A Keeper For Christmas (Spinster Mail-Order Brides Book 12) Page 6

  Her eyes glistened at his words. Her lips stretched into a smile. “Your family is already precious to me.”

  “Only my family? What about your new husband?”

  The grin fled like lightning across the sky. “Him? I’m trying to figure him out.”

  Without removing his hand from her cheek or breaking eye contact, he leaned his right arm to the table and set the candle down. In the light flickering from the fireplace, he lowered his head. Firm lips met soft, yielding ones.

  Breaking off the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers. “It is our wedding night.”

  She didn’t answer. He felt her heart so near his speed up at those words. When she didn’t pull away from him, he circled her within his arms and kissed her coaxingly, tenderly as he walked them backward, toward the bed.

  -:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

  The smell of kerosene repelled her. As soon as she heard her husband’s key in the lock, she would throw the match out the bedroom window and close it. That should stop her from smelling the stuff. She’d already tossed the can as far as she could throw so it wasn’t in the room with her.

  Carl would be blamed. She would have him sent to prison for attempted murder. Elation at her cleverness set her feet dancing as she hugged herself. He would be trapped and she would be free!

  At the rattle of the front door’s lock, she struck the match and dropped it. Spasm of intense pleasure went through her middle as the flames licked the side of her home. Pulling her eyes away, she quietly lowered the window and moved on soundless feet back to the bed.

  Soon, her husband would come in and slip between the covers. He’d put his cold, damp feet on her just like every other night.

  She heard the crackle of the fire and seethed. Where was that man? Trust him to ruin her perfect plan. Bumbler that he was, he probably decided to sleep on the sofa so as not to disturb her. How inconsiderate!

  Knowing she’d have to raise the alarm herself, she shrieked. She jumped from the bed, moving so that the brass headboard hit the wall.

  “Fire! There’s a fire. I’m going to die!”

  Rather than running toward her, Cora heard footfalls race to the front door. From outside, she made out Ollie’s call. “Help! Fire!” So, he’d saved himself. Probably would use the excuse that he went for help.

  Years before, she’d chosen him because of the weakness she sensed. He would be manageable. Now, he’d nearly outlived his usefulness. Tonight had sealed his fate. She vowed to leave Idyll Wood as a grieving widow.

  Pulling on her robe and house shoes, she left the room and grabbed her wool coat before exiting their home. It was attached to the store. Chances are, without a thought for his wife, Ollie Olsen was making sure his goods didn’t burn.

  Outside, she began screaming. “Carl Sittig! I saw his face in the window. Then flames shot up the side of the house! Carl Sittig tried to kill me!”

  The sheriff stepped out of the crowd gathered to pass buckets. Another man took his place in the line as he moved to her.

  “Now, Mrs. Olsen, calm yourself. You’re safe!” He put a hand to her arm and she shook it off.

  “I should know you wouldn’t arrest your brother.” She broke down, sobs punctuating each word. “Justice! I want justice!”

  Murmurs went through the crowd. Cora heard whispers of “mad” and “crazy” as she kept her head lowered. A smile tickled the back of her lips. She loved seeing people do what she wanted. Her plan was working well.

  Sittig handed her a square of white linen and then held up his hands. His deep voice boomed as he pointed at the bucket brigade. “You’ve almost got the fire licked. Don’t stop now.”

  Cora watched accusing eyes glare at the sheriff. Covering her face with the handkerchief, she allowed a grin. A cackle of glee tried to escape her lips and she smothered it with a sob. The helpful Mrs. Olsen could rely on the mob to do her dirty work from here.

  Lowering the cloth, she pleaded with the crowd. “Please, save my home. And will someone help me to the hotel. I do feel so weak.”

  Sheriff Sittig put a hand under her elbow and guided her away from the suddenly busy bucket brigade. Walking toward the hotel, she whimpered softly. Sittig stiffened as he heard the sound.

  Her voice whined as she pleaded with the man. “I really did see a dark-haired man outside my window. Certainly you believe me. People in town know I don’t lie.”

  When he didn’t automatically believe her, she knew her fears were real. Carl had recovered his wits. He must have told his brother something about that night.

