The Bride's Prerogative by Susan Page Davis Read Free Book Online Page B

was addressed. Sure enough, he spoke next.
    “If that was used as a weapon against someone, why didn’t the person who used it throw it in the stove and burn it up?” Cyrus asked.
    “That I don’t know, sir.”
    “So, what are you going to do about it?”
    Ethan gulped. He remembered Gert saying, ‘I think the mayor chose the right man for the job.’ But what did Gert know anyway? Guns and bread dough, yes. But law enforcement? She knew as much as he knew about tatting lace, which was nothing.
    “I’ve sent a telegram to Boise,” he managed. Fennel and Walker looked at each other.
    “That’s probably best,” the mayor said grudgingly.
    “Are they going to send a deputy marshal up here?” Cyrus again had the probing questions.
    “I haven’t heard back yet.”
    “I suppose we should inventory Bert’s things,” Oscar said.
    “Yes, we should.” Cyrus picked up his glass. “I told the mayor earlier that I went by Bert’s place this afternoon to make sure his livestock was all right and there weren’t any animals in the barn. His horse is over at the livery. The cattle will be all right in the pasture for a day or two, but we need to make sure no one steals them or the things in his house.”
    The mayor nodded decisively. “That’s a good job for you to do tomorrow, Chapman. Take a couple of fellows with you and list everything of value.” He turned to Cyrus. “Where’s Bert’s son living now?”
    “Oregon City, I think.”
    Ethan cleared his throat. “I guess I can get an inventory made and send it to him. Peter Nash would have his address at the post office.”
    “Well, there’s not much else we can do, is there?” Walker took a deep swallow that emptied his glass. He set it on the table with a thump. “I need to get home, gentlemen.” He rose and donned his hat. “Sheriff, keep me informed.”
    Cyrus and Oscar pushed their chairs back. Ethan surmised the interview was over. As Fennel pushed past him, he said, “Yes, Chapman. If there’s going to be federal lawmen coming here, we need to be prepared.”
    Ethan stared after them, holding his hat. Didn’t they care that Bert was murdered? Weren’t they anxious to have the killer apprehended? They didn’t seem worried about anything except government men coming to Fergus and upsetting their routine.
    “So Bert’s death wasn’t an accident.”
    He turned his head. Bitsy stood at his elbow, looking at the door where the men had just exited.
    Ethan wished Walker had let him tell him in private. Too late now. Everyone at Bitsy’s place knew, and the news would be all over town within an hour.

    Libby hurried down the stairs Friday morning to let Florence in at the back door of the Paragon Emporium. Punctual as usual, Florence untied and removed her bonnet, revealing the rusty red locks that clashed with her rosy cheeks.
    “Miz Adams, you’ll never guess what Myra Harper told me this morning.”
    Libby smiled as she headed for the counter. Her daily preparations for business would take most of the half hour that remained before opening time.
    “You’re probably right, Florence, so just tell me.”
    “The sheriff was murdered.”
    Libby stopped in her new high-topped, eleven-button calfskin boots and eyed her clerk cautiously. “Bert Thalen was murdered?”
    “Well, sure. Not the
new
sheriff.”
    “I should hope not.”
    Florence giggled. “Me, too. Sheriff Chapman’s a sight cuter’n Sheriff Thalen ever was.”
    Libby tried to scowl at her but failed. Ethan
was
a well-favored young man, and she supposed it was only natural for eighteen-year-old Florence to sigh over him, though Ethan probably had ten or twelve years on her.
    “Now, Florence, don’t speak ill of the dead. After all, you’ve no idea how Bert Thalen looked thirty years ago. Could be he was the handsomest man in the territory.”
    The girl giggled again as she hung up her bonnet. “I doubt that, ma’am. He was a nice man, but handsome he was not.”
    Libby