Charlie Horse Read online

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  About the Author

  Charlie Horse

  A Town Called Horse Mystery

  Alexandra Amor

  A Fat Head Publishing Book

  CHARLIE HORSE

  Copyright © 2016 Alexandra Amor

  Copyedit by Dawn Nassise

  Cover design by Books Covered

  All rights reserved. Except for the use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means is forbidden without the express permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and settings are fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, names, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9948824-8-6

  A Fat Head Publishing Book

  For my brother

  One

  Julia could hear the pounding footsteps come up the wooden stairs but didn't have time to think about them before the schoolhouse door burst open and bounced against the wall in the coat alcove.

  She was sitting at her desk, going over advanced math problems with her eldest student, Fergus Whelan. Fergus had aspirations for medical school and he was, without a doubt, the smartest child in her classroom. She never minded staying after the other students had escaped for the day, their sleepy eyes and fidgety legs transformed into a thundering herd as they flooded down the steps into the schoolyard.

  Julia tried to avoid taking offense and ultimately it was Fergus who helped her to maintain some confidence in her unseasoned teaching abilities. He had asked her for extra help with his studies during the second week of classes and she had happily agreed. The position in the tiny town of Horse was her first teaching post, and she wasn't entirely sure the choice she'd made in July to apply for this job hadn't been a huge mistake. Fergus was like a sponge for knowledge and his joy at learning reminded her nearly every day why she had given up a comfortable life and a secure, albeit dreaded, future to come to a remote place in central British Columbia that no one had heard of. That she had also possibly destroyed her connection to her parents by doing so was something she tried to avoid thinking about. Not even the distraction of extra lessons with Fergus could help with that so she tucked it away in a part of her heart she rarely visited.

  The man caught the door with his left hand as it rebounded toward him. He stood for a moment, glaring, staring straight at Julia and Fergus, who both had their heads raised like startled deer. The intruder was not tall, but was broad shouldered and strong looking. He wore the farmer's uniform of dark trousers with suspenders, buttoned shirt and work boots. His coat was flapping around his thighs and he neglected to remove the cap from his head. He held something in his right hand. It was his face, though, where some of the information Julia needed came from. His brows were pushed together and his eyes flashed. Julia had not seen someone so angry since she'd last seen her father.

  "Tell me it's not true!" he roared, and stalked up the center aisle, past the pupils' benches, heading straight for Fergus.

  The student was silent but stood as his father approached.

  Julia leapt out of her chair and rushed around her desk to intercept her guest, unsure of the man's intentions.

  "Mr. Whelan," she said, "how can I help? What's happened?"

  She would have placed her body between Fergus and his father, but the stocky man reached his son first. As she rushed toward the pair the older man swatted the boy across the face with what he had clutched in his hand. The boy absorbed the blow competently, his head turning, and then stood still, like a tree in a storm. His eyes turned down toward his feet.

  Colin Whelan threw what turned out to be a hat in the boy's face and then stood glaring at him from less than two feet away.

  "Is that yours?" he demanded.

  Julia bent down to pick up the hat. It was a soft cap with a short brim in the style almost all the boys in town wore.

  "Is it?" Whelan demanded again, eyes still locked on his son's face.

  The boy remained silent.

  "Mr. Whelan, perhaps you'd like to sit down so we can talk about whatever's bothering you."

  "Oh, I'm not bothered, Miss. But this lad will be in a moment."

  His fists were clenching and unclenching and up close Julia could almost feel the wave of rage that rolled off him.

  "May I make you a cup of tea?" she asked, trying to soothe him.

  Whelan, who hadn't looked at Julia yet, turned and met her eyes. She almost backed up, but managed to hold her ground.

  "We're not staying long enough for tea." Turning back to the boy, he said, "Fergus get your things. You're coming with me."

  Julia looked at Fergus. He was deflated. He gathered his books and pencil from her desktop and piled them into a little stack so he could tuck them under his arm. He kept his eyes down, not looking at her. There was something in his posture that told Julia that this was his practiced way of dealing with his father; making himself small and compliant.

  She saw that Fergus wasn't going to fight for himself so she would have to continue doing so. "I'm sure we can work this out, Mr. Whelan, whatever's happened. Why don't you tell me about it."

  But Whelan spun on his heels and turned back toward the schoolhouse door. "It's worked out, lassie," he said. "There's nothing to tell. I'll be taking Fergus off your hands."

  Julia followed Whelan toward the door. She had met him once before, in the first week of the school year to discuss Fergus' school work and his prospects. The older man didn't believe in education and it had been a struggle to get him to agree to even let Fergus come to school. Colin Whelan thought his boy should be at home helping on the farm and in the orchards, as many of the local boys did. For a farm lad, getting more than a sixth grade education was the exception, not the rule. The man himself had probably never received more than a fourth grade education. As a result he didn't believe in it. Not even for his boy who was very bright. From the sound of Whelan's voice Julia feared that he wasn't just taking the boy home for the day. It sounded as though they wouldn't be coming back again, ever.

