"Lucy, it's time to leave for school," Marie said from the door of her ward's bedroom.
Lucy Walker looked up at the woman who had so graciously taken her into her home. "I'm almost ready," she replied. Seated on the edge of her bed, she bent over to tie her shoelaces, noticing that her fingers were shaking as she struggled with the long strings. "I don't know why I'm so nervous," she confessed. "I used to go to school in Toronto, and I know you've kept me up with my studies."
"It's been a long time, so it's natural that you would feel somewhat apprehensive," Marie suggested. "Did you enjoy school before?"
Lucy smiled, remembering her school days in Toronto, and playing with her friends in the schoolyard during recess. "Yes. It was the only time I saw most of my friends."
"I think you'll like it here, too. I met your teacher yesterday, and she's very nice."
"Oh, I hope so," Lucy said, her voice almost a whisper. "When I was little, I had a teacher who was an old grouch! He had a hooknose and the corners of his mouth always turned down, like he was mad all the time. I dreaded going to school every day because he was so mean."
Marie smiled, amused by the description. "I don't think there is a single person who has not encountered an 'old grouch' schoolmaster at one time or another."
Lucy's eyes brightened. "You, too?"
"Me, too. However, I don't think Miss Upton qualifies as an 'old grouch'. She's very young, though, and she's in an environment that is very different from what she's accustomed to, so I would appreciate it if you and your friends would try to help her as much as you can, all right?"
"We will," Lucy promised. She finished tying the last lace, and stood up, smoothing down her new school dress. "How do I look?"
Marie observed the girl, fondly. "You've grown into such a pretty young lady, Lucy. Your parents would be so proud of you."
Lucy beamed in response to the praise. "Thanks, Marie."
"All right. Let's get you off to school!"
Lucy gathered her slate and her books, and she and Marie walked to the small schoolhouse, taking the empty field east of town rather than walking directly through the town itself, a conscious effort to avoid Oliver Knapp. She knew she would have to face him sooner or later, but for now, she hoped to get Lucy to school before such an encounter occurred.
Grace Upton was writing her name on the blackboard when Marie and Lucy walked through the door, and she turned around when she heard their footsteps on the wooden floor. A cautious smile came to her lips. "Mrs. Dumont. It's good to see you again."
Marie smiled in return, knowing that the smile appeared somewhat forced. Try as she might, it was difficult not to envision the young teacher with Clive, enjoying a meal and an intimate conversation. "Good morning," she responded, shifting her eyes to the nervous young girl who stood beside her, gazing anxiously at the new teacher.
Grace's eyes followed Maries, and she smiled, pleasantly. "You must be Lucy."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You're the first student here, so would you like to ring the bell for me?"
"Yes, I would." Lucy picked up the small hand bell from the corner of the teacher's desk, and took it to the door and began ringing for the other students.
Briefly left alone, Marie and Grace regarded each other with a few moments of uncomfortable silence.
Finally, Grace said, "You mentioned last night that Lucy is your ward. If you don't mind my asking, what happened to her parents?"
"They died of illness during the stagecoach ride out west," Marie explained. "Her father's sister lived near here, and they were planning to stay with her for awhile, until they could get settled. Unfortunately, the sister passed away about the time they were leaving Toronto, so there was no time for word to reach them before their departure. They were buried at the side of the road, and Lucy completed the journey on her own."
"How tragic," Grace said. "It's fortunate that she has you."
"Well, it was either that or an orphanage, and I couldn't let that happen."
"You're very kind. Corporal Bennett thinks very highly of you," she added, casually, as she gazed directly into Marie's eyes, curious to see her reaction. It was her hope that the doctor would reveal the exact nature of her relationship with Clive, perhaps even reassure her that their affiliation was not a personal one.
Marie knew that the young woman was feeling her out, and she was careful to keep her expression neutral, even though she was curious to know what Clive had told Grace about her. "Clive and I are good friends," she told her, an ambiguous response that neither confirmed nor denied the possibility of becoming involved in a romantic triangle.
The two women continued to gaze at one another, and it quickly became apparent that Marie Dumont had no intention of revealing any particulars.
