Truth Be Told (24 page)

Amelia wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “My father considered you his dearest friend. It would grieve him to know how you're struggling.”

Ben cleared his throat. “Mr. Crenshaw, I may be speaking out of turn, but it sounds to me like you may have been trusting Mr. Wagner to keep you on the straight and narrow instead of the Lord.”

Homer spun around and glared at him, then his jaw went slack and his eyes widened. He leaned back against the wall, as if seeking support. “Andrew used to tell me a man can't get into heaven riding on another man's coattails. I trusted the Lord for my salvation, but I never thought I might be using Andrew as my conscience.”

Ben's eyes shone with compassion as he gripped the other man's shoulder. “We need each other, no doubt about that. The Bible makes it clear that we're supposed to encourage one another, but no person can keep you from giving in to temptation. God is the only one who can do that.”

Homer nodded, slowly at first, then with more conviction. “You're right, and I'm going to have to take some time to straighten things out with Him.” He drew a long, shaky sigh and ran his fingers through his wispy hair. “I just wish I'd never taken that first drink in the beginning. I wouldn't be in this position now if I hadn't given in back then.”

He swallowed hard, and his eyes misted over again as he turned back to Ben. “I don't suppose you know what it's like to make one wrong choice that changes your whole life.”

To Amelia's surprise, Ben's face clouded, and his green eyes took on a wistful expression. “Actually, I do,” he said. He paused and looked from Homer to Amelia and back again, as if deciding whether to go on.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Back when I was in college, God placed a call on my life. Some men would have been thrilled, but I was scared to death. When I looked around at the pastors I knew, all I saw were stodgy men leading lifeless congregations. I couldn't stand the thought of spending my life that way and becoming like them. So I ran.”

Amelia's lips formed an
O
. Homer tucked his thumbs in his waistband and leaned forward, listening intently.

“I didn't share God's call with anyone. I didn't want anybody forcing me into something I didn't want to do. After I graduated, I tried a few jobs, but none of them truly satisfied me.” He gave a short laugh. “And to be honest, I wasn't particularly good at any of them. I had no idea which way to turn next . . . until Owen Merrick visited my father and offered me a job with Great Western.

“It seemed like a grand opportunity to be a part of building the West. I saw it as a way to do good and convinced myself I
could minister that way as well as I could from behind a pulpit. So I jumped at the chance and came out here to Arizona.”

The muscles along his jaw worked as he turned to face Homer. “I didn't crawl into a bottle, but turning my back on God's plan like that was just as bad. And it certainly didn't work out the way I'd hoped. I haven't had a moment of real peace since I ran away.”

Fighting back tears of her own, Amelia stepped beside him and took his hand in hers. “But there's always a way back, Ben. For all of us.” Her throat tightened. Hadn't she just been given a second chance by Clara and Martin . . . and Homer, too?

Ben gave her a grateful smile. He tightened his fingers around hers and didn't let go.

Homer used his handkerchief to swipe his face again and shoved it back in his pocket. “Thank you both. You've given me a lot to think about—and a lot to hope for.” He squared his shoulders, looking more like his usual self. “If you don't mind, I think I'll go out for a while. Some of that fresh evening air ought to be just the thing to help clear up this old head of mine. And I might just stop by the church and see if Pastor Edmonds is around. He and I have a lot to talk about.”

As he walked out the front door, Jimmy darted past him and charged inside. He pounded across the floor, his face alight with excitement. “Miss Amelia, I think I'm onto a story.”

“Not now, Jimmy.” Amelia pressed her free hand to her forehead. This day had already given her too much to think about. She simply didn't have the energy to deal with Jimmy's boundless enthusiasm right now.

Seeing the boy's crestfallen look, she had a change of heart. Hadn't she already hurt enough people over the past couple of
days? She couldn't bear to add Jimmy to that list. With a sigh, she walked over to her young newsboy and bent down to put herself on his eye level. “All right, tell me about it.”

His recovery was immediate. A wide grin split his face, and he bounced up and down like an eager puppy. “There's some strangers in town.”

Amelia's lips twitched. “That's hardly a major story, Jimmy. Granite Springs is growing, and new people come to town all the time. That's why I check by the depot every week to see who has arrived.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jimmy continued bouncing, undaunted by her statement. “But not people like these. They look like bad guys, really mean.”

