Patricia Hagan (17 page)

His gut feeling was that Bonham was not responsible, but he continued the investigation according to the little he knew. A break had come with the bribing of a river rat, Sol Hinky, who knew something worth knowing. Hinky had been drinking and dozing in the bushes along the bank, in Illinois, when he heard a commotion. Waking, he watched in the moonlight as crates were loaded onto a boat. The crates were heavy, he knew, because it took several men to carry each one.

He’d not overheard anything, he told Scott, because not long after he woke up, he developed a bad case of the hiccups and someone heard him, knew he was there. He took off running, and they’d come after him, shooting at him. Frightened, he had never told anyone what he’d seen. He’d also never told anyone that he’d recognized one of the men helping load the ship. A ne’er-do-well named Wiley Olmstead who lived in nearby Cairo.

Scott took another swallow of the whiskey as he recalled that next crucial juncture. He couldn’t let anyone know he was looking for the shipment of gold. He’d told Hinky only what the old drunk needed to know and no more. If Olmstead knew that the boxes he loaded had contained gold, then he wasn’t going to talk about it. Further, he could tip off the thieves that someone was on their trail.

Scott found Olmstead and followed him around awhile until he learned what an unscrupulous man he was. Not liking the method, but knowing it was the only route open to him, he accosted Olmstead one night as he left a saloon, held a gun to his neck, and took him to the very dock where the gold had been loaded. “You helped load something here a few weeks back. Tell me everything you know about it. Everything, Olmstead, ’cause I know everything about you.”

“I ain’t tellin’ you a goddamn thing!” his prisoner screamed.

Scott gagged him easily and dragged him into the murky river, tying him neck-deep to one of the pier pilings. When Olmstead’s eyes were bulging with fear of the water moccasins that abounded, Scott yanked him out of the water and tossed him on the muddy bank. He loosened the gag, and Olmstead babbled, begging to be believed. He didn’t know what was in the crates. “They gimme ten dollars to help get the boat in here and out, ’cause I know the tricky currents. That’s all I did—helped ’em in and out. I don’t know nothing.”

Scott was not satisfied. “You’re bound to have heard something. I want to know every goddamn thing you heard…every word, name, anything.”

Thrashing in the mud, Olmstead tried with all his might to remember. Someone, he recalled, said something about having a cousin in Vicksburg he was looking forward to seeing once the job was finished. That was about all Scott got out of the encounter—that Vicksburg was probably where the gold had gone. And he got a few names from Olmstead. One of the names was Bonham. Curiously, the description didn’t fit a fifty-three-year-old man. The fellow Olmstead thought was called Bonham was in his late twenties. It had been dark, of course, but still…

Scott took Olmstead with him to Washington rather than leave him behind to talk, and he trumped up a charge that would keep Olmstead out of the way until the gold was found.

Realizing he needed help in the investigation, Scott set out for Vicksburg with Captain Neil Davis. It hadn’t taken long to learn that Jarvis Bonham, at the urging of his son Roger, had purchased a large tract of land on the banks of the Mississippi. Now Scott was sure. It was Roger who was behind the theft, not Jarvis. He’d probably found out about the gold coming through by reading correspondence between his father and the general.

All Scott had to do at that point was find out where in the Vicksburg area the gold was hidden. Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle had begun to fit together. Had Holly not found a way to keep her land from being sold, the Bonhams would have purchased it along with the larger tract. The Night Hawks were determined to scare her off that very parcel of land. Therefore, the gold had to be on, or close to, Holly’s property. It made perfect sense. The terrain around the swamp was so full of hollows and rises that anything could be buried there.

There were still a lot of questions. Were the Night Hawks actually the gold thieves? Not all of them. From what he’d been able to learn about Talton Pollock, the man had been in Vicksburg when the theft took place. Still, Pollock had dealings with Roger, and Scott was planning to learn whatever he could about Pollock.

