No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(48)
Tori gave her an odd look. “No. Not for certain.” She stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea and two into Emma’s. “Flora and Esther usually work in the garden in the mornings, so I assume it was one of them.” She took up her cup and saucer, handed the second set to Emma, and led the way to the table and took a seat. “Could have been anyone looking out a window, though. The sight of two armed men firing weapons as they gallop through town is enough to frighten a scream out of even the stoutest female.”
Emma slid into the chair across from Tori’s and set her tea down untouched. “True enough. I screamed myself when they shot my window out.” She stared into the dark-colored liquid, a niggling thought bothering her. “But I thought the men had stopped shooting once they passed the bank. They seemed to have been taking direct shots only at Malachi.”
Tori’s brow wrinkled. “Hmm. That might be right.” She closed her eyes a moment, as if trying to re-create the scene in her mind. “I remember hearing the hooves not gunfire as they passed the store. I figured they were making a run for it. That’s when I turned to see what damage they’d left behind and saw Malachi taking aim.” Her eyes opened and her gaze peered straight into Emma’s. “The scream came from the opposite direction, from ahead of the riders.”
As if someone else had seen Malachi, and that someone had shouted a warning. Giving the outlaw a split second to dodge the shot and spare his life.
Or one of the women could have glanced up to find two riders bearing down on her, weapons drawn, and screamed out of pure fright.
Emma sighed. There was no way to know for certain which scenario was accurate. No way to judge if one of her ladies was guilty of collusion or simply afraid for her life. Emma picked up her tea and peered into the dark depths as if a solution might be hidden within. She blew gently across the surface, hoping to uncover some bit of wisdom in the process, but alas, inspiration failed to strike. Frowning, she placed her lips to the rim and took a sip.
“What aren’t you telling me, Em?”
Emma glanced up from her tea into her friend’s all-too-intelligent gaze. “Malachi thinks one of our ladies might be here under false pretenses. Might, in fact, be working with the shooter.”
Emma expected sharp denials or scoffing, but Tori gave her no such reaction. She simply took another sip of tea and pondered the notion for several long seconds.
“I suppose it’s possible,” she finally said. “It would explain how the fellow managed to plant those notes of his so close to town without anyone ever spotting him. A spy could have done it for him. Though I hate to think of one of our own being guilty of such a crime.”
“As do I.” Emma groaned softly. “I didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t. But when Mal failed to find any evidence of a man being around the church when the fire was set, I had to consider that he might be right.”
“That’s why you were watching the ladies at the meeting so closely today. You were judging their reactions to Malachi’s news that the shooters had escaped. Did you learn anything?”
Emma shook her head. “No. All I have is a pocketful of doubts and conjecture with no evidence to back it up.”
Tori slowly lowered her teacup, the china clinking delicately against the saucer. “Who do you suspect?”
Emma hesitated, debating whether or not to give Tori the names. She didn’t want to poison another mind against women who might very well be innocent. But there was a greater good at play here, too. And if ever a woman existed who could remain objective, it was Tori.
Having decided, Emma took a breath then took the plunge. “We’ve narrowed it down to three. Helen, Flora, and Claire.”
Tori glanced past Emma as if to look out the small window that allowed light into the dining area. “I saw Claire walk down to the boardinghouse before the shooting started, probably to collect Maybelle’s lunch.”
Which made sense. Mrs. Grimes, the proprietress, paid for her rheumatism treatment by supplying Maybelle with three meals a week.
“So Claire could have been the one to scream.”
Tori shrugged. “Or Flora. If she was in the garden. Of course, it could have been Esther or anyone else suddenly caught in the thick of things.”
“Ugh! I hate all this suspicion.” Emma shoved her tea away and fisted her hands on the tabletop. “It makes me feel like a traitor to the women who have put their trust in me.”
Tori reached across the table and laid her palm atop Emma’s fist. “You’re not the traitor, Em. The spy is. If she does indeed exist.”
“I know, but that doesn’t make my job any easier. What if she’s being coerced somehow? What if he’s forcing her to act against her will? If I discover who she is, what am I supposed to do? Have her arrested? Ban her from the colony? I can’t just abandon her if she’s in need. If she’s simply guilty of trying to survive the only way she knows how.”
“And that’s why God put you in charge.” Tori squeezed her hand, her eyes full of understanding. “You have compassion even on those who mean you harm. Me? I’d kick her out without a second thought. Anyone who would knowingly put my son’s life at risk, who would put their friends’ lives at risk, isn’t worthy of a second chance. I wouldn’t care about her reasons, her motivation. I’d just want her gone. But you?” She shook her head, the hint of a smile curving her lips. “Emma, you see people the way Jesus did. You bend down to wash their feet even when they have thirty pieces of silver jangling in their pocket.”