Jace Diamond was a handsome man, Priscilla thought. She’d parked herself on a bench across the street from the sheriff’s office and had been watching him for several minutes. He was tall with dark hair, and looked every bit the Texas Ranger he used to be. When she plied Martha Tindle at the mercantile for information on him, she should have asked how long he’d been one, but Sebastian wanted her to find out his daily routine, not his past. Still, in her mind it was one thing to have a small-town sheriff to tangle with, quite another to deal with a Ranger.

“Priscilla Holbrook, as I live and breathe.” Mrs. Bee strolled up the boardwalk, a basket on her arm. “I heard you were back in town.”

“Yes. Congratulate me.”

“So it’s true? You’re engaged to be married?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Mrs. Bee. After all, some lucky bachelor was bound to catch me eventually. And what about you – how’s life at the boarding house?” Of course she already knew the woman led a dismal life, having lost her husband to influenza. But Priscilla had to hand it to her – she’d sold their small farm, started up the boarding house to support herself and done a good job of it too.

“It would be better if the sheriff would stop nosing around, disturbing my guests. I’ve already told him everything I know.”

Priscilla’s eyes lit up. Sebastian was supposed to be snooping around the boarding house while she watched the sheriff. Wouldn’t he be proud to discover she got both their jobs done? “You poor thing. I know how upset I’d be if my life were so disrupted. Aren’t they through investigating yet?”

“No!” Mrs. Bee snapped. “I didn’t mind at first, but now it’s such a nuisance.”

Priscilla patted the spot next to her. “Have a seat – tell me all about it.”

“Why, don’t mind if I do.” Mrs. Bee sat and placed the basket on her lap. “They still won’t let me rent Jasper’s room out.”

Priscilla’s eyebrows rose at her use of the man’s Christian name, but at this point everyone was referring to him that way – “poor Jasper” this and “poor Jasper” that. “But it’s been almost two weeks. Don’t they realize they’re taking your livelihood away from you? I know that room costs more than the tiny little one my betrothed is staying in.”

“Your betrothed?” the older woman said in shock.

“Why, yes – Mr. Cord. We’re both in town to inform my parents of our engagement.”

Mrs. Bee broke out a smile. “I had no idea he was your beau. What a nice man – very polite. Likes his mashed potatoes.”

Priscilla raised an eyebrow. “He does?”

“Don’t forget, I serve dinner at the house. Your Mr. Cord finishes off the potatoes every night he dines with us. I don’t know what it’s like at your house.”

“This time of year, we eat a lot of corn on the cob. No potatoes lately. But never mind about him … I mean, the potatoes. When do you think you could rent Jasper’s room to my Sebastian? He’s such a big man, and I know he can’t be comfortable in that cramped little space.”

“Yes, I really should use that room for storage again. But it would be nice to have another one to rent out.” She glanced across the street. “It’s up to the sheriff, though.”

Priscilla followed her gaze and saw Sheriff Diamond step off the boardwalk, cross the street and enter the bank. “Now why do you suppose he’s going in there?”

“Could be anything. Maybe he just got paid.”

“I don’t know. You’d think he’d be trying to solve Jasper’s murder instead of playing with his money.” Priscilla frowned. She needed to get more information. “Will the sheriff be searching the boarding house again?”

“I hope not! I’m through with this nonsense. Besides, the scoundrel that killed poor Jasper is probably long gone by now.”

“Yes, but why would anyone kill that poor man in the first place? My mama says he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Except maybe a horsefly.”

Mrs. Bee laughed at her joke. “He was a nice man. Quiet, kept to himself. Couldn’t read, poor dear.”

“So my mama said.” Of course, Priscilla was well aware Jasper was illiterate. It was one of the reasons Sebastian picked him to be his messenger boy. “Which makes me wonder how on earth he was able to get a mail-order bride.”

“Oh, he managed that just fine. But that poor girl …”

Priscilla forced a pout. “Yes, poor little thing.”

“I see she’s working at the café,” Mrs. Bee said as she stood.

