Carol Cox Page 15

  He rubbed the tight muscles at the back of his neck. If the truth be told, he owed her an apology. Maybe a thoughtful gesture extended as an olive branch would show his goodwill and help to make amends. Going into the kitchen, he put the water on to brew a pot of tea. While he waited, he took out the ham sandwich he’d brought for his own lunch and arranged it on a tray, then carried the peace offering upstairs. He stopped at the top step, surprised to find Melanie kneeling beside an open trunk under the window, pressing an armful of fabric to her face.

  “Oh, you’re up.”

  Melanie turned around at the sound of his voice. When she lowered her hands, Caleb saw she was holding a man’s woolen coat.

  She followed his gaze and gave an embarrassed laugh. “It belonged to my cousin George. I was just remembering the way he always smelled of pipe tobacco and licorice. There’s still a trace of it on his coat.” She folded the garment and set it aside atop a stack of clothing already piled next to the trunk.

  Caleb glanced down at the tray in his hands. “I thought you might be hungry.”

  A soft smile brightened her face. “How thoughtful. Would you mind setting it over there?” She indicated a small table nearby. “I’ll be ready to take a break in a moment. I haven’t had a chance to go through George’s things, and I suddenly felt the need to reconnect with him a bit, so I thought I’d make the most of this opportunity. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Caleb set the tray down and turned back to her. “No, I don’t mind at all. I understand what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

  “Your uncle Alvin?”

  Caleb cleared his throat and made himself answer truthfully. “Yes . . . him too.”

  A frown appeared between her brows, replaced by a look of awareness. “Your wife?”

  Caleb nodded. He walked back to the head of the stairs and sat down on the top step. “Her name was Corinna, and we’d been married for four years. Levi was three at the time, and we were so excited about the new baby that was due.”

  He swallowed past a sudden obstruction in his throat. Other than Uncle Alvin, he hadn’t spoken to anyone about Corinna since he’d arrived in Arizona. “But there were complications. The baby—our little girl—only lived a few minutes, and Corinna died within the hour.”

  He glanced at Melanie, surprised and oddly touched when he saw tears brimming in her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “That must have been terribly difficult for you.”

  “It was.” Caleb took a deep breath. “If it wasn’t for the Lord and Levi, I don’t think I could have kept on going. My mother took care of him while I worked the farm, but then she died about a year ago, and things got even harder. When Uncle Alvin wrote and asked me to come out here and help him, it seemed like an answer to prayer. I sold our farm in Missouri, and Levi and I headed west.”

  Melanie looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. “That’s why this store is so important to you.”

  “It’s our future,” he said simply. He planted his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “And I guess I’d better get back to tending it.”

  Melanie looked up at him. “Do you need me to come down and help with anything? I can finish sorting through the things in this trunk another time.”

  Caleb smiled his thanks. “That’s all right. Take your time. I can manage for a while.” He decided not to mention how much he could have used her help during his busy morning. They had reached a truce of sorts. There was no point in stirring up more animosity. Leaving Melanie to her rummaging, he went back downstairs and set up Levi’s lunch, then fixed some cheese and crackers for himself. He was just clearing away the remains of their meal when the bell jingled, and the door swung open to admit Marshal Hooper.

  “Good afternoon.” Dusting the cracker crumbs off his hands, Caleb stepped forward to greet the lawman. “What can I help you with today?”

  The marshal closed the door behind him and stepped farther inside the store. “I’m not looking to buy anything today, Caleb. I’m here on official business.” He leaned against the counter and hooked his thumb under his gun belt. “I’m trying to learn more about that fellow who got his head bashed in on your porch.”

  Caleb flinched at the reminder of the grisly discovery. He shook his head and rested both arms on the counter. “I don’t know that I can help you. As I told you then, I never saw him before.”

  “You can’t think of any reason he would have been outside your store in the dead of night?”

  “Not a single one. There isn’t any explanation I can think of. It’s as much of a puzzle to me as it is to you.”

  The marshal nodded thoughtfully, as if filing Caleb’s words away in his mind for future reference. “From the quality of his clothes, it’s evident that he was probably a man of good standing. Wherever he came from, I expect there’s at least someone back there who’s wondering where he is.”

  Caleb tapped his fingers on the counter. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

  “The only connection I can find at all is that someone left a horse in the livery stable the night before the body was discovered. But Micah was over in the saloon at the time, so he didn’t see who left the horse, and there was nothing to indicate what the man’s name was or where he came from or why he was in Cedar Ridge. Nobody in town seems to know anything about him . . . but he was found here on your steps.”

  The marshal leaned over the counter and peered into Caleb’s face. “I can’t help but feel that there’s some kind of tie-in here, but I don’t know what it is. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  Caleb straightened and leaned away from the intensity of the lawman’s gaze. “This is the West, after all. It isn’t always a safe place to be.”

  “True, but this isn’t just some drunken brawl ending in a shootout. This is outright murder. A murder that happened right under my nose, which is something I take personally. It might have been done by someone passing through—that seems to be the prevailing theory around town—but it might just as well be someone who lives here. And if the murderer is still around, I intend to see justice done.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Melanie appeared at the bottom of the stairs, carrying a sheet of paper in one hand.

