by Laura Beers
“That sounds logical,” Lincoln agreed.
“All right. I guess I’ll go this way,” Amey said as she started walking backwards.
She didn’t wait for Lincoln’s reply as she spun on her heel. Good heavens, she had almost kissed him… again. Hadn’t she determined that no good would come from kissing Lincoln? She would need to be more careful, because she seemed to lose all rational thought around him.
Amey’s eyes scanned the ground as she looked for any sign of the blue fabric. If the fabric wasn’t in the woods, then they had just wasted two days on this lead. And Archie would be furious if they didn’t get a break in the case soon. They were supposed to wire him tomorrow to give him an update. And right now, they didn’t have any suspects.
She came to a stop on a small ledge and glanced down at a rocky terrain. Could Doris have fallen down this sloping hill? If so, she would have had a hard time climbing back up. As she stood there, a slow crumble of falling dirt broke loose and rolled down the hill.
Amey peered down, but she saw no indication that Doris had come this way. She started to turn around, but the sight of brown paper caught her attention. It was sitting on a cluster of leaves next to a tree at the bottom of the hill. Could that be the fabric?
Deciding there was only one way to find out, she started carefully descending the hill. As she skidded to a stop at the bottom, she retrieved the package. The brown paper was tied up with string.
She loosened the string, and she found herself staring back at a rich, blue bundle of fabric. They’d been right. Doris had been in these woods on the day she was killed. But what was she doing so deep into the woods? And why was the fabric at the bottom this hill? They still had more questions than answers.
Amey knew she needed to tell Lincoln what she’d found, but she wanted to continue her search first. Something was in these woods that someone wanted to keep hidden. And someone was willing to kill to ensure that happened. She was sure of it. But now she needed to solve this case and prove to Lincoln that she was a competent agent.
That thought brought her up short. Why was it so important for her to prove herself to him? They had an undeniable attraction for each other, but Lincoln still didn’t trust her completely. She could see it in his eyes. Those dark brown eyes that could hold her captive. Why did her husband have to be such a complex creature? One moment he was trying to kiss her, and the next moment he was pushing her away.
She tucked the fabric under her arm and weaved around the trees as she went deeper into the woods, being mindful to stay low. Perhaps it was a counterfeiting ring, she thought. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d discovered a counterfeiter in the woods.
The sound of trickling water could be heard in the distance, and she found herself gravitating toward it. She’d barely arrived at the creek when she saw a crude structure leaning against a tree for support. The roof was covered with branches, in a pathetic effort to conceal it. A wooden trough brought water from the creek into the structure, and she had a suspicion why.
Amey placed the fabric on the ground and retrieved her revolver. With light, hurried steps, she approached the structure and saw a fairly large knothole in one wood plank. She stepped closer and looked in. She couldn’t see much, but enough to determine that there was no movement inside of the structure.
Coming around to the front, Amey opened the door and saw a copper still attached to a thump keg and worm box by copper piping. A fire was burning under the still. Which only meant one thing: moonshine. Someone was making moonshine in these woods, and she had no doubt that they were close by. No moonshiner would leave their operation for too long when a fire was burning. But would this person resort to killing to keep it secret?
She needed to report her findings to Lincoln, and quickly. Closing the door, she stepped back and picked up a branch off the ground. She took it and brushed the leaves along the ground, effectively smudging her footprints.
Amey retrieved the fabric before she started heading back in the direction she’d come from. It wouldn’t be smart of her to shoot into the air so close to the structure. That would surely alert their suspect that they were close by. They didn’t want to tip him off that they’d found his operation.
Attempting to walk up the hill proved to be rather difficult, but she eventually made it to the top. She traveled a short distance before she took out her pistol, pointed in the air, and fired.
10
Lincoln’s heart stopped when he heard the sound of Amey’s pistol discharging in the distance. Without the slightest hesitation, he turned in the direction of the shot and started racing through the woods. He hoped she wasn’t in immediate danger. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to her.
He’d only known Amey for such a short time, but she had quickly grown to mean very much to him. How was that possible? He felt like he could share anything with her, knowing that she would not judge him. What a wonderful feeling that was.
Lincoln continued to race through the woods until he saw her in a small clearing. She was holding blue cloth under her arm and appeared unscathed.
He came to a stop in front of her, his breathing labored. “Are you all right?” he asked in between breaths.
“I am.” She held up the dirt covered cloth for his inspection. “I found the fabric.”
“Where?”
“At the bottom of a rocky hill,” she answered proudly.
“Good work.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you find any indication of why Doris was so far into these woods?”
Amey tucked the fabric under her arm. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that yet, but I did find something interesting.”
“Which is?”
She paused. “Someone is making moonshine in these woods.”
“Moonshine?”
“Yes, some people call it ‘mountain dew’.”
Lincoln’s eyes scanned the woods. “Where did you find that?”
“Not far from where I found the fabric, in that direction,” she revealed, pointing.