“Yes,” Priscilla agreed, distracted. She wasn’t getting much out of the woman – no more than she had out of Martha Tindle.

“I’ll speak with the sheriff, then. As soon as the room becomes available, your Mr. Cord can have it.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bee,” Priscilla said. “That’s very kind of you. He likes his space.”

“It’s just as well he move to the end of the hall anyway,” she said. “I have another guest who stays with me now and then who likes that little room next to mine.” She giggled to herself, straightened and, with a nod, continued down the boardwalk.

Priscilla watched her go and sighed in frustration. Well, at least she could tell Sebastian she tried. Speaking of which, where was Sebastian? They were supposed to be meeting for lunch at … ah yes, the café. She wondered if Fletcher’s new pet would be working today. She’d seen him around town, but he looked horribly distracted, his mind on anything but his mayoral campaign. Was he distracted by the murder case … or the little trollop Jasper had sent for?

Really, it didn’t matter which. She’d set out to plant a heaping dose of doubt between him and his little trollop, and it hadn’t worked. But as it turned out, at least according to Martha, he was falling head over heels with her – and that was keeping him better occupied than any sort of division she could’ve caused between them. As long as he was distracted, that’s all that mattered.

But she and Sebastian needed more than that. They were getting nowhere, and needed more time to find out who killed Jasper and stole their prize. She almost felt sorry for the poor sap that took what belonged to them. Whoever did, once Sebastian got a hold of him, he was a dead man.

* * *

“I’m telling you, Sheriff, the man made no unusual deposits.”

Jace rubbed his chin a few times. “Jasper couldn’t read, had no money to speak of and didn’t even go up to Portland or Salem for supplies.”

Mr. Daley the banker pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead with it. He was a stout little man with a balding head and bright blue eyes. “I wish this business would be over. The wife doesn’t feel safe. She’s even suggested we move.”

“Move?” Jace said in surprise. “Now see here, Mr. Daley, I’ll get the job done. You tell your wife that.”

“It’s been almost two weeks, Sheriff, and you haven’t got it done yet. Nor has that Fletcher Vander. I thought he was supposed to be helping you.”

“He is helping me.”

Mr. Daley looked skeptical. “He’s only helping two things, far as I can tell – his march to City Hall, and his march to the altar.”

“What?” Jace said with a frown. “To the altar?”

“You mean you don’t know? From what I hear, Fletcher’s more than a little sweet on Munson’s mail-order bride. They’re courting.”

“Do tell?”

“I mean, love blooms where it does, I know. But how are we ever going to get this mess resolved when he’s all cow-eyed over some woman?”

Jace started to smile. Just as well – he worked better alone – but he should talk to Fletcher nonetheless. He hadn’t in a few days, letting the man concentrate on his campaign. But obviously, he wasn’t concentrating on it too much. “Thanks for taking the time to talk with me, Mr. Daley. Tell your wife she has nothing to worry about – most likely, whoever killed poor Jasper is long gone.”

“How can you be sure?” the banker asked, his eyes full of suspicion.

“On account there’s nothing here. For all we know, it was somebody Jasper crossed from the last town he lived in. I hear tell he was there awhile.”

“Did Martha Tindle tell you that?”

“No, Mayor Vander did.” The mayor was a bigger gossip than Martha. Hmmm … maybe he should question him.

“Just so’s you get this cleaned up. Be a shame to have a cloud hanging over the Fourth of July celebration next week.”

Jace nodded. “Sure would.” He placed his hands on his hips and sighed. “There’s just something not right about this. Not right at all.”

“What’s right about a man being killed in broad daylight for no reason? What’s this world coming to?” The banker threw his hands in the air.

“Mark my words, Mr. Daley. There’s always a reason.” Jace left the bank and strode across the street to his office, where a visitor was waiting outside. “Hello, Mrs. Bee. What are you doing here?” He opened the door and motioned her inside.

“I’ve come to see if you have everything you need, Sheriff,” she said as she entered. “I have someone who wants to rent Mr. Munson’s old room at the end of the hall. It’s the biggest room I have and the most expensive. I’m losing money because of you.” She pointed an accusing finger at him.

