Brave Beginnings (34 page)

Sarita had a big advantage over her. Sarita
grew up here, so Chogan’s relatives knew her and were probably
comfortable with her. And as much as Julia loathed it, it did
appear as if she was ready to hit Sarita with the spade. Not that
it crossed her mind at the time, but who would believe her?

She hated Sarita. The woman kept popping up
all over the place, and even if Chogan and Woape thought it was a
coincidence, she really believed Sarita was following her.

“It’s a small tribe,” Julia muttered,
recalling their words. “You’re bound to run into Sarita sooner or
later.”

She huffed as she entered the lodge and threw
the spade onto the pile of gardening supplies on her way to the
only place she felt safe from Sarita: the room she and Chogan
shared.

“Too bad it’s not a little cabin out in the
middle of nowhere.”

What she really needed was to get away from
people. Whether it was Bismarck or here, it seemed someone was
trying to find a way to come between her and Chogan, and she was
getting sick of it. She plopped down on the bed and buried her face
in the pillow made of feathers. She fought off the urge to cry. She
was far too angry to cry, but even as she told herself this, the
tears slid down her cheeks and fell onto the pillow.

She wished her aunt was living there. If
anyone could understand how frustrating it was to know Sarita was
following her all over the place, it was her aunt. She closed her
eyes and imagined Erin finding her in the room and asking her what
was wrong. As Julia told her the whole sordid tale, her aunt would
rub her back and listen with the caring ears only someone like a
mother could provide. Thinking of her aunt’s soothing words and
gentle touch calmed Julia’s hot emotions until Julia found herself
drifting off to sleep.

In the span of what seemed to be a few
minutes but had to be longer since Julia was aware she had slept,
Chogan said her name. His familiar voice roused her from sleep. She
opened her puffy eyes as he sat next to her.

“I heard what happened with Sarita,” he
softly said.

She groaned and rolled onto her back so she
could see him. “I didn’t attack her. I was trying to get my spade
back. She kept taking it from me.”

“I gathered as much.”

She eyed him carefully. “Didn’t your mother
and aunts tell you I was ready to strike her?”

He shrugged and turned away.

She sensed that he was trying not to laugh so
she peered around his side and, sure enough, he was grinning. “It’s
not funny.”

“They described what you looked like,
hovering over her with the spade raised in the air as if you were
ready to strike. I got the image of a mighty hunter going in for
the kill.” He glanced at her, his eyes twinkling. “I bet you were a
terrifying sight.”

With a loud sigh, she rolled back onto her
stomach. “They think I tried to kill her or something.”

“No. They know what Sarita is like. They know
she provoked you.”

At that announcement, she rolled onto her
back again. “Really?”

He laughed. “Yes. Sarita has no business
being in our gardens. Her lodge is not close to ours. It’s obvious
what was going on.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. That was good
news.

He brushed the loose strands of hair from her
eyes and leaned forward to kiss her. “I’m sorry. I should have paid
more attention when you said she was bothering you.”

“She’s been following me. Whenever I go
somewhere, she’s nearby watching me. It’s creepy. Woape tried to
talk to her, but Sarita’s insistent that she’ll marry you.”

“That will never happen. There will never be
another woman for me but you, Julia.”

She gave him a shy smile and touched his
braid which reached his shoulders. “I want to be more like the
women here. You know, with the braids. How do you make these?”

“I’ll show you after you take a bath.”

She frowned. “A bath?”

“We’ll need to get cleaned up first.”

Her eyebrows rose in interest. “We?”

“You don’t think I’ll let you go to the river
by yourself, do you? I need to make sure Sarita doesn’t follow
you.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled
him closer to her so that their lips were mere inches from
touching. “You’ll send her running off then?”

“With my bow and arrow,” he promised with a
sly smile.

“Now that’s something I’d love to see.”

His lips met hers for a lingering kiss before
they headed to the river for a bath.

***

Two weeks later, Conrad glanced at his
brother as they stopped at the front door. “I owe you one,” he said
under his breath.

“Remember that when it’s time to vote,” Henry
replied.

