Sing a Song of Murder: Based on a True Story

By Lori L Roberts

In 1903, Sarah Schafer arrived in Bedford, Indiana, eager to begin a fresh chapter in her life with a new position as a Latin teacher at Bedford High School. Her excitement is soon replaced with fear when it becomes apparent someone wants Sarah out of town-and will use whatever means necessary to make her leave. A secret shared between Sarah and

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crecelius Haus Publishing
• Release date: Dec 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781737059738

Lori L Roberts

Lori Roberts is an educator, historian, author, and presenter for historical events and workshops. She has been an educator for twenty-eight years. Currently, Lori teaches United States History at the Junior High level. She presents the personas of Mrs. General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson ( Mary Anna Morrison Jackson), as well as Corrie Ten Boom, Concentration Camp survivor, the first First Lady of Indiana, Ann Gilmore Hay Jennings, and the persona of Lady Martha Washington. Lori is an author of historical fiction and paranormal/mystery. Lost Letters and Willow are available through major booksellers in both the United States and abroad and through Warren Publishing Company. Cries in the Night, A Lowcountry Ghost Story, is book 1 in the Lowcountry Ghost Trilogy. Where the Sweetgrass Grows, is another paranormal novel, and book 2 in the trilogy. Lori's newest book, This Dark and Bloody Ground, was released on September 1st, 2019, and is book 1 in the American Frontier Series. Lori's books are also available through her website, www.loriroberts.com, Amazon, and various booksellers in the United States and abroad. Lori lives in rural southern Indiana with her husband. She has three grown children and nine grandchildren.

Book preview

Chapter 1

August 26, 1903

She chose a seat in the middle of the train where other young professionals sat. Spirited conversations floated in and out of her thoughts. The memory of the tearful goodbye at the station snaked into her consciousness. Her new teaching position in the small but growing southern Indiana town of Bedford had been a source of excitement for her but overwhelming anxiety for her parents.

She pulled the shade and adjusted her thoughts to the items inside the carpetbag on the seat beside her. She smiled at the memory of her grandmother, Liesel Schafer, who presented the bag at her graduation from the Normal College in Danville the previous May.

Liesel Schafer came to America in 1835 with her young husband, Jacob, to escape hardships in the Hesse region of Germany. The couple found their way to Chicago but soon traveled to Indiana, where they settled.

After Liesel’s husband died from a heart attack, she sold her home and moved in with Sarah’s parents. Sarah’s father, John, had always been Liesel’s favorite. At the time, Sarah was a toddler. Sarah couldn’t remember when Oma wasn’t sleeping in the room down the hall from her and her sister, Jennie.

Liesel didn’t understand her granddaughter’s desire to spread her wings and leave the town where her family and Ira lived. Sarah felt the familiar feelings of claustrophobia and defiance when she remembered their last evening together. She unknowingly twisted the 18ct gold opal and diamond ring on her finger. Catching herself, Sarah pulled the carpet bag toward her and took out the small book her brother, Milton, had given her on his last visit home. The First Latin Book, by Collar and Daniell, would be a treasured addition to her small library of teaching tools. Another book, Latin Composition Based on Caesar and Cicero, was the book she used in her former teaching position at the high school in Elkhart, Indiana.

She moved the books aside and opened the small paper bag her mother had given her. The cinnamon strudel’s aroma filled the small space and made Sarah’s mouth water at the thought of its delicious taste. Unable to stave off the temptation, she took a bite. Sarah’s mother made cinnamon strudel’s every year at Christmas. They were Sarah’s favorite holiday treat. Considering Sarah wouldn’t be home until the holidays, her mother made a special batch for Sarah to have on the train ride and after she settled in at the Nicholsons.

She thought of her father’s gift, now hidden away inside a small wooden box where she kept her jewelry.

He put in her hand $200, neatly folded and held together with a sterling silver money clip with the letter S engraved on the front. Sarah thanked her father for the generous gift. She was grateful for his thinking about her living expenses before she earned her first month’s pay. She put her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.

Thank you, Father, she whispered in his ear.

This was your Opa Schafer’s, he said, kissing Sarah’s hand. Sarah wished she’d known her grandfather, but he died before Sarah was old enough to remember him.

She took another bite of strudel. The grumbling of her stomach finally stopped after eating the last bite. She started to lick the sugary goodness from her finger but remembered her manners and reached for her handkerchief inside her bag.

Her heart fluttered thinking of the adventure awaiting her. In two weeks, she’d begin a new school year.

Teaching in Bedford would be her first experience living away from her parent’s home or college dormitory. She’d also keep her room at one residence and take her meals in another.

