“But as yet, neither you nor Olney have a clue what he looks like,” Jeff pointed out. “Olney was under the misguided idea that it was me, but that assumption might have come about because the murderer brought Nell out after she had gone into my bedroom supposedly to have a talk with me. Olney said the man was tall, dark-haired and dressed in evening garb, which at the time fit my description. How are you going to find a man like that among all the people living here in Charleston when I can’t even tell you which of my guests matched that report that night?”
Rhys pursed his lips and blew out a long breath as he pondered that question. “That, Jeffrey me dearie, as our friend, Farrell, would say, is a matter that would snarl any cat’s tail.”
A knock on the door prompted Rhys to lift a hand to urge Raelynn back into her seat. “No doubt that’ll be Charlie wanting to tell me those folks out there are getting a little anxious to see me do my duty.”
Pushing himself to his feet, he moved from his chair and went into the front hall where he opened the door. “Yeah, Charlie?”
“Sheriff, Olney is gettin’ those folks out there riled up. Ye want me ta gag him or somethin’?”
Rhys muttered a curse beneath his breath and, in an impatient tone, bade, “Tell ’em to hold on to their shirttails, Charlie. Mr. Birmingham and I are coming out shortly.”
Returning to stand beside his chair, he faced Jeff directly. “We’d better be going now or Olney will have that crowd out there storming this place.”
“Why in the devil did you bring that scamp along with you, Rhys?” Jeff asked in vexation. “You should’ve known he’d make trouble.”
“Well, as usual, Charlie took his own sweet time about repairing a few things around the office. This time it just happened to be the new cell doors that were supposed to be put on several days ago. He’ll have to get that chore done as soon as we get back so we won’t have Olney disappearing on us again. As long and as hard as I’ve been chasing after that rascal, I don’t want him slipping through my fingers again.”
Leaving the settee, Jeff approached the sheriff and reluctantly stretched forth his wrists. “Those people out there will expect to see me in shackles, Rhys. You’d better do your duty.”
The lawman snorted. “I’ve got news for ’em, Jeffrey me boy. They’re not going to see it, at least not while I’m sheriff.”
“I’ll get my wrap,” Raelynn choked, struggling hard not to break down as she moved around the table.
Jeff faced her and shook his head, causing his wife to look at him in stunned disbelief. “I don’t want you to come out with me, Raelynn. There’s no telling what that crowd may be tempted to do once they see me, and I don’t want you getting hurt. Please, for my sake, just stay in here where you’ll be safe.”
Her eyes grew bright with brimming tears in the midst of their doleful pleading. “But, Jeffrey, I want to be with . . .”
“No, my love, I cannot allow it,” he stated, his own voice fraught with emotion. “You’re staying here inside the house where you’ll be safe, and that’s final.”
Rhys cleared his throat uncomfortably as Raelynn, blinded by the wetness welling upward over her lashes, stumbled toward the dining room. Jeff muttered a curse, annoyed by the whole situation, especially by the fact that he had to leave his wife alone in the house with no greater protection than Tizzy and Jake. He followed her to the adjoining room and, as he came up behind her, laid an arm around the small of her back as he swept her far beyond the door to a spot where Rhys couldn’t see them. Turning her about to face him, he crushed her to him as his lips plummeted down upon hers. Her lips tasted salty from her tears, but they parted eagerly beneath his ravaging mouth and questing tongue. She answered him with a zeal to match his own, and soon she was straining up against him as if beset with a desire to become totally merged with him in both body and spirit.
When Jeff finally drew away, Raelynn’s limbs were shaking uncontrollably and seemed incapable of providing her support. Weakly she leaned against him and squeezed her eyelids tightly closed, causing tiny rivulets to spill freely down her soft cheeks. His lips pressed against her brow for a long moment until he heard her sniff, and then, with a tender smile, he stepped back and fished into his trouser pocket for a clean handkerchief. Like a father with a child, he dried her eyes and gently bade her to blow her nose. She complied and looked up at him through a blur of fresh tears.
“I’ll get your coat,” she muttered thickly. “It has turned nippy outside.”
