“Family?”
Roen nodded. “And neighbors. The entire neighborhood actually. But I can appreciate the bucolic charms of Frost Falls, and the quiet of the surrounding country.”
Ben chuckled. “You need to visit some of the ranches. There’s nothing quiet about bleating sheep and bellowing cattle.”
“I won’t have to take your word for it. It’s my intention to ride out to a few of the homesteads on Saturday. I’m taking Clay with me.”
“Then you cleared it with Lily.”
“That’s what I came here earlier to tell you. Just happenstance that I bumped into her. I spoke to her yesterday when the children, save for Lizzie, were in school. It required some convincing and reassurances, and she didn’t give me an answer until this morning when she sent Clay to my door. That was her way of telling me she is willing to let him try out the job. If Hannah had showed, it would have meant I’d have to find someone else.”
“I’ll be darned,” said Ben. “I reckon I can tell you now that I didn’t hold out much hope that you’d be successful, but I didn’t want to discourage you.”
“What you mentioned about Clay’s education, that was helpful. I think it may have been what swayed her to give her approval.”
“I’m glad to hear it, though I’m thinking you shouldn’t be too confident that you have her full approval. She has doubts. That’s why she was here earlier. She never mentioned that she’d already given you her permission. I didn’t press for more information than she was prepared to disclose. I gathered that you and she had had a conversation, but I figured it was preliminary. She had some questions about you, things she wasprobably thinking she should have asked before she sent Clay out this morning. That’s how I know now that she was entertaining doubts.”
“What kind of things did she ask?”
Ben set the coffee mug on his desk before he dropped his chair to all four legs. He stretched his legs, took the mug in hand again, and drank. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you. Basically she wanted a character reference. I reminded her I hadn’t known you but a few weeks and that we only crossed paths now and again, mostly about railroad business. She still wanted my impression, so I gave it to her.”
“She sets store by first impressions,” said Roen. “I have that from Clay.”
“I had a favorable one to give her. Told her you were a good tenant, that you spend a lot time in your office working because I could still see the lamps burning when Ridley and I were retiring for the night. I repeated some of what you told the council that she wasn’t there to hear. Information about you graduating from that technology school in Massachusetts and you being steadily employed by different railroad companies since you left. I thought that spoke to your independence and figured she’d appreciate that, her being independent herself.”
“Did she ask about my family?”
“Yes. But I could only tell her that your mother was a famous artist. Until you told me your family was loud and chaotic, I didn’t know anything else.”
“That’s fine. We’re very different, my family and me. Was there anything else?”
“I believe I mentioned that you weren’t a frequent visitor to the Songbird and that when you drank, it wasn’t to excess.”
Roen’s eyebrows puckered. “You and I have never been in the Songbird at the same time.”
Ben shrugged. “I asked around. There are things I like to know, too. If there’s trouble in town, it generally can be traced back to whiskey shots and beer chasers at the Songbird.”
“Not the Nightingale?”
“Oh, so you know about our brothel.”
“The first time I stepped foot in the Songbird, the owner made it a point to tell me things about Frost Falls that the council and Mrs. Springer did not.”
Ben flashed an uneven grin over the rim of his mug. “That’s sounds exactly like something Buzz Winegarten would do. And it’d tickle him to share that tidbit when he knows Amanda Springer would never. The two of them have a long history of trading barbs. She’s the head of the temperance movement, and he operates the saloon.”
“But that’s her husband that tends bar there, isn’t it? Or did I misunderstand?”
“Oh, no. You have it right. Another bone of contention. But in answer to your question about the brothel, I rarely get a summons to go there. I’ve learned that men tend to argue more over their drinks than they do their ladybirds, and Mrs. Morrison—God bless her—sees that it remains that way. She doesn’t suffer fools or foolery.”
Ben tipped back his mug and drank. When he’d finished off his drink, he returned the mug to his desk. “You sure I can’t get you a cup?”
“I’m sure.” Roen thought Ben might rise to pour himself another, but the sheriff stayed put. It would have been better if he had, for Roen found himself on the receiving end of the man’s considering gaze. Roen wondered if prisoners were subjected to the same stare and how quickly they confessed to real or even imagined crimes. He took the offense, inviting the question that Ben seemed to be formulating. “What is it you want to know?”
Except for a single arching eyebrow, Ben had no immediate response. He remained silent, thoughtful, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was taking measure of the man sitting opposite him. It was an effective prelude to interrogation, and it might have worked here if the door to his office hadn’t opened suddenly and produced his wife on the threshold.
Both men got to their feet as Dr. Ridley Madison walked determinedly into the room. Her take-no-prisoners entrance was a counterpoint to her petite and slender stature. She had a delicate build but strong features, with sharply intelligent brown eyes and a bold mouth, which was now set in a tight, straight line. Without a word in greeting, she set her medical bag and two packages wrapped in brown butcher’s paper on the long bench against the wall. Wanted notices were postedabove it. She gave them no attention. It was only when her hands were free that she turned to finally acknowledge that she was not alone.
“This is a stroke of luck that you are both here,” she said. “Please, sit. I fully intend to.”
