A Bride for Cameron by Barbara Goss (read novels website .txt) 📗

“Indirect sleuthing, of course.”  Hannah’s mind whirled for ideas.  “I know—neither Mrs. Wilson nor Mrs. Monroe attend our church.  I could pay them a visit to invite them to a service.”

“Why would you want to get involved?” he asked.

“I love mysteries and detest unsolved ones.”  She also knew it bothered Cam to think he let a murderer off. To her, it was a sign that he had some decency in him.  Maybe he wasn’t such a cold, uncaring man, after all.  If only he’d show more love to the children.

“What about your sheriff?  Didn’t he investigate at all?” she asked.

Cameron laughed.  “Stafford?  He’s a lazy, good-for-nothing slug.  He went through the motions but did very little.  I’d love to see him replaced.”

“What a shame.”

Cameron made her jump slightly when he took her hand, as she hadn’t expected it. “Did I startle you?”

“A little. I was daydreaming about how I’ll go about things.  What do you know about Mrs. Monroe and Mrs. Wilson?  Do you know why they don’t attend our church services?”

“No, but I do recall discussing the case with Bessie who knows quite a bit about everyone in town, and she said she’d never met either of them.”

He squeezed her hand.  “Thank you for spending time with me.  I really hope to know you better.  We shall have to do this every Sunday evening.”

He let go of her hand, and she said, “I’d be delighted.”

Hannah had a difficult time falling asleep in bed that night.  She kept running the murder scenario through her head.  Something definitely was not right.  Mrs. Wilson had to know who killed Monroe. It had happened in her bedroom, after all.  No one slept that soundly.

After breakfast, Hannah settled the children in the playroom and went in search of Bessie.  She found her in the back room, doing laundry.

“Need some help?” Hannah offered

“Oh, my, no.”  Bessie laughed.  “I’m nearly done.”

“Are you sure?  I don’t mind helping.”

Bessie looked up at Hannah for several minutes as if to judge her motive, then she smiled.  “I need to hang these things on the clothesline.  Grab that jar of clothespins.”

Hannah followed Bessie out the back door, and Bessie hung the clothes while Hannah handed her the pins.

“Bessie,” Hannah began casually, “have you ever met Mrs. Monroe or Mrs. Wilson?”

“Mercy, no!”

Her answer surprised Hannah.  “Don’t they live in Hunter’s Grove?”

“Oh, yes, but they aren’t the kind most in town would mix with, if you know what I mean.”

Hannah handed her another clothespin.  “What do you mean?”

“I’m not one to gossip, mind you,” Bessie said as she hung the last shirt,  “but, it’s no secret that both women were um... employed at the... ah...”

“Saloon?” Hannah offered

“No, worse.  There's a house at the far end of the main street where women do... um... favors for men in return for money.  Wilson and Monroe frequented the place, and for some reason each of them married one of the women.  Now, there is a shortage of single women here in town, so it’s not as uncommon for a customer to buy a woman from the owner and marry her.”

Hannah’s mouth had fallen open during Bessie’s news, and she closed it promptly.  “I had no inkling.”

Bessie grabbed the jar of clothespins and motioned for Hannah to follow her into the house.  “Mind you, now, I don’t judge others—that’s God’s job—but none of the decent people in town will mix with those two women, married or not.”

Hannah reached out and grabbed Bessie’s arm, stopping her from entering the house.  “God forgives people of their sins, right?”

Bessie looked confused.  “Well, of course.”

“Then why don’t I invite those women to church.”

Bessie gasped.

“If anyone needs forgiving, Bessie, it’s those two.”

Chapter Nine

“I plan to take a ride out to see Mrs. Morgan and Mrs. Wilson and invite them to a service,” Hannah said firmly.

Bessie stared at Hannah, speechless. “Hannah!” she cried.  “You can’t do that.  The church will empty like a sieve if those two walk in.”

“Then they aren’t truly believers.  Remember that Jesus forgave the adulteress?”

Bessie shook her head.  “Go ahead and invite them.  I don’t think they’ll come, anyway.”

That evening after dinner, before Cameron could run to his office, Hannah caught his arm.  “May I have a word with you once the children are in tucked into bed?”

Cameron nodded.  “Sure. I’ll be in my office.”

“No, you won’t,” Hannah said. “You agreed to the bedtime routine.”

“Ah, I forgot.”  He shrugged.  “Lead the way.”

“Wait—I shouldn’t have to remind you into seeing your own children tucked in for the night.  Who tucked them in before I arrived?”

Cameron waved her words off with his hand.  “I’m a busy man and I often forget, is all.”

Hannah gave him a frown before leading the way upstairs and to the children’s bedroom where Georgie was jumping on his bed, and Annabelle was reading a book.

“Bedtime,” Hannah said.

Georgie stopped jumping on the bed, and he crawled beneath his covers.

Annabelle closed her book and slid beneath the quilt. “What book will you read tonight?” Annabelle asked.

Hannah smiled up at Cameron.  “I think it’s your father’s turn tonight.”

She enjoyed the look of shock on Cameron’s face. After stuttering a few times, he finally said, “I’m not much of an out loud reader.”

“It doesn’t have to be read.  You could tell them a story instead.”  Hannah clapped her hands.  “Won’t that be a treat, children?”

Cameron looked cornered.  He sat down on the edge of Georgie’s bed.  “A story, huh?”

  Cameron had just gotten to the point where he actually felt something for Hannah.  She ran the house perfectly, cared for the children, taught them, and pretty much left him alone,  but the trick she’d just pulled on