shelves at once. It’s a menace to the public.”
“I’m dreadfully sorry.” Caleb interrupted the diatribe and held out both bottles. “The labels must have gotten switched somehow. What you took was actually a solution to be given to bloating cattle.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Morgan pulled a lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it to her lips. A small convulsion rippled across her shoulders.
“I’ll be happy to refund your money,” he said. “Or I can exchange this for a bottle of the real Mrs. Bickham’s remedy, if you’d prefer.”
Mrs. Morgan’s shoulders shook again. She returned the handkerchief to her sleeve and drew herself erect. “I’ll take the refund. I have no intention of giving you the opportunity to poison me a second time.”
Apologizing profusely, Caleb withdrew a handful of coins from the register and counted the refund amount into the woman’s outstretched hand. Giving him a curt nod, she pivoted and marched out the door.
The Professor moved closer and peered at the mislabeled bottle. “How do you suppose such a mistake could have taken place?”
Caleb returned the drenching solution to its place on the shelf, then held the offending bottle up to the light. “It was no mistake. Look at this.” He traced his finger along the edge of the label, where a faint residue showed on the brown surface. “The original label has been removed. You can see a bit of the torn edge remaining. The Mrs. Bickham’s label was pasted over the same spot.”
The Professor gave him a questioning look. “You’re saying it was done deliberately?”
Caleb nodded grimly. “It would appear so.” He strode outthe back door and poured the contents of the bottle into the dust of the alley. Who could have done such a thing?
Levi?
He rejected the notion as soon as it entered his mind. Replacing the label like that was beyond a six-year-old’s ability. Besides, that kind of subterfuge didn’t fit Levi’s character. Caleb couldn’t deny that his young son created more than his share of mischief, but the boy wasn’t truly malicious. He stepped back inside the mercantile and tossed the empty bottle into the wastebin.
Wiping his hands on his storekeeper’s apron, he turned back to the Professor. “Sorry for the interruption. Let’s get back to your order.” He measured the sugar into a small cloth bag and set it on the counter next to the crate. “Shall I put it on your tab?”
“If you would, please.” The Professor glanced toward the stepladder. “A couple of cans of those peaches it appears you just put up there would do nicely, too.”
Caleb climbed the ladder again, retrieved the peaches, and then rejoined his friend, leaning back against the counter.
“I was rather hoping to meet that new partner of yours I’ve been hearing about.” The Professor’s dark eyes twinkled when he spoke. Caleb couldn’t tell whether that was due to amusement or anticipation.
“She stepped out for a while.” Caleb raked his fingers through his hair. “And thank goodness for that. This has been the longest week of my life.”
The Professor’s eyes widened. “How so?”
Caleb sighed, glad for the chance to confide his woes. “I’m beginning to wonder whether or not this venture is going to work out for me. It was hard enough to make the decisionto pull up stakes back in Missouri and move to Arizona to come help my uncle and make a new start. Then there was the challenge of settling in and learning the business. And then to have Uncle Alvin up and die just as I was starting to get the hang of things . . .”
The Professor nodded. “I can only imagine how difficult that must have been, but I believe you’ve handled the transition admirably. From everything I’ve seen, you have an innate business sense that will stand you in good stead in making this store a success.”
“I hope so. If I don’t succeed, it won’t be for lack of trying—that’s for sure.”
“I can attest to
“I’m dreadfully sorry.” Caleb interrupted the diatribe and held out both bottles. “The labels must have gotten switched somehow. What you took was actually a solution to be given to bloating cattle.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Morgan pulled a lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it to her lips. A small convulsion rippled across her shoulders.
“I’ll be happy to refund your money,” he said. “Or I can exchange this for a bottle of the real Mrs. Bickham’s remedy, if you’d prefer.”
Mrs. Morgan’s shoulders shook again. She returned the handkerchief to her sleeve and drew herself erect. “I’ll take the refund. I have no intention of giving you the opportunity to poison me a second time.”
Apologizing profusely, Caleb withdrew a handful of coins from the register and counted the refund amount into the woman’s outstretched hand. Giving him a curt nod, she pivoted and marched out the door.
The Professor moved closer and peered at the mislabeled bottle. “How do you suppose such a mistake could have taken place?”
Caleb returned the drenching solution to its place on the shelf, then held the offending bottle up to the light. “It was no mistake. Look at this.” He traced his finger along the edge of the label, where a faint residue showed on the brown surface. “The original label has been removed. You can see a bit of the torn edge remaining. The Mrs. Bickham’s label was pasted over the same spot.”
The Professor gave him a questioning look. “You’re saying it was done deliberately?”
Caleb nodded grimly. “It would appear so.” He strode outthe back door and poured the contents of the bottle into the dust of the alley. Who could have done such a thing?
Levi?
He rejected the notion as soon as it entered his mind. Replacing the label like that was beyond a six-year-old’s ability. Besides, that kind of subterfuge didn’t fit Levi’s character. Caleb couldn’t deny that his young son created more than his share of mischief, but the boy wasn’t truly malicious. He stepped back inside the mercantile and tossed the empty bottle into the wastebin.
Wiping his hands on his storekeeper’s apron, he turned back to the Professor. “Sorry for the interruption. Let’s get back to your order.” He measured the sugar into a small cloth bag and set it on the counter next to the crate. “Shall I put it on your tab?”
“If you would, please.” The Professor glanced toward the stepladder. “A couple of cans of those peaches it appears you just put up there would do nicely, too.”
Caleb climbed the ladder again, retrieved the peaches, and then rejoined his friend, leaning back against the counter.
“I was rather hoping to meet that new partner of yours I’ve been hearing about.” The Professor’s dark eyes twinkled when he spoke. Caleb couldn’t tell whether that was due to amusement or anticipation.
“She stepped out for a while.” Caleb raked his fingers through his hair. “And thank goodness for that. This has been the longest week of my life.”
The Professor’s eyes widened. “How so?”
Caleb sighed, glad for the chance to confide his woes. “I’m beginning to wonder whether or not this venture is going to work out for me. It was hard enough to make the decisionto pull up stakes back in Missouri and move to Arizona to come help my uncle and make a new start. Then there was the challenge of settling in and learning the business. And then to have Uncle Alvin up and die just as I was starting to get the hang of things . . .”
The Professor nodded. “I can only imagine how difficult that must have been, but I believe you’ve handled the transition admirably. From everything I’ve seen, you have an innate business sense that will stand you in good stead in making this store a success.”
“I hope so. If I don’t succeed, it won’t be for lack of trying—that’s for sure.”
“I can attest to
Similar Books