"Well, I'll leave you to your class," Marie said, turning to leave.
"Mrs. Dumont?" Grace said, stopping her. Marie turned, expectantly. "Perhaps we could have tea, sometime," she suggested, hesitantly.
Marie nodded. "I would like that."
The children were beginning to file into the small school, and Marie slipped past them as she made her way to the door. In spite of the fact that she had so thoroughly attracted Clive's attention, Marie found that she could not dislike the young woman.
Oliver Knapp parted the curtain of his window, and gazed down at the street below.
The workweek was beginning, and merchants were opening up their shops for the start of the day. Across the street, the banker unlocked his door, paused to smile and wave a greeting to someone Oliver could not see from his restricted position, then stepped into the establishment with the confidence of a successful businessman. Idly, Oliver wondered why such a small town even bothered with a bank.
The mud from the rain showers Friday night had finally dried out, leaving a slightly tacky, hard-packed road. Men and women, some on foot, some on horseback, moved about the street and boardwalks, making their way to their destinations, unaware that they were being observed. He dismissed each one of them as unimportant. He was only interested in one person, and she had not yet come into view. He knew she would, though. The windows of her store were dark, indicating that she had not opened up for business yet, but it was Monday, and he knew she would be there at any moment.
As expected, she finally came into view only moments later, emerging from the alley between the saloon and the boarding house. She paused briefly to look up and down the street to avoid stepping in front of a horse or wagon, then crossed the street.
Oliver experienced a momentary sense of surprise. Her home was at the north end of the street, and he puzzled over the fact that she had come from the south end. Leaning against the wall beside the window, he folded his arms and concentrated on his curiosity with a deep frown. Then he remembered: Marie was raising a young ward, and the school was opening for the first time this morning. More than likely, she had walked the girl to school to get her settled in.
When she reached the other side of the street, she lifted the hem of her skirt to avoid tripping as she climbed the access steps that led to the store, then she paused at the door to unlock it.
Oliver nodded, approvingly. She was suitably dressed this morning in a fashionable dress with her hair stylishly pinned up. Obviously, she had taken to heart his demand that she dress in a more appropriate manner.
When Marie had closed the door behind her, Oliver left the window, and quietly walked down the stairs. He could hear Sally Duffield humming cheerfully from the kitchen, so he proceeded to the door, eased it open, and stepped outside.
Immediately, he turned to his right, toward the marshal's office, expecting to see the lawman watching him, but Marshal Craddock was nowhere in sight. He glanced up and down the street, but the marshal did not appear to be anywhere on the street.
Moving down the steps to the street, Oliver strode across the dirt road, down the side alley, and came upon Marie's store from the rear. Here, he paused, watching the back door.
As expected, Marie had opened the back door, and was returning from the woodshed with several blocks of wood, apparently intending to build a fire in the stove for heating coffee. To his satisfaction, she left the back door unlocked as she passed through it.
Oliver followed, slipping quietly inside, and made his way through the storeroom, past the supply of dry goods and other items not currently on display in the store. The door leading from the storeroom to the public area of the store was standing open, so he paused there to observe the woman.
Marie was alone, standing on a footstool to reach a prepackaged sack of coffee from an upper shelf.
"Let me get that for you," he said.
Startled by the abruptness of his voice and his unexpected appearance, Marie gasped and teetered on the stool that tipped beneath her. Oliver rushed forward and caught her as she tumbled from the overturned stool.
"There we are," he said, cheerfully, holding her in his arms as he smiled down at her. "Safe and secure."
"Put me down, please," she demanded when she determined that he had held her a little longer than was necessary.
"Of course, Marie," he said, pleasantly. "It was not my intention to be so familiar, but it seemed that you were in distress."
He put her down, and she backed away, placing the sales counter between herself and the Englishman. "How did you get in?" she asked.
"Through the back door, which you left open when you went outside to get the wood. A cup of coffee would be nice," he added, noticing the open lid of the coffee pot that stood on top of the stove, awaiting the coffee that she still held in her hand. When she did not respond, he said, "I wanted to talk to you without interference from that marshal. Just what is he to you, anyway?"
"He's a good friend."
"Yes, well, he's an inconvenient friend. I presume you told him to leave you alone from now on, like I instructed you to do."
"What is it you want?" she asked.
"You."
His answer was short and to the point, but it sent an apprehensive chill shivering down her spine. She avoided his gaze, as prey avoids the eyes of a predator. "Monsieur Knapp, I have considered your offer of marriage, and I have reached a decision. This is my home, now, and I have no wish to leave it. I must decline your proposal."
"I cannot accept that," he said promptly, his voice quietly intimidating.
Startled, she looked up into his face and saw determination staring back at her in his intense gaze. "But you said you would accept my decision," she reminded him.
"I cannot. I do not believe that is what is truly in your heart."
"I assure you, it is," she said, speaking firmly, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her apprehension.
"You don't have to pretend any more, Marie. Jacques is dead; Beatrice is dead. There is only you and me, now." He was smiling, happily. "I've waited for this for so long. We will be so wonderful together. I would have come for you sooner, but it was necessary to settle some final details on my claim on my father's estate so that I could give you the kind of life you deserve. I'll make you happy, Marie. I promise you that."
"Like you made Beatrice happy?" she challenged.
He instantly sobered, and a slightly puzzled frown appeared on his face. "Do I detect an accusation in your voice, my dear?"
"I know what you did to her, how you treated her."
He shrugged. "What did she tell you?"
"She told me nothing. She didn't have to. I saw the bruises you left on her face and her arms. She never admitted that you were the cause. She said she was just clumsy. That she had fallen down a flight of stairs, or tripped on an uneven cobblestone, or bumped into a door. I believed her then -- we even laughed about it -- but now I know the truth. You killed her, didn't you?"
"Marie, I am wounded that you could even think such a thing! How can you say these terrible things about me?"
"You said Beatrice was killed in a fall from a horse. She was terrified of horses, and did not ride! You lied about her death!"
He appeared startled that Marie would remember such a detail about his deceased wife. "Marie, it isn't what you're thinking, I assure you. It was an accident."
"You beat her to death, didn't you?" she asked, boldly.
"I told you, Marie. It was an accident. I didn't tell you the truth because I knew you would think the wrong thing." He dragged his fingers through his hair, remembering that terrible day. "I pushed her, yes, but she fell against the table and struck her head. I didn't mean to hurt her."
"If you pushed her or hit her, then you did intend to hurt her! Get out!" she demanded.
"I won't. Not without you. Come with me. Please!" His voice had become pleading. "It will be different with us, I promise. If Vancouver isn't to your liking, we can go to Toronto or Winnipeg. I know! Montreal! It would be perfect for you!"
"I will go nowhere with you, Monsieur Knapp."
"You will!" He grasped her forcibly by the wrist, causing her to cry out with pain and surprise.
They had not heard anyone else come into the store, and did not realize that they were no longer alone until they heard a voice speaking gruffly:
"If you don't let go o' the lady's arm right now, there won't be nuthin' left o' you 'cept a slimy smear on that wall behind you. Comprende?"
They both turned to find Jack Craddock standing in the doorway, a double barrel shotgun leveled at the Englishman. The stock was resting against his hip, but they all knew that at that distance, he couldn't miss. Behind him, Clive Bennett was looking down the barrel of his rifle, also aimed at Oliver Knapp.
"I'd do as he says," Clive suggested.
Oliver immediately released her arm, and backed away, hands raised in surrender. Marie moved back from the sales counter, placing additional space between her and Knapp.
"I think you've overstayed yer welcome," Jack told him. "I want you outta town. Now!"
"Marshal, please," Oliver said, speaking smoothly and calmly. "I haven't completed my business here, yet."
"Yes, you have," Clive told him.
"The stagecoach doesn't come until this afternoon, and I'm afraid it's headed the wrong direction."
"Then I expect you to buy a horse from the livery stable," Jack told him. "In fact, Corporal Bennett here is gonna help you pack yer belongin's, and while you're doin' that, I'll head on over to the bank and tell Wendell yer leavin'. He'll be more than happy to sell you a horse. I'll even have it saddled for you."
