They drove a bit farther until they were away from the stores and other businesses and were now surrounded on both sides by homes. Stephen brought the horse to a slow walk and tucked the lap robe more closely around Sarah’s knees.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Miss Palmer, I don’t mean to burden you, but I feel you’re someone I can trust,” he began.
“Well, if we’re going to start exchanging confidences, there’s one thing we need to do first,” she told him.
“And what is that?”
“I’d like you to call me Sarah.”
A wide grin flashed across his face. “I’d like that. And you must call me Stephen.”
“All right, Stephen. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”
The grin disappeared from his face as quickly as it had appeared. “You’ll recall that I mentioned a rift between myself and my father.”
“Yes. I asked about it, and you said it wasn’t your story to tell.”
“That’s right, and it’s still not my story, except that I’ve been dragged into it.” He passed a hand over his face. “Miss Palmer—Sarah—if you knew someone was a liar and a thief, but you had no way to prove it, what would you do?”
Sarah blinked. His voice held such a tone of raw emotion, she wasn’t sure at first how to respond. “Are these lies hurting other people?” she asked after a long moment of silence.
“They are. People aren’t being paid what’s due them—honest people who have worked hard to provide for their families.”
“Am I to assume that the person doing the lying and stealing is your father?”
Stephen took so long to answer that Sarah wondered if she’d completely overstepped her bounds. Then he drew in a ragged breath. “Yes. And again, I have no proof. I’m not working directly in his office anymore—I’ve moved over to ticketing—but I’m still seeing the results of what he’s done. I’m overhearing confusion about discrepancies in shipping slips, workers feeling as though something is wrong with the way their pay is being calculated—all sorts of things. But no one can put their finger on it, and my father has tinkered with the books so thoroughly, there’s no way to trace it back to him.”
Sarah mulled that over for a moment. “With no way to trace it back, how do you know it’s him?”
Again, Stephen fell silent. “I’ve seen him toss papers in the fire,” he finally said. “I’ve overheard a few whispered conversations. Most of all, though, it’s just a sense of knowing. I’m sure that sounds odd, but I can’t explain it—there aren’t words, really. I just know.”
Sarah nodded. “I understand. Sometimes there are things we can’t explain through traditional means—we just sense them in our hearts.”
“Precisely.” Stephen turned to look at her. “What should I do? I was conflicted enough before, but now that I’m seeing the results of what he’s done, the conflict is so much worse. He’s tampering with people’s lives, not just the company’s money.”
Sarah wished she had anything wise to say. She’d never been in a situation like that before. “I don’t know what you should do,” she said at last. “With no proof, what can you do, really? Have you confronted him?”
“The argument we had—the one that precipitated my leaving his office—was over a wage dispute, and I told him he was being unethical. So he knows I have suspicions on that count. Does he know I believe he’s actually stealing? Does he know that I suspect him of tampering with the shipments? I don’t know. Perhaps. At any rate, he knows I suspect something. I’m sorry—that’s not a very clear answer. It’s just the best one I have to give.”
“That’s all right.” The horse had slowed to a walk, but it didn’t matter—they weren’t in a hurry, and it was pleasant to glide along at such a slow pace. “I wish I had some advice to offer you, but I don’t. All I can do is be a listening ear.”
“And I appreciate that. I don’t know why I felt to unburden myself on you—I just needed someone to talk to, and your name came to mind. I felt you’d be sympathetic.”
“I am sympathetic. I’m just not helpful.”
Stephen chuckled. “I’m sure it will all work out somehow—he’ll make a mistake and get caught, or perhaps he’ll realize he’d better stop before it reaches that point. I believe that fate steps in where needed and brings things to light eventually.”
“That’s a very optimistic attitude to take. Aren’t there plenty of crimes that go unsolved entirely?”
“True, true. But you must let me tell myself these little stories or I won’t have any way to comfort myself.”
Sarah gave him a smile. “Did you mention once that Gilbert also works with your father? What if you spoke with him? Does he know the truth?”
Stephen seemed to consider that. “He does work with my father, but I don’t know if he’s aware of everything going on. He does whatever Father says, but he could just be doing it out of loyalty.”
“I think it would serve you well to talk to him, if for no other reason than to set your mind at ease where he’s concerned.”
Stephen nodded. “I think you’re right. If he’s helping my father, I should be looking for evidence against him too. If he’s not helping him, perhaps he could help me find what I’m looking for. See? You are helpful.”
“Not nearly as much as I’d like to be, but thank you for thinking so.”
Stephen brought the horse and sleigh around in a wide arc and headed them back in the other direction. “Let’s get you home, and then I’ll go find my brother. I don’t want to delay on this—I don’t know how long the workers can hang in there without the proper wages.”
Stephen’s demeanor had definitely changed. When they first started their drive, he’d seemed burdened and confused. Now he was focused, propelled by a sense of direction. Sarah hoped that his talk with Gilbert would go well. If his brother was helping their father steal from the company, things could get very ugly indeed.
