“What about his things?” Eb asked. “His wagons, saddle horse, and any personal effects.”
“Wagons?” Schwartz seemed surprised at that.
“We were told he took three wagons full of goods,” Anne said. “He planned to open a store in Oregon.”
Schwartz stroked his beard. “I didn’t know that. I suppose he had other men driving the wagons for him. The captain of the company left him here with a horse, saddle, and bedroll. That’s all I know about.”
“And what became of those?” Eb asked.
Schwartz spread his hands in supplication. “We had no way of knowing whom to contact, and I kept the horse as payment for the care he received. There was nothing else.”
“Nothing?” Anne asked bleakly.
“I think not.”
“Surely the wagon master gave you a way to contact him or Stone’s drivers,” Rob said.
“No, sir.” Schwartz glanced toward the trading post. “I left my nephew in the store, and his English is not so good. I should go and check on him.”
Rob and Eb exchanged a dark glance. “You must compensate Miss Stone for her uncle’s horse, saddle, and other gear,” Rob said.
Schwartz glowered at him. “I told you—”
“We know what you said,” Rob replied. “It didn’t sound as though he received much care. A horse and saddle is too much payment for digging a grave. I don’t expect the man stayed without some cash in his pockets either.”
“He had no valuables on him when he came here.” Schwartz’s harsh tone softened when he glanced at Anne again. “Of course we had to burn his bedroll. You understand. The sickness…”
“Leave us,” Eb said.
Schwartz nodded and strode quickly toward the trading post.
Anne raised a gloved hand to her lips and closed her eyes. Elise put an arm around her.
“Are you all right, my dear?”
Anne nodded. “Let us go on.”
They stepped out of the copse into the harsh sunlight. A short distance away, several weathered crosses stuck up out of the tall grass. Rob took Anne’s hand and threaded it through the crook of his arm again.
“The left side,” Anne said softly. The grass was bent over in several paths among the markers, and they veered to the left edge of the little cemetery.
A moment later they located the cross made of two short boards nailed together. DAVID STONE was carved rudely into the horizontal piece. They all stood gazing at it for a moment.
Anne sobbed. “It’s too awful.” She wiped tears from her pale cheeks with her delicate white handkerchief.
“I know.” Elise stepped closer to her, on the other side from Rob. Tears flooded her eyes. “But if you hadn’t inquired at the trading post, we might never have known of this. We might have passed by and never learned his fate.”
“Yes. We could have gone all the way to Oregon on a fruitless errand.”
“I wonder what became of his wagons full of goods,” Elise said.
Rob looked over Anne’s head at her. “Shall we say a few words?”
“I would like that,” Anne said.
“Is the Twenty-Third Psalm all right?”
“Yes.”
Rob started to recite the psalm, and Elise took Anne’s hand. Together they whispered the words in unison with Rob. From behind them, Eb’s quiet voice joined in.
“ ‘…And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Amen.’ ”
After a moment’s silence, Rob began to pray. “Dear heavenly Father, we ask that You would comfort Miss Stone’s heart. We pray also that You would give her wisdom and guide her footsteps as she has some decisions ahead of her. For David Stone, we thank You for his time on this earth, and that he was a man people loved and respected. Please comfort his family in England when they receive this news. Amen.”
Elise opened her tear-filled eyes. This crude resting place was completely inadequate for David.
Eb cleared his throat. “The inscription looks mighty fresh.”
Elise stared at the boards for a moment before his words penetrated her numbness. The cross of wind- and rain-battered boards looked as though it might well have stood there for several years, but the letters on the crosspiece left yellowish wood exposed.
“Yes, it does,” she said.
Eb walked around them and bent over the marker. “No dates, just the name. What do you think, Rob?”
“I’m not sure.” Rob looked about. “It’s a mite trampled here, wouldn’t you say?”
