Page 75 of Taming Lady Temperance

Noreen’s legs quivered to the point she worried they might fail to keep her upright. Did someone hate her so much that they’d burn down the saloon just to be rid of her? If she was found guilty, she’d be sentenced to time in prison. Or had it been an enemy of Taggert’s who found her an easy scapegoat to hide behind?

“Do you believe this, Freeman?” Taggert let out a humorless laugh. “He’s already makin’ excuses for her. He can’t be trusted to run this investigation. Someone needs to fetch the sheriff.”

“Sheriff Adair is trailin’ rustlers,” James offered, his voice as calm and friendly as ever. As if his integrity had not just been slandered. “No one knows precisely where he is. You’re welcome to go hunt for him, if you like. In the meantime, I’ll be gathering evidence and conducting interviews.”

“You mean picking through the evidence to try get your girl off the hook.”

James’s gaze hardened. “I’ll examine all evidence, Taggert. As should you, if you want to know what really happened here. Think about it. Why would the person who set fire to your building announce their identity to the world? Miss O’Sullivan is passionate about temperance, but she’s not lacking intelligence. And after the few days she spent in the jailhouse, I can guarantee she’s not eager to return to incarceration.”

“Never would be too soon,” Noreen agreed, her nape growing cold at the thought of being behind bars again.

Martha moved forward and pointed at the handkerchief. “Not only that, Deputy, but Noreen would never misspell temperance. I’ve personally witnessed her write that word on numerous occasions, and never once has she spelled it incorrectly. Yet whoever painted that message spelled it -ence instead of -ance.”

Taggert waved off her observation. “As if that matters. Anyone can make a mistake.”

Martha centered her best teacher’s glare on the man. “Just as you are making one now by jumping to unfounded conclusions.”

“Look, we’re all tired,” the blacksmith said, his arms uncrossing as he moved toward the group. “Let’s go home, clean up, and catch a couple hours of shut-eye. Taggert, you can bunk at our place.” He thumped the saloon owner on the shoulder.

Taggert jerked away from his friend’s touch. “Thanks, Freeman, but I think I’ll stay around here. See what I can salvage.” He shot a scowl at Noreen. “Make sure no one breaks any more bottles.”

James must have been rubbing off on her more than she realized, for Taggert’s jab failed to stir her defensiveness. She was too busy puzzling over the way he’d shied from the blacksmith’s friendly touch. Could be lingering anger, but visions of his coat covered in flames brought another hypothesis to mind.

When he failed to get a rise out of her, Taggert stormed off. Mr. Freeman jogged after him, saying something about clearing out some space at the back of the smithy so Taggert could store his belongings.

The others dispersed as well, though many of the ladies who had defended her so adamantly a few minutes before now cast sideways glances in her direction, their uncertainty blaring bright. No doubt they were questioning her innocence thanks to that infernal handkerchief. Even Irma failed to meet Noreen’s gaze as she passed by on her way to the road.

“Irma, wait.” Noreen hurried after her.

Thankfully, the woman halted and didn’t make Noreen chase her down. She still didn’t look her in the eye, though, when Noreen drew alongside. She chose to stare at her feet instead. “It’s been a long night, Noreen. You can plead your case tomorrow.”

“It’s not that.” Though the fact Irma thought she needed to plead her case stung. “I think . . .” She stopped and straightened her posture. “There’s a good chance that Taggert was burned by the fire that lit his coat. The way he jerked away from your husband seemed more like pain than anger. He’ll not be able to doctor it himself. Perhaps you or Mr. Freeman could check on him.”

Irma lifted her chin, surprise glimmering in her gaze. “Marcus keeps a medicine box at the forge to treat burns. They’re a hazard of his trade. I’ll have a word with him before I head back to the house.”

Noreen nodded, her confidence wilting a bit beneath Irma’s scrutiny. Suddenly craving the company of those who harbored fewer doubts about her character, Noreen turned and headed back toward James and Martha.

“Noreen?” Irma called.

She turned.

“Thanks.”

It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of her innocence, but it was a gift of respect—one she appreciated. Noreen dipped her chin in acknowledgment, then resumed her retreat.

As soon as she came within reach of him, James placed a reassuring hand to her back. “Are you all right?”

Noreen shook her head slightly, too tired to pretend she hadn’t been gutted by Taggert’s accusations. “I still don’t know how my handkerchief ended up tacked to his doorframe.”

She glanced at Martha, knowing she’d understand the hidden layers of this particular betrayal. Swallowing the idea that someone in the society might have started the fire was like swallowing broken glass, but she had to consider the possibility.

“It’s been missing for a few days,” Noreen admitted. “I’ve been so busy with the extra shifts at the hotel that I assumed I mislaid it somewhere. I never considered someone might have taken it deliberately.” She looked from Martha back to James. “I know I tend to ruffle feathers, but to think that someone committed such a heinous crime just to implicate me . . . It tears me up inside.”

James reached for her hand and clasped it tightly. “Nothing that happened tonight can be laid at your feet, Noreen. Whoever did this, whatever their motive, it was their choice, their crime.” He pulled her hand up to his chest and held it against his heart. “I’ll find the true culprit. I’ll interview everyone in Albany if I have to. Not just to protect you but to protect the town. There’s an arsonist out there. One who put his own agenda ahead of people’s safety. I won’t let him get away with what he’s done.”

“It could have been a woman.” Noreen hated the thought but needed to give it voice. James was right. More than her future hung in the balance. An arsonist on the loose posed a threat to the entire town.

“Can’t say that I’ve heard of many female arsonists, but you’re right. I shouldn’t make assumptions.” He raised her hand to his mouth and laid a quick kiss on her knuckles, not caring that she was covered in soot and grime. Not caring that someone might see.