Page 33 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
The bank proprietor, Mr. Paris, had checked the ledger containing information about the money Eric had deposited at the bank for safekeeping. One hundred dollars. It wasn’t a fortune, but if she was careful, hopefully it would get her by until after the sales from the produce and hay.
She’d earned a little already from the eggs and milk, and she had more to sell today. But the banknotes she’d withdrawn would allow her to purchase flour, yeast, baking powder, coffee beans, and other foodstuffs along with kerosene, chicken feed, and thread for darning the children’s clothing.
Before leaving, Mr. Paris had drawn her into his office and told her about a key Eric had placed at the bank for safekeeping. He’d indicated that Eric had wanted the key to stay confidential. Although Mr. Paris didn’t know what the key was for, he guessed perhaps it was for a small safe that Eric may have purchased and kept at his home.
She’d debated taking the key with her, but since she hadn’t seen a safe anywhere in the cabin or barn, she’d decided to leave the key at the bank where it wouldn’t be lost or stolen—at least until she discovered more about what the key might be for.
She’d have to ask the children what they knew about a safe. If they didn’t know anything, she’d have to search the property more thoroughly.
Regardless, she had the sinking feeling the key and safe were somehow related to Eric’s murder—that whatever he’d locked away was what the murderer had wanted. After the past couple of weeks of wondering, she finally had a clue to share with Franz, who’d been doing his best to find out why his brother had been murdered.
“Did we behave well enough to get something at the store?” Bianca sat primly on the wagon bench, hands in her lap, looking almost as proper as a princess.
Clarabelle shook off the foreboding and smiled at the children. “Yes, you did well.”
They smiled in return and climbed down. Worth’s General Store across the street was already busy at the early hour. As she crossed with the children, her gaze strayed in the direction of Dewitt’s Hotel again, even though she didn’t want it to. Franz was likely still inside enjoying a hot breakfast and coffee.
Maybe by the time she finished shopping, he’d be ready to leave for the farm and would ride alongside them. Even though she wanted to see him this morning, a part of her was afraid that he’d be so far enamored with Clementine that there wouldn’t be any room for affection toward her. Because that’s what always happened.
Yet, was she secretly hoping this time would be different? That Franz would like her better than Clementine?
“Miss Oakley, dear,” came the kindly voice of Mrs. Grover from down the boardwalk.
Clarabelle halted outside the store to find the matronly teacher hurrying toward her with her bustled skirt swishing with each step. Without school in session on Saturdays, Mrs. Grover was probably taking care of her errands too.
After exchanging hugs with the woman, Clarabelle sent the children ahead of her into the store and chatted for a few minutes with Mrs. Grover, catching up on how school was going, how the various children were coming along with their lessons, and the possibility of a recess for a week or two.
“I should go...” Through the front door, Clarabelle caught sight of Bianca and Dieter, who seemed to be remembering to use their manners with the storekeeper as well as the other customers.
Mrs. Grover’s smile faded, and a furrow formed between her brows. “I suppose you haven’t heard about the rumors?”
“Rumors?”
Mrs. Grover glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening, then she dropped her voice. “About you and Franz Meyer.”
“What could anyone possibly have to say about us?”
“Quite a bit, I’m afraid.”
Something fluttered in Clarabelle’s chest. She wasn’t sure if it was trepidation or anticipation. It had to be trepidation, because she surely didn’t want people gossiping about her and Franz, did she?
Mrs. Grover must have taken the silence as permission to continue. “With him riding out to the farm and spending every day with you alone, well...”
Clarabelle supposed his daily visits could be taken as more, but the children were there with them constantly, so they were chaperoned to some extent.
“Mr. Grover thinks it’s best if Franz cuts short his time here in Colorado before your reputation is ruined entirely.” Mrs. Grover’s expression was grave. “And I have to agree. I’d hate to have parents refuse to allow you to return to teaching at some point because they believe you’re... tainted.”
At the insinuation, Clarabelle dropped her head, too embarrassed to look the dear woman in the eyes or anyone else passing by. “I assure you, Mrs. Grover, nothing untoward is going on between Franz and me.” As much as Clarabelle disliked Franz courting Clementine, maybe it was for the best after all.
Even though Clarabelle had enjoyed his company and help around the farm, he had to be more careful about how much time he spent with them. Apparently, she needed to have a conversation with him today about the rumors, no matter how unpleasant and awkward it would be.
As the door of the general store opened, Mr. Irving stepped out onto the boardwalk and gave a slight bow. “Good morning, ladies.”
As the solicitor situated his tall top hat on his head, he towered above them.
Before Clarabelle could return the greeting, Mr. Irving was speaking again. “I hear congratulations are in order, Miss Oakley—or should I say, Mrs. Meyer?”
Congratulations? Mrs. Meyer? Clarabelle could only shake her head.