Eb surveyed the grass around the grave. He went to his knees and spread back the stalks at the base of the cross. He picked up something small between his fingertips and held it close to his eyes. He held it out to Rob and dropped it into his hand then burrowed into the grass again, searching carefully.
“What is it?” Elise asked.
Rob held out his palm. “A wood shaving. A fresh one.”
Eb rocked back on his knees and held out more.
“Looks like we need to talk to Mr. Schwartz again,” Rob said.
Eb stood. “No need for you ladies to get into it. We’ll get the truth out of him.”
“But I don’t understand,” Anne said. “Why would he lie about a grave?”
“Maybe he’s not telling the truth about how Mr. Stone died,” Rob said.
Eb shook his head. “In that case, why did he even offer the information that there was a grave here? When Miss Stone asked at the trading post, he could have simply said he’d never heard of the man.”
“And why carve his name on the cross now?” Elise asked.
Rob frowned. “Maybe to make it look as though they took better care of him than they really did?”
A thought leaped to Elise’s mind. “Mr. Hoyle.”
“Who?” Eb asked.
“A man I met in Independence. He was forming a wagon train. He’s the one who told us David Stone traveled west with him in 1850. And also the one who mentioned the three wagons full of merchandise.”
“What else did he say?” Eb asked.
Elise frowned in concentration. “He said David originally planned to move to California, but on the trail he changed his mind. He went to Oregon instead. At least, Mr. Hoyle said he left their company with a group of other wagons at the cutoff.”
Eb looked at Rob. “If he stuck with them to the cutoff, he would have been alive when they passed here.”
“Yup.”
Anne looked from Rob to Eb and back again. “So either Mr. Hoyle or Mr. Schwartz lied. How do we know which?”
Rob pushed his hat back. “I’ve known Ted Hoyle for at least three years. Never heard anything bad about him. He’s generally considered reliable. But Schwartz…” He shook his head.
“Sounds like we’d better have that talk with the trader,” Eb said.
Rob nodded. “You ladies go back to the trading post and wait for us. Eb and I will see if Schwartz is out near the barn again.”
Elise took Anne’s elbow. “Come. These two gentlemen will get to the bottom of this.”
Anne sniffed and wiped her damp eyes with her handkerchief. “Yes, I trust Mr. Whistler and Mr. Bentley implicitly.”
They walked back through the willows and toward the buildings. Elise steered Anne away from the barnyard to avoid the men working there. They neared the trading post from the back.
“If we wait here, we can see when Mr. Bentley and Mr. Whistler leave the barn,” Elise said. “I’d just as soon be out of sight of the wagon train people entering and leaving the post, too.”
Anne concurred, and they stood quietly beneath the eaves. A back door was open, and somewhere inside, two men were talking. Elise pricked up her ears and leaned toward the open doorway.
“Elise…”
Anne stopped speaking when Elise held up an urgent hand. She was almost certain…Yes, it was true.
“One of the men inside is speaking German,” she whispered to Anne.
“It must be Mr. Schwartz, but to whom is he speaking?”
“I don’t know. None of the other folks in our company speak German that I know of.” Elise tiptoed closer to the doorway.
One man said quite clearly in German, “I think they’re buying it.”
She held her breath. It had been so long since she’d had a conversation in her native tongue, she had to listen closely. Although she disliked Schwartz based on what Eb and Rob had said, she would find it satisfying to go around to the front room of the trading post and have a chance to speak to him in German.
As this flashed through her mind, the second man laughed. “That’s good, if they believe you. Amazing how trusting some people are.”
Elise frowned. What were they talking about? Not a literal transaction, it seemed. Anne was waiting a few steps away, eyeing her curiously. Elise put a finger to her lips, and Anne nodded.
“…The young woman, she is distraught, but what can I say? If we can fool her, we will get a good payoff. That and the livestock will make this a profitable encounter, I think.”
The other man laughed. “They’ll never be able to prove it wasn’t Indians, not with the evidence we’ll give them.”
