The Belle of Eerie, Arizona - Chapter 6, Part 1

Posted 01-07-20 
Revised 04-07-20 

By Christopher Leeson

Chapter 6, Part 1

Saturday, December 23, 1871 Continued


"I watched the first dance," George remarked with steady casualness, as if he was overlooking her stumble. "I didn't see you in it."

Myra tossed her head. “That's because I wasn't in it.”

“You really dislike dancing, don’t you? You’re different from almost any other girl I know.”

“I’m sure I am. Maybe it's because I like to read.”

“A lot of girls tell me that they read all the time.”

Myra gave a snort. “I’m not talking about Friskie the Pony or Little Prudy. I like to learn things. The world's a big place, but most girls can’t get their minds around anything bigger than a wedding ring.”

“What do you call a ‘big thing’?” asked young Severin.

“James Fenimore Cooper, maybe. He tells how the country started out. A lot of his stuff is worth a read, but if you ask me, I think his character Natty Bumpo talks too much. How can a man stalk a deer if he can’t keep his mouth shut for two minutes?”

“What else are you interested in?”

“I finished First footsteps in East Africa not too long ago. Richard Burton didn’t sit around dreaming up wild adventures; he actually lived them.”

“Well, you’re different, all right. Were your girl friends just like you?”

“Living way out in the country, I didn’t...” She paused, focusing her mind. When lying, a person had to be careful. 

“The only girls I knew were at school. Suddenly they started talking about clothes and boys all the time and I started preferring to be away from them. I could depend on my brain to keep me company.”

“And what did your brain talk to you about?”

“Sailing off to strange lands, for one thing.” She paused, frowning. “By the way, Aunt Irene told me that I didn't have to talk to you unless I want to.”

“Is that how it is? Do you always do what your aunt tells you?”

“Not when I can avoid it.” She looked back at the exit. “Excuse me, I'm too busy for all this yakking about nothing.”

“Busy doing what? Eating?  If you don’t slow down, you’re going to fatten up like a spring calf.”

Myra scowled. "Anyone who doesn't like the way I look can leave me alone.” 

“Right now you look real fine. I’d even put my name on your dance card, if you’d let me.”

“What dance card? No body gave me a dance card.”
“That was a figure of speech."

“Well, then, you ought to work on your figures of speech,” observed Myra.

“I’d rather work on my dancing. From what I’ve seen, you could use a little more practice, too.”

“Why don’t you find someone who actually wants to dance, if you’re so fired up about it.?

He glanced around the room. “As far as I can see, every other girl I know is already paired up with some fella or other. That makes it hard for a man.”

“Why ask me to dance? You don’t really like me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“If you did, you wouldn’t work so hard at being the most frustrating person in the world to talk to.”

“If you could get over being so snappish, I could like you a whole lot.”

Exasperated, Myra turned to leave, but then paused. In truth, she had no place to go and nothing to do.  If she were too standoffish, someone would surely notice her “odd behavior” and start gossiping. That could hurt her in the long run.

“If you want to dance,” she said, “fine. I've got nothing better to do until about eight. But I’m telling you, I won’t enjoy it and I’d only be doing it to kill time. It won't mean that I like you and if you start jabbering too much, I’ll leave you cold.  Agreed?”

He grinned. “Who do you think I am? Natty Bumpo?  Sure. What a lady wants, a lady gets. But I have a condition, too.”

“What?”

Let’s not get ourselves roped into square dancing. I’ve had all the square dancing I can stand for one week.”

“At least we agree on one thing,” said Myra.

#

Myra and Irene didn’t leave the party until nine and were by no means the first family to do so. Dancing had made the time speed up.  When the caller told the people to get into line for a square dance, George drew Myra out of the crowd. Noticing that Dale and Kayley were sitting together on a bench, he led his dance partner over to join them. The couple discovered them in good spirits, having found male dance partners.

After the objectionable square dance was over, George and Myra went back to join in a mazurka, while the farm girls went scrambling to partner up again. After about twenty minutes on the floor, they were game for more rest.  This time, Rosedale’s and Kayley’s partners brought them glasses of punch and then hung around, even joining into the conversation. 

Within so large a group there was a lot of chatter, some of it annoying. Whenever a person expressed an opinion that Myra disagreed with, she'd answer back. In the course of the debating, Miss Olcott noticed that it was usually the girls who were most tenacious in having their own way. That figured; boys didn’t like quarreling with girls and would generally let them have the last word when it became clear that gentle prodding wasn't going to make them see reason.

When Myra got around to asking about the time, she found out that it was a little after eight. Excusing herself, she sought out Irene to ask her about going home. The Swedish galoot was close by, naturally, hanging at her aunt's elbow, smiling like a prospector clutching a handful of nuggets. Against Myra’s wish to go home, Irene made a plea for patience. She was then in the midst of a pleasant conversation and wanted it to continue. Rather than hang around and be subject to the pair’s silliness, Myra trudged back to rejoin her young neighbors. Soon, they were on the dance floor again and it was about nine when Irene Fanning showed up, being ready at last to return to the farm.