Some moments later, Sheriff Rhys Townsend escorted his lifelong friend down the front walk, out through the white gate and toward the waiting wagon. Most of the rabble were strangers to both Rhys and Jeff. If their clothes were an indication, then they were from the poorer section of town, which left open the possibility that at least some might have been paid to come out as part of a vigilante group. They harassed the sheriff in sneering tones, accusing him of favoring his rich friends and taking sides against an ordinary working man like Olney. As for Jeff, they were not above calling him names like “child-molester” and “filthy murderer” and spitting at him as he passed. Beneath their hateful, jeering slurs, even his deeply bronzed face darkened to a ruddy hue.
Raelynn stood at the window, making no effort to restrain the flood of tears streaming down her cheeks and along the pale column of her throat. Well over a month ago she had been dismayed by the sheriff’s lack of action in arresting her husband. Now she was filled with a burgeoning resentment that he had allowed this particular situation to occur. He had literally been forced to arrest Jeff in spite of the fact that he believed him innocent of the crime.
When Jeff reached the wagon, Olney was already sitting in its bed under the watchful eye of the deputy who perched on a side rail. Although Jeff sought to join Olney in the back, Rhys promptly summoned him to the front of the buckboard, a seating arrangement that gained more sneers and catcalls from the crowd.
“Ye gonna let him go as soon as ye get him outa town, Sheriff?” a deep voice heckled from the crowd as the sheriff climbed into the buckboard.
At this taunting, Rhys slowly turned to scan the faces of the people who were closing in around the conveyance. He met many eye to eye. “You think you’ve forced my hand to arrest a murderer,” he rumbled, gaining their silence. “Well, you’re wrong. I’m merely making sure Jeffrey Birmingham comes to no harm from you or others like you. I don’t think he’s guilty of Nell’s murder . . .” Sudden jeers prompted Rhys to lift a hand to halt the interruption. Though some were still muttering, he continued speaking, forcing them to fall silent. “In time, you’ll be able to recognize that what I now say is true, but until then, mark my words well. If you should cause anything of a violent nature to happen here in this neighborhood or anyplace else in this city tonight, I’ll be coming after you. I’ve seen your faces, and I’ll hunt you down to the last man if need be. I won’t abide a lynch mob taking control of either this city or this matter. I’ve already sent for reinforcements from neighboring towns to guarantee that law and order is respected here.” His gaze swept the uplifted faces. “You think you’re right, but I know you’re wrong, and I’m going to make every effort to prove that in the next several days. Until then, I’d suggest you take my warning. My friend, Jeffrey Birmingham, has never killed anyone . . .” Rhys allowed the silence to drag on a lengthy moment for emphasis before he smiled tersely and completed his statement, “. . . but I have.”
As Rhys sat down beside Jeff on the front seat and took the reins in his hands, Charlie settled into the bed of the wagon beside Olney. He had no complaints with the sheriff; he had learned years ago that people were better off not getting into a squabble or trying to butt heads with Rhys Townsend. The man had his own way of doing things, and for some strange reason, they always seemed to turn out right.
22
COOPER FRYE BRACED A SHOULDER AGAINST THE heavy wooden plank and shoved through the main door of Gustav Fridrich’s warehouse. He saw the German immediately on t
he far side of his office, sitting behind his massive desk where he could usually be found nowadays. His lame arm apparently had made him reluctant to endure the tawdry surroundings and noisy bedlam of the cat houses where on a frequent basis he had once been inclined to spend hours wallowing in prurient activities and women, in his case half a dozen at a time. The German’s wealth had bought the harlots cheaply enough, but it certainly hadn’t helped lately to ease his dark moods. Nevertheless, Frye had come for the specific purpose of relieving the man of a small measure of his riches.
The ice blue eyes lifted slowly from the ledgers and settled upon the Englishman. During his short association with the Englishman, Gustav Fridrich had at times found it amusing to hear what Cooper Frye had up his sleeve, for the man was immensely clever when his brain wasn’t pickled by hard liquor. He was also a crook through and through. Of that, there was no doubt. Gustav hadn’t forgotten that it had been Frye’s sly tricks that had cost him Raelynn and, in a roundabout way, the loss of his arm. One day he would make the Englishman rue his deception.
