Truth Be Told Read online

  “Ooooh.” The sound rippled through the audience. Amelia easily identified the children’s mothers, hitching themselves up straighter with identical looks of pride. The girls in the group fairly quivered with excitement, while Jimmy’s comrades in the back row looked every bit as mortified as he did.

  Thelma Vickers clapped her hands. