In The Beginning by Gail Daley (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📕

was dark inside; the holster having retired to his bed. Fred lit a lantern and hung it up so he would have light to unsaddle and stable the animals. As he performed these duties, he noticed the gruella striped tricorn lazily munching a feedbag of grain in one stall. Going into the office to return the lamp, he paused to read the note weighed down by the pile of coins left on the desk. It said simply, "third stall, bait and leave him saddled." It was signed with no name, but a knife had been drawn on it as a signature. Fred nodded to himself and added a second stack of chips to the pile to pay for the rented tricorns. Blade was in town. Fred shuddered; he had lived his entire life in the shadow of the Woman's Circle and knew Blade was a sometime agent of theirs. Blade always left the gruella tricorn here with those instructions when there was a killing that had been bought and paid for. The tricorn would be gone by morning.

Marie Nguyn hadn't shared the information in the second private letter she had received from Giselle St. Vyr with her son, but he knew a heavy bag of silver chips had come with it. Coupled with the instructions to watch the trains, he had a fair idea of who would die tonight.

Fred was blamelessly eating breakfast with Martha when Sheriff Yang knocked on the kitchen door.

"Why, Tom, you're out early this morning," Martha said. "Can I offer you a cup of coffee?"

"Thanks," he smiled down at her. The pair of them had been exchanging these smiles since grade school and the family was beginning to wonder when they would do something about it.

She poured him a large cup, sugared it the way he liked it and handed it to him. "Sit down and join us. Have you had breakfast?"

"I'll eat later," he said, sitting tiredly at the table and taking a big drink of the coffee. "Martha, do you have a guest staying here named Ira Johnson?"

Martha handed Fred his plate of eggs and toast. "Yes, I do. He has the back room at the top of the stairs. Why?"

"Do you know what his business here in town was?"

"He wanted to reconnect with his son," Fred said. "I took him out to the Butternut Farm yesterday."

"Samuel Clancy is his son?"

"Yes, I think so. What is going on?"

The sheriff took a big gulp of coffee and sighed. "Jerry Lindstrom found his body last night out behind the Merry Widow."

"You mean he's dead?"

"Yes, he was stabbed once, through the heart. Was he carrying money?"

Fred frowned. "I didn't see much, but if he was traveling, he might have been. Why?"

Tom took a sip of his coffee. "Johnson's pockets had been turned out, but he didn't look like he'd been in a fight. He was stabbed only once, with a long, thin blade. The thrust was clean, with no hesitation. The coroner and I both think the killing style is the same as what was used on the rich farmer who was killed a month ago. Did either of you see a gruella tricorn in town last night?"

"I didn't," Martha replied.

Fred shook his head. "What does a gruella tricorn have to do with Johnson's death?"

The sheriff took another drink of coffee. "Probably nothing, but it seems to show up around town whenever there's a killing like this."

"Like this?" Martha asked.

"It looks like the work of a hired killer named Blade," the sheriff said. "Fred, I'll need you to ride out to the Butternut with me this morning to talk to the Clancy's, and I'd like to see his room, Martha."

She rose at once. "Of course, Tom."

Fred finished his breakfast in silence and poured himself another cup of coffee and drank it before he followed them upstairs. Martha was standing by the window while Tom made a thorough inspection of Johnson's belongings.

"I'll need to rent a tricorn again, Tom," Fred said, "Do you want me to tell Davis to get one ready for you as well?"

"Yeah, you do that."

Fred did need to rent the tricorn, but his primary purpose was to make sure the note from Blade wasn't still sitting on the holster's desk. It wasn't.

Samuel Johnson looked gravely at the sheriff when he told him of his father's death. Jeanne put an arm around her husband in support. The children and Chloe watched in silence.

"I understand you and your father were estranged?"

Samuel nodded. "Yes."

"Can I ask the reason why?"

"It was because of me," Jeanne told the sheriff. She gestured to the porch. " Sheriff, why don't you come and sit down so we can speak in comfort?"

Gently, she pulled her husband up the stairs. They sat down in the comfortable wicker chairs, holding hands.   "Chloe, would you and Katrina please fix a pitcher of juice and bring it out? I think this might be a long conversation," Jeanne requested.

"Sure, c'mon kids," Chloe went into the house, reluctantly followed by the children.

"I can't image Mr. Johnson objecting to marriage to such a lovely woman as yourself, Mrs. Clancy," the sheriff responded gallantly.

"There is conflict between our families back home," Samuel interjected. "We moved here so we wouldn't be in the middle of it."

"You have a different last name. Mind if I ask why?"

Samuel shrugged. "My wife and I wanted to cut all our ties back home, so we adopted a new last name."

"I see. I take it your father's visit yesterday was a surprise?"

"Oh, yes. We were hoping he wouldn't find out where we were living for a while so he wouldn't try and put pressure on me to go along with his plans."

"What plans were those?"

"He was having a land dispute with Jeanne's family and he thought having one of his sons married to St. Vyr's daughter would make it easier for him to be named executor if something happened to the others."

The sheriff eyed him shrewdly. "Are you telling me your father had plans to