“Who else would I vote for?”

He smiled at Conrad’s joke. “I hope you find
whatever it is you’re looking for.” He knocked on the door.

Conrad straightened his back, aware he was
ready to enter the lion’s den. Had he any other way to take a look
into Ernest’s house, he would have opted for it, but Ernest’s
record was too clean. No judge would allow a search warrant on
him.

Maybe Ernest is innocent. Maybe he didn’t
commit the crime.
Conrad rubbed his eyes. He’d exhausted all
leads in Fargo. This was his last hope.

The door opened and Ernest smiled. “Senator
Williams, welcome.”

Henry shook Ernest’s hand and motioned to
Conrad. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought my brother.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Ernest said, turning to
Conrad.

Conrad shook his hand and forced a smile.
“Good to meet you.”

Ernest let go of his hand and waved them
inside. “Come on in.”

Conrad followed his brother into the house
and scanned the entryway, the stairs to his left leading to the
second floor, and the parlor to his right. “This house seems
awfully big for a bachelor.”

“That would be true if a bachelor wasn’t well
off,” Ernest replied. “Before we have dinner, I want you to select
the wine for the meal.” He turned to lead them down the hallway on
the main floor.

Conrad sighed. That comment should have
evoked some kind of reaction from Ernest, but Ernest didn’t even
flinch.

Henry glanced at Conrad and raised an
eyebrow.

Conrad gave a slight shrug. Though Henry
didn’t know the exact nature of the case, he understood it was
serious. While Ernest led them to the door opposite the kitchen
entrance, Conrad studied his surroundings. A grandmotherly type of
woman hummed as she stirred something in a large pot.

“It smells good,” Henry told Ernest, nodding
to the kitchen.

“That’s the steak,” Ernest replied, looking
pleased by the compliment. “Mrs. Johnson adds just the right
spices.”

“Mrs. Johnson?” Conrad asked, taking a better
look at the woman with gray hair pulled back into a bun.

“I hired her shortly after I came to
Bismarck.” Ernest opened the door that led down a set of narrow
steps. “The cellar is where I keep the wine.”

Conrad glanced back at Mrs. Johnson. Just how
well did she know Ernest? Perhaps she saw something worth noting.
“I think I’ll stay up here and let you pick it out,” he told his
brother before he looked at Ernest. “Henry is the one who best
knows which wine to pick.”

“Alright. Make yourself at home.”

Conrad waited until the two men went down the
steps before he strolled into the kitchen.

Mrs. Johnson turned from the pot and smiled
at him. “You want to sample a bite?”

The corners of his lips turned up. “No thank
you. It does smell good, but I’ll wait. I have a feeling your food
is worth it.”

She giggled and waved her hand at him.
“You’re quite the charmer.”

“I’m stating the obvious. I gather you’ve
been a big help to Ernest.” He stood close enough to her so that he
could lower his voice. “Being a bachelor myself, I can attest to
our inability to cook meals this tempting.”

“All men should have a good home cooked meal.
It’s good for the body.”

He nodded. “No one can argue that. I can’t
wait to get married so I can eat better. The companionship will be
good too, of course.” He paused for a moment before he added, “I
suppose Ernest feels the same way.”

She sighed as she returned to the pot where
she stirred the soup. “The poor boy. He had his hopes set on
marrying someone, but she married another.”

“Oh?”

“The young lady broke his heart. It’s a real
shame too.”

“Really? What happened?”

She took the pot off the stove and set it on
the pot holder that rested on the table. “She married someone
else.”

“That must have been a shock.” He set another
pot holder on the table when he saw her retrieve the skillet with
the steaks in it.

“Quite, especially since she married one of
those Injuns.”

Conrad refrained from suggesting she use a
less offensive name to describe Chogan. Right now what he needed
was information, and he couldn’t do that if he upset her. “Well,
I’m sure he’ll find someone else.”

“I hope so. He’s been through enough.”

“You really like Ernest.”

She set the potholder on the table and placed
the skillet on it. “Of course, I do. I’m cooking for him, aren’t
I?”

