I searched his eyes as I did that first night I arrived when I told him about my involvement with Resistance Work and asked him if I should stay or go. Tonight they were warm. Trusting. I couldn’t believe this was the same man who had met me at the depot station. Then, he was a man who looked beaten down from life. Burdened. But now, his eyes had life and strength inside of them, such resolve.
I turned away from Robert and went to look out the big picture window. I crossed my arms tightly against my stomach. I breathed in and breathed out, trying to find peace. I had learned long ago to read God’s answers to any troubling decision by looking at my heart, my spirit, for a prompting of His peace, but for this issue—remaining in America—I knew I had closed my mind to God’s leading.
Tell me what to do and I will do it, Lord!
I thought of Rosita’s comment, that maybe God needed me here in Copper Springs, more than he needed me in Germany. Robert’s voice echoed in my mind: “What makes you so sure your life can’t count here?” I gazed out the window at the quirky town, at the odd, sharply angled, red rocky hills behind it, at Robert’s church with the peeling paint.
Again, I lifted a silent prayer. Just tell me what to do, and I will do it, Lord. I’m ready to listen. I’m finally ready to listen.
At that precise moment, I knew that, somehow, I did belong here. I no longer had any doubts that God had plucked me out of Berlin and dropped me here in Copper Springs for His purposes. But it wasn’t just about Robert and William needing me. I needed them. They had become my family.
That verse in the Scriptures I had stumbled upon, “God setteth the solitary in families,” that verse was God’s message to me. I’m not sure I would ever be able to fathom why God had spared my life and not others—others in Germany far more deserving than I, but I knew He had blessed me by bringing me here. And He wanted me to accept his blessing. For the first time in a very long time, I knew, without any doubt, that I was right where I was meant to be. Finally, lightness lifted my soul. All of the tension I had carried for months now, maybe even for years, seeped away.
I turned back to Robert and said, “I would be honored to be your wife.”
* * * *
The ceremony was brief and uneventful. We stood in the judge’s living room. The judge’s wife, for whom I had made a choir robe in an extra-extra large size, acted as our witness. After a few words, the judge pronounced us husband and wife.
Then came an awkward pause. “Well, Robert, if you’re too timid to kiss your bride, then I will.” He reached out for me, but Robert, thankfully, stopped him. The judge was a kind and wonderful man, avuncular almost, but I did not intend to let him kiss me.
Robert laughed. “Thank you, Judge, but I think I can manage.” He turned to me and gently cupped my face in his hands, as he did a few days ago in the kitchen, but this time it wasn’t to wipe away tears. He kissed me first on each cheek, then, tenderly, on my lips. It might have been all of the excitement of the day, but my knees felt as quivery as Miss Gordon’s green gelatin dessert.
* * * *
At breakfast the next morning we told Miss Gordon and William we had been married by Judge Pryor. I wasn’t quite sure how she would react to this “solution” to my immigration problem.
To my surprise-and delight-she began to dab at her eyes with that dishtowel she always had tucked in her apron. “Well, it’s about time somebody did something around here,” she said, peering straight at Robert.
Ah relief! Emboldened, I decided I would just start calling her Aunt Martha. I doubted she would ever volunteer such familiarity.
About William’s response, I had no doubt. He stood up on his chair and clapped and yelled so loudly I feared he might rouse Chief Cochise from his grave. For a child who had just learned how to communicate, he was making up for lost time in leaps and bounds. Even Dog started jumping and barking in the excitement.
Aunt Martha threw up her dishtowel in mock despair. “Oh, for the love of heaven,” she muttered, as she swept out the door to get away from the happy chaos.
I grabbed William, hugged him, and gave him kisses all over his face. I couldn’t love a child more. From the corner of my eye, I saw Robert watching us, cup of coffee in his hand, one hip leaning against the counter, his serious grey eyes brimming with tears.
The next morning was Sunday. At church, I gazed around at faces now familiar to me. At the end of the service, Robert surprised me by asking me to stand up and come up to join him. I walked up to him, a little puzzled. He smiled at me, his eyes reassuring, and took my hand.
