Free Whistler in the Dark by Kathleen Ernst Page B

left cheek was streaked with ink. And she was happy.
    â€œNo, Mother,” Emma said. “I don’t mind going on alone.”
    She walked back to the boardinghouse as the last blues of twilight shadowed the garbage in the streets. Emma was fiercely proud that they’d managed to print the prospectus. Still, loneliness nibbled. Emma couldn’t help remembering all the times when Mother’s war work had consumed all else: “Emma dear, we want to get the hall decorated for the donation party tonight. Would you mind horribly having dinner with the Littletons again?” Or, “I’d love to look at your sketchbook, darling, but can it wait? I’m scheduled to meet with the contractor about the floral pavilion for the Sanitary Fair.”
    A man coughed somewhere behind Emma, and she cast a nervous glance over her shoulder into the deepening shadows. Was The Whistler watching her? Maybe even following her? Didn’t Mother worry about Emma walking back alone? Emma had to remind herself, in fairness, that Mother didn’t know The Whistler had appeared in Twin Pines. Still, Emma walked back to the boarding-house as fast as she could.
    In their bedroom, Emma lit a lamp and sat staring at the photograph of her father. If only he hadn’t died, if only the dreadful Civil War had never started …
    Emma gave herself a mental shake. She wasn’t sure Father would approve of this Colorado venture, but he would want Emma to help Mother in any way she could. And, after all, Mother’s absence tonight made Emma’s plan to catch The Whistler much easier.
    Emma washed her face and tidied the room. Then she dimmed the lamp, tiptoed downstairs, and eased into a chair by the front parlor window. If The Whistler followed the pattern of the last two evenings, he would soon appear, whistling Maggie by My Side .
    Who would she see? Emma rubbed her arms. If she could catch sight of him right here in the middle of town, with Mrs. Sloane and The Raven’s patrons within hollering distance, maybe she’d have the courage to confront him. If she didn’t recognize him, she’d demand to know who he was and why he was trying so hard to scare the Hendersons out of Twin Pines.
    Laughter and shouting drifted across the street from the saloon. Emma heard several horses trotting by, and the rattle of a wagon. A man leaving the saloon cursed roundly when he stumbled down the steps. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, Emma did not hear a man whistling.
    Frustration and disappointment welled in her throat. Finally, when she couldn’t stay awake any longer, Emma gave up and went to bed.
    â€œLook at this,” Mother said triumphantly Early-morning sun slanted across piles of the brown prospectus, stacked on one of the print shop’s worktables. “Three hundred of them.”
    â€œGreat guns!” Jeremy exclaimed. “That’s wonderful!”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Mule Tom echoed more quietly.
    Emma picked up one of the papers. “The Twin Pines Herald” marched across the top in big print. The front page contained subscription and advertising information, as well as Mother’s article about the stolen press handle and the burned paper shipment. The right-hand column, labeled “Local Items,” featured tidbits Emma had gathered while soliciting subscriptions: Mrs. Handshew recently became a grandmother. Mr. Taylor is recovering from a bad cough. Jim Moody had Dixie John dig a new well on his ranch .
    â€œI predict that every one of those people will subscribe to the paper, if they haven’t already.” Mother grinned. “People love seeing their names in print. Your father taught me that, Emma.”
    As Emma and Jeremy headed out for a morning of distributing the prospectus and soliciting subscriptions, Jeremy scrunched one hand down into a pocket. “I got something for you,” he said.
    He laughed at her expression when he