Chapter Fourteen
Denver, Colorado
1875
“Good news,” Felicity said, meeting Sarah at the door. “We just got a return telegram from Dr. Wayment. He can be here on Wednesday to examine Mother.”
“Oh, that is good news.” Sarah pulled off her wrap and hung it in the entryway. “I hope he’s able to solve this little mystery.”
“As do I. Now, come sit down with me and tell me everything that happened at the luncheon. Don’t leave anything out.”
Sarah followed her cousin into the parlor, where she sank into a chair and stared at the fire. Felicity sat near her, a small bundle of baby snuggled up on her chest. “At first, I thought I was going to go in there and cause a horrendous scene. Then it turned into a smaller, private scene, and I’m not at all sure how I feel about it.”
“What do you mean?” Felicity asked.
Sarah recounted everything that had been said, and then sighed. “I said everything I wanted to say, but the victory doesn’t seem as sweet. I’m not even sure it was a victory. I don’t know what I expected—for her to fall at my feet and beg my forgiveness? That never would have happened, so I never would have hoped for it. But I wanted something—any kind of acknowledgement that she’d even heard me. I feel like the whole thing was utterly useless.”
“I’m so sorry.” Felicity gave her a sympathetic look. “But if nothing else came of it, at least you had your say.”
“Is it really having my say if it falls on deaf ears?”
“You’ll know you did everything you could. The rest of it is out of your control, and therefore, you shouldn’t worry about it.”
“I suppose you’re right. I very much dislike it when things are out of my control, though.”
“I believe that’s a family trait.” Felicity smiled, then stood up. “I’m going to lay this little miss in her cradle while I get some housework done. Mother’s been asking for you—why don’t you go sit with her for a bit?”
“I will, and then you need to give me some tasks. I have
n’t done nearly enough around here.”
Felicity chuckled. “I’d disagree with that. Dinner was wonderful.”
Sarah shrugged that off. “I did it primarily for selfish reasons. Make me do something hard so I’ll really feel useful.”
“All right, I’ll have you pound carpets in the snow. Is that better?”
“Oh, much. Absolutely.”
***
Aunt Clasby sat up a little and readjusted the pillow behind her back. “I wish I’d been there to see the whole thing,” she said. “Although, it would have been very hard for me not to applaud, and I’m sure that wouldn’t be quite civilized.”
“Most likely not. But I’m sure I deserved it.” Sarah grinned at her aunt. “How are you feeling today, Aunt Clasby?”
“This headache just won’t go away. Felicity brewed me some willow bark tea, which usually helps, but it’s only taken the edge off the pain. I hope Dr. Wayment can get to the bottom of this.”
“I do too.” Sarah glanced at her aunt’s bedside table. “It looks like you’re out of tea. Can I get you more?”
“Yes, please, but how about regular chamomile? If the willow bark isn’t helping, there’s no need to waste it.”
“All right.” Sarah rose and gathered up the empty dishes, then went into the kitchen to start a new kettle of water. She had the sudden urge to make a cake, and wondered if Felicity had any raisins on hand.
A rapping sounded at the door, and she heard James answer it. A moment later, he came into the kitchen, looking solemn. “I’m sent to tell you that Mr. Howard is here to see you. I asked him to wait in the parlor.”
“Thank you, James. That’s quite gentlemanly of you.” Sarah wiped her hands on a towel, wondering why Stephen had come back. She’d seen him less than an hour ago. Maybe he had something else to tell her about the situation with his father. When she walked into the parlor, though, it was Gilbert who waited for her, and not for the first time, she wished that people were more in the habit of using their given names so she’d always know just which Howard brother she could expect to deal with.
He came to his feet as soon as she entered the room. “Miss Palmer, it’s good to see you again.”
“Hello, Mr. Howard. What brings you by?”
He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked forward. “I’ve come to invite you for an evening out. You’ve been on my mind since we encountered each other at the concert, and I realized that I’ve missed you.”
He flashed her a charming smile, and she nearly laughed. Could this situation be any more ridiculous? “And this has nothing at all to do with my visit to your house this afternoon?”
“Oh? You came to my house?” His innocence was clearly an act.
“Yes, I did. I was there for your mother’s luncheon. I was rude to your grandmother and I insulted your mother. I’m quite sure you would have heard all about it.”
Gilbert suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Yes, I might have, now that you mention it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be coy with me. You not only heard about it, but you’ve been sent here on some sort of task. Your mother enjoys sending her sons on tasks, I’ve noticed. What is it? An invitation to join you in a long walk off a short pier?”
He looked utterly confused, and she wasn’t at all surprised. “My aunt is waiting for her tea, and I imagine the water is going to boil at any moment. Will you please tell me why you’re here so I can get back to what I was doing? The real reason, Mr. Howard—the motive behind the reason.”
He looked down at the floor and then back up. “All right, you have cut to the heart of the matter. Gossip, as you know, has a way of taking on a life of its own. It was thought that if I had a chance to smooth things over with you, we could avoid the unpleasantness of any gossip that might arise from this afternoon’s unpleasantness.”
“Which is your calculated way of saying that you don’t want me spreading this story all over town?”