Then he turned to the congregation and announced, “I would like to introduce to you my wife, Louisa Gordon.”
Like the last time, I wished he had given me notice he was going to introduce me. All eyes turned to me, my cheeks burned, but this time, the elderly man who whistled throughout the hymns started to clap. Then another joined him and another, until the entire congregation stood up and clapped.
I quickly realized there was a reason behind Robert’s announcement. He kept his eyes locked on Herr Mueller’s face to see him react to the news. As the church ladies crowded around to congratulate me, Herr Mueller grabbed Ernest and slipped out. I watched Robert and saw him give a nod to Judge Pryor, who followed Herr Mueller out.
After a while, Robert came over to me. “Louisa, we need to go. Please excuse us, ladies.”
The judge met us at the house with a grave look on his face. “Robert, you were right. Mueller went straight to the telegraph office and made Ernest open up on a Sunday morning. I waited until after Mueller left the telegraph office and then I went in. Ernest didn’t want to talk much, being that he takes that blasted oath of office so seriously, but you can kind of work your way around things and Ernest will let loose. He admitted Mueller had to send a telegram to his ailing father. He wrote it out in German, and Ernest had to send it out in Morse code. Here, Louisa, I wrote it down to see if you could figure anything out.”
I read the little piece of paper he held out to me: “Heinrich Mueller.” My mind started racing. I looked up at Robert. “I told you. There are too many coincidences.”
Judge Pryor looked back and forth between us. “What? What does that mean?”
“The head of the Geheime Staatspolizei is a man named Heinrich Mueller,” I explained.
“I’m still not following,” he said.
“Geheime Staatspolizei. Gestapo. The secret police.”
The judge’s eyes went wide with shock.
“If Mueller got into my lock box, don’t you think he could have gotten into others?” asked Robert. “And if so, what has he done with the valuables? Could he be sending this town’s money and valuables back to Berlin?”
He was thoughtful for a moment. “Judge, do you think you could get into your safety deposit box tomorrow morning? You’d have to wait until Mueller is away from the bank.” He rubbed his chin. “Who else could we ask, without stirring up notice? We don’t want to tip our hands to Mueller, or create hysteria in the town.”
“I think I can get Ernest in on this,” said the judge. “I need to question him about other wirings that Mueller might have done, anyway. If he’s upset that his safety deposit box is empty, which I have a hunch it will be, he’ll start talking.”
He stood up to leave.
“Thank you, Judge Pryor, for everything you’ve done for us,” Robert said.
“Robert, if you and Louisa are on to something, then it is this town that will be thanking you.”
* * * *
The next morning, Monday, Robert asked Aunt Martha to take William out so that he wouldn’t be home for the INS field officer’s appointment with me.
Soon after they left, Judge Pryor knocked on the kitchen door. “I thought you might need a little extra clout.”
The sight of that kind face gave me needed courage. I poured him a cup of coffee, hoping he wouldn’t notice my trembling hands. The same serious looking man drove up to the parsonage at 10 a.m. sharp. Robert and the
judge met with him in the parlor. I stayed in the kitchen. For the first time in my entire life, I was not tempted to eavesdrop. It felt like an eternity, but it really only lasted a few minutes.
“Louisa, please come in,” Robert finally called out to me. I walked into the room, and nodded to the officer.
“Ma’am, I just wanted to give you my heartfelt congratulations,” said the officer. “My brother married a war bride; she’s done him proud. Five kids already and one on the way! Two sets of twins.”
I froze. In the turmoil of the last few days, I realized there was a rather sizable topic I had not considered.
The judge walked the officer out to his car, then hurried back inside. “Your guess was spot-on, Robert. I checked this morning before I came over here. My box was empty. Everything’s gone. Ernest’s box was empty, too. He’s adding up the amount of cash Mueller has wired to a specific location. Soon as I get that information, I’ll get a warrant written up to search Mueller’s office at the bank.”
Robert turned to me. “Louisa, go get the ring.”
“Good thinking. We can add the charge of battery to the list,” said the judge.