“Enough,” Schwartz said, louder than before. “Now go back to work.”
Elise stepped quickly away from the door, grabbed Anne’s wrist, and pulled her around the corner of the building.
“What’s going on?” Anne hissed.
“A good question.” Elise held her close to the side wall as footsteps clumped out into the cleared area behind the post. A moment later Schwartz came into view, walking away from them. He headed straight for the barn and corral without looking back. Elise exhaled.
“There are Mr. Bentley and Mr. Whistler.” Anne nodded toward the barn. Apparently Eb and Rob had unsuccessfully searched for Schwartz in the outbuildings. They now met him outside near the corral and stood talking for a minute.
“What I heard sounded suspicious,” Elise said softly. “I want to tell those two gentlemen and see what they say—but definitely not in front of the trader.”
CHAPTER 20
Do you have witnesses?” Eb asked Schwartz.
“Witnesses?” The big man repeated. “To Stone’s death, you mean?”
“Yes.” Eb didn’t blink.
Schwartz shrugged. “My hired men. Let’s see…one of them is dead now. Drowned crossing the river. Another went hunting last fall and never returned. My hired hands come and go. I’m not sure I can produce anyone else who was here when this regrettable incident happened.”
“I’ll just bet,” Eb said.
Schwartz’s eyes narrowed. “What are you driving at?”
Rob stepped forward. “Here, now, gentlemen, no need to get upset. Mr. Schwartz, is there anything else you can tell us about Mr. Stone’s final days? For instance, who was captain of the wagon train he traveled with?”
Schwartz spread his hands, palms up. “You ask me to remember, after so long a time?”
“If it was someone you knew…someone you’d dealt with before…” Rob eyed him closely.
“I think the emigrants had elected a captain from their company. They were traveling by the book, as we say. Using one of those handbooks that tell you where the next watering place is.”
Rob glanced at Eb. They both knew better than to suggest Ted Hoyle had captained Stone’s train.
“We’ll bring Miss Stone into the store in a few minutes,” Rob said. “I expect you to give her a hundred dollars for the horse and saddle.”
“A hundred dollars?” Schwartz stared at him. “You want to drive me out of business, is that it? I hardly make a penny on the supplies I sell here. Every grain of corn must be hauled across the plains. I can’t pay her a hundred dollars.”
Eb opened his mouth and closed it again. He was going to ask why Schwartz had altered the grave marker, but he already knew something wasn’t right. The whole business stank. If he’d lied about the grave, he’d probably lied about the rest, too. Maybe he’d laid claim to all of David Stone’s goods—wagons, merchandise, livestock, and all.
“I think that would be the least you could do,” Rob said. “I’ll bring her in shortly.” He nodded to Eb, and Eb followed him toward the trading post.
“I don’t like it,” Rob said.
“Me either.” Eb nudged him. “The ladies are waiting for us. Miss Finster looks fit to tear into somebody.”
Rob doffed his hat as they approached the women. “Well, ladies, I’m not thoroughly satisfied with the outcome, but I told Schwartz I’d take Miss Stone into the store, and that I expected him to compensate her. We’ll see what happens.”
“Do you think he really got Uncle David’s horse?” Miss Stone asked. “I don’t believe he’s telling us the whole truth, but if he’s a liar, why not lie about that?”
“I’m not sure what he’s up to, but the scoundrel ought to at least feel it a little in his pocketbook.” Rob looked over his shoulder. “He’s coming up from the barn. Do you feel ready to face him again, Miss Stone?”
“I suppose so, but I’m not sure it would be right for me to take money from him.”
“You go on,” Miss Finster said. “Trust Mr. Whistler’s judgment. Meanwhile, I’ll speak to Mr. Bentley about what I heard just now.”
Eb studied her face. “What’s that?”
“Elise heard Herr Schwartz talking to someone in German a few moments ago,” Miss Stone said.
