Chapter 19 #2
The laughter erupted again. As curious as she was, she didn’t have time for lessons in seduction.
“Thanks,” she said. “But I really need to know if you remember anything about Edwin’s appearance that can prove the man at the undertakers isn’t him.
Did he have any birthmarks anyone can remember? Or distinct features?”
“He liked to shave his cock hairs off.”
Laughter filled the room again when someone said, “He thought it made his Willie look longer.”
“Well, I’m not sure how useful that is. Any number of men may do that. It doesn’t prove anything. Besides, it could have grown back by now.”
They all start throwing out ideas again, most of them more comical than anything. She’d been told most of her life to not mix company with undesirable women but she had to admit, she hadn’t laughed so much in longer than she could remember.
“He has a freckle!” Everyone stilled when a blonde pipped up. She grinned and said, “Near the base of his pecker, he has a freckle or mole or something. I saw it once right after he’d shaved his pubes off.”
A tiny girl with dark hair nodded her head. “Oh yeah, now that you mention it, I remember seeing that too.”
Violet listened to them confirm the freckle, and she thanked them for their time. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was better than nothing.
They left the saloon, Bonnie telling her she needed to get back to check on Archie, and she said her goodbyes before heading back to the jail.
One of the men that had come with the sheriff to take Josiah from the hotel was at the desk when she walked in.
He barely gave her a glance before looking back down at whatever he was reading.
She hurried across the room to the cell they had Josiah in.
He was still shirtless and his whiskers were starting to show.
It was no wonder. It had been a long day so far, and she wasn’t even sure he’d shaved that morning.
She’d left their room right after the sun rose in order to go talk to Edwin, so she hadn’t been there to see if he had.
“Violet, you don’t need to be here.”
“I know.” She gripped the bars and lowered her voice. “I saw Edwin’s body.” He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “It's not him, Josiah.”
He paused a moment before saying, “What makes you think that?”
“Well, his face was pretty mangled, but his clothes don’t fit right.”
He raised an eyebrow at her before sighing. “You shouldn’t have looked at him like that, Violet. And I don’t think the man’s clothing not fitting is enough for the sheriff to drop murder charges against me.”
“Probably not, but I do have a lead.” She looked over her shoulder at the deputy before lowering her voice again. “Bonnie and I went to the saloon.”
He blinked. “You what?”
“We went to the saloon.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but she talked over him and blurted, “It seems as if Edwin was a regular and I may have a way of identifying him.”
“What way?”
She blushed before even opening her mouth. “Well, a few of the girls said he had a freckle.”
“A freckle?” He huffed out a laugh. “Most people have freckles.” He reached through the bars and ran the tip of his finger over her nose.
“Not that kind of freckle,” she grinned. “A freckle…down there.” She looked at his crotch.
He still, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Down where?”
The gleam in his eye made her think he knew exactly what she meant, but wanted to hear her say it.
“Next to his—member.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve heard it called many things, but that's a new one on me.”
She grinned and gripped the bars. “He shaves—down there—and has a freckle. We just need to get someone to check for it and prove that isn’t Edwin and you’ll be out of here by nightfall.”
“You’re assuming a freckle is enough to convince the sheriff.”
“Well, if it isn’t, I’ll think of something else. I’ll go find that preacher if I have to knock on every door in this town and ask every person I see.”
“I don’t want you doing all that, Violet. It’s too much.”
“It might be, but if I don’t prove you didn’t kill Edwin, who will?”
The front door opened as she spoke, and the sheriff grinned as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you a Pinkerton Detective now, Mrs. Lincoln?”
Mrs. Lincoln?
It was the first time anyone had ever addressed her as such and the euphoria it left behind was enough for her to ignore the smug tone in the sheriff's voice.
She recapped what she’d told Josiah, and the sheriff was as skeptical as Josiah had been. It took nearly twenty minutes of arguing to convince him to send someone over to the undertakers to check it out.
Josiah got her attention again and told her to head back to the hotel.
Thinking of the last time they were there, she blushed, especially when she looked at his naked chest. He still didn’t have a shirt on.
“I’ll go grab your boots and a clean shirt and bring them back to you. Do you need anything else?”
“Just for you to be safe, so stop running around town and go get some rest. Have you eaten at all since this morning?”
No, she hadn’t. She agreed to do so and gave him another kiss before leaving, but she had more important things to do than eat. She had to find that preacher and find him now.
Josiah watched Violet leave, followed by the sheriff, before returning to his cot. He laid down and stared at the ceiling like he’d been doing since getting thrown into the cell.
His worry had only grown throughout the day.
The deputies had thought he was asleep earlier, and he’d overheard their whispered conversation.
They wanted him strung up and hanged. The sooner the better.
It wasn’t even for Edwin and the justice a murdered man deserved.
No, it was for the excitement. The men working for the sheriff weren’t the type of men who needed to be deputies.
Their enthusiasm gave him a whole new set of worries. What would happen to Violet if he hanged for a murder he didn’t commit? Would she be able to make it back home safely?
He needed to get word back to Silver Falls and have Tanner come fetch her. Or at least stay in town to watch over her if she refused to leave until all of this was over, which he feared she would do. She was too determined to clear his name to leave, but he could still send for Tanner.
Maybe he could help Violet in some way. If Edwin was indeed not the man at the undertakers, as Violet so adamantly declared, then where was he? Why was the man found in the mercantile wearing his clothes and have his belongings?
Was it possible Edwin had faked his own death? And if so, why? Was it because of the men the sheriff claimed were doing back door deals with Edwin behind the mercantile?
Who were they, and how did they play into all of this?
Was whatever they’d been up to enough to make Edwin want to disappear?
He seemed desperate enough. The way he pursued Violet and tried so hard to get her to marry him told him he was desperate about something. The “why” was the important part. They needed a motive for his behavior to sort out the rest, which was hard to do behind bars.
He glanced at the lone deputy in the office. His feet were propped on the desk, his hat pulled down over his eyes. Napping, if he had to guess.
Climbing to his feet, he approached the bars and said, “I need to get word back home. Can you send a telegram to Silver Falls for me?”
The man blew out a long breath. Not asleep, then. He was slow to move, but finally lifted his hat from his face and lowered his feet to the floor. When he met his gaze, he looked irritated at being interrupted.
“You have money to pay for a telegram?”
“Yes.”
The deputy shuffled around on the desk and finally picked up a pad of paper and a pencil and carried it across the room to him. Josiah jotted down his message for Tanner and handed it back before fishing the money for the telegram out of his pocket.
When the man left, he went back to his cot. He’d have another talk with the sheriff when he returned and ask him about the men Edwin was hanging around with.
In the meantime, he hoped Violet had done as he suggested and went back to the hotel, but something told him she hadn’t. She was too determined to clear his name and he couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love with her for that.
No one had ever fought for him. Not even Ruth when her family protested her marrying a lawman. She’d just agreed to it without their blessing, which left a really sour taste in his mouth once she’d died.
They blamed him for her death, and it was his fault, in part. But she’d been too trusting, and it had been her downfall. And his.
He’d lived for years alone and had been determined to remain that way, but had to admit, Violet had been right. He couldn’t blame himself for Ruth’s death forever or shut the world out around him. Life was meant to be lived and once this mess was all sorted, he intended to do just that.