Truth Be Told Read online

  “And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.”

  The words from the Lord’s Prayer struck her like a blow. Could she forgive her father for not being the person she believed him to be? More than once, she’d heard Pastor Edmonds say forgiveness didn’t imply approval for what a person had done. It was more like the cancellation of a debt, making the choice not to harbor ill feelings for being wronged.

  She might never know all the facts about her father’s involvement in this matter. But she knew beyond a doubt that he had loved her. And she knew he had unerring instincts for discovering a news story worth pursuing. That much, she could believe without question.

  And the pursuit of truth still mattered now, just as much as it ever had. She swept her fingers across her cheeks to wipe away the tears. She wouldn’t let Millie Brown’s stunning announcement distract her from her mission: to learn the truth about Great Western.

  Taking a deep breath, she straightened in her chair and tried to concentrate. Her father had voiced concern over the company’s plans to use hydraulic mining, thereby defacing the area around Granite Springs. But he’d also implied something else was going on, something he hadn’t been able to uncover before his death.

  She drummed an impatient tattoo on the desktop with her fingertips, forcing her thoughts in order. Hydraulic mining required quantities of heavy equipment, shipped in by train. What if other shipments had arrived, as well, something that might give her a clue as to some other direction the company might take?

  Her lips curved. If that were the case, there was one person who would be sure to know all about it.

  Reaching for her notebook, she rose from the desk. Her eyes lit on the deed, lying atop the other papers she had scattered on the floor earlier. With a sigh, she knelt to scoop up the papers and return them to their respective folders.

  Picking up the deed with her father’s signature, she wavered for a moment, then slipped it back into its hiding place. At some point, she would have to decide what to do with the bombshell of information Millie Brown had dropped into her lap. But she could only deal with one crisis at a time.

  Chapter 17

  Pausing only long enough to wash the traces of tears from her face, she scribbled a note to Homer and hurried to the station. When she spotted Thomas Rafferty stacking crates at the edge of the platform, she quickened her pace and called out to him.

  “Good morning! Could I interrupt your work for a moment?”

  The station agent straightened slowly and pressed his hands against his lower back. “I can always make time for you. It’s a welcome respite after pushing these heavy crates around. What can I do for you?”

  Amelia glanced around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. Keeping her voice low, she asked, “I’m interested in learning about any large shipments that may have arrived for Owen Merrick—or Great Western.”

  Rafferty rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and frowned. “They’ve had quite a bit come in over the past few weeks. A car full of pipe and hoses and nozzles showed up about ten days ago. I’m not quite sure what that’s all about.”

  Amelia nodded. “That would be some of the equipment they need for hydraulic mining,” she told him, drawing on the information she had gleaned from her father’s notes.

  Thomas Rafferty squinted. “But I thought that was outlawed some ten years back, after they saw all the damage it did over in California.”

  “It was, until the Caminetti Mining Bill passed. It’s a viable option once again for mine owners operating on a big scale.”

  Rafferty drew his head back. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He looked up at the hills around them and shook his head slowly. “I can’t even picture what it would be like if the mountainside was scarred up, with nothing but bare rock where all those big trees are.”

  Amelia took a breath and chose her words carefully. “They’ve bought up a lot of local land, and they can do whatever they want with it. As much as I hate thinking about that, my father seemed to feel they might be planning something even worse. Have you seen anything that might help give us a clue as to what it is?”

  The station agent pulled off his cap and scratched his head. “I can’t say that I have.” Replacing the cap on his head, he added with a determined look, “But you can bet I’ll be keeping my eyes open.”

  He grinned at her. “I suppose you’d like me to let you know if I spot something that might fit the bill?”

  “I’d appreciate that very much.” Amelia laid her hand on his arm and leaned closer to him. “And if you don’t mind, let’s keep this just between us.”

  Rafferty’s grin broadened, and he lowered one eyelid in a conspiratorial wink. “You sounded just like your dad right then. And the answer is yes—I kept a confidence for him more than once, and I’ll be glad to do the same for you.”

  Amelia squeezed his arm in thanks and let him get back to his work. Walking along the edge of the platform, she eyed the bustling activity in town. The scene reminded her of the day she arrived. She had been standing in almost that same spot, waiting for her father to come meet her.

  A pang of grief smote her when she recalled her bright anticipation for this visit and how differently things had turned out from what she’d expected.

  She looked around, remembering the day she arrived in Granite Springs and the last moments of carefree normalcy before her world fell apart. She smiled when she recalled the cowboy who mistook her for an eastern tenderfoot, the gossiping matrons who moved away when they thought she’d overheard them, and that mischievous little boy careening along the street with his hoop.

  Something about the women jarred her memory, and she frowned. She had overheard part of their conversation, even made a note of it as a possible story lead. Her frown deepened. What had they been saying?

  Something about a foreclosure, she recalled. She intended to look into it further at the time, but her interest in the potential story had been pushed aside by the discovery of her father’s illness.

  Now the revived memory picked at her thoughts, refusing to leave her alone. What exactly had they talked about? She dug in her reticule and pulled out her notebook. Thumbing through the pages, she let out a small cry of triumph when she came across the entry she sought.