  She groaned, as if a pain gripped her. “Of all people, you know how real his madness is.” Hoping in the darkness he couldn’t make out her intense stare, she watched his reaction to her words. Yes, his eyes darted away from her and his mouth tightened. The man was in on the lie. Carl Sittig was no longer crazy.

  Chapter 7

  If Carlene Strong threw one more pitying look in her direction, Merrilee thought she might scream. Since she and the other woman, Mrs. Hoffman, arrived earlier, Carlene had looked back and forth between her and Carl. Each time, she frowned and gave Merrilee a sorrowful look. Carl hovered over Carlene, calling her his sister and hugging her. The twinge of jealousy Merrilee felt made the entire situation go from uncomfortable to terrible.

  “—so once Pastor Nillson announced it at last night’s service, I knew the baby would be here. A Christmas baby for sure! Expect you named him Noel.”

  Holder shook his head at Mrs. Hoffman. “No, Samuel. But thank you for bringing the basket of food. We’ll appreciate it since Carl’s wife isn’t used to cooking for a crowd.”

  How nice of her new brother-in-law not to let on that she wasn’t used to cooking at all, let alone for a crowd. Merrilee smiled at him and then added her thanks.

  “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hoffman. I look forward to getting to know you better on a less hectic day. Even with the new baby, we’re still trying to make it a merry day for the girls.” She looked pointedly at the girls who stood by the packages under the tree. They’d had a breakfast their father cooked and now wanted to open their gifts. “We’re taking the gifts upstairs so their mother can see them open each.”

  At her words, the girls scrambled to find their gifts. The twins wailed, bringing Merrilee to them. With an arm around each, she whispered comfort. “I’ll help you find yours, my sweeties. No tears on Christmas.”

  The draw she felt to these girls shocked her. What a surprise to discover something new about herself. She loved children. After last night, maybe she would have a baby of her own soon.

  Red suffused her face. Thankfully she had it tucked under the tree, looking for presents. At least the others in the room wouldn’t see her blush. On the other side of the tree, a dark head appeared. He looked at her through the canopy of branches and grinned knowingly, causing her cheeks to go from red to crimson. Oh the man!

  Thoughts of how he bundled her into her garments just before dawn came to her. He’d insisted she go back to the house. “I can’t have Holder suspecting we’ve been together. He might catch on that my craziness is all an act.”

  She tipped her head up and let him see the confusion on her face. “Would that be so bad? He seems like a good brother.”

  Kissing her one more time, he opened the door to the darkness of the morning that happened before dawn broke across the sky. “Holder’s a great guy. He and Myra night not be able to keep the secret. At least, that’s Fred’s fear.”

  “And I can?” Her fingers pulled out of his hand as she moved out the door.

  As she took the first few steps out in the snow, she heard him whisper, “You will if you want me to stay alive.”

  His silly grin was so contrary to those last grim words he’d said that she frowned at him now. Whispering under the concealing branches, she asked, “When can we be alone again?”

  His grin changed to a knowing smile. She groaned. “Not that way, idiot! I want to talk. Just talk!”

  He sho
ok his head before grabbing a present and standing up. She finished gathering Dora’s and Darlene’s gifts. Putting them in front of each, the girls shrieked with joy. “Christmas!” they said in unison.

  Carlene and Mrs. Hoffman called their goodbyes. With a sigh of relief that they were gone, Merrilee stood and straightened her wool skirt. “Help, Merry!”

  Dora pulled at the skirt she’d just righted, putting new wrinkles into it with her chubby fist. Smiling down at the girl, Merrilee ignored the wrinkles and scooped up the girl in one arm and her pile of presents in the other. Carl did the same for Darlene and they headed to the narrow staircase to follow Holder and the two girls who waited on them upstairs.

  Voices on the porch stopped him. Glancing toward the door, Merrilee and her husband watched Fred duck under the lintel and enter. At his stormy expression, the cry of “Merry Christmas” died on her lips.

  “Carl, I’m afraid we’ve got trouble and Mrs. Olsen’s behind it.”