His charming veneer was growing thinner by the moment. “Er, yes.”
She shook her head in irritation. “Mr. Howard, you have missed the point entirely. I’ve done everything I can to extricate myself from your family, and yet, I keep getting dragged back in. I want nothing to do with you, really. I never wanted to marry you. I’m only back in town because of my aunt. I want nothing from you. May we please just end this? No more invitations, no more attempts to pacify me, no more grand gestures so you look more appealing in the eyes of the community. I’m quite finished with all of you. Please, go.”
Gilbert blinked a few times. “You certainly are straightforward, Miss Palmer.”
“Well, it’s about time someone was! Good afternoon.” She walked over to the front door and held it wide.
He walked through it with a tip of his hat and a returned “Good afternoon.” She waited only until the back of his shoe had cleared the jamb before she closed the door and locked it for good measure. Of all the infuriating . . .
She was done with the whole lot of them.
Chapter Fifteen
Denver, Colorado
1875
Stephen paced the hallway, waiting for Gilbert to come home. The butler said that he’d left a short time before in one of the carriages, but that he hadn’t said where he was going. Late on a Saturday afternoon, the choices were limited, and Stephen just hoped his brother would get back before his father came in. For all Stephen’s efforts to move out of his family’s house, he seemed to spend a lot of time there.
Finally, Gilbert came striding in, clearly agitated. “There you are,” Stephen called out. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me? Whatever for? I thought you wrote off the family weeks ago.”
“I didn’t write you all off. I just can’t support what’s going on here.”
“And just what is going on here?” Gilbert leaned against the wall and fixed Stephen with a look.
“Well, that’s actually what I want to talk to you about.” Stephen glanced around. Here in the hallway, he felt vulnerable. Anyone could overhear, from the butler to the downstairs maid to his parents. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”
Gilbert sighed dramatically. “I need to dress for a party I’m attending tonight. Come with me, and you can say whatever it is you’ve come to say while I choose out my suit.”
Stephen followed his brother up the curved staircase and to his elaborate bedroom on the second floor with its mountain view. His bedroom had been just as nice before he left. He tried not to think about his small room at the boarding house, with just enough room for a bed, dresser, and desk. His things were stacked in trunks in the corner, and he ate his dinner in the downstairs dining room with five other guests and his temperamental landlady. Such a far cry from what he’d grown up with.
Gilbert pulled out three suits and laid them on the bed, then stepped back to look at them with a critical eye. “All right, what is it? I’m leaving in thirty minutes, so we’d best make this quick.”
“I want to know how much you know about Father’s dealings at the railroad.”
“His dealings? What are you talking about?”
Stephen took a seat on the chair near the fireplace, but stayed on the edge. He couldn’t relax enough to lean back. “Do you know that Father’s stealing from the company?”
Gilbert’s eyes flicked to his. “Stealing? Father? I don’t understand.” He reached down and picked up two suits, hanging them back up.
“Father is embezzling money from the Denver Pacific Railroad. He’s pocketing money that should be going to the employees. He’s lying about cargo and pocketing that money as well.”
Gilbert stripped off his coat, and then his shirt, before replying. “I don’t know where you’re getting this information.”
“I’m telling you what I’ve seen.”
Gilbert paused in the act of putting on a clean shirt to stare at his brother. “You’ve seen this going on?”
“I’ve seen him burn paperwork. I’v
e heard him having quiet conversations with his confederates.”
Gilbert shook his head and put his other arm through its sleeve. “You could have been seeing anything, Stephen. I think you’re jumping to conclusions. Careful not to break a leg when you land.”
“So you know nothing about this?”
“Of course I don’t know anything. There’s nothing going on. Think about it, Stephen—this is our father. The man who raised us. How could he possibly do something like that?”
“I don’t want to think ill of him either, but the fact is, he’s not being honest. Come on, Gilbert. Do you really think he’s completely upfront all the time and that he’s never pulled the wool over someone’s eyes to get what he wants?”
“I’m sure he’s done that from time to time, but embezzlement? That’s such a strong accusation.” Gilbert shook his hand while he fastened his pants.
“Then help me prove it.”
Gilbert looked at him sharply. “What?”
Stephen leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “If you’re sure Father’s innocent and that I’ve misunderstood this whole thing, help me prove it.” He realized he was taking quite a risk. If Gilbert was helping his father, he could hide the evidence even deeper, and Stephen would never know the truth. But he needed help. He was out of the office, out of the house, and he needed someone who had free access to both—as well as their father’s trust.
Gilbert didn’t say anything while he finished dressing. He crossed over to the mirror that hung above the washbasin and brushed his hair before turning and scowling at his brother. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. But if it will answer your questions and get you to stop questioning everything Father does like he’s some sort of criminal, all right. I’ll keep my eyes open. But I’m not going to snoop around and listen behind doors or anything like that.”
“I’m not asking you to do any such thing. Just keeping your eyes open is enough.” Stephen rose and held out his hand for Gilbert to shake. “Thank you. I’d better be on my way before I run into Father.”
The Bitter and the Sweet (Kansas Crossroads Book 9) Page 9