Truth Be Told (29 page)

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Authors: Carol Cox

Tags: #FIC042030, #FIC042040, #FIC027050, #Women journalists—Fiction, #Corporations—Corrupt practices—Fiction

BOOK: Truth Be Told
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Eddie Franklin scoffed. “Why worry about that? You said we were going to close the opening to that mine later. No one is ever going to find her there.”

Merrick turned a steely gaze on his minion. “You said no one would ever realize those documents were forgeries, either. This time, I don't plan to leave anything to chance.”

Franklin only grunted before he swiveled Amelia around, pointing her toward the footpath that led up the hill. Reaching under his jacket, he produced a heavy pistol and prodded her shoulder with it. “That way.”

Amelia dug in her heels and refused to budge. Walk to her death like a lamb to the slaughter? Not likely!

Cold steel pressed against the nape of her neck. “Carrying your lifeless body up that hill would be easier than putting up with your nonsense. We can end this right now, if that's the way you want to do it.”

A low groan rose in Amelia's throat, and she staggered forward. Moving ahead might only extend her life by a few brief moments, but those moments were now precious in her sight. Her mind raced while she stumbled along the rough trail. Was there anything she could do to elude the men and get away?
Her heart sank as she took stock of her situation. There was no place to run—assuming her weary limbs cooperated—and nowhere to go for help. Even if she managed to slip away, they would be able to catch her before she'd gone a dozen steps. She clenched her teeth to choke back her sobs.

The narrow trail followed the slope uphill through scattered pines and clumps of manzanita, and she could hear the steady footsteps of the men as they trudged behind her. Taking her eyes from the rough path, she cast a glance up to the top of the hill. Through a stand of pines, she could make out the wooden A-frame of the hoist used to haul ore out of the mineshaft. Her lips trembled, and she felt tears course down her cheeks. With all her heart she wished she could turn around and flee to the safety of the newspaper office.

“Keep movin'.” Franklin punctuated his order with a sharp jab of his pistol between her shoulder blades.

Amelia focused on the trail again and trudged ahead.

Chapter 32

B
en slowed the horse, chafing at the need to reduce his pace as the road wound upward. For the past couple of miles, he had been traveling on Great Western land. Merrick seldom made personal visits to the property, and Ben could think of no good reason for him being out there today.

The road leveled out at the top of a rise. Up ahead, he spotted the buckboard stopped on the edge of the road. Even at this distance, he could see the bed was empty and no one was in sight.

Reining his borrowed mount off the road, he tied the gelding in a clump of scrub oak and pulled the rifle from its scabbard. He slid the action open far enough to assure himself the gun was loaded and snapped the action back in place. He hadn't used a firearm since coming to Arizona, but he'd hunted deer with his own Winchester back east. He had plenty of experience being quiet in the woods and sneaking up on game.

Tucking the rifle under his arm, he crept his way up to the abandoned wagon and peered around to make sure no one was watching before he approached the buckboard. As he drew near, he spotted a pile of burlap on the ground. His
lips tightened at the sight of the “potato” sack Jimmy spoke of. But like the wagon, it was empty now. Stepping closer, he noticed a length of twine and a twisted piece of cloth.

Ben's stomach knotted. Exactly what a captor would use to bind and gag a prisoner. That confirmed his suspicions—Merrick and Franklin had someone with them. He bent to examine the scuffle of footprints near the wagon's tailgate and nodded when he saw two sets of men's prints, apparently belonging to Franklin and Merrick. His mouth went dry and he caught his breath when he spotted a set of smaller prints made by a woman's shoe. Those had to belong to Amelia.

The tracks led away from the wagon. Ben forced himself to breathe again. She was alive, or at least she had been at that point. But Merrick wouldn't have brought her out there under such rough conditions only to let her go again. Ben set his lips in a grim line. He had to find her before it was too late.

Stepping lightly, he followed the tracks up the hill, stopping every few paces to scan the trail ahead. He didn't spot anyone, and he couldn't decide whether that boded ill or not. There were no buildings for miles around. Where could they be going? The trees thickened, blocking his view of the path. He moved off the trail and ducked into the brush along the side. It wouldn't do to have one of the men he was following turn around and spot him.

He made his way over the rough terrain as quietly as he could. Near the top of the hill, he stopped in the shelter of a towering Ponderosa to catch his breath and leaned out from behind the broad trunk to study the hillside. A flash of movement higher up caught his eye, and Ben's heart began to race when he made out three figures.

