The Secrets of Rosa Lee

by Jodi Thomas

  “You shouldn’t be driving!” she yelled as she hurried toward him.

  “The Rogers sisters called and invited me to lunch. When I found out we were eating out, I couldn’t say no.” He lifted his one good arm around her shoulder. “How you doing, babe?” His words were light, but his eyes told her he cared about her answer.

  She glanced back and noticed Talon watching. “I’m fine. Aren’t you going to give me a hello kiss?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

  “Sure. Lay one on me.”

  His arm tightened, drawing her to him as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  The kiss wasn’t as long as Lora would have liked to display to Talon, but it was very pleasant just the same.

  “I got a feeling there’s going to be pain somewhere in this greeting,” Billy whispered. “But it was worth it.”

  She wrapped an arm around his waist and walked with him toward the door. “I’ve decided to stop beating you up. There’s too many people in line ahead of me.”

  Two farmers walked out as she opened the door. They’d probably passed the morning with coffee and talk. One removed his hat. “Morning, Lora,” he said politely.

  “Morning, Jake,” she said.

  Both men looked at Billy. “Mornin’,” Jake said to Billy and moved out of the way. “Glad to see you getting around so good. We was worried about you. Ain’t right, someone jumping you like that when you was just doing your duty watching over that old Altman place.”

  The other farmer agreed and leaned forward to pat Billy on the shoulder in awkward comfort.

  Once she and Billy were inside, he laughed. “That’s the first time either of them have ever said a word to me. I would have sworn they didn’t know I existed.”

  Billy didn’t comment on how the men knew about his beating.

  Lora waved at the Rogers sisters. As they moved across the room, she felt every set of eyes on her, watching. Several people spoke to her, a few to Billy. The town was keeping up with what had happened at the Altman place.

  He slid into the booth beside Lora and across from the Rogers sisters. “Am I in the right town?”

  Lora laughed. “I know what you mean. People smiled at me without the usual poor thing kind of look in their eyes. Nothing like stepping into another crisis to get you out of the one you think you’re living in.”

  Ada May interrupted. “Of course they stare at you. The committee is the talk of the town today. I’m starting to feel like a rock star.”

  “How do you know what a rock star feels like, Ada May? Have you ever been a rock star? I don’t think so,” Beth Ann said.

  “I was just guessing.”

  “Well, not me. I’m not saying I feel like something when I don’t have any idea what that feels like and neither do you. You’ve never even been near a rock star in your whole life.”

  “Yes, I have,” Ada May corrected. “I touched Willie Nelson’s car once when he was in Amarillo. I went right up to it and touched the door where he probably put his hand before he got in.”

  “Hope I’m not interrupting something,” Micah Parker said as he took the last seat in the long booth. He waved away a menu and lifted one finger, indicating he wanted the special, which was what anyone with sense ordered if they wanted to be served before two o’clock.

  Billy grinned. “Hopefully, you are interrupting.” He pointed with his head toward the sisters. “They’re already into round two.”

  Both sisters looked as if they had no idea what he was talking about. After giving their order, they rejoined the group.

  Ada May leaned close to Micah. “The professor stood right up to the mayor and told him we needed more time. This afternoon, we’re heading over to the house to do more investigating.”

  Micah glanced at Sidney.

  “Actually, I asked if we could have one more day. There are a few things we have to settle. I promised we’d have the answer by tomorrow morning at nine.”

  Micah waited as Sidney explained. She ended by saying, “Sloan and I plan to go visit the widow of Dr. Eastland. We’re hoping she might remember something about Rosa Lee.”

  “Good. I’ve got my own lead. I’m going out to Luther Oates’s place and see if I can find out what he remembers,” Micah said. “A friend of mine told me about a religious group that called themselves the Brotherhood. She said Oates and Altman might have been in it. I’ve been dying to hear if any of the stories are true. And if he knows anything, he might know if the house was used as their meeting place.”

