men gaped at her. Andrew Bingham nodded and started for the barbershop. “Let me get my jacket, and I’ll be right over.” He stopped in the doorway and turned back to Melanie. “You don’t need to accompany me if you’d rather stay away.”

  Melanie nodded her thanks, suddenly feeling at loose ends. She had done all she could for Caleb and the marshal, and the poor stranger was beyond any human aid. There was nothing left for her to do, except go back to the mercantile to pick up her morning routine where it had been interrupted and get ready to open the store for business.

  But she didn’t particularly want to go back at the moment. And she wasn’t sure she had the stamina to do so, even if she did. Her legs began to tremble again, and she swayed.

  The black-clad man beside her cupped her elbow with his hand and steered her along the boardwalk. “Would you care to sit on this bench?” He indicated one of a pair of benches in front of the barbershop.

  Melanie let him escort her to the seat without protest. His offer hadn’t come a moment too soon. She didn’t think her legs could hold her up one minute longer. “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” Her dapper escort waited until she sank onto the bench and seated himself at the other end. When he tilted his angular face toward hers, she could see that his eyes were so dark they appeared as black as his clothing. He assumed a kindly expression and regarded her with a look of keen interest. “We haven’t been introduced yet. My name is Benton Woodbridge, but people around here call me the Professor.”

  Melanie accepted the hand he extended. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Melanie Ross.”

  The Professor smiled. “I thought as much. I have heard of your arrival, of course. It doesn’t take much time for news to make its way around Cedar Ridge. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance. Your coming has added a spot of beauty to our little community.”

  Melanie drew a long breath, feeling the first glimmer of normalcy she’d experienced since walking onto the back stoop and discovering the murdered man.

  The Professor went on without waiting for a response, seeming content to carry on the conversation alone. Melanie was more than willing to let him, relishing the calming effect created by his soothing stream of words.

  After a while he paused, then said, “It’s my understanding that you are a relative of George Ross.”

  Melanie nodded, relieved to find the energy to speak again. “He was my cousin. A much older cousin,” she added with a smile, “but he was the only family I had left.”

  The Professor’s lips curved in a gentle smile. “I met George the day he and Alvin Nelson rode into Cedar Ridge and bought the mercantile. I always enjoyed visiting with him. He was a fine man, a decent man—as was Alvin.” He kept his eyes focused on her as he spoke, as if watching to make sure she wasn’t about to succumb to an attack of the vapors. “I was very sorry when they passed on. They have been sorely mi
ssed. I’m glad Caleb was here to take over and keep things going in the store, carrying on their legacy, you might say. He’s a good man.”

  Melanie blinked at the change of subject, and then she nodded. “Yes.” She thought again of the concern she’d seen in Caleb’s eyes when she’d sagged against the wall, and the opportunity he’d given her to escape the grisly scene. “Yes, he is.”

  At the reminder of the stranger’s demise, she shot to her feet and pressed her fingers to her lips. “What are we going to do? About a funeral, I mean?”

  When the Professor only tilted his head and looked at her with a puzzled expression, she explained, “We don’t know anything about him—his name or where he came from. How are we supposed to send word to his family? Who is responsible for making arrangements?”

  The Professor stood beside her with half-closed eyes and pursed his lips, as though calculating something in his head. Finally he nodded, seeming pleased. “The timing is good, if anything like that can be said about such a tragic situation. Today is Monday, and the circuit rider is due to arrive this weekend.” Seeing the blank look Melanie gave him, he went on. “Pastor Dunstan has the responsibility for preaching to a number of communities in this part of the territory. He rides from one town to the next—making a circuit, you see—and stops in Cedar Ridge once a month or so.”

  “Oh.” Melanie pondered this new concept. “But surely we can’t wait that long before we bury this man.”

  The Professor made a clucking sound with his tongue and reached out to pat her hand. “I know this must seem strange to you. Andrew will see to the burial—probably tomorrow. Pastor Dunstan won’t be able to officiate, of course, but I’m sure he’ll be willing to say a few words at the graveside after the service on Sunday.”