Truth Be Told (6 page)

All right, then. I'll do it.
Advertisers like Pete Nichols might bring their business back to the paper, but they wouldn't stay long if she didn't find a way to revitalize the
Gazette
and give it substance.

The numbness that had enveloped her brain ever since her father's death began to ease its hold, and she felt like she was thinking clearly for the first time in weeks. She needed a story, something worth its weight in gold.

Experienced miners knew where to look by observing rock formations and other signs in the terrain. During her growing-up years, she'd seen plenty of newcomers, watching to see where the old-timers struck pay dirt. Maybe that was what she should do—follow her father's example.

What had her father been working on before he got so sick, and Homer had to take over the writing as well as the printing? She stopped dead in her tracks, remembering Ben Stone's visit to the paper during her father's illness. That had been the first she'd heard of the Great Western Investment Company, and she well remembered the agitation her father had shown at the mention of the company's name.

What was it he'd told her? She squeezed her eyes shut and strained to remember. Something about things not being right at Great Western. A flicker of excitement sparked within her at the memory of her father's words:
“I need
to know that whoever is at the helm of the
Gazette
will bring the truth to light.”

The spark burst into a determined flame, and her eyes flew open. She was the one at the
Gazette
's helm now. She would carry out her father's wishes, uncover the truth . . . and boost the paper's circulation, all in one fell swoop.

Homer strode back in, ready to meet the public in a clean
shirt. He scooped up the stack of papers ready for delivery to local businesses and draped them over his arm. “Once I drop off the last batch, I think I'll hole up and read a bit of Wordsworth . . . unless you need me for something.”

“No, take some time for yourself. You've certainly earned it.”

As he started for the front door, she called out, “Those stories my father wrote about Great Western—when were those printed?”

“About three months ago. Just before he got so sick.” Homer tilted his head and eyed her with a speculative glance. “Why? You thinking about reading them?”

“I thought I might, just to catch up on what was going on before I got here.” She laughed. “Looks like we'll both be curling up with our reading this evening, although mine may not be on a par with Wordsworth.”

He smiled. “It may not be poetry, but it's some of the finest writing your daddy ever did.”

After Homer went on his way, Amelia searched through the bound copies of back issues they kept in the office and located the time period he'd indicated. Carrying them to the desk, she opened the earliest one and scanned the front page. The article she sought was easy enough to find, spreading from one side of the page to the other, topped by the headline:
Friend or Foe? The
Not-So-Great Western.

She scanned the story quickly at first, then went back to read it more slowly. Her father's style was so distinctive she almost felt she could hear him speaking:

Hydraulic mining—the process Great Western intends to inflict on the area around our fair community—is the same despicable
process responsible for destroying thousands of acres of rich, California farmland only two decades ago.

Amelia finished the article, then went on to the next issue, which followed along similar lines:

Let us not forget what happened to Marysville, where the mining debris choked the mountain streams and buried the entire town in a sea of brown muck. Do we want that same kind of threat hanging over our beloved Granite Springs?

Amelia's forehead puckered as she read on. The urgency in her father's tone was unmistakable:

Any time a large concern—especially one that has no long-standing ties to our region—goes out of its way to acquire control of a vast number of acres, we have to ask why. Do they have the best interests of our community at heart? This writer doesn't think so. And by what means is this land being acquired? The Gazette will continue to investigate so the light of truth can shine in Granite Springs.

Amelia went through the rest of the articles. Then she pushed her chair back and made a slow circle around the office. Her father's prose had been impassioned, compelling. But in expressing his opinions, he had never made any outright claims that Great Western was guilty of any wrongdoing—certainly nothing that would warrant demands for a retraction or an offer to buy the paper. What had gotten the company so stirred up?

And what was the root of her father's obvious animosity toward Great Western? His abhorrence of hydraulic mining
and fears for what it might mean for the future of Granite Springs was clear enough. But the recent passage of the Caminetti Bill had made the practice legal again, so the company was within its rights to use the process. As much as her father might dislike the practice, there was nothing illegal about Great Western's actions.

There had to be something more to explain his antagonism. Even on the day of her arrival, he had intimated that something was wrong with the company—something his successor must bring to light. What could it be?

The question stirred her journalistic instincts. She tilted her head and regarded the back issues she had just read. What sparked the drive for her father to print these pieces? She knew her father's methods—he wouldn't have written something like this without compiling a file containing notes, research, and a list of sources.

Maybe these columns were meant to spark interest throughout the community, laying the groundwork before making his full case against Great Western. Amelia paced the office from one end to the other, thoughts flying through her mind at a rapid pace. If she could find his notes and piece them together, she could discover the truth her father sought and make it known. It would be a fitting way to carry on his legacy.

And it might provide exactly the boost the
Gazette
needed to sell more papers. A sense of elation swelled within her. Maybe she had struck gold, after all.

B
en, could you step in here for a moment?”

Ben Stone lifted his head at the sound of Owen Merrick's voice and got to his feet. “I'll be right there, sir.”

He straightened his tie, slicked back his hair with the palms of his hands, pulled his jacket from its resting place on the back of his chair, and slipped it on as he crossed the distance to Merrick's office with quick strides. A summons to his boss's inner sanctum didn't happen every day.

