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Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jacob Turner sighed and lifted his hat as he brushed his hair back.

"Them vagrants are going to steal my turnips!" Mrs. Alcott said, wrinkling her nose. "I want them gone!"

"Mrs. Alcott, the Branson boys live on your street. They're not vagrants. They are twelve and eleven years old. Have any of your turnips gone missing?"

"No," Mrs. Alcott grumbled, "but they're thinking of it! I can see it in their eyes when they walk past my house, hootin' and hollerin' as they go."

Jacob stared at her for a moment, trying to determine if she was serious or not. "With all due respect—"

"Don't you give me that nonsense!" Mrs. Alcott waved a finger in his face.

Her grey hair was standing up in all directions, and her finger resembled a gnarled carrot. Spittle flew from her mouth as she chastised him, causing him to lean back to avoid getting hit. Her dress was so faded that he couldn't make out the original print, and her shoes were covered in mud.

Jacob looked longingly at the desk he had occupied as a deputy. It was still empty. He had yet to find someone to fill the position. Jacob had worked as a deputy for the better part of a decade, dreaming of the day he might finally become sheriff. He'd been given all the boring jobs and had suffered through more interactions with Mrs. Alcott than he could count. Now, he was sheriff, but nothing much had changed.

"Whenever someone starts their story with ‘all due respect'," she used air quotes around the words as she spoke, "they're sure to say something disrespectful."

"Mrs. Alcott, you can't believe that you can read those boys' minds," Jacob pleaded. "I've spoken to Mrs. Branson about it before. She's tried to be understanding, but she can't very well lock her boys up all day."

"Bah!" Mrs. Alcott spat. "Why not? It'll be practice for when they're in jail someday."

Jacob massaged his temples. "They can't move house just because you don't like the boys. And the boys can't stay inside all day. Now, I've asked them to avoid your house, but there's only so much we can reasonably do."

Mrs. Alcott put her hands on her hips and glared at him sternly. "Do more."

He sighed. What had he expected her to say? Mrs. Alcott was a creature of habit and had a mean streak a mile wide. Logic couldn't pierce through that much crazy. He leaned back in his chair and regarded her carefully.

Before he could say anything, the door opened, and a woman slipped in. His breath caught in his throat. Emily Carter. She'd moved into town less than a year prior with her now-deceased husband. He'd noticed her right away.

Her looks had certainly played a part in catching his notice. Emily had pretty blonde hair that shone when the sun hit it, and green eyes that reminded him of the forests that surrounded their fair town. However, it had been her demeanor that caused him to look at her again.

Once, while shopping at the General Store, he'd seen a child drop their candied apple in the street. The child had wailed in distress while his mother tried to soothe him. Emily had walked up to them and presented the child with a new candied apple. It seemed that every time he saw her; she was doing something kind for someone.

Of course, when she'd first moved to Willow Creek, she'd been married. Jacob had averted his eyes and pushed thoughts of her out of his mind. It wasn't meant to be. And then her poor husband had died.

He sat up a little straighter as she walked in and tried to keep his eyes from straying toward her. Jacob must not have been very successful because Mrs. Alcott turned and narrowed her eyes at Emily.

"What do you want, girl?"

Emily's eyes widened. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I was only hoping to see the sheriff for a moment. You were here first, though. Please continue."

She carried a basket in her hands, and brought it in front of her, as if shielding herself from the older woman.

Mrs. Alcott scoffed and waved dismissively at Jacob. "I'm just about done. This one's useless. At least the previous sheriff had some backbone!"

Jacob's mouth dropped open indignantly. First off, Sheriff Rutters couldn't stand Mrs. Alcott, which was why Jacob was always stuck dealing with her complaints. And secondly, why did she have to disparage him in front of Emily? Surely, that wasn't necessary?

"Oh dear," Emily murmured. "What seems to be the problem?"