The morning of Christmas Eve required that they do their regular chores with added haste. Irene was bound and determined to attend the Christmas service and introduce Myra to additional people. As it turned out, a good many of the congregation chose to to greet her before the service started. When some of them launched into chit-chat about unimportant things, the girl did her best to endure the ordeal. It was almost a relief when Reverend Yingling’s sermon began. 

The introductions, good wishes, and empty complements resumed when the kinswomen stood in the lunch line following the service. The church ladies had donated a good many savory treats, some of them being leftovers from the party. 

While the two were filling their plates, Mrs. Netia Severin, a handsome woman arrayed in her Sunday best, approached them, expressing regret that Thorn's body couldn't be found. The lady assured Aunt Irene that her husband and the other men had done absolutely everything possible to locate him. 

Irene replied with profuse thanks for the menfolks’ unselfish effort. At that point, Mrs. Severin extended a holiday invitation. “The two of you shouldn't be alone with your grief on Christmas day, of all times. And we don't want Myra to start thinking that Eerie is an unfriendly town. The whole family would be very pleased to have you both over for our Christmas dinner.”

“I think that would be wonderful, Netia,” replied Irene. “Myra, what do you say?”

The girl gave a neutral shrug and a forced smile. She could hardly be enthusiastic about spending more time in the company of George. 

It was then that the dancing Swede, Tor, showed up and again engaged Mrs. Fanning’s attention.  Once their plates were full, he and Irene drifted away to one side. Myra gladly sought out a quiet corner where she could chow down undisturbed.

After lunch, back home again, they changed into their work clothes and got busy. The shadows were long and the afternoon chores needed doing.  Myra fed and bedded the animals and milked the cows as usual. Meanwhile, Irene fixed them both a light supper. In the midst of their dining, Myra heard steps outside.

Immediately after, a knock sounded; Miss Olcott went to the door to welcome the caller.  “Sheriff,” said Aunt Irene when she set eyes on the man outside, “whatever brings you out at such an hour? By now, I’d think that the townsfolk must be settling down to their meals.”

“I’ve had a busy day of it, but because I was passing by anyway, it seemed like a good opportunity to speak with the young lady,” replied Dan Talbot.

Mrs. Fanning glanced curiously to her niece, and then back at the lawman. “What is it, Sheriff?”

“Don’t fret. We’re having a deuce of a time catching those outlaws. I’m hoping that Miss Myra might offer some opinion about where the three of them have holed up in the past. I'd like to speak to her privately, if you don't mind.”

“Is the matter extremely serious?”

“It’s routine. But I wouldn’t want to stir up any bad memories for you, ma’am.”

The hostess regarded him soberly.  “Very well. When you two are finished, please do come back in for supper.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Fanning,” the tall man replied. “I’ll gladly take a bite, but won’t be able to stay long. On Christmas Eve, my Amy always makes our supper a fancy one.” He smiled. “She wants to make every minute of the holiday as special as possible.”

“Your home life must be very pleasant,” Irene said.

“It satisfies me,” Dan replied. Then he looked to Myra. “Miss Olcott,” he addressed the potion girl, gesturing toward the door.

Myra followed him outside into the dark. The air felt colder than it had before.
Talbot paused by the corral fence.

“If you’ve been so all-fired busy, did you have time to check out what we were talking about?” the girl asked.

Sheriff Talbot nodded. “What kept me occupied was making holiday calls on Ozzie Pratt, Dwight Albertson, and Judge Humphreys.  Ozzie has an archive of old newspaper issues from the war years, and he has a pretty good memory, too. The judge only came to Arizona after the war, but he has the records that were passed on to him by the former justice of the peace.”

“Yeah, so did those three know anything?”

“Some things, but the information I have is pretty sketchy.”

“I didn’t say you had to make a rush of it. I want to know the whole truth, no matter how long it takes,” replied Myra.

“I know how impatient young people can be. I thought you’d prefer if I kept you filled in.”

"I appreciate that, Sheriff.”

"I first wanted to find out if your folks had had a motive to steal. I checked at the bank with Mr. Albertson. He was willing to tell me quite a bit, since the people under investigation have been passed away now for a long while. He said that they'd been late with several payments on their bank loans. He also had heard talk that the couple had exhausted their credit with most of the merchants around town. 

"Then things changed. In the early summer of 1864 they started making prompt payments to the bank, until the loans were settled. They didn’t take out any more loans and they made decent deposits. As far as Dwight could see, they were paying off their store bills, too."

Myra looked away uneasily. "My aunt has said more than once that my parents left the farm debt-free."

"Do you have any idea how they could have improved their situation in some honest way?"

"No, I don't," Myra said solemnly. "They were always worried about the bills, and then things were suddenly better."

“Be that as it may, I was also interested in learning about old robberies, especially those where the outlaws never became known. Nothing I found out seemed to fit the situation, not until Ozzie brought something up. He he showed me a story from May of 1864. There was a robbery and it was an important one. Just bear in mind that it might not have anything to do with your parents. I wouldn’t you worrying for no good reason.”

