Cute Enough To Stop Your Heart
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The next morning after breakfast, I paid a visit to the sheriff’s office. After asking for his assistance in finding someone who was missing their daughter and wife, I learned that she had been gone more than a year but had been seen recently.
He took my information and promised to follow up on it immediately. The deputy also took down all the particulars about our escape from jail as well as our rescue of Mrs. Arrington. That could prove helpful if we were ever brought up on charges in this town.
We then made our way to the bank. When I mentioned that I would like to withdraw money from my account, I learned that the bank wasn’t open yet. I thought I would stop by there before making my way over to the library. A glance at the clock revealed that the time was nearing ten o’clock. If I didn’t hurry, I’d be late.
“I have an appointment with Mr. Foscar,” I told the man who worked at the front counter.
“Is he expecting you?” he asked. “He’s not around today.”
“I have an appointment to view his books,” I said. “It’s very important.”
When I showed my appointment card, I was permitted to step inside. The bookshelves lined both walls, leaving little space for customers to stand and browse. Three people stood behind the counter, waiting on customers.
“May I help you?” asked the older woman wearing a pink apron. She was quite pretty but her face wore the look of someone who had lived long and seen much. Her hair was gray, but she did nothing to disguise that fact.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m looking for Mr. Foscar,” I answered.
“Mr. Foscar’s not here, dear,” the woman replied. “But he’s expecting you. Please take a seat and I’ll send him to meet you.”
The librarian suggested a comfortable chair, but I refused. I wanted to see the books, so I took a wooden bench in the far corner. The library smelled musty, probably because it hadn’t been properly cleaned since Mr. Foscar’s wife died. She had been a nice lady.
They had only been married three years since she passed away. His daughter had died shortly after giving birth to their child. Now, Mr. Foscar was a widower who doted on his grandchildren. He even occasionally allowed them to live with him.
I wondered how he could bear the loss of two daughters and a son-in-law in such a short period of time. I hoped I wouldn’t have to add the death of one of my parents to this list before the day was out.
An hour later I sat on the porch watching Mr. Foscar walk across the street toward the bank. As he neared his building, a large man followed him inside, carrying a large bag. A couple of minutes later, the door swung open and the man came out carrying a briefcase. He left it next to a chair outside the library.
Mr. Foscar looked up just as I saw him enter his office. Two more men were sitting inside, but I didn’t recognize them. A younger man also waited for Mr. Foscar. He was shorter than the other men, wearing a navy blue suit.
It was obvious from his mannerisms that he was a friend of the older man, who went into the back room to fetch his friend. When he returned, I could see that he was the younger man. I thought I recognized him, but couldn’t remember where I had seen him before.
“Well, well, well,” Mr. Foscar said as he entered the library. “Look at you! You’ve gotten much better looking in only a short time.”
The young man smiled. “I’m glad you think so, Mr. Foscar, although I’ve still a long way to go.”
I raised my brows when Mr. Foscar turned to me. “You’re right about one thing: I haven’t seen her since the wedding day,” he told his friend. “But then she wasn’t supposed to be there.”
The young man started to laugh. He probably never suspected that it was me he was speaking to. I didn’t understand what the joke was, so I said, “Is something funny?”
“We were wondering if this man is still missing his bride.”
“Yes, he’s been gone a long time. But he looks as happy as any man could be to have her back.”
“But that doesn’t explain why he’s wearing a black veil,” the young man said with a crooked smile. “And how come it took so long to return from her funeral? Does he want us to think she was dead all these years, too?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out, Joseph,” Mr. Foscar answered. He waved his hand toward me. “She’s still a stranger to us and we need to know what happened after the wedding. The best way to learn that is to speak to her.”
“Let me handle it, Mr. Foscar,” I said, standing. I heard a gasp behind me when I placed my hand on my hip. “You’ll get your answers sooner than later. I promise you.”
I didn’t expect Mr. Foscar to agree but he did. “Very well. Wait outside for me and I’ll let you know what I learn.”
The men left the library and I went inside. Mr. Foscar turned around as soon as I stepped through the door. “I’m so glad I found you,” he said. “Why didn’t you wait outside?”
“You can ask me that question when I’ve told you what I came here to do,” I replied. “Now, what is your friend doing here?”
