Chapter 35
Chapter
How was that possible? Noreen stared at the handkerchief in James’s hand. Her handkerchief. How had it come to be in Mr. Taggert’s possession? And who had painted that blatantly misleading message upon it?
“I . . . I don’t understand. Where did you find this?”
Taggert glared at her. “Tacked to my front doorframe. Right where you left it.”
Noreen shook her head. “I didn’t. I swear.”
She looked to James, who was rubbing the pad of his thumb over the embroidered forget-me-nots, obviously remembering when he’d last seen them. In her possession while she’d been behind bars. A place to which Taggert seemed determined to have her return.
“James, I didn’t do this.”
He had to trust her. He had to. If he looked her in the eyes and believed her guilty of this atrocity—believed her capable of such a disgraceful act—her heart would shrivel like a tomato left to rot on the vine.
Taggert had no difficulty scoffing at her claim of innocence.
“Bat your lashes all you want, darlin’. It’s not gonna change the facts.
You’re the only one in town with motive.
And this hankie proves your involvement.
You’re guilty as sin, and I got witnesses.
You might have this gaggle of women on your side, but Freeman will hold Paxton’s feet to the fire. Won’t you, Freeman?”
The blacksmith peered at her, eyebrow raised, then crossed his large arms in front of his chest and grunted. Hard to tell if that was an affirmative grunt or a contradictory one, but his opinion wasn’t the one that mattered to her at the moment.
James finally glanced up from the handkerchief, his blue eyes bright against the soot streaks on his face.
He peered at her for a long moment, and her pulse fluttered like a trapped bird as she waited for his verdict.
However, the longer he held her gaze, the more she became aware of what wasn’t there.
No disappointment. No doubt. No condemnation.
He believed her. Noreen’s pulse slowed, and a shaky sigh slipped past her lips.
“There will be a thorough investigation, Taggert. I’ll keep you and Mr. Freeman apprised of my progress. But in this country, a person is presumed innocent until proven guilty.”
“There’s no presumption about it.” Taggert jabbed his finger at the handkerchief. “She left her calling card.”
“Or someone else did, wanting her to take the blame.”
Noreen’s legs quivered to the point she worried they might fail to keep her upright.
Did someone hate her so much that they’d burn down the saloon just to be rid of her?
If she was found guilty, she’d be sentenced to time in prison.
Or had it been an enemy of Taggert’s who found her an easy scapegoat to hide behind?
“Do you believe this, Freeman?” Taggert let out a humorless laugh. “He’s already makin’ excuses for her. He can’t be trusted to run this investigation. Someone needs to fetch the sheriff.”
“Sheriff Adair is trailin’ rustlers,” James offered, his voice as calm and friendly as ever. As if his integrity had not just been slandered. “No one knows precisely where he is. You’re welcome to go hunt for him, if you like. In the meantime, I’ll be gathering evidence and conducting interviews.”
“You mean picking through the evidence to try get your girl off the hook.”
James’s gaze hardened. “I’ll examine all evidence, Taggert.
As should you, if you want to know what really happened here.
Think about it. Why would the person who set fire to your building announce their identity to the world?
Miss O’Sullivan is passionate about temperance, but she’s not lacking intelligence.
And after the few days she spent in the jailhouse, I can guarantee she’s not eager to return to incarceration. ”
“Never would be too soon,” Noreen agreed, her nape growing cold at the thought of being behind bars again.
Martha moved forward and pointed at the handkerchief.
“Not only that, Deputy, but Noreen would never misspell temperance. I’ve personally witnessed her write that word on numerous occasions, and never once has she spelled it incorrectly.
Yet whoever painted that message spelled it -ence instead of -ance. ”
Taggert waved off her observation. “As if that matters. Anyone can make a mistake.”
Martha centered her best teacher’s glare on the man. “Just as you are making one now by jumping to unfounded conclusions.”
“Look, we’re all tired,” the blacksmith said, his arms uncrossing as he moved toward the group. “Let’s go home, clean up, and catch a couple hours of shut-eye. Taggert, you can bunk at our place.” He thumped the saloon owner on the shoulder.
Taggert jerked away from his friend’s touch. “Thanks, Freeman, but I think I’ll stay around here. See what I can salvage.” He shot a scowl at Noreen. “Make sure no one breaks any more bottles.”
James must have been rubbing off on her more than she realized, for Taggert’s jab failed to stir her defensiveness.
She was too busy puzzling over the way he’d shied from the blacksmith’s friendly touch.
Could be lingering anger, but visions of his coat covered in flames brought another hypothesis to mind.
When he failed to get a rise out of her, Taggert stormed off. Mr. Freeman jogged after him, saying something about clearing out some space at the back of the smithy so Taggert could store his belongings.
The others dispersed as well, though many of the ladies who had defended her so adamantly a few minutes before now cast sideways glances in her direction, their uncertainty blaring bright.
No doubt they were questioning her innocence thanks to that infernal handkerchief.
Even Irma failed to meet Noreen’s gaze as she passed by on her way to the road.
“Irma, wait.” Noreen hurried after her.
Thankfully, the woman halted and didn’t make Noreen chase her down. She still didn’t look her in the eye, though, when Noreen drew alongside. She chose to stare at her feet instead. “It’s been a long night, Noreen. You can plead your case tomorrow.”
“It’s not that.” Though the fact Irma thought she needed to plead her case stung.
“I think . . .” She stopped and straightened her posture.
“There’s a good chance that Taggert was burned by the fire that lit his coat.
The way he jerked away from your husband seemed more like pain than anger.
He’ll not be able to doctor it himself. Perhaps you or Mr. Freeman could check on him. ”
Irma lifted her chin, surprise glimmering in her gaze. “Marcus keeps a medicine box at the forge to treat burns. They’re a hazard of his trade. I’ll have a word with him before I head back to the house.”
