Truth Be Told

by Carol Cox

  “After I confronted my boss about the contracts in question, I tried to locate the land owners. They seem to have disappeared.” Ben spread his hands wide. “I know that doesn’t give you anything tangible to go on, but Owen Merrick is up to something, I’d stake everything I own on that.”

  “Owen Merrick,” the sheriff said slowly. His eyes took on a far-away look.

  Ben’s interest quickened. “Does that name mean something to you?”

  “It might.” Lowry fished through a disorderly stack of papers on his desk and pulled out a sheet of handwritten notes. He scanned them a moment, then looked back up at Ben. “I’ve been looking into the disappearance of Arthur Copeland, a board member of the Peavine Railroad. He vanished under rather peculiar circumstances, and we haven’t been able to find a trace of him.”

  When he saw Ben’s confusion, he added, “Owen Merrick has been appointed to fill the opening on the board created by Copeland’s absence.”

  Ben’s thoughts raced. “That would mean he could influence the route of the new line from Prescott to Phoenix.”

  Lowry grunted. “Disappearing landowners, disappearing board member . . . I’d say this idea of yours is worth looking into.”

  Ben stared at him. “Do you think Merrick had something to do with getting Arthur Copeland out of the way to create that opening on the board?”

  “I plan to find out.” Lowry rose and reached for his Stetson. “I’m going to round up some of my deputies and head up to Granite Springs this afternoon.”

  It took every ounce of self-control Ben possessed to hold back a shout of triumph. “I’m catching the train back. I’ll see you when you arrive.”

  Lowry checked his pocket watch and pursed his lips. “Seeing as how the train leaves in thirty minutes, I think we’ll load our horses on one of the stock cars and ride up with you. We’ll get there faster that way, and the horses will be fresh.”

  Ben picked up his satchel and grinned. “In that case, I’ll meet you at the station.”

  The bristly hemp twine bit into Amelia’s wrists as she stared into the darkness. How long had it been since the door had closed behind Owen Merrick, confining her to this dismal room? It seemed like an eternity, although reason told her it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours.

  She scooted across the plank floor for what seemed like the thousandth time, in search of anything she could use to free herself from her bonds. She had explored the items on the bottom shelf and along the floor as well as she could with her hands anchored behind her back, but her fingers encountered nothing sharp enough to cut or even wear through the cord Eddie Franklin had secured around her wrists and ankles.

  Working her way to the wall, she managed to push herself into a sitting position, hoping the maneuver would help her breathe more easily. She leaned her head back against the rough wall, trying to ignore the sting of the raw skin on her wrists as she took stock of her situation.

  Is this the end, Lord? Tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. I had such dreams, so many hopes and plans for my life. Does this mean I’ll never have a family of my own? The image of Ben’s face swam into her mind. What would have happened between them if she had given in to her heart’s yearning instead of letting her obsession with this story get in the way?

  Would she never again walk into the newspaper office to see Homer’s dear face light up with a smile or hear Jimmy’s latest idea for an earth-shaking story?

  Sobs racked her body. What a fool she’d been! Why had she ever let herself believe she could beard a lion in his den without being torn to pieces? Owen Merrick wasn’t just a crooked businessman. He was a murderer, and he intended to add her to his list of victims—this very day, from the sound of the plans he was making with Eddie Franklin.

  She had no time to waste. There had to be something in this tiny room that could help her get free. Maybe she could find something on one of the higher shelves, if she could only reach them. Digging her heels into the floorboards, she pressed against the wall and inched her way upward until she stood upright. Taking a moment to steady her balance, she made one tentative hop, then another, into the blackness in the direction of the shelves. On the third hop, the hem of her skirt tangled in her feet. With a muffled cry, she toppled over onto her knees, then fell forward.

  Lying with her face against the wooden floor, she felt despair well up within her. How much longer would it be until Merrick and his odious henchman returned to carry out their plan to throw her down a mineshaft near Bart McCaffrey’s reservoir?

