Page 87 of Taming Lady Temperance

“He didn’t release Clevenger, did he?” That would be a disaster.

Connor wagged his head, and James released a breath.

“No, he insisted on talking to you first. But after examining the charred remains of the saloon and tracking down Taggert to get his accounting of what happened, he brought Miss O’Sullivan in for questioning. Unfortunately, bringing her in brought half a dozen others, too. Mrs. Clevenger, the schoolmarm, the entire Cowan clan. Mrs. Barker must’ve sniffed out what was happening, too, for she showed up not long after the first wave, dragging Velma Stafford with her. So many people were clucking for attention that the sheriff lost his temper and shouted at them all to be silent. Then he whisked Noreen into your personal quarters to question her in private, allowing only Mrs. Cowan to accompany them for propriety’s sake, though she had strict instructions not to utter a sound.”

Noreen was being interrogated by Sheriff Adair? James nudged Connor aside and stretched his stride as he hurried to the jailhouse. Adair had never been a fan of Noreen’s outspoken ways, nor the way she challenged his authority. If she got too feisty with him, he might lock her up just to get her out of his hair. The thought of Noreen behind bars again tore at his heart. He had to convince the sheriff of her innocence—now.

Opening the jailhouse door acted like a gunshot at a horse race. People rushed toward him as if his appearance had released them from invisible restraints, their voices rising to be heard over one another.

Noreen’s mother grabbed his arm, her eyes filled with tears. “You can’t let him arrest her. Please. She’s done nothing wrong.”

Martha Evans sidled close to his other ear. “Mrs. Barker found a witness. Velma saw Mr. Clevenger near the boardinghouse on Monday afternoon.”

Hope sparked inside his chest only to be dampened when Taggert growled behind him. “We finally got an unbiased lawman to take care of business. You might as well hang up your badge now, Paxton. You’re about to be out of a job.”

Noreen held her chin high as she met the sheriff’s penetrating stare. She’d spoken the truth, and she’d not allow him to cow her into a shame she didn’t deserve.

“Mighty convenient for your handkerchief to go missing a few days before the fire.” Skepticism laced his voice.

“On the contrary, I found it quite inconvenient. That handkerchief holds special meaning to me.” She traced the lacy edge of her spinster society handkerchief that Sheriff Adair had tossed down upon the table between their two armchairs. “It caused me a good deal of anxiety when I couldn’t find it.”

The linen looked so ragged and abused. Smears of soot and slanderous black paint had turned the pristine white into a dingy gray. A rip at the top where it had been torn free of a nail left loose fibers dangling broken and disconnected. Yet the promise embroidered into the fabric remained as strong as when it had first come into her possession. She had a sisterhood standing with her. And not just the spinsters but others, too. Friends. Family. Her heavenly Father. James. No treachery could diminish that promise. Let the sheriff make his accusations. She’d not tremble in the face of adversity.

“This isn’t a game, Miss O’Sullivan.” Adair slammed his hand against the wood of the table and leaned forward in his chair, his scowl fierce.

Despite her inward bravado, her fingers did tremble just a tad as she pulled them away from the handkerchief and back into her lap. “I’m very aware of that fact, Sheriff. I have no interest in ever seeing the inside of a cell again.”

“You’ll see more than the inside of a cell this time. Arson is a serious crime. Coupled with attempted murder since Taggert was inside at the time, you could be facing a hanging.”

Mrs. Cowan stepped away from the cold hearth and positioned herself at Noreen’s side. “That’s enough, Sheriff. She’s answered your questions. I’ll not stand silent while you frighten her half to death.”

The sheriff turned his anger on Jane’s mother. “It’s past time somebody scared some sense into her. Maybe if I had done it earlier, she wouldn’t have acted so rashly.”

Noreen fisted her hands in the fabric of her skirt. “I told you. I didn’t set that fire.”

“Your hankie tells a different story.”

“No, my handkerchief confirms my story. I would never disfigure an item of such sentimental value. Plus, the word temperance is misspelled and not written in my handwriting. All these facts lend credence to the supposition that someone other than me nailed this to the saloon wall. Taggert and my stepfather are the ones telling a different story, and you’re choosing to believe them because it’s easier, not because it’s right.”

Adair’s brows arched. “Now who’s making assumptions?”

Noreen blinked. Was he saying that he hadn’t decided she was guilty?

“Tell me about the fire.” A bit of the heat had drained from his voice, but his gaze continued to bore into hers.

A sigh slid from her. They’d already gone over this. “I was awakened by someone pounding on the boardinghouse door and shouting about a fire. I—”

A loud commotion erupted from the other room, interrupting her thought process.

Sheriff Adair pushed back his chair, snatched the handkerchief from the table, and stormed to the door. “For the love of Pete. I told them to hold it down.” He jerked the door open. “What in tarnation—Paxton! ’Bout time you got here. You left me quite a mess.”

James?

Noreen leapt from her chair, hurried to the doorway, and did her best to peer around the sheriff’s bulk to find James. He was carrying a sack and an odd assortment of other items, including a kerosene tin, a paint can, and what looked to be a pair of men’s shoes.

“Sorry, sir. I’d hoped to have everything straightened out before you returned, but I think I can put things to rights if you give me a few minutes to organize the evidence I’ve collected.” James’s gaze darted to her, and Noreen’s stomach gave a leap.

“You got a warrant for that stuff, I assume.”