Chapter Five
The rain finally fizzled out as Beth trudged back to the Astor yet again. Birds cawed in the distance, out for their post-rain worm and bug hunt. The sun wasn’t out, though. It looked like it might not appear before dusk. Already the western mountains were fading into the gloom.
Fortunately, the mud wasn’t deep enough to be slippery. It clung to her shoes, which just made her wish for good boots. But she stepped carefully. No point in slipping and getting mud everywhere else.
She grimaced. Three people were dead and she was worried about mud. She couldn’t help rolling her eyes at herself.
To her surprise, the soldiers were gone when she came in sight of the Astor. Long shadows filled the space under the balcony and nothing else.
Her gut tightened. She scanned the area—nothing.
No one.
Her breath quickened and she picked up her pace.
She let out a sigh of relief when she reached the door and heard multiple voices inside. She composed herself and strode in. The parlor bustled with people. Only the soldiers were gone.
A dozen of the town’s merchants, stable owners, and even Boggs the blacksmith sat at scattered tables. He looked up from his deep conversation and gave her a grim smile. Short and squat with bulging muscles, he once again reminded her of a troll. Not that she’d say so. He might not hit a girl, but the last man to call him a troll hadn’t walked for a week.
Meanwhile Rose bustled from table to table with a frazzled look in her eye. She dropped off plates and picked up empty ones. She gave Beth a quick pleading glance before one of the merchants asked her for something.
“Ah, Miss Armstrong.” Beth turned to see Mr. Lake beckoning from a nearby table. “Miss Chamberlin could use your assistance. We have a number of customers tonight.”
“Mr. Dooley’s been murdered,” she blurted.
He paled.
“The killers were looking for something.” She briefly recounted what she’d found, and then backed up and told him about what had happened when she’d been viewing the bodies. When she got to the part with Jeb, she glanced over at his table. The old miner was chewing some bread at the table where she’d left him.
“This is bad,” Mr. Lake said. “Very bad.” He gestured at the room. “Colonel Mosby wants provisions and supplies so he can ride out the day after tomorrow. Every able-bodied man who can is to go with them.”
“So?”
“We can’t rely on the army.” He picked up a fork and tinked it against his glass. The conversation in the room died as he stood.
“Gentlemen,” he said loudly, “there’s been another killing. We need to find the culprits now. Let’s gather outside.”
She started to head toward the door when Mr. Lake put his hand on her arm.
“Thank you, Miss Armstrong,” he said. “We’ll take it from here. Why don’t you see what help Miss Chamberlin might need?”
He gave her a pointed look and her objections died on her lips.
Beth waited for Rose in the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled at the savory smell of the stew on the iron stove. The cook only gave her a brief smile before he returned to chopping potatoes. She took a moment to pour herself a drink of water from one of the pitchers sitting on the side table. She sipped slowly to help calm herself down.
Rose bustled in breathlessly with an armful of dirty plates. “What’s going on, dearie? You said there was a murder?”
Beth reached for the dishes. “The mortician, Mr. Dooley, was murdered. I found the body.”
Rose stopped in her tracks and nearly dropped everything. Beth caught the plates just in time and only a wayward fork bounced off the floor.
“Murdered?” Rose said wide-eyed.
“Mmmm hmmm.” Beth’s expression soured. “I found the body, but Mr. Lake doesn’t want me involved.”
“Probably best you aren’t,” Rose said. She gestured toward the stove. “Help me fill the soup bowls while we talk? I also need more beer.”
“But I am involved,” Beth said as she pulled clean bowls out of the cupboard. “They killed him because they wanted something Raven had. And I was helping her.”
“All the reason to let the men catch the murderer for you.”
“If they can. They don’t know who they’re looking for.”
“And you do?” Rose thrust a full bowl of stew into Beth’s hands. “Here. Table Four. See if they need more beer while you’re there, please.”
Beth gave her an exasperated scowl, but Rose just smiled and shook it off. She nodded with her head toward the parlor. “Please?”
Beth glanced down. Her new dress had bunched around her hips underneath the gun belt, which revealed the lower half of her trousers. “I’m not appropriately attired for serving.”