  Explanations about the fire and the woman’s accusation tumbled out. Fred obviously hadn’t slept. Dark circles around his eyes reminded Merrilee of flames in dark caves. His words held a despondent note, as if Carl had already been tried and sentenced.

  With a drawn-out sigh, he finished with a groan. “Since you were alone all night in the cabin, no one can vouch for you. Who’s to say you didn’t sneak into town and commit arson?”

  Merrilee opened her mouth to speak. At a small, purposeful shake of Carl’s head, she closed it. He put Darlene down and piled her gifts into Merrily’s already full arms.

  Almost coldly, he questioned his brother. “When did this fire happen?”

  Rubbing a hand across his jaw, Fred thought for a moment. “Not long after I got back to town. I closed down the Biergarten because of problems. Found out someone had paid a couple no-goods to start fights last night. Still, I’d already shut down the tavern before I figured that much out.”

  Carl stared at his wife. As if she could read his thoughts by merely watching the tenderness fill his eyes, she knew he was remembering their loving. They’d been very involved at the time Fred named.

  His brother watched the interaction and grumbled. “Gee willikers! She was with you! Didn’t take you any time to let her in on the secret.”

  Merrilee watched Carl’s jaw hardened. Otherwise, he seemed determined not to react to his brother’s baiting.

  “Might be it’s time to let the town in on my recovery. Can’t say I want to reveal details of my wedding night just to satisfy that bunch in Idyll Wood.”

  Fred’s gaze didn’t waiver as he frowned. “Not sure they’d take your word about it. Mr. Olsen has them stirred up like hornets dripping water. I’ll have to take you in. Things will calm down once you’re locked up.” Fred’s mouth twisted cynically. “Then we can worry about silly things like evidence.”

  Unable to stifle her distress, Merrilee cried out. “Not on Christmas. Fred, please!” Dora wailed with her and Darlene, clinging to Merrilee’s leg, also bawled.

  The noise brought Holder down to the hallway with a dark scowl directed at Fred. “What’s got everything in a knot? We’re waiting for you to open gifts. Now that you’re here, you’ve got the girls crying.”

  “You explain, Merrilee.” Carl finished securing his hat and gloves as Fred threw those words over his shoulder and ducked out of the house.

  “Coward!” Merrilee yelled the word at her brother-in-law’s back as he and Carl each mounted a horse. Fred evidently had brought an extra horse from town. It was on a lead rope that he held as he rode from the yard, leading Carl’s horse behind him.

  Holder moved to stand on the porch beside her. “Come back here, Frederick Albert Sittig, and explain yourself!”

  In response, Fred stiffened his shoulders and increased his speed. Holder, used to being respected as the oldest, gave Merrilee a baffled look. He seemed almost lost. If the situation had been different, she might have giggled at the inanity of his expression.

  In a slow, tired voice, she urged, “Come inside and let me tell you about it.” But how much should she tell. Carl had said it was time for people to learn of his recovery. Did that mean she had his implied permission to tell Holder?

  The man followed behind her. Grabbing up the sobbing twins, he sat in his big armchair and soothed his girls. Once they had subsided to occasional hiccups, he looked at his sister-in-law.

  With a hard bite to his voice, he leveled a grim look at her. “What in the name of Christmas cheer is going on?”

  “It seems to be about a woman named Mrs. Olsen.” She told him about Carl’s fear of regaining his sanity. The story of the fire and her time with Carl tumbled out. That she didn’t blush as she told of being with her husband demonstrated how deep her concern for him was.

  In the end, she held up her arms beseechingly. “What do we do?”

  Holder cleared his throat awkwardly. Still, he met her eyes as he said, “I think we’d better trust Fred. My brother probably has a plan already.”

  -:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

  Carl heard her voice. Memories of that night when she’d tried to disguise it sent a shudder through him. Standing at the bars of the cell, he watched her through the open door that separated the sheriff’s office from the jail section of the building.

  The woman approached his brother and stopped in front of the desk, out of Carl’s view. She mimed cordiality as she spoke.

  Warmth that belied the cruel nature Carl had witnessed colored her voice. “Thank you for arresting him. I do feel safer knowing justice is more important than family with you.”

