told me so in the letter."
"He did?" She wanted to ask what else John had said in the letter,
but she didn't. "John was a good man. He saw promise in everyone, even
when it wasn't there."
"He certainly saw promise in you, and he was right." Fox took
another bite. "So tell me about yourself, Celeste. What brought you to
this town?"
Celeste nearly choked on her flapjack. She hadn't been prepared for his question.
"Nursing?" he probed.
She froze. What did she say now? Did she just blurt out the truth or did she—
Silver leaped up from the kitchen floor and raced down the hall. A moment later a knock sounded at the door.
"Excuse me." Celeste wiped her mouth with her napkin as she rose
from her chair. She'd never been so thankful for an interruption in her
life.
The knock came again, faster, more urgent.
"Coming!" Celeste called.
"Celeste! Celeste!" Big Nose Kate called from the other side of the
door as she pounded with a heavy fist. "Celeste, we need you."
Celeste fumbled with the lock. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
She'd never heard Kate so upset. "Just a minute," she called.
The brass lock finally relinquished its hold and Celeste threw open the door. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Kate wore a three-tiered, red velvet cape thrown over her sleeping
gown. Her hair was twisted in rag rollers, her face, splotchy red and
devoid of any makeup. Without her cream and paint she appeared far
older than her thirty-five years—a fact that frightened Celeste. Was
this to be her fate, too?
"What's wrong, Kate?" Celeste repeated.
"There's been a murder." Kate panted, trying to catch her breath, as
she steeled herself in the doorway. Her cloak fell open and her large
breasts heaved up and down above the neckline of her red and black
satin nightgown.
"A murder?" Celeste took Kate by the arm. "Come in, sit down. You're
winded." Kate was breathing so hard that Celeste feared her heart would
give.
"No." Kate shook her head furiously. "You have to come. The girls are in such a fit, I don't know what to do."
"Who was murdered, Kate?"
"Mealy Margaret," Kate puffed.
"Margaret? Little Margaret?" The picture of a petite face and wispy,
blond hair immediately came to Celeste's mind. Mealy Margaret was a
working girl who plied her trade down the street from Kate's at Sal's
Saloon. Celeste didn't know her well, except for the few times she had
met her at Kate's on Sunday afternoons when they played poker.
"Oh." Celeste lifted her hand to her cheek, feeling oddly numb. "Not
little Margaret. She'd nearly saved up enough money for her train
ticket. She was going to Oregon to her aunt's farm."
"You have to come to the dance hall, Celeste." Kate wrung her
swollen hands. "The girls are in such a way. I can't get them to stop
wailing."
All the girls at Kate's had known Margaret, but none of them had
been close with her. Unfortunately, like many of the young women who
came to Carrington, she was just another lost soul passing through. It
was a tragedy when any human lost his or her life, but Celeste knew
that women like herself quickly hardened themselves to life's
tragedies. It was the way they survived.
Celeste frowned as Kate's initial words caught up to her. "I can't
believe Margaret was murdered. By a customer?" That would be reason for
Kate's girls to be fearful. Carrington was a small town of less than
two hundred. Working girls didn't get murdered by rough customers here,
as they did in the bigger cities.
"We don't know yet. Sheriff Tate's at Sal's now. I only got a quick
look at Margaret before Tate and his deputy shooed us out, but I'll
tell you, I saw enough that I won't be sleeping any time soon."
Celeste still couldn't quite believe it was true. "What happened? A fight with a customer? Was she knifed?"
"She was knifed, all right." Kate's pale face turned a shade whiter.
"She was tied up. Cut up." Tears welled in Kate's eyes. "Disfigured the
way a woman shouldn't be."
Celeste's stomach gave a lurch. "Do they know who
Learning to Kill: Stories