“Mr. Lake’s left, and hungry men won’t mind.” Rose picked up two bowls. “And the sooner they’re fed, the sooner we can talk in private.”
Beth glanced at the cook, who remained hunched over, studiously ignoring them. She took the bowl and headed for the parlor.
She found the old miner Jeb hunched over his stew. He ate greedily and stuffed a heel of bread into his mouth between each spoonful of broth. He gave her a wide-eyed grin and watched her as she served the other tables. His eyes didn’t leave her. He even spilled a little stew down his chin and unconsciously wiped his face with his hand.
She bristled and her right arm tensed. Since she was holding the stew, she couldn’t rest her hand on her gun.
He’s harmless, she told herself. He’s just looking.
But why me? I’m not Rose.
At least he was polite, compared to the teamsters from the day before.
None of the other men in the parlor gave her more than a quick glance. They remained buried in their conversations and their plans with only the briefest attention to their food.
Since many had already left, the remaining service went quickly. Beth managed to steal a few minutes to wolf down some bread and stew of her own. Then she cleared and wiped down tables while Rose politely inquired if those left wanted more stew, or perhaps a little beer to wash down their meal?
Fortunately, other than Jeb, few seemed prone to linger. Within an hour, only the old miner remained.
“I should talk to him,” she told Rose quietly as they wiped down a table two merchants had lingered at, discussing the price of feed.
“He does seem smitten with you.”
Beth grimaced. “He’s old enough to be my grandpa.”
“Oh, honey, it’s not like he’s courting you. I’m sure he’s just enjoying the attention of a pretty young woman.”
“Well, I hope he can remember more about those cowboys. He’s the only one that’s seen them.”
“I’ll bring some tea.” She held out her hand for Beth’s cleaning rag and gave her a friendly smile. “Go on.”
Beth let out a resigned breath. Then she went to Jeb’s table. He dabbed some loose crumbs from his chin as she came over. His eyes danced.
“May I join you?” she asked once she’d reached his side.
“Oh, yes. Oh, yes.” He started to stand, but she pulled out her own chair before he could. He slid back down into his seat, but almost bounced with energy.
“How was the stew?” she asked. “Filling?”
“Oh, mighty filling. Mighty filling.” He grinned at her. “And I do thank you. I do.”
“Happy to help,” she said as sweetly as she could muster. “But … I was hoping you’d be able to help me in return.”
“Why anything, missy. Anything. Whatever do you need?”
She took a deep breath. “I need to know more about the cowboys,” she said. “The ones you saw running.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, “oh, yes. They was in a mighty hurry, a might—”
“Toward the battlefield,” she interrupted. “Yes, but what did they look like?”
“Cowboys,” he said with a shrug. “Big coats. Hats. They was running. Hard to see much.”
“Were they carrying anything? Did they have guns out?”
He sucked on his lip for a minute as he thought. Then he shook his head. “Nah. The big one yelled at the other one about it.”
She snapped up and looked at him, but Jeb remained deep in thought.
“What’d he say?” she asked quietly. “Exactly? What were his exact words?”
Jeb scrunched up his face. He wiggled his nose. Then he scratched it before nodding.
“He said, ‘You fool! How could you not bring the gun?’”
Hmmm, Beth thought. Mr. Dooley was shot less than an hour later. Where’d they get the gun? Or was it someone else?
“Did the other cowboy reply?” she asked.
“No,” Jeb shook his head. “He just ran along. Ran along after the big one.” He shook his head once more. “That’s all, I’m afraid. That’s all.”
“Well then,” Beth said, “are you about ready for that walk back to your shack? I’m sure the cook would be happy to help you on your way.”
“That’d be mighty nice,” he said with a grin broad enough to swallow the sun. “Mighty nice.”
The cook refused to escort Jeb to shantytown. He’d worked all day. It was already getting dark. He was tired. He was done. He was going home. He was even immune to Rose’s charm and said they’d just have to find someone else. He walked out the kitchen’s back door without even a glance back at the two women.
Beth sighed and leaned back against the prep table. She first ran her hands along the edge to make sure it was clean and she wouldn’t dirty her dress. But when the handle of her gun bumped the table, she stood back up straight.
