Horse With No Name (20 page)

"I'm not sure there are children in my
future, Mrs. Jones. Other than the ones I teach."

Millie tapped the corners of her mouth with
her napkin. "Don't be hard on yourself, Miss Thom," she said.
"You'll find a husband one day. Your penchant for riding astride a
horse won't offend every man. I'm sure there are some men who might
find that kind of..." she searched for a word, "unorthodox and
inappropriate behavior charming in some way. Wouldn't you say, Mr.
Cranna?"

Cranna was obviously stunned to be drawn into
this sudden sparring match. He spluttered a bit, swiveling his head
back and forth, caught between his hostess on his right and his
intended match on his left.

Julia rescued him, "Luckily, men of that sort
- the kind who welcome independent thinking and other nonsense -
are few and far between, Mrs. Jones. I needn't worry because what I
meant was that I'm not sure I want to have children. If I married
and had children I'd have to stop teaching, and that doesn't appeal
to me."

Millie made a noise that sounded like 'Pwwaa'
and her startled eyes darted around the table. "Surely you don't
mean that! Who would voluntarily remain a spinster?" She laughed at
the absurdity of it all.

"Not everyone can be as lucky as Betty and
Christopher and find true love," Julia said as she touched her
friend's arm. "Besides what's wrong with wanting a career?"

"Nothing in the least," Millie countered, "as
long as it’s temporary and a woman quickly finds her place in her
home and with her children." She looked at Cranna with an
expression that suggested Julia had just bought a one-way ticket to
the home for the mentally infirm. "Besides, where does 'love' fit
in with all this? A marriage is a partnership, a business if you
like. Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell know that full well. They literally run
a business together. And I'm sure they'll be producing children
very soon, as well."

Millie smiled benevolently at Betty, unaware
she'd just wounded her guest, who was unable to have children, and
very sad about it.

Julia reached for Betty's hand under the
table and squeezed it.

Much to Julia's relief, Millie turned her
attention elsewhere for the rest of the meal. She was not so lucky
with Mr. Cranna. He chatted to her about Scotland and his travels
that took him through the Panama Canal and up to San Francisco.
When, for the third time, Betty had to kick her gently under the
table because she'd drifted off and had missed a cue from Cranna to
ask a question, Julia reluctantly dragged her mind away from the
puzzle of Mr. Hunter.

"Tell me about San Francisco," she said,
taking pity on the tall, awkward man.

He looked so genuinely pleased to have
Julia's attention that she felt guilty about the way she'd treated
him thus far.

"The architecture is something to see, Miss
Thom. I stayed for one night at the Palace Hotel, and oh my,” his
eyes widened at the memory, "you can see the building for miles
around. It's taller than you can even imagine. And inside, right in
the middle of the building, at the very top, there's a huge
skylight that floods the building with light. It is so perfectly
impressive. Each hotel room has its own bathroom." He stopped and
waited for Julia's reaction.

"Amazing," she said, mustering the polite
interest her mother had instilled in her, "you were so lucky to
have spent a night there."

"Well," Cranna almost wriggled in his seat
with pleasure, "one night was all I could afford, but I couldn't
leave town without at least experiencing it."

By the time desert and coffee were served,
Julia knew as much about San Francisco as if she'd been there
herself. To her dismay, Millie orchestrated things so that Cranna
was able to position himself beside Julia in the parlor after the
meal. He continued their conversation by detailing for her the
horrors of oceanic travel and the seasickness he never got over
until he was on dry land again. Julia felt her nearly-inedible
supper roiling in her stomach at his descriptions and eventually
had to ask him to stop, fearing she might throw up on Millie Jones'
Persian rug. ("From Persia," as Millie had pointed out.)

"I'm so sorry, Miss Thom. I've been prattling
on. You must find me boring in the extreme."

"Oh no, Mr. Cranna," Julia lied. "The picture
you paint of your voyage is fascinating." She hoped she didn't
sound too insincere.

"Tell me," Cranna said, "what do you enjoy
most about teaching?"