Mr. Foscar glanced at the man who had been waiting outside. “He’s the one I was telling you about,” he explained. “He’s a very good attorney. He has taken up your case for free and agreed to help me get the records. We’re working on it now, although I must say we haven’t had much luck.”
“How many times have you been inside the bank?” I asked, trying to guess which documents Mr. Foscar was searching for.
“It’s a large place, so it takes quite some time to search every room and every book.”
I waited for him to finish his sentence but he continued without saying another word. He motioned toward a chair and said, “Have a seat, Miss…?”
“I’m not in any hurry. But it would be helpful if you could tell me why you want to know about me.”
“You’ll see soon enough,” he said with a shrug. “First, I need you to sign these papers.” He pulled out two blank forms, one of them bearing the name Miss Elizabeth Burdette. The other one read: Elizabeth Burdette, a married woman.
He placed them on a table next to the door. “When you’re done, sign your name on the right side of the paper. I’ll take the ones I need for my investigation, but I’ll make sure that you get the others.”
“That would be very kind of you, but what happens to me then? It seems that I’d be at a disadvantage because you can read my signature.”
“That’s what attorneys are for,” he answered as he handed me one of the forms. “We’re used to dealing with all sorts of people and situations, so we learn to read what most people try to hide. And it’s not just your signature, it’s your eyes that speak volumes.”
I thought about this while I finished signing my name. Then I took the pen from him and asked, “Why me?”
“I told you before,” he answered. “You were a witness to a terrible crime and you helped convict the perpetrator.”
“But there are so many witnesses at the courthouse,” I protested.
“There are, but no one can match your testimony, which was very clear and precise. You’re the only one who can help me prove that his client is innocent. That’s why I’ve been looking for you. Now that I’ve found you, it would be best if you waited outside.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s fine by me if you agree, but we will be talking business. If I want to interview your husband, he’ll have to accompany us back to town.”
The more I talked to Mr. Foscar, the less I liked him. But I did need to find out how much money was in that safe. How many times had my father said that being the man you wanted to start with made a decision to do so? My father would be disappointed to hear me say that I didn’t like Mr. Foscar and that I would rather wait until I spoke with Mr. Burdette before I signed anything.
“Very well,” I said, holding my hand toward him. “Give me a moment to gather some clothes and I’ll be right outside.”
As I left the library, I wondered what kind of outfit would fit me best. I walked through the house, searching for a closet or dresser that might contain a suitable dress. Then I opened one of the doors and gasped. There it was, just as Mr. Foscar described.
A beautifully crafted wardrobe with a gold handle. I ran my hand along the polished wood and said, “This belonged to Mr. Burdette. He must have collected beautiful furniture because his bank is full of fine pieces.” I took off my slippers and then slowly stepped inside the wardrobe.
I took a quick look at myself. I was in my underwear but I could always go back upstairs and put on something else. I grabbed a few dresses from the wardrobe and quickly slipped into them. The next thing I knew, I was wearing a silk-lined coat, a light green dress with lace trim around the hem, and a matching bonnet. As I looked in the mirror, I felt very much like a lady.
As soon as I got outside I found myself staring at the large man who had been waiting for Mr. Foscar.
“Who are you?” I asked him.
He didn’t reply; he merely stood there as if he wanted to measure me up with his eyes.
“You can leave now unless you want to accompany us back to town.”
“I’m not here,” he replied. “I’m just passing by.”
It wasn’t until we reached a horse and wagon that Mr. Foscar introduced him to me as Chief Burdette. “Chief Burdette, this is Miss Elizabeth Burdette.”
The chief nodded his head but did not speak. He just sat there staring at me. His expression was hard to read, so I decided to say nothing. I didn’t know what Mr. Burdette was trying to accomplish or why I was the only one he needed.
Perhaps it was because he wanted to make sure he got a good deal on the safe, or maybe it was because he didn’t trust me to remain silent about what happened to my father and why I came to this territory in the first place. But I would be a very poor liar, so he couldn’t take that risk.
We rode slowly down the road, and as we traveled, I watched the trees pass by as they turned into grasslands that rolled for miles in each direction. As I gazed at the endless fields, I noticed that the horizon was never quite straight.