Rose’s eyes followed her moves and danced with amusement. She stood in the center of the kitchen, and despite the frenzied dinner service, only her apron showed obvious stains.
“It’d be easier if he’d let me take him,” Beth groused. “But he says, ‘It wouldn’t be right.’”
“He could go by himself,” Rose said.
“I don’t want him to end up like Mr. Dooley.”
“Then have him stay here. Lieutenant Tompkins is passed out in Room Three. If Jeb slept on the floor of his room, he should be safe.”
“Hmmm,” Beth said. “Wouldn’t the lieutenant mind?”
“We won’t know until we ask.” Rose grinned. “And if we can’t ask, because he’s asleep, then he won’t mind.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Only one way to find out.” Rose gestured toward the door.
They waved at Jeb as they passed through the parlor. He gave them a little wave in return and then sipped on his bottle. Rose shot Beth an amused look, but Beth just shook her head with a wry smile. Jeb would be happy whatever they did, she was sure.
Beth followed Rose up the narrow stairs and down the short hallway to Room Three. They paused outside and Rose leaned her ear against the door. Then she knocked lightly.
“Lieutenant Tompkins?” When no answer came, she knocked a little harder. “Lieutenant?”
A muffled voice called out, but they couldn’t make out the words. Rose knocked again. The resulting yell was also unintelligible. Rose knocked once more, with even more force.
The door snapped open. A bleary, disheveled Lieutenant Tompkins glared at them. His mussed hair stood straight in places. His untucked shirt hung half-buttoned. He pressed one hand to the side of his temple. He leaned his other on the doorjamb, as if bracing himself against a fall. He looked hungover beyond hungover.
“What is it?” he snapped.
“We need your help,” Beth said without preamble. “The mortician’s been murdered. Raven and Mr. Weatherby’s bodies were searched. The army’s about to move out to fight the trolls—”
“Wait. What?” He shook his head and blinked hard.
“Oh, do sit down, Lieutenant,” Rose said. “I’ll fetch you some water and dry bread.”
He grimaced. “I’d rather have some ‘hair of the dog.’”
She tsked and shook her head with a smile. “Go on. Sit down, please.”
The lieutenant opened the door wider. He staggered back to the unkempt bed and sat down on the edge. Beth entered and stood a few feet away, rocking on the balls of her feet, while Rose headed back to the kitchen.
Lieutenant Tompkins rubbed his eyes and then gave her a bleary stare.
“Murdered?” he said.
“Yes.” She gave him an abbreviated version of what she’d seen and heard, only omitting Raven’s ghost and the little pouch.
“They were looking for something,” he said. “Something important.”
“Yes. But what?”
He clasped his hands to his temples and rested his elbows on his knees. A strand of hair flopped across his forehead.
“Maybe …” he started to say. Then he shook his head, but winced. He groaned and held his head tighter.
Rose returned. She held a ceramic mug, which she promptly thrust at the lieutenant. “It’s nothing but water, but it’ll help.”
He took it with a skeptical look, but drank. After a couple of deep swallows, he lowered the cup and studied its rim.
“Oh. I can’t believe I forgot this,” he said. He looked up at them. “Raven once said that if anything happened to her, I was supposed to take this little pouch she wore and give it to another shaman. She never said why, though.”
“Little pouch?” Rose asked. “What’s it look like?”
“This.” Beth pulled the pouch out of her pocket and held it up.
“Oh, my,” Rose said.
“That’s it,” Lieutenant Tompkins said. He lowered his hands to his lap and sat up straighter. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“What’s in it?” Rose asked.
Beth shrugged. She stepped closer to Lieutenant Tompkins so he could see and started to undo the ties. Rose looked over her shoulder.
The pouch held a small nub of polished bone.
Beth dumped it out into her palm and studied it. It was cool and smooth and no bigger than the last bone of her pinky, or maybe her little toe. She turned it over but found nothing different on the backside.
“A bone?” Rose asked. “Why was she carrying that?”
Beth’s skin prickled as the room suddenly cooled.
“I think I know,” she said.
She looked up into the smiling face of Raven’s ghost.