Authors: Dorothy Garlock
An unwanted thought crept into her mind and she pondered what life with Wade Simmer would be like. Wade would never leave
the hills, so his family would live in his house. There would be dogs and horses and… children… long summer days in the open
air, long winter nights in a warm bed.
Her thoughts dwelled on the intimate side of married life. Wade would be a demanding lover. Oh, Lord! What did she know about
a lover? What did she know about Wade Simmer?
Jesse battled the storm of confusion that pounded inside her and came to realize that there was only one course of action.
When she saw him again, and there was no doubt she would, she would treat him politely, but coolly. He must never know that
she was even mildly attracted to him. She flopped over on her side. The very next invitation she received from a man she would
accept. Hastily she qualified the promise to herself by adding unless it came from Edsel Harper.
As Jesse walked past the bank on her way to the school to catch Pauline before she left for home, Edsel Harper came out the
door and called to her.
“Miss Jesse, do you have a minute?”
Jesse paused and watched Edsel come toward her. He was not an unattractive man when seen from a distance. He was tall, broad-shouldered
and dressed in the latest fashion. Up close, however, one could see that his light hair was thinning, his eyes were close-set,
his brows met over his nose and his full red lips were shaped like a woman’s. Edsel’s chin receded sharply, and Jesse wondered
why he didn’t wear a beard to cover it. Probably his mother wouldn’t allow it.
“I was concerned when I heard you had gone to the hills, Miss Jesse. I’m glad you’re back unharmed.”
“There was no need for concern—”
“Oh, but there was. Beside all the other undesirables that live in the hills, this man, Wade Simmer, lives there. He’s most
likely the man who has been invading the bedrooms of our women folk. I tell you, Papa’s in a regular snit over it.”
“Why do you say it’s Mr. Simmer? Has anyone seen him crawling into a bedroom window?”
“Not that, my dear.” He patted her arm. “But he’s been seen in town on the nights women have been molested.”
“That doesn’t make him the culprit. Papa thinks it’s someone from Fredrick or Grover. Surely a man wouldn’t be dumb enough
to do something like that in his own town.”
“Your papa is absolutely right, but we must include hill people. They are a dangerous lot.”
Jesse felt her anger rising. “That’s debatable, Edsel, but I don’t have the time right now.”
“Of course. Of course. By the way, Mama is having a musicale followed by a tea on Sunday afternoon. She asked me to extend
an invitation. I would be honored to come and escort you and Mrs. Lindstrom. Mama is quite taken with her. She thinks it admirable
the lady has come to take care of her dear friend’s home and children.”
“Edsel, I’m sure our
housekeeper
would be honored to have you escort her to your mother’s little social. I’ve made plans to go to a ball game with my brother.”
“Oh, but couldn’t you—?”
“No, I couldn’t. Good-bye, Edsel. I hope you have a lovely time with… our housekeeper.”
Seething at the way Mrs. Lindstrom had whitewashed her job with the family, Jesse proceded down the board walk. She stopped
and gazed unseeing at the hats in the window of the millinery shop. How dare that woman tie herself to the family because
of a friendship of twenty years ago—a doubtful friendship at that.
The newspaper office was next to the millinery. Jesse opened the door and went in. Mr. Marsh, the publisher of the
Harpersville Gazette,
was sorting type. When the bell on the door jingled, he looked up, tilted the visor cap back, and picked up a rag to wipe
his hands.
“Hello, Miss Jesse. How was your stay in the hill country?” t
Jesse laughed. She liked Ralph Marsh, liked his wife, Geneva, and his two married daughters. He was one of only a few men
in town who stood up to Boyd Harper.
“Very uneventful except for the scarlet fever epidemic, which will probably hit town in the next few weeks. I’ve written a
news story telling parents to watch for early symptoms.”
When she extended a folded paper, he motioned for her to place it on his desk.
“My hands are inky,” he explained. “I need a printer’s devil to sort this type. My helper got itchy feet and took off last
week. I have to break down this week’s edition by myself.”
“Don’t let me interrupt. We can visit while you work.”