  Fred’s glacier tone stopped her. “Is there something you need, Mrs. Olsen?”

  The woman didn’t speak for a moment. When she did, hurt was plain in her words. “I only wanted to give you my statement. You need to know exactly what happened. I expect the prosecutor to see that your brother doesn’t go free.”

  Fred gave a harrumph and the sound of a drawer opening reached Carl. A chair leg scraped on the floor and then squeaked. No doubt, Mrs. Olsen settled herself comfortable in front of the sheriff’s desk to tell her lies.

  She started speaking with fright in her voice. “I heard whistling outside my window. It startled me so I—”

  Fred interrupted. Carl could almost see the scowl on his brother’s face. “Whistling, you say?” His hard voice conveyed doubt.

  “Yes, whistling!” The frightened woman suddenly sounded belligerent. “What’s wrong with whistling? It shows how happy he was to set my house on fire!” Belligerence gave way to a screech by the time she finished her tale.

  “Well, why are you staring at me?” Carl imagined Fred’s face. He would be patiently giving her a doubtful look. The same practiced look their mother gave her sons when she knew they’d lied to her.

  “At any time, while the man doused your house, did you open the window? Maybe to yell at him?”

  A sort of growl echoed in the quiet building. “I stand by the story I just told you.”

  “I stood next to you last night. In fact, I walked to the hotel with you. How do you suppose you came to smell strongly of kerosene? Almost like you’d handled the stuff last night.”

  Foul words followed a scream of anger. “Keep back, ma’am. I’d hate to lock you up for attacking a lawman. Good, Kloha. Take Mrs. Olsen to her husband.”

  Carl saw the deputy pull a snorting, resisting woman out the door. Fred appeared in the opening then, blocking his view.

  A grin creased his tired eyes. “Good thing I had her sign that statement. We’ve got her in a lie and have it on paper.”

  Nodding to his brother, Carl returned the grin. Then he pursed his lips to whistle. No sound came out.

  “Never could whistle. It frustrated me something awful every time you and Holder whistled in my ear just to needle me.”

  “Yeah. Who knew your weak lips would come in handy one day? Course, from the look your wife gave you earlier, maybe they aren’t so weak after all.”


  At the sound of the door, Fred turned. “Kloha? Back already?”

  With a snort, the younger man spit out an oath. “That durned woman marched away from me to the Western Union office. Says she’s telegraphing the prosecutor.”

  “Good! Saves the town the cost of sending the telegram.”

  His words surprised the deputy. He sputtered and then looked at Carl with a sad shake of his head. “I’d have thought you’d try to at least prove your brother didn’t do it.”

  Both Carl and Fred snickered, causing the other man to shake his head in confusion. “Crazy must run in the family.”

  Fred clapped a hand to the man’s back. “Wait and see. For now, guard my brother. Don’t let anyone in to see him. Not even his wife.”

  Carl glowered at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Not stopping, Fred moved to the door opposite the stove. Carl could hear his steps going up the stairs. At least his rooms were in the same building. If Carl needed him, he’d scream. Fred would come on a run.

  The deputy shut the door to the jail, leaving Carl alone. He laid back on the cot and wrapped the woolen blanket tightly around him. In the unheated room, he hadn’t even removed his coat.

  Carl figured he’d stopped praying long before he quit attending church. His father called his mother’s faith “stupid weakness.” Wanting to be strong and impress his stern parent, Carl refused to continue attending church with his mother and brothers. Staying home gave him time alone with his father. Often they’d go hunting.

  Odd, but as he remembered it now he wished he’d had spent the time with his mother rather than his father. The man had criticized relentlessly, keeping Carl, the one son who took after him in appearance, always at a distance.

  His mother, Jenny, had been a lady with a kind word for everyone. He’d wondered more than once how she ended up married to her emotionally cold husband. It was only last year, after the letter arrived from Germany, that Jenny told the story. That his father had forced his serving girl to become his mistress explained much. Then he coerced her to leave Germany with him once she proved she could birth sons. It was typical of his tyrannical parent.