After three months in the employ of Great Western, he still felt as if he was trying to find his place within the company. His work was beyond reproach—he took pains to make certain of that—but for all his striving, he'd never received the level of trust Merrick gave Eddie Franklin, his co-worker.

It wasn't for lack of trying, though. Ever since his arrival in Granite Springs, he'd done his best to negotiate land purchases. Was it Ben's fault if few of the locals seemed interested in selling? Franklin seemed to have found a way to make some inroads, though. How he managed it, Ben didn't know, but his success along that line made him Merrick's favored employee, to the point that Ben found himself relegated more to
researching ownership and writing up contracts.
Little more than a clerk.
His lips twisted at the idea.

A new thought struck him, and his steps slowed as he reached the doorway. Could something be wrong? A knot tightened in his stomach. As hard as he worked, he still had a lot to learn about Great Western's business. Had he unwittingly committed some infraction? And if so, would he merely be reprimanded, or sent packing?
Please, not that!
The idea of returning to the East wasn't a possibility he wanted to entertain.

Pausing only long enough to breathe a quick prayer and compose his features before crossing the threshold, he stepped inside. “Yes, sir?”

Owen Merrick looked up from behind his gleaming mahogany desk and waved Ben to a wooden chair facing him. Ben took the seat indicated and settled back against the uncomfortable wooden slats, trying to appear more at ease than he felt.

His employer leaned back in his black leather chair and regarded Ben with a thoughtful gaze. “How do you like it out here, son?”

Ben blinked at the unexpected question. “It's a fine place. I'm very happy to be here.”

“You aren't homesick for the East? Granite Springs is a nice enough spot, but it certainly doesn't have the amenities you grew up with in your father's home.”

Ben swallowed hard. From the line his employer was taking, it sounded like the ax was about to fall, and he couldn't imagine why. He scrambled to think of any mistakes he might have made. What could he have done wrong? And once that was made clear, would he be given a chance to make it right,
or would he be summarily dismissed? Merrick had a reputation for running a tight ship. Even though Ben had known the man all his life and felt reasonably comfortable in his presence, his employer had an undeniable core of steel when crossed.

“It's certainly different from Montgomery County, but it's a good place in its own right . . . for a man who wants to rise to the challenge.”

Merrick nodded. He pursed his lips and leaned forward again. “What I'm about to say is a little difficult.”

Ben steeled himself for whatever was about to come.

Tenting his fingers, Merrick tapped the tips together and looked at Ben with a solemn expression. “We're entering a time when investors might look askance at negative talk about our company—the kind of talk that has recently been printed in the local newspaper in opposition to hydraulic mining. There will always be those who don't share our vision for the future and are determined to stand in the way of progress, but few of them speak from such a position of influence. Having stories in circulation that imply a sizable opposition could be enough to make investors wonder if they'll receive a timely return. If those concerns aren't relieved, they may choose to put their money elsewhere.”

Ben nodded. “You mean the stories you asked me to speak to Mr. Wagner about several weeks ago. I knew you wanted him to retract something he'd written, but I haven't seen the articles myself.”

Merrick slid open the bottom desk drawer and pulled out a stack of newspaper clippings, then handed them to Ben. “These came out about the time you started working for me. There was so much for you to learn as a new employee, I didn't
want to distract you at that point. But I think now is the right time for you to see what we're up against.”

Ben picked up the articles and read them with a growing sense of disbelief that quickly turned to outrage. When he finished, he laid them back on the desk and looked at his boss. “But . . . but these articles make it seem like Great Western is out to destroy this area rather than to help it prosper!”

Merrick's face grew stern. “Exactly. And it's bad enough to see such nonsense in print locally, but it has come to my attention that portions of these articles have been reprinted in papers in Denver and back east.”

Ben stared at his employer. “What!”

“I faced Wagner with it head on. I tried to appeal to his sense of honor, but to no avail. The man was utterly inflexible. Once he got the notion in his head that we were up to no good, there was no reasoning with him.”

Ben set his mouth in a hard line. “Or maybe reason didn't matter to him. I've seen several instances in the East of newspapers engaged in fear mongering, just so they could boost their circulation.”

A sorrowful expression crossed Merrick's face. “Ben, you know the good we're trying to do here. We're succeeding for the most part. But if our investors back east read this drivel—and pull their funding because of it—we might have to cease operations. And that would mean the end of all the plans we have to bring growth and prosperity to this entire area.”

Ben sat straight up in his chair. “That's outrageous! Those stories should never have seen the light of day. At the very least, Wagner should have printed a retraction.”

Merrick spread his hands wide. “As I told you, I tried to
reason with him. But the more we talked, the more he dug in his heels. I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but I have to admit it's a relief to know we don't have to worry about him anymore. However, the paper didn't die with him. His daughter has taken over the
Gazette
.”

“Do you think she might be willing to see reason and print a retraction? Or are you concerned she may pick up the articles where her father left off?”

