Chapter 34
Sheriff Earl Hanson stopped by the schoolhouse on Sunday morning to check on the fine horse that stood, unhitched, in front of the building. A man had to be impressed by the animal’s training and character. Very few remained in place without an owner in sight. That this one did was something special.
The smoke rising from the chimney on this day also intrigued him. Miss Bloom didn’t often keep Sunday hours in the schoolroom. And with the state of her health, he expected she would be resting in that snug home of hers.
He had considered telling her that the Christmas program didn’t have to go on if she felt too poorly. Land sakes, the woman had fallen on her head, nearly frozen to death in a snowstorm, been tossed into a root cellar in her undergarments while he and his men tamped down some liquored-up ranch hands, and, to top it off, she had been assaulted on Wylder Street in broad daylight.
Even battered and broken, her spirit seemed indestructible. Still, perhaps they owed it to the new educator to give her a pass on this holiday event. Hard enough to find a decent schoolteacher willing to come all the way out west. It would be a damn shame if they killed this one before her first year was up.
He entered the schoolhouse without bothering to knock.
The space had been transformed into a winter wonderland.
Colorful garlands were strung along every wall. Decorated pinecones dangled from ribbons.
Two tables were angled in one corner. Folded lengths of fabric rested on their polished tops, ready to be spread out so food would show to its best advantage.
A tree, still undecorated, waited in another corner. Beside it, a wooden riser where the children would perform, he supposed. And on the other side of the Christmas tree, in a place of honor, a high-backed wooden chair. Santa’s throne, just waiting for its special visitor.
What caught his attention weren’t the decorations or even the festive atmosphere. They were all well and good, but they weren’t what most interested the lawman.
There were three people in the room. None had sensed his presence yet, so he freely studied them without their knowledge.
A stranger who moved with a slight stiffness in his shoulder banged a nail into the wall above the ladies’ heads in the far corner. The sheriff had enough of his own aches and pains to recognize when a man pushed past a twinge. Probably responsible for the horse waiting outside.
Miss Bloom stood near the man. She pointed with her left hand to a spot high on the wall, to where the nail went into wood.
A third person occupied the room, a trim woman who held a paper garland in her hands. She didn’t speak but he didn’t need to hear her to see the truth.
The schoolteacher had lied to him. She was in cahoots with the Chinese woman he had been searching for.
“Well, if this isn’t a right interestin’ holiday scene.”
The women whirled to face him with shocked—and, he noted, frightened—expressions on their faces.
The stranger gave the nail a last whack before he turned. When no one replied, he looked from one woman to the other before his friendly smile turned hard.
The sheriff held up a hand and pulled his dark blue bandana away from his coat so the newcomer caught sight of his badge. Then he pushed his jacket back and put his hands on his hips, revealing the two revolvers he wore. No need for any trouble. Not on a Sunday morning, with two women present, in the schoolhouse. He watched as the man’s gaze lowered, then rose back to meet his. A quick nod, and the man brought both hands into plain sight.
He turned his attention on the schoolteacher. “Miss Bloom, I believe we have some talking to do, don’t you?”