disheveled attire, he frowned. "You stay here. I'll send someone back if they need more help."
"Don't be ridiculous." As if that were argument enough, Janice hurried back to find her shoes. It was too late in her life for any man to take to ordering her around now.
He didn't hang around to argue more. Giving her a steely frown, he hurriedly strode for the back door.
By the time Janice was appropriately dressed, most of the excitement was over. As she hurried out in the street, she could see the dying flames of the fire in the old shack on the outskirts of town. The men on the fire wagon pumped water over the last burning timbers. There hadn't been enough to the shack to burn for long.
She knew some of the town men gathered there on Sunday nights. She'd been told the old man who lived there sold illegal liquor. A sudden frisson of horror struck her as she remembered Ellen's tearful plea. That was just the sort of place Bobby would frequent. And there could have been others. She hurried toward the silent crowd.
They carried out a blanket-wrapped body just as Janice arrived. She clutched the arm of the woman nearest her. As much as she despised Bobby, she couldn't wish him dead for Ellen's sake. Even as she thought this, she saw Bobby helping wind up the fire wagon hose. He was all right then. Janice turned to the woman next to her.
"Do they know who it is? Or what happened?"
"It's Old Man Samuel. Sheriff says the place smells of kerosene. He thinks somebody lit it."
As the other woman spoke, Janice looked up in time to see Sheriff Powell clap a pair of handcuffs on a tall, familiar figure at the front of the crowd.
Powell was arresting the only suspected arsonist in the county—Peter Mulloney.
Chapter 10
Stunned, Janice didn't move as Powell jostled his prisoner past the expectant crowd. A man had died this night. The town would require justice. She imagined a cloud of righteous satisfaction rising from the people around her as they watched Peter Mulloney hauled off to jail. He wasn't one of them. There would be no weeping widow or grieving children to mourn his departure when the jury found him guilty and ordered him hung. She could almost hear their thoughts as Mulloney was dragged to his fate. There had been two fires since the stranger had arrived in town. That was evidence enough for them.
As the last of the fire was quenched, the crowd dissipated. The woman whose arm Janice clutched gently disengaged herself and walked off.
She had to do something. She couldn't stand here and let everyone think Mulloney had murdered an old man in his bed. It didn't even make logical sense. What in heaven's name would a man like Peter Mulloney get out of murdering some old man he didn't even know?
Maybe she could use logic to have him released. She knew better than that. Logic didn't explain the wildfires that swept the town or the floods that inundated it in spring. Logic didn't explain the senseless use of guns on Saturday night. Logic explained very little of life. Vengeance was the only recognized logic. No one would question why a man would set fire to a shack. The shack burned and a man died.
That was fact. Someone had to pay for it. Mulloney was convenient.
Janice wondered how soon Jason Harding would return. He wasn't likely to get caught up in the emotional melodrama that would seize the town now that the scent of a hanging hung in the air. She could talk to Jason. She shivered at the thought of how he would take it when he learned Mulloney had been sleeping in Betsy's bedroom. He wouldn't believe her claim of innocence for a minute. Neither would anybody else. But Jason would more likely keep his mouth shut about it.
But she would lose her job whether she told Jason or the sheriff. Female schoolteachers did not allow men to spend the night in their houses. That was another fact of life. To give Mulloney the alibi he needed, she would have to lose her job. She would have to leave Mineral Springs
"Don't be ridiculous." As if that were argument enough, Janice hurried back to find her shoes. It was too late in her life for any man to take to ordering her around now.
He didn't hang around to argue more. Giving her a steely frown, he hurriedly strode for the back door.
By the time Janice was appropriately dressed, most of the excitement was over. As she hurried out in the street, she could see the dying flames of the fire in the old shack on the outskirts of town. The men on the fire wagon pumped water over the last burning timbers. There hadn't been enough to the shack to burn for long.
She knew some of the town men gathered there on Sunday nights. She'd been told the old man who lived there sold illegal liquor. A sudden frisson of horror struck her as she remembered Ellen's tearful plea. That was just the sort of place Bobby would frequent. And there could have been others. She hurried toward the silent crowd.
They carried out a blanket-wrapped body just as Janice arrived. She clutched the arm of the woman nearest her. As much as she despised Bobby, she couldn't wish him dead for Ellen's sake. Even as she thought this, she saw Bobby helping wind up the fire wagon hose. He was all right then. Janice turned to the woman next to her.
"Do they know who it is? Or what happened?"
"It's Old Man Samuel. Sheriff says the place smells of kerosene. He thinks somebody lit it."
As the other woman spoke, Janice looked up in time to see Sheriff Powell clap a pair of handcuffs on a tall, familiar figure at the front of the crowd.
Powell was arresting the only suspected arsonist in the county—Peter Mulloney.
Chapter 10
Stunned, Janice didn't move as Powell jostled his prisoner past the expectant crowd. A man had died this night. The town would require justice. She imagined a cloud of righteous satisfaction rising from the people around her as they watched Peter Mulloney hauled off to jail. He wasn't one of them. There would be no weeping widow or grieving children to mourn his departure when the jury found him guilty and ordered him hung. She could almost hear their thoughts as Mulloney was dragged to his fate. There had been two fires since the stranger had arrived in town. That was evidence enough for them.
As the last of the fire was quenched, the crowd dissipated. The woman whose arm Janice clutched gently disengaged herself and walked off.
She had to do something. She couldn't stand here and let everyone think Mulloney had murdered an old man in his bed. It didn't even make logical sense. What in heaven's name would a man like Peter Mulloney get out of murdering some old man he didn't even know?
Maybe she could use logic to have him released. She knew better than that. Logic didn't explain the wildfires that swept the town or the floods that inundated it in spring. Logic didn't explain the senseless use of guns on Saturday night. Logic explained very little of life. Vengeance was the only recognized logic. No one would question why a man would set fire to a shack. The shack burned and a man died.
That was fact. Someone had to pay for it. Mulloney was convenient.
Janice wondered how soon Jason Harding would return. He wasn't likely to get caught up in the emotional melodrama that would seize the town now that the scent of a hanging hung in the air. She could talk to Jason. She shivered at the thought of how he would take it when he learned Mulloney had been sleeping in Betsy's bedroom. He wouldn't believe her claim of innocence for a minute. Neither would anybody else. But Jason would more likely keep his mouth shut about it.
But she would lose her job whether she told Jason or the sheriff. Female schoolteachers did not allow men to spend the night in their houses. That was another fact of life. To give Mulloney the alibi he needed, she would have to lose her job. She would have to leave Mineral Springs
Similar Books
