Copper Sunrise

by Carol Cox

  Her father was next. Catherine leaned into his hug and rested her cheek against his chest for a moment, breathing in the scent of the outdoors she always associated with him.

  “How’s my girl?” he asked.

  Catherine gave him a bright smile. “I couldn’t be better.”

  She looked over his shoulder and caught sight of her mother looking at Mitch, then exchanging nods with Ben. Her heart sank. It wasn’t only Ben who assumed she and Mitch were an item.

  What could she do? She could hardly mortify them both by making an announcement to the effect that there was nothing between them, let alone explain why. All she could do was put up a good front and hope she could carry it through until they left in the morning. She only hoped Mitch didn’t pick up on the signals that flew around the room like a flock of swallows.

  “Where are Grandma and Grandpa?”

  “Alex is bringing them out in the buggy,” her father said. “They ought to be here any time now.”

  Her mother looked at her proudly. “I can’t tell you how excited they’ve been ever since you called. This was a wonderful idea.”

  Catherine smiled, hoping her impulsive offer wouldn’t turn into a major embarrassment for both her and Mitch.

  The buggy rattled into the yard moments later. Alex sprang from the seat and helped the older couple down.

  Grandma gave Catherine a quick hug then hurried over to the car. “So this is what we’ll be driving back in? What a lovely thing for you to do, you and your. . .” She broke off, her gaze fixed on a point beyond Catherine’s shoulder. “This must be—”

  “This is Mitch Brewer, Grandma. Mitch, my grandmother, Mrs. O’Roarke.”

  Mitch tipped his hat. “How do you do?”

  Grandma’s eyes gleamed, and she turned half away from Mitch to give Catherine a wink. “Let’s go inside where it’s warmer, shall we? These old bones don’t take the cold like they used to.” She left them to join the rest of the family on the porch.

  Alex remained beside the buggy until the flurry of greetings ended. Then he stepped forward and took Catherine’s hands in his. Assuming a mournful expression, he said, “What a shame. I got rid of my ant collection just before I heard you were coming.” He tweaked one of her curls and grinned. Catherine made a face at him.

  “Then I heard old Mitch was coming with you,” Alex went on, “and I knew I had to be here to say hello to both of you.” He gripped Mitch’s hand. “It’s great to see you! Who’d have thought my letter would have wound up bringing you two together like this?”

  Catherine sought the refuge of the house before Mitch made his response. “Ben, why don’t you help move Grandma and Grandpa’s bags over to the car?” She turned to her grandmother. “Are you sure you packed everything you’ll need?”

  “Everything and then some,” her grandfather put in.

  The older woman’s eyes danced. “I even brought a gown for the statehood ball and made your grandpa pack his best suit. We used to have grand balls at my home in Philadelphia when I was growing up, but I haven’t attended an event like that since my youth.” She looked straight at Catherine. “You are planning to go, aren’t you?”

  Catherine stretched her stiff lips into what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Sure, Grandma. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Her father called out, “You can get those bags later, Ben. Your mother is calling everyone in to supper. We need to get things settled for the night so our travelers can make an early start in the morning.”

  ❧

  “I think that’s everything.” Alex helped Mitch tie the O’Roarkes’ luggage onto the back of the touring car and leaned against the fender. “So how are things going between you and my ‘little sis’? As if that wasn’t pretty obvious,” he added with a grin.

  “It isn’t what you think.” Mitch propped his foot up on the running board, glad for the chance to confide in his friend. “I thought we had something special, but. . .”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Mitch looked down at the ground then nodded. He poured out the story of their disagreement, leaving out names and specifics of the investigation that brought their relationship to a standstill. His voice trailed off. “I felt like we’d really connected, but I guess I was wrong. We just don’t see eye to eye on matters of honor.”

  Alex let the silence stretch out before he responded. “It’s there. I’ve known Catherine all her life. Maybe this move to the city has knocked her for a loop, but I’m willing to bet it’s just temporary.” He landed a light punch on Mitch’s shoulder. “Give her some time. She’ll come around. I’d bank on it.”

  Seventeen

  “I’m so glad you came, Grandma.” Catherine settled herself in the overstuffed chair in her grandparents’ room at the Bellmont. Their obvious pleasure in the brocade wallpaper and elegant furnishings made her glad she hadn’t reneged on her promise to them.

  “I’m glad, too.” Her grandmother tested the mattress of the four-poster bed and gave a nod of approval. She sighed as she sank into the chair opposite Catherine’s. “I’m a bit more tired than I’d like to admit, but I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

  “I’d better leave, then, and let you get some rest.” Catherine started to get up, but her grandmother held up her hand.

  “No, stay awhile. I want to talk to you while we have some time to ourselves. Your grandpa won’t stay out looking the town over forever.”

  Catherine resumed her seat, wondering what was coming.

  “What’s troubling you, child?”

  “Me? Why, nothing. I’m having a marvelous time being here with the two of you.”

  “It’s no use trying to hide it from your grandmother. I may be getting up in years, but I still have eyes like an eagle’s and the tenacity of a bulldog. Even more, to hear your grandfather tell it.” She chuckled then regarded Catherine steadily. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really. Things have been busy at work, and I have a lot on my mind. I’m sorry I let it intrude on our time together.”