  It wasn’t much to go on, though. Merely a quick note about a foreclosure on Bart McCaffrey’s property.

  She tapped her finger against the penciled words. If memory served, one of the women chalked the foreclosure up to poor business sense. But could there be more to it than that?

  Tucking her notebook away, she tightened the drawstring of her reticule and set off toward the bank. It might or might not lead to a newsworthy story, but it was worth checking out.

  She walked along Railroad Street, then turned up Second. As she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with a man striding along quickly in the opposite direction.

  “Oh!” Amelia stumbled to a stop. She drew herself up when she recognized Owen Merrick. “Pardon me,” she said coolly, intending to sweep past him without further comment.

  To her surprise, Merrick tipped his hat and smiled. “Good morning to you, Miss Wagner. Out looking for more rumors to spread so early in the day?”

  She lifted her chin and glared at him. “If you’re asking whether I’m going about my duties as a journalist, the answer is yes.”

  “More of that digging we talked about earlier?” One corner of his mouth tilted in a sardonic smile. “Just remember what I said: You may not like what you turn up. People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, you know.” With another tip of his hat, he turned on his heel and went on his way.

  His words took her breath away as effectively as a blow to the stomach. Amelia’s mouth fell open, and she struggled for air as she stared after his departing figure.

  She had sensed a veiled threat in his previous warning to stop asking questions about Great Western, although she’d had no idea what he’d meant by it. This time his words filled her
with dread. He knows!

  Her certainty grew as she recalled his mocking smile and the smug look in his eyes. Somehow Owen Merrick had learned about her father’s dealings with Millie Brown. And he meant to use that against her if she continued to investigate Great Western.

  Which meant there must be something he didn’t want her to uncover.

  She stood frozen like a statue for a few moments, as fear of exposure warred with her sense of duty. The revelation of her father’s involvement with a local brothel would do irreparable damage to the reputation he had built. But allowing herself to be blackmailed would mean withholding truth that might be vital to the well-being of Granite Springs and its citizens.

  That realization snapped her out of her stupor. A block later, she reached the bank at the corner of Sherman Street. Stepping through the door, she hovered inside the entrance long enough to catch her breath and let her eyes adjust to the relative dimness in contrast to the bright summer sunlight outdoors.

  Through his open office door, she saw Hubert Murphy, the bank manager, working at his desk. Amelia shifted from one foot to the other and finally caught his eye.

  He raised his hand in greeting. “Good morning, Miss Wagner.”

  Amelia nodded to the teller as she walked past him to Murphy’s office and stepped through the doorway. “I wonder if I could have a minute of your time.”

  The bank manager spread his hands in welcome. “Of course. Come in and have a seat. Have you come to see me for a loan? Interested in purchasing some new equipment for the paper, perhaps?”

  She smiled as she settled herself in the wooden visitor’s chair. “No, Homer keeps that press of ours running along well enough to suit. I was just curious about something and hoped you could help me. What can you tell me about the McCaffrey foreclosure?”

  Murphy raised his eyebrows and studied her closely. Looking down, he toyed with the inkwell on his desk for a moment, then appeared to make up his mind. “I hope you know I wouldn’t discuss a foreclosure while it’s in process, but since it’s now public record, I suppose there’s no harm in talking about it.

  “That property had been in Bart McCaffrey’s family for twenty years, but he hadn’t done a thing to improve it. He received an offer on the place, which he turned down. Shortly after that, he took a notion to dam up part of the property and build a reservoir.”

  Amelia sat forward on her chair. “A reservoir? What on earth gave him the idea to do that?”

  Murphy lifted both shoulders. “He said he wanted to be able to supply the farmers downstream with water during a dry spell. Figured he could make a tidy sum that way. He came in and borrowed money for the labor and equipment he needed to get things moving, with the land as collateral. But once the project was completed, he found himself unable to pay off the loan.” His face took on a look of genuine sorrow. “We gave him as much time as we could, but he wound up defaulting, and the bank had to take it over.”

  “So he was doing this to help the local farmers and make a profit for himself.” Amelia shook her head. Her story lead had apparently been nothing more than a wild-goose chase. “In that case, the bank owns the property now?”

  “Not any longer.” Murphy moved the inkwell to the corner of his desk. “Great Western made an offer on it shortly after the foreclosure was final.” He looked at Amelia and spread his hands again. “That’s really all I can tell you.”

  She nodded and rose. “Thank you very much. I appreciate your time.” Exiting the bank, she turned down Sherman Street, lost in thought. Why would Bart McCaffrey decide to build a reservoir? Did he have some arrangement with the farmers he hoped to supply, or had it been—as one of the matrons had said—merely a bad business move?

  Great Western certainly hadn’t wasted any time in snapping up the property. What could that mean? She made a mental note to ask Ben about it.

  Reaching First Street, she turned the corner in front of the Granite Springs Hotel. As she walked on, a man stepped away from the building and took up a stance in the middle of the boardwalk.

  Amelia stopped short and looked up into Thaddeus Grayson’s smiling face. Her hand flew to her throat. She moved to sidestep him, but he shifted slightly, blocking her way.

