After a nice supper of pork roast, cabbage and potatoes, Annabelle went straight to the bathhouse. She filled the tub first with the buckets of cold well water that the housekeeper had drawn for her. She used an empty bucket to dip hot water from the steaming cauldron that had been heating over the fire. She stuck her toe in the tub to test the temperature. Just right, she thought. Before removing her dressing gown, she turned down the wick on her lamp. She didn’t want any peeping toms who might be wandering about to see her through the dusty but uncovered window.
She settled into the soothing warmth of the bath and closed her eyes. She had almost dozed off when she heard very clear voices and realized that someone else had entered the bathhouse. She sunk deeper into the tub. Light emanated through a cracked board in the partition between the two bathrooms. From what she could see, two men were in the next room. The man who had sat next to her on the stagecoach and another tall and muscular man moved into her line of sight. The younger man hadn’t been at dinner with them, nor had she seen him when the coach arrived.
The older man took out a jewelers’ loop and placed it against his eye.
“Show me the goods,” he said.
The younger man opened the saddlebag he’d brought with him and removed a small, canvas sack the size of the palm of his hand. He emptied the contents into his other hand. About a dozen small stones sparkled in the amber glow cast from the kerosene lantern.
“Well, is it what we think it is?” the younger man asked.
Annabelle squinted and scooted closer to the edge of the tub where she could get a better view. The older man examined the stones and inhaled a deep breath.
“These are without doubt, diamonds, Mr. Harper.” He removed the eyepiece and dropped it into his vest pocket. “I’ve never heard of any diamond deposits in the Black Hills. The only ones I know of are in Wyoming and Colorado. With all the gold-mining going on, I would’ve expected someone else to find diamonds by now.”
Mr. Harper shrugged. “So we’re the first.”
“I hope this isn’t a hoax like that one in Colorado a few years back,” the older man said. “Those men are serving lengthy sentences in federal prison.”
“It’s no hoax, Mr. Kelly,” Mr. Harper said. “One of our miners found these by accident, and we were keeping it quiet until you confirmed that these are genuine diamonds.”
When Mr. Kelly opened his valise, Annabelle understood why he’d held such a death-grip on it all the way from Tyndall. Stacks of currency filled the case, and some paperwork rested on top of the money. Mr. Kelly removed the papers and handed them to Mr. Harper.
“Twenty-thousand is my offer for the mine. I assume you have full Power of Attorney to make the transaction.”
The younger man took an envelope from the saddlebag. “Here’s the owner’s signature, signed and notarized.”
Mr. Kelly examined the paper. “It seems to be proper and legal.”
He handed the paper back to Mr. Harper who stuffed it into the envelope and put it back in the saddlebag.
“Then all that’s left is to sign the deed,” the older man said. “I drew this up based on the map that I received in the mail and on previous surveys I had of that property, so please understand that your signature makes you liable if the official surveys show any discrepancies.”
Mr. Harper scrawled his name on the paper and moved all of the money from Mr. Kelly’s valise to the saddlebag. Mr. Kelly dropped the pouch of diamonds and the signed deed back into his valise, closed and locked it.
“It will take a few months for me to arrange for the mining equipment,” he said. “That should give your people plenty of time to vacate the mine.”
They shook hands, and Mr. Harper took a gold watch from his pocket to check the time. He extinguished the lamp, and Annabelle heard their footsteps leaving the bathhouse in different directions.
She expelled the breath she’d been holding. Diamonds, she thought. And a king’s ransom paid for them. It was little wonder that her Aunt Julia had become a rich woman in this vast and remote land. She sat up in the tub and finished washing before the water turned cold. What an odd place to choose for a meeting? Then again, when that much money and diamonds were changing hands, discretion would be of the utmost importance. Still, she had a feeling that there was something not quite right about the whole business.
* * *
Morning came much too soon, considering that she’d spent the night tossing and turning, pondering what she’d witnessed the previous night. When she heard the bell ringing, she dressed quickly and went downstairs to breakfast.
