sheriff pulled his lips in under the heavy mustache he wore and leaned his head to one side before shaking it. “No. Everybody doesn’t.”
Jared noticed the clothes the man wore. He looked familiar. “Who are you?”
“I’ll ask the questions, Mr. Ivy.” The sheriff didn’t seem pleased to have someone horn in on his territory, but Jared’s innate curiosity had his mind full of questions.
The prisoner pointed through the bars at Jared. “He just told you that man shot himself. You got no reason to hold me here.”
“I’ll be the one decidin’ if there’s a reason to hold you.” The sheriff leaned against the side of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “I’d like to know the same thing Mr. Ivy is asking. Who are you?”
“Name’s Elmer Finch. I’m a newsagent on the train.”
“That’s where I saw you.” Jared knew he’d seen that face recently.
“Well, I’ll just go around to the depot and speak to the station master then.” The sheriff straightened and headed for the door.
Elmer Finch spoke up. “The station master probably won’t know me. Today is my first day with the line. You’ll have to speak to someone on the train. I’d appreciate it if you’re quick about it. The train had a long stop so some repairs could be made. I’ve only got a half hour before I’m supposed to be back on the job.”
Sheriff Collins banged the door behind him as he left.
Jared walked to the cell. “What were you doing in the saloon?”
Mr. Finch didn’t meet his eye. A sure sign to Jared that he wasn’t being honest. “I was having supper.”
“Hmm...” It wouldn’t be productive to question someone who was lying. He decided to follow the sheriff and see what they could learn at the depot.
“You can mutter all you want. I’m telling you the truth.” Elmer Finch’s words rang out behind him as Jared closed the door to the sheriff’s office.
Something wasn’t right and Jared was determined to find out what it was.
After a trip to the depot and the doctor’s office, Jared headed back to the paper. It might be his first day in town, but he was already stirring with anticipation about putting his first story in the paper. He opened the door and stopped short as a young man hung a copy of the paper to dry. Mary Lou loaded the next sheet of paper for printing. Several copies hung along the outer edge of the office.
“Why did you start printing the paper before I got back?”
“We always print on Saturday when we can. I don’t like to work on the Lord’s Day or wait until Monday morning. It gives overnight for the papers to dry, and you never know when you might have a problem with the press. It’s best to get it printed as soon as the stories are complete.” She nodded to the young man. “Andrew Nobleson, this is Jared Ivy. He claims he owns the paper, and Sheriff Collins says I’ve got to put up with him until the judge comes through town again. Maybe a month or two.”
“How do you do, sir?” Andrew offered his hand and pulled it back at the last second when he realized how much ink was on it.
“Hello, Andrew.”
“Andrew is my apprentice. He helps with many of the odd jobs involved in putting out the paper.”
Jared looked at Mary Lou, carefully inking the press for another copy. “I told you I thought there was more to the story.”
She didn’t even look up; just put the ink roller down while Andrew loaded the next sheet of paper. He cranked it under the press and pulled the lever to print the page.
“Was there?” She looked doubtful as she helped Andrew remove the paper and grabbed the ink roller again.
“I’m not exactly sure.” He leaned against the desk. “Something about the man doesn’t fit.”
Mary Lou continued to work with Andrew. Jared watched them move with motions seemingly synchronized by the experience of having worked together for a long time.
“Then I’m glad I didn’t hold the press for you. I won’t print something that’s vague or unfounded.”
“It’s not unfounded. And I’ve got equal say about what gets printed.”
“Equal say? That’s not how I heard the sheriff.” She argued without missing a lick at the work she and Andrew did.
“He said we have to work together.”
“That’s fine. You can start where everyone else who ever worked here started. You can sweep up, and I’ll teach you how to clean the press when we’re finished printing. Next week you should be able to clean it on your own.”
“What?” How dare she speak to him like a subordinate? “I’m not a hired hand or apprentice. I’m the owner. And I won’t be ordered about by you or anyone else.” She had nerve. That much was clear. He’d have to hold a tight line with her or she’d find a way to send him packing before the judge ever came to town.
“I’m just telling you what Jacob Ivy would have told you.” She motioned for Andrew to move a stack of blank paper closer. “No one puts a word in a story of the Pine Haven Record until they’ve proved themselves. I’m quite certain he’d have made no exception for you.”
The thought of Grump making her sweep the floors and clean the press made him smile. “Is that how you started?”
“It is.” She lowered the paper into place and Andrew cranked to move it under the press.
The teenager nodded. “Me, too. I’ve only been allowed to work on the press since about a year ago when Mr. Ivy started slowing down and passing the work load to Miss Ellison.”
Jared wasn’t surprised at Grump’s methods. It made sense. “How long have you worked here, Andrew?”
“Two years, sir.” He pulled the lever and the press lowered again. The two of them were efficient.
“Andrew’s very smart, though. Don’t expect to move up as quickly as he did.” Mary Lou let a tiny grin show at her words.
“I’ll try to keep up.” Jared laughed. So she was sarcastic, too. He appreciated her refusal to back down from controversy. Under different circumstances—like him not being the cause of the controversy—Jared might be attracted to a woman like Mary Lou Ellison.
She pushed the thought out of his mind with a smirk. “See that you do.”
He sobered and stood his ground on the matter. “I want to learn every aspect of the business. But I won’t be pushed to the side like I’m not the owner.”
Mary Lou stopped her work. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Consider what I’ve learned about Elmer Finch.” He pushed off his resting place against the desk and paced the front of the office.
“Who is Elmer Finch?” She drummed her fingers on the edge of the press as if she itched to get back to work.
“He’s the man the sheriff arrested. The newsagent for the railroad. But why was he running away when you opened the door?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Perhaps to avoid being caught up in the gunfire?”
“But his gun was drawn. Most people run without stopping to draw their weapon. And if he was going to return fire, wouldn’t he have taken cover inside the saloon?”
“Wait.” She creased her brow. “He said he’s the newsagent? I’ve never seen him before. The newsagent is an older man, slight-framed, with a mustache.”
Jared shook his head. “He said it’s his first day with the railroad.”
The