Truth Be Told (11 page)

Ben pulled the door to Homer's cabin shut behind him and stepped out into the alley. Despite his earlier assurances, he wanted to make certain Homer hadn't been hurt worse than they'd thought, so he stayed long enough to assure himself that all was well. Or as well as could be expected after being hit on the head by a brick.

Walking back along the passage between the
Gazette
and the Black & Landry building, he studied the dusty ground until
he came upon the scuffed area where Homer must have fallen and the footprints of the women where they'd helped him up.

He tilted his head and studied the building opposite. The brick in its walls matched the one Amelia had shown him earlier. He tipped his head back and scanned the upper edge of the wall until he spotted an empty space in the top row of bricks.

He frowned and took a closer look. The attorneys' office building wasn't that old. Certainly not old enough for bricks to be falling out. And it was odd that none of the adjoining bricks had shifted out of place. Odder still that one would tumble down like that at the precise moment Homer was walking along the alley.

That would be quite a coincidence. And Ben didn't believe in coincidences.

Retracing his steps, he rounded the back of the office building and narrowed his eyes when he saw a ladder leaning up against the far corner. Tucking his thumbs in his belt with a nonchalant air, he took a long look around. The attorneys' office was closed for the evening, and no one else stirred in the vicinity of the alley. A smile curved his lips. That meant there was no one around to object if he did a little investigating.

Without further hesitation, he climbed the ladder and crossed the flat roof to the spot where he'd noticed the missing brick. Kneeling down, he spotted chips of mortar scattered about . . . and a hammer lying off to one side.

Ben puckered his lips and let out a low whistle. Picking up the hammer, he rocked back on his haunches, deep in thought. His earlier supposition had been correct. That brick hadn't fallen on its own.

A
knock at the alley door startled Amelia as she redistributed the type back into its California-style case. She tipped her head to one side and frowned. People didn't usually come to the back door, especially so late in the day.

Who could it be?
She opened the door cautiously, and her knees grew weak with relief at the sight of Ben standing there. His boyish smile sent a flood of warmth through her, and she couldn't hold back a grin of her own.

“Did you get Homer settled?”

“Yes, and I spent a little while visiting with him. He was resting comfortably, but I think he was happy to see me leave.” He chuckled. “Since he seems to be doing all right, I wonder if you'd reconsider that invitation to have dinner with me.”

Before she could respond, Amelia's stomach growled audibly. Her cheeks flushed as she pressed her hand against her waist, but Ben only laughed.

“Is that a yes?”

“I suppose so.” She laughed, as well, in spite of her embarrassment. “Except for a cup of tea with Clara earlier, I haven't had anything since breakfast. Let me get my reticule.”

She sped upstairs to gather up her bag and gasped when she glimpsed herself in the mirror. She took a moment to rearrange her hair and cast a longing glance at the wardrobe. If only she had time to change into a more suitable dress! But that would take too long. Ben had been thoughtful enough to extend his dinner invitation twice in one evening. She didn't want to keep him waiting.

Looping the reticule over her arm, she trotted down the stairs to where Ben stood leaning against the wall near the type cabinet. He straightened when she reached the bottom step, and the glow in his eyes made her forget her worries about her appearance. He extended his arm and escorted her outside, waiting patiently while she closed and locked the door behind them.

He matched his stride to hers as they strolled down the boardwalk, their heels echoing in unison on the weathered wood. Several shopkeepers, locking their front doors for the night, nodded as they walked past.

“I'm glad you're able to take some time off after such a busy day.”

The tension of the afternoon seemed to roll off Amelia's shoulders. How long had it been since she had gone out for a meal with no purpose in mind but relaxing? Concerns for the paper could wait until tomorrow. For this evening, at least, she wouldn't worry about business matters or what her next story might be. Tonight she would just enjoy Ben's company.

At the Bon-Ton Café, he reached out to open the door. It swung open before his fingers touched it, and Carl Olsen walked outside, nearly colliding with them. He muttered a quick apology, then did a double take when he recognized
them. A smile creased his face, and he gave Amelia a wink and walked back toward the livery.