  A sound from beyond the door jolted her fully alert. With her heart pounding in her chest, Amelia rolled across the plank floor and pressed her ear to the wall that adjoined the passageway. Voices. Footsteps.

  They were coming.

  A moment later, the door swung open, and Amelia blinked against the light.

  “Kinda dusty, isn’t she?” Eddie Franklin chuckled and prodded her shoulder with the toe of his boot. “What have you been doing—worming around and trying to get loose?”

  “Enough of that.” Owen Merrick’s voice sounded taut and strained. “We have a job to do. Let’s get on with it.”

  Amelia peered up at the men silhouetted in the doorway. Merrick stood just outside the door watching Franklin, who held an oversized burlap bag in his hands.

  With a flip of his hand, Franklin tossed the bag to Merrick, then bent down over Amelia. She caught her breath as he seized her arms in a rough grip and hauled her to her feet. Pain shot through her strained muscles, and she uttered a low cry. Ignoring her misery, Franklin wrapped his arms around her from behind and lifted her off her feet.

  Merrick frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “Open the bag and slip it up over her feet,” Franklin grunted. He held her dangling in the air while Merrick worked the bag up over her body, then he dropped her back onto her feet.

  Amelia tottered but tried to pull away from his grasp. Holding her steady with one hand, Franklin lifted his other arm. “Settle down. Remember what happened last time?”

  She flinched away from his upraised hand. How could this be happening? And yet it was. She felt as if she had stepped into a nightmare and couldn’t wake up. Her vision dimmed, and her knees gave way.

  Franklin released his grasp and let her sink to the floor. Pulling the open end of the bag up over her head, he made quick work of tying it shut.

  Amelia tipped her head back and struggled to breathe. If the air in the storeroom had seemed stifling, this was far worse.

  “There you go,” Franklin said. “Tied up as neat as a Christmas package. If you’ll give me a hand, boss, we’ll pick her up so we can carry her out.” Hands took hold of her through the rough burlap, raising her up and balancing her on her bound feet again.

  “I don’t know about this.” Merrick sounded skeptical. “She may be hidden by that bag, but if she wriggles around, it will still attract notice. That’s why I wanted to wait until after dark.”

  Inside her dark cocoon, Amelia felt a glimmer of renewed hope. She might not be able to see out of her burlap prison, but others could see the bag—and any movement from within it. If she could manage to create enough of a stir to alert passersby, there might still be a chance for rescue. She braced herself to take advantage of what might be her last opportunity for escape.

  Behind her, Eddie Franklin snickered. “That won’t be a problem. I told you I’d figure something out.”

  The next moment, something crashed against the back of Amelia’s head, and the world went black.

  Chapter 31

  Ben eyed the platform, hoping for a glimpse of Amelia as the train pulled into the Granite Springs station. She often met the train to see if anyone newsworthy had arrived in town, but apparently not this day. He swallowed his disappointment and turned to Sheriff Lowry. “I appreciate you hearing me out and acting on the information I brought you. If you need me, I’ll either be at my boardinghouse or the Gazette.”

  The lawman no
dded and led his deputies back toward the stock car to unload their horses. Ben headed down First Street toward the Gazette building. As he walked, he wondered what kind of reception he would receive. Would Amelia welcome him with a smile and a sparkle in her blue eyes? Or would she feel more inclined to throw a composing stick at him?

  He rubbed the back of his neck. Surely two days would have given her time to calm down . . . he hoped. But even if she wasn’t happy to see him, she would want to hear the news he brought. When he reached the newspaper office, he shifted his satchel to his left hand and pushed the door open.

  Homer looked up when he stepped inside, and a wide grin split his face. “It’s about time the two of you showed up. I was beginning to wonder how long it was going to take for you to mend your differences.” He leaned to one side and peered past Ben.

  Ben frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean. I just got back from Prescott. Do you know where Amelia is?”

  The grin slid from Homer’s face. “I thought she was with you. She went out to look for you quite a while ago.” He glanced at the clock, and his brow furrowed. “Going on three hours.”