  Julia tried again to reason with the furious bull stalking around her classroom. The children's desks looked like doll furniture in comparison to him.

  "Mr. Whelan. Please let me help. What's happened?"

  The man whirled and took two long strides toward Julia until he was standing with his nose almost pressed against hers. "Nothing, lassie. I told you."

  Once again Julia stood her ground. She could smell Whelan's breath and also the not unpleasant, slightly sweet smell of the pipe tobacco he smoked.

  "The boy's coming with me. And that's it for his education. It's done him absolutely no good and we need him on the farm."

  "But, please, Mr. Whelan, Fergus is such a bright boy and he'll go so far if we continue with his studies. Why just the other day..."

  Whelan interrupted her, leaning in so close that Julia had to fight to not pull her head back away from him. "Did you not hear me, Miss Thom? He's leaving and he's not coming back. A schoolhouse is no place for a thief."

  Two

  Preoccupied, Julia closed the schoolhouse door behind her and descended the four steps to the ground, her long skirt brushing the wooden steps behind her. It was late afternoon but the heat still made her feel as though she was standing too close to a wood stove. The weather in the North Okanagan was so di
fferent from that on the west coast of British Columbia, where she'd grown up, that it was like she was in another country entirely. She had yet to experience her first winter, and by all accounts it would be even more challenging than the blazing hot few weeks of late summer she was experiencing. The few locals that she'd gotten to know in that short time had seemed to love frightening her with tales of snow that reached the eaves of the houses. She hoped they were teasing her.

  Her buttoned boots and skirt hem gathered dust as she walked briskly along the street toward Horse's main street. Out here, where the schoolhouse that was also the church stood, there were no sidewalks. Just the dirt street and the occasional front lawn of a tiny bungalow. Though it was early October and the leaves on the trees had started to turn, she could feel sweat trickling down her back and under her arms as she walked.

  It was beautiful here, she had to admit. The lakes that surrounded the town on three sides glistened in the bright autumn sunlight. The quiet was nearly absolute. Ahead and behind her the hills that rose up were gold and green. Horse was nestled in a little valley, as though it was cupped in the curved palm of whatever benevolent god created this place.

  Julia turned left at Main Street, her thoughts far away, her feet doing the thinking for her. The high collar of her shirt itched her neck and she longed for a sweet cup of tea. But that would have to wait.

  The General Store came into sight. She stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk that fronted the stores in this part of town. Her boots made a sharp rapping against the wood, though she didn't notice. She was determined to sort out the mess that Fergus Whelan seemed to have landed in and ensure that he came back to school on Monday.

  When Julia arrived in Horse, less than two months earlier, she had known no one. She was the person most surprised when the town hired her as their schoolteacher. In less than a week she packed up her room, said goodbye to her mother, and climbed aboard the stagecoach that brought her to this wild and almost imaginary place. Her father had refused to say goodbye and so far had also refused to write to her. Julia's mother said he would come around but Julia was beginning to doubt that.

  Her reflection in the large front windows of the stores she strode past showed a pretty young woman with dark brown hair partially braided and gathered at the nape of her neck. She walked with a long, straight spine and a serious expression. Though she wore her corset looser than she had in the city, she still had the tiny waist that was the envy of all of her mother's friends. What the mirrored surfaces couldn't reflect was the warmth and light in her dark brown eyes. Although perhaps that was accurate, at the moment; she was not feeling particularly warm or light.

  She pushed open the wooden door to the General Store, its bell tinkling lightly. From her position behind the counter Julia's only friend in Horse lifted her head up and smiled.

  The store was laid out in a large square, with counters around three sides. Behind the counters the shelves that lined the walls all the way to the ceiling were filled with jars, cans, tins and boxes. In the glass-covered and fronted counters precious items like china sets and delicate fabrics were displayed. Hanging from the ceiling were the large items that wouldn't fit on the shelves or in the glass cupboards; snowshoes, leg-hold traps, shovels and picks, pots and pans. Betty Mitchell, the store's co-owner along with her husband Christopher, was refolding a bolt of fabric on the countertop. Through the doorway at the back of the store Julia could glimpse the storeroom, and beyond that, the back door to the shop. She could see that one of the panes of glass in the door was missing and had been replaced with a rectangle of plywood.

  "I didn't expect to see you this afternoon," Betty said, smiling as Julia approached the counter.

  Julia stood in front of her friend and placed her hands on the countertop. "I understand you were robbed last night."

  Betty's face fell and understanding crowded into her eyes. "Have you spoken to Colin Whelan?"

  "He was just at the school. He practically dragged Fergus out by his hair."

  Betty stopped fiddling with the bolt of fabric. The two women, bonded by the simple fact that female company was a rare and precious commodity in a frontier town this small, as well as the fact that they were both career women when career women didn't actually exist. They looked at one another sadly. Both were quiet for a moment.