“I hope she may prove to be more reasonable than her father. From what I've been able to learn, she spent the last ten years in Denver, but she lived here as a child and has returned to visit every summer. She obviously has a heart for this place. If she cares about the people here, she won't want to jeopardize their future by shutting us down.”

“That would make sense.” Ben felt a glimmer of hope.

“But there is also the possibility her father's influence might cloud her perspective. She may be more interested in taking up his mantle without considering the consequences to her community.

“Something needs to be done.” Merrick eyed Ben steadily. “And I believe you're the man for the job.”

Ben started, then he leaned forward. “What is it you want me to do?”

Merrick smiled and cleared his throat. “I'm hoping Miss Wagner can be convinced to set the record straight, print a retraction. And that's where you come in.”

“You want me to speak to her about it?”

“Not straightaway. This calls for a more delicate approach.” Merrick's smile widened. “As I told you, her father and I butted heads more than once, and the man took an unreasoning dislike
to me. From the response I got when I spoke to her at his funeral, it would appear she feels the same way. And that isn't surprising, since all she has to go on is her father's skewed perception. She needs a fresh look at Great Western, and that's what I want you to give her.”

Ben scooted forward in his chair, his heart quickening. “How can I help?”

“You're close to her in age. It should be easy for you to build a rapport with her and let her see you as a friend. Don't bring up anything about the articles—not at first. Help her see the good in what we do. Convince her that Great Western is a company that will benefit not only this community, but the territory at large.”

Ben took a moment to digest what he'd just heard. “I don't know, sir.” He took a deep breath and went on, wondering if he was about to bungle an opportunity to win his employer's confidence. “I'm not sure I would be comfortable doing that. It sounds a bit like subterfuge.”

To his great relief, Merrick's eyes shone with understanding. “It's to your credit that you feel that way. Your honesty is one of the reasons I picked you for this job. I'm not asking you to deceive Miss Wagner—quite the contrary. I'm asking you to help her see things as they really are.”

Ben nodded slowly. “All right, then. How do you want me to go about it? How soon do you want results?”

“This is a matter of some delicacy. It isn't something we can rush. I want you to take all the time you need to build a relationship with the young lady and let her know she can trust you. Once that trust is established, she may be willing to print a retraction . . . or even better, write a story in our
favor. Until then, we'll shift some of your duties to the other fellows in the office. I want most of your attention focused on the pursuit of Miss Wagner.”

“Pursuit?” Ben drew his brows together. “That almost sounds like you're asking me to initiate a courtship.”

Merrick shrugged, and a smile flitted across his face. “Would that be so bad? She's certainly attractive enough. It shouldn't be too much of a hardship for you to spend time with her.”

Merrick's smile broadened to a grin. “Ah, if only I'd been charged with a task like this when I was starting out!” He leaned back and gave Ben a wink. “Be sure to let me know how things progress.”

Ben nodded and rose to leave. As he reached the door, Merrick's voice stopped him.

“Remember, Ben, this is important. Don't let me down. This could be the making of you . . . and your future.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Ben, another door in the rear of the office swung open and Eddie Franklin slipped into the room.

The tall, lean man eyed the closed door, then turned to Merrick. “So you've sicced him on the girl?”

Merrick nodded.

“Do you think it'll work?”

“Of course it will. And keeping her occupied by young Stone serves a dual purpose. Her father only scratched the surface of what we're doing—thank goodness—and we need to make sure his daughter doesn't stumble onto anything that would interfere with our plans.”

“Stone hasn't a clue just how important this is. Do you think he's up to the job?”

Merrick glared at his underling. “He's loyal to the company, and that's what matters. If it doesn't work out the way we hope, we can always find another way to deal with the problem. It didn't take much to take care of Rogers and old man Smith when they wanted to stir things up. They could have caused any number of complications. . . . But they aren't around to trouble us anymore, are they?”

Franklin's eyes narrowed. “You're thinking about getting her out of the way?”

Merrick's jaw tightened. “Don't be so shortsighted, Eddie. Violence is not the only avenue available to us. Intimidation can be just as strong a deterrent, if applied judiciously.”

Franklin rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't know about this plan of yours. What if Stone catches on? What then?”

“Why should he? You've seen the girl—she's certainly comely enough. If I were in his shoes, I know I wouldn't be averse to spending as much time with her as I could. He'll be so busy staring into those blue eyes of hers, he won't think twice about anything else.”

“I hope you're right.”

“You worry too much, Eddie. Go on about your business and relax. I have everything under control.” Merrick watched as the man exited through the rear door, then turned back to his desk, trying to tamp down his irritation. It wasn't easy to be a man of vision, especially when those he worked with seemed so blind to the possibilities at their fingertips, just waiting to be grasped.

“
What if Stone catches on?”
Eddie's question teased at his
mind, and he brushed the bothersome thought away as if it were a pesky fly.

Ben was a smart young man, no doubt about it. But in many ways, he was like his father, trusting his friends—or those he saw as friends—too easily. He had jumped at the chance to join Great Western here in Arizona, looking upon his father's boyhood companion as a kindly mentor.

Merrick chuckled. No worries about Ben Stone. He had the boy in the palm of his hand. Why should Ben ever look beyond the genial, caring surface?