A House Divided

"How does this make me a suspect?"

Old Sheriff Williams said nothing for a moment as he looked at the young man. "It doesn't, it might be relevant to the investigation. And I don't want to hear what you know through the grapevine, I want to hear it as you heard it and I want to know who said it."

The young farm was visibly nervous and adjusted his bowler hat. "Well, I'm not the one for gossip, but when I was at the general store I asked Mr. Stamford if we knew anything new about the murder. He said people thought they knew the motive, that Mr. Jones was having an affair."

"No one told me about that."

The man stuttered, "I assumed you knew, but I had to press Mr. Stamford because he is not the one for gossip either and he already said too much. But he came around and said that people were saying Mr. Jones was much closer to Caroline than a married man should be."

"Where'd he get it."

"He was much too embarrassed to say more."

Soon after Old Sheriff Williams found he had learned all he needed to know. He went to the hitching post out front, untied his horse, and mounted up. He left in no hurry as he used the slow ride to check his revolver. It was a licensed Colt copy with six chambers. Williams opened the side and rotated the chamber and found it exactly as he liked. Five loaded chambers, with the sixth empty so the hammer would not rest on a live round. This county was newly settled and lawless, but it was full of mostly good people. Drop fire and ram fire were real with these revolvers, and the assurance of no negligent discharge outweighed the benefit of an extra round on the off chance Williams ever had to us the gun for anything besides animals.

As Williams kicked his horse to a trot he wondered why people in these parts called him the Old Sheriff among themselves when Williams was in his mid-50s. His wife said that the gray in his trimmed beard made him look older.

Williams got into town, a loose collection of houses with a town square of crowded stores on a dusty street. Williams knew where the one he wanted was, and came up upon a narrow brick building labeled Stamford and Son. A bell rang as he walked through the door, and he saw Mr. Stamford's son stacking shelves behind the counter. He stared at Old Sheriff Williams without rising.

Williams said; "Good afternoon to you, James. I'm looking for your father."

James neither moved nor expressed emotion and said "He's down by the Sheriff's office looking for you."

Williams pondered, "Reckon he got the right idea. I thank you." He turned to leave and Mr. Stamford came through the door. They stared at each other a second knowing they had both came for the same conversation.

"Reckon you already know what I want to know."

Mr. Stamford looked down at his apron then back up, "I said more than what I know already."

"I will still be needing to hear it. I want to know who told you Mr. Jones was involved in Ms. Anderson, and I want to hear it exactly as they told you."

"I had suspected Mr. Jones was afixin' himself to get a new wife now that his wife could go any day now from consumption, poor woman." Mr. Stamford leaned against the wall and collected himself. "His nephew George who lives up there with them said his uncle had taken an interest in Ms. Anderson. James here later told me he had seen Ms. Anderson visiting their house when he delivered groceries, and I reckon that proved it. I started thinking that was why Jones was killed."

"Do you know that for a fact?"

"No. Like I said, I've said too much already. Just idle speculation."

"There is a lot of that round here. When did you hear all this."

"Over a month ago... Yes, I recall it was the day before the Fourth of July."

Williams raised his brows. "Did George seem broken up about this whole ordeal?"

"No, that was the strange part. He did not seem concerned in the slightest. Said it all offhand while talking about the celebrations the night before. I reckoned he was never particularly close to his aunt and uncle."

That was all Williams needed to hear, and he again mounted up. He pondered heavily, but trotted to his house. The Sheriff's office, house, and county jail were all one building of unhewn stone. He went into his house and told his oldest son to fetch his uncle, then went into the office and told his Deputy, Alexander DuPont, to mount up. He told them each he was about to make an arrest and one cannot be too careful.

The four of them mounted up, and onlookers knew with no words spoken what the business of this posse was. They trotted in silence, and a quarter of an hour later they arrived at the Jones farm. They all tied their horses, and Williams told his young son to watch the door when they went inside since he technically was not allowed to tag along on such business. Williams knocked, and as he expected George opened the door. The look George gave was awkward, but he invited them in asking "What's the occasion."

