A few early snow flakes was startin’ to lazily drift down that mid-November day when the Strickler kid ran into the store shoutin’ somethin’ about a body out at the mine. The mine had closed down the week before, just like everybody was afraid would happen, and I reckon the kid had been playin’ around where he ought not to have been out at the mines while nobody was around.
Well, he sure got everybody’s attention in nothin’ flat. Chairs hit the floor, coats were thrown on, and men, and even a couple of women who didn’t have kids with ’em took off runnin’ for the mine. I went, too, although Mam and several other women stayed behind, and their buzz of anticipation followed us out the door.
It was cold, and the clouds had already covered the mountain, which usually means the snow might amount to somethin’. It was at least a half mile to the mine, and we were all puffin’ clouds of white smoke by the time we arrived at the mine entrance, and stopped and looked where the Strickler kid was pointin.’ Sure enough, he wasn’t lyin’; just inside the entrance to the mine in the shadows we could make out the kinda crumpled-up shape of a body. Ole Man Kline took the lead, goin’ in slowly, while Big Al, he held out his arms, holdin’ everybody else back. We could see Kline bendin’ down, and then he hollered for somebody to go rouse the sherriff at Athlone, the nearest town, ’cause this feller was dead.
And it turned out he didn’t die of natural causes either. He had a big old bullet hole right in the middle of his chest, right where that fist-sized nugget of silver had been layin’ the last time we saw him. The silver was gone, too, just the twisted and broken leather strap lay around his neck. It woulda taken some strength to’ve torn that leather strap, folks said. Nobody admitted to knowin’ anything about the affair, or knowin’ who this feller was either.
I heard some people whisperin’ about that Suze-woman, tho’. We hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her since she came by the store that first time. Seemed mighty coincidental, two strangers comin’ into town in one week, and one of ’em gettin himself killed. And the women especially thought she looked kinda suspicious-like.
Murder was big here. We hadn’t had one since Tom Jameson hauled off and killed his pa when his pa came after him with a meat hook at a butcherin’ one day. And Tom, he was just sent off to the state hospital ’cause folks just figured he wasn’t right in the head. So as I say, murder was big. And everybody was a’speculatin’ this and a’speculatin’ that. But the general consensus had to be we didn’t know nothin.’
So imagine our surprise when the week after the murder, who should come walkin’ in the door again but Suze Campbell. You coulda heard that pin drop again. And Grandpap Ed, he was a little slower gettin’ to the post office counter this time, kinda hesitant-like. I reckon he was thinkin’ he could possibly be dealin’ with a murderer here. And Mam, she look mighty interested.
Suze, on the other hand, she looked kinda surprised, kinda raisin’ her eyebrows like she had a question, but Grandpap Ed, he just shoved her letter, a thick one, across the counter at her. And as she took it, she turned around slow-like and swept the room a glance. Most folks just dropped their eyes to the floor. Except for me. I was gettin’ one of my feelins’ again, and I knew this time we couldn’t let her get away without findin’ out . . . I don’t know . . . Findin’ out somethin’.