“And I’ll be putting the A’s in the W’s and the S’s in the L’s. Now if I were rich like some people I know, I’d buy one of
those linotype machines. I saw one in Knox-ville. Works slicker than a whistle.”
“What in the world is a linotype machine?”
“It’s a machine that makes type out of hot lead. It has a keyboard somewhat like a typewriter. The characters are cast in
metal in a complete line the exact width of a column. You can set a whole column in less time than it would take to set ten
lines by picking out individual letters. After the type is used, it’s melted down and reused.”
“Forevermore! I had no idea such a machine existed.”
“Well, I can forget about it. It costs a lot of money and I’ll not make it here in Harpersville.”
Jesse picked up a newspaper and read a headline on the front page. LADIES! LOCK YOUR DOORS. She glanced at Mr. Marsh and grinned.
“Boyd Harper won’t like that.”
Ralph Marsh grinned back. “I’m sure.”
“According to Marshal Wright,” Jesse read, “no new attacks have been reported. However, that does not mean The Looker is no
longer active. According to the Marshal, the ladies who have had this harrowing experience are reluctant to discuss it, and
he has only a very few clues as to the man’s identity.”
“Sorry business, but you can’t sweep it under the rug and pretend it isn’t happening. The more women folk are aware of it
the more precautions they will take.”
“The Harpers think it’s Wade Simmer.” Jesse looked directly into Mr. Marsh’s eyes to gauge his reaction to her statement.
He laughed. “You don’t agree?” she asked.
“No, I don’t agree. It’s convenient to lay the blame on Simmer. Harpers and Simmers have been at each other’s throats since
before the war. It’s been passed down from generation to generation. Boyd’s daddy had Wade’s daddy hanged with only a mockery
of a trial. ’Course, there was no doubt that Alvin. Simmer shot Buford Harper. What was covered up was the fact Buford was
in bed with Alvin’s wife at the time.”
Jesse drew in a deep breath. “How awful. I’ve never heard that side of it before.”
“Few have. That girl was nothing but trouble. Alvin married her in Chattanooga and brought her down here. She was pretty as
a picture and wild as a deer. She took off after the killing, leaving Wade with his granny. As far as I know, it’s the last
anyone has heard of her.”
“Why do the Harpers hate Wade? He had nothing to do with that. Heavens, he was just a little boy.”
“For one thing, Boyd discovered that Wade’s got quite a bit of money in banks in Knoxville and Chattanooga and not a dime
in his bank. He’s eaten up with curiosity as to where Wade got the money.”
“I suppose he thinks he stole it.”
Ralph’s eyes twinkled. “That’s exactly what he thinks.”
“My goodness. It’s like Boyd to think the worst.”
The bell jingled and they both looked toward the door. The man who entered removed his hat quickly when he saw Jesse. He had
an engaging grin and a jaunty air when he tipped his head in greeting.
“Afternoon, ma’am.”
“Afternoon,” she replied. “I’ll be running along, Mr. Marsh. Give my regards to Geneva.”
“I’ll do that, Miss Jesse.”
“Ma’am, don’t let me interrupt,” the young man said quickly. “I’m Ethan Bredlow, looking for a job. I can come back later.”
He stood awkwardly on first one foot and then the other, twirling his hat in his hand, a shy smile of embarrassment on his
face as he looked from Ralph to Jesse.
It was hard for Jesse not to return his smile. He had a pleasant face, a headful of curly blond hair and sky-blue eyes that
were plainly admiring as she passed him on her way to the door.
“No need. I was leaving anyway.” He sprang to open the door for her. “Thank you,” she said as she stepped out onto the boardwalk.
Ethan Bredlow closed the door behind Jesse and turned to Ralph. His expression was quiet and serious, far different from the
one he had worn when he had entered the newspaper office.
“Ralph Marsh?”
Ralph nodded. “What did you say your name was?”
“Ethan Bredlow. I would like to speak to you in private.”
“It’s private here.”
“Someone may walk in on us. Do you have an office?”
“What’s this all about?”
Bredlow handed him a card. Ralph studied it and looked the man in the eye when he returned it. “This way.”
Seated at his desk with the door ajar so that he could hear the bell if someone came in, Ralph motioned the stranger to a
chair.
“How did you get my name?”