She took out the small slip of paper where the name and address of Dr. David Nicholson, 1207 O Street, Bedford, Indiana, were neatly written in Sarah’s impeccable cursive script. Her enthusiasm for the new beginning caused her feelings during the last week at home to become another memory tucked away like keepsakes in her parents’ attic. The Nicholsons home is where she would be rooming, and she was nervous about meeting them. She had also written another name on the paper: Mrs. Martha Johnson, Bedford. Mrs. Johnson ran one of the town’s favorite boarding houses, and Sarah would take her meals there. Sarah had many choices about where she kept her room and where she would get her meals.

She lifted the shade to see the landscape had changed from flat land to rolling hills and farmland. She remembered the train ride down to Bedford with her brother in July. She thought then how pretty the scenery was that day riding into southern Indiana. When the conductor passed through her car, he’d said Bloomington would be the next stop. Several young men and women were students at Indiana University and returning to their classes. After a brief delay and more passengers taking their seats, the train pulled out of the station and headed south to Bedford. With all the commotion of moving in, she’d not had time to think of her last night in Elkhart.

Oma came to speak with her before she turned in for the night. Her words sounded ominous as she listed all the evils that could befall a pretty, single girl like Sarah. Oma spoke to Sarah about Ira on their last night together. Her heavy German accent was soft but direct. Enkelin, I know you have been carrying a secret about young Mr. Church.

Her deep-set eyes held Sarah’s gaze. You mustn’t confuse your new-found independence for security and love.

Enkelin, German for granddaughter, was what Liesel had always called Sarah and Jennie.

The revelation by Liesel took Sarah aback. There was no point denying the truth to her. Oma, I don’t think I love Ira. At least not in that way. Sarah’s voice was almost a whisper. I told him I would marry him because I. The words wouldn’t come out.

Because you were pressured? Liesel asked, her eyebrows arched above her dark eyes.

Sarah chose her words carefully, No, not exactly. I mean, yes, I felt pressured to accept his proposal at the time, she said.

Liesel moved closer to Sarah. What is it, Enkelin? Her reassuring voice prompted Sarah to finish.

Oma, I thought I would not see him again. At that moment, I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I loved him at the time.

And he survived to come back to you and your heart wasn’t there for him.

Yes, Sarah said, her burden lifted. Liesel knew all of Sarah’s secrets-how she knew them; Sarah wasn’t sure, but Liesel kept them to herself. For now, Sarah could keep her secret from the rest of her family. But for how long Sarah wasn’t sure.

To Sarah, this job in a new town offered the adventure she craved and would otherwise miss if she remained in Elkhart. The thought of that turned her thoughts to the ring on her finger. How had she gotten into such a mess? She’d not let the last evening with Ira ruin her happiness. His words still echoed in her mind, no matter how she tried to block them.

Sarah, you can’t leave without me speaking to your father. Why do you want to take on another teaching position? You wouldn’t have to work another day in your life if you’d stay and marry me over the Christmas holiday.

Sarah’s fists clenched at her sides. Why did men assume marriage was so wonderful? It was for the man, Sarah thought. She would have to give up everything. How she wished she could take it all back. She liked how things were before their graduation from high school.

She was his girl, he was her beau, off to fight in the Spanish- American War after their high school graduation in May. She had plans to attend the Central Normal College and he had enrolled in Indiana University to study law. Then came the sinking of the E, Indiana Infantry.

Before he mustered out to Florida, he gave Sarah a ring. It had belonged to his mother. Ira told Sarah he would buy her an official ring after he returned and spoke to her father. She agreed. Until that time, it was their secret. It happened so suddenly she didn’t have time to think about it. They were eighteen and everything changed. She’d made a schoolgirl’s promise on the night of her graduation from high school. She didn’t know how different she would feel. The secret engagement was about to come to light if Ira got his way. She would have to continue to stall his speaking to her father. It worked for the time they were both at college and pursuing their respective degrees.

Both were twenty-two. Ira recently graduated from college and had taken a position in his father’s law practice. Recently, he became the captain of the Home Guard Militia unit. More an honorary title, the war veteran accepted the position.

Ira also had political aspirations. In addition to his other responsibilities, Ira was elected in 1902 as the youngest city councilman in Elkhart’s history. His life had become more settled, and marriage seemed the next step. She contemplated the predicament in which she’d placed herself.

How he’d agreed to remain silent about the secret engagement was a mystery to Sarah, but she was thankful, nonetheless. Sarah had asked that they continue the relationship as it was until they each graduated from college. He reluctantly agreed, but now grew impatient being stalled for an added six months.

