Page 17 of Taming Lady Temperance

James waited for her to continue her tale, but she offered no further explanations. Just stood stiff and defiant before him, much like another woman he knew.

“How exactly did a shot aimed for the sky end up going through the hotel window?” No one’s marksmanship was that poor.

The woman stubbornly refused to answer, so James turned to one of the young men he recognized from the M. T. Jones Lumber Company. “Reed, you see what happened?”

“Yessir.” The fellow nodded, his eyes wide as if afraid James might find a reason to haul him off to jail if he didn’t cooperate. “One of them scared chickens landed on her head right as she was fixin’ to pull the trigger. The dog givin’ chase rammed into the lady’s backside at the same time. Me and Jonesy were laughin’ about it till her gun exploded, and the hotel window shattered. That’s when we dropped our load and ran over to see if anyone had been hurt.”

James had to fight to keep his own lips from twitching as he pictured the events unfolding. Working to keep his stern lawman façade in place, he turned to the hotel manager. “Gaines, any damage besides the window?”

“Eight terrified guests who were in the lobby at the time.” He gave a disdainful sniff in the grandmother’s direction.

“Were any of them injured by buckshot or flying glass?”

The man sniffed again, then shook his head. “No. Thankfully, most of them had been preparing to enter the dining room and were not near the window when the shot was fired. I shudder to think what might have happened if anyone had been seated on the settee directly behind the glass. She could have killed someone with her carelessness!”

“If that dog hadn’t knocked into me, your precious window would still be in one piece!”

“My dog was just doin’ what dogs do. It was your fault for shootin’ when you had no business.” John Meyers, who had been obediently silent up until that point, jumped in to defend his hound, who was squirming in the boy’s arms, no doubt wanting his freedom restored so he could engage in another round of chase-the-chicken.

James cleared his throat with meaningful force, not about to let this group get out of hand again. Guilty looks accompanied closed mouths. “All right. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Reed, grab Jonesy and help the youngsters round up the chickens. If the crates that are busted can be fixed temporarily with a nail or two, see to it. The sooner we get those chickens contained, the sooner things will settle down around here.”

“Yessir.” Reed bounded away like a schoolboy who’d just been let out for recess.

“Meyers, find a length of rope for your dog and keep him tied up until the chickens are penned.”

“I got something at the smithy that’ll work,” Freeman volunteered.

James nodded. “Perfect.” He pointed a look at Meyers. “Stay close to the smithy for a while. I’ll need to get an official statement from you before I let you go. You too, Freeman.”

Both men murmured their agreement.

“Gaines, get that glass cleaned up and board your window. I’ll check back with you tomorrow to get an estimate on the damages.”

Once the men departed to take care of their assigned tasks, James turned back to the tiny, gray-haired woman in front of him. Her posture sagged, and her already petite size seemed to shrink even further. Gentling his voice, James leaned her empty shotgun against a nearby hitching post and pulled out a notebook and pencil from his pocket. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Edna Hanover.”

James made a note. “You kin to Elijah Hanover?”

She hugged her arms around her middle. “He’s my son. Them two boys are his nephews.” She nodded her head in the direction of the two youngsters herding hens. “Their ma and pa passed last month. Influenza. Elijah is takin’ us in.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.” Losing a child, a home. Was it any wonder she was determined to lose nothing more, even a bunch of silly chickens? “I’ll escort you out to your son’s place myself after I finish up here.” If it was up to him, he’d let her go with a warning, but the law had to be administered equally. If a liquored-up cowboy had fired his weapon in town, he’d be facing a hefty fine or three days in jail. James couldn’t ignore the crime just because he felt sorry for the perpetrator. “I’m afraid I will have to arrest you after we see to your grandsons, though. Elijah can come back to town with us and pay the twenty-dollar fine. You’ll be free to go until Judge Lynch calls your case. He’ll render a decision about the damages owed to the hotel. You can be home tonight before nightfall.”

Mrs. Hanover shook her head. “Elijah can’t afford to throw away twenty dollars. He’s already taking on three new mouths to feed when he can barely feed the five he’s got. I’ll take the jail time, Deputy. How many days should I expect?”

“Three, but surely that won’t be necessary.” Great galoshes. He did not want to be the man who locked up somebody’s grandmother in the same cells that held cattle thieves and outlaws. What would Sheriff Adair think when he got wind of it? “Why don’t we wait and talk to Elijah? I’m sure we can work something out.”

“This is my problem to deal with, and I’ll decide what action needs to be taken.” Her eyes narrowed, and James found himself reaching for the shotgun he’d set down a moment ago just in case she took it into her head to beat some sense into him. “I know my own mind, and neither you nor my son will talk me out of it.” She pushed past him. “Now step aside and let me have a word with my grandsons before you drag me away in irons.”

James bit back a moan as he moved out of her way. Drag her away in irons? He prayed that turn of phrase didn’t show up in the Albany News. He might not have to worry about Noreen O’Sullivan ruining his chances to be elected sheriff, after all. Apparently, he was perfectly capable of blackening public opinion of his fitness for office all on his lonesome.

Chapter

9

By the time Deputy Paxton returned to the courthouse square, most of the crowd had dispersed. John Meyers had come through fifteen minutes ago with tales of a trigger-happy grandma who’d nearly shot his dog. There’d been chickens and a broken window involved somehow, and the boy seemed particularly put out by the fact that the deputy had made him leash his dog. A few of his neighbors cheered to see the energetic pup curtailed, spouting woes of dug-up gardens, spooked horses, and chewed shoes credited to the hound’s penchant for mischief.

With their curiosity assuaged, people returned to their homes and their interrupted dinners, eager to discuss the evening’s events. Noreen felt a similar craving for food and conversation, especially since her dinner companion would have the best details to share. However, when he finally put in an appearance, he wasn’t alone. A stone-faced woman in a faded red calico dress strode by his side, a travel bag in her hand. She lifted her chin high, even if it barely reached the deputy’s shoulder, but it was the glistening film in her eyes that grabbed Noreen’s sympathy. How many times had she worn the same expression? Displaying a brick wall to a world that stood against her even as her heart crumbled like old mortar within her breast.