The land seemed to have been sliced off at a forty-five-degree angle from the ground. It reminded me of an old book about maps and I realized that if the map were flat, the entire area would have been flattened.
I looked up and saw the sun setting behind the western mountains. Then I looked back and found that the eastern mountains were still there as well. So the west must be higher than the east, but how could this be possible when the entire land seemed to be flat?
“Is this all there is?” I asked.
The chief’s face was very much like Mr. Foscar’s. His features were hard and unyielding. I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me or simply indifferent. He just stared ahead as if I wasn’t even there.
“Are you happy here in this nowhere land?” I asked him. “Don’t you want to move someplace more exciting where you can find other people who share your beliefs?”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then he finally looked over at me. “There are people just like us.”
“But I haven’t seen them.”
He remained quiet.
“And don’t you think it’s odd that you’re the only ones who live out here?”
“You won’t see us in town or on the train, but we’re everywhere,” Chief Burdette replied. “Even in big cities like St. Louis and Chicago.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This is our home.”
I stared at his hard eyes for a long moment, trying to get some sense of him. “I thought this was all a part of the Louisiana territory,” I said. “I mean, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“This is not a part of the Louisiana territory but a whole different state.”
“So, I guess I was mistaken.”
“You’ll understand one day,” he said, and then turned away.
“Mr. Foscar, why did you choose this location as our safekeeping?”
The wagon rolled through another small settlement where Mr. Foscar stopped to speak to some cowboys. They seemed very surprised by the sight of three black men traveling in the back of a wagon with a woman dressed as a lady. I wondered if they would treat me differently once they found out who I really was.
“Chief Burdette is here for the same reason I am. He’s one of us. No one knows what will happen in the future, so we all need to be prepared.”
“I thought it was just to keep my father’s collection safe,” I said.
“No, there’s more. Much more.”
“I’m going to see what’s in the safe.”
As we approached the small ranch where the safe was being kept, I realized that it was unlike any place I’d ever visited before. The land was flat and open, but the buildings were very small and well-spaced out. Most of them had been built along the railroad tracks.
I thought that this was odd because no one in their right mind would choose to live here, yet there seemed to be several dozen people living here. They seemed like good citizens. At least most of them looked like they could afford to buy horses and wagons instead of walking everywhere.
A few of the men and women working at the ranch stopped to stare as we passed by. I saw Mrs. Pines waving her hand. She must have been the wife of the ranch owner. Her husband seemed very friendly with Mr. Foscar.
“It’s like they’re trying to say hello,” I told the chief.
“They do that sometimes,” he replied. “We’ll stop at our ranch to pick up more supplies.”
“What kind of supplies are you looking for?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar and lit it. Then he took a long drag and smiled. “The kind that comes from the smoke of tobacco.”
“Are you joking with me?” I asked.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
He reached into the wagon and picked up two large barrels full of beans and oats and we set off down the road again. The chief watched as the sun slowly disappeared behind the western mountains.
He kept looking back over his shoulder at the eastern mountain. As we traveled, I felt as if I was watching some sort of a movie. A strange story that couldn’t be real. I wondered when I would wake up.
***
That night we arrived at Chief Burdette’s ranch, and we unloaded the wagon. It was dark by the time we finished. The moon was bright and beautiful, and the stars were scattered across the sky.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I said.
Chief Burdette nodded as he handed me a lantern.
“Come with me,” he said.
“But I want to look around first. You know, see where the safe is.”
“Not tonight.”
“Please.” I followed him down a short hallway toward the front room. “My mother had to take care of me when I was very small,” I told him as we walked through the door. “She died before she could teach me anything.”
“How did she die?” he asked.
“Oh, a fever.”
Chief Burdette raised an eyebrow and turned away, but then he paused and looked back at me. “Did you like her?”
“Yes, I did. And so did my father.”
“Your father? Where is he now?”
“He died when I was young. I didn’t get a chance to know him.” I went over and sat on the edge of the bed. There were no windows in the room; I knew this because there was only one place to hang a lamp.
The walls were covered with the same sort of wallpaper found throughout the house. It had the same pattern as the dress I was wearing. “It was just my mother and me. I think she would have liked it here.”
The chief joined me on the bed. “You look like you belong here,” he said. “Like you were born to be here.”
