Echoes of Mercy: A Novel (48 page)

Dinsmore nodded. “I was quite surprised myself.” He paused and drew a few puffs on his pipe, sending up delicate wisps of richly scented smoke. “Additionally, he accused you of stealing funds from the factory.” Dinsmore waved the pipe, a dismissive gesture. “Of course I told him he must be mistaken. Why would you do such a thing? You receive a substantial salary. Besides, I’ve seen the books. There’s no evidence of misallocation of funds.”

Gordon relaxed into the wing chair, a slow breath easing from his lungs. “Yes. Yes, he—” He concocted a tale, spewing it as easily as he might recite a grocery list. “He made the same false accusations to me, and Carrie Lang threatened to doctor the books to convince you I’d been involved in
wrongdoing. We were right to discharge her. The woman is a troublemaker. She’s likely brought this man Dempsey into her game as a means of hiding her own duplicitous actions.”

Dinsmore puffed on his pipe, his brow furrowing. “But for what purpose?”

Gordon leaned forward. “Revenge, of course. From the time she arrived in the factory, she’s relentlessly pursued the cause of Bratcher’s death, refusing to accept it was an unfortunate accident. Although she’s made claims to the contrary, I still think she may be related to the man and seeking retribution for his demise.”

He sat back, smug in his ability to fool the man seated before him. “I allowed her the privilege of thoroughly examining the elevator, and she finally admitted the probability of an accidental fall. With her means of filing a wrongful-death suit removed, she likely turned her attention to making false allegations against me and creating turmoil between us in the hope she’d be paid for her silence.”

“You may be right.” Dinsmore set the pipe in a tray on the table beside his chair and rose. “Regardless, I’m glad you came, as it saved me the trouble of traveling to Sinclair to resolve the confusion. Now.” He smiled, stretching. “It’s getting late. Let me show you to a guest room. You can return to Sinclair after a good night’s rest.”

Gordon rose but moved toward the front door rather than the winding staircase. “Thank you, sir, but now that we’ve cleared the air between us, I think it best if I go to the train station. I’ll take the earliest return to Sinclair.” He chuckled, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “After all, I have responsibilities at the factory.” Namely determining how this Dempsey fellow had discovered what he’d done with Carrie Lang.

Dinsmore smiled broadly and clapped Gordon on the shoulder. “Always dependable—that’s what I like best about you, Gordon.” His hand closed over Gordon’s shoulder, the pressure firm, fatherly. He looked directly into Gordon’s face. “Thank you for your dedication to Dinsmore’s. I’m glad we had this talk.”

Such a fool! But Dinsmore’s ignorance was his—and Gordon’s—bliss. “Thank you for trusting me, sir. I’m … glad, too.” Relief at having been released from the ugly task of disposing of Dinsmore nearly buckled his knees. He
eased down the steps, determination stiffening his spine. Dinsmore was spared, but he still needed to silence Moore and Carrie Lang for good.

As his foot met the lowest riser, two men stepped from the shadows near the house and blocked Gordon’s pathway. “Gordon Hightower?”

He blinked at them, irritation mingling with apprehension. He resorted to bluster. “That’s correct. And I’m in a hurry. I’ll thank you to move aside.”

One man came forward and took hold of Gordon’s arm.

“Here now!” Dinsmore stepped onto the portico, his frown stern aimed at the pair of intruders. “Why are you accosting this man?”

“Police business,” the man holding Gordon’s arm said. Only then did Gordon notice the silver badge pinned to the chest of the man’s dark coat. His mouth went dry.

The second officer caught hold of Gordon’s other arm. “Please go inside, Mr. Dinsmore.”

Instead, Dinsmore hurried down the steps. “What do you want with Gordon?”

The officers propelled Gordon toward a wagon waiting at the edge of the street. The first one called over his shoulder, “We have a few questions for him concerning accusations leveled by Mr. Noble Dempsey. He has to come with us.”

“My dear, you’re going to wear out the soles of your shoes if you don’t stop your endless pacing.”

Caroline paused in her trek across the station floor and sent a sheepish look in Noble’s direction. Parading back and forth wouldn’t make the minutes pass faster. Yet she couldn’t sit. Not until she’d reached Wichita and had seen for herself that both Ollie and his father were fine. After being tied up and threatened by Hightower, she believed him capable of anything.

Noble patted the seat beside him. “Come. Sit.”

She checked the round clock suspended on a bracket from the station wall. Twenty more minutes until their train departed. She supposed she could manage to sit still for that amount of time. With a sigh she lowered herself onto the wooden bench and leaned back.

Noble patted her knee. “Stewing won’t help, Caroline. Haven’t we prayed and asked for God’s protection over your friend Ollie and his father?”

Of course they had. Just as she’d prayed for Letta, Lank, and Lesley to be found. The faith she’d learned from Noble and Annamarie’s patient tutelage fought against the fear and doubt nibbling at her heart. She blew out an aggravated breath and sat forward, planting her hands on her knees and holding her spine stiff. “I’d feel better if Mr. Dinsmore hadn’t been so … lackadaisical. Why can’t he see the truth?”

Noble chuckled, placing his arm around Caroline’s shoulders and drawing her against the bench’s high back. “He placed his confidence in Gordon Hightower. To believe the apprentice to whom he dedicated such time and trust has tricked him makes him question himself. So he sees what he wants to see.”

Caroline frowned at Noble. “He’s stubborn and foolish.”

