“I understand, Joy. I’m grateful that you are past that part of your life. However, just ‘letting it go’ may not be an option.”
“Why? What are you telling me?”
“As I said, Franklin defrauded some outstanding Omaha citizens. They didn’t take kindly to it, so the Pinkertons are still on the case. And this was arson, you know. We cannot let that go.”
“More investigation by the Pinkertons uncovered a similar pattern of criminal activities in other major cities. Someone, using different identities in each city, had worked his way across the country from east to west. According to victims interviewed by the Pinkertons, a very genteel man with ‘sure-fire’ investment opportunities charmed well-heeled clients in each situation. The description of the man is essentially the same, city to city. And matches that of Franklin.”
Joy was both fascinated and repulsed by what she heard. “And Franklin now? Do they know where he is?”
“Franklin is no simpleton. He is well organized and his schemes are all always very short-lived, easily cashed out. He even turns a profit on his protection schemes by selling them to other outfits from back east—thus giving them a foothold where they hadn’t operated before.”
“We found that he never intended to stay in Omaha—just fleece as many as he could and then disappear. That has been his pattern in other cities. As soon as he sold your properties, he vanished. All the Pinkertons found was an empty office and a trail of indignant investors. Oh, and the bodies of Robertson and Percher. Since they had both testified at your trial, Franklin knew the police would eventually seize them and pressure them for information. Apparently Franklin leaves no witnesses.”
“The Pinkertons know he left Omaha with a sizable amount of cash. Reports are that he headed south, but they are also following a lead west. To Denver.”
Joy’s heart jumped into her throat.
“Not to worry, Joy. First of all, this is a man who lives in the shadows. He has nothing personal against you and you cannot identify him. Besides, you are not in Denver and no longer go by the name of Michaels.”
Arnie changed the subject. “By the way, the City of Omaha is a little nervous about you.”
“About me?” Joy didn’t understand.
“It is more than apparent now that Franklin burned you out, framed you to take the fall for the arson, and then further defrauded you by orchestrating the sale of your properties at bargain prices. The City, when it jumped according to Franklin’s plan, became an unwitting accomplice to his crimes—that and a few city council members may have profited under the table from the arrangement.”
“The judge who presided over your trial has been more than a little vocal, publicly taking the City to task for its overzealousness and raising the possibility of criminal behavior by a few officials. That investigation is ongoing. He has suggested that perhaps the City is liable to you for damages.”
Joy was stunned. Arnie withdrew a fine linen envelope from his breast pocket and extended it to her. Joy couldn’t help it—she flinched from it as surely as if he had held out a scorpion. She doubted she would ever willingly touch a linen envelope again!
“It’s all right, Joy. This is a letter from the mayor of Omaha. An apology—of sorts. And a little something more than that. In any event, you should know that you have been fully exonerated in the community’s eyes. You are welcome in Omaha, should you ever choose to return.”
He continued to hold out the envelope. At last Joy touched it, felt the smooth elegance of the paper, and finally took it in her hand.
She stared at it for several moments before finally opening it.
The letter was short but kindly written. What fell out of the letter into her lap is what truly amazed her. It was a check.
“The amount is the difference between what Franklin paid for your properties and what he sold them for—the fair value you should have received,” Arnie told her. “You will notice that the letter is carefully crafted. The City of Omaha does not take responsibility for what befell you or how you were treated. It is written with a conciliatory tone. I believe the check is meant to placate you, should you think of suing the City for how you were basically run out of town, even after you were found ‘not guilty’ in a court of law.”
“Oh. And as your attorney I have contacted your insurance company with the evidence the Pinkertons uncovered. I have formally warned them to pay on the policy forthwith.”
Joy nodded, still staring at the check. Her head was whirling. The amount was enough to cover what she had already laid out on Corinth Mountain Lodge and its refurbishment. It was as if she had spent nothing on it.