“Why?” I asked.
“There’s something about you that reminds me of my mother.” He patted the mattress next to him. “Come sit by me.”
As I lowered myself onto the bed, Chief Burdette pulled his blanket over both of us. I wasn’t sure if he meant to snuggle up and go to sleep or what. I had never been touched before. I still wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort me, but I decided to let him do as he pleased.
If this is how he wanted to end this, then so be it. It seemed like an odd thing to tell the first woman you’d ever met, but he did seem very nice. He must have liked my mother very much. She must have really loved him.
We sat side by side on the bed with our arms folded tightly against our chests. Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
“You don’t seem like a thief,” I said after we sat in silence for some time.
“How did you know I was a thief?”
“Your eyes, your nose.”
I tried to smile. “What about my nose?”
He reached over and gently touched it with his finger. It tickled. “My mother always said that I looked like my father.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe because I’m a bit too thin and not as big as most men.” He grinned at me. “But my nose reminds me of my mother’s.”
“I see,” I told him. “You were adopted?”
He nodded. “I was, and I didn’t even get the chance to know her.”
“You’re lucky you found out about her now. You still got time to learn about her. I’ve heard from many people that the older you are the harder it is to remember.”
“That may be true,” he said. “But I won’t forget. No one will ever replace her.”
He stroked my hair and I thought maybe we should talk about something else. I wasn’t sure what we’d be talking about anyway, and I needed to keep reminding myself that I was not really there. That this couldn’t possibly be real. “How old are you?” I asked.
“I turned twenty-four two days ago.”
“And you grew up here in Kansas?”
“Yes, all of my life.”
“Did you go to school?”
“Not until I was twenty-five. I had a few years of schooling back in Tennessee.”
“Tennessee?”
“Yes, I was raised there with my foster father. He owned a ranch, but when I turned twelve my father passed away.”
“You mentioned Tennessee before,” I said. “What do you mean by ‘back in Tennessee’?”
“Oh, yes, my family is from Kentucky.”
“Kentucky! Oh, you have to be kidding me!” I knew it was some sort of joke, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. “My family is from Kentucky too! We’re from the same county!”
Chief Burdette looked confused as I sat up on the bed and leaned forward. He cocked his head as though he hadn’t heard right. Then his eyes widened. “Kentucky? From the same county?” he asked.
“Yes! The same county! How did you know that?”
“You must come from a very large family.” He grinned. “Or maybe you have many brothers and sisters.”
“Just two, and they’re dead,” I told him. “Just like your father.”
“That’s terrible, just awful,” the chief exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Did you know them?”
“Yes. My mother was my mother’s first cousin. I didn’t see her often when I was young, but I met her occasionally. She always seemed to get along well with my mother.” He paused for a moment. “And your foster father?”
“He was a good man. I miss him.”
“So I assume you were raised around here?” Chief Burdette asked. “In Kansas?”
“I suppose we are related,” I said. “I don’t really know much about my family tree.”
The chief nodded as if he’d expected this. “You could be related to me.”
“Really?” I asked.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” he replied. “My family is a big one. You could be my sister. If I had a sister. Which I don’t.” He glanced at me. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“Just a sister,” I answered. “She’s not dead either.”
“Then we may have a lot more in common than you think,” he said. “But I suppose I’m just kidding myself. You don’t have a sister and I don’t have a brother.”
“Oh, no,” I replied. “That’s not possible.”
“We’ll never know unless we ask our mothers.” The chief looked down at his hands. “It’s a shame that your mother didn’t leave you any money.”
“Money?” I frowned. “No, she left me some land. There will be plenty of work on the ranch, and I can start saving my share of the profits.”
He gave a little chuckle. “Don’t you mean she left you a ranch?”
“Yes, it’s mine now.” I felt strange talking to him about my inheritance. He hadn’t even asked about it. “I own a couple thousand acres.”
He whistled. “It must be nice.”
“Yes, and I’m going to make good use of it.”
The chief cocked his head as if listening to something else. “Are you all right?”
I wasn’t sure why he’d asked me that, but I was glad to hear that he hadn’t heard anything in the distance. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“I guess I’ll let you get some sleep,” he said. “We still have a long night ahead of us.”
The End