  Sloan shook his head. “I don’t know. The road’s unpaved and bound to be bad, plus the Oateses aren’t known for welcoming company. We’ve got a few rigs near there and some of the men swear they’ve been shot at taking shortcuts across Oates’s land to get to our rigs. Maybe you should wait until I can go with you. We’ll be back from Eastland’s by three.”

  Lora looked around Ada May and almost shouted, “I’ll go with Sidney to see the widow. Sloan, you take Micah.” She didn’t miss Sloan’s doubt. “Then we can cover ground twice as fast. We’re running out of time. We’ll meet back here in two hours for coffee, then go out to the house.”

  Sloan nodded, but obviously wasn’t happy with leaving Sidney. He even insisted on giving her his extra cell phone. Lora couldn’t help but wonder why. Was he doing his job and didn’t want to miss anything, or was he being a caring friend? Talon Graham might be worthless, but he’d opened her eyes to watching Sloan and if Sloan McCormick stepped out of line, Lora planned to be there.

  “I could go over to the house and look for the wooden rose while everyone else is out visiting,” Billy offered.

  Everyone at the table said no at the same time.

  Billy shrugged. “It was an idea.”

  Beth Ann patted his bandaged hand. “Ada May and I will go with you. While they are interviewing everyone, we can start with the grounds before it gets any colder. A cold front is on its way in.”

  “Then—” Ada May picked up the plan “—we’ll come back here for dessert and warm up while we learn what Sidney and Micah found out.”

  Sidney glanced at her watch. “All right, we meet back here no later than four and go back to the house for a final search.”

  Her troops were too busy getting their hamburgers to answer, but finally, between bites, Ada May mumbled, “I don’t know about anyone else, but when we go back to the old place tonight I’m going armed.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Sloan McCormick pulled his truck off the paved road and hoped the ground was still frozen enough not to have turned to mud. The day had held to below freezing with a cloudy enough sky to keep the few inches of snow from melting, but he knew West Texas. An hour of sunshine and the road to Luther Oates’s place might be impossible to travel.

  “What are we looking for, Preacher?”

  “I don’t know. I think I may be chasing something that is little more than a legend. The story goes that once, when only a few Anglos settled this area, most of the people here were Catholic.”

  Sloan laughed. “That’s no legend, Micah. That’s fact. When Texas belonged to Mexico the only people allowed to settle here were Catholics, or at least they had to claim to be.”

  Micah shrugged. “I was thinking about a little later than the revolution. From about the turn of the century until the thirties or so. Legends in Clifton Creek talk of a group of Catholics who broke away from the church. They called themselves the Brotherhood. They believed in suffering for their sins. I don’t know what it would have to do with the Altman place, but the time period was when Henry Altman would have been an important man. It’s just a hunch I’ve had ever since I found out that Rosa Lee had her baby baptized in the Catholic church.”

  “It’s a lead anyway.” Sloan laughed. “I know how they must have felt back then. I think I’ve suffered for every sin I’ve ever enjoyed. My ex-wife made sure of that.”

  “You were married?” Micah wanted to change the subject. The parts of the le
gend he had heard frightened him. Clifton Creek was a calm little town where nothing bad happened. He didn’t like the idea that someone might have died in town and no one knew why.

  “I married once, about ten years ago. She was a knockout who made me chase her until she caught me. I should have spent some time talking to her before we ended up married. She made my life such hell even the oil field half a world away looked good. I swore I’d never fall for a woman again.”

  “And?”

  Sloan smiled. “I kept my word, until I stood outside a classroom and watched Dr. Sidney Dickerson lecture. I’ve never met a woman like her, all brains and caring. She’s innocent and irresistible at the same time. I think it will take me a lifetime to figure her out if I can convince her to let me stay around.”

  “You fear she might not.”

  “I worry about it. She doesn’t know how far I’m willing to go to make sure I stay out of the way of her committee vote.” The oilman hesitated only a moment. “I’m willing to step aside. Quit if I have to. My company’s already got another man ready to step in and take my place.”

