Free Horse With No Name by Alexandra Amor Page B

on the wagon with me, rather than making them walk." He
always called Julia “Mrs.” and she never corrected him. She
suspected it made him feel more comfortable chatting with her if
they both pretended she was married.
    Harry waved at his father.
    "That's fine, Mr. Hewitt. We're about
finished for the day." Julia made sure the older children
understood their reading assignment for the night and then
dismissed the group.
    Mr. Hewitt stepped into the classroom to get
out of the way of the multi-limbed monster that had now crowded
around the coat hooks. He grinned at Julia. "I don't know how you
do it all day with these ruffians. One is by far too much for me
and Mrs. Hewitt to manage."
    "Oh, they're no trouble at all, Mr. Hewitt."
Julia said, which was not entirely true.
    Mr. Hewitt was a slight man and didn't look
like someone suited to farming life at all. He looked like he'd be
much more comfortable working in a bank or a fine hotel. He was
wiry, like a sapling, and not very tall. His complexion always
looked red and raw, even when he wasn't blushing. He had dark
circles under his eyes, but Julia wasn't sure if that was from
exhaustion or just the natural state of the thin skin there. He was
a jolly man though, quick to laugh and always kind with his
words.
    The children evaporated, leaving just the two
boys waiting for Mr. Hewitt. The man was in no rush to leave,
though. He usually took the opportunity to chat to Julia, starved,
perhaps, for town gossip and interaction with an adult other than
his wife.
    Julia always obliged with whatever tidbits
she had that wouldn't cause offense should they get back to the
person who they were about. Today she shared that the fundraising
for the church was going well and Pastor Thoreson thought they
would probably be able to break ground in the spring.
    "The town is growing at quite a pace, isn't
it? If we can have a church and this schoolhouse."
    "Very true, Mr. Hewitt."
    News gratefully received, Mr. Hewitt made
motions to leave. "Come on, boys. Let's get a move on and let Mrs.
Thom get on with her day."
    As Mr. Hewitt herded the boys down the steps,
Julia walked with him. He was halfway down the staircase when he
turned and said, "I was very sorry to hear about Mr. Hunter. That
was just terrible."
    "Wasn't it? Shocking."
    Hewitt shook his head, rolling his soft cap
in his hands. "He's a good man, Hunter. Quiet. Keeps to himself.
But he's always polite and friendly. I like the man."
    "I do too, Mr. Hewitt."
    "I understand you found him?"
    Julia nodded. "I did. He was not in a good
way."
    "He's on the mend now though?"
    "Yes. He's doing well. Betty Mitchell and I
popped in this morning to see how he was doing. He's nervous about
getting fat on all the bread and scones Betty is feeding him."
    Hewitt grinned. "He could use a bit more meat
on his bones, that man. He's a wee little thing, isn't he?" Julia
thought this was amusing coming from the reed-thin Mr. Hewitt. But
she made agreeing noises.
    On the street, Julia saw Harry and Peter
climb onto the front seat of Mr. Hewitt's wagon. The man in front
of her put his hat on and walked down two more steps. He called
over his shoulder, "He'll be missed at the poker game, that's for
sure. He always had enough cash, and he's a terrible player."
Hewitt chuckled. "I won't be there, but they'll miss him
tonight."
    "Poker game?" Julia asked, "I thought
gambling was illegal."
    "Aye it is. But don't tell Jack Merrick that.
He's a regular too." Mr. Hewitt went through the gate into the
street and climbed up into the wagon. The boys waved as they drove
off and Julia waved back, though her thoughts were elsewhere.
    She had no idea such a game existed in town,
and she suspected that was intentional. Gambling was not something
ladies participated in or even acknowledged. And Mr. Hunter had
participated. Julia's thoughts whirled. She knew so little about
the man, and was determined to find out more in case that led her
to the perpetrator of his beating.