She met Arnie’s eyes and smiled a small, crooked smile. “You know, coming here and believing that the Lord is in what we are doing has been frightening and more than a little overwhelming. However, apparently God himself has paid for this lodge.” She looked down on the check again and thought about what Arnie had said regarding the insurance on the store.
She got a faraway look on her face. “Yes. God himself has paid for this place—and more. This is confirmation, don’t you think? We are on the right track.”
Arnie, David, and Billy tackled unpacking the crates and boxes the next morning while Joy, Uli, and Breona determined how the furnishings would be arranged. David and Uli’s boys, Sam and Seth, carried the wood crates around back and stacked them by the kitchen door. There Mr. Wheatley methodically removed all the nails and tacks and reduced the wood to kindling. Little Ruth Kalbørg ran simple errands and generally managed to stay out from underfoot as the pieces of furniture were uncrated.
Marit, already slowed by the weight of her growing baby, came to a complete standstill as the elegant pieces to a dining room suite were unpacked. Her hands cautiously and then lovingly stroked the polished woods.
“Pretty posh, eh?” Breona joked in her usual merry manner. Marit shook her head in wonder as each piece was revealed.
Under Joy’s direction, the men laid carpets in the clean guest rooms and set up bedsteads and mattresses. Later they hauled chifferobes, dressing tables, and men’s valets to the rooms, shifting them about as Joy and Uli discussed the optimal positioning of each piece. David diplomatically pointed out Arnie’s reddening face to Uli as he struggled to control his impatience. Joy and Uli exchanged amused grins.
“Over there, please,” Joy commanded Arnie. It was the third time he had muscled the same piece of furniture to a new location. Joy and Uli both burst into laughter as Arnie sputtered and tried not to explode.
“Cousin,” Joy said in a conciliatory tone but her eyes still laughing. “You will be sleeping in one of these beds this evening and not on the hard floor. Think of how it will feel to be soothed by Egyptian cotton sheets and warmed by a silk-covered goose-down comforter tonight.”
“Sounds good, now that you mention it,” Arnie replied, his normally even nature instantly restored.
After the bedroom furniture had been placed, they laid carpets in the great room and set the parlor furnishings on one end. Two dining tables and their chairs were placed on the opposite end nearer the kitchen. All of the men lifting together moved a majestic china hutch and matching sideboard against a wall in the dining area.
Marit was beside herself when Joy asked her to unpack two beautiful sets of dishes and an elegant tea service and place them in the hutch. Breona helped her arrange table cloths, napkins, serving pieces, and silver in the cavernous drawers and cupboards of the sideboard. Breona was accustomed to handling fine things for the families she had worked for, but Marit, who had neither seen nor touched such richness, handled each piece with both fear and wonder.
In the morning the entire household went to church together. It was a long walk and the air was crisp, but the women in particular enjoyed the security and freedom of movement that having three men in the group afforded them. It was probably too long of a walk for Marit in her condition, however. Joy determined, with her new influx of funds, to buy a wagon and two horses as soo
n as suitable ones could be found. And somehow they would have to afford a more genteel conveyance for guests when they began arriving.
Marit seemed to genuinely look forward to Sunday services. She had made a few friends and, although the situation was awkward, was beginning to believe that she might be accepted in the church as a mother without a husband. Because David and Uli had diplomatically explained her circumstances to the pillars of their church, no one had asked Marit embarrassing questions.
Breona, on the other hand, was a continuing puzzle to Joy. Although free to make her own choices, she willingly took part in morning devotions and came along to church—all the while holding herself aloof. Normally gregarious and social, Breona stood off to the side before and after services, her snapping black eyes daring anyone to speak to her. Joy wondered if she came only to watch over Marit. She was only a few years older than Marit and perhaps half her size, but Breona was something of a mother hen to the sweet, simple girl, and would not allow anyone or anything to hurt her if she could prevent it.