Amelia stood and leaned back against the counter. She winked at Ben, remembering some of Jimmy's “story leads” from the past. “Mean like Freddie Thompson the time he gave Pete Roland a bloody nose on the schoolyard, or mean like Mr. Olsen when he chased you and some of your buddies out of his hayloft?”

Jimmy shook his head with an impatient frown. “No, these look like a bunch of toughs. And they're not kids, Miss Amelia, they're grown-ups. Come on and look.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her across the floor to the front window, then pointed across the street in the direction of the corner cigar store.

Amelia followed his pointing finger. Her stomach clenched when she saw three men, all strangers to her, loitering in front of the shop. None of them had the look of typical Westerners. They reminded her of men she had seen in Denver, hanging around the train yards. One was heavyset, with broad shoul
ders. The second had a crooked nose that skewed off in an odd direction. The third was smaller than the others, with a narrow face that reminded her of a weasel's. She felt a sense of relief when Ben joined them at the window.

Trying to stifle the flutter of panic their appearance raised within her, she turned to Jimmy with what she hoped would look like a calm smile. “They are strangers, I'll grant you that. And they do look a little rough. But I'm not sure there's a story in it.” She kept her voice light and confident, trying to convince herself as much as the boy.

Jimmy was not so easily persuaded. “But what are they doing, just hanging around the corner like that? They aren't doing anything, they aren't talking to anybody, and they keep looking over this way. See?” He jabbed his finger toward the window again. “One of them is looking over here right now.”

Amelia stepped back with an involuntary gasp when the heavyset man looked straight toward the
Gazette
building. She let out a shaky laugh when she realized the sun's reflection on the glass would keep him from seeing her. She was as bad as Jimmy, letting her imagination run away with her.

Or was she? She glanced over her shoulder at the printing office and took a step closer to Ben. Someone had been in her building earlier, someone strong enough and malicious enough to turn the place upside down. These men looked like they would fit that bill quite nicely.

But why would total strangers target her paper? She could think of no reason . . . unless they had been sent by someone at Great Western. She gripped Ben's arm. “Do you recognize them?”

When she met his green gaze, his worried expression told her
his thoughts had been traveling along similar lines. “I've never seen them before. From the way they're just hanging about, it almost seems like they're waiting for someone to come out and confront them.”

He started to pull away, his lips set in a firm line. “Maybe I should accommodate them. I'd like to find out what they're doing here.”

“Don't even think about it!” Amelia clutched his arm with both hands and held on tight. A flurry of thoughts whirled through her mind. There were three of the men, and only one of Ben. If that trio was responsible for the damage to the printing office, she didn't want to think what they could do to one lone man. “That may be the very reason they're out there now, waiting for you or Homer to come out and take them on. If there's an altercation, they could always claim you provoked a fight.”

When he hesitated, her breath caught in her throat, and she tightened her grip. “Please don't do it, Ben. There has to be another way.” She felt his arm tense under her fingers, and then he settled back and nodded.

“The best idea would be to let the law take care of it . . . if we had any to call upon in town.”

Amelia nodded, her frustration mounting. Like many frontier communities, Granite Springs depended on the county sheriff rather than a town marshal to enforce the laws. But the sheriff's office was in Prescott, some twelve miles away.

Ben glanced at the clock. “The telegraph office is closed for the evening. I could go roust out the operator, but the sheriff isn't going to send anyone riding out this way tonight. It would be dark long before they got here.”

He looked at the men across the street again. “Unless they rode in on horses—which isn't likely, from the looks of them—they won't be able to leave town before the train pulls out tomorrow. I'll send a wire first thing in the morning.”

Amelia studied his face. “If you think that's the best thing, I guess it will have to do.”

A furrow creased his forehead. “I don't like the idea of you being here all alone. Maybe Homer could sleep in the storeroom tonight. It would ease my mind considerably.”

“Mine too,” she admitted.

Jimmy turned away from the window, his face a mask of disappointment. “You mean you're not going to do anything about them?”

“Not tonight.” Amelia stepped away from Ben and stooped down in front of the boy. “But we will tomorrow, I promise.”

His lower lip jutted out. “I thought a reporter was always supposed to follow a story.”

