Behind His Blue Eyes (26 page)

Avoiding the faces around her, Audra looked out the kitchen window, where the night's rain had given way to a crisp, clean sky so brightly blue it matched Ethan's eyes. Perhaps Winnie was right. Perhaps Father would have one of his good days and she could have the wedding she had always wanted. If not, she would still be surrounded by friends, and she would still be marrying the man she loved. That was what was most important, wasn't it?

Resolved, she smiled across the table at Ethan. “I'll check with the ladies. I'm certain they'll want to be involved in the planning. Perhaps a month?”

“Tomorrow would be better.” Ethan's grin turned wicked. “I know how impatient you are.”

“Tomorrow?” Winnie bounded to her feet. “Laws, no. We got a dress to make and cooking to do and the preacher to talk to and music—”

“Okay.” Laughing, Ethan held up a hand. “Do what you need to. I'll cover any expenses as long as you get it done by the middle of June. That'll give me time to settle with the railroad.”

“Settle what?” Audra asked.

“My employment. I have to give them some sort of notice.”

“You're giving up your position?”

“Of course.” He looked from one surprised face to the other. “I don't want to move from here. Do you?”

Head-shaking all around.

“Good. Then unless my employers at the Denver and Santa Fe want me to continue working here in Heartbreak Creek, I'll find something else to do.”

“Praise the Lord.” Winnie poked her husband's shoulder. “We staying.”

But Audra wasn't convinced. “Like what?”

He shrugged. “Like architecture. My suspension ended over a year ago. I still have my certification, although I may have to renew it. And both Tait and Angus, or Ash, or Wallace, or whatever that Scottish earl calls himself, want me to draw up building plans for them, so I should stay busy for a while.”

Audra studied him, trying to read his expression. She remembered all the times she had seen him shy away from anything involving construction. She didn't want him to feel driven back into a profession he had seemed desperate to avoid. There were other ways to earn a wage.

“Is that what you want to do, Ethan? Go back into architecture?”

“Well . . .” Frowning, he scratched his chin and gave it some thought.

But Audra wasn't fooled. She had seen the laughter behind his blue eyes.

“If I can't live off widow ladies with lots of money,” he finally said, “or the salacious novels of romance and adventure you have yet to write, I guess it'll do.”

“Oh, you!” Winnie popped him with her dishrag. “Quit your teasing, Mr. Ethan. We got no time for it.” Turning to her husband, she poked his shoulder again. “Curtis, first thing, you make sure that buggy clean, repaired, and ready to go. Then get a new shirt. And since Mr. Ethan paying, I'll get me a new dress, too. Lawd, Lawd, ain't it grand!”

Swinging the rag over her head, she danced a shuffling circle on the kitchen floor. “We finally got us a wedding to celebrate!”

Twenty-six

T
he next week passed in a blur for Audra as news of the engagement became the talk of the town. She knew the excitement wasn't solely because of her wedding. It was obvious, as seen in the large turnout at the church social, that country folk enjoyed any excuse to celebrate, and a wedding that promised food, music, and dancing was the best excuse of all.

Even Mr. Bonet offered his well wishes, although they were somewhat subdued. Audra had long suspected he held stronger feelings for her than friendship, and the disappointment she saw in his eyes when she told him the news momentarily damped her joy.

“I wish you all the best, Miss Pearsall. Mr. Hardesty is a lucky man.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Will you continue to work after you marry?”

“I hope to. Mr. Hardesty knows how much I like being at the
Herald
, and has encouraged me to stay as long as you need me.”

“Very generous of him, considering the things I said during the inquiry into the Irishman's murder.”

Audra didn't know how to respond to that. Or how to react when he took her hand in his. There was something off about this entire conversation.

Staring down at her hand, he said, “I now know I was wrong to accuse him of any involvement in Gallagher's death. Especially since my doing so created a difficult situation for you.” He looked up, his dark brown gaze boring into her with that disturbing intensity that reminded her of Richard Villars. “For that I apologize, Miss Pearsall. And offer my heartfelt hope that we will always be friends.”

“Of course, Mr. Bonet. I would have it no other way.”

“Thank you.” With one of his infrequent smiles, he released her hand. “Now let's get this edition out. I'm sure your neighbors are awaiting the official announcement so they can make plans to help you celebrate.”

So much for her dream of a small, intimate ceremony. With only a few weeks to make all the arrangements, she might have felt overwhelmed if the ladies hadn't immediately stepped in.

“We have it all figured out,” Lucinda had announced during tea with the ladies the Saturday afternoon after the announcement. She patted a tablet beside her plate. “Everything is right here. You're not to worry about a thing, Audra.”

Edwina leaned forward, her blue eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Winnie and I are making your dress. I have a book of designs I want you to look over so we can get started as soon as possible.” Turning to Maddie and Lucinda, she added, “Do you remember how much fun the fittings were when we were working on my dress for Declan's and my second wedding?”