Leaning back in his massive chair, Gustav tapped the feathered end of his quill against the finely tooled leather surface of his desk as he smirked in wry amusement. “So, Cooper Frye, to vhat do I owe zhis occasion? I rarely zee yu zober, so it must be zomezhing important. Vhat iz it zhis time? Zomezhing different altogether? Or iz it money as usual? Zince zhat is nearly alvays zhe case, I can only vonder vhat yu’re villin’ to do for zome coins zhis time?”
Cooper settled himself without invitation into a chair across the desk from the German. “I’ve been keepin’ me ears open an’ stayin’ abreast o’ the happenin’s an’ goin’s on in an’ around Charleston. This very afternoon I heard Jeffrey Birmin’am had been arrested for Nell’s murder. Since he has, I thought ye’d feel obliged ta give me what ye promised the last time we talked.”
“For vhat?” Gustav demanded in wide skepticism. “Vhat haf yu done zhat iz vorth zhis interruption? Can yu not zee I am vorkin’ on my accounts? An’ yu should know from past experiences zhat I dislike being disturbed vhen I’m involved in my vork.”
Cooper gave the German a facial shrug. The man’s dislikes didn’t bother him overmuch. “If I hadn’t killed Nell, Jeffrey Birmin’am wouldn’t be in jail now, an’ as I remember it, ye promised me a thousand Yankee dollars if’n I’d cause a split betwixt me niece an’ that there fancy bloke she married.”
The German shot to his feet in rapidly rising fury and slammed his palm down flat upon his desk. “Yu are lyin’! I spoke vith Olney earlier. He told me zhat he saw Birmingham kill zhe girl, so vhat are yu trying to do? Claim my money for zomezhing yu did not do?”
Frye sneered in rank distaste at the mention of his rival’s name. That young scamp was always trying to undermine his efforts to get a few coins. “Olney is mistaken, as usual. Birmin’am didn’t kill Nell.”
Gustav’s eyes blazed as they met the man’s bland stare. “Vhy don’t yu tell me just vhat in zhe hell happened out zhere zhat night. I hear vone zhing from Olney. Now yu tell me another. I vant to know vhich vone of yu iz really lying and trying his best to cheat me.”
“I suppose I can appease yer curiosity,” Frye allowed. He had never liked Gustav, and if not for the man’s wealth, he’d have found a way to be free of the tyrant. “Ye sees, I gots wind that Olney was gonna take Nell out ta make a ruckus at Oakley durin’ the Birmin’am’s ball if’n my nephew by marriage didn’t cooperate, as it were. So’s I decided ta go have a looksee ’round ‘ere meself, ‘ceptin’ I hads me a foul time findin’ meself a horse, what wit’ all the liveries hired out ta escort guests ta the affair. Humph, by the time I arrived, the shindig was o’er. Still, I looked ’bout the place real careful wit’ a lantern burnin’ real low like, jes’ ta see what might o’ happened, an’ that’s when I come across Nell lyin’ wit’ a gut wound in a horse stall. There she was, just her an’ her babe. She was in pain, all right, but it ‘peared ta me like she was gonna make it through just fine once she got herself a li’l help from a doc.
“At first, I thought Olney mighta’ve stabbed her wit’ the knife I saw lyin’ nearby, but Nell told me some stranger had done it ta her. She said she’d gone lookin’ for Birmin’am ta warn him one last time ’bout the shame he’d suffer if’n he didn’t meet her demands. When she slipped inta his bedroom, she said it weren’t Birmin’am ‘ere atall, but a stranger who’d been pryin’ on a box on Birmin’am’s desk. Nell said she tried ta leave real quick like, but the bloke caught her, put a knife ta her throat an’ threatened ta slice it open if’n she screamed. After the rain, it was real muddy outside, an’ he didn’t want ta get his fancy shoes dirty, so’s he hauled her ta the bed an’ sat on her whilst he put on a pair o’ Birmin’am’s boots.”
“Vhy didn’t just he kill her in Herr Birmingham’s bedroom? He could haf saved himself a lot of bother.”
“What wit’ him bein’ a guest, I suppose he didn’t want a hew an’ cry made o’er her body whilst he was still in the house.”
Gustav thrust his chin out musefully as he considered the man’s conjecture. Then he waved his hand officiously. “Continue.”