She blinked her eyes to erase the memory. The conductor called out the train station in Bedford was approaching. Sarah’s eyes scanned the depot as the train grinded to a halt, the sooty smoke passing over the roof of the train station. She didn’t see the school principal or school board president in the awaiting crowd.

Sarah took a deep breath and slowly released the air from her lungs. She gathered her things and walked to the front of the railcar. The conductor held his hand out.

Watch your step, Miss, he said, helping Sarah down the steps.

Sarah looked fetching dressed in a brown tweed traveling suit accented with green leather, the young teacher turned the heads of a group of college boys waiting to board the train back to Bloomington. Her thick brown tresses looked fashionable in the popular Gibson Girl style. Sarah’s brown and light tan velvet hat, with ribbons of darker brown and tan aigrette and forget-me- knots, accentuated her suit. She carried a medium-sized carpet bag in her brown kid leather gloved hand.

She looked at the faces of the people waiting along the wooden sidewalk between the depot and train tracks. No one looked familiar.

Chapter 2

Simpson B. Lowe, president of the Bedford Board of Education and former prosecuting attorney for Lawrence County, and Miss Arda Knox, principal of Bedford High School, waited in the cloistering heat of the Monon Train Station in Bedford, Indiana. He pulled his watch from his vest pocket and checked the time.

Simpson, forty years old, stood over six feet tall. His chestnut- colored hair was starting to show gray at his temples, and his thick mustache curled at the corners, the style younger men were wearing. He maintained good physical condition, evident in his suit pants and dress jacket. He took great care of his physical appearance; he was a handsome bachelor who attracted female attention.

He had graduated the top in his law class, something he often bragged about. He had recently moved from a smaller office on Twelfth Street to the more spacious two-story office and apartment he rented across from the Court House on Sixteenth Street.

He enjoyed practicing law in the growing town of Bedford, but his driving ambition caused Mr. Lowe to expect more, much more than a small-town lawyer. He saw himself as a congressman, or perhaps a state senator. There were men who promised to make this expectation a reality, but he would have to bide his time. He had even dreamed of becoming a member of President Theodore Roosevelt’s administration. Simpson Lowe was a man of great ambition. Simpson Lowe had connections.

A bachelor, Mr. Lowe was known for being somewhat of a lady’s man. He was a man’s man, involved in philanthropic causes as well as a few causes he kept private. He was known to have courted several women, but none caught his fancy enough to ask for their hand in marriage. In quiet conversations, idle talk suggested he even liked married women. Make no mistake, he was handsome, and he knew it.

Simpson Lowe was a traveling man. He visited abroad, seeing historic sites in Europe and an excursion to Egypt. He was well- read and conversed with professors and great legal minds alike. He was Bedford’s famed lawyer, assistant prosecuting attorney and school board president. He was well-known throughout the adjoining communities, having tried cases there. He also caught the attention of political members of the GAR, the veterans of the Civil War who were from the Northern states.

He had done his best to keep his public persona as clean as possible. Simpson took great pains in attending to anything that got in this way.

This morning, his thoughts trailed to the new Latin teacher. He remembered meeting the dark-haired beauty four weeks before. Sarah was tall, compared to her predecessor. The memory of Lillie Short took precedent in these thoughts. She taught Latin for five years at Bedford High School. During her tenure, several young men called on Lillie, but none ever captured her heart.

Simpson met Lillie after he was elected prosecutor. She accepted a teaching position at the high school, and he was a friend of her cousin, Bart Short.

Lillie Short and her family were rooted in Bedford society. Her father, a bank president, had his sights set on Lillie marrying the young law partner of Simpson Lowe, Olin Bundy.

Olin was quite a few years younger than his older partner. Having reached his thirty-second birthday, he had studied law since a lad. His early profession was working for the railroad in the West but returned to study law and begin his own practice. Seeing his youthful ambition and natural ability with the law, Simpson brought him into his practice to help the young man get settled in the area.

The two had words over an incident with a young woman. He’d overheard a telephone conversation between Simpson and someone else. Simpson vehemently denied any unsavory conduct and thought it best the two-part ways in their law practice. The two men remained friends, however. Olin knew Simpson’s brilliant mind and knew he could offer his knowledge when called upon. With Simpson’s political aspirations, he kept his business dealings as private as one could. However, Bedford was a small town and Simpson had connections.