Noble’s chuckle rumbled again. “He’s human. But the police believed us. They’ll be on alert, so you needn’t worry.” He gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “Dear one, in this life we will encounter people like Hightower and Dinsmore, who follow their own pathway instead of the one deigned by God. They spend their entire lives scrabbling for something to satisfy them and always come up empty. Instead of being angry with these men, we should pity them. They’re lost. They need our prayers.”

Caroline peered at her beloved mentor through a sheen of tears. “I know you’re right, Noble. And I want to trust God to work instead of worrying, the way you and Annamarie have taught me. But it’s so hard. How do you do it?”

With a gentle smile Noble placed his thick palm over Caroline’s fists, which lay tightly balled in her lap. “Very simply, Caroline, you open your fists”—he peeled her fingers free of their curl and turned her hands palms upward—“and you give the worry over to the One who is capable of carrying it.” The warmth of his smile eased a bit of the tension in Caroline’s stiff frame. “Jesus tells us in the eleventh chapter of Matthew, verse twenty-eight, ‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ He’ll honor the promise, but you must do your part in laying down the burden.”

Caroline fell silent, thinking of Noble’s kind instruction. Hadn’t she been weary since she was a child? She’d fought so hard to overcome the scars inflicted by the labor of her childhood. Thanks to Noble and Annamarie, she’d discovered an element of healing, yet she knew she still clung to some burdens.

Lowering her head, she spoke to the One who beckoned her to trust.
Father, open me completely to You so I might walk free of the weariness plaguing me. Ignite in me a trust so pure and true that nothing can shake it
. Just as Noble’s tender smile had warmed her from within, the Presence of God fell around Caroline like a sweet covering of fresh-scented dew. Her hands relaxed, her fingers opening not only to release her burden but to accept the gift of peace being bestowed from above. A smile formed on her face—a face moistened by the tears slipping from beneath her closed lids and running in warm rivulets down her cheeks.
Thank You, my dear Lord and Savior. You’ve rescued me again
.

The floorboards beneath her feet vibrated, and a train whistle cut through the air. She opened her eyes and swept the tears from her cheeks, rising with Noble to watch the locomotive approach.

Noble touched her elbow. “It’s the Number Sixty-Three, our train.” As the engine belched to a shuddering stop at the station, he guided her forward to join a spattering of others who waited to board.

A conductor hopped down from the nearest passenger car and held up both hands to the passengers. “Back off, folks! Got a medical emergency on board. We need to get these folks to a doctor soon as possible, so move aside and let them pass. Step back, step back.”

Mumbling with curiosity the passengers complied. Caroline, in the middle of a small throng, automatically winged up a prayer for the ill person, whoever it was. A man with a child cradled in his arms stepped onto the little platform. Shadows shrouded them, but clearly the child wasn’t moving. Two more children followed on the man’s heels. The conductor assisted them onto the boardwalk, and the lanterns hanging from the station’s porch roof illuminated their faces.

Caroline gasped and grabbed Noble’s arm. “It’s Ollie! And he’s got Lesley!”

Oliver kept his arms snug around Letta and Lank. Lank drowsed against his shoulder, but Letta remained alert, her body stiff and her gaze aimed at the door behind which a doctor tended Lesley’s wounds. He fought a shudder, recalling the vicious tears in the boy’s flesh. He’d caused more pain as he’d cut the trap loose from its chain and then released its catch. Lesley’s tormented cries still rang in his ears. How he prayed the doctor would be able to save Lesley’s leg.

At the end of the hallway, Carrie and her friends, Noble and Annamarie Dempsey, talked with the hospital bookkeeper, presumedly arranging for payment. He released a disgusted sigh. Money … Everyone wanted their money. Hospital administrators, Gordon Hightower, even Father. Oliver didn’t
begrudge the hospital being paid for its services or Hightower being compensated for his labor, but he wished dollars and cents didn’t carry more importance than people. In the past few days, he’d witnessed too much harm committed in the pursuit of money.
Lord, don’t ever let me fall in that trap …

Carrie and the Dempseys moved up the hallway as the door opened, and the doctor stepped out. Oliver gently shifted Lank to the bench and rose to meet him.

Letta rushed at the man, wringing her hands beneath her chin. “How’s my brother? Is he gonna be all right?”

The doctor offered a kind look and put his hand on Letta’s shoulder. “He suffered some deep cuts—through the muscle tissue all the way to the bone, which was snapped. I’ve stitched him up as best I can and set his leg. He’ll wear some nasty scars for the rest of his life, but I’m confident the leg will heal and he’ll be back to running and jumping in, oh, perhaps three months’ time. Keeping him as still as you did and in the cold water was the right thing to do, young lady.”

Tears welled in Letta’s eyes. She lowered her head. “I didn’t do right, mister. I took my brothers away to keep ’em safe, but I let Lesley get hurt. He wouldn’t’ve stepped in that trap at all if it wasn’t for me.”

Oliver stepped forward and curled his hand lightly around Letta’s neck. “Don’t blame yourself, Letta. This was an accident. No one’s to blame.”

The doctor nodded. “Listen to Mr. Moore.” He turned to Oliver and lowered his voice. “I’m thankful you came along when you did. Much longer, and Lesley might have gone into shock. He’s a very lucky boy.”

Letta sniffled. “Can I go see him now?”

“Yes, he’s asking for you. Just don’t bump his leg or let him wiggle around too much.” The doctor laughed lightly, giving Oliver a knowing look. “Keeping that one down may prove to be a challenge.”

Carrie moved up beside Oliver. “We’ll meet the challenge, doctor. Don’t worry. Thank you for seeing to him.”

The doctor strode up the hallway, and Letta dashed through the door. Both Noble and Annamarie followed her into the room. Oliver started to go in after them, but Carrie held out her hand and stopped him.