Williams said "People say you've been spreading rumors. Saying your late uncle was involved with Ms. Anderson."

"People talk," he replied.

"Except I know for a fact it isn't true, Ms. Anderson's farmhand saw her spurn him when she found out his wife was still alive, and that was near three months ago. She told him to turn your uncle and you away if they should ever call at her house. Why then were you telling people they in fact were together around the time of the Fourth of July?"

George said nothing a moment. "Listen here, what does this have to do with anything? It's not any concern of mine who Uncle Bill goes a-fornicating with."

"Yes, I know that from the last time I was called up here when you and your uncle were fightin' with each other. Would you say you were close to your uncle before he died?"

"No, I lived here after my parents died and stayed on for work. I reckon I'd head out farther west when the money is in order."

"Indeed it is now. Your uncle's lawyer said your aunt Emily managed to get out of bed in order to head down to his office not two weeks ago. Changed the will from giving everything to his daughter who is with her husband down in Wilson County, now it gives near on everything to you. The will bore your uncle's signature but he never heard anything about it from your uncle."

George was stern and chose his words carefully "No way I could have known about any of that."

"But did you? The killer stole a locket that Ms. Anderson gave him and left it on her doorstep along with a piece of his nether regions. Whoever did this believed Ms. Anderson was involved with your uncle, and was very angry about it."

George Jones stared at them clearly angry at this point and simply said, "You all know what, I got something in the back that might rightly prove my innocence to you." He stormed off and they all heard the sound of a chain being removed.

Williams yelled, "JUNIOR, GET IN HERE."

William's son and George entered the drawing room at the same time, only George was brandishing a double-barreled shotgun. Four guns were drawn and all men were deafened by the rapid-fire filling the room with smoke. Williams was waving the smoke away and they all found George had been shot dead before he had a chance to fire. The men approached and stood around the body, George's life clinging just long enough to stare back at them for a moment before he died.

Deputy DuPont said, "There's just one more thing."

They found the stairs and ascended in silence. They heard Emily's coughing in the bedroom, clearly in distress but unable to rise up due to the consumption. She saw them and said "Good heavens, officers. What happened?"

"We just shot George."

She was silent a moment as she seemed to purge emotion and repeated quickly and matter-of-factly a well-rehearsed line, "George is a good soul and would never hurt no one."

They all stood there in distressed silence, as they neither had the time nor will for more shenanigans.

William's brother said, "Come on Emily. We know it all."

"Know what?"

Williams resumed the interrogation where he left off with George, "When Ms. Anderson met you three months ago you threatened her."

Emily took exaggerated offense and denied the charge.

"Your husband had flirted with several young women round town, gave Ms. Anderson the impression you were already dead."

Emily did not deny any of that.

"He was bold enough to entertain Ms. Anderson as a guest in this house while you were sick in bed. Did this on several occasions over the past year that we know of. Ms. Anderson said she came up here looking for your husband only to find you. She said you were very upset, said there would be consequences if you ever saw her again."

Emily had been busy coughing but flew into a rage starting with, "That TRAMP-"

"Enough! We know for a fact Ms. Anderson did not come back here, so who told your nephew the two of them were involved as of the Fourth of July."

"There's no way I could have-"

"There is! You paid George to do it. You forged your husband's signature, leaving the farm to George but none of his money with the stipulation he will not be able to sell the farm until both you and your husband were dead. George would take care of you in your last days and your husband would be in a shallow grave with a gut full of lead."

She continued her venomous denial as her distress worsened her coughing and wheezing. Her handkerchief was already spotted red from coughing blood for months, and her frame was concerningly thin. But this time she looked at her hand and there appeared to be a small chunk of fleshy material that she coughed up. She seemed to be trying to take a deep breath but nothing happened. She got paler with a blue tint, and all four men watched her die.

It was not until six weeks later that the judge came to town and reviewed every detail of the case. He found the best that could have been done already was done. He remarked in the growing towns they never seemed to be able to hire new people fast enough to deal with the increasing caseload as a mere three decades ago there were only a handful of homesteads in this region.