“That's right. But a good reporter has to decide the best time to go after it. It's important to know when to take action and when to wait.”

Jimmy cocked his head to one side while he absorbed her words. Then he broke out in a grin. “So you're saying there really is a story here?”

“I think there may be.” Amelia straightened and ruffled his hair. “You did a fine job, letting us know about this. Now you'd better go home. It's going to be getting dark soon, and I don't want your mother to worry.” When the youngster started for the front door, she caught hold of his sleeve. “I think you'd better go out the back way this evening.”

When Jimmy screwed up his face and seemed ready to
protest, Ben stepped in. “She's right. If these fellows are up to something, we don't want to let them know we're on to them, right?”

The boy's eyes lit up, and he nodded. “Okay, I get it. I'll slip out quiet as a mouse.”

The three of them walked back to the alley door. After unlocking it, Amelia peered outside before she let Jimmy go past. “It looks like everything is clear,” she told him. “You head straight home, now. Don't even think about going out where those men are.” She exchanged a quick glance with Ben and added, “And don't spread this around among your friends, all right? This is something we have to keep quiet.”

Jimmy puffed out his chest. “Sure thing, Miss Amelia. You can count on me.”

A
melia watched Jimmy scamper down the alley. Not until she saw him turn safely onto Second Street did she close and lock the door. When she turned around, Ben stood before her with a warmth in his eyes that sent a flush creeping up her neck. Her heart began to beat more quickly.

“I'm glad you came back,” she said. “I've been wanting to talk to you.” His slow smile sent her heart into an even more rapid pace. She glanced away a moment so she could refocus. “I looked for you yesterday, but I didn't see you anywhere around town. Or today, either, when I was out trying to gather news.”

“I was gone yesterday, trying to track down some information. As for today, I went in early this morning to compare some things I've found with other items in the files.”

Amelia looked at him more closely, noticing for the first time the weariness etched around the corners of his eyes. As much as she wanted to go over her questions with him right now, the kinder thing to do would be to wait until tomorrow. She forced a smile to mask her disappointment. “Maybe you'd better be getting home, yourself. Like we told Jimmy, it's getting late, and you have to be at work again in the morning.”

Ben shook his head. “You're not getting rid of me that easy. For one thing, I'm not planning to leave until Homer gets back and I know you have someone with you. In the second place, I won't be going to the office in the morning. Or any other time, for that matter.” When he saw her startled glance, his lips twisted in a wry smile. “I quit my job today.”

“Quit!” Amelia echoed. She clasped her hands together and squeezed until her knuckles turned white. “Why? Was it because of those papers you brought to show me?” Even as she asked, she felt sure of the answer. Not only had she treated Homer abominably the day before, but her obsession with investigating Great Western had nearly cost her Clara's friendship . . . and now Ben's job.

He pursed his lips. “Let's just say that when I asked Merrick about some of the things I found, I wasn't satisfied with his answers.”

She caught his sleeve in her hand. “Why? What did he say?”

“It was more a matter of what he
didn
't
say. He was evasive, tried to fob me off until a more convenient time. I am more convinced than ever that we're on to something here. I'm just not sure what's behind it.”

He ran his hand across the top of his head and gave her an apologetic look. “Maybe I shouldn't have walked out like that. Now I won't have access to the company files, and I'm sure there's a lot more we don't know yet.”

Amelia's lips trembled as the significance of what he had done struck home. “I'm sorry. I never intended for you to lose your job—your income.” What had she done? And would that mean he was going to leave? A deep emptiness filled her heart at the thought.

“Right now, that's the least of my worries. I haven't had a lot of expenses here aside from paying for my room and board, so I have enough saved up to carry me over for a while. Actually, it may work in our favor.” His eyes lit up with a gleam that set her heart racing again. “Without any work responsibilities, I'm free to help you investigate. That is, if you still want me to.”

Hope flickered within her. If Ben was offering his services, he couldn't be planning to go back east anytime soon. “Why don't you take a look at what I worked on yesterday. Maybe you'll see something I didn't. I have to admit I'm stumped.” She led him to the office and picked up a stack of papers from the corner of her desk. Then she hesitated and turned back to face him. “But first, I need to talk to you about something else. You and Homer both shared some painful things a few moments ago. Now it's my turn.”

