Page 77 of Taming Lady Temperance

James didn’t go back to bed that morning. He heated enough water for a bath and a shave and soaked in the tub longer than usual, trying to get his thoughts in order. He needed a plan of action. One free from partiality—which would be tricky since he was anything but impartial in this case. He believed Noreen innocent, and he intended to prove that fact to Taggert and the rest of the community. Yet Taggert already assumed he’d favor the evidence that supported Noreen and ignore the rest. He couldn’t do that. All facts must be examined. All testimony documented. He must seek the truth, not simply what he wanted to find.

The truth would exonerate Noreen. Of that he had no doubt. Yet the fact that someone had laid a trail of deceit to obscure the truth made him nervous. The easy evidence pointed to Noreen, and if he didn’t uncover the true culprit in a timely fashion, Taggert and others would demand her arrest.

After pouring himself a cup of coffee, James settled at the table and pulled out his Bible. If ever a day needed to be started with a dose of wisdom and encouragement, it was today. Craving the words of Jesus himself, James turned to the book of John, his eyes scanning for underlined passages. A pair of verses on opposite sides of his current opening jumped off the page and into his heart. One from chapter fourteen. The other from chapter sixteen.

And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever; Even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.

Howbeit when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth: for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak: and he will shew you things to come.

He meditated on the words. Closed his eyes so they could soak into his soul. The Spirit of truth. Sent from the Father at the request of Jesus. To his disciples. Those who know the Lord.

James bowed his head over his Bible, his fingers tightening on the handle of his cup, though he made no move to lift the coffee to his mouth.

The Spirit of truth dwelled in him. Lived in him. Right now. Today. Ready to help him see what the world could not see. A discerning Spirit. One sent to guide him into all truth.

All truth. Not just spiritual truth but physical truth as well. At least he hoped that’s what all meant, for he could really use a guide as he sifted through fact and fiction.

Lord, I need your help. You know who set the fire, for you see everything. Guide me with your Spirit of truth today. Stir my mind to ask the right questions, and help me make sense of the answers. Foil the deceiver’s plot, and bring justice to our community. To Noreen. Guard her heart as speculation spreads about her involvement and . . . encourage Taggert as he faces this staggering loss.

He sat in silence, sipping his coffee, and preparing his mind while he waited for the sun to rise above the horizon. Once the sky was fully light, he rose from the table, retrieved his hat, and set out for the saloon. Or what was left of it. He wanted to take a closer look at that burn pattern he’d noticed on the floor before neighbors and friends started traipsing through the place.

An oppressive mood settled over James the moment he stepped inside the Salt Fork. Memories of boisterous crowds, rowdy laughter, and friendly card games tried to surface, but they seemed trapped within the blackened walls, overshadowed by smells of smoke and wet ash.

“You’re gettin’ an early start.”

James turned at the sound of Taggert’s voice and found him behind the charred bar, separating broken glasses from unbroken ones. The clothes he wore were clean, but they hung on his frame as if they belonged to a larger man. Probably Marcus Freeman. The soot had been washed from his face and hair, but no amount of scrubbing could remove the gloom from his bearing.

“I could say the same for you.” James crossed to the bar and braced his boot on the brass rail that had lost its shine and some of its shape.

A soot-darkened glass clinked softly as the barkeeper placed it in a crate. “Can’t get an early start if you never actually stopped.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Milt.” The words felt inadequate, yet James said them anyway. They were true, after all. The man’s livelihood had been wrongly stolen from him. James might not approve of all the goings on that had taken place within these walls, but Taggert was a victim of a crime, and he deserved compassion and patience.

Taggert heaved a weary sigh. “Me too.” He set aside the crate of glassware and met James’s gaze. “I appreciate all you did to try to save it. Not many men would enter a burning building that didn’t belong to them. You, Connor, and Old Coop did that, and I owe you my thanks.”

“And I owe you justice for what happened here.”

Taggert rolled his eyes but didn’t lash out with disparaging comments about Noreen. Probably too worn out for fit-throwin’, yet James hoped it might be a sign of an improved mindset.

James retrieved a notepad and pencil from his coat pocket. “When did you first realize something was wrong?”

Taggert blew out a heavy breath and pushed the crate aside. “I closed down around two in the morning. Was in bed by three. I hadn’t been asleep long, maybe an hour, when I heard a noise in the alley. Some kind of crash. Thought it was just a coon or cat or somethin’, so I didn’t investigate. Just rolled over and pulled the pillow over my head.” His mouth flattened in a tight line. “If I had just gotten out of bed . . . maybe I could’ve . . .”

The road of could haves was a painful path that circled in on itself and led a man nowhere. Best to reroute Taggert before he got mired in that unproductive mud.

“When did you notice the fire?”

Taggert gave his head a shake, then cleared his throat. “Not sure how long I slept. Long enough that my room filled with smoke.”

James jotted a note. “Is that what woke you? The smoke?”

“Don’t think so.” Taggert’s brow furrowed. “There was a noise, I think. Something banging against my window.”

“Which side of the building is that window on?”

“The side facing the alley.”

Same as the window above that burn pattern he’d noticed. Interesting.