***

He dabbed his forehead with his pressed handkerchief and looked over at Miss Knox, her attention on the newspaper she was reading. He adjusted his trousers. He studied her at length. Arda Knox, thirty-one and unmarried, would begin her second year as principal. She taught mathematics for ten years before moving into the principal’s position. Arda wore her auburn hair, parted in the middle, and pulled into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. She appeared older than her years. She dressed modestly in a white shirtwaist and dark green wool skirt. The only jewelry she wore was a coral cameo fastened at the top of her collar. Arda stood straight as an arrow in her high-top black dress boots that pinched her toes. She held the corner of her starched handkerchief to her nose; the stench of body odor hung in the air.

Mr. Lowe, do you mind if we take Miss Schafer to her room after we get her things off the train? Arda asked, eager to welcome the new member of the staff.

I’m sure she would like to see her classroom. Did Mr. Hawkins get the floors varnished last week? He looked at his watch again.

Yes, and he painted her room. Miss Short left some of her supplies in the closet. I saw Miss Short’s mother yesterday and Miss Short came back home earlier in the week.

Is that so? Mr. Lowe tried to keep his surprise to himself. I was under the impression Miss Short settled into the new position in Oklahoma City." He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Miss Knox took out a small fan from her handbag and waved it back and forth in front of her face. Her father, Mr. Short, took ill earlier in the month and Miss Short wanted to make a visit before the school term begins in Oklahoma City.

Before he could reply, the train pulled into the station. Thankful for the diversion, Mr. Lowe held the door for her to pass through. The two waited for Sarah to disembark the train.

Mr. Lowe first spotted Sarah over the other travelers coming down the steps to the depot platform.

He saw her searching the crowd of travelers for a familiar face and called out to her.

Sarah Schafer met his eye, and he tipped his hat to acknowledge her. Miss Knox followed behind him to welcome the new teacher to Bedford.

Chapter 3

Sarah smiled as she saw Mr. Lowe and Miss Knox heading her way. She pulled the carpet bag over her shoulder and briskly walked toward the two. She suspected their wait in the noon heat must’ve been unbearable and didn’t want to keep them waiting any longer.

Miss Schafer, how lovely you look, Mr. Lowe said taking her hand in his.

Sarah’s fingers felt dainty inside her gloves as Mr. Lowe clasped his other hand over the top of hers. She blushed as the older man’s hands stayed an uncomfortable amount of time beyond what was considered proper.

It’s so good to see you and Miss Knox again, Sarah said I hope the time on the train passed quickly. You’ve traveled quite a distance today, Miss Knox said, her smile revealed the dimples in her cheeks.

Thank you. I’ve been looking over the Latin manuals I brought with me. Time wasn’t an issue at all.

Sarah tried not to stare at the school board president, but she couldn’t help herself. His tall frame stood erect in his striped, black suit coat and pants. He tugged at the white starched collar. The August heat hung like a wet blanket over Bedford on the hot, sultry afternoon.

Sarah also tried not to look at his perfect lips beneath the thick but impeccably trimmed mustache. He had to be at least thirty-five years old, she guessed. She blinked to stop her bad manners.

Would you like to see your new room today? Mr. Lowe repeated.

Caught in her momentary lapse of poor taste, she nodded, Yes, I would love to see it.

The trio made small talk as Mr. Lowe’s hired man loaded Sarah’s trunks onto a wagon. The man heaved first one trunk, then two more onto the buckboard with a loud thud. When he finished his task, he pulled the wagon away. The women, preoccupied, didn’t notice.

Ladies, if you’re ready, we can take my surrey to the school, Mr. Lowe announced.

Sarah looked over her shoulder for the porter to fetch her trunks. Shouldn’t we wait for my things?

I’ve already had my hired man take them to Dr. Nicholson’s house. You’ve nothing to worry about, Mr. Lowe said.

Sarah noticed his broad grin accentuated the cleft in his chin and the small dimple on his left cheek. She noticed as his hand grabbed the reins there was no wedding ring on his left hand.

***

The afternoon heat coupled with Sarah’s heavy traveling suit, kept the school visit short. She quickly surveyed the large classroom with rows of wooden desks facing the front of the room. A large wooden teacher’s desk sat in front of a massive green chalkboard. It spanned the length of the front wall. Above the board, a Regulator clock kept time, it’s ticking echoed in the otherwise quiet room. Two portraits flanked either side of the large clock, one of President Washington and the other, President Lincoln. To the side of the chalk board hung a large American flag. The forty-five stars bought new sometime after 1897, with the admission of Utah to the Union. Sarah felt the perspiration trickling down her neck and collecting inside her tight corset. She would come back tomorrow, earlier in the day, to explore.

Mr. Lowe unhitched the horse from the post under one of two large elm trees on the east side of the school. He helped first Miss Schafer, then Miss Knox into the two-seat surrey.