The girl stood quiet for a moment. “I can take a punch,” she finally said. “The worse thing is standing around not knowing what to believe.”

“Are you sure? You can’t squeeze an orange and then put the juice back.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“All right, if that's how you want it." Myra Olcott waited expectantly.

“A couple of prospectors struck it rich back in 1862 and then sold out to a small company, the first professional mining outfit that ever set up around Eerie. It was called Rexler and Colby.”

“I’ve think I've heard the name.”

“You may have. They pulled out of Eerie a little after the war, moving over to the big strike at Red Dog. But in 1864 they were doing well enough. That spring something bad happened.  A trusted clerk, Thomas Mifflin, emptied their on-site safe and got away with some cash and a good number of rough-cast ingots.

"There was a determined manhunt, of course. A soft-handed clerk shouldn't have been able to outsmart experienced trackers, but they never caught him. All they ever found was his horse, which turned up in Phoenix. Someone had brought it in to the marshal there, saying that he’d found it hitched to a tree at the edge of town. It was carrying no useful evidence. The general opinion held that Mifflin must have acquired another mount and abandoned the one he had because it could be identified as his.”

“Another horse? Are you sure? Don’t you think that he could have left town by stage?” offered Myra.

“That possibility was considered. The trouble is, no stage man remembered anyone matching Mifflin’s description, nor anyone who was carrying a suspicious piece of heavy luggage.  No stable man or local would admit to selling a horse to Mifflin, either. Likewise, there were no reports of a recently stolen horse in the vicinity. Possibly, a confederate had purchased a fresh horse somewhere and swapped it with him somewhere near Phoenix.”

“Are there any ideas about who this confederate could have been?”

“No, there isn’t. There's no actual no proof that he ever had a helper. All that’s certain is that, from the day of the robbery, no one ever reported seeing anything of Mifflin again. His friends and relatives, even those back East, were questioned, but none of them had heard from him in months, if not years. No evidence ever came up to gainsay them.”

“So, what does any of this have to do with my folks?”

Dan grimaced. “I don't like to speculate.”

“Maybe you’re supposing that they could have been in with the thief on the plot.”

“Possibly so, but I hope that I’d be wrong.”

“What are the other possibilities?”

“They'd all be be guesswork. Hell, the whole picture is just guesswork.”

Myra shook her head. “From all you’ve said, there’s no good reason to think that Mifflin knew my parents at all.”

“That's the likely truth of it. It would be hard to break open a case that’s so old, but if you think that your aunt could give better information, you should be talking to her.”

“I don’t dare bring it up with Irene. She might use that potion magic to make me shut up about the whole affair. But the fact is, I know that she knows something. I think there must be another letter that would tell us more. I asked the neighbors if any mail had come in for my folks soon after they’d died, but they said that they’d left it to the postmaster to handle. They supposed that Irene must have picked up any letters there soon after she arrived.”

The lawman frowned. “If your aunt had written an incriminating letter to your ma, she might have destroyed it once it got back into her hands.”

“Maybe so. Are you going to keep investigating?” 

“I'll do what I can. People like to talk about outlaws, if you give them half a chance. Maybe somebody has a new piece of the puzzle, one that I don’t know about yet. I can dig through all those old records and news stories. They might cite some other crime stories that might send us down a different trail. The search could be time-consuming, though. Don't expect anything from me too quickly. Maybe there won't be anything at all.”

“Can't you be the one to question my aunt?” Myra asked suddenly. “Like I said, I don't dare do it myself.”

“It’s a sad business, lad. Think about what it would mean if she did know something. For all these years it would have been eating on her just as badly as it’s eating on you now. There are times when we should let the past bury the dead. Whatever she may know, she’s probably not guilty of anything under the law, except protecting her family’s reputation. I’ve always thought of Mrs. Fanning as a good woman. Am I wrong about that?

“She’s decent enough, but if my folks turn out to be completely different people from anything I supposed, maybe that’s true of Irene, too.”

Dan regarded her thoughtfully. With an effort, he said, “If you’re hoping to find out that your parents were perfect people, you never will. Everybody’s got something to hide. Hell, there are plenty of lawmen around today that were once wanted outlaws themselves. If you keep turning over rocks looking for something ugly, you may regret it. Digging up lost secrets can hurt people, and -- as like as not -- it can hurt you, too. If you loved your ma and pa, the wisest thing would be for you to hold on to those feelings. Don’t muddy up something good with unproven suspicions.”

Myra had no more talk left in her, and so they went back indoors. Dan Talbot accepted a plate of savory chow and when Irene asked whether Myra had given him any good information, the lawman answered laconically. “She mentioned a deserted cabin near Yuma that the gang used once in a while.  I’ll wire the local sheriff to check it out.” After that, his answered were hard to pin down.

Dan soon excused himself and rode off home. Myra was left at the table with dark and heavy thoughts. Later, in bed, she decided that the decent thing would be to stay mum until after Christmas. Then, if there were no other trails of evidence to follow, it would be time to put some serious questions to Irene, no matter what the consequences might be.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 6, Part 2