“How do you know someone was making moonshine?”
She offered him a look of exasperation. “Because I saw the copper still.”
“Was a fire heating the copper still?”
“It was.”
“They must still be in the process of fermentation, or else they wouldn’t have left the structure unattended.”
Amey nodded in agreement. “That’s what I thought, as well.”
“Moonshine is made from corn meal and grain,” Lincoln remarked. “Do you think the Crofts are making moonshine to supplement their income?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time a corn farmer did that,” she replied. “And it most definitely won’t be the last.”
“True, but do you think that Jonathon would go to such great lengths to keep their secret?” Lincoln pressed.
Amey shook her head. “I don’t think Jonathon is capable of killing anyone.”
“I agree,” Lincoln said. “Which begs the question, who is using these woods to make moonshine?”
A smile came to Amey’s face. “I guess we are going to have to wait and see who comes to visit the structure.”
“That sounds like a splendid idea.”
“There’s a possibility that these two things are not related,” he remarked. “It might just be a coincidence that the fabric was found so close to the structure.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” she replied firmly.
“Neither do I,” he replied, “and moonshiners are notoriously ruthless.”
“Perhaps the person killed Doris when they saw she was so close to the structure?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Lincoln said, holding his hand out. “Will you lead the way?”
She smiled. “Thank you, kind sir.”
He chuckled as he started following her through the woods. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun on an assignment before.”
&n
bsp; “Neither have I,” she replied. “As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve never been assigned a partner before.”
“Generally, partners are irksome, and they just get in the way.”
“Are you implying that you’re enjoying being my partner?” she asked.
He nodded. “I suppose I am.”
“Are you ready to admit that we’re friends yet?”
“I don’t know why you’re so insistent about being my friend,” he huffed.
Amey shrugged. “I suppose because I don’t have many friends.”
“I can see why, if you keep pestering them with requests to be their friend,” he said, but softened his words with a smile.
“That’s only with you.”
Feeling immensely pleased by her words, he asked, “Why is that?’
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I don’t rightly know.”
“If you’re worried that I will give Archie a scathing review of your performance, then don’t be,” he said.
“Truly?” she asked.
He nodded. “Not only did you find the fabric, but you might have found the break in our case.”
Amey slowed her steps as she approached the top of the rocky hill. “The ground is a little loose here, so be careful when you go down,” she warned.
Lincoln followed her down the hill and found himself sliding more than walking. Once they were at the bottom, Amey pointed to the ground next to a tree and said, “That’s where I found the fabric.”
He glanced back at the sloped hill. “Perhaps Doris fell down the hill and was injured while running from her attacker.”
“Possibly,” Amey said as she resumed walking. “There is a creek further down this way and that’s where I found the structure.”
He removed his gun from the back of his trousers and held it in his right hand. He didn’t know what they were up against, but he wanted to ensure that he was prepared.
Amey pointed in the distance. “Do you see it?”
“I do,” he said as he spotted a small wooden structure. “Come on, let’s see if anyone is home yet.”
As they approached the structure, Lincoln grew tense, not knowing what they were about to encounter. He kept his gun trained on the door as he whispered, “Go open the door and stand back.”
Amey did as he bade and opened the door. Instead of stepping back, she peered inside and announced, “It’s empty.”
“That means whoever is making this moonshine will return shortly.”
“And we’ll be here waiting for them,” she said, closing the door.
He tucked his gun away. “Let’s go find a hiding spot far enough way that we won’t be detected.”
“That’s a smart move, Mr. Lead Agent,” Amey joked as she picked up a branch and wiped away their tracks.
He pressed his lips together. “I wish you would stop calling me that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m beginning to recognize that you don’t need someone looking over your shoulder,” Lincoln replied as he moved toward some bushes on the opposite side of the creek. “I find you to be an efficient agent.”
Amey quickly caught up to him and matched his stride. “Careful. If I wasn’t any wiser, I would think that you’re offering me a compliment.”
“I am,” he replied.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I must admit, your compliments are getting better.”
He glanced over at her. “You seem surprised by my remarks.”
“Frankly, I am,” she replied. “I’m afraid I have a hard time getting a read on you.”
“Is that so?”
She tightened her hold on the fabric. “I see the mistrust in your eyes when you look at me.”
He stopped next to the bushes and got low to the ground. “It’s not just you,” he replied. “I don’t trust anyone.”
“Why?” she asked, crouching down next to him.
Sighing, he said, “You once asked about Paul.”
“I did.”
He closed his eyes as he admitted, “Paul is dead because of me. He made the mistake of trusting me.”
Amey placed the fabric down onto the ground before she put a hand on his sleeve. “May I ask what happened?”
“Paul was our color bearer,” he shared. “He was sixteen years old.”
“Isn’t that a little young to be in the war?”
Lincoln nodded. “It wasn’t unheard of. The captains were more than happy to overlook a young man’s age, assuming he knew how to shoot a rifle.”
