She forced a deep, slow breath. “I can.”
“Good, then when we get home, I want a full explanation. If what Officer Hall says is true, then we’ve got a big problem on our hands.”
Hopefully he’d never have to know how big it really was.
CHAPTER4
TENSION KNOTTED THE BACK OFAbraham’s neck as he trudged home in the dark from Dr. Pelton’s house. Informing the man that his daughter was at the station house wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d imagined. Dr. Pelton fully understood the seriousness of the situation even though Abraham had whitewashed the details of the night. Then, instead of threatening to have Abraham fired for not releasing the women, Dr. Pelton had thanked him, insisted on treating his monkey bites, and promised to commend him to Superintendent Carson. Not that Dr. Pelton’s influence would protect Abraham’s job. His choice to arrest Miss Pelton and Miss Plane would still come with consequences.
So would the fact the second burglar had evaded capture along with his stolen goods.
Abraham massaged the tightening muscles. A headache threatened.
More than likely, the rogue’s companions had aided him. Not that all circuses were spittoons of con artists and other criminals, but crime always increased whenever one rolled into town. Abraham just hadn’t expected the circus to be the victim of crime instead of the perpetrator.
The image of Lydia Pelton’s monkey-nested hair and wide, rich brown eyes set against a white-painted face flitted through his mind. What had possessed her to implement her friend’s outlandish scheme? She obviously wasn’t as zealous as her companion about saving the goat from “certain death.” Miss Pelton was a puzzle of conflicting traits. She’d behaved like a criminal one moment, then turned into a model citizen the next. The flirtation had been an unexpected twist to her solemn behavior. Either the turpentine had affected her brain or the woman suffered from multiple personalities. If the latter were the case, that would explain much.
Still, he hoped that Dr. Pelton wouldn’t commit Miss Pelton to Longview Insane Asylum after treating her hives. Abraham wasn’t sure how to accomplish it, but he’d like to know which Lydia Pelton was the real one. The one who was deeply ashamed of what she and her friend had attempted to do or the flirty criminal who batted her puffy red eyes?
When Abraham finally turned the key to his family’s home around three in the morning, all was dark inside. Mother, Father, and his younger brother and sister would have retired hours ago.
Or at least they should have.
A thin line of light shone from beneath his sister’s door across from his bedroom.
Oh, Clara. Not again.He shook his head as he knocked their secret code on her door. She needed to marry a man who either worked nights or tolerated a wife who read through the night. As it was, Mother and Father were so frustrated with their sleep-deprived bookworm, they were considering confiscating her books and banning her from the public library. Not that Clara wouldn’t sneak in visits whenever she could, but it would severely limit her reading time.
Clara opened the door and pulled him in with one hand. Her other hand stayed hidden behind her back, presumably holding her latest choice of adventure. She closed and leaned against the door. “Don’t make me go to bed. The hero is swimming across a swollen river to rescue the heroine. If I stop reading now, he might drown!”
“I don’t think your stopping will change how the story ends, Pages.” He tugged on the dark braid draped over the shoulder of her wrapper.
“How do you know? It might.”
At seventeen, she was too old to believe that, but he’d indulge her, just as he always did. “What’s the title? More than likely, I can tell you if he survives or not.” He tried to peek around her back, but she twisted away.
“But that will spoil the thrill!”
“Perhaps, but then you can go to bed and rest peacefully knowing that your hero will survive until morning, and that Mother and Father won’t empty your room of books. If you oversleep and miss helping Mother with the bakery again, you know they will.”
“But I won’t this time. I’m only fifteen pages from the end.”
“Sorry, Pages. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
He reached around her back and grasped the book. Rather than a thick cloth-bound cover typical of the classics, a thin leaflet with a paper cover met his touch. Clara wouldn’t, would she? He wrenched it away from her and frowned at the bright orange cover of a dime novel. There was a chance it was just a magazine that printed portions of treasured literature, but no Dickens, Austen, or Hawthorne graced the pages he thumbed through. It was one story, and—his attention caught on a passage describing a kiss—apparently a romance that no girl should be reading. When had Clara moved on from proper literature to this drivel?
“Where did you get this?”
Her chin jutted up. “From the newspaper stand while delivering bread to the Keppler Hotel.”
“Do Mother and Father know you’re reading this twaddle?”
“It’s not twaddle. It’s a moral tale of love, danger, and marriage.”
“Are they married when they kiss here?” He held it open to the kiss midway through.
“Don’t be prudish, Abraham. You’ve kissed a woman before, and you aren’t married.”
That was not the point. Putting false ideas of what romance and love entailed created unrealistic expectations for her future husband. “Men do not rescue their future wives from danger to prove their love or heroism. Nor do they have to be athletic, handsome, or secretly wealthy. If you keep reading that claptrap, it’s going to compromise your morality.”
