Page 42 of The Promise
"No, I don't." He picked at the remainder of his cake, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut.
"Well, let me tell you right now, once they're grown you can't tell them anything."
"So what happened."
"One week she didn't come home. I got worried. So I hitched up my mule and headed over to Tintown." She paused and took a sip from her cup, composing herself, the memory obviously still painful. "They told me she'd killed herself. Drank a load of whiskey on top of some fancy patent medicine."
"Laudanum." Loralee added.
Patrick felt a tingle of concern. This was starting to sound familiar. "But you said Amos killed her."
"He did. I just couldn't prove it."
"But I don't see —"
Loralee cut him off with a wave of her hand. "One of the other girls swore she saw him climbing out the window." She met his gaze, waiting for something.
With a startling clarity, it all fell into place. He let out a low whistle. "Her door was locked from the inside wasn't it?"
The women nodded.
"But I still don't understand. If someone saw him there, why didn't they arrest him?"
Loralee choked back a bitter laugh. "And just tell me what makes you think anyone would believe a whore over a lawman?"
"I see." He paused, trying to assimilate it all. He looked over at Loralee. "You knew about this?"
She shook her head. "Only since this morning. I had no idea when we found…" her eyes filled with tears, making them look even larger.
Patrick hadn't meant to upset her. He was just trying to understand the significance of Ginny's story. "So you're thinking that he's done it again?"
"I'm not thinking it. I'm sure of it." Ginny reached over and patted Loralee's hand.
The girl wiped the tears from her eyes and squared her shoulders. Patrick had to admit she had courage. "Corabeth hated laudanum. She said it made her lose control."
"Well, maybe she changed her mind."
"You don't understand. One of the miners got rough with her once, broke her arm in two places. It was twisted funny and must of hurt something fearsome, but she refused to take anything for it. Not even whiskey. She felt real strong about it. If she was going to kill herself — and I'm not saying she was — she'd a used a shotgun before drinking that stuff."
"So you think Amos Striker killed her." He was repeating himself, but after everything he'd just heard he was probably entitled to a little repeating.
Both women nodded. Patrick sighed. They'd obviously made up their minds. But even if he accepted their version of the truth, there was still a gaping hole in the story. "Loralee, when we were with Doc, you told him you were with Corabeth early that morning."
"Right, she kept me company while I did my laundry." She frowned, a puzzled expression pulling her brows together.
"That's means she died sometime after that. Now, I saw Amos early that morning up in the mountains above Clune."
She looked deflated, turning to Ginny for support.
The Indian woman leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. "Was he with you all the time?"
"No, but it's a good ride back to town and there's the small fact that I spent the better part of the afternoon with him, arguing about who killed my father."
"Seems to me that still leaves plenty of time for him to slip back into town and find Corabeth."
"Maybe, but even if you accept that. There's still no reason why he'd do such a thing."
Loralee nodded in agreement. "I know. That has us stumped, too."