Jace sighed as he closed the door, then crossed the room to his desk. “I realize that, Mrs. Bee, and I do appreciate your situation. Tell you what – let me and Fletcher search the room once more. Then you can rent it to whomever it is that wants it.”

She straightened in triumph. “Thank you. It’s about time – I can’t begin to tell you how stressful this has been for me.”

Jay studied her a moment. For some reason, whenever there was a murder, everyone seemed to try being a victim. In this case, the one person he’d expect to take on the role had proved to be the strongest. Miss Baxter had found a job to support herself and would soon be taking a room at the boarding house, rumor had it. No wonder Mrs. Bee wanted this wrapped up. He silently chastised himself for missing that fact and leaned against his desk. “We’ll be by as soon as we can.”

“Thank you,” she said curtly, then left.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Jace ran a hand through his hair and sighed again. He went to the small stove, poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat, leaned back in his chair and rested his booted feet on the desk – one of his favorite things to do. He glanced around the small office, then at the door – one of his other favorite things to do.

That door meant freedom. He missed riding the range and tracking criminals. Maybe he should’ve taken his brother’s offer and helped him with his hotel. But Conrad had an army of children under foot, and Jace was no babysitter. No, he’d made the decision to come here and be the new sheriff, create a better life for himself and settle down.

So far, though, all he had was the job. Fletcher was the one heading toward matrimony, not him. To top it off, it’d been no secret that Jasper had a mail-order bride coming, and he’d considered asking Jasper how he went about it, but never got the chance. But if middle-aged, illiterate Jasper could be sent a pretty little thing like Miss Baxter, what might he get? He envied Fletcher, and truth be told, he’d envied Jasper. He was lonely and wanted a woman in his life.

But one thing at a time. He had a murder to solve first.

Jace drained his cup, stood, put on his hat and went to find the man that could help him solve this case. He just hoped Fletcher wasn’t so lovesick he couldn’t think straight. It was a good thing the killer had probably moved on. Fletcher’s concern over protecting Miss Baxter was valid. Maybe he’d suggest that Fletcher and Miss Baxter get married right away – what better way to protect her than as her husband? Then Jace could be about his own business.

He smiled to himself as he walked down the boardwalk toward Main Street. Yep, that’s what he’d do. Besides, he always did like weddings. He just really wished he could have one of his own.

* * *

Several days later …

“Oh, Betsy, isn’t it wonderful?” Mercy asked. “Just look at the way he looks at her.” They and the usual army of volunteers had gathered in the church to put some final touches on things for the Fourth of July celebration.

“Mm-hmm. He gazes at her any harder, she’s liable to catch fire or something.”

Mercy playfully slapped her on the arm. “Now, Betsy, this is as much your fault as anyone’s. You and Cecil made their special dinner the other night so wonderful. I’m still surprised they didn’t kiss.”

“I thought you and Mr. Vander didn’t want them too, ‘cause it was improper or some such.”

“If you must know, I was all for it. But poor Horace was worried about Fletcher’s reputation, what with the election and all.”

“If Fletcher finds out you two were hiding in the bushes watching him and Miss Baxter, he won’t be too happy.”

“Well then, let’s not let him find out,” Mercy said pointedly.” Besides, Fletcher knows his grandfather and I are hopeless romantics.”

“Hopeless is right,” Betsy muttered to herself. The four had acted as chaperones to the best of their considerable abilities the night of Fletcher and Sophie’s dinner. Apparently they’d done too good a job – Fletcher hadn’t even tried to steal a kiss. But given how much they’d laughed together and stared into each other’s eyes, all of them knew love was brewing. The only thing in question was the timetable.

“Oh, Betsy,” Mercy said. “Do you think they’ll make me a great-grandmother right away?”

Betsy’s eyebrows slowly rose. “Mrs. Vander, why don’t you let them worry about courting first? In fact, let’s let him go at his own pace from now on. Fletcher’s not the type to just up and propose this soon. He’s trying to give the poor girl some time.”

“Time for what, for Heaven’s sake? The girl’s had all the time in the world.”