  Finally Julia said, "What happened Betty? It can't be true that Fergus broke in here."

  "Oh, Julia, I'm so sorry.” She stepped back and brushed the apron over her skirt down in a habitual gesture. "Let me make a cup of tea and we can talk about it."

  She walked to the back of the store and disappeared into the back room. After a moment Julia heard the sounds of the wood stove being stoked and the kettle being placed on the stove top. Betty's head reappeared and she motioned to Julia, "Come on. Come and have a seat."

  The first time Betty invited Julia into the private storeroom, Julia had been extremely flattered. This was the heart and lungs of the business, as well as Betty and her husband's private place to take breaks during their very long days. Since then it had become a ritual several times a week for Julia to chat with Betty over a cup of tea. Neither woman baked much (or very well) so rarely did they combine their tea with a fresh treat, but usually there was a package of biscuits on the table. After a few of these visits, it seemed to Julia that her new friend enjoyed them as much as she did. Female company was rare in this new province that only five years earlier had been linked to the rest of the country by the new railway. When Julia first arrived in Horse and discovered that the local store's owner had a wife her age, she had nearly fainted with relief. When they appeared to be a good match as friends, the two women's mutual delight was almost palpable.

  Betty set china cups and saucers on a small table that was settled against one wall. On either side of it sat two wooden chairs. She gestured at one chair while she tugged on the lid of a can of tea leaves.

  The room was a smaller version of the front of the shop. Wide shelves lined the walls, loaded with larger glass jars and metal tins. Tucked in one corner were wooden barrels with open lids. The stove was larger than the one that provided heat in the center of the store. This was a cooking stove that got used every day while Betty and Christopher worked.

  Julia sat at the table and folded her hands in her lap. She took a few deep breaths and tried to quiet her mind. There must be a reasonable explanation for all this fuss and she was sure they could get to the bottom of it and get Fergus back into his father's good graces. And back into the classroom.

  The kettle began to steam so Betty lifted it up and poured the boiling water into the teapot. She set the heavy iron kettle down in a spot on the stove away from the heat, put the lid on the teapot and carried it over to the table.

  "Now," Betty said as she settled into her chair, "I'll be able to hear the door should anyone come in but we can still have a good chat."

  Julia glanced behind her at the repaired window pane in the back door. "Is that where they got in?” It seemed as good a place as any to begin the discussion.

  "Yes," Betty nodded, "When we arrived back from having dinner with the Jones' late last night, the door was ajar and there was glass all over the floor. He must've reached through and turned the lock."

  "What was stolen?" Julia turned back to face Betty.

  "Books, oddly."

  Julia breathed a sigh of relief. This piece of information convinced her the thief couldn't be Fergus. He had access to all of Julia's books; the ones she'd brought for the school plus any from her personal collection. There would be no reason for him to need more books, stolen or otherwise. It was a deal she and Fergus had struck as soon as she noticed how bright he was and his thirst for knowledge. Each week she would bring a few books from home for him to look at. He would choose one or two and take them home that night. As soon as he was finished reading them he would return them and choose others. And very often at lunchtime, when Julia was watching the smaller children play in the schoolyard, Fergus woul
d come and sit beside her on the steps and they would talk about the themes and messages in the stories. He was a fan of Kipling, they discovered, but not of Mary Shelley.

  Betty poured tea into Julia's cup, and then her own. She pushed the sugar bowl toward Julia.

  "It can't have been Fergus then," Julia said, warmth in her voice now that she knew her star pupil couldn't be the culprit.

  Betty took a sip of her tea, her eyes puzzled. "What do you mean?"

  Julia explained the book lending arrangement she had with Fergus. "He does read voraciously but I brought two trunks of books with me, and he's not yet gone through all those. And I should have another trunk arriving any day now. That will keep him busy for months to come."

  "That may be," Betty sat up a little straighter in her chair, her back well away from the spindles of the chair back, "but it seems he must have wanted other books."

  "It can't be, Betty," Julia said, tensing slightly in response to Betty's reaction, "he's such a smart boy. Not to mention polite and kind and...and..." She searched for another descriptor but in her emotional state her words failed her. "Smart," she said again, helplessly, "He would never do anything like that."

  "But we found his cap here," Betty gestured to a spot under one of the shelves.

  Julia was startled by this revelation. This must be why Colin Whelan hit Fergus with the cap he had in his hand when he came to the schoolhouse.

  While Julia thought about this, Betty continued. "Christopher was outside cutting the piece of wood to replace the pane," she gestured at the door, "when Colin arrived looking to buy some tobacco. I had set the cap on the counter out front to show to Constable Merrick and wasn't even thinking of it. I came back here to fill Colin's tin and when I went out front he asked why I had Fergus' cap. He was holding it in his hand. Well, what he said was, 'I'm going past the school. Why don't I take this with me.' I asked him why he would do that and he said, 'Because it's my boy's.'"