V

"What's this all about?" Adam asked. He could feel the headache like a claw, grip the back of his neck and insinuate its tendrils through his skull. Soon, his head would be throbbing.

Roy determinedly said, "Why don't you sit down, Mrs. Cartwright. I need to talk to your husband." Sheriff Coffee faced Adam who kept glancing down at Sibella; she kept her head lowered, her face hidden by the brim of her western-style hat. And she was dressed in an old riding habit that she wore while out on the property exercising Delilah; Sibella wouldn't be seen in town dressed such – under normal circumstances.

"Are you going to arrest her, Roy?" Adam asked. He wanted to get to the point quickly but his mind was racing ahead about possible bail and how long the whole matter would take. And what about Mrs. George and Noah? He would have to send a message to her so she wouldn't worry and go ahead and feed, bathe and put down Noah for the night. And he had wanted so much to see his son again before the day was over.

"I should arrest her." Sibella looked up at Roy, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. He hoped she didn't cry; he could bear anything but the tears of a beautiful woman or a child. They broke down his resolution. "You know where I found her?" Adam shook his head, no. "In the milliner shop. She was coming down from Mme. Adair's quarters – she lived above the shop, you know – and apparently, your wife had broken in."

"I didn't break in!" Sibella said, gripping the padded arms of the chair and looking up at both Sheriff Coffee and Adam. "The wood slats had already been pried loose and the door was unlocked! I only had to walk in."

"Wait a minute," Adam said. "What wood slats…I'm not following."

"I had Clem nail pieces of wood across the back door to secure it – we couldn't find the key. I didn't want anyone going in a helping themselves to anything; times are hard for some people and a hungry child could turn any father into a looter. But I didn't expect Mrs. Cartwright to become one."

"I am not a looter and I didn't break in! Look at me! I don't have a crowbar up my sleeve! I'm not strong enough to have pulled the wood away by hand! And I didn't tie a rope to Delilah's saddle and have her pull them off! Really!"

"Sibella," Adam said. "Let Roy finish. Roy, what are the charges?"

"Well, trespassing, breaking into the place…"

"I didn't break in!" Sibella was exasperated. It seemed no one could comprehend that fact.

"Sibella!" Adm barked. "Just be quiet for five minutes, would you?" Sibella sat back in her chair; Adam was close to his breaking point and she wanted to avoid his wrath. She knew that he could only be pushed so far.

"Anyway, Adam, I didn't search her. I thought maybe you could ask her if she has anything in her pockets or such."

"Of course. Sibella, would you empty your pockets on my desk?"

Sibella stood up looking guilty. She reached into one of the jacket's pockets and pulled out a small ring of keys, laying them on the desk. I don't have anything else but that." She held open the pockets for Roy.

Adam stared at the smaller version of a jailer's key ring that held three keys. He didn't recognize it.

Roy picked up the keys. "What are these to?"

"The shop." She dropped her head.

"Sibella," Adam said, "You stole the keys?'

"I just…when you two were talking, I saw them on the table and just lay my hand on them and closed my fingers about them. I just…I thought I could use them to visit the shop later." She sat back down.

Adam made a sound of disgust. "Why? Why would you need to go back to the shop? I told you it was none of your business and to leave things to Roy!"

"I know, Adam, I know." She looked at him, pleading for his understanding. "But see! The keys prove I didn't break in! I could have just unlocked the front door and walked in. I doubt anyone would have thought anything about it and if they did, I would have said I was picking up my hat, which I never did…"

Roy cleared his throat. "Speakin' of, may I see your hat?"

Sibella pulled off her hat and handed it to Roy. "I've nothing hidden in the hatband or such." Roy checked the hat, running a finger under the inside band, and handed it back.

"Thank you, ma'am." Then he turned to Adam. "Now, Adam, I don't much care how you do it, lock your wife in her room, tie her to a bedpost or hand her over to your pa to watch, but keep her away from the milliner's shop. I see her there again and I will arrest her."

"Roy," Adam said wearily, "I'll do my best. And thank you."

Roy tipped his hat to Sibella and walked out. Adam half-sat on the edge of his desk, one long leg still making contact with the floor.