Joy and the girls rode back home in the Kalbørg’s wagon while the men and David and Uli’s boys walked behind them. Sunday dinner was a happy though disorganized event. So much of the house was still in disarray. Their party of 11 squeezed in around the larger of the two dining tables that normally seated eight. They dined on roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and thick, rich gravy over Marit’s hot biscuits, mixing fine china with a cast-iron Dutch oven. Dessert was apple pie and slices of cheddar accompanied by sweet coffee—served in tin cups.
Plain or elegant, it didn’t matter: The meal around that table was a festive affair. Breona teased Samuel and Seth mercilessly, and little Ruthie followed Marit everywhere. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and a contented light danced in Mr. Wheatley’s tired old eyes. Billy didn’t say much; Joy was happy to see he was the same smiling, good natured young man she had known before.
“As much as I have enjoyed these few days, I will need to return home soon,” Arnie announced over coffee.
“But you only arrived Friday evening!” Uli protested.
He nodded. “I’ll stay another day—I can see how much still needs to be done—but I need to start home Tuesday. The important thing is that Anna and I can be more assured about Joy’s little endeavor here in Corinth.”
“Little endeavor!” Joy bristled but laughed too. “We’ll see.”
~~**~~
Chapter 22
November 1908
Over the next two weeks they brought the lodge into working order. Billy and Mr. Wheatley moved into the room behind the kitchen. Joy, Breona, and Marit settled into their finished and newly furnished apartment in the attic. Breona and Marit delighted in their new fittings. Marit’s room, in addition to a bed and armoire, also held a cradle and a tiny dresser filled with newborn clothing. When Joy had given her the box containing the baby things Anna had selected, Marit and Breona had spent a delighted hour exclaiming over each item.
Thanksgiving was only a week away and the weather was cold. Joy was grateful that they hadn’t yet received much snow, but it was inevitable.
That morning Billy had escorted Breona and Marit to the grocers. Mr. Wheatley and Joy had taken a loaf of fresh bread to Flinty. Mr. Wheatley, with Joy’s urging, had given into Flinty’s plea for “just one game” of checkers. Mr. Wheatley walked Joy home and hustled back to Flinty’s. Joy found herself alone in the lodge for the first time.
She critically examined the great room, now furnished as parlor on one side and dining area on the other. How would wealthy guests view it? She rearranged several knickknacks and decided a few wall hangings were needed. She was making another list when she heard boots on the front porch.
The two men who strode in did not knock. They were large and rough and Joy was alone.
The smaller of the men stood by the door as if waiting instructions. Joy immediately recognized the other. Darrow strolled around the room, touching the furnishings, picking up objects with his ham-sized hands and setting them down carelessly. He concluded his examination in front of her. Something in the set of his mouth made Joy go still.
She was in trouble. Why had she broken her own rule and allowed herself to be cornered here alone? Then she thought of Mr. Wheatley confronting this mountain of a man and knew it would have ended badly for her friend.
“Thought you were so smart in Denver, didn’t you, lady?” Darrow’s hair was still greasy. He still stank and Joy shrank back from the stench. “We know you brought those two women here. You know they belong to us. Let’s just say the present situation ain’t permanent.”
Joy straightened her spine. “Those girls will never ‘belong’ to anyone, you, you . . .” Joy’s vocabulary failed her but her courage did not. “However you threaten us, you will not have them. Now get out of my lodge!”
Darrow turned to the other man who immediately kicked over an end table. It splintered and the items on it shattered on the floor.
“What’s going on here, Darrow?” A lanky figure wearing a Stetson and a badge loomed in the doorway.
Darrow’s eyes narrowed. “Sheriff. Surprised to see you here.”
“I’m more surprised to see you here. Looking for lodgings?” The man’s face was weathered and lined yet he was not an old man—and he seemed to wear his authority easily.
He took his hat off and nodded at Joy. “Sheriff Duane Wyndom, ma’am. Sorry I haven’t been over to introduce myself sooner.”
Joy nodded back, quaking with relief. “Pleased to meet you, Sheriff Wyndom. I’m Joy Thoresen.”