Noreen nodded, her confidence wilting a bit beneath Irma’s scrutiny. Suddenly craving the company of those who harbored fewer doubts about her character, Noreen turned and headed back toward James and Martha.
“Noreen?” Irma called.
She turned.
“Thanks.”
It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of her innocence, but it was a gift of respect—one she appreciated. Noreen dipped her chin in acknowledgment, then resumed her retreat.
As soon as she came within reach of him, James placed a reassuring hand to her back. “Are you all right?”
Noreen shook her head slightly, too tired to pretend she hadn’t been gutted by Taggert’s accusations. “I still don’t know how my handkerchief ended up tacked to his doorframe.”
She glanced at Martha, knowing she’d understand the hidden layers of this particular betrayal. Swallowing the idea that someone in the society might have started the fire was like swallowing broken glass, but she had to consider the possibility.
“It’s been missing for a few days,” Noreen admitted.
“I’ve been so busy with the extra shifts at the hotel that I assumed I mislaid it somewhere.
I never considered someone might have taken it deliberately.
” She looked from Martha back to James. “I know I tend to ruffle feathers, but to think that someone committed such a heinous crime just to implicate me . . . It tears me up inside.”
James reached for her hand and clasped it tightly.
“Nothing that happened tonight can be laid at your feet, Noreen. Whoever did this, whatever their motive, it was their choice, their crime.” He pulled her hand up to his chest and held it against his heart.
“I’ll find the true culprit. I’ll interview everyone in Albany if I have to.
Not just to protect you but to protect the town.
There’s an arsonist out there. One who put his own agenda ahead of people’s safety.
I won’t let him get away with what he’s done. ”
“It could have been a woman.” Noreen hated the thought but needed to give it voice. James was right. More than her future hung in the balance. An arsonist on the loose posed a threat to the entire town.
“Can’t say that I’ve heard of many female arsonists, but you’re right. I shouldn’t make assumptions.” He raised her hand to his mouth and laid a quick kiss on her knuckles, not caring that she was covered in soot and grime. Not caring that someone might see.
Merciful heaven. How was she supposed to resist such a man?
Martha touched her other arm, drawing Noreen’s attention away from James. “I’ll let Jane know what happened. We can make inquiries as well.” She raised her chin and peered at James. “Women might be more willing to speak to another woman than a lawman.”
He nodded without hesitation. “Good thinking. Just be sure to keep me updated on what you learn. Easier to put a puzzle together when you’ve got all the pieces.”
“I will.” Martha turned her attention back to Noreen. “Would you like me to walk you back to the boardinghouse?”
“I’ll see her home,” James said. “I doubt Taggert will try anything, but I’ll feel better walking her to her door just in case.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “If that’s all right with you.”
A strong, independent woman would see herself home.
That’s what she’d believed for years. That it was weak to lean on a man.
To lean on anyone, really. If a woman wished to be considered a man’s equal, she must prove herself capable, cunning, and courageous.
Yet the society had taught her that she was stronger when she wasn’t alone.
And in the dimness of predawn, when shadows outnumbered stars, alone was the last thing she wanted to be.
Noreen dipped her chin. “Yes, thank you.”
James smiled, pleasure lighting his eyes and banishing all the dreary seriousness of the last half hour. Her heart expanded at the visual reminder that joy persisted, even in the midst of trials.
A loud clanking sound had all three of them turning in time to spy Connor Reed dropping a collection of water buckets on the pile of those that had been left behind.
The young man waved to them. “These are the pails left from the rear water line. I figured it’d be easier to add them to main pile.”
Martha walked over to join him. “Very thoughtful of you, Mr. Reed. Thank you.” She picked out the two items she’d brought with her, then glanced back to Noreen. “You know what Jane would say.”
Noreen grinned, hearing her friend’s soft-spoken voice in her mind. “The Lord has a plan.”
“And with God all things are possible.” Martha came alongside her and squeezed her arm. “We’ll get through this, Noreen. Together.”
“Together.” She was really coming to appreciate the beauty of that word.
Martha moved off in the direction of her home near the schoolhouse while Noreen and James collected their respective buckets and headed down Main.
Neither of them spoke much as they walked, weariness slowing their steps.
She couldn’t even find the energy to fret over her predicament.
Perhaps having her hand tucked into the crook of James’s arm helped her release the worry.
Or maybe she was finally learning to let go of her need to control everything and trust the Lord to provide.
Heaven knew she couldn’t control this situation, even if she wanted to.
Every aspect of it was out of her hands.
As they neared the boardinghouse, a movement on the front porch had James releasing his hold on her in order to move his hand to his gun.
“You get that fire put out, Deputy?” Mrs. Barker rose out of her rocking chair, and James moved his hand away from his holster.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s safe to go on back to bed.”
“Good. I’ll expect Miss O’Sullivan to follow me inside directly.”
Noreen chuckled softly. No one could accuse her landlady of subtlety.
James winked, his own amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
Noreen moved to the porch steps, placed her hand on the railing, then stopped. “James?”
He closed the distance between them with one long stride. “Yes?”
“Thank you for believing in me tonight.”
He cupped her face and ran his thumb along her cheek. Her breath caught at the tenderness of his touch, and her eyes fluttered closed. “Always,” he said, the low rumble of his voice rolling through her until it reached her heart and made itself at home.
“No matter what happens with the investigation,” she murmured, her eyes opening to peer into his, “know that I believe in you, too.”
And love you with all my heart.
The words begged for release, but she held them back, not wanting to burden him with the weight of them. He put enough pressure on himself already. When her name was cleared, she’d speak them. And if her name wasn’t cleared? Well, some truths were less painful when left unspoken.