She felt a blush stain her cheeks. The garrulous livery owner would be sure to add this sighting to whatever stories he was already spreading about their supposed relationship. Squaring her shoulders, she gave Ben a smile and stepped through the doorway, determined not to let the encounter ruin their evening.

Ben stopped beside her. “Would you like to sit near the window or farther back in the dining area?”

She started toward the window, where they would be able to look out and watch people pass by, but pulled herself up short at the realization that it would mean everyone going past could see her dining with Ben.

Smiling, she indicated a table toward the rear of the room. “How about back there?” When he nodded, she turned and led the way, relieved he hadn't objected. Having Carl Olsen spread the tale would be enough. They didn't have to put themselves on display for everyone who walked by.

After they placed their orders, Amelia looked around at the café's décor. “Pete Nichols has done a good job fixing the place up. The new tablecloths and a fresh coat of paint make it look very homey.”

Ben followed her gaze. “I wouldn't know whether it's an improvement on the old café or not, but it does look inviting.”

The corners of her lips tugged upward. “It's an improvement, trust me. The previous name was the Coffeepot, and the owners took that very much to heart, with rusty old coffeepots hung up on the walls for their décor.” His comment sparked her curiosity. “How long have you been in Granite Springs?”

“About three months.” He paused to let their waitress set
plates of roast beef and boiled potatoes in front of them. “I just moved here in the spring. But I take it you have quite a history here. Is that right?”

Amelia nodded while she cut her potato open and topped it with a pat of butter. “My family came here when I was quite young. I've been living in Denver for the past ten years, but I made it a point to come back here and spend every summer with my father.”

She waited for the inevitable questions, but he didn't press for more details.
Thank goodness.
She enjoyed Ben's company, but she wasn't ready to launch into an explanation about her mother breaking up their family. But was it all her mother's doing? For the thousandth time, she wondered what her life would have been like if her father had consented to relocate to Denver.

Pushing aside the all-too-familiar pang of grief for what might have been, she focused her attention back to the meal and her companion. Savoring a bite of the succulent roast beef, she followed it with a swallow of lemonade before asking, “What about you? Have you always lived in the West?”

Ben shook his head. “This is my first experience out here. I was born in Pennsylvania and raised in Maryland, just outside Washington, D.C.”

Amelia's eyes grew round. “What a thrill it must have been to grow up in the midst of so much history!”

A wide smile crossed his face. “It was. In fact, I went to college in our nation's capital—the University of the District of Columbia.”

She tilted her head. “I remember you saying you were on your school's boxing team.”

“And the rowing team. I enjoyed the physical effort, as well as the teamwork. I graduated a little over a year ago and tried a couple of different jobs before Mr. Merrick offered me a position out here.”

A chill seemed to sweep over the table at the mention of Owen Merrick's name. Amelia knotted her fists in her napkin and tried not to react.

Ben didn't appear to notice her discomfort. “He and my father have been friends since they served in the Union Army together. In fact, he once saved my father's life. I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for him.”

Amelia reached for her glass and took another long swallow of lemonade. “You must be grateful to him for that.”

“That's for sure.” His smile broadened. “The offer came at a time I needed some direction, and my father encouraged me to accept the job. He said it would be a good opportunity, one that could open a lot of doors later on.”

Ben stared into the distance for a moment, then nodded and looked back at Amelia. “He was right. I love it out here. With this job, I've gotten to do quite a bit of traveling around the area, and I think Granite Springs is a perfect location. Grand vistas, wide open spaces, a warm climate, and plenty of potential for growth—everything a man could want is right here.”

Seeing the sparkle in his eyes and hearing the excitement in his voice, Amelia felt her tension melt away. That same exhilaration swept over her whenever she returned from Denver. Ben's words spoke to her soul and echoed the joy in her own heart.

The rest of the meal was filled with more talk of Granite
Springs and the area she loved so much. By the time they started back to the newspaper, dusk had begun to settle over the town like a soft blanket. Lights flickered through curtained windows, and they had First Street nearly to themselves.

They walked along in a companionable silence that filled Amelia with contentment. Farther along the street, a clatter of wheels announced a buggy heading toward the livery. The sight stirred a memory, and Amelia's sense of well-being evaporated.