He turned the surrey around to travel across Sixteenth Street to 1207 O Street. The distance was a short block away. The heat of the day caused an illusion of the dirt street to resemble the ripples on a pond. Sarah and Miss Knox continued making idle chatter about the rise in temperature and how they wished for cooler weather.

Sarah, I believe you know one of the teachers at the West Side School, Mr. Lowe interjected.

Oh, yes, I meant to ask you about Miss Love when we stopped by school, Sarah said. Miss Love and I went to the Normal College at the same time and lived in the same dormitory.

She also takes her meals at Mrs. Johnson’s, Miss Knox said. She also boarded at Mrs. Johnson’s.

Mr. Lowe pulled the surrey into a small, graveled area. He slipped the reins around the hitching post two times. That will do.

He helped Miss Knox out of the surrey first, then Sarah accepted his hand as she stepped onto the gravel. She straightened her skirt and adjusted her shirtwaist. They walked up to the porch, and Simpson rang the bell. An older man opened the door.

Doctor Nicholson, good afternoon, Mr. Lowe said, moving aside to allow him to see Sarah. I’ve brought Miss Schafer.

Come in. Dr. Nicholson held the door as Mr. Lowe, Miss Knox and Sarah entered the entry hall of the modest two-story home. His white hair led Sarah to believe he was much older than her father, but Dr. Nicholson’s hair turned grey after returning from the Battle of Franklin in 1864. David Nicholson and his wife, Carrie, were lifelong residents of Lawrence County. Both were sixty-five years old, and neither stood over five feet, five inches in height. Sarah towered over them both at five feet, seven inches.

Good afternoon, I’m pleased to meet you both, Sarah said, extending her hand to Dr. and Mrs. Nicholson.

After the introductions, Mrs. Nicholson, a petite woman with piercing blue eyes and a fair complexion, ushered everyone into the parlor, where she had a tray of freshly made sugar cookies.

I’m sure you’re starving. Mr. Lowe, Miss Knox, you’re welcome to stay if you’d like.

Thank you, Mrs. Nicholson. I believe I’ll take you up on your offer another time. I’m sure Miss Schafer has unpacking to do, he said.

Mr. Lowe was eager to get back to his office, where he had more pressing matters waiting for him.

Thank you, Mrs. Nicholson, Miss Knox said. I promised Miss Friedley I would bring her new textbook by this afternoon. "Some other time then. Thank you for fetching Miss Schafer.

David has been down with his rheumatism all day," Mrs. Nicholson said as she walked them to the door.

Mr. Lowe turned, I hope you’re back to good health soon, Dr. Nicholson. Miss Schafer, I’ll check back on you this week. Have a good evening.

I shall, Sarah said in her usual spirited tone. I enjoyed our time together and thank you again for the tour of the school.

Sarah watched Mr. Lowe and Miss Knox drive away. She wondered if the two were an item. He certainly was handsome, and she was nice-looking.

***

Sarah spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking her trunks. The upstairs offered privacy and enough space to entertain guests. The Nicholsons had two sons-both living in Bedford with their own families. Sarah was excited to have both of their bedrooms upstairs for her use.

***

After she finished putting her things in the wardrobe and small bedroom closet, Mrs. Nicholson came upstairs to see if she needed anything.

Miss Schafer, is there anything I can do to help you get settled in?

Thank you, Mrs. Nicholson. I appreciate the extra room for meeting with my students or guests. Sarah expected students who would need additional study with their Latin.

Mrs. Nicholson noticed a photograph displayed on the writing desk. A family sat under a large tree in their Sunday best. The young ladies wore white dresses with white patent leather boots. The youngest girl wore a large bow to match her dress in a similar design but for a younger age. A tall young man stood in the middle of the ladies. The parents and an older woman sat in three high-back wooden chairs. The women both wore dark dresses with high collars, and neither smiled. The gentlemen wore white tab collared shirts with dark slacks and dark dress coats. The younger man of the two wore a straw hat with a dark band around it.

Are these your parents and siblings? she asked. She picked Sarah at once from the women.

Yes, she said, pointing to each face as she told their names. This is my older sister, Edna. Her wedding was the following day.

She’s a pretty girl, Mrs. Nicholson replied.

The younger girl is my sister, Jennie. My brother, Milton, married the next month. She lovingly touched the photograph as she told of the three in the chairs. This is my mother, Elizabeth, and father, John. The other is my grandmother, Liesel. Sarah’s face showed a resemblance to hers. We call her Oma.

It’s a nice photograph. I wish Dr. Nicholson and I would sit for a photograph with our sons and their wives. Do either of your siblings have children? she asked.