  He turned back to Ben. “She probably just got on the trail of some story, but it makes me uneasy, not hearing from her for that long.” Pulling off his printer’s apron, he tossed it onto the counter. “Maybe we ought to go look for her. I’ll feel better if I know where she is.”

  Catching Homer’s concern, Ben set his satchel down inside the door. “I’ll check at the general store. Maybe you could try the livery.”

  Homer shot a startled glance at him, then ducked his head in a grim nod. “I hope you’re wrong, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’s taken a notion to go haring off after a story on her own . . . although I hope she’d have better sense than to do something like that right now, after all the peculiar doings we’ve had going on around here lately.”

  They parted ways on the boardwalk. Ben set a rapid pace, finally breaking into a trot as he neared Emmett Kingston’s store. Inside, a quick glance showed Emmett setting cans of fruit in a neat row on the shelves near the back of the store. Ben hurried over to him. “I’m looking for Amelia. Have you seen her?”

  Emmett paused with a can of peaches in each hand. “Not today. You look worried. Is anything wrong?”

  “I hope not. If you see her, let her know Homer and I are trying to find her, will you?”

  “Sure thing.” Emmett gave a nod, then resumed stocking the shelves.

  As Ben turned to leave, Clara Gilbreth stepped into the aisle ahead of him. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Is there a problem?”

  Ben hesitated. He didn’t want to create needless panic, but he couldn’t shake the worry that had taken root and refused to let go. Besides, Clara was Amelia’s closest friend. “I’m not sure. Homer hasn’t seen her for a while, and I want to be certain she’s all right. I just got back from Prescott with a piece of news she’ll be interested in hearing.”

  Clara regarded him with a sharp-eyed gaze that seemed to pick up on his unstated concern. Thankfully, she didn’t waste time asking questions. “I’ll be glad to help. Where have you looked so far?”

  “She wasn’t at the station or the newspaper.” Ben ticked the locations off on his fingers as he spoke. “This is the first place I’ve checked besides those. Homer went to talk to Carl Olsen at the livery.”

  Clara started for the door. “I’ll head over to Second Street and ask if anyone’s seen her at the hardware store or the bank.”

  Ben nodded his thanks and set off down the boardwalk. What next? Amelia could be anywhere, doing any number of normal, everyday activities. But he couldn’t push away the increasing feeling that something was wrong.

  He decided to try the café next. She might have stopped in for a cup of tea or a bite to eat. As he neared the Bon-Ton, he spotted a familiar figure farther along the block. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted, “Jimmy!”

  The boy wheeled around. His face lit up when he recognized Ben, and he trotted over. “When did you get back?”

  “I just came in on the train. Have you seen Miss Wagner?”

  “Yep. I talked to her earlier. She was out looking for you. I told her you’d left town, though. She wanted to know where you’d gone, but I didn’t know that . . . or when you’d be back, either.”

  Ben stifled a groan, wondering how she would have taken that news. “Where is she now?”

  The boy shrugged. “Last time I saw her, she was headed for your office.”

  Ben stiffened. “You mean the Great Western building?”

  “Sure. Your boss was standing in front of the building, and it looked like she was going to talk to him. But that was a long time ago. Right after I finished lunch.”

  Questions whirled through Ben’s mind. Focusing his gaze on Jimmy, he tried to keep his voice level. “Did you see her later?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “I had to run some errands for my ma. I didn’t see her after that.”

  Ben turned and eyed the building where he had worked for the past few months. “Thanks, Jimmy. I think I’ll go talk to Mr. Merrick and see what he can tell me.”

  “You can’t. Talk to Mr. Merrick, I mean. He went somewhere with that other man who works there—the really tall one. I saw them loading a sack of potatoes into the back of a buckboard, and then they headed out of town.”

  Ben stared at the boy. The only man at Great Western who fit that description was Eddie Franklin. He tried to imagine any reason those two would be handling a sack of vegetables—or doing anything resembling manual labor. His sense of urgency heightened, and he knelt down in front of Jimmy. “Potatoes? You’re sure?”