Second wedding?
Another secret to ferret out?

“Fun?” Maddie laughed. “What I recall most is how often you interrupted those fittings with trips to the necessary.”

“And snacking,” Lucinda added. “I never knew someone so skinny could eat so much.”

“Oh, hush. I had reason. I was eating for two, remember. It's a shame, Lucinda, that you gave your wedding dress to that charity in Denver. You and Audra are near the same size. I could easily have altered it to fit.”

Lucinda waved the suggestion aside. “Nonsense. Every bride deserves her own wedding dress. Even more so when the groom is covering all the bills. And get that worried look off your face, Audra. I assure you Ethan can afford it. Especially with that generous bonus the railroad paid him to stay on until the bridge line is completed. More tea or cookies, anyone?”

Getting no takers, she nodded to the server standing near the door into the kitchen, then returned to her list. “Maddie, have you ordered the necessary photographic supplies?”

“I have. And that nice Mr. Tilly has consented to assist.”

“Excellent. Audra, I'm assuming you'll be having the ceremony at Come All You Sinners.”

Audra nodded.

“Good.” Lucinda wrote on her tablet, then looked up with a worried frown. “I know Ethan set June fifteenth as the date, but that's a Thursday. Do you think you could convince him to wait until Saturday, June eighteenth?”

“Certainly.” Although it wasn't Ethan who would suffer for the delay. Ever since that almost-audition the other evening, he had kept a distance between them, which had only increased her impatience for the full audition. She was utterly shameless.

“I'll have Pastor Rickman set aside the date. You may clear, Miriam. Thank you.” While the efficient woman who handled everything from kitchen duties to housekeeping chores, and even some accounting tasks, cleared away the dirty dishes, Lucinda flipped through her tablet, making notations here and there.

Watching her, Audra understood why she was such a capable manager. The woman was a relentless organizer.

“Now let's settle the particulars of the ceremony, shall we?” Lucinda said, moving on to the next topic. “Weather permitting, we will begin the procession from the hotel to the church at one in the afternoon. Maddie, may I count on you to help decorate the Pearsall buggy?”

“Of course. Shall we drape it so Audra isn't seen before the ceremony?”

“A wonderful idea. Does Ash still intend to lead out with his bagpipes?”

“I'm afraid so. Audra, be sure to bring cotton for your ears.”

“Then Ethan will come next,” Lucinda went on, “followed by his attendants, Tait and Declan.”

Edwina raised her hand. “If it's acceptable with you, can Thomas stand in for my husband? If Declan and I are both up front, who will watch the children?”

“Perhaps they might want to participate,” Audra offered. “Brin could be the flower girl and her three older brothers could act as ushers.”

A moment of silence as they all envisioned the disastrous results if the Brodie children were allowed to move freely about the church without strict supervision.

“We daren't,” their stepmother finally said.

“You're right.” Lucinda made a mark on her paper. “Audra, will Ethan mind if Thomas steps in?”

“More to the point,” Maddie interrupted, “will Thomas mind?”

Another pause while they contemplated the likelihood of Thomas showing up at the church, much less taking part in the ceremony.

“Perhaps we should let Ethan pick his own attendants,” Audra suggested.

Lucinda shook her head. “I've found the most efficient way to handle these things is to make all the arrangements, then tell the men what they're to do.”

“I so agree. If I left such things to Declan, they'd never get done.”

“How about Curtis?” Audra asked. He was as much a part of her life as Winnie. It was fitting that he should be part of her wedding day, too.

“Perfect!” Another mark on the paper. “So the order will be Ash with his pipes, then Ethan, followed by his attendants, Tait and Curtis. Then the female attendants, then the buggy carrying Audra and her father.”

“Who will drive it, if Curtis is walking with Ethan?” Edwina asked.

They mulled that over for a moment, then Maddie said, “Rayford Jessup! Ash says he's very good with horses.”

“And I'd like for Winnie to ride with me and Father,” Audra put in. “That way if there are any issues . . .”

“Of course.” Lucinda wrote that down then sat back. “And who will your attendants be?”

Audra beamed at the ladies gathered around the table. “Why, you three, of course. I wouldn't want anyone else standing beside me.”

“Oh, dear.” Maddie gave a regretful sigh. “I would love to, of course, but if I'm to take photographs . . .”

“Lucinda and Edwina, then.”

“We'd be honored, won't we, Ed?” Without waiting for an answer, Lucinda asked Audra, “And who will give you away?”

That was a sticky one. What Audra wanted might not be possible. “My father, if he's up to it. If not . . .” She shrugged. “Is it permissible to walk down the aisle alone?”

“Whatever you want to do is permissible,” Lucinda said firmly. “I had my guardian, Mrs. Throckmorton, walk with me. You must do what works best for you, Audra. It's your wedding.”