“I was told to contact you if I should need help.”
“But it’s been so long—”
“Your records are on file. Once an agent, always an agent.”
“What do you want from me?”
“A job. I hear your printer’s devil left you. I need a reason to stay around for a while.”
“The only job I can give you is sorting type.”
“I’ll do it.”
They were silent while each studied the other. Finally, Ralph said, “I can’t imagine the Bureau being interested in a degenerate
who likes to look at naked women.”
“They’re not.”
“Then I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what you’re working on.”
“You suppose right. Who was the young lady who just left?”
“Jesse Forbes. She’s a nurse. Her father is Dr. Forbes.”
“That’s what I thought. Nice-looking woman. How come she’s not married?”
“How in the hell would I know?”
“I need to know as much about people as I can. Any new arrivals in town beside me?”
“None that comes to mind. People come and go.”
“I hear the doctor has a new housekeeper.”
“Friend of the family. Knew his wife long ago.”
“Hmmm… How about the teacher, Pauline Anthony? Know her?”
“Of course, I know her. It would be hard not to in a town this size.”
“I take it she’s friends with the nurse.”
Ralph was suddenly irritated with the whole situation. “Pauline Anthony is a damn nice woman. So is Miss Jesse. She just spent
a week in the hill country taking care of sick kids. She just might have been paid a sack of potatoes and a crock of lard
for her trouble.” He stood and tossed a greasy apron at the man who sat calmly in the chair. “I’ve got three pages of print
to knock down. Are you working or just pretending to work?”
Ethan caught the apron. “I’m working.”
“S
tay here this summer? I’ve made plans to go home. As a matter of fact, Jess, I’m going to look for another teaching job.”
Jesse’s mouth fell open in shock. “Pauline! You don’t mean it. You’ve always said you like it here.”
Pauline continued to wash the blackboard as if she had only seconds to clean it. When she finished, she dropped the rag in
the bucket beside the door, took the erasers to the open window and clapped them together to shake out the chalk dust.
“I did—at first. Now I need a change.” She smiled a smile that did not reach her eyes, which Jesse suddenly realized were
sad. “Maybe I’m homesick.”
“You’ve not been homesick before. Didn’t you tell me that since your mother remarried—”
“—Oh, yes, I told you that, but—” Her words trailed and the sadness in her eyes intensified.
Jesse watched intently, wondering at the tremor around her friend’s mouth and why she was so nervous and kept glancing at
the door as if she expected someone to come barging in.
“What’s happened? You’re not the Pauline I saw last week. Is Mr. Harper causing trouble here at the school again?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Oh, Jess—” Tears filled her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks. She came around the desk, crying like a child, her shoulders
shaking. Jesse held her while she sobbed on her smoothly ironed white shirtwaist.
Pauline had been trying to keep out of her mind the man who had stripped her naked and invaded her body. But he was there
all the time, buried in her subconscious like a wart she could not help rubbing. Thinking about him made her sick—sick and
scared. In a twisted way, he knew more about her body than any person alive, had seen more than she had seen herself. The
thought made her stomach tighten as though someone had hit her there with a clenched fist.
The awful part was that he might be someone she knew. She hadn’t seen his face or heard him speak in a natural tone of voice.
Perhaps he had seen her in the street. How could she ever recognize him when all she could remember was the feel of his hands
on her body and his heavy breathing when he looked at her private parts? Why had he wanted to hurt, humiliate and degrade
her?
“What in the world could put you in such a state?” Jesse dug a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket.
“I’m sorry.” Pauline averted her head and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said again after she cleared her throat.
“Don’t apologize. What are friends for if not to share their troubles? As a matter of fact, I was about to unburden myself
on you. Please tell me what’s upset you.”
Pauline’s eyes followed the crack in the blackboard made when the end had come loose from the wall and fallen to the floor.
A sudden anger mingled with the pain and humiliation that stirred inside her, boiling up until she thought she would choke.
Holding the handkerchief to her nose, she blew vigorously, then turned back to Jesse.
“It… was… it was…
him!”
she said, trying to hold back the sobs.
“Him?” Jesse’s face reflected her bafflement.
“The… Looker.”