She glanced at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. It told him that no matter what Mrs. Alcott said, she was already on his side. Jacob tilted his head at her, feeling an instant kinship. They were in this together. He offered her a tentative smile, and the corners of her mouth lifted almost imperceptibly in response.

"Them hoodlums are going to steal my turnips." Mrs. Alcott put her hands on her hips and glared at Jacob. "He's not going to do anything about it. Come winter, I'll starve, and he'll be tucked away in his home, as happy as a pig in mud."

"Now wait just a minute, Mrs. Alcott," Jacob started with a frown.

"How terrible." Emily shook her head, ignoring him completely. "We simply cannot allow you to starve. How about I bring over some wild strawberry jam? And I'm certain you can always get a fresh loaf of bread at Harrow's Bakery. I was just talking to Amy earlier today, and she was telling me how good her father's bread is."

Mrs. Alcott sniffed. "I ain't got the money for bread from a bakery."

This was almost certainly a lie. Despite her rather ratty appearance, Mrs. Alcott's husband had left her with a tidy sum after he died. It was more than enough to keep her comfortably for the rest of her days, but Mrs. Alcott was a notorious miser. She would never pay for anything she could get for free.

Emily shrugged. "I shall have to bring some of my own loaves. I always have far too much bread leftover when I bake these days."

A shadow of sadness passed over her face. Jacob pitied her situation and gave her a sympathetic look, which she ignored.

"Well, all right," Mrs. Alcott sighed.

She was clearly mollified by the prospect of free food, especially fresh bread and sugary jam.

Emily beamed proudly, and he gave her a grateful smile. He was still new at this and hadn't found a way to deal effectively with the likes of Mrs. Alcott. For now, it seemed as though the crisis had been averted. Or at least, that's what it looked like until she opened her mouth again.

"I suppose I won't starve if all my turnips go missing. I'll have to rig some bear traps in my garden, just in case."

"Bear traps?" Jacob jumped to his feet as Mrs. Alcott made her way to the door.

"Yes," she said over her shoulder, "surely you don't expect me to sit idly by while those hooligans rob me blind?"

"What if someone gets caught in those traps by accident?" Jacob asked, walking around his desk.

"It will be their fault for trespassing on my land!" Mrs. Alcott pointed out. "Besides, there's no law against setting bear traps in my garden!"

Jacob sputtered, trying to think of a way to dissuade her from setting potentially deadly traps in her garden. What if she forgot where she put them and went out to water her precious turnips?

A loud snap echoed in the back of Jacob's mind. He winced at the thought.

"If you set bear traps in your yard, there's no way I'm making the trip to bring you free jam and bread." Emily raised her eyebrows at Mrs. Alcott.

The older widow stopped in her tracks, seemingly mulling over Emily's words. It was a battle of wills between the two as Mrs. Alcott raised her chin defiantly. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Jacob looked between them, at a complete loss as to what he was supposed to do.

"Fine. I'll put spikes on my fence and hope for the best." With that, Mrs. Alcott swept out of the office and Jacob fell back into his chair.

"You deserve a medal for that," Jacob said, allowing himself to melt into his chair.

Emily shrugged and put the basket on his desk. "It was the least I could do. You were thoroughly outmatched!"

"Arguing with a crazy person is like trying to rope the wind. It ain't gonna happen no matter how good your aim is." Jacob shook his head.

She chuckled at his joke.

"How can I help you today?" Jacob interlaced his fingers on the desk and leaned forward.

"I don't know if you can help me if Mrs. Alcott is to be believed," Emily said good-naturedly as she sat down.

Jacob winced. "Please don't judge my abilities based on Mrs. Alcott's word. She may have praised Sheriff Rutters now, but when he was around, she used to call him a hooligan too."

Emily shook her head. "Thank you for the warning. I suppose I'll have to make up my own mind about your abilities."

He inclined his head toward her. "It's all I can ask of you. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

Emily sighed and her shoulders dropped. "I need your help, Sheriff… I don't know how much Sheriff Rutters told you about Richard's death."