"Sibella, I don't know what to do with you. I've tried to explain that you're playing with fire – this isn't a game! Someone killed Mme. Adair, stabbed her in the heart and we don't know who it was. Stay away from the shop. If you don't, well, I may actually tie you to the bedstead. Why don't you listen to me?"

"I'm sorry, Adam. I just, well, I hoped I could help. Only it seems that because it's a woman, it isn't being investigated as it should be."

"You don't know what Roy's doing and he works just as hard to find justice for everyone who needs it. He's been doing this for longer than you've been on this earth. Leave this case alone."

In a small voice, unsure of Adam's response, Sibella said, "Don't you want to know what I've found?"

"Sibella, did you listen to nothing I said? So, you did take something from the shop."

"No, not from the shop - from her living quarters." Sibella stood up and reached inside the neck of her blouse and pulled out a few envelopes – obviously letters – and a tintype. "Someone had ransacked upstairs as well but they left these – obviously because they didn't think these things were important and they may not be."

"Sibella, you've stolen evidence."

"No, I haven't. I mean if Sheriff Coffee thought it was evidence, he would have already taken these so I'm not stealing evidence. I found these items. Look at this tintype." Sibella placed the sepia-tinted photograph on the desk and Adam stood to examine it.

"It's a picture of a Confederate officer, isn't it?' Sibella asked.

Adam held it in his hand, looking closely. "Yes. By the uniform insignias, I'd say the rank of corporal."

"How can you tell?" Sibella leaned in close to see.

"See these double chevron bars? That's for corporal." Adam flipped the photograph over, looking for a date or a name or a sentiment. "Nothing written on the back. Why do you think this might be important?"

Sibella took the photograph from Adam and looked at the earnest face staring back, that of a young man, just on the verge of adulthood. "I wonder if he's still alive."

"Don't think about such things," Adam said, his voice dropping. "So many young men died, some of them only 14 or 15 years old. Farm boys without shoes fighting with old single-shot rifles from home – no government issue weapons. It was such a waste…"

"I'm sorry, Adam." Sibella held his arm, leaning her head against it. Adam never wanted to talk about the war and she never pressed him. She wasn't even sure she wanted to hear about it. It was difficult to imagine the man who held her in the dark, who kissed her and ran his strong hands over her at night actually had killed men in battle with the very hands that pleasured her. Maybe even the man whose picture she held.

"You didn't answer my question, Sibella. Why do you think this is important?"

Sibella looked up at him. "I don't know that it is. But I also don't know that it isn't."

"Well, that's definitive," He said sarcastically. "What about the letters? Why did you take those?" Adam rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't know what's in them but they may have some information about her next of kin or such. And I was wondering, can we pay for her funeral?"

Adam smiled despite the throbbing pain in his head, and pulled Sibella to him, kissing the top of her head. "We'll see. If her estate won't cover it, we will. But, Sibella, we have to turn these letters over to the sheriff."

"I will, I promise! But I don't see why—even the killer didn't want them. Just let me read them first, will you, Adam?"

"Sibella…" He couldn't yet see any importance in the letters as to solving Mme. Adair's murder or even that it would hurt to later hand them over to Roy, but he didn't want to tell Sibella; she would then think he approved of such action. And God knew she was hard enough to rein in as it was.

"Please, Adam, like I said, Sheriff Coffee doesn't want them or he would have taken them."

"He and Clem may not have gone through the second floor yet. You'll have to hand these over."

"I will - but just not yet." And Sibella set her jaw. "Besides, he'll probably just store them away in some musty old file where they'll be no good to anyone. And I hate to think this photograph will be tossed aside." She looked at the young corporal, her face becoming soft. "He was important to her."

~ 0 ~

Adam had said goodnight to Miss Pear, told her to go home for the day and thanked her. Miss Pear had smiled and said she hoped they had a pleasant evening. And she watched Adam until he and Sibella stepped out the door and he closed it behind them. He had a headache – that she knew. She saw it in his eyes.

Miss Pear walked into Adam's office, went to the window, and looked down into the street. She waited. During the workday, Mr. Cartwright's horse was kept at the livery stable and saddled again at 5:30 in the evening. After 10 minutes, Miss Pear's patience was rewarded. Adam Cartwright passed underneath on his tall chestnut but this evening, beside him rode Sibella Cartwright on her little grey horse.