No, not yet. Milton is a traveling man for a shirtwaist company outside of Elkhart. My sister, Edna, lives in Chicago. Mrs. Nicholson put her hand on Sarah’s, I hope you will find our home a place where you will feel welcome. You may have visitors, but we ask that you entertain male guests in the parlor downstairs.

Sarah understood her behavior reflected on the Nicholsons as she lived in their home. Yes, ma’am. Thank you.

I made plenty for supper this evening. I didn’t expect you’d be going to Mrs. Johnson’s after you just arrived today.

That’s very kind of you, thank you. Sarah hadn’t had dinner and her growling stomach must’ve cued Mrs. Nicholson to offer. After we finish our meal, if you have any Edison records, you’re welcome to play them on the phonograph in the parlor.

Sarah was excited about Mrs. Nicholson’s phonograph. Her sister reminded her to bring her favorite records if the Nicholsons had one. She often sang or hummed the songs as she listened. At the Normal College, students teased her for her habit of singing as she walked to class. It didn’t seem to bother Sarah; she loved to sing and often had a melody on her mind.

The upright piano in the Schafer’s parlor came with Liesel Schafer when she moved in with her son and daughter-in-law. Sarah would lay on the rug beside Oma and listen to her play Beethoven and Bach. She taught Sarah to play when she was five years old. It wasn’t long before Sarah was playing and singing at home and at church. She inherited her singing voice and love of music from her.

***

After the meal, Sarah helped clean the dishes and put them away. She shared that her previous teaching experience was in Elkhart at the high school. She told about her bosom group, as people knew the sorority members at college. Cecile White and Bess Campbell, she explained, often wrote her daily news of life in Terre Haute. Sarah also wrote letters, a regular ritual she began in her first year of college. Sarah and her mother corresponded daily, often receiving two letters when the mail slowed. She also received regular mail from Edna in Chicago.

Their conversation remained pleasant and light-hearted. Doctor Nicholson sat in the leather reclining chair, sleeping. The women’s chatter in the kitchen didn’t wake him from his nap.

When they finished the kitchen duties, Mrs. Nicholson and Sarah retired to the parlor. The afternoon sounds of a mourning dove calling its mate came through the open windows.

Sarah sat on the end of the tiny floral printed davenport in the parlor, reading her newest copy of The Delineator, a popular woman’s magazine. She purchased a new edition each month and read it cover to cover. She turned the pages, admiring the latest styles in millinery fashion for fall.

Mrs. Nicholson, can you recommend a good milliner and dressmaker in town?

She raised her head from her Bible, Yes, Mrs. Moriarty has the latest fashions, and Mrs. Creighton is who most of the young ladies chose for their tailor. Both are on the square.

She poked her husband with the toe of her boot. David, are you going with me to prayer meeting?

Her husband stirred, his eyes fluttering to open. Oh, is it time already? His after-supper nap cut short, he folded the newspaper on his lap and went to the hall mirror to comb through his disheveled hair.

Mrs. Nicholson closed her Bible and turned, Sarah, you’re welcome to join us; we’re members of the Methodist Church. I remember you said you were a member at the Methodist Church in Elkhart.

Yes, I am. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll rest this evening. I will join you this Sunday; thank you.

Sarah was alone for the first time since she arrived in Bedford. The heavy dark green draperies pulled open, exposed the filmy sheers covering the windows. A gentle breeze carried the curtains away from the window now and then, and the scent of the last of Mrs. Nicholson’s roses hung in the air.

She pulled her writing tablet and ink from her bag and set about writing her letters to her mother, sister Edna, and Cecile.

Chapter 4

Eva Love sat with her legs extended onto an over-sized ottoman in Addie Smith’s living room. A plate with cookies sat on the end table beside her. The temperature on the thermometer outside had already reached ninety degrees. The afternoon sun shone in the rear of the house, keeping the parlor, in the front of the house, in shade. Two large trees on either side of the house kept the front rooms cooler, including Eva’s bedroom.

Mrs. Smith and her son were both at work, leaving Eva to herself for the day. She had pulled her waist-length golden hair into a loose coiffure atop her head. The humidity caused stray tendrils to curl around her face.

Eva was twenty-three years old. She had been born in the nearby town of Mitchell in 1879 and had been teaching in the Bedford schools for four years. Her first position was at a one- room schoolhouse in Heltonville, some ten miles away, kept her on the outskirts of town. She roomed with the Patton’s, an older couple who wanted help with their chores. Eva stayed for one year, having to clean the schoolhouse and make sure there was a fire going in the wood stove each morning. In addition to those responsibilities, she had the task of cleaning the school after the students left in the afternoon.