Ben shot her a questioning look but remained silent.

Walking to the farthest file cabinet, she opened the bottom drawer and pulled out the folded document that had shattered her perception of her father. Its weight lay heavy in her hand, and she wavered for a moment, trying to decide if she really wanted to reveal the ugly secret. As much as she needed a listening ear to which she could pour out her heart about Millie's visit, she hadn't been able to bring herself to place that burden upon Homer. His admiration for her father knew no bounds. She couldn't believe he knew anything about this sordid partnership, and she couldn't bear to put him through the same turmoil she felt.

She studied Ben's face, trying to gauge what his reaction might be. She'd asked him to trust her enough to look into the possibility of wrongdoing by the company he worked for.
Was she bold enough to give him her trust when it came to her father's reputation?

The steady green gaze decided her. Breathing a quick prayer, she laid the document in his hand. “Up until a few days ago, I didn't even know this existed. It was brought to my attention by—” she swallowed once and lifted her chin—“a woman named Millie Brown.”

Ben's eyebrows soared toward his hairline, but all he said was, “I've heard of her.”

“Go ahead and read it.” Amelia clenched her hands and tried to keep her voice from cracking. “It's easier than me trying to explain.”

Ben unfolded the paper and began to read. Seconds later, his mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide. “But this is—”

Amelia nodded, fighting back the misery that threatened to overwhelm her. “She told me she and my father had been in partnership for some time. Now that he's gone, she wants to buy out
my
share.” The last two words came out in a bitter laugh. “Just a little while ago, Homer said my father was the godliest man he'd ever known. Before I saw this, I would have agreed with him wholeheartedly. But now . . .”

Her throat tightened, and she struggled to choke out the rest of what needed to be said before she broke down completely. “What am I supposed to think? My father gave me the principles I live by, and those ideals of truth and integrity have been ingrained in me since I was old enough to understand what they mean. If my father wasn't the man I thought he was, how can I trust anyone?

“It's impossible for me to accept that he could be involved in something like this, but there it is, in black and white, with
his signature at the bottom.” She reached over and tapped the document. “And even worse . . .” She looked into Ben's eyes, trying to bring his features into focus through the tears that clouded her vision. “I think Owen Merrick knows.”

“Merrick!” Ben's tone sharpened. “What does he have to do with this?”

“I don't know. I have no idea how he learned about it, but he's made two comments to me lately that don't make sense otherwise. One was about not digging into other people's business, because I might not like what I turned up. Another time, he warned me that people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.” She fought back a sob as she gestured toward the paper. “I have no dark secrets, other than this. What else could he mean?”

Ben pondered a moment, then said, “I'd like to take a closer look, if you don't mind. Let's light a lamp so I can see it clearly.” He bent over the desk in the pool of lamplight and studied the document again. When he straightened, a taut smile stretched his lips. “When was the last time you looked at this?”

Amelia tilted her head and thought back. “I only read it one time, the day Millie told me where to find it in the file. After I realized what it was, I shoved it back in the drawer and left it there. I had no desire to see it again.”

To her astonishment, Ben's smile grew wider. “She told you where to find it?”

She nodded. “Why?”

Ben held the deed out to her. “Take another look—a close look, this time. Tell me what you see.”

Mystified, Amelia held the paper under the lamp and read through the words that had turned her life upside down. Once
again, she felt the bitter taste of bile rise in her throat. When she finished, she stared up at Ben. “What am I supposed to see here? Obviously, nothing has changed since the first time I read it.”

He moved nearer and tapped the sheet. “How about the handwriting? Have you ever seen it before?”

She studied the looping cursive without comprehending his meaning, then recognition blazed. She swung around to face him. “It can't be.”

Ben gave a grim nod. “I can't be sure without comparing the documents side by side, but it certainly looks to me like the same handwriting we found on the purchase papers for the Rogers and Smith properties.”

“The ones that were forged.” She stared at him and frowned. “But my father's signature is on there. How do you explain that?”

“Do you have something else here that bears his signature—one you know is genuine?”

“Of course.” Going to one of the file cabinets, she pulled out a folder and extracted a paper. “Here's the record of sale when he purchased some land from Virgil Sparks.” She handed it to Ben, who laid it alongside the first document.