“The fella took her out ta the barn an’ stabbed her. He was gonna knife her again, but accordin’ ta Nell, he heard a noise, an’ that’s when Olney ran out o’ the next stall. The gent raced after him, but Nell figgered Olney took off ’cause she then heard a clatter o’ hooves rattlin’ off inta the distance. The stranger came back ta see ’bout Nell, but she played real dead like. Guess he fell for her game, ‘ceptin’ she weren’t dead. That’s when I started thinkin’ ta meself. Here ye’d gone an’ promised me a thousand dollars ta split the newlyweds, an’ ‘ere a stranger were ta blame for it all. That’s when I decided ta finish Nell off meself.” He laughed shortly. “She screamed when she saw me intent, but it did her little good. Still, me timin’ was off a bit. I seen a lantern comin’ from the house an’ quickly snuffed out me own. I hide meself in another stall, an’ that’s when Birmin’am himself come out ta have a looksee ’round the barn, ‘ceptin’ he didn’t get no farther than poor Nell. She was still alive when he reached her, an’ she mewled on ’bout her lovin’ him an’ how sorry she was for e’er lyin’ ’bout him sirin’ her babe. A short time later, me niece come out searchin’ for him, an’ from the way things looked, she got it inta her head real fast like that Birmin’am had killed the girl, ’cause me niece went flyin’ back inta the house like someone had torched her petticoats.”
“So, Frye! Yu are satisfied zhat yu vere zhe vone vhat put a vedge between Birmingham and yur niece, except she vas in zhe same house vith him vhen I vent to Frau Dalton’s.”
“No matter that.” Frye waved his hand, dismissing the importance of that bit of information. “What matters is the fact that Nell would still be alive if’n ‘tweren’t for me, an’ Jeffrey Birmin’am wouldn’t be in prison now ’cause Nell would’ve told everybody he were innocent o’ stabbin’ her an’ gettin’ her wit’ child. She were kinda lovesick o’er that ‘ere rich gent, an’ ye can bet she wouldna’ve let him suffer more’n a day’s time in jail afore she’da’ve spilled out the truth, maybe e’en as ta how I’d put her up ta claimin’ Birmin’am as her kid’s pa.”
Gustav made no effort to hide the sneer in his tone as he voiced a conjecture. “I take it, zhen, zhat yu vant payment for vhat yu did.”
“A thousand Yankee dollars, just like ye promised, Mr. Fridrich. Otherwise, I’ll have ta send word ta the sheriff that me niece’s husband ain’t the bloke he wants, that he should be lookin’ for a fancy stranger who attended Birmin’am’s shindig.”
Gustav’s mouth twisted downward as he considered the Englishman’s threat. He had already given Olney ten thousand for Birmingham’s arrest, and that deed had been accomplished. Considering the unfavorable sentiment that event had already been evoked against his rival, Gustav had every hope that before too much time elapsed Jeffrey Birmingham would be hanged for Nell’s murder, which would leave Raely
nn a bereaved widow. Once that happened, then he’d be able to collect everything he wanted from her. However, Frye could muddle up everything before the hanging, but Gustav wasn’t about to stand for that.
“I vill pay yu zhe zhousand dollars to keep yur mouth closed, Frye,” Gustav agreed at last, bringing a cocky grin to the Englishman’s face. The German drew out a small strongbox from his desk, unlocked it, and counted out the necessary gold coins. “If I don’t give yu zhis, I know yu vell enough to be assured zhat yu vill keep yer threat and haf Birmingham set free.”
“His wife is me niece, after all, an’ as they say, blood is thicker’n water.” Frye collected the coins in a leather bag and then jauntily returned to the front portal, where, with a casual salute and a succinct smile, he took his leave.
“Damnation!” Gustav roared, slamming his fist down upon his desk. Pivoting about face, he stalked through the dark halls of his warehouse. “Vhere iz everybody? Morgan? Cheney? Muffat? Vhere are yu?”
No answer came, and he strode deeper into the structure until he could hear men grunting as they stacked wooden rifle boxes.
“Morgan, vhere are yu?”
“Here, sir, loadin’ the rifles like ye told us ta do for shipment upriver.”