After she completed her work at school and graded assignments, she came home to help with Mrs. Patton’s list of chores of an evening.

During the winter, Eva slipped on an ice-covered step as she entered the school one snowy morning. The fall caused her to be home for several days with an injury. She sought treatment from Dr. James B. Duncan, a physician in Bedford.

The following year a position at the West Side School next to the high school became available. Eva took the sixth-grade position and moved into Addie Smith’s home. This school year will begin her third year of teaching at the West Side School.

She took a magazine from the end table and fanned back and forth to move air, albeit warm to her face. The large mantle clock struck five o’clock. The new teacher will be arriving today. She remembered Sarah Schafer from her time at Central Normal College. The two women met at a sorority function. Sarah had a close group of friends that she associated with, bosom buddies, or something to that effect, Eva mused. She liked Sarah, but the two were nothing more than acquaintances. She hoped the two could become closer now that she would be teaching in the building next to hers.

Anyone would be an improvement to the last Latin teacher, she thought. Lillie Short, hired the year before Eva, taught Latin at the high school. The two disliked one another from their first meeting at Mrs. Lillian Goetz’s boarding house. Eva wasn’t good enough to sit with Lillie and her table of Bedford socialites: Miss Stella Deckard, Miss Emma East, and Miss Pearl Brown. It was Lillie who teased Eva about her beau, Jack Nicholson, a momma’s boy who would never marry the likes of Eva Love.

Eva swatted a fat fly that landed next to her. She imagined it was Lillie Short. She missed, but the fly took flight, much like Lillie Short.

She made herself get up and walk to the kitchen, wash off the plate and pour a glass of water from the icebox.

She drank slowly, enjoying the feeling of the cool liquid as it reached her stomach. She thought of taking a quick bath and washing her hair. She would be meeting someone later and wanted to look her best. She would have to hurry if she was going to have supper at Mrs. Johnson’s at six. She would call on Miss Schafer tomorrow, after she had time to settle in with the Nicholsons. It’s too bad, she thought, Sarah couldn’t have roomed at Mrs. Smith’s instead.

Chapter 5

Mr. Lowe returned to his office and found Mrs. Ada Carmichael working on a summons he’d left on her desk before leaving to pick up Miss Schafer. Mrs. Carmichael was in her late sixties and had been Mr. Lowe’s personal secretary for the past ten years. Ada was a life-long friend of Simpson’s mother, and she was one of the few who addressed him as Simpson instead of the more formal, Mr. Lowe. Mrs. Carmichael was trustworthy and hard-working. She was one of the few women he truly admired.

Mrs. Carmichael, I have some work to do in my office. If you need me to read over what you’ve finished, I can look it over before I go out later this evening.

She smiled. I should be finished in an hour or so. She went back to work as Simpson took the steps to his private quarters two at a time.

Once upstairs, he went into his office and opened the bottom desk drawer which he kept locked. Inside was a collection of bank notes, titles to property he owned, and correspondence from various people in town. In the back of the drawer was a false compartment where he kept a small cash box, also locked. He opened the cash box and withdrew a roll of bills, shoving it into his trouser pocket. He went to the credenza against the wall and poured a shot of scotch. Before he could take a drink, he noticed a familiar face walking along the square. Mrs. Bessie Evans, the younger wife of the former mayor, Charles Evans, walking with her small terrier.

Mr. Lowe once had a relationship with her, while her husband was fighting in the Spanish-American War. It was a one-time affair, quite regrettable on her part. He agreed to never speak of the matter, for a price. She sold a house in town for an astonishingly low price to Mr. Lowe after her husband returned from the war. The property was part of her deceased first husband’s estate she had inherited after his death from the typhoid outbreak two years into the marriage.

Mrs. Evans and Mr. Lowe rarely spoke to one another, and Mr. Lowe kept his part of the bargain.

His thoughts of Bessie Evans ended when the bell to the back entrance rang. He let the curtain close as he walked away to see who was at the back entrance to his office.

In the darkness stood his hired man, cap pulled low on his head to obstruct his identity. Mr. Lowe stifled the urge to curse.

What are you doing here at this hour? You know the arrangement…after dark, George. He peered outside before grabbing George by his arm and closing the door.

I didn’t figure anyone was watchin.’ I did what you asked. George rubbed the stubble on his chin. His clothes smelled of smoke and unwashed body.

Mr. Lowe didn’t want him in his quarters any longer than necessary. Stay here.