“I do think Glenda would be more willing to make charges against Herr Mueller if she thought he was going to be arrested,” I said.
“I wonder how long this has been going on,” the judge thought aloud.
“It can’t be too long,” answered Robert. “I put Louisa’s passport in my safety deposit box just over a year ago. Nothing was missing.”
“This is more than missing assets in the bank,” I said. “I suspect Mueller is becoming more daring as Germany is losing the war. My guess is he’s getting pressured to send more money.” Then I added what I’d been thinking about for a while now. “I think the real reason he came to Copper Springs in the first place, years ago, was to buy the mines and send copper to Germany through Mexico. His wife told me he travels to Mexico every week.” I reminded Robert about the convoy of trucks we had seen.
“So you think stealing from the bank has been an afterthought?” Robert asked.
“I do.”
Robert and Judge Pryor exchanged looks.
“You’re probably right,” Robert sighed. He looked at the judge. “She’s always right.”
I leaned back on the davenport. It made me heartsick to think Herr Mueller was aiding the Nazis, sending valuable minerals from America’s land, her heart, right back to the enemy she was fighting. I put my hand to my forehead and closed my eyes. “I am so sorry.”
“Don’t you be sorry, Louisa. Mueller’s been stopped. That’s all that’s important. He might have continued this thievery for years; we were certainly fools enough to let him.” Judge Pryor shook his head in disgust and left to go to the telegraph office.
I ran upstairs to get Herr Mueller’s ring and put it in my pocket.
When Robert and I arrived at the telegraph office, we found Ernest and the judge pouring over the ledger. The judge looked up and saw Robert. “Mueller wires money regularly to a bank account in Switzerland. He’s been doing it for years.”
“Judge, he told me he had a sick father who needed the support,” Ernest rushed to say. “I never thought another thing about it. It’s not my job to get into people’s business. You know that, Judge. I took an oath of office.”
“I know, I know all about your oath, Ernest. Now keep adding up those figures.”
“Let’s see. Here’s one from last summer. He wired $1,325.”
One thousand dollars, three hundred, and twenty-five dollars. Mrs. Drummond’s money. Sent covertly to the Nazis. I felt as if I might be ill. I sat down in a chair and put my head in my hands. Thankfully, no one noticed; they were leaning over the counter, examining the ledger, trying to connect all of the dots of Herr Mueller’s operation. I went outside to get fresh air, leaning against the building and breathing deeply.
Down the street, I spied Robert’s church. I knew I had to get inside and soak up the quiet. I didn’t even know how to pray about all of this. My thoughts were so jumbled; so much had happened in scarcely a few days’ time.
I went into Robert’s office to find his Bible, turned on the desk light, and sat at his desk. His Bible was right on top. I picked it up, anxiously thumbing through it, looking for something to help console me, landing on Proverbs 3:25, 26: “Be not afraid of sudden fear, neither of the desolation of the wicked, when it cometh. For the Lord shall be thy confidence, and shall keep thy foot from being taken.”
Comforted, I smiled. The Lord shall be my confidence. I took a deep breath and started to feel calmer.
I heard a door open to the sanctuary. “Robert? I’m in here,” I called out.
But there was no answer.
A chill went up my spine. Intuitively, I sensed who was in the church. I took the chunky ring from my pocket and placed it in Robert’s Bible, closed it and put it on his chair just as Herr Mueller walked into the office. He locked the door leading to the sanctuary behind him. I stood behind the desk, ready to face him, as boldness from some deep place welled up within me.
“Frau Gordon. May I congratulate you on your nuptials? What a clever trick. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for the pious Reverend to lie in a vow before God.”
“You sent that INS officer, didn’t you, Herr Mueller? And you’ve been sending money from the people in this town to Berlin to support the Nazis, haven’t you?”
A shadow crossed his face. Encouraged, I decided to take the offensive and keep going. “Robert and Judge Pryor are over at the telegraph office right now, adding up the money you’ve wired to a bank in Switzerland. Money that belongs to the people in this town. You’ve been found out. It’s over, Herr Mueller.” Slowly, I started moving toward the door.
