Whistler in the Dark by Kathleen Ernst

called her name. At least, she thought it was her name. “Miz—Hendershun. Hender—Hendershun.” Dixie John was slumped at a table near the door to the back room, his hat pulled low on his forehead. Emma had been so eager to escape from Blackjack’s smug smile and veiled threats that she’d forgotten she’d meant to interview Dixie John, too! She hesitated.
    â€œCome ’ere.” He beckoned.
    Emma stepped closer. Whatever was in the big tin cup on the table in front of him smelled bad. He smelled bad.
    â€œI heard what you shed. What you said .”
    He’s drunk! Emma realized with disgust. She took a step back.
    â€œNo, wait.” Dixie John held up one trembling hand. “I know.”
    â€œYou know what?” Emma asked impatiently.
    â€œWhat—cher— lookin’ for,” he got out, as if she was an incredibly stupid girl who required great patience. “I dug too good, you shee.” He took another swallow from his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
    â€œExcuse me,” Emma muttered, but Dixie John managed to grab her wrist. “Itsh the gold!” he muttered. “You won’t believe me. But id—itsh all there. You can find it. You have to look ish … ish … th’ bird’s eye—”
    Blackjack’s hand dropped onto Dixie John’s shoulder. “I suspect Miss Emma has business elsewhere, my friend,” he said pleasantly. “And you are in no condition to talk with young ladies.” He nodded toward the door. “Go on,” he told Emma. “He won’t bother you. He always rambles when he’s drunk.”
    Emma wrenched her hand free and fled.

C HAPTER 9
    T HE W HISTLER

    As she bolted from the saloon, Emma almost plowed into Tildy Pearce. “Oh!” Emma exclaimed. “I beg your pardon!”
    Tildy’s tired eyes squinted into a smile. “I was so excited about meetin’ you this morning, I decided to head in early to make me some money.” She cocked her head toward the sound of the fiddle.
    â€œTildy …” Emma hesitated. The skin on her wrist felt itchy where Dixie John had held it. “Is it safe for you to be in the saloon? I mean—some of the men get drunk.”
    â€œMost of the men are just lonely,” Tildy said with a shrug. “I keep away from the heavy gamblers. They’re the only ones to cause trouble. A man in debt is a desperate man.”
    â€œWell, good luck,” Emma said, not sure what else to say. “And oh—I haven’t forgotten about your land deed. I’ll ask my mother tonight.” She watched as Tildy disappeared into The Raven, ready to dance the evening away.
    The rain had stopped, and Emma held her skirt out of the mud as she hurried back to the newspaper office. Blackjack’s threat and Dixie John’s ramblings made her uneasy. The haunting whistled strains of Maggie by My Side echoed through her mind. When a passing man nodded politely in greeting, she jerked away, then forced herself to take a deep breath. It was suddenly hard to tell what was real and whom to trust.
    She found her mother and Mule Tom bent over the printing press. “Oh, Emma, there you are,” Mother said. “I was hoping you’d get back before I had to leave. Jeremy’s father and Mr. Boggs and some of the other men are forming a Safety Committee, since we don’t have a sheriff yet. They’re meeting tonight in the room above Mr. Boggs’s store. I’ve been invited to attend and write a story about it. Do you want to come?”
    Emma considered. This would be the first formal gathering Mother attended in her Reform Dress. Heaven only knew what reaction that would provoke! “I don’t think so. When are you going?”
    â€œIn just a few minutes.”
    â€œMother! It’s almost suppertime!”
    â€œYou don’t mind going back by yourself, do you?”