“Could Paul shoot a rifle?”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head, “but the captain let him be the color bearer anyway, instructing him to stay out of the line of fire. Also, he had forty-six soldiers protecting him.”
“Why so many?”
Lincoln grew solemn. “You never want the enemy to capture your flag. It ruins morale and can turn the tide of a battle.”
“That does sound logical.”
“My job as a sniper was to kill anyone who got close to Paul,” he revealed. “But on this particular day, the Confederate soldiers were determined to capture the flag. I couldn’t kill them fast enough.” His voice hitched. “They just kept coming and coming.”
“Did they capture the flag?”
“No,” he answered. “We held them off, but not before one of them shot Paul and mortally wounded him. Being the ever-diligent soldier that he was, Paul was able to hand off the flag to another soldier before he died.”
Lincoln swiped at the tears forming in his eyes. “I wasn’t good enough to save Paul, and…” His voice trailed off. “He died because of me.”
“Weren’t forty-five other soldiers protecting him, as well?”
He nodded. “Yes, but I was the sniper assigned to protect him.”
“Were you in some way shirking your responsibility?”
“No, but—”
She spoke over him. “Then it wasn’t your fault, Lincoln.”
He shook his head, not daring to believe her. “I should have been better, quicker…”
Amey’s eyes filled with compassion. “You were doing the best you could,” she replied, cutting him off. “It’s time for you to recognize that you were doing everything in your power to save Paul that day.”
“But—”
“No, buts,” she interjected. “You’re a good man, Lincoln Hoyt.”
A tear rolled down his cheek. “I don’t feel like a good man. I feel like a failure.”
Amey brought her hand up and cupped his right cheek, forcing him to look at her. “I’ve only known you for a brief time, but I know you’re an honorable man. You are a man worth knowing.”
“Do you truly believe so?”
She nodded. “I know so.”
He stared at her for a long moment before saying, “You’re an amazing woman, Amey Hoyt.”
“I would agree with you there.” She smiled.
“And humble, I see,” he teased, returning her smile.
Amey opened her mouth to respond when he heard a twig breaking in the distance. He put his finger up to his lips, indicating she should remain silent.
They watched as a lone, lanky man emerged from the trees. It wasn’t long before he recognized who it was.
“That’s John Croft,” Lincoln revealed in a hushed voice.
Keeping her eyes trained on their suspect, she asked, “Jonathon’s son?”
He nodded his head. “His older son. I met him when we were bringing in the wood from the pile out back.”
Amey gripped her revolver tighter. “Should we approach him?”
“Yes, but let’s make sure that he’s alone first.”
“Good call,” she replied, ducking lower behind the bushes.
It seemed John didn’t have any inclination that he was being spied on. He walked right up to the crude structure and opened the door. He stepped inside and disappeared from their view.
“Let’s wait until he steps out before we approach him,” Lincol
n said, his eyes scanning the woods. “We don’t want to risk catching the structure on fire. If that happens, it could ignite the tree and cause a wildfire.”
Amey rose slightly from her position. “I think we should get closer and flank him when he comes out.”
“I agree.” Lincoln pointed toward one side of the structure. “I’ll take that side, and you take the other.”
She bobbed her head in agreement and headed off in her assigned direction. She found a tree to hide behind and kept her gaze solely on the door of the structure. After a few moments, she heard John whistling ‘Yankee Doodle’ from inside of the structure.
From her vantage point, she could see Lincoln directly across from her, also behind a tree, and his pistol was drawn. His alert eyes remained fixed on the door.
A short time later, the door opened, and John walked out at a leisurely pace. He stopped, placed his hands on his suspenders and stared up at the trees. He let out a sigh as he brought his gaze down.
John had just taken a step when Amey heard Lincoln’s authoritative voice order, “Stay where you are.”
John’s eyes shot over to Lincoln, who had just emerged from hiding behind the tree. Amey could see indecision on his face.
“Don’t even think about running,” Amey stated as she stepped out from behind the tree, pointing her revolver at his chest. “Either we will catch you, or we will shoot you.”
“It’s true,” Lincoln replied. “And, frankly, it just depends on our moods. But if we do decide to shoot you, you can be sure that we never miss.”
John’s eyes grew wide as he glanced between them. “What do you want?”
Lincoln kept his gun trained at John as he walked closer to the structure and opened the door. He peered inside. “You have quite an operation here.”
John remained silent, but his eyes tracked Lincoln.
“My question is,” Lincoln continued, closing the door, “how is it possible for a seventeen-year-old boy to afford these contraptions?”
John crossed his arms over his chest. “Why should it matter to you?”
She spoke up. “Because we are Pinkerton agents, and we uphold the law.”
With wide eyes, John stared at Amey in disbelief. “Why would Pinkerton agents care if I’m making moonshine? It is hardly against the law, and everyone is doing it.”