Jacob raised his eyebrows. Willow Creek had no more than a couple hundred inhabitants. The community was tight-knit and there wasn't much privacy. He'd heard about Richard's death almost as soon as it was discovered. No one had talked much about it, however, as no one knew him all that well and there wasn't anything interesting about a man who died while trying to fish in a flooded river.

His death had been ruled an accident, and everyone agreed that newcomers should be more careful about where they fished. Of course, he wasn't going to tell her any of that; it would only upset her more.

"He told me about the accident," Jacob said slowly.

Emily frowned and studied his expression. "Did he tell you about my suspicions?"

"Suspicions?" Jacob echoed dumbly.

She leaned back in her chair with a grimace. "Of course, he didn't. Sheriff Rutters never took anything I said seriously."

"Don't feel too badly about that," Jacob said. "He threw me in the deep end before he left. I'm up to my neck in alligators here."

Emily fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve as she listened to him. When she didn't say anything, he was pierced with guilt. She had obviously come to tell him something important, and here he was complaining about his problems. Jacob shook his head at his folly.

"I apologize for my bellyachin'," he winced. "Why don't you tell me about these suspicions of yours?"

Emily looked up and chewed on her bottom lip, clearly conflicted.

"Go on," he said gently, "you can tell me."

"I think my husband's death wasn't an accident."

Out of everything she had been about to say, he hadn't expected that. He stared at her in shock for a brief moment.

"What do you mean?"

Emily sighed and looked down. "Richard couldn't swim. He hated water. And I never saw him fishing or talk about fishing in all the time we were married."

Jacob's mind processed her words. He compared what she was saying to what he had heard about Richard's death.

"He might not have gone fishing," Jacob pointed out. "When it rains so much, the creek can be unpredictable. Floods happen in a flash. For all we know, he might have been out for a walk when the water came past and took him."

Emily shook her head firmly. "No. You don't understand, Richard hated water. He wouldn't have gone for a walk there. He told me his brother drowned when he was younger and he couldn't face going anywhere near the water again. Besides, the day he left, he told me he was going to see a friend of his."

Jacob listened intently and grabbed onto an explanation when he saw one presenting itself. The alternative was that someone in town deliberately killed Richard. He knew everyone in town, and not one of them was capable of murder. At least, he hoped they weren't.

"There we have it." Jacob gestured meaningfully. "Perhaps he went for a walk with his friend."

As soon as he said the words, he knew it was a stupid thing to say. If Richard had gone for a walk with a friend, why hadn't the friend tried to help him when the water got too high?

Emily's shoulders drooped. She got to her feet and took a deep breath. "Sheriff Rutters dismissed me, too. Thank you for your time, and have a good day."

She turned to leave. Regret bubbled up from his throat. What had he done?

"Emily, wait… you forgot your basket."

She shook her head. "No, I brought some preserves for you and your family. Like I said, I always have leftover food nowadays."

Jacob bit down on his lip and looked at the basket. No one had ever been murdered in Willow Creek since it had been founded fifty years ago. Everyone in town was friendly with each other. And why would anyone have a reason to kill Richard Carter? The man had been quiet and had kept to himself.

And yet… Emily knew him best. She felt so strongly about it that she had approached the sheriff about it. And now she had come to him. He was still young, and the job was new. It was up to him to decide what kind of sheriff he was going to be.

Jacob was at a crossroads. It was time to make a decision.

"Emily!" He hurried after her, causing her to look back at him in shock. "Tell me more about your suspicions."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "Do you believe me?"

Jacob nodded. "I'll look into it to the best of my ability."

She smiled and walked back inside. Relief flooded Jacob. Even if Richard's death was an accident and he was wasting his time, at least he got to talk to Emily a little longer. Although, that certainly hadn't been why he decided to listen to her.

This was the first step in proving that he was going to take care of people in town, no matter what their complaints were. They could trust him, and he was going to prove it.

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