Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [92]
On stage, Lillie took a seat upon her throne, her train bearers arranging her gown amidst lilies, violets, and roses. The fire chief stepped to the podium, delivering a history of Brenham and Washington County, recounting incidents and legends that had been passed down since Richard Fox Brenham arrived at Washington on the Brazos in 1836.
Georgie pictured the hats on Ottfried’s tables. For every one an innocent bird had died. She searched the wooded copse beyond the stage. Somewhere in there a waxwing might be sitting politely digesting a meal of berries without disturbing a thing around it. An oriole might be weaving grasses with far more precision than any basket a person could make. A whippoorwill might be ridding the town of mosquitoes, gnats, June bugs, and katydids.
No. She would not feel sorry for Mr. Ottfried. Especially when there were things he could do to compensate. He had only to look to Mr. Mistrot’s example for ways to cleverly construct artificial birds, feathers, and quills.
She had nothing personal against Mr. Ottfried, nor his family. And if he mended his ways, she would quit her campaign against his millinery. Until then, however, she would stand firm and continue to do all she could to save the birds.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Though it wasn’t oppressively warm, many patrons, including Luke’s suspects, sampled the beer imported clear from St. Louis at Thirsty Man’s booth. Necker, Duane, Finkel, and Ragston had spent part of the day with their families, and a good deal more of it with each other.
If Frank Comer was in attendance, he was keeping well away from them, though an out-of-town fellow by the name of Prysborski received an overly warm welcome from the suspects. Luke had briefly visited with him and each of the others, met their families, then sat with the men during the baseball game while Georgie took a turn manning the Plumage League’s booth.
He picked up no new information. Still, the more time he spent with them, the more they would grow to trust him. No mention was made of their foray into Georgie’s home, nor of any upcoming train job.
But there was plenty of talk about Hurless Swanning, the man from the shooting tournament. Seemed he’d lost his life in a runaway carriage down in Cut ’N Shoot. While Blesinger and Duane shared what details they’d heard, Necker, Finkel, and Ragston remained strangely quiet.
After the game, Luke and Georgie waited for the sun to completely set and the evening’s dance to begin. They wandered through the pleasure grounds, listened to the fiddlers’ contest, and visited with the townsfolk.
Though the hobby-horse man still collected two pennies from anxious boys and girls, the line to his rocking steed was beginning to wane. Georgie pointed to one of her students as he was awarded a prize for catching the greased pig, then smiled over the fact he’d ruined his suit accomplishing the feat. In the center of the park, twelve charming little girls wove ribbons around the Maypole.
He noted Bettina watching the dancers when she thought no one was looking. Steering Georgie that direction, he pretended surprise when they happened upon her.
“Good evening, Bettina.” He tipped his hat.
“Howdy, Mr. Luke. Miss Georgie.” Her braids had long since come unraveled, her chin had an angry scuff, and more filth than usual coated her sack dress. But the swelling in her jaw had subsided some.
“I haven’t seen you much today,” Georgie said, reaching out to repair the girl’s hair.
She immediately drew back. “I been busy.”
Georgie let her hands drop. “Doing what?”
“Played me a game o’ ball with the fellers. Shot Mr. Weiss’s mules with my slingshot. Put a lizard down Birdie Jones’s dress. And helped Pa home ’cause he done forgot how to walk.”
Blinking, Georgie’s lips parted. “You mustn’t put lizards down young ladies’ necks—down anyone’s neck.”
Bettina squared her shoulders. “Weren’t my idea. Fred Hall paid me a penny to do it.”
“Fred Hall? Why, he wouldn’t do that. He adores Birdie.