Miss Finster flushed and looked down. “It may be nothing, but I thought I should tell you.”
“Perhaps I should hear it before we go inside,” Rob said.
“All right.”
Eb glanced around and saw that Schwartz had veered off toward the back of the building. Miss Finster waited until he was out of sight. She lowered her voice and stepped closer to Eb and Rob than she normally would, and Eb felt her sense of urgency.
“He told the other person—and I’ve no idea who that may be, except it seemed to be someone working for him—that ‘the young woman is distraught.’ I wondered if he might be speaking about Anne. Then he said that if they can fool her, they will be paid well. What was I to think, other than that he must be lying to us about David’s death? Though how on earth he could profit from that, I have no idea.”
Rob’s face wrinkled as he thought about it. “If he’s lying, he certainly won’t want to part with a hundred dollars for a horse he never took possession of.”
“That’s true,” Eb said. “On the other hand, if he does agree to pay Miss Stone, that wouldn’t necessarily mean he’s telling the truth. It might be a sign that he’s deep into it for something. The question is, what?”
“Do you really think my uncle survived the trip west?” Miss Stone asked. Her tear-streaked face and reddened eyes presented a pathetic picture, and Eb wanted badly to comfort the young woman.
“I wish I could tell you what all of this means, miss. Personally, I’m leaning toward thinking that grave yonder is a fake—or else it belongs to someone else. Seems to me Schwartz or one of his cronies carved the name on the cross today because they saw that it might benefit them. Whether your uncle is actually resting in that plot is questionable.”
“Let’s go in and see what he says to you,” Rob suggested.
Miss Finster nodded. “Go, Anne. I’ll wait out here with Mr. Bentley.”
Rob and Miss Stone walked toward the front of the trading post. As soon as they rounded the corner, Miss Finster looked up at Eb.
“There was more I didn’t want to tell you in front of Anne. I don’t think it will affect Mr. Whistler’s conversation with the trader—in fact, it may be better that he doesn’t know it yet, so he won’t inadvertently give away anything.”
“Oh? What’s up?”
She inhaled sharply and glanced toward the barn as though marshaling her thoughts. Eb couldn’t help noticing how pretty she looked. She wore a fetching brown hat he didn’t believe he’d ever seen before, and her golden hair just showed around her forehead and ears. Her skin glowed with good health, a
nd she looked less fragile than she had when they’d set out in April. Not that she and Miss Stone were ever sickly, but they’d both grown stronger on the trail.
“He said something about livestock to the other man. I didn’t hear much, but when he mentioned Anne—that is, the ‘young woman’—he said something about how some people are so trusting, in a detrimental way.”
Eb frowned. He thought he understood what that meant—just.
“And then he said what I told you before about being well paid if they could fool her. But it was what he said next that really caught my attention.”
“Which was?”
“He said—in German, you understand—that between that and the livestock, this should be a profitable encounter, and the other man said ‘they’ll blame it on Indians.’ He mentioned leaving some evidence.”
“What did you take that to mean?” Eb asked. “What encounter was he talking about?”
“I thought at first he meant with Anne. But Anne hasn’t anything to do with livestock, except our poor little team of six mules. Unless he meant her uncle’s livestock, that pulled his three wagons. But that was years ago, so why would he refer to it in the same breath as ‘this encounter’? Or ‘this meeting?’ ” She sighed and touched his sleeve lightly. “Mr. Bentley, I’m of German birth, but I’ve lived in England since I was sixteen.”
“I never would have guessed. You speak English just about perfectly, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
“In fact, I was surprised when you said you could speak German. I thought you were English all this time.”
She smiled. “My name should have given me away. Finster means ‘dark or brooding’ in German.”
He appraised her for a moment and then shook his head. “You’re not like that.”
“That’s kind of you. My point is, it’s been decades since I regularly conversed in the German language. But I’m wondering if perhaps he meant this encounter with our wagon train.”
THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy Page 22