Authors: Trouble in Store
The question gnawed at him. His feelings had undergone a drastic change from their early days together, when he’d wanted to send her packing. Now he hoped the fear raised by the killings didn’t prompt her to pack up and leave on her own.
Her presence made the store a better place, and he had to admit some of her crazy ideas had paid off. She seemed to have a knack for enticing people into the mercantile and persuading them to stretch their purchases beyond what they had intended.
He stared at the glow of light, remembering the feeling of holding her in his arms last night when they’d danced. The smoothness of her skin and the soft touch of her breath upon his cheek. He hadn’t felt that kind of connection with another person since Corinna died, and he wasn’t certain he
was ready to feel it again. He shoved his fingers through his hair. Was this new connection between them a blessing from above or a danger he should run away from?
Maybe flight was the best option. Not physically leaving Cedar Ridge, but distancing himself emotionally, being content to have her as a partner in business, nothing more. But he didn’t want to run away. The realization struck him like a heavy weight.
And he didn’t want her to make a run for it, either.
If that was the case, he would have to find some way to make the store secure and give her peace of mind about staying there on her own. New locks, certainly. Maybe bars to drop across both of the building’s doors. He would see to that first thing in the morning.
In the meantime, though, he felt a responsibility to make sure she had locked the doors and was safe for the night.
He stepped back into the bedroom and pulled on his clothes. After checking to be sure that Levi was fast asleep on his little cot, Caleb slipped out the door into the alley that ran between his house and the store. He locked the door behind him, something he never did when just stepping out for a short time. But tonight was different.
He crossed the alley with quick, sure strides, but his steps dragged when he neared the back stoop of the mercantile. Now that he’d come that far, what should he do next? The key to the back door rested in his pocket, but if he opened the door and called upstairs, he ran the risk of scaring her to death—or of finding out she had already armed herself with something more substantial than a broom.
Stepping down off the stoop, he looked around for inspiration and saw the pebbles scattered across the surface of
the alley, illuminated by the moonlight. Bending down, he scooped up a handful of the small rocks and flung one at Melanie’s window.
Nothing happened. He raised his arm, ready to throw again, when he saw the curtain move.
Melanie’s face peered out cautiously through the slit between the curtain panels. He waved to catch her attention. The moment she spotted him, she pushed the curtain to one side so she could raise the window and lean out over the sill. “Caleb? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He kept his voice low. “I just wanted to let you know I’m coming inside.” He trotted up the back steps and let himself in with his key, then locked the door behind him.
Melanie stood at the foot of the stairs, holding the oil lamp in her hand. She peered up at him, her face anxious in the lamplight. “What’s the matter? Has something happened?”
Taking the lamp from her, he set it on the counter, where its soft glow bathed them in a circle of golden light. Caleb took in the sight of her, at the bare toes peeping out from under the hem of her wrapper and the trusting expression on her face. His breath left his lungs.
Melanie stepped toward him and laid her hand on his arm. “Caleb?”
The heat from her fingertips seemed to sear right through the fabric of his shirtsleeve. He tried to swallow, his throat suddenly dry. Maybe coming to the mercantile hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “I saw the light in your window. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
A tender smile lit Melanie’s face in a way that threatened
to undo him. “That’s kind of you, but I’m fine, really. I just couldn’t sleep.”
“I thought you might be worried about what Wendell Trask said at the meeting. I wanted you to know I’ll be watching out for you. Remember, I’m just a moment away. If there’s any problem, all you need to do is shout, and I’ll be here.”
A sheen of tears filmed her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I appreciate that.”
Caleb leaned toward her like a moth drawn to a flame. More than anything at that moment, he wanted to take her in his arms and shield her from all harm. But if he stayed any longer, they both might face danger of a different kind.
Summoning up all his resolve, he pulled away and edged toward the back door. “Tomorrow I’m going to do everything I can to make the store more secure. To begin with, I’ll put new locks and drop bars on both doors. I don’t ever want you to have to be afraid.”
“That would be a comfort.” Melanie padded toward him in her bare feet. “Can I fix something for you before you leave? Some chamomile tea, perhaps, to help you sleep?” She half turned toward the kitchen, and the neck of her wrapper slipped a few inches to one side. Caleb’s gaze fastened on the creamy smoothness where her neck and shoulder met.
As much as he wanted to stay, Caleb recognized that accepting her offer would mean treading on dangerous ground—ground that threatened to crumble beneath him at any moment. It took all the willpower he possessed to shake his head. “No, thanks. I’d better leave.”
He turned quickly to the door and fumbled to open it in the darkness. Stepping out onto the back stoop, he pulled the door shut behind him and drew in a breath of cool night air.
He inserted the key into the keyhole and twisted the lock. Then he stood for a moment, resting his forehead against the smooth wood.
The floorboards squeaked, and he heard Melanie’s soft voice through the door. “Thank you for checking on me. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Caleb pulled in a ragged breath and turned his steps toward home. Sleep was going to be a long time coming.
T
hree lanterns.” Melanie checked the count against the list in her hand, clicked her tongue, and penciled a quick note.
