Chapter Five

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Michelle's father, who refused to be called anything but "Monsieur" or "Marque", stood in the Granite City sheriff's office as rigid as any man the good sheriff had ever seen. The fact that the man literally had his nose turned slightly upwards was something the lawman found quite comical. He would of starting laughing only his job required him to behave in a professional manner, even with an egotistical snob such as the Marque de Lecaise.

"I and my deputy, along with a number of men, have gone through this town brick by brick. And, before you ask, we have talked to every man, woman and child that lives in, or around, this town. No one has seen her. And, any visitors that we've had? Their alibis have all checked out." Sheriff Lawson leaned back in chair, keeping his face as neutral as possible. "So, whether you like it or not, she is not in Granite City and she left of her own accord." Right or wrong the lawman wasn't going to point out that the seventy five year old Thomas Black had refused to look Sheriff Lawson in the eyes when he had been asked if he'd seen Michelle leave town was something the lawman wasn't about to admit too. After all, the old man had looked him in the eye when he said he, Thomas, had nothing to do with the Marque's daughter leaving.

"Impossible!" the Marque, who wasn't about to admit that his own actions and words had led to his daughter's fleeing Granite City, raised his voice and stomped about the room worse than any two year old ever thought of doing. "Someone has got to have taken her, perhaps for ransom." The whole time he talked he looked as if he was standing as rigid as he could be.

"If kidnapping was the case," Sheriff Lawson, already tired of the arrogance the Marque refused to let go of, asked, "where's the ransom letter?"

"I…well…" the Marque stammered not having an acceptable answer, but not willing to concede anything on his part. "I will hire someone to find her, to find out who took her from me since you failed in your duties!" The Marque spun around and stormed out of the law office.

"That man needs to go get his attitude adjusted." Sheriff Lawson muttered as he turned his attention back to the paperwork he'd been reading when the Marque had so rudely interrupted.

~oOo~

Michelle sighed, as she looked at the rug hanging on the line in front of her. Victoria had argued with Michelle telling her that she did not need to do work, that they could have Elisha do it. Michelle had stood her ground and said she would work for her keep. She'd told Victoria that if she didn't she was no better than her father, walking around with his nose stuck in an upright position.

"You don't know what you're saying girl!" Her father yelled as he slapped her across the face yet again. "You were born into nobility! You know as well as I do you'd never give up the comforts of life I've given you, am giving you, to live a life where you'd have to do more than what you do now!" He'd then slapped her once more. "Maybe I didn't know what I was getting into, father." Michelle said as tears slid down her cheeks and she lifted the broom in her hands up and swung it towards the rung, though it felt like a foreign object. "But it's got to be better than using people the way you used me, better than treating people who are our neighbors badly and most definitely better than dying by your hands!" As far as she knew, Michelle was talking to no one but herself. She found out different when she heard Nick's spurs behind her. Quickly she swung around, not attempting to hide the fact that she did not appreciate him startling her.

"Sorry," Nick apologized as he shot her a smile and walked up beside her. He felt bad for her as he saw the tears on her face. Lifting his hand, he wiped the tears away. "However," he said as he dropped his hand back down by his side, "you do realize that talking to yourself can be just as dangerous as talking to me or my family. I mean, if the idea is not to allow anyone to hear your voice. However," he said as he leaned against one of the cloths line poles, "I don't see what the big deal is. It's not like anyone in Stockton knows your voice. Besides, if you hold onto that worry, how will you move forward?"

Michelle shook her head as she swung the broom again, feeling the muscles in her arms protesting loudly as she did so. "I figured people in Granite come and go just like everyone else I know. Most likely than not, some of those people will come through Stockton soon or later. And, like it or not, some of them might just recognize my voice even if I didn't talk all that much. But I figured that, with your men out working on the range, I was safe venting my feelings. However, I think you are right. I'll stop trying to hide my voice." She answered as she propped the broom against the clothesline and began rubbing her shoulders, an action that immediately had Nick standing behind her.

"Please," he said as he lifted his hands, "let me do it. I promise I won't make any advances."

Michelle stiffened only for a moment and then relaxed. She had to admit the massage Nick was giving her felt good. "I think my muscles hate me at the moment." Michelle said, causing Nick to laugh.

"I'm sure they do. You know," he said as he continued the massage, "You don't have to do this." Nick said as he gestured towards the rug with his thumb. He hated the idea that Michelle might feel she had no choice; a person should never feel that way.

"Yes, I do." Michelle sighed. "I am the one who chose to flee my father's house and, while I gave up all my father had to offer me, I will not give up my dignity. I will be able to hold my head up. Do you understand?" She felt rather foolish asking the question as she was sure he did; still, she asked it.

Nick couldn't help but smile even wider. He could understand where she was coming from. Did he, and most everyone he knew, want to be able to say they did what they could? Of course, that didn't mean that he, Nick, couldn't look around and see if he could find something else for her to do to make a living for herself. Of course, in order to do that, he'd have to know what interests she had. "You bet I do." Nick answered as he finished the massage. "Now, let me help you get this rug back into the house."

As much as she wanted to carry it in herself, Michelle had to admit that in between beating the rug and the floors she'd mopped that morning, her arms just didn't have the strength. "You'd get nothing out of living among such people." More of her father's words came back to her as she followed Nick inside, and she found herself thinking 'You are wrong, father, very wrong. So far I have friends like the Barkleys and I can look myself in the mirror without wanting to hide'.