  “Ah. And here I could have sworn it had something to do with you and Mitch. I thought at first there was something between the two of you. But then I wasn’t so sure. Which is it?”

  Catherine shrugged. “First there was; now there isn’t.” She gave a wobbly laugh. “You’re right on both counts.”

  “I see. I wondered what was going on, but I didn’t think it was my place to ask, although your grandfather says that never stopped me yet.” She tilted her head to one side. “So what happened?”

  “We. . .disagreed on the proper way to handle something. Mitch felt our difference of opinion was serious enough that we shouldn’t be anything more than friends.” She closed her eyes against the sting of tears. Just voicing the fact brought home the finality of their situation.

  “And do you think he was wrong?”

  The question took Catherine aback. “I’m not sure. What do you mean?”

  Her grandmother folded her hands and settled back in her chair. “Let me ask you something else you’ll probably think is none of my business. Setting talk of your relationship with Mitch aside for the moment, how are things going in the rest of your life? Church, for instance.”

  The breath whooshed out of Catherine’s lungs. She should have expected that. When her grandmother insisted on attending a worship service that morning, she had taken them to Mattie’s church, little dreaming the pastor would greet her effusively and comment on her prolonged absence.

  “Well,” she began, “I haven’t had much time. I’ve been so busy. . . .” She hung her head. “I guess I haven’t done too well in that department. But that doesn’t mean I’m not close to the Lord.” She looked earnestly into her grandmother’s eyes. “I don’t have to be sitting in a pew to worship Him.”

  Her grandmother nodded, unperturbed. “That’s very true. However, it strikes me as a symptom of what may be wrong. The Bible tells us not to forsake assembling together, and there’s a r
eason for that.” She pressed her palms together then spread them apart. “Just like a coal pulled from the fire will quickly lose its heat, when we let ourselves be pulled away from spending time with other believers, we can lose our fervor for God. Once that happens, it’s easy to let attitudes slip into your life that you never would have allowed there before.”

  Catherine stared, wide-eyed. “And you think I’ve let that happen to me?”

  “I’m not the one to determine that. I’m just saying that when your standing with God is on solid ground, you can trust Him to take care of your other relationships as well.” She pursed her lips. “You say Mitch is a man of integrity. Has he done anything to act in a way contrary to that?”

  “No. Well, maybe. And that’s my fault.”

  Her grandmother raised one eyebrow.

  Catherine let her breath out in a long sigh. “I can’t give you all the details. I asked him to wait on breaking a story he felt needed to be written right away.”

  “And was it important for the story to come out that quickly?”

  Catherine squirmed in her chair. “It was more than the story, you see. We disagreed on the way to handle some of the facts relating to it, things that could cause a lot of problems for innocent people if they weren’t dealt with correctly.”

  Her grandmother nodded. “That’s a serious issue. Have you resolved it?”

  “Not exactly.” Catherine heard the tremor in her voice and swallowed hard. “I asked him to give me time to figure out the right thing to do. He agreed, but he felt like he compromised himself by doing that.”

  “Then you need to make up your mind to follow the right course of action, and I have a feeling you already know what that is.”

  “I have a feeling you may be right.”

  When Catherine stood to leave, her grandmother rested a hand on her arm. “Remember this: No matter what you decide, I will always love you. And I’ll be praying for you.”

  ❧

  “Are you ready to leave?” Mattie peeked around the doorway to Catherine’s office.

  “No, you go ahead. I’ll be along later.”

  Mattie stepped inside and leaned against the doorjamb. “Mr. Showalter isn’t having a meeting tonight, is he?”

  “No.” Catherine shook her head. “I just. . .have some things I need to take care of.”

  Mattie scanned the painfully neat desk. “Uh-huh. I can see you have scads of work to do.”

  Catherine pressed her lips into a thin line. “It may not look like it to you, but I have plenty of work to see to, and I need time alone to do it.”

  Mattie planted her fist on her hip. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been jumpy ever since you went out to run that mysterious errand of yours after lunch.”

  “I can’t tell you right now.” She glanced at the connecting door to Mr. Showalter’s office and lowered her voice. “Mattie would you just leave now? Please?”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll lock up when I leave. See you at dinner, assuming you make it home by then.” Her quick steps clicked along the hallway floor as she went out.

  Catherine leaned her elbows on her desk and pressed her fingers against her eyes. She hated having Mattie angry with her, but there was no help for it. What she had to do would be hard enough without any of her coworkers around.

  Help me get through this, Lord. A sense of calm settled over her, the first she had experienced that afternoon. It felt good to be back on speaking terms with the Lord.

  Most of the night before had been spent thinking about what her grandmother had said, getting her spiritual house in order, and wrestling with the choices set before her. It took long hours of prayer and a flood of tears, but at last she reached her decision. She barely settled her head on her pillow before the first faint fingers of light crept through her window.

  Grandma had been right: She knew the truth. In her heart she guessed she’d known it all along. And with that knowledge came the certainty of what she needed to do.