  “Good day, daughter. I hope you’re feeling better.”

  The endearment made her skin crawl, but she wasn’t about to let him think he intimidated her. Resisting the urge to flee, she stood her ground and hiked up her chin. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Why not? You are my daughter—by marriage, at least.” His eyes traveled down the front of her bodice. “I’ll be wrapping up my business here soon. Dare I hope you’ve started making arrangements to free yourself from the newspaper so you can accompany me back to Denver?”

  Amelia swallowed back the words she longed to say. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. I will not be accompanying you to Denver . . . or anywhere else. I have no intention of leaving Granite Springs. This is my home now, and I’m staying here.”

  “But what about your mother?” Grayson stroked his salt-and-pepper mustache with his index finger. “She misses you terribly. She wants you to come make your home with us. We both do.”

  Bile scorched Amelia’s throat. “Don’t delude yourself. Even if I did move back to Denver—which is not going to happen—I wouldn’t dream of spending one night under the same roof with you.”

  A glint of anger flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by an amused glimmer. “You seem very sure of yourself, my dear. But—”

  “I didn’t expect to see you out and about at this time of day.”

  Amelia spun around at the sound of the familiar voice. Relief flooded her when she saw Clara and Martin Gilbreth approaching.

  “Clara! What a pleasant surprise!” The rawboned woman and her square-faced brother had never looked more wonderful. “I was hoping we’d have a chance to visit before long. It’s been a while since you stopped by the newspaper office.”

  “We’ve both been busy. Martin hired on a new crew, and I’ve had my hands full taking care of things up there.” Clara’s gaze shifted away from Amelia to a point over her shoulder.

  Behind herself, Amelia heard Grayson clear his throat. “Good day. I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Thaddeus Grayson, Amelia’s stepfather.”

  Martin stepped forward and enveloped Grayson’s fingers in a work-hardened hand. “Martin Gilbreth. I own the sawmill here. And this is my sister, Clara.”

  After acknowledging the introduction, Clara turned back to Amelia. “I didn’t realize you had family visiting. We were just on our way to the café for a bit of lunch, so we’ll be heading along now. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “We had just finished talking.” Amelia glared at Grayson, daring him to contradict her. “I was on my way back to the paper. Since you’re heading that direction, I’ll walk with the two of you.” She linked her arm in Clara’s and tugged the older woman along before she could say anything else.

  Clara shot her an odd look. As soon as they were out of earshot, she said, “That fellow may be kin, but I get the feeling there’s no love lost between the two of you. You couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Are you all right?”

  Amelia cast a quick glance over her shoulder. To her relief, Grayson stood where they had left him, with his hands in his pockets and a thoughtful expression on his face. “Let’s just say he isn’t my favorite person and leave it at that.”

  She squeezed Clara’s arm. “Thank you for rescuing me. You came along just in time. You’re a good friend.” She smiled, looking up to include Martin in her thanks. “You both are.”

  Chapter 18

  How was your dinner last night with Miss Wagner and her stepfather?”

  Ben looked up to see Owen Merrick standing beside his desk. He pushed aside the report he’d been writing on a parcel of land north of town and looked up at his boss. “I’m afraid it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Miss Wagner became indisposed partway through the meal, and the evening en
ded early.”

  Merrick nodded slowly. Looking around at the other desks, he leaned nearer and lowered his voice. “How is our little project coming along?”

  Ben bristled at the condescending tone. “I don’t think of Miss Wagner as a project. She’s a person I’m beginning to admire and look upon as a friend.”

  “And she’s feeling the same way about you?” Merrick’s eyes gleamed. “That’s fine work, my boy. Has she said anything more about her opinion of Great Western?”

  Besides asking me to find out what the company is up to? Ben shook his head. “Not in so many words, but I believe she still has some reservations.” When he saw the other man tense, he added, “But as you know, the Gazette hasn’t printed any more negative stories about the company. In fact, the other day she implied she might be open to the possibility of a retraction.”

  “Really?” Merrick’s face lit up, and he clapped Ben on the shoulder. “Well done, my boy. There’s a lesson to be learned from the fable of the tortoise and the hare. People need to realize that much can be lost by trying to storm the gates and speed ahead. I believe this is a situation where slow and steady will win the race.

  “In fact . . .” He looked out the window. “There’s the fair Miss Wagner now. Why don’t you go out and strike up a conversation while the opportunity presents itself?”

  Ben glanced down at his report. “I’ll need a little more time to finish this up.”

  “No, that can wait.” Merrick swept his arm out in an expansive gesture. “Strike while the iron is hot, my boy. This is far more important.”

  Ben didn’t need any more coaxing. Pulling his jacket from the back of his chair, he slipped it on and adjusted his tie before strolling out into the sunlit street. He spotted Amelia walking with Martin Gilbreth and his sister and angled across the street to intercept them.

  Amelia looked like she was feeling better, he noted with relief. He was glad she seemed to have recovered from her unexpected meeting with her stepfather the night before. Not for the first time, he mused about the strange coincidence of Grayson’s connection to both Amelia and Great Western.