"I'm afraid that's impossible, Marshal. I'm awaiting my servant. He's due in today on the eastbound stage. I can't leave without him."
"This order is non-negotiable," Clive told him.
Jack raised his shotgun to his shoulder and glared down the twin barrels at the Englishman. "Leave a forwardin' address with Sally, and she'll make sure he gets it. You're leavin' Bordertown within the hour, so I suggest you get started packin' that carpetbag o' yours. You got that?"
Oliver looked at the two determined lawmen standing before him, and knew that it was pointless to argue any further, especially when both were holding weapons on him. He would have to leave, and formulate a new plan later. He nodded his assent. "Very well. I'll pack immediately."
Sally Duffield, arriving for her days of work at the store, stopped in the doorway, her eyes wide with surprise at the unexpected sight of Jack and Clive holding their weapons on Oliver Knapp. "What's going on here?" She sifted her gaze to her employer, who stood against the wall behind the sales counter, obviously without objection to the treatment being given to the charming Englishman. "Marie?"
"It's all right, Sally," Marie told her. "Monsieur Knapp is leaving Bordertown."
Oliver moved toward the door, but Jack stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his path. "I'll need money to buy the horse with."
Oliver's complexion darkened. "Might I remind you, Marshal, this was your idea, not mine."
"I wouldn't concern myself with details if I were you," Clive told him, "And you did make it your 'idea' through your actions. Just be glad we're not arresting you for assault." He glanced at Marie. "Say the word, Marie, and we'll throw him behind bars."
"Nuthin' would give us more pleasure," Jack agreed.
Marie shook her head. As attractive as the idea was, placing him in jail would delay his stay in town, and she did not want him in Bordertown a moment longer than necessary. There was also the possibility that a judge would order him freed, and his aggressiveness would only increase. "No. Just make him leave town."
Clive moved closer to Oliver, looking him square in the eye. "I'm sure the Canadian government would be interested to know what the marshal and I just overheard regarding the death of your wife, Mr. Knapp. Should I choose to inform them of that fact, you will probably be evicted from Canada and returned to England. The more I think about it, the more that idea appeals to me. I'm sure you would also lose your license to practice medicine. You might even be put on trial for murder."
Oliver knew his time was up. He withdrew a sizeable wad of bills from his pocket, and passed several large denominations to Jack. "I shall require tack, as well."
"You'll get it," Jack responded, accepting the money. He stepped away from the door, allowing Oliver room to pass, but he never took his eyes off him. Oliver glared at the marshal as he walked by, letting him know through his expression that he was complying under duress.
"Wait!" Sally called, suddenly.
All three men turned curiously toward her.
"You paid your rent for two full weeks," she reminded him. "You have a refund coming."
Oliver managed a reasonably pleasant smile. "Keep it, my dear lady. Money is something I have plenty of."
"But --" she started to object, but his raised hand cut her off.
"It is quite all right." With another harsh glare at the marshal, Oliver left the store with Clive following.
While Clive oversaw the collection of Oliver's personal belongings, Jack went next door to the bank, and approached Wendell MacWherter's desk.
"Hey, Wendell --"
"One moment, Marshal," Wendell said without looking up from his bank ledgers.
Jack cast impatient eyes to the ceiling and waited for a moment, then said, "Wendell, this is important."
Wendell ignored him, casually completing his entry in his ledger. Finally, he closed the book and looked up. "What can I do for you, Marshal?"
"That there Englishman that's been stayin' at Sally's is leaving today. He needs a horse."
"I thought he was staying for a couple of weeks," Wendell said.
"His plans got changed rather abruptly." He dropped the money on the desk, a sum total great enough to activate Wendell's salivary glands. "He needs a horse and tack."
Wendell picked up the money and counted it, amazed that the Englishman would trust a complete stranger with so much cash. "Why didn't he come himself?"
"Corporal Bennett is overseein' his packin'."
Wendell looked up, sensing that Oliver Knapp was being run out of town for something. "Did he commit an impropriety of some kind?"