“Where is Mr. Kelly?” she asked Daisy.
“His room was empty this morning,” she said. “And the bed was made as if he hadn’t slept in it. Perhaps, he rose early and went for a walk.”
After eating, Annabelle gathered her things and went out to the stagecoach. Four new traveling companions greeted her—a young couple named Hannah and Joshua Parsons and their twin boys. But where was Mr. Kelly? She heard the driver say to his partner that he couldn’t hold the stage any longer waiting for the man. He climbed into his seat, and gave the horses the command to move out. They didn’t get far before Daisy ran from the inn screaming.
“Help! Come quick,” she called out.
Annabelle heard the driver yell, “Whoa!” The stagecoach jerked to a stop. He climbed down out of his seat and followed Daisy back into the inn along with two of the stable hands.
“I wonder what’s wrong,” Hannah asked.
“I hope she’s not gone into labor,” Annabelle said. “From what I gathered last night, she’s the stage driver’s wife.”
A few moments later, the driver and one of the stable hands came out of the inn. Annabelle watched the stable hand saddle a horse and ride off. Daisy came out next, and while clearly distraught, she didn’t look as if she was close to giving birth. The driver led her to a porch rocker and urged her to sit down.
Joshua yanked his watch from his vest pocket to check the time. “I sure hope they get this stage moving soon,” he said.
“I see the driver coming this way,” Annabelle said.
He opened the stage door and poked his head inside. “Sorry, folks. We’re not going anywhere just yet.”
“What’s wrong?” Annabelle asked.
The driver tilted his head toward the inn. “I’m afraid there’s been a murder, ma’am. The man who was traveling with you yesterday was stabbed to death some time last night.”
She pressed her hand against her chest. Had the man’s death been a result of what she’d witnessed the night before?
After she caught her breath, she said, “And I-I may have been the last one to see him alive.”
“I’ve sent a man to Lake Andes to fetch the sheriff,” the driver said. “He’ll probably have some questions for you.”
He offered his hand to help her down from the stage.
“How long will we be stuck here?” Joshua asked. “My wife and I are supposed to be in Deadwood on Saturday for her sister’s wedding.”
The driver shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry for your troubles, but I’m not leaving my wife here alone with a dead man. She’s in the family way. Besides, the murdered man came in on this stage last night, and I’m not moving this rig until the Sheriff says it can go.”
Annabelle sat in one of the porch rockers and watched the stage driver pace back and forth across the yard. He wouldn’t allow anyone to go back into the inn, and the heat of the day was steadily rising. She removed the fan from her purse and waved it around her face. As hot as she was, Daisy must have been miserable.
“Are you alright?” Annabelle asked.
The woman nodded but Annabelle couldn’t help noticing the tremor in her hands.
“I’m fine,” Daisy said. “I’ve just never seen anything like that before. There was blood everywhere.”
“Where did you find him?”
“In the root cellar right outside the kitchen,” Daisy said. “I can’t figure
out what he would have been doing in there.”
“He was such a strange person,” Annabelle said. “He hardly said two words during the whole trip from Tyndall.”
“He listed his address as Yankton,” Daisy said. “But he boarded the stage in Tyndall for some reason.”
Annabelle opened her purse again and took out a handkerchief to pat away the beads of perspiration popping out around her hairline. Had he been murdered only steps away from her while she finished her bath and dressed? And what about the diamonds? It seemed to be taking forever for the law to get to the way station.
“How much longer do you think it will be?” she asked.
“It’s a little over eleven miles to Lake Andes,” Daisy said. “Riding our fastest horse at a good gallop, it takes around forty-five minutes to get there. Duke might have had to wait on the sheriff or the undertaker.”
Her head snapped around at the sound of horses hooves. Daisy got to her feet and ambled to the edge of the porch. “It’s them,” she said.