“She hasn’t even been here two weeks.”

“Well, Horace and I fell in love right away. Why can’t they?”

“I think they have – they’re just being careful not to hurt each other. They’ve both been through some stuff, after all. Besides, every girl wants a little romance before she’s married.”

“Before?” Mercy rolled her eyes. “Working at romance is one of the biggest parts of being married. She figures that out, then she’ll have lots of it.”

Betsy smiled. It was true, she’d had more romance after she married Cecil than she ever did before.

“Gran Mercy!” Fletcher said with a happy smile as he approached. “Have you seen Father?”

“No, I don’t think he’s here yet. He’s gathering more volunteers for me. We’ll need flowers picked the day before the celebration. I like wildflowers best.”

Sophie joined them, smiling shyly. “Mrs. Vander, Betsy. We finished all the paper decorations and the food’s been finalized. Other than the flowers for the tables, I think everything’s ready.”

“Spoken like a true organizer,” Mercy said, clapping her hands. “You’ve been such a help, dear. I can’t wait to put you to work on the Christmas pageant!”

Sophie smiled and glanced at Fletcher. He smiled back and took her by the hand. Betsy and Mercy watched her cheeks turn pink.

“Now, why don’t the two of you run along and get yourself some lunch?” suggested Mercy. “You both must be hungry by now.”

“I could do with a sandwich,” Fletcher admitted.

“Mind if I join you?” Jace had just come down the church aisle. He glanced at the different campaign signs mixed with Fourth of July decorations. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Yes. And you?” Fletcher asked.

Jace glanced between Fletcher and Sophie. “Wish I were busier.”

Fletcher frowned. “No new leads, I gather.”

“Nothing, I’m afraid. I told Mrs. Bee we’d check Jasper’s room one more time, then let her get it back in circulation. She’s losing money because of us.”

“She has a point,” Betsy said.

Fletcher nodded. “What say we grab something to eat, then take one last look? Maybe we’ll find something we missed.”

“Stranger things have happened. How are you doing, Miss Baxter?” Jace noticed her hand clasped in Fletcher’s. “Good, I take it?”

She blushed. “Yes, quite.”

“She’s settled in nicely,” Fletcher said. “In fact, she almost didn’t get the morning off to help us today – she and Darcy have been trading shifts. Of course, if they’re not working at the café they’re working for Gran.”

Jace smiled. “At least we know where to find you.” He watched Betsy and Fletcher’s grandmother make their way to the other side of the sanctuary. “Why don’t you go gather your things, Miss Baxter? We’ll wait right here.”

She smiled at Fletcher and headed off.

The men watched her go for a moment before Fletcher spoke. “What is it?”

Jace put his hands on his hips and sighed. “You’re going to marry her?”

“I plan on it.”

He smiled. “Have you proposed yet?”

“Of course not. If I had, it would be all over town. She just needs time. I’m not going to push her.”

“And I’m not going to push you to work with me anymore after today. Best you concentrate on running for office and protecting that pretty little gal. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Jace, we started this together – we’ll finish it that way.”

“If you insist, Fletch. But the truth is, something’s not right with this. There’s something important we’re missing. And personally, I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind to go any further on this.”

“What?” Fletcher snapped.

Jace held up his hands. “Don’t get upset. I’m just trying to work with your strengths. Right now you’re focus is on Miss Baxter. I’m only suggesting it stay there. I may have to go out of town, talk to folks that knew Jasper before he came to Independence.”

“So we’re back to the theory that someone from his past did it?”

“I think it’s all we have left at this point unless we turn up something at the boarding house. And we’ve searched that room three times already.”

“That’s true,” Fletcher conceded. “Very well – you do what you have to, and I’ll take care of Sophie.”

“Protect her, you mean?” he said with a wink.

Fletcher quickly glanced at Sophie, who was speaking with his mother on the other side of the church. “Yes.”

Jace slapped him on the back. “Good man. Why don’t you think about proposing on the Fourth of July?”

Fletcher looked at her again and smiled. “Maybe.”