Page 37 of In Honor’s Defense

“Well, after you brought him home that day, Nathaniel finally opened up and told me all the reasons he thought Mr. Grimes was responsible for Douglas’s death. I promised that the next time I went to town, I’d visit the undertaker, the sheriff, and employees at the mill where Douglas worked to see if I could learn anything about how he died or why he left work early to go to the lake. I owe it to my nephew and my brother to discover what answers I can, or at least to make a worthy attempt.”

The interest on Luke’s face darkened to something resembling displeasure. “You should wait until I can go with you. If someone did have a hand in your brother’s death, stirring the pot with a bunch of questions is a good way to make yourself a target.”

“No one will think it the least bit strange for me to ask questions about Douglas. It’s only natural for a sister to wonder about the details of the accident that cost her brother his life. Besides, I excel at being unremarkable.” She smiled as she lifted her teacup to her lips. “Most likely, by this time next week, the people I speak to won’t even remember our conversation.”

He didn’t smile at her quip. In fact, he frowned. Glowered, really. As if angry on her behalf. Sweet man. Yet as much as his protectiveness warmed her heart, she wouldn’t let it derail her.

Damaris set down her teacup. “I appreciate your concern, Luke. Truly. But I promised Nathaniel I’d look into it, and I intend to keep my word.” She dipped her chin. “Now that I’ve been reminded.” She sighed. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

Luke quirked a half-grin. “Well, you’ve been a mite busy the last week, tendin’ to the fella who had the bad manners to bleed all over your bed.”

“I still should have remembered. Nathaniel did. You should have seen his face when he asked what I would be doing in town. It was like he had hope on a tight leash, expecting me to disappoint him. And I did. I have to follow through. For both our sakes.”

Luke reached across the table and took hold of her fingers. “I know it ain’t my place to interfere, but please promise you’ll be careful. If someone is less than forthcoming, don’t push too hard for answers. Just gather what information comes easily and bring it back. I can help you sift through it. Nate too. This isn’t all on your shoulders.”

Damaris blinked back the thin sheen of moisture that crept across her eyes. How long had it been since someone offered to ease her load without trying to dictate how she carried it? She couldn’t recall.

Rubbing the edge of his palm with her thumb, she nodded. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Careful in town. That she could promise.

Careful with her heart? She’d slid past careful the moment he took her hand. Now she was careening toward reckless. Hopefully, she wouldn’t find sharp rocks at the bottom of this particular hill, for at her current pace, a crash would leave her shattered.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

It’s a right tragedy, what happened to your brother, miss. I was the one who fished him out, you know.” Sheriff Conley shook his head. “Nearly fell in myself tryin’ to get him into the boat. Good thing Clyde was there to steady us. I mighta ended up swimmin’ with the fishes, too.” He chuckled, then caught Damaris’s eye and stifled his amusement. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Damaris pressed her lips together. Hearing the details of Douglas’s death was more difficult than she had expected. She’d thought she’d come to terms with his loss, that enough time had passed to allow her to be objective in this fact-finding mission. Yet listening to the sheriff chronicle his retrieval made her stomach clench and her heart ache.

Focus on the facts. Glean details. Douglas is with Jesus, not in that horrid lake water.

“You said you used a boat to fetch him. How far was he from shore?”

The sheriff gave her a strange look, then scratched his bearded jaw. He looked to be around fifty. His skin had the tan, creased look of worn leather common in those who worked outdoors, but his potbelly hinted at a tendency for leisure. “Not sure, exactly. Close enough to be spotted by folks walking by, but too far to wade in to get him. Why do you ask?”

Luke’s warning about not pushing too hard for information echoed in her mind. She gave the sheriff one of her more insipid smiles, the kind she used to placate Great-Aunt Bertha while paying only half-attention to one of her aunt’s long diatribes on the deterioration of society. Some of the sharpness in the sheriff’s expression dulled in response.

“I suppose I’m just trying to understand how this accident happened,” she said. “I’m sure you can imagine how hard it is to lose a loved one in such a sudden manner. It’s taken me months to recover enough from the shock to even consider asking questions. I suppose I’m seeking closure, Sheriff, some way to make sense of things so I can move on.”

The lawman leaned forward in his chair, his hands folding across his belly as his expression turned dutifully somber. “Sometimes there ain’t no good reason, miss. Just bad luck. Best we can tell, he hit his head on somethin’ and fell into the water. Prob’ly out there fishin’.”

“Was there a boat near where you found him?”

“Nope. But it was hard to tell how long he’d been there. The wind was blowing pretty good that day, if I recollect properly. Coulda blown the boat to shore somewhere else. After Clyde cleaned Doug up, he noticed some bruises around his face. Woulda been consistent with a fall.”

A fall forward. If a man fell out of a boat, wouldn’t he fall backward? Unless he was hit from behind. Either way, the damage should have been to the back of his head, not his face.

Damaris wanted to press for more answers, but the sheriff’s gaze was beginning to sharpen again. She might be better off dividing her questions between him and the undertaker so neither one would pay too much attention.

She sighed and let her shoulders droop. “I’m sure you’re right. It’s just so hard to accept that Douglas is gone. But I must, mustn’t I?” She gave a little sniff, not at all feigned. Tears were closer to the surface than she wished.

She rose from her chair. Sheriff Conley stood as well and steered her toward the jailhouse door.

“Thank you for your time, Sheriff. And your patience with my questions.”

“Not at all, miss.” He stopped beside the door and hooked his thumbs into his gun belt. “I’m glad I could help put your mind to rest.”