Annabelle joined her on the steps. Along with Duke, she saw two other men on horseback and a man clothed in a black suit and black top hat, driving a wagon. The stage driver went to meet them and said a few words to the two men wearing badges before they all started toward the inn. One of the lawmen was an older man with patches gray around the temples and deep lines around his mouth and eyes.
The other man seemed to be much younger and…familiar. She’d seen him before. He’d held the door for her at the train depot in Yankton.
“That’s Marshal Johnson, in case you were wondering,” Daisy said. “He must have been in Lake Andes today. Good thing, too. Sheriff Tuttle couldn’t catch a killer if one turned himself in.”
“How did he get the job?” Annabelle asked.
“He’s the only one who’d take it.” She sat back down in the rocker. “I just can’t understand who would do this,” Daisy said. “There wasn’t anyone here last night except you, my husband, the stagehands and me. My housekeeper lives down the road a piece, and she went home right after we cleaned up the supper dishes.” Daisy paused and looked Annabelle up and down. “You don’t look like the kind of person who would murder somebody—not with a knife anyway.”
While taking the seat next to Daisy, she pondered whether to tell the woman the truth or wait until Marshal Johnson and Sheriff Tuttle questioned her. She twisted the wedding band she still wore on her left hand.
“You’re awfully young and pretty to be walking around in black mourning clothes,” Daisy said. “How long have you been a widow?”
Annabelle lowered her eyes. “Not long. My husband was an older man and in poor health when we married,” she said.
“Oh, I see,” Daisy said. “Not that it’s any of my business, but you should take off the mourning dress. There are plenty of good, strapping young men out here looking for wives. The men outnumber the women, you know.”
She knew that Daisy meant well but becoming someone’s wife again wasn’t on her agenda for the near future. At the moment, she was more concerned with figuring out how to take care of herself. She switched the subject to the matter at hand.
“Daisy, how easy would it be for someone to come on the property after dark without anyone knowing it?” she asked.
“Well, that depends on which direction they were coming from,” Daisy said. “And they would have to leave their horse or wagon somewhere down the road and sneak up on foot. The stagehands sometimes sit up late playing poker, but I think they turned in early last night.”
“Did you see Mr. Kelly go outside?”
Daisy straightened in the chair. “Right after supper and the strangest thing was that he took that valise with him. Why would a man go outside at night with his valise?”
“And did you see him come back into house?”
Her brow furrowed. “No, I didn’t. But you were out in the bathhouse around that same time. Did you hear or see anything?”
“I—”
The screen door flew open. Daisy’s husband came out and called to the men, “Duke, Billy, come give the undertaker a hand.” He turned and looked at Annabelle. “Mrs. Miles, the Marshal has some questions for you. He’s waiting for you in the parlor.”
She stood on shaky legs. She’d never been questioned by the law for any reason, much less as a witness in a murder case. This trip to see her aunt was turning out less than grand. She hoped this wasn’t a harbinger of things to come.
Both the marshal and the sheriff awaited her in the small parlor.
“Ma’am, I’m U.S. Marshal Luke Johnson,” he said. “This is Sheriff Tuttle of Lake Andes.”
He motioned for her to take a seat on the dark green, velvet-upholstered settee. The Sheriff sat in the wingback chair next to the sofa while the Marshal leaned against the mantelpiece with his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Mr. Hansen said that you might have some information about the victim,” Sheriff Tuttle said.
For some reason, she felt as if she couldn’t get her breath. Why was she so nervous? All she had to do was tell them what she knew.
“Yes,” she said after a moment. “Last night, after supper, I went out to the bathhouse. I saw Mr. Kelly talking with another man. I had a feeling that their business was private, so I didn’t make my presence known.”
Annabelle turned and looked at Marshal Johnson. The formidable lawman stared at her in way that made her slightly uncomfortable, but she continued with her story.
“I heard them talking about a diamond mine, and Mr. Kelly handed over what looked like a large sum of money in exchange for a pouch containing a handful of diamonds—maybe a dozen—and a deed to the mine.”
