“He and Asher Aydelot have gone to Careyville to settle some of John Jacobs’ affairs. They and Todd Stewart are named as trustees in the will,” Leigh replied.
She had laid aside her brushes and sat with her hands folded in her lap. Champers pulled up a spear of blue-grass and chewed it thoughtfully. At length he said:
“Yes, I knew that. Jacobs left no end of things in the way of property for me to look after. I’ll report to them now. I seem to be general handy man. Doc Carey left matters with me, too.”
“Yes?” Leigh said courteously.
“Well, referrin’ to that matter regardin’ your father we spoke of the other day, I find, through Doc Carey’s helpin’ an’ some other ways, that your father, Mr. Tank Shirley, was accidentally drowned in Clover Creek, Ohio, some years ago. So far as I can find out, he died insolvent. If I discover anything further, I’ll let you know.”
Leigh sat very still, her eyes on the far-away headlands that seemed like blue cloud banks at the moment.
“Had you heard of Miss Jane Aydelot’s demise? I reckon you had, of course. But do you know what her intentions were?” 359
Leigh looked steadily at her questioner. All her life she had had a way of keeping her own counsel, nor was it ever easy to know what her thoughts might be.
“Miss Shirley, the late Miss Jane Aydelot trusted Doc Carey to look after her affairs. Doc Carey, he trusted me to take his place. Can you trust me to be the last link of the chain in doin’ her business? My grammar’s poor, but my hands is clean now, thank the Lord!”
“Yes, Mr. Champers, I am sure of your uprightness.”