  After the long struggle ended, she thought she would experience a measure of peace, but setting out on her “errand,” as Mattie called it, proved to be one of the most difficult things she had ever done. She had managed it, though. The die was cast—she’d seen to that. Now all she had to do was wait.

  She heard Mr. Showalter moving about his office, and her breath caught in her throat. He couldn’t be getting ready to leave! Not yet.

  A knock rattled the front door, and she breathed again. The time had come.

  ❧

  “Go ahead, Miss O’Roarke.”

  Catherine looked at the tall man beside her, seeking to draw assurance from his air of authority. She glanced past him to the group of uniformed policeman, then nodded and swallowed against the knot building in her throat.

  She had tried to prepare herself for this moment all day, but how could a person ever be prepared for playing the role of a traitor?

  She tapped on the heavy office door then stepped inside. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  Mr. Showalter looked up and frowned when the men crowded through the door behind her. “What is all this?”

  The tall man reached inside his overcoat and withdrew a folded paper. “I’m Randall Donovan from the district attorney’s office. I have a warrant here for your arrest for complicity in the murder of Edgar Wheeler.”

  Catherine watched her employer closely, wondering what his response would be. She had imagined shock, fear, anger. To her surprise, he seemed utterly unruffled by the news.

  He rose calmly and faced his visitors, then glanced down at his desk and picked up a stack of files. “Catherine, would you mind putting these away while I visit with these gentlemen?”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. This was not the response of a guilty man. What have I done? Sick at heart, she crossed the office and reached out to take the files from him.

  Before her fingers touched them, she saw the folders drop to the floor. Mr. Showalter lunged forward and seized her by the wrist. Whirling her around, he twisted her arm behind her and pulled it up tight behind her back.

  Pain seared her shoulder when he jerked her toward him, and Catherine cried out. Then she saw a flash of metal and felt the edge of a blade pressed against her throat.

  The policemen started forward then froze when they saw the knife.

  Showalter’s voice lost nothing of its calm. “If you gentlemen would be so good as to move away from the door, this young lady and I would like to leave now.”

  Catherine heard a whimper gurgle from her throat. Mr. Showalter pulled her arm higher, and she bit her lip until she tasted blood.

  Donovan leveled a steady gaze at him. “Let her go and come quietly, Showalter. You’re only making it worse for yourself.”

  “So you say. I think I’ll take my chances.” His voice sharpened. “Stay back, now. We’re leaving. Don’t make a move, or you’ll have this girl’s blood on your hands.”

  He pushed Catherine forward. She tried to make her numb legs move.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Donovan barked. He made a sharp gesture. “Take him, men.”

  Catherine felt the knife blade tighten against her throat and closed her eyes, praying that death would be mercifully quick. Instead of dragging her farther, Showalter shoved her forward into the knot of men, then bolted for the door.

  Catherine collided with the grim-faced policemen, and they landed in a tangle of limbs. She heard feet pounding down the hallway, then the sounds of a violent scuffle.

  A voice called back, “We’ve got him, Mr. Donovan.”

  “Good. Hang on to him.” Donovan got to his feet and helped Catherine up. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, cradling her right arm. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire.

  “Thanks for your help. We need more citizens like you. We’ve been looking his way for some time, but we didn’t have anything solid to go on until you contacted us. We’ll need your help going through the files tomorrow. Will you be up to
that?”

  Catherine nodded again, unable to find her voice. Mitch had been right all along. If she were honest, she’d had plenty of doubts herself once she saw that note from Seth Kincaid.

  She summoned up a tired smile. “I’ll be fine. I found some other things this afternoon while I was waiting for you. I’ll show them to you then.”

  She let Donovan out and started to pick up the papers the men had strewn across the reception area in their struggle. Then she dropped them back where they lay. She could take care of it later. All she wanted to do now was go home.

  She locked the door behind her and set off on the familiar route along Jefferson. No Mitch stood waiting for her, but then she hadn’t expected him to. Those days were a thing of the past.

  Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She had done the right thing—finally. She ought to feel glad of that. But all she could think about was what her delayed actions had cost her.

  Eighteen

  February 14, 1912—Arizona Statehood Day

  “They dedicated the building eleven years ago. There was supposed to be a copper dome on the top, but the money ran out. Maybe they’ll add one someday.”

  Catherine led her grandparents around to the front of the capitol grounds, where a crowd was gathering in anticipation of the official word that Arizona had become the nation’s forty-eighth state.

  “That’s quite a building.” Her grandfather peered at the imposing edifice. “See that stone on the second and third floors? I hear that came from up our way in Yavapai County.”

  While he wandered off for a closer look, Catherine’s grandmother looked at her keenly. “Are you all right, dear? You look a little peaked.”

  “I’m fine, Grandma.”

  A tiny furrow formed between the older woman’s brows. “Are you sure? You had to work so late last night. I was worried about you being rested enough for today.”

  “I can handle a short night now and then. I’m fine, really.” Her grandparents had heard nothing about Monday’s uproar at Southwestern Land and Investments, much less the long hours she’d spent on Tuesday assisting Mr. Donovan in his detailed scrutiny of the company’s files. If Catherine had her way, they never would.