  Caleb turned, surprised to see her looking much more refreshed than when he’d left her a few minutes previously.

  She walked over to join them at the counter. “Whoever that poor man was, the people who cared about him deserve to be notified.”

  The marshal squinted at her. “Did he look familiar to you? He had to have some reason for coming to your store.”

  Melanie shook her head. “I can’t imagine what that might be . . . especially in the middle of the night. Perhaps he didn’t intend to come here at all. Maybe he was being pursued by whomever it was who killed him, and he was simply trying to hide.”

  Marshal Hooper regarded her thoughtfully. “Maybe. Whatever the case, it happened in my town, and I’m going to keep on digging until I find the answers I’m looking for.”

  Melanie nodded solemnly, then she brightened. “Look what I found.” She held the paper out to Caleb. “It’s Cousin George’s will.”

  Caleb’s jaw sagged. Feeling as if he’d just been kicked in the gut, he reached out to take the document, a single sheet of paper with the words Last Will and Testament across the top. He scanned the writing below, letting his eyes skim past several mentions of debts to be settled from his estate down to the only words that mattered.

  I leave all my worldly possessions, including my share in the Ross-Nelson Mercantile, to my cousin, Melanie Esther Ross.

  With a sense of disbelief, Caleb went over the will a second time, giving it a more thorough scrutiny. He recognized the handwriting as George’s, having already seen it on paperwork pertaining to the store. And if the writing belonged to George Ross, that meant the will was truly his—which meant . . .

  He looked up and into Melanie’s eyes. “I guess this makes it official.”
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  Her face fairly glowed, and she bounced up and down on her toes, looking as if she wanted to break into a joyous dance. “That’s right. We’re partners. You can’t run me off now.”

  The marshal raised his eyebrows and looked at Caleb.

  Caleb squirmed under the man’s sharp scrutiny and tried to keep from looking as if he’d just had his legs kicked out from under him. Melanie was right. There was no way he could ease her out of the store now. George’s will made it clear—she had as much right to be there as he did.

  15

  Melanie hummed while she bent over the wooden crate lid she had sanded smooth that morning and wielded her paintbrush with care as she put the finishing touches on a new sign. She took her time cleaning her brush and putting the paint jar away in the back room. Returning to her newly painted sign, she touched the bright crimson letters with her fingertips to make sure they were dry before carrying the placard to the window and angling it so it would be visible from the street.

  Caleb looked up from the back shelves, where he stood atop the stepladder, restocking cans of vegetables. “What are you doing?”

  “Putting up a sign.”

  “I can see that.” Caleb climbed down from the stepladder and walked over to the window. “What’s it for?”

  Melanie favored him with a placid smile. “I’m going to run a special on those chamber pots.”

  “You’re what?” Caleb’s look of horror would have been comical if not for the scowl that accompanied it.

  Melanie clasped her hands in front of her. “We haven’t sold a one of these in the time I’ve been here. It’s far better to move the existing inventory so we can make room for new stock, even if we have to sell it at a discount. Don’t you agree?”

  He didn’t. Melanie could tell by the way his chin jutted out. She continued to smile sweetly, all the while bracing herself for the argument she knew would ensue. Instead, Caleb returned to the stepladder and went back to restocking, setting the cans of peas on the shelf with more force than necessary.

  Melanie checked the position of her sign again, singing softly under her breath. Finding Cousin George’s will had made things infinitely easier for her . . . if not for Caleb. With her position finally established, she no longer had to prove herself. The discovery of the will made her a bona fide partner, and the two of them would have to learn to get along . . . whether Caleb liked it or not.

  Which he didn’t. He had, however, accepted defeat. Although the glowering looks he sent her way made his feelings plain enough. Too bad. Melanie chuckled under her breath.

  She looked up every time someone passed by the window, half expecting Will Blake to stop by. Her lips curved at the memory of the visits he’d made to the store over the past few days, sometimes making some small purchase as an excuse, other times merely to stop and pass the time with her. Obviously her tirade last week hadn’t been enough to deter his interest. And she was glad of that. The better she got to know Will, the more she valued his friendship.

  Shooting a quick glance at her unwilling partner, she ducked into the storeroom and headed straight for the intricately inlaid music box. She found her way blocked by a large crate she hadn’t seen before.

  Melanie bent over and peered at the label. Her pulse quickened when she saw her name and the word Fragile stenciled on the top. It must be the set of china she’d ordered. Reaching for a small crowbar, she pried the crate lid open and worked her hand down through the excelsior until her fingers encountered a smooth, curved object.

  She pushed the excelsior away, lifted her find from its nest of wood shavings, and held the teacup up to the light. A smile curved her lips. The china’s Blush pattern was even more beautiful than she had imagined.

  And Caleb hadn’t said a word about its arrival.

  Fine. Melanie’s smile broadened as she straightened and brushed off her skirt with her free hand. She wouldn’t say anything to him about her discovery. She would take her time to plan the perfect display, then set it out and surprise him.