Whatever Merrick planned, it would surely take place soon. He didn't have a moment to waste. With a surge of renewed energy, Ben raced toward the hilltop, keeping the trees between him and his objective as he closed in.

Amelia staggered into a clearing at the top of the hill. Her knees locked when she saw the gaping hole at the foot of the
A
-frame hoist, bringing her to an abrupt stop. Franklin crashed into her from behind. Letting out an oath, he grabbed her right arm and shoved her ahead of him toward the frame. He jerked her to a halt a few feet short of the yawning abyss.

Looking back over his shoulder, he called out to Merrick. “How do you want to do this?”

“Take that rope off her hands and then finish the job.”

Amelia twisted around to face Merrick. “You really can't get away with this. Even if no one on earth ever finds out what happened to me, God knows.”

Merrick let out a bark of a laugh. “That's a lovely sentiment, but what am I supposed to do? Do you expect me to take you back to town and turn you loose so you can tell everyone what you know? I'm afraid it's gone too far for that.”

Franklin took a step back and holstered his gun. Keeping a close watch on Amelia, he dug in his pocket for the knife.

“At least give me a chance to pray. You may not fear God, but I want to be ready to meet Him face-to-face.”

Merrick's face darkened. “You've had all afternoon to pray.” He nodded to Franklin, who moved behind her. “Let's get this over with.”

Amelia drew in a shuddering breath when she felt him slip
the sharp blade between her wrists. She swept her gaze over the hillside, wanting to take in every detail of her last sight of life on this earth. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of motion in a stand of pines. Trying not to draw Merrick's attention, she darted a glance in that direction and held back a cry when she saw Ben edging toward them with a rifle in his hands.

Some fleeting expression must have given her away, for Merrick whirled around just as Ben stepped forward with the gun leveled at the two men. “Put your hands in the air, both of you!”

Instead of complying, Merrick made a sideways leap, putting Amelia between himself and Ben's rifle. Franklin threw the knife to the ground and stepped away from her. His hand reached under his jacket.

“Look out, Ben!” she screamed. “He has a gun!” Summoning all her strength, she lunged at Franklin, knocking him off balance. The move toppled her, as well, and she skidded into the dirt. Amelia rolled to one side, away from the opening. She lay with her face in the dust, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Franklin staggered in a wide arc, trying to regain his balance. His lurching steps brought him up to the edge of the hole. Franklin's eyes widened when he saw the chasm at his feet, and he scrambled backwards, his boots skidding on bits of shattered rock left over from the mining operation. He let out a hoarse cry, and his arms flailed wildly. But his efforts to regain his footing failed, and he tumbled over the edge. His scream echoed from the depths, then stopped abruptly.

Ben was the first to move. With his rifle trained on Merrick, he rushed over to Amelia and reached down with one hand to help her sit up. He motioned to Merrick with the tip of the
rifle barrel. “Step away from that hole, but don't get any ideas about taking off. I've got my eye on you.”

Keeping his gaze focused on Merrick, he scooped up the knife Franklin dropped. With a quick glance down, he slipped the blade under the twine that held Amelia's wrists together and severed it with a quick jerk.

Amelia's arms dropped to her sides. With a sob of relief, she pulled her hands into her lap and cradled her burning wrists while she stared in horror at the place where Eddie Franklin had stood only moments before. “Is he . . . ?”

Ben dropped the knife and used both hands to hold the rifle steady. “Don't worry about him. He's beyond any help we could give him. Right now, we have a more pressing issue to deal with.”

His face hardened as he jabbed the tip of the rifle in Merrick's direction. “I am sorely tempted to send you down there to join Franklin.”

Merrick backed away and patted the air with his hands. “Don't be hasty, Ben. I'm sure we can come to some agreement. What would it take to put all this behind us?”

Ben's features contorted, and Amelia could see the muscles tighten along his jawline. “You're deluded if you think any amount of money could wipe away what you've done. When I think about the regard my family has held for you all these years! What happened to the man my father admired so much, the hero who risked his own life to save my father's all those years ago?”

Merrick's lips twisted. Then his voice took on a persuasive tone. “Your father has been most generous in introducing me to influential people in his circle of friends. The connections
I've made there have helped me immeasurably . . . and I can do the same thing for you, Ben. I'm on the verge of making millions, and part of that can be yours. All you have to do is forget this ever happened.”

Ben set his jaw and cast a longing look toward the hole where Franklin fell.

