The Librarian

Episode 7

Before she could respond Miss Walsh beckoned Harriet, and stood primly by the door.

"He just said Miss Folio-"

"He'll want to see me too, Edina, you know . . . Alf's bill?"

"What the devil is this, Trenholme?" Mayor Devlin waved the paper obdurately, ignoring Harriet, and ready to roll heads.

"The cost of having cattlemen bring business to our town, Mr. Mayor. And I believe Miss Folio was here ahead of me. I think good manners would see to her business first."

Avery's face suffused and he glared speechless at Aaron.

"I think Mayor Devlin would rather speak with me in private, Mr. Trenholme, but thank you for your chivalry."

Aaron nodded. "Okay. That bill for replacement blankets is from Sheriff Becker for the jail. I'm just dropping it off as a favour. Have a lovely day, Mayor, and you as well, Miss Folio." He left, tipping his hat to Edina on the way out.

The day was bright and hot and he slipped into the barbershop asking if there was anything newsworthy any customers might have let slip. Old Hamish was always happy to play the secret newspaper source, and Aaron returned the favour with a small column of free advertising.

He stepped outside just as Harriet came by carrying a wrapped package.

"Hello again, did poor Avery recover?" He walked along beside her.

"I'm sure he will."

"Hmmm - how about Miss Holden, has she recovered emotionally?"

"I'm sure she can answer that better than I - and please don't try to use me as a news source, Mr. Trenholme."

"I won't deny my attempt, it's how I make my living, but it isn't my only motive."

She felt her neck heat slightly before being replaced with a cold wall of bitter defensiveness. He saw the change of expression and knew right away he had stepped in a bad place.

"If my remark was offensive in any way, I do apologize . . . it was- I only meant-"

"I'm well aware of what you meant." She quickened her pace.

"Would it be so terrible if I asked if I could accompany you to the church social next Saturday?" He stopped as they reached the library door, partially blocking her way.

"Please, I have work-"

"May I?" He asked again without moving.

"It would not be a good idea to obstruct my way, Mr. Trenholme." Her eyes bore into his and held them until he blinked, backing away. "Thank you."

"My question still stands, Miss Folio. Perhaps you might be good enough to let me know." He touched his hat and offered a pleasant smile before leaving her.

Inside, Harriet locked the door, took off her hat and, dropped the mayor's package on her desk as she sat, feeling angry and confused. She leaned back and closed her eyes, her mind instantly stirring with memories.

Through lengthy correspondence, she had managed to obtain the position of town librarian, and she had come west full of confidence. She also found a husband and wife with one small child, willing to take her as a passenger in their Prairie Schooner for an agreed price.

The journey had been anything but easy, and with shared work, washing, cooking, and tending the horses, it became a learning experience. She recalled the shooting lessons from the father, and the excitement over her proficiency. The excitement and confidence was soon put to the test.

The memories made her angry, and she turned her mind to business once more.

****

It was going to be the easiest money Higby ever made. He only had to mention the Black Creek station incident and he had a dozen versions of what happened and who the woman was that caused all the excitement.

"She's the librarian, and a legend in this town." He grinned, hoisting a beer toward an intent Cass Wenderby. "You coulda learned that yerself and saved that six dollars."

"You ain't finished earnin' it yet."

"Why? You said-"

"I said I had a job for you. The job ain't done."

"So what else is there?"

"I want you to find out where she lives. What she does – her habits. Everthin' about her and I don't want her to know your askin'. Got it?"

"That could take a while."

"I don't care. I got plenty of time, earn your money."

****

Amanda Holden looked up with a start. One of her older students was calling her name and asking if they could leave, their time was over. She blinked and paused, collecting her thoughts then stood and nodded.

"Of course, I'm sorry I was . . . occupied. Collect the slates please, Timothy, and make certain you all have your notes for the homework lesson."

She went to the door, opened it and waited as the children filed out, some politely saying good day, others breaking into a freedom run.

She went back to her desk to tidy her own things and saw the doodle on her notebook, a heart with an H in the middle. Flushing, she tore the page off and threw it in the wastebasket. Her feelings had been compromised by the assault, and had also stirred desires held long suppressed so as not to endanger her position as school teacher.

Checking the stove, she took a final look around the room then left, locking it behind her. As she strolled toward the walk that began the stretch of businesses, she saw a man talking with one of her student's fathers. She looked again and recognized him as the man who had been with the cowboy who attacked her. Her head suddenly felt light and she feared she would swoon. Blackness filled her vision and she reached out to the wall of the building for support.

Why was she suddenly so afraid? This man had made no threat toward her. It was just an innocent conversation she witnessed. She took a deep breath, glancing around to be certain she drew no attention, and continued on her way, heart beating hard against her chest.

Inside her little cabin, Amanda went to her chest of drawers and took out the wooden box, setting it on the top and opening it slowly. Inside was the pistol she had taken from her father when she left home to come west and teach.