“These men bothering you, ma’am? What happened to this table?”
Before Joy could answer, Darrow guffawed. “Damn! I swear, ol’ Harold here was born in a barn. Not used to walkin’ around fancy stuff—just kicked that little table right over, Sheriff. Purely accidental-like, right, Harold?”
“You watch your tongue around the lady, Darrow,” Wyndom’s tone did not leave room for disagreement.
“Why, I beg your pardon, miss. And, of course, we’ll pay for the damages.”
Darrow immediately drew a wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a sheaf of notes. He handed them toward Joy, but she refused to touch the extended bills. Darrow shrugged and let them flutter to the floor.
“We’ll just be on our way, Sheriff.” Darrow jerked his chin toward Harold.
“I don’t want to see you here again, Darrow. For any reason.”
Darrow looked aggrieved and managed to smirk at the same time. “Why do you have to take that tone, Sheriff? After all . . . we’re basically on the same team, right?”
The sheriff’s jaw tightened but he did not take the bait. “You don’t come here again, Darrow, or any of your crew. Got that? Not for any reason.”
Darrow shrugged his massive shoulders. “Well, all right. No need to get testy. I’ll be sure to give the boss your message.”
“You do that.” Wyndom’s jaw clenched so tightly Joy thought his teeth would crack.
As Darrow and the other man stomped away, Joy sank onto a sofa. Wyndom picked up the money and counted it. “This enough for the breakage, miss?”
Joy just shook her head dismissively. “I don’t care. I don’t want it.”
Sheriff Wyndom laid the money on a chair anyway. “Money doesn’t grow on trees. You got a broom around here?”
“I, um, thank you, but there’s no need. I’ll clear it up . . . soon as I catch my breath.”
He nodded. “My office is over on Main Street, kitty-corner from the town square. If Darrow or any of that crew comes around again, I want to know right away.”
“I am so grateful, Sheriff Wyndom. How . . . how did you happen to be here at just the right time?”
“Didn’t ‘happen’. I keep my eyes on that one. I’ve recruited a few of the boys in town to be my eyes and ears, too. One of them let me know they heard Darrow talking about coming over here, that you were by yourself.” He looked at Joy a little quizzically. “Not sure what you�
��re about doing here in Corinth, miss. But I am sure that the wrong people are paying attention.”
Joy flushed. “I, ah, well it’s a lodge, as you can see. We’ll be in business soon and will have paying customers coming to Corinth for the fresh air and the views . . .”
Wyndom still looked skeptical. “I know what goes on in this town, Miss Thoresen. To my shame, I know it. And there’s not a lot I can do about it. Seems to me you’ve stepped into something you might regret.”
Joy didn’t have an answer. Wyndom slapped his hat on his knee and put it back on his head. “You’ve got a couple of men working for you. The young one is fit enough, but the other is too old to be much protection. If you’d like some additional muscle, I can recommend one or two respectable young men looking for work.”
Joy nodded. “I’d like that.”
The sheriff touched his hat to her. “I’ll have them come by one at a time so you can speak to them. I think you know not to be alone . . . like this . . . again?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
The faces around the table that evening were grim as Joy related what happened. Mr. Wheatley, red with shame, was beside himself. “It’s my fault, Mrs. Michaels! No way should I have left you here while I went to play checkers!”
Joy put her hand on his and said gently. “Mr. Wheatley, what would you have done if you had been here? Two against one . . .” She let the implications go unspoken without bringing up his age, but he was not fooled.
“I might be just an old man but, but I can handle a gun!”
Joy grew stern. “No, Mr. Wheatley. I’ll not have you doing that. You are not here as a bodyguard, like Billy is. You are here to help us manage the lodge. We need you for that—we cannot do without you for that. No, I will take the sheriff’s suggestion and hire another man for security. And we will strictly follow our own rules—none of us goes anywhere alone. Am I understood?”
Joy on This Mountain (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) Page 15