“Don't do it.” Amelia pushed herself to her feet and stepped over to join him. “You're not the same kind of person he is. We'll let the law take care of this.”

He let out a slow breath and nodded. Looking at Merrick, he said, “The best thing for you is to keep quiet and head back to the wagon before I change my mind.” Tucking the stock of his rifle under his right elbow, he slipped his left arm around Amelia's waist. She leaned into him, grateful for his support as they made their way down the hill behind Merrick.

He looked down at her with a worried expression. “Will you be able to make it?”

“I'll manage.” She nodded and pressed closer against him. “I'm just happy to be coming back at all.”

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. “I wasn't sure I'd get to you in time.”

“But you did.”

He tightened his arm around her waist, and they continued down the trail.

As they neared a curve in the trail, they heard crackling in the brush ahead. Ben pulled his arm away from Amelia's waist and used it to steady his rifle. “Hold up, Merrick.”

A moment later, four men came into view. Amelia shrank back until she saw the badges pinned to their vests. Ben nodded to the man in the lead. “I'm glad to see you here.”

He let the tip of his rifle drop and turned to Amelia. “This is Sheriff Lowry. He came to check into some of the things we've turned up about Merrick . . . and your stepfather.” Looking back at the lawman, he said, “Sheriff, this is Amelia Wagner, the woman I was telling you about. She's the editor of the
Granite Springs Gazette
.”

The sheriff tipped his Stetson to Amelia. “Pleased to meet you, miss.” Taking in her disheveled appearance at a glance, he added, “It appears Stone showed up in the nick of time.”

Amelia rubbed her tender wrists and tried to keep her voice steady. “If he'd gotten here a minute later, it would have been too late. They were planning to kill me.”

The sheriff's eyes narrowed. “Is this Merrick?” When Ben nodded, the lawman frowned. “They told me in town you had gone after two men.”

Ben pointed back along the path. “The other one fell down the mineshaft at the top of the hill. The same shaft they were planning to throw Miss Wagner into.”

Lowry's eyes flared wide. “Is that so?”

When he advanced on the prisoner, Merrick spread his hands. “Sheriff, I'm afraid this is all a dreadful misunderstanding. I don't know what you've been told, but I'm certain I can explain everything to your satisfaction.”

“It's going to be hard to explain away something like attempted murder, especially when the intended victim is still around to testify against you.” Lowry jerked his head toward Amelia. “Those marks on her wrists are proof enough of your mistreatment.”

Ben stepped forward. “And while you're trying to explain those away, I'm sure the sheriff would like to hear what you have to say about those forged documents.”

“Not to mention whatever light you can shed on the whereabouts of Arthur Copeland.” Lowry's face looked as if it had been chiseled from granite.

Merrick's jaw sagged, and he seemed to shrink within himself.

Lowry gestured to one of the other men. “Bill, you and Jack go on up and check that mineshaft.” While the pair headed up the trail, he looked at the remaining deputy. “Keep your gun on him, Wilbur. I want the pleasure of cuffing him myself.” Pulling a pair of handcuffs from his gun belt, he approached Merrick and snapped the metal rings around his wrists.

Amelia's anxiety began to melt away when she heard the sound of the shackles clicking into place. At last, her ordeal was truly over.

When they reached the buckboard, the sheriff looked at the four horses tethered nearby and turned to Ben. “We spotted a sorrel gelding tied to some scrub oak a ways down the road. Is that your horse?”

Ben's lips curved up in a crooked grin. “I rode him up here, but he isn't mine. He just happened to be available when I needed him.” His smile widened. “I'm hoping I can count on you to vouch for me that the horse was borrowed, not stolen.”

The sheriff chuckled in response. “Why don't we put Merrick on the sorrel and let you drive the young lady back to town in the buckboard.” Looking at Amelia, he added, “I'd like to make the trip back home as easy for you as possible, after all you've been through.”

While the deputy trotted down the road to retrieve the borrowed gelding, Ben turned to Amelia. Placing his hands lightly
on her shoulders, he drew her toward him and looked deep into her eyes. “Thank God you're alive! Are you really all right?”

She swallowed hard. “There isn't a part of me that doesn't hurt right now, but I'll get over that. I'm alive, and that's what counts.” Looking up, she searched his face. “Have I thanked you for saving me yet?”

A faint smile played across Ben's lips. “That works both ways. If you hadn't thrown yourself at Franklin and knocked him off balance, this might have ended very differently for both of us.”

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