Marshal Johnson’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute, sheriff. Before the undertaker leaves with the body, check Mr. Kelly’s suit pockets for the items Mrs. Miles just mentioned.”
“No,” Annabelle said. “He didn’t put them in his pockets. He put them back in that valise he was carrying.”
“Then search around the area where we found the body for a valise,” Luke said.
Sheriff Tuttle went out leaving her alone with Marshal Johnson who took the seat that Tuttle had vacated. “Are you sure that the pouch contained diamonds?” he asked.
“He—Mr. Kelly said that they were diamonds. He had one of those eyepieces that jewelers use.”
Marshal Johnson leaned forward with his elbows on his knees bringing his face closer to hers. “You must have been in very close proximity to witness all of this.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she found herself stammering. “I-I was in the tub. They were in the room next door.”
He squinted at her. “You can see through walls, Mrs. Miles?”
She released the breath she’d been holding. “Of course not. I saw them through a cracked board in the partition. I had turned down the wick of my lamp so that I wouldn’t be seen in my altogether by anyone passing by the window. I’m from back east, Marshal. I’m not used to bathing out in the open.”
A crooked smile worked its way across his lips, changing his face from stern to handsome. He nodded. “Must have been a pretty big crack for you to have seen so much,” he said.
Was he making fun of her? She straightened her posture. “I was curious, so I made an extra effort to see what they were doing.”
“I see,” he said with a tilt of his head. “Can you describe the man? Would you know him if you saw him again?”
Annabelle nodded. “Yes, I’m sure I would. He was tall, had dark hair and a mustache. He had the build of a man who does hard labor, and something else. He had a long scar across the back of one hand.”
Sheriff Tuttle appeared in the doorway carrying the brown leather case. “I searched the body and the root cellar, Marshal. Here’s the valise, but it’s empty. The lock has been pried open. I did find this in one of his pockets.” The Sheriff showed Marshal Johnson a piece of paper. “It’s a telegram instructing Mr. Kelly to meet someone named Nate Harper at this way station on yester
day’s date,” he said. “It’s signed with the initials J.F.”
“I heard Mr. Kelly call the other man Mr. Harper,” Annabelle said.
“Take this to the telegraph office in Lake Andes,” Marshal Johnson said. “And find out if the operator has any way of knowing which telegraph office it was sent from.”
“Are you not coming back to Lake Andes?” the Sheriff asked.
“I’ll be along later,” The Marshal said. “I want to do a thorough search of the premises on my own before I send the stage on its way.” He turned back to Annabelle. “Can you think of anything else that might help my investigation, Mrs. Miles?”
“I’ve told you all I know,” she said. “After the two men left the bathhouse, I didn’t see or hear anything else.” She paused and held up a finger. “No wait a minute. There is something else, but I don’t know if it means anything.”
“Go on,” he said.
“Before he extinguished the lamp, Mr. Harper checked the time on his pocket watch as if it were important that he know the time. It looked just like a gold watch that my husband had.” She shrugged one shoulder. “That’s all.”
“Well, thank you, Mrs. Miles.”
He stood and started towards the door. Before leaving, he stopped and turned back to her. “May I ask where you’re going,” he said. “Just in case I have more questions.”
“Red Gorge,” she said.
One eyebrow rose. “That’s a small mining town. Kind of a rough and tumble place for a lady if I may say so.”
His description of her destination didn’t do much to set her frayed nerves at ease. “My aunt lives there. She owns a gold mine.”
He nodded and smiled. “Well, take care, Mrs. Miles.”
His eyes lingered on her for a moment before he left the room. For the first time during her journey west, she considered high tailing it back to Baltimore the quickest way possible.
About The Author
L.K. Campbell has been writing for most of her life. Her professional writing career began with a weekly newspaper column called Scenes From Real Life. She wrote this column for her hometown newspaper for four years. She began writing fiction in her early twenties, choosing the romance genre because she enjoyed reading books by Victoria Holt as well as the Harlequin and Silhouette lines.
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