He went over to a small closet opposite his desk and opened a wooden crate. Inside were pints of whiskey that he kept on hand as payment to some of his underhanded employees. When he returned, he had the whiskey and the roll of bills inside a small knapsack. Here, he said, handing the bag to George. Keep it close to you and don’t get caught with it on the public square. Try to make it home before you start drinking.

George peeked inside the bag, noticing the bottle and the roll of bills. He didn’t take the time to count it, as his need for the whiskey outweighed his need for the cash.

All right then, I’ll be going. You know where to find me if you need anything. George wasted no time leaving Mr. Lowe’s office.

Simpson watched him from the partially closed door as he hurried across the alley to an awaiting horse and wagon. Odds are he stole that horse and the wagon. He caught sight of the seamstress, Susannah Ireland, watching the scene from her upstairs window. She had a clear view of the back side of Simpson Lowe’s business from her work room. Mrs. Ireland knew of the comings and goings of most of Mr. Lowe’s back entrance visitors.

Damn my luck. He would have to be more careful. He closed the door and went inside to prepare for another meeting later in the evening. Mrs. Carmichael looked up from the file cabinet. She heard the back door to Simpson’s private quarters shut. She walked to rear of the office in time to see one of Simpson’s hired men driving off in a buckboard wagon. She shook her head and went back to the file cabinet where she would finish the work for the day. She put the summons on Simpson’s desk in the small office behind her desk. He probably wouldn’t make any changes to her work, he rarely did. She grabbed her bag and umbrella from the hook on the wall.

She called up to Mr. Lowe, I’m leaving, Simpson. Is there anything else you need?

Hearing Mrs. Carmichael, he answered, "No, thank you,

Mrs. Carmichael. I’ll see you tomorrow morning."

Chapter 6

Sarah rose at five-thirty on Friday. The day’s agenda started with walking to her boarding house for breakfast at six-thirty. She would have all her meals at Mrs. Martha Johnson’s boarding house on Fifteenth Street, two blocks away.

The humidity of southern Indiana took Sarah by surprise. Living in one of the furthest towns north, Elkhart stayed cool due to its proximity to the Great Lakes. The Ohio Valley was notorious for trapping the humidity causing the air to feel heavy and damp.

Her neatly pinned locks started to curl at the nape of her neck. She reached under her hat to adjust the curly tendrils as she continued her walk to breakfast.

She reached Mrs. Johnson’s as the breakfast crowd gathered on the porch before going inside. Breakfast was served promptly at six-thirty; dinner at noon, and supper at six o’clock.

As she reached the steps, she heard someone call her name.

Sarah Schafer, is that you? A voice coming from the direction of Lincoln Street caught her attention.

Sarah turned to see Eva Love, her university acquaintance, grinning from ear to ear.

Eva, I’m glad you’re taking your meals here too, Sarah exclaimed, embracing Eva. Where are you rooming?

I heard you were coming but didn’t want to impose on you last night. I room at Mrs. Smith’s over on Thirteenth Street.

I’m staying with Dr. and Mrs. Nicholson on O Street. They seem genuinely nice.

Eva started to comment but changed the subject. Looks like everyone is going inside. Let’s hurry inside to get a good table.

Eva led Sarah into the parlor where her regular table mates were seated. Two seats were left at the table of eight. Most of the tables seated four, while there was one large table that seated eight. Eva scanned the table to introduce Sarah to the group.

I didn’t realize such a crowd had meals with Mrs. Johnson, Sarah said, gazing around the room at the eclectic crowd gathered for breakfast.

It’s like this most meals, Eva waited for a break in conversation before introducing Sarah. Everyone, I’d like you to meet Sarah Schafer. She’ll be the new Latin teacher this term.

Sarah smiled and made eye contact with each person as she tried to make mental notes for their names and faces.

It’s nice to make your acquaintances, may I join you? she asked.

They rearranged the chairs to allow Eva and Sarah room to sit, while the conversations started again. Those sitting at the table from Sarah’s left were Alis Louder, English teacher at the high school. Sarah noticed he had kind eyes, they reminded her of her father’s. Alis was attractive, in his twenties, and single. He wore his chestnut brown hair cut short and combed back with hair cream, another fashion of the day. Clara Friedley, Social Studies, sat next to him. She was older than Sarah by two years and single. She and Alis had been an item at one time, however the school board thought it best teachers of the opposite sex does not fraternize while employed with Bedford Schools. Clara and Alis remained close friends. Sarah hoped to get better acquainted with them both, since their classrooms were near hers. Captain John Alexander, Civil War veteran and retired attorney sat across the table. In his early seventies, Captain Alexander was old enough to be Sarah’s grandfather,