  Micah tried not to show his surprise.

  Sloan glanced at the preacher. “You ever had love slam into you, Preacher?”

  “Once,” he answered.

  “Did you do anything about it?”

  “Not yet,” Micah said.

  Sloan nodded, lost in his own thoughts. “That’s the thing, when it hits you hard and fast. You worry that it might not be real, but then, you figure, what if it is real and I let it get away? What if I let my one-in-a-million chance at happiness walk out of my life because I’m too much of a coward to hold on?”

  Both men watched the road without talking for a few minutes.

  The echo of three rounds being fired reached them. Sloan slowed and rolled the window down a few inches.

  “Is someone shooting at us?” Micah leaned forward staring out into open plains. “From where?” The land was flat and endless.

  “I’m guessing those were warning shots.” Sloan reached for his shotgun. “You know how to shoot?”

  Micah hadn’t touched a gun since he’d been in Boy Scouts and fired a .22. “I can fire, but I doubt I could hit anything.”

  “That’s fine,” Sloan laughed. “We’re not planning on killing anything. Just stick that barrel out the window so they’ll know we’re not scared.”

  Micah carefully twisted the rifle until the barrel pointed out the window.

  “You don’t like guns, do you?” Sloan leaned forward, watching as he continued down the road. “But I need to know, one way or the other, in case this is more trouble than I think. If it came down to life or death, could you fire? Will you cover my back if we drive into harm’s way?”

  Micah had never been asked such a question. Never even given it any thought. He remembered his mother saying once that thank God there was no longer a draft because she couldn’t imagine her son carrying a gun.

  Then he recalled the stories he’d heard about the Brotherhood. Stories about how they’d taken their religion too far and left a man dead after he’d suffered for their sins. Micah told himself he didn’t believe it, but was he willing to bet his life on it? “I can fire if I have to.”

  Sloan laughed nervously. “We’re probably only going to find an old man living on this place who shoots at the crows.”

  They bumped across the hard road until they finally saw a windmill to the left. Sloan turned at the first gate. After a half mile, he said, “I’m not even sure we’re on the road anymore. I don’t have any tracks to follow and the ground is covered.” He paused. “When we get there, let me do the talking. We can’t go in asking about some secret society or they’ll shoot us for sure.”

  Micah nodded. He had no idea how he would bring the subject up anyway. Where could he start? All he had were a few rumors to base his theory on and the fact that everyone in town thought Luther Oates and Henry Altman had been friends seventy years ago.

  They drove up to the house and saw three men standing on a long porch that ran the length of the front. One was old and shriveled into his coat like a turtle. Another had to be in his sixties, but stood straight and tall, a big man even without the boots and hat. The third stranger didn’t look long out of his teens. All three had guns within reach.

  Sloan told Micah to stay put and stepped out of his truck, slow and easy. “Howdy.” He held his hands wide and didn’t bother to close the truck door. “I was hoping to have a few words with Luther Oates.”

  “You the law?”

  “No. I’m just here to ask him a few questions about Henry Altman. His granddaughter asked me to come by.”

  The big man shook his head. “Henry Altman didn’t have but one daughter and she was an old maid. So, either you’re lying, or you’ve been lied to, which makes you a fool.”

  Sloan raised his hands higher and took another step. “That may be true, I’ve fallen for lies a few times in my life, but I saw a picture of Rosa Lee Altman and my lady friend is close to a mirror image.”

  “Maybe she’s a distant cousin or something.”

  “Did you know Rosa Lee?” Sloan asked.

  “I did.” The big man answered. “But I’ve nothing to say.”

  “Well, her picture was in black-and-white so I couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but my friend has light blue. You wouldn’t remember what color Rosa Lee’s were, would you?”

  The older man shifted, but didn’t say a word.