“Pru walked with me.” Edwina chuckled. “Caused a bit of a stir, but everyone got over it as soon as the food was served, bless their hearts.”

“Then if Father isn't able, I'd like Winnie to take his place. She's been like a mother to me for the last twenty years.”

“Done.” More writing. “And now for decorations.”

And on and on. But with Lucinda's direction, and Maddie's eye for composition, the details were quickly ironed out, except for the music selections, which Audra would discuss later with Biddy Rickman and the choir ladies.

Lucinda consulted her list. “Just to be clear before we put it in the
Herald
 . . . June eighteenth, procession at one, ceremony at two. Weather permitting, a potluck picnic on the grounds around the church, followed by music and dancing until dark. It's an open invitation to all townspeople who want to attend. Anything else?”

When there were no more suggestions, Lucinda closed her tablet and smiled at Audra. “And as Tait's and my gift to you and Ethan, after the other guests have dispersed, the wedding party will retire to the hotel for a formal dinner and private celebration of our latest Heartbreak Creek wedding.”

* * *

“Thomas found another body,” Sheriff Brodie said as they took their seats at their usual corner table in the Red Eye—Brodie, the Scotsman, Rafe Jessup, Tait, and Ethan. “Thomas thinks it's the surveyor with the Southern Utah and Atlantic. There was a tripod and survey equipment nearby. He's still out there checking for anything else.”

“Bluidy hell.” The Scotsman signaled the bartender for a bottle and glasses, then folded his arms on the scarred tabletop. “I canna believe anybody got past the sentry line.”

“They didn't. This one died awhile ago.”

“How?” Tait asked.

The sheriff waited until the bartender came and went. “Drowned in a foot of water.” His expression showed how likely he thought that was. “But animals had been at him so it was hard to tell if he had been killed there or dragged into the water later.”

Since it was the Scotsman's whiskey they were drinking, they waited for him to pour. They drank, gave silent tribute to the fine whiskey and sorry news, then Ethan asked if anything was missing from the dead man's body.

Brodie nodded. “That thing that goes on top of the tripod.”

“The transit theodolite. It helps with triangulation. No surveyor would be without it. So now we have five dead, four of whom were railroad workers.”

“Probably rules out anyone from a competing line,” Tait said. “The only one who has shown real interest so far is the Southern Utah and Atlantic. And they'd be more likely to kill one of our surveyors, than one of their own.”

“I think we can agree,” Brodie said, “that it's someone who doesn't want
any
railroad coming through the canyon. Someone local, maybe.”

“Most of the townspeople are glad we're here,” Tait pointed out. “They're working again. More work and more money means they don't have to move elsewhere.”

“So who would benefit most if the railroad dinna
come through?”

They thought for a moment. “Peter Bonet hates the railroads,” Tait said. “Blames them for his brother's death. But I don't think he'd be strong enough to do what was done to Gallagher.”

“Unless he had help,” Rafe Jessup suggested.

Ethan thought of the cold detachment Eunice had shown when he'd confronted her about the trinkets she had stolen from the patients she had killed. And the way she had laughed when she'd slashed at him with the knife. No anger or fear. None of the reactions one would expect during such a highly charged moment. Even during intercourse, she had shown little emotion. A hunger to control him, perhaps . . . yet never any true passion.

But Peter Bonet was a passionate man. He showed all the emotions she lacked. Anger, resentment, jealousy, grief over his brother's death. He was incapable of being as coldly calculating as this killer seemed to be. “It's not Bonet,” he said. “He arrived in town after the fire. And three of these deaths occurred before then. Quite a bit before, in the cases of the prospector and surveyor.”

Brodie nodded. “And I doubt whoever is doing this would make his dislike of the railroads that obvious, anyway.”

“Which brings us back to my question,” Ash said. “Who would benefit most if the railroad dinna come through?”

After a long silence, Tait said, “It's got to be someone local. Someone who hates the railroad and is able to move freely through the canyon without rousing suspicion. Any thoughts on who that might be?”

An idea came to Ethan. One that he should have considered from the first. Voices faded as he played it through his mind, studying it from all angles until it finally made sense. “We're looking at this all wrong.”

“How so?”

Ethan turned to the sheriff. “Did Thomas say how long the surveyor had been dead? Could he tell if he died before or after the prospector?”

Brodie shook his head. “His guess is they both died several months ago, but with the cooler weather back then, it's hard to tell.”

“When was the woodcutter killed?”

Brodie thought a moment. “First week in March. A week before you came.”

“And the Chinese worker?”

“During the fire. Early April. Maybe the fifth.”

“And Gallagher?”

“The night of the church social. May fourth.”

“So we know for sure the last three murders were a month apart.” Ethan thought back to what he was doing the night Gallagher was killed. He had gone to Audra's to tell her about what happened in California. He remembered standing on the porch, watching her doze, seeing the tears tracks on her face . . . in the dark? No, there was light. From the full moon barely showing above the trees.