Julia was amused that Cranna had enough
self-awareness to notice that his conversation partner was in need
of some attention. "It's challenging. Especially teaching such
varied ages. But I love it."

"How old are they?" He seemed genuinely
interested.

"The youngest is seven, and the eldest is
fourteen."

"They must adore you."

"Not when I make them do math sums."

Cranna continued asking her questions about
her work and her life in Horse. He tried to hide his shock when he
learned that she lived alone.

"I thought you lived with the Mitchells."

"No. They're good friends but I live on my
own. In a little house the school board provides for me."

"Really?" He thought about this for a moment.
"I can't see it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't imagine it. A woman living on
her own."

"You don't have to imagine it, Mr. Cranna.
It's happening."

Roy Meddy glowered at Julia throughout the
meal from his seat across the table. He said very little to his
wife who was on one side of him, or to Mayor Billy who was on the
other. Esther Meddy and the mayor seemed to be passionately
debating something. Millie had to shush them several times when the
debate became heated. Julia hadn’t caught the subject, but when the
mayor and Mrs. Meddy continued their politely veiled argument in
the parlor after dinner, she saw that whatever it was it meant a
tremendous amount to both of them.

Cranna excused himself momentarily from
Julia’s side, and like a shot Roy Meddy was at her elbow.

“Did you figure out how that little sissy
Hunter managed to cheat at the poker game?” he stage whispered.

Julia took her time answering, eyeing the
baker coolly. “I’m not sure I understand, Mr. Meddy. That’s not my
concern. What I’m trying to find out is who beat Mr. Hunter.”

“I’ll tell you this.” Meddy lowered his voice
even further. “When you find out who that little turd really is,
then you’ll have the answer to who put the boots to him.”

“What on earth do you mean, Mr. Meddy?”

“Just that. And I’ll also tell you this…”
However, Meddy was interrupted by his wife, who pulled herself away
from the mayor and came across the parlor floor to her husband’s
side.

“We must go, Roy,” she said, barely glancing
at Julia. “Morning comes far too early.”

When they left, Julia was still puzzling over
what Meddy meant about finding out who Hunter was.

"That odious woman makes my head ache." Betty
struggled pulling on her gloves and finally gave up and shoved them
in her pocket, taking her husband's arm. "And that food! I'm
starving, Christopher. I hope we have some of that soup left
because I'll need it when we get home. I could hardly choke down
whatever that meal was supposed to be."

"I think it was roast pork with potatoes and
greens."

"More like roast arse." Betty was never as
rude as when she'd just spent time with Millie Jones.

Julia chuckled. "How does she manage to
insult everyone at the table in the span of two minutes?"

"Cranna emerged unscathed," Christopher
pointed out.

"I don't know," Julia countered, "the
implication was that any man who was attracted to me had to be
touched in the head. I do think the intention, however, was to get
Cranna to like me. Implying that he was too stupid to run the other
way."

"Good luck with that," Betty said.

"Hey!"

"I didn't mean you're not immeasurably
attractive, my darling." Betty reached across her husband and
patted her friend's arm. "And thank you, by the way, for pulling
the spotlight off me after that 'when you and Christopher have
children' comment."

"My pleasure."

"What I meant was that Cranna didn't stand a
chance. You're so preoccupied with this issue with James Hunter
that you hardly heard a word anyone said."

"I made an effort to listen to Mr. Cranna and
his tales of travel. You'd think he was the only person to ever
cross the Atlantic," Julia huffed.

"He seems a decent sort," Christopher
said.

Julia relented, lowering her voice, "Oh, he
was fine. I'm just grumpy because I'm hungry and preoccupied." That
was when she asked, "What if Alan Cecil didn't do it?" She followed
with, “Also, Roy Meddy said the strangest thing tonight. He made a
comment about ‘figuring out who Hunter really is’.”

“What do you think he meant?” Betty
asked.

“I have no idea.”

Christopher was holding a lantern and guiding
their way down the dark street.

“He still denies hurting Hunter. I’m not
entirely sure I believe him though. What’s your assessment of him,
Betty?”