Time was important. Scott had to solve the mystery of the theft before it became publicly known that the gold was missing. His own military record would surely be blighted if it came out that he’d helped keep the lid on things. And now, with Holly, he had a personal stake in the whole, rotten mess.

Scott shifted in his chair, reaching for the whiskey, then deciding not to drink any more. What were the Night Hawks up to? Were they riding that night, or not? How much could he afford to worry about Holly without driving himself into a frenzy?

He had put together enough about the gold and Roger Bonham to know that Holly wasn’t in any real danger. They might burn down her grandfather’s shack to scare her off, true, but there was no way a clever manipulator like Roger would bring trouble down on himself by letting someone get badly hurt or killed. No, Holly was safe. If he believed otherwise, Scott would not have allowed her to stay where she was. He’d have found some way of getting her back to Vicksburg.

Of course, she didn’t know that. She had every reason to be terrified. Damn the girl, why did she have to be so all-fired set on having her own way? She wouldn’t budge and nothing could make her. He smiled wryly. Holly and Lisa Lou had more in common than they thought.

He stretched. He needed sleep, but he knew he’d lie awake awhile, as always, staring at the ceiling and wishing he could forget Holly.

It would, he surmised with a slow smile, be much easier to solve the riddle of the stolen gold than to fathom the mystery of Holly Maxwell.

Chapter Fourteen

Holly awoke in a sweat of terror as the world exploded in a rolling thunder of hoofbeats. It all came back—the angry men in hoods, the cross flaming crimson against the black sky. Grabbing her gun, she had it cocked by the time she opened the door.

“Holly, don’t shoot!”

She squinted in the sudden glare of early morning sunshine. It was Roger, reining in his horse and leaping from the saddle.

He held out his arms to her. “Put the gun away. It’s all right.” He approached slowly, in case she was hysterical and might shoot. “Sally came at first light and told us what happened.”

“It’s an outrage!” Jarvis Bonham arrived then, face tight with anger as he swung down from his horse. “Now put that gun away and tell us what went on here last night.”

Six or seven men, all armed, rode up and dismounted, taking in the blackened, charred remains of the cross and exchanging looks.

Holly laid the gun aside, since it seemed to be making everyone so nervous. “What about Sally?” she demanded. “Is she all right?”

Roger nodded. “She was naturally hysterical. Said she wouldn’t stay here another minute knowing what she’d caused to happen.”

“She didn’t cause a damn thing to happen,” Holly snapped, going back inside the cabin. “Those bastards were trying to scare me off
my land again, that’s all. I suppose I’m going to have to kill somebody before they’ll leave me alone,” she said.

Jarvis followed Holly and Roger inside, shaking his head. “There’s no need for all this trouble, no need at all,” he said irritably. “Holly, you know you have a home with me and your mother. Leave this place. You’re just causing everyone a lot of worry and grief by being so stubborn.”

She turned on him, glaring. “Mr. Bonham, I resent your interference. Your marrying my mother doesn’t give you any rights over me. I think”—she drew in her breath, let it out slowly—“that I would like for you to take your men and go.”

Good grief, was there no end to the girl’s obstinance? “Can’t you see we’re trying to help you?” he roared. “Enough’s enough. Now get your things and come back with me. I have to tell Claudia about this, and she’ll take it easier if you’re there when I do. She’ll know you’re all right if she can see you.”

Holly shook her head, and Roger said, “Father, maybe you’d better do as she asks. I’ll stay with her till the soldiers get here.” He stood between them, looking from one to the other.

Holly blinked. “Soldiers?” she asked.

Roger sighed, feeling his own patience waning. He was determined to be the peacemaker, but she was so difficult. “Did you think the army wouldn’t have to be notified about something like this? Now, I know you’re upset, Holly, but be reasonable. I’ll stay here with you till you finish answering their questions, and then I’ll take you to Magnolia Hall.

“You know you want to go there,” he rushed on before she could say anything, “to see how Sally is. And you need to prepare for the wedding.”