"A what?"
"Did he do something wrong?"
"You might say that. He assaulted Marie Dumont."
Wendell's expression indicated surprise. "Shouldn't he be arrested for that?"
"She ain't pressin' charges. She jus' wants him outta town. Now, about that horse?"
"Well, that chestnut gelding in the corner stall is for sale. The tack is right outside the stall door." Wendell quickly made out a bill of sale, signed it, and passed it to the marshal, and returned some of the cash. "From the amount of money he gave you, he obviously was expecting a papered Thoroughbred," he commented. "The horse is sound, but it isn't worth the amount he provided."
Jack took the money. "I'll see he gets it."
Jack went to the stable and saddled and bridled the chestnut gelding. It was ready when Clive escorted Oliver to the paddock area.
Oliver looked at the horse with critical eyes. "That is the best you could do?"
"It's the only animal for sale." He presented Oliver with the change and the bill of sale. "We ain't got no blooded Thoroughbreds around these parts."
Oliver tied his carpetbag behind the cantle, and hung the handle of his doctor's bag over the saddle horn, then he mounted and started to turn the horse west.
Clive caught the horse by the bridle. "Don't come back to Bordertown," he advised. "We won't be so accommodating next time."
"You've made your point, Corporal," Oliver told him, resentfully.
Clive released the bridle, and Oliver Knapp rode out of Bordertown, taking the road that led toward Vancouver.
The two lawmen watched from the stable's open doors, then Clive said, "All right, Jack. You can say 'I told you so' if it will make you feel better."
"Well, I told ya, but . . . I'm just glad he's gone," he said with great relief.
"Let's hope he stays gone."
Together, they made their way back to the store to check on Marie.
The instant they walked through the door, they knew that Marie had explained to Sally what had occurred, for Sally was bustling about the store with a feather duster, trying to keep her nervous hands busy, and chattering incessantly in her excitement.
"And to think!" she exclaimed. "That man was living right under my roof! I was so taken in by that handsome appearance and that beautiful accent that I never even imagined he might not be what he seemed! If I had known, I certainly wouldn't have let him stay in my boarding house!"
"You can stop yer frettin', Sally," Jack assured her. "He's gone, now."
"And he knows not to come back," Clive added. "Just to be safe, though, I suggest you keep your doors and ground level windows locked for awhile, Marie."
"Yeah, and stop by on yer way home tonight," Jack said. "I have a gun I'll loan ya."
Marie instantly looked apprehensive about the notion of having a loaded gun under her roof. "Oh, I don't really think I'll need that."
"You probably won't," Clive agreed. "But Jack and I will both sleep better knowing that you have some protection for you and Lucy."
"That's a fact," Jack told her.
She looked from one to the other, the two men determined to protect her from harm, and finally nodded. "Well, all right, then. Sally, I left the back door of the store unlocked ---"
"Say no more! I'll go lock it right now!" Dropping the feather duster on the sales counter, Sally hurried into the storeroom, eager to secure the door.
"Well, I got morning rounds," Jack said. "I'll see you this evening, Marie, when you come by to get that gun."
She nodded. "All right."
After he had gone, Clive said, "You'll be all right alone?"
She nodded. "I'm not really alone. I have Sally to keep me company."
He smiled, amused. "Well, Sally is not exactly known for her steady nerves, but she does have a powerful set of lungs, so with her to sound the alarm, I guess you'll be fine." He started to leave, but her voice stopped him.
"Clive?"
He turned back to face her, waiting.
"I was wondering if maybe you would like to stop by for supper tonight."
He shook his head. "I appreciate the invitation, Marie, but I have a prior commitment. Maybe some other time?"
It was not difficult for her to guess the nature of his prior commitment, nor was it difficult to guess who his commitment involved. She forced a smile to cover her disappointment. "Of course. Some other time."
Clive left the store and turned toward his office, never noticing Jack Craddock, who stood with his back against the store's alley wall, near enough to the door to have overheard the invitation that had sent his heart plummeting to his boots.
With a sigh, he strode down the alley to resume his rounds.
GO TO CHAPTER EIGHT