  She bent to return the cup to the crate, but then thought better of it and dug through the excelsior again until she located a delicate saucer. Wiping both cup and saucer free of dust, she set them on a shelf in plain view. Caleb couldn’t help but see them next time he came into the storeroom.

  Melanie chuckled as she leaned across the crate and reached for the music box. Her fingers traced the scrolled pattern of inlaid wood on the top. Even if they didn’t offer it for sale, such a beautiful piece deserved to be out on display, not hidden away where no one could appreciate it. Lifting it with care, she carried it into the mercantile and set it in a place she had already cleared on a shelf that held crockery and other breakable items.

  She stepped back to admire the effect and felt something roll under her foot. Looking down, she saw she had stepped on one of Levi’s tin soldiers. Scooping up the toy, she bent to peer under the counter and beckoned to Levi. “You mustn’t line your men up on the floor like that. One of the customers might trip over them. Why don’t you set them up on one of the shelves, where they’ll be out of the way?”

  Levi pushed his lower lip out but complied with her request, and was soon intent on arranging his troops on one of the shelves under the fabric table.

  Melanie smiled. In addition to feeling more like a part of the store, she was beginning to feel more confident about using the skills learned during her time as a governess in dealing with Levi. The boy just needed more attention than he had been getting.

  Caleb wasn’t an uncaring father, she mused while she ran the feather duster across a display of bar soap. The poor man was just overwhelmed. She could only imagine the pressure he’d been under, trying to keep a business afloat and to corral his rambunctious son, all at the same time.

  Here was another way she could add to their partnership. By helping with Levi, she could ease the strain Caleb had been under. She had already implemented several changes in that area, making it a practice to check on Levi’s whereabouts at frequent intervals instead of assuming that silence meant he was staying in his fort and out of trouble. Experience had taught her that silence was not always golden. Knowing where he was and what he was doing at all times had proven remarkably effective in keeping the boy in line.

  The bell tinkled, and a man dressed in dusty miner’s garb stepped inside, holding the door open to admit the mayor’s wife, as well.

  Levi scooted across to Melanie and tugged at her skirt. “It’s the S lady,” he whispered.

  Melanie shooed him back to play with his soldiers, smothering a smile at the boy’s fascination with Ophelia Pike’s exaggerated curves.

  Mrs. Pike eyed Levi playing quietly and gave Melanie an approving nod.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Pike. May I help you?” Melanie asked.

  “Thank you,” the other woman replied, “but I think I’d like to browse awhile.”

  The miner wandered to the other end of the store and began sorting through a selection of pick handles. A moment later, Caleb joined him, and the two were soon deep in discussion.

  Melanie picked up the feather duster and continued cleaning the displays.

  “Miss Ross, I need your advice.” Mrs. Pike’s voice carried clearly from near the shelves where bolts of fabric were stored.

  Melanie set the feather duster aside and turned toward the fabric table to check on Levi. He wasn’t there.

  She shot a frantic glance around the rest of the store, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. But he’d been busy lining up his soldiers only a moment before. Where could he have gone in such a short time?

  Mrs. Pike unrolled a length of calico and held it up. “I’m trying to decide if this would be suitable for a morning dress.” She raised the cloth for Melanie to see. She turned slightly as she did so, revealing Levi standing directly behind her.

  Melanie gasped, and her throat went dry. She now had a clear view of Levi, his little face screwed up in a mask of concentration. The tip of his tongue protruded from one
corner of his mouth as he focused on setting up a skirmish line of soldiers ever so neatly . . . on the shelf created by Ophelia Pike’s bustle.

  Melanie watched in fascinated horror, wondering what she should do. She discarded her first impulse to leap across the intervening space and snatch the soldiers up in her hand. But the mayor’s wife was certain to discover the battalion on her backside any moment, and Melanie cringed at the thought of her reaction.

  Caleb left the miner looking through a stack of canvas-duck work trousers and strolled her way, unaware of the little drama playing out before him.

  Melanie waved, trying to send him a silent signal without catching Mrs. Pike’s attention.

  The lady in question reached for a different bolt of fabric. “Or perhaps this shade of blue would suit my complexion better. What do you think?”

  “That would be lovely, too, Mrs. Pike.”

  Melanie recognized the exact moment Caleb realized what was going on from the terrified expression on his face. He shot a questioning look at Melanie, who could only shrug a response and gesture at him. He was closer, and Levi was his son. It was up to him to do something to save the situation.

  Inching up behind the unsuspecting Mrs. Pike, Caleb stretched out one hand and picked up a soldier between his thumb and forefinger, removing it from its perch with infinite care.

  Levi opened his mouth to voice a protest, but Caleb quelled him with a warning look.

  “Or perhaps this would be better?” Mrs. Pike swung around to face Melanie. Her movement also brought her face-to-face with Caleb, who stood with his hand hovering over the spot where her derriere had been a moment before.

  Mrs. Pike’s mouth formed an O, and her eyes grew round. “I beg your pardon!”