Betty thought for a few moments and then
said, "He is an angry man, that's for sure. I've not yet had an
encounter with him when he didn't seem like he was at the boiling
point. Although I might act that way too if I was married to his
wife.”

"But do you think he could be physically
violent?" Julia asked.

"There's no way to know really, is there? If
you push almost anyone far enough, they'll resort to violence.
Especially if they're trying to defend themselves."

"Whoever attacked Hunter wasn't acting
defensively. At least, that’s the way it looks to me.”

Both women were quiet, thinking some
more.

"What do you think, Christopher?" Julia
asked.

Christopher glanced down at Julia. He seemed
slightly startled to be included in the conversation. "Me? Oh,
goodness. I have no idea."

Julia tried to jostle an opinion out of him,
"Humor me, Christopher. Do you think Roy Meddy could be
violent?"

"Well, now," he waffled a bit, "I don't like
to think anyone could beat someone else up."

"But it happened. Do you think Meddy has it
in him to attack someone like Hunter?"

"I don't think so. I can't see him doing
that."

"But do you think it's possible?" Julia
continued to press him.

"Well, I…you see, I think..." Christopher
burbled a bit without saying anything.

Betty spoke up, "You won't be able to get him
to commit, Julia. My husband can't think ill of anyone."

Julia detected a note of frost in Betty's
voice. She suspected the couple had not completely resolved their
argument about the store's financial position.

The trio turned at a corner and stepped up
onto the sidewalk that ran in front of the shops in the Mitchell's
General Store's block.

When they reached the store's front door,
Betty turned to Julia. "Are you coming in for some soup?"

"Yes, please. I'm ravenous. How did Mayor
Jones get so fat on that woman's food?"

"Love is blind," Christopher said and opened
the general store's door for them. "And also without taste buds,
apparently."

***

"Julia, this makes me very nervous."

"Try to stay calm, Betty. We'll be out of
here in two minutes."

“Why are we even doing this?” Betty glanced
around her nervously.

“That thing Roy Meddy said last night won’t
leave me alone. I need to check something.”

"What if he catches us?"

“Dr. Parker? We'll just say we were waiting
for him. You'll tell him Christopher has a cough you're worried
about."

"But he doesn't."

"He's cured. It's a miracle."

Julia stood at Dr. Parker's filing cabinet,
swiftly flipping through the patient files in the top drawer. Each
name was written on the edge of the file in Dr. Parker's small,
precise printing. She had to squint to see many of the names but
recognized almost every one.

Betty was standing in the doorway that led
from the front hall of the house to the office, watching the street
through a front window, her face screwed up with anxiety. "Oh, this
is terrible," she muttered to herself, "terrible. How did I let you
talk me into this?"

"Because you're a good friend and you like a
little adventure as much as the next gal," Julia said. "Admit
it."

Betty was silent, not willing to admit her
friend was right. She might be morally compromised by helping Julia
break into the doctor's office, but part of her was thrilled with
the danger. This was a part of her she didn't like to show to
anyone, nor admit to.

"Here he comes. He's just leaving
Finnegan's."

Julia closed the drawer and opened the one
below it.

"What are you doing?" Betty glanced at her
friend. "Didn't you hear me? He's coming."

"We've got a few minutes. Calm down."

"Gracious, Julia, you're giving me a heart
attack."

"Well then, we're in the right place."

The clock in Parker's living room ticked
loudly, no doubt grating Betty Mitchell's nerves. "He's crossing
the street now, by our store. Oh! He's stopped to talk to Pastor
Thoreson."

"I'm done anyway. Let's go." Julia picked up
her small beaded handbag off Parker's desk and strode toward the
door, her expression preoccupied.

Betty fairly scurried down the hallway,
launching herself at the front door's knob. "Did you find what you
were looking for?"

"No."

"Oh," Betty's face fell. "That's too
bad."

"Actually, it’s the absence of the file I was
looking for that tells me something." She followed Betty through
the open door and closed it swiftly behind her.