He was right. She also admitted to being upset about Jarvis. She wanted to like the man, but he was not helping matters by trying to take over. She knew he wanted to buy her land to add to his empire. Maybe, she dared to wonder, he was behind the scheme to frighten her away.

Roger snapped at Jarvis, “Will you do as she asks and get out of here? It’s obvious she resents your presence.”

“It’s obvious,” Jarvis responded indignantly, “that my efforts at friendship have been in vain.” He turned and strode angrily out of the cabin, calling to his men to mount up.

Holly was at once contrite. After all, he was going to be her stepfather. She had been rude. She’d let her emotions and her imagination run wild. She started after him, but Roger caught her arm.

“Don’t.”

She looked up, stunned. “Why not? I should apologize. I was rude.”

“So was he.” He held her arm, but gently, and his voice was soft. “It isn’t important that you get along with him, Holly. It’s best you keep your distance. Believe me, I have reasons for telling you this. Just let him go. I’m here, and you can count on me.”

She was so confused by all this. Why was Roger so hostile toward his father? And what was he alluding to? Why should she keep her distance? There was no time, however, to ponder these things, for Jarvis had no more than led his men away, than riders approached from the opposite direction. She walked to the window and peered out, chiding herself for the sudden wave of disappointment at seeing Neil Davis leading the patrol. It might have been Scott.

Roger went out to meet the soldiers. “Captain Davis, when is the army going to put a stop to these blasted night riders!” he yelled without preliminary. He pointed to the remains of the cross. “Look at this. Blasphemy! How long is this going to go on?”

Neil chose not to respond. He looked beyond him to Holly, standing in the doorway. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” he called. There was real kindness in his voice.

She shook her head.

He dismounted and walked toward the, door, ignoring Roger, who watched, eyes narrowing.

Neil took her hand, eyes searching hers. “Are you sure you’re all right? Can you talk about what happened? I need to know all you can tell me.”

Roger came alive then, storming, “Hell, no, she won’t talk about it. You’ll just upset her. I’ll take her inside and get her settled, and then I’ll let you know whatever she tells me.”

Neil looked at him stonily. “I’ll ask the questions, Mr. Bonham. I really don’t know what your interest is in this incident,” he added.

“Incident!” Roger snorted. “You call it an ‘incident’ when hoodlums ride on helpless women? I might say I’ve shown more interest in Miss Maxwell’s welfare than the damned, inefficient army ever has!”

“That’s enough out of you!” Neil’s voice cracked like a whip. “Go away before I lose my temper.”

“Why, I’ll have you court-martialed—” Roger shouted.

Holly quickly stepped between them. “It’s all right,” she said to Roger. “I’m sure the captain needs to question me. Just wait for me, and when he’s finished, I’ll go with you to see about Sally.”

Roger nodded stiffly, all the while meeting Davis’s burning gaze, letting him know he was not afraid, and was acquiescing only out of respect for Holly.

Holly motioned Neil to follow her inside. “I’m sorry about all that. I’ll be glad to tell you what I know.”

She sat down at the table, and Neil took a seat next to her. His blue eyes shone with affectionate concern, and he placed a gentle hand over hers, squeezing. “Start at the beginning, and leave nothing out.”

She did. He listened intently, then said, “I’ll relay what you’ve told me to the colonel. You go now and check on the girl, then get some rest. I’ll try to get by later in the day to ask her some questions.”

Holly dared to yield to her overwhelming curiosity. “Might I ask why the colonel didn’t come?” She tried to sound only mildly annoyed, nothing else.

Neil couldn’t tell her that Scott had indeed come along but, seeing Roger, had gone into the woods to avoid a confrontation. Scott’s prime suspect in the gold theft mustn’t be allowed to think Scott was interested in whatever went on there. Let Roger think, Scott had explained to Neil, that Scott hardly even knew who Roger Bonham was. An occasional social meeting, all right, that couldn’t be avoided. But nothing should make Roger wary of Scott.

“He’s busy in town,” Neil told her. “But he’ll want a full report. Whether you think so or not, he manages to keep abreast of everything that goes on within his command.”