  “That’s what it looked like. It was a big burlap bag, about this size.” Jimmy stretched his arms out to their full width, then indicated a point above his head. He looked back at Ben and wrinkled his nose. “What else could it have been?”

  Ben struggled to force air into his lungs. He wasn’t about to tell the boy the possibility that had entered his mind. “How long ago did you see them? Which way did they go?”

  Jimmy screwed his face up, as if deep in thought. “Not more than a half hour, maybe not even that long. They took off that way.” He pointed toward Jefferson Road. “On the road that goes out toward the sawmill.”

  Dread seized Ben by the throat. He twisted around to view the street behind him, but there was no sign of Sheriff Lowry. He turned back to Jimmy. “Listen carefully. I need you to go find Mr. Crenshaw and tell him I think Merrick may have taken Miss Wagner. The sheriff and some of his deputies came to town on the train with me. They might still be at the station, unloading their horses or maybe they’re on their way to the livery. I want you and Mr. Crenshaw to find them and let them know what’s going on. Tell them I’ve gone after Merrick, and they need to follow as quickly as they can.”

  Jimmy’s eyes rounded, and his eyes lit up. “Sure thing, Mr. Stone. You can count on me.”

  Springing to his feet, Ben took a step in the direction of his boardinghouse, then jolted to a stop. He didn’t have time to fetch and saddle his horse. Spying a strong, sorrel gelding tied to the hitching rail on the other side of the street, he raced over to it. Untying the reins, he leaped into the saddle and spun the horse around. As he galloped past Jimmy, he called, “And if whoever owns this horse wants to know where it’s gone, tell him I’ll bring it back later.”

  Digging his heels into the gelding’s flanks, he turned onto Jefferson Road. When he bent low over the sorrel’s neck, urging him to greater speed, he noticed the stock of a Winchester rifle sticking out of a scabbard. Good. He had a feeling a gun might come in handy.

  For the second time, he found himself following wheel tracks out of town in search of Amelia. He stared along the length of road ahead of him, although he knew he couldn’t expect to see any sign of Merrick and Franklin yet. They had too big a head start.

  Galloping around a curve in the road, he recognized the spot where he’d come upon Amelia’s wr
ecked buggy. His throat tightened at the memory. He had been concerned for her safety that evening, but that was nothing compared to the fear that gripped him now.

  He slowed a bit when he reached the side road that branched off toward the sawmill. There was no fresh sign of any vehicle turning that way, but one clear set of wagon tracks marked the dust in the road ahead.

  Ben kicked the sorrel back into a gallop and rode on.

  Amelia winced when another blow landed on her head, and she tried to move away. Who was hitting her, and why wouldn’t he stop?

  She tried to raise her arm to protect herself, but her hands remained fixed behind her back. A flash of memory jolted her back to awareness of her plight. Eddie Franklin had tied her hands and feet. He was the one who was striking her. Another blow smote her, and pain blazed through her head again.

  A rocking motion threw her from side to side as she blinked against the pounding ache, and she realized she was lying on her back. What’s going on? Where am I? She heard the sound of horses’ hooves and the grate of a wheel on rock. Feeling through the burlap with her hands, she touched a hard surface beneath her. She must be in the back of a wagon, which meant they were already on the move.

  The knowledge chilled her. Merrick or Franklin—or both of them—were making good their threats. They were on their way to the reservoir . . . and the mineshaft nearby.

  The wagon bounced again. Amelia cried out as her throbbing head took another blow. Gathering her wits, she rolled onto her side. Every muscle in her body protested, but the maneuver afforded the wound on her head some protection.

  The jouncing slowed, then it stopped altogether. Up ahead, a horse nickered and stomped its foot. She heard a creak as the driver set the brake. Then the wagon rocked again, followed by what sounded like two sets of boots hitting the ground.

  Everything inside her seemed to turn to ice. They must have reached their destination. Fear overwhelmed her as she pondered what would happen next.