“Here.” He pointed to the signature at the bottom of the brothel deed. “See the way the
W
in Wagner is formed?”

Amelia nodded slowly. “Yes, the points at the bottom of the letter aren't really points at all. They're rounded, with a bit of a loop to them.” A faint flutter of hope began to stir within her. “When my father signed his name, I used to tease him about how precisely he formed every letter. The points at the bottom of his
W
's were so sharp they looked like pitchfork tines.”

She bent over the papers again, feeling her excitement rise. “You're right. Now that I know what to watch for, there are other differences, as well. Like the
A
in Andrew and the
J
he used for his middle initial. The differences are small, but they're obvious when you examine them closely.” She straightened and rubbed the muscles in the small of her back. “I was so stunned when that woman came here and made those dreadful accusations, the idea of forgery never entered my mind. Once I saw that the signature appeared to be his, I never gave it a second glance.”

“I'm sure she was counting on that. Not only would you be too shaken to examine it thoroughly, you wouldn't be likely to take something like that anywhere to have it checked for authenticity, even if you did suspect.”

“But she offered to pay me two thousand dollars.” Doubt reared its ugly head again. “She even showed me the cash, Ben. Why would she do that, unless there's some truth to this? It doesn't make a bit of sense.”

“It does, if someone put her up to doing it.” When she stared at him with a blank expression, he went on. “Think about it. The handwriting on this so-called deed is the same as those other documents that were in the files at Great Western. And you said Merrick seemed to know about your father's supposed alliance with Millie Brown.”

Amelia gasped. “You mean he's behind the whole thing?”

“It certainly appears that way to me.” Ben strode across the office floor, then back again, warming to his subject. “If he was trying to keep you from going further in your investigation and discovering whatever Great Western is up to, what better way to distract you than with something so repugnant it would turn
your focus away from the company and its dealings? If that didn't work, those veiled threats of his were designed to keep you in line. And if you'd accepted that money from Millie, he would have been able to hold that over your head forever.”

“You're right.” Amelia's chest felt so tight, she could hardly breathe. Ben's explanation might only be speculation, but it had the ring of truth. “That would explain so many things. And if they're trying so hard to cover things up, there
has
to be something they don't want us to find.”

The confirmation of her suspicions galvanized her into action. Folding the deed, she shoved it into its drawer and turned back to the folders on the desk. Opening the one on top of the stack, she laid the contents out for Ben to see. “See if you can make any connections here. I even made a sketch of the area, showing all the properties I could think of.” She pulled her handmade map from the desk drawer and spread it out before them.

Leaning over the desk, she indicated a number of properties she'd marked. “I thought at first it had to be something related to the mining claims, but that doesn't explain Great Western's purchases over in these other areas. Why would they be interested in those properties? I thought of the railroad, too. Several of the parcels are near the established line, but there doesn't seem to be any connection between those and the rest. Then”—she gestured at an area toward the top of her drawing—“there are these others out in the middle of the forest.”

Stepping back, she folded her arms and shook her head. “I can't make any sense of what Great Western could be up to. Try as I might, I can't find anything these parcels all have in common.”

While she spoke, Ben shuffled through the papers, sorting them into quick piles and arranging them along the perimeter of the map. A look of amazement crossed his face, and he let out a low whistle. “You're right—they aren't just interested in the mining. When I see it all laid out like this, it looks to me like their plans are far bigger than that.”

Amelia stepped closer, her breath quickening. “What do you mean?”

“They've set their sights a lot higher than the ore they can take out of the ground. Ownership of these areas would give them control of so much more: vast tracts of timber and key locations along the proposed railroad route to Phoenix. This isn't just about mining, Amelia. They're positioning themselves to become the land barons of Arizona.”

Amelia let out her breath on a shaky sob, and his brow furrowed. He reached out to steady her with his hand. “Are you all right?”

She hesitated, then gave a brief nod. “It's just the idea of Thaddeus Grayson wielding that much power. I can't bear to imagine what that might mean for the people in this area.” She rallied enough to give Ben a reassuring smile. “But it certainly explains why Merrick has been so dead-set against those articles my father printed. Neither of them wanted the public to figure out what was going on.”