Her steps slowed, pulling Ben to a halt. She looked up at him, hating to shatter the peaceful mood but wanting an answer to the question that had been niggling at her mind. “I need to ask you something. The other night, when you rescued me, you called my name before you ever saw me. How did you know I was out there?”

Something flickered in his eyes, and Amelia felt her stomach tighten.

His gaze darted away for a moment before he met her eyes. “I'm a little embarrassed that you found me out.” When she blinked and stepped back, he hastened to explain. “After you walked away from me that afternoon, I watched you go to the livery. Not long after that, I saw you drive out of town in the buggy. It may not seem gentlemanly, but I ran to get my horse and followed, hoping I might get a chance to meet you on the road and talk to you. I wanted to get to know you better, and that seemed like a good opportunity.” He shrugged. “And as it turns out, I'm glad I did. I'd hate to think what might have happened if you had been stranded out there on your own.”

Amelia studied his face, then broke into a smile. “I'm glad you did, too.”

She tucked her hand back into the crook of his elbow, and they went on their way, her equanimity restored. Homer had been mistaken. Ben had nothing to do with the buggy breaking down, or any ulterior motive in coming across her when he did. He'd only wanted to spend time with her.

A light sigh drifted from her lips. Ben might work for Owen Merrick, but that didn't mean they were cut from the same cloth. Everything she had seen about Ben portrayed him as a man of honor, and one who enjoyed her company just as much as she enjoyed his.

Ben slid his hand up her arm to cup her elbow when they stepped down to cross the street. When he helped her step back up onto the boardwalk on the other side of Sheridan, his face took on a solemn cast. “Does Homer have any enemies?”

Startled from her happy reverie, Amelia could only gape at him. “What? Why, no, I don't think so. Why do you ask?”

He drew his brows together as if in deep thought, and they walked on several steps before he answered. “After I left him, I took a look at the building next to yours. Something didn't set right with me. It's a relatively new building, far too new for bricks to be coming loose and falling off.”

The statement only deepened her bewilderment. “I'm not sure I understand.”

“When I went behind the building, I found a ladder up against the back wall, so I climbed up to take a look around.”

Something about his tone filled her with foreboding. She felt her heart begin a heavy thudding in her chest. “And what did you find?”

Even in the gathering gloom, she could see the tautness in his face. “Chips of mortar were scattered around the empty
space where that brick had been. And there was a hammer lying nearby.”

She pressed her hand against her throat. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that brick didn't come down on its own. Someone pried it loose and dropped it down on Homer.”

“Be sure to lock the door behind me.” Ben stretched his hand toward Amelia, then arrested the movement and stepped outside the alley door. “I'm glad you were able to dine with me. I hope we can do it again some time.”

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, but settled for a sorrowful smile. “Good night.”

He waited for Amelia to shut the door, and she didn't waste time in complying. It wasn't until she shot the bolt into place that she heard his footsteps move away down the alley.

Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes, reliving the past few minutes. Ben's revelation about a deliberate attack on Homer had shaken her more than she'd wanted to let on, although she suspected her horrified cry left no doubt in Ben's mind about how shocked she was.

Pulling herself together, she made her way to the printing office, where she lit one of the gas lamps and went back to the never-ending chore of redistributing the type. Though her hands stayed busy, her thoughts were free to review his startling announcement over and over again.

His blunt words sent a shiver of apprehension through her. Could he be mistaken, or was there something to it?

She shook her head as she dropped one piece of type after
another into its place in the case. Though she didn't know Ben well, he seemed to be a steady man, not the type to jump to conclusions and make unfounded accusations.

From the way he described the scene on the rooftop, dropping that brick had to have been an intentional act. But would any random passerby have sufficed, or was the brick meant for Homer?

While others did use the alley as a shortcut from time to time, it was by no means a heavily traveled thoroughfare. But Homer followed the same path every week after making his last delivery. That would mean someone climbed up on that building to loosen the brick, then watch and wait . . . ready for the moment Homer came along.

Amelia clamped her hands against her waist as a wave of nausea overtook her. What kind of person could do a thing like that?