“That’s true,” Conrad replied, drumming his
fingers on the table as he tried to decide the best way to get
information that might be useful. “This is a big house for a
bachelor.”

“It is and it’s not an easy place to
clean.”

“You clean for him too?”

“My husband passed on to meet the Good Lord.”
She sighed and made the sign of the cross. “I don’t necessarily
need the money, but it’s nice to be useful.”

He glanced around the kitchen. “You do an
impressive job. The place looks immaculate.”

She giggled and waved her hand at him. “You
really are a charmer, aren’t you?”

“Hardly. I’m just stating what I notice. You
keep this house clean from top to bottom.”

“Well, that’s almost true. Ernest won’t let
me clean the cellar.”

Conrad’s ears perked up. “Did he say
why?”

She shrugged. “Just said he wanted to keep
the bottles as they are. He’s very particular about his wine.”

Interesting, he thought as he turned his
attention to the open door that led down to the cellar. “Mrs.
Johnson, now you have my curiosity piqued. I must see those wine
bottles.”

“You should. It’s quite the collection.”

Conrad thanked her and hastened down the
steps. So Ernest didn’t want Mrs. Johnson cleaning the cellar. That
could only mean the evidence, if there was any, had to be down
here. When he reached the bottom step, he peered into the dimly lit
room where Henry held a kerosene lamp.

“Decided to join us, brother?” Henry asked,
turning to him from the center of the room.

Conrad inspected the rows of wine to the
right before he turned to the one wine rack close to the brick wall
on his left. He looked at Ernest who stood with a bottle in his
hands that Henry was inspecting. “Do you mind if I ask why you have
one rack over by this wall when you have three rows of racks on the
other side?”

“An odd setup, I admit,” Ernest replied. “The
wine to your left is my finest.”

Conrad nodded. “May I check them out? I’d
like to know what the finest wine is like.”

Ernest tucked the bottle of wine close to his
side. “Help yourself.”

Henry gave Conrad a questioning look but
didn’t say anything as he walked over to Conrad and lifted the lamp
in Conrad’s direction.

Conrad tried not to be obvious about
inspecting the rack or the wall behind it as he pretended to study
the wine bottles in front of him. The light from the lamp did
little to give him proper lighting so he couldn’t tell if there was
anything unusual about the wall. It looked like the other walls in
the cellar. He’d heard of a case where a man killed his business
partner and buried him in the cellar and built a wall to hide
him.

With a heavy sigh, he straightened up and
pointed to a bottle at random. “This wine is tempting, don’t you
think, Henry?”

Henry wrinkled his nose. “That won’t go down
smoothly with the steak. The one Ernest is holding is better.”

Conrad scanned the rest of the cellar and
didn’t see anything suspicious. He was so close. He could feel it.
But he couldn’t figure out where he was supposed to be looking. His
gaze met Ernest’s, and he wondered if Ernest guessed why he was
there. To be on the safe side, he opted to give up his detective
work for the night.

He went over to Ernest and read the label on
the bottle he held. “I have to say I was wrong. This bottle will go
much better with dinner.”

Ernest smiled. “Henry has excellent
taste.”

“That he does,” Conrad agreed.

“Well, then we should head upstairs and drink
it.”

Conrad followed Ernest and Henry up the
stairs. He glanced over his shoulder and wondered where, if the
object he was searching for was indeed in the cellar, it might
be.

~~********~~

Julia rolled up her shirt sleeves after she
set the basket of clothes down by the river. As she pulled up her
skirt, petticoats, and rolled up her bloomers, she wondered if she
should try wearing a Mandan dress. Woape and Onawa didn’t have to
deal with these layers of clothing when they washed clothes, and
considering the beginning of June would lead to the hot
temperatures of the next couple of months, it might be nice to wear
something lighter.

But did she dare? Every time she thought
about it, her face flushed. Her aunt would faint if she knew Julia
was contemplating showing so much of her arms and legs to the
entire world. No. Better to deal with the discomfort—at least until
she could bear the thought of it without blushing. She couldn’t
even wash clothes in front of the other women because she didn’t
want them seeing her calves!