Caleb emerged from the back room, carrying a bag of flour over one shoulder. He shot a curious glance in her direction. “What are you doing?”
“Did you realize we have three of these big barn lanterns on this wall?” She tapped the list with her pencil for emphasis.
Caleb set the bag down next to the flour barrel. A cloud of fine white dust puffed up around him. He brushed off his sleeve and shrugged. “Nothing surprising about that. We’ve had those ever since I came here.”
“Exactly. I’ve been going over our inventory and comparing it to the orders Cousin George and your uncle made over the past couple of years.” She pointed to the lanterns. “We still have those three left, out of the five they originally ordered well over a year ago.”
Caleb ripped the stitching along the top of the flour bag
and upended it into the barrel. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? We have them on hand in case anyone wants to buy one.”
Melanie tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor. “You’re missing my point. They have just been collecting dust. Nobody is interested in them. They’re taking up space we ought to be filling with merchandise people are more willing to buy.”
Caleb shook the last of the flour into the barrel and folded the empty bag over his arm. He gave Melanie a wary look. “Such as?”
Finally the opening she had been waiting for. “I’m glad you asked. I’ve started a list of items I think will prove to be quite popular.” She pointed to a sheet of paper on the counter.
Caleb walked over and picked up the page, already half filled with writing. His eyes grew round. “This is only the beginning of your list?”
She nodded. “We need to bring in more profit, and I believe introducing a wider variety of goods will be a good way to do it.”
Caleb scanned the list again and ran his free hand through his hair, leaving a streak of flour across his forehead. Melanie braced herself, waiting for the inevitable objection. Instead he returned to the back room, still carrying the flour bag.
Melanie smiled, pleased at this indication that he was beginning to accept the idea of having her as a full partner. She went back to her inventory, checking it against the items on the next shelf. Even though Caleb obviously had his doubts, she felt sure her idea was a good one. Business had improved somewhat during the week since the town meeting, but it still hadn’t returned to their usual level of sales. Thank goodness for loyal customers like Mrs. Fetterman, the Professor, Micah
Rawlins, and Andrew Bingham, who refused to be swayed by idle speculation. Broadening the store’s inventory while keeping their staple items in stock should go a long way toward helping to bring back the rest of their customers, and maybe draw in some new ones.
And, she reminded herself, the circuit rider was due to arrive the next day. Seeing the store crowded for another worship service would surely help the townspeople overcome their newfound reluctance to set foot across the mercantile’s threshold.
She hummed as she worked, feeling more rested than she had in days. Since Caleb changed the locks and put drop bars on both the doors a week ago, she had been sleeping much better. A smile curved her lips at the memory of his late-night visit. She couldn’t have been more astonished when the pebble had rattled against her window and she’d discovered him standing outside, concerned for her well-being. It had been a long time since someone had watched out for her like that.
The bell over the front door jingled, and her spirits soared when Lena Andrews stepped inside. Melanie hadn’t seen the town’s dressmaker in the store in over a week. She gave the woman her brightest smile. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Andrews. What can I get for you today?”
Instead of answering, the woman fidgeted near the front door, darting anxious glances around the store’s interior. “I need a bolt of muslin, please. And three yards of that blue calico.” She edged a few steps farther inside, while Melanie set her checklist on the counter and pulled the bolts of fabric from the shelf.
Melanie watched from under her lashes as she unrolled the bolt of calico on the fabric table and prepared to measure out
the requested yardage. What was wrong with the woman? She looked positively agitated.
Melanie offered another smile while she spread the calico out and smoothed it with her hand. “We’re having beautiful weather,” she said in a soothing tone. “Don’t you love the smell of fruit trees in blossom?”
Mrs. Andrews ducked her head in a quick nod. She inched her way over to the table and watched Melanie cut the fabric. She flicked another glance around the store, then took a deep breath and leaned across the table. At that moment, Caleb walked in from the storeroom. Melanie grinned when she saw he still had a streak of white powder on his hair and forehead.
“Have you seen that ball of cotton twine?” he asked. “I thought it was on the shelf next to the wrapping paper, but I can’t find it.”
“Check under the counter,” Melanie told him. “I used it to tie up a parcel for Mrs. Fetterman.”
He retrieved the twine and nodded his thanks, then smiled at their customer. “Good to see you, Mrs. Andrews.”
Instead of answering, the dressmaker shrank away and shifted her position to face the opposite direction.
Melanie folded the calico and pushed it across the table along with the bolt of muslin, staring at her customer with growing concern. “Is something the matter?”
Mrs. Andrews picked up the bolt of muslin and the cut length of calico and held them close against her chest. Then she leaned forward and pointed toward the door where Caleb had disappeared. “You seem like a nice young woman, so I thought I ought to warn you.”
Melanie caught her breath in a quick gasp. “Warn me? About what?”
Mrs. Andrews looked over her shoulder. “Not what . . .
who
.” She jabbed her finger toward the storeroom again. “There’s something funny about this store and all the goings-on here. Those two brothers being killed was bad enough, but now it looks like someone may have done in George and Alvin, as well. Who’s the one who stood to gain from that, I ask you? Who inherited this store? You’d best be on your guard—you could be next.” She spun around and scuttled out of the store before Melanie could say a word.