“Oh, no, it isn’t, Fräulein.” His face twisted into a wicked grin. “You are my most valuable commodity now. You’re coming with me.” He came around the desk to grab me as I turned and kicked him hard in the shin. He leaned over in pain as I tried to slip past him. He was doubled over, clutching his shin. I reached a hand out to the door that led outside, only to feel a sharp blow strike the back of my head.
I had the strangest thought before everything went dark: Ruth left her wedding ring on Robert’s pillow so he would know she left. I left Herr Mueller’s ring for him so that he would know to find me.
Chapter Thirteen
I had no idea how much time elapsed between the confrontation with Herr Mueller in the church and the point when I regained consciousness. The back of my head had a swelling knot; blood trickled down my neck. My hands and my feet were bound with rope.
Where was I? In the back of a filthy truck. Gingerly, I sat up. There were boxes and sacks scattered everywhere. I wiggled over to the back opening of the truck. I peeked out the opening and saw Herr Mueller, at the front of a mine, talking to a miner, his arms waving and pointing as if giving directions.
I noticed a boy trudging out of the mines. I only spotted him because he had a shock of bright red hair. The miner called the boy over and pointed to another truck. Wearily, the boy climbed onto the back of the truck and waited, legs swinging back and forth like a pendulum.
I tried to get the ropes off of my hands; I was going to have to work quickly to escape out the back of the truck while Herr Mueller was preoccupied. Just then I heard Herr Mueller’s voice yell out as he walked back to the truck. “Carter! I want that ore delivered today! No excuses!”
I whipped my head around and looked at the man Herr Mueller called Carter and then at that forlorn boy. Curly red hair like that wasn’t very common. It was as loud as a trumpet. Glenda’s nephew! I was sure of it.
Herr Mueller walked to the truck. I wiggled to where I had been laying so he wouldn’t think I had regained consciousness. He glanced quickly at me in the back of the truck, then walked around to the driver’s seat and climbed in. He started the truck, backed it up, and headed down the bumpy, dirt road leading from the mine to the highway.
I wondered which wa
y he would drive when he hit the highway. I hoped it might be north to Copper Springs, but I doubted it would be so. He turned south, just like that convoy I had seen one night when I first arrived in Copper Springs, when Robert and I returned from visiting Mrs. Drummond. Toward Mexico.
Think, Louisa, think.
I knew my chance for escape was better now than it would be in Mexico. Copper Springs was only a few miles from the border town of Naco in the Mexican state of Sonora. I hoped to get the attention of the border guards when we stopped, but Herr Mueller either knew them well or had paid them off. Or both. He didn’t even stop the truck; the border guards waved him through. Herr Mueller sped through the border so quickly that I didn’t have any opportunity to be seen. My heart sank as I watched the United States recede from the bumpy view out the back of the truck.
I settled back, leaning against the truck’s side, resigning myself to the realization that I was going to be stuck for a while. I weighed my options and tried to review the skills I’d been taught in the Resistance.
Rule number one: Try to escape. Herr Mueller was driving so fast I dare not try to jump out the back; I doubted I would survive the fall on such steeply curving, rocky roads. My best chance for escape was to get the ropes untied, so I concentrated on trying to loosen them. They were so tight they were making rope burns on my wrists as I wiggled my fingers.
My feet felt numb. I tried to wiggle over to one of the sacks to see what was inside. It took a few minutes, but finally I was able to open one up. Inside the sack were money, papers, valuable coins, jewelry, and countless other personal treasures.
With my hands tied together, I pulled out one of the papers. It was a stock certificate for a company called International Business Machines made out to Edward and Isabel Pryor. Judge Pryor!
I looked through more sacks. They were filled with assets stolen from the bank’s safety deposit boxes. Besides stock certificates, war bonds, and cash, there were marriage and birth certificates, charm bracelets, rings, gold coins, Confederate money, even baby teeth. Treasures of the town. The sacks were so hastily bundled together that I deduced Mueller must have just recently started looting the bank. But that also meant he wasn’t planning to return to Copper Springs.
The Copper Series Page 20