  Sloan took another step. “Look, I’m not here to cause any trouble. My friend doesn’t have a relative in this world and she’d like to know a little about the people she came from.”

  The big man in the middle raised his voice as if he thought Sloan must be hard of hearing. “I told you—”

  The older man lifted his hand. “It’s all right. I’ll talk to him. I knew Henry Altman. He was older than me, but I was proud to call him a friend. A finer man never lived.”

  Micah left the rifle in the truck and stepped out. “You’re Luther Oates, aren’t you?”

  The old man nodded.

  “I’m Reverend Micah Parker.” Micah took a few steps. “We’d like to ask a few questions about Henry Altman.”

  “He loved his daughter and she loved him. I’ll say that.”

  “Did he ever lock her away in that house?” Sloan asked.

  The old man shook his head and spoke to Micah. “He loved her and she proved she loved him. That’s all I’m planning to say.”

  Sloan leaned closer, now standing just off the porch. “Why? What is the secret that circles around that house like a moat? What is it that no one will tell?”

  The old man’s eyes floated with tears. “It ain’t for me to say. But, best I remember, Rosa Lee did have light blue eyes.”

  Sloan’s gaze met Micah’s for a second and Micah knew to be ready as Sloan lowered his voice slightly and asked, “Mr. Oates, did Henry Altman have something he wanted to hide? Maybe an organization he belonged to, or something he did he wouldn’t want anyone to know about.”

  Luther glared at Sloan, then shook his head and turned. Without another word the old man considered the meeting over.

  Sloan started back to the truck. “Well, then, I guess we’re wasting your time.”

  Micah didn’t move, or take his gaze off the old man’s back. Sloan was playing him, but Micah guessed Luther would be too smart to fall.

  Sloan turned, as if thinking of one last question. “Mr. Oates, how do you feel about the house being demolished?”

  Luther glanced over his shoulder. “I say let it fall, there’s nothing left but bad memories.”

  Micah almost echoed the words from the note, let the house fall. He knew the old man couldn’t have been strong enough to throw the drill bit, but his son or grandson could have.

  Sloan agreed. “I’m guessing it’ll be torn down in a few days. We’re going through it one more time tonight to look for anything.”

  “You won’t find nothing,” th
e kid on the end of the porch mumbled and then seemed embarrassed that he’d said the words aloud.

  “Because you’ve looked,” Sloan said before the boy’s father or grandfather could speak.

  “Maybe,” the kid said. “There ain’t no crime in walking through a vacant house. I didn’t do any damage.”

  Sloan appeared to agree. “Maybe we’ll have better luck,” he mumbled continuing his journey to the truck. “Rosa Lee left us a map, written in a book, as to where she kept secrets hidden.”

  Micah knew Sloan was stretching the truth, but didn’t mention it as he watched all three men on the porch stiffen.

  “We’ve reason to believe Henry belonged to a secret organization,” Micah said. “We’d like to find out if it’s only a legend, or if it could have been fact.”

  Finally the old man answered, “If the sheriff were standing here, I’d swear I never heard of such a group. It ain’t healthy to mention them.”

  Sloan nodded then asked, “Mind telling me why? I’m not from around here.”

  The old man looked as if he questioned just how bright Sloan was. Finally, he said, “From what I hear, they were a group of very religious men. It’s rumored one of the ceremonies got out of hand one night in the early thirties and men died. After that, the group broke up.”

  “You have any idea if Henry Altman belonged to that group?” Micah asked, already seeing the answer in the old man’s eyes.

  “If he did a thing like that it would weigh heavy on him.” Oates looked tired, a lifetime of tired. “I heard there was a list, a role of the members. If it were found, it could destroy whole families around here.”

  Luther Oates took a deep breath. “If this woman friend of yours is kin to Henry Altman, and he was a member of the Brotherhood, maybe it’s better she never knows.”

  “One last question, Mr. Oates,” Sloan said. “Do you have any idea why Henry’s daughter didn’t have a service for her father?”