Melanie was still staring at the door when Caleb returned carrying a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine. She looked at him, wondering what on earth Lena Andrews could have been talking about.
The bell rang again, announcing the arrival of Micah Rawlins. He gave Melanie a genial nod, then crossed over to stand next to Caleb. “Have you heard about the town meeting?”
Caleb set the parcel down. “Another one? When?”
“This evening.”
“No, Marshal Hooper hasn’t said a word to me about it.” Caleb folded his arms. “I’m glad you let me know. I still have time to get things moved around and set up in here.”
Micah shuffled his feet and looked away. “It isn’t going to be here, Caleb. They’re having it down at O’Shea’s.”
Caleb’s mouth fell open. “That doesn’t make any sense. We have twice the room.”
“Well, you know how people talk. I guess some of them aren’t comfortable coming here, considering . . . well, you know.” Micah edged toward the door. “Well, I’d best be on my way. I hate being the bearer of bad tidings, but I wanted to be sure you knew what was going on.”
When the door swung shut behind him, Melanie walked
over to join Caleb. “Considering what? What was that all about?”
Caleb’s mouth set in a grim line. “I don’t know, but we’re going to be at that meeting tonight, and we’ll find out.”
By the time they closed up shop for the day and walked down Lincoln Street to O’Shea’s Emporium at the far end of town, the meeting was already underway, with Marshal Hooper trying to stanch the flow of questions being thrown his way.
There were nearly as many people inside the emporium as had been in the mercantile the night of the first town meeting, and those who found a place to sit were perched on crates, barrels, kegs—any available surface. The rest fit in wherever they could, standing shoulder to shoulder. Caleb held the door for Melanie, and they managed to squeeze inside. Micah Rawlins waved from a spot against the back wall and moved over as much as he could to make room for them. Glad that Mrs. Fetterman had volunteered to keep Levi at her home during the meeting, Melanie took her place beside Caleb. She turned her attention to the front of the room.
The marshal’s face deepened to a dangerous shade of red. “I called this meeting to try to set some things straight, not to be harangued by a passel of tomfool questions. Now, simmer down, all of you. The sooner you let me speak, the sooner you can all be on your way and go home to your supper.”
The rumble of dissent died down, ending altogether once the lawman sent a stern look from one side of the room to the other. “Rumors have been flying left and right over the past week, and I’m here to tell you that it has to stop. From
what I’ve heard, some of you think that because there haven’t been any arrests yet, it means I haven’t been doing my job, and maybe I should be replaced.”
Melanie’s eyes widened.
Mayor Pike stood up from his seat at the front of the room and took a stance near the marshal. He turned to face the crowd and tucked his thumbs beneath the lapels of his jacket, as if getting ready to make a political speech.
“Fellow citizens,” he began, “I want to assure you that I have complete trust in Marshal Hooper, and I am certain he is doing everything in his power to bring the perpetrator to justice. As you know, the safety of Cedar Ridge and its people has always been the highest priority of my—”
“Thank you, Mayor.” Marshal Hooper stepped forward. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, especially in light of what I’m going to say next.”
The mayor’s face turned a dusky red. Returning to his seat beside his wife, he dropped back into his chair with a loud
harrumph.
The marshal went on as though there hadn’t been an interruption. “I’ve heard talk that some of you want to form a vigilance committee and take care of the situation yourselves. The last I heard, Arizona Territory was still a part of these United States. That means everyone—man or woman—is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. Let me tell you right now, if any of you decide to go off half-cocked and take the law into your own hands, you’ll be the ones who’ll find yourselves arrested and facing charges.”
An angry buzz broke out, as if someone had stirred up a hive of bees.
Wendell Trask stood and raised his voice to be heard above
the rest. “Then you’d better get the job done faster, Marshal. We just want to protect our families.”
“I understand that, Wendell. But what you need to understand is that bringing criminals to justice is my job. And I’ll get it done a whole lot faster if I don’t have to deal with a bunch of interference from hotheads like you.”
Rance Yeary, the saloonkeeper at the Silver Moon, stood up and thrust out his chin. “What exactly are you doing to keep this town safe? People are getting afraid to go out after dark anymore, and I’m losing customers because of it.”
Melanie grimaced. She knew exactly how he felt.
Wendell Trask pushed his way forward through the crowd. “Some of us have been talking, Marshal. Things like murder don’t happen without a reason. It seems to me that one of the questions you ought to be asking is why anyone would want to kill these men. Who stands to benefit by getting them out of the way?”
Marshal Hooper nodded. “Fair enough. All right, since we’re all together, let me just ask all of you right now: Who stood to gain by Charley Weber’s death? Is there anybody here who can shed some light on that?”
A man Melanie didn’t recognize spoke up from the far side of the emporium. “Not many of us here were acquainted with him—at least, not before he came here. The only people he knew before he showed up in Cedar Ridge were George and Alvin.”
Melanie sucked in her breath and shot a quick glance at Caleb, who looked just as shocked as she felt. Had her cousin and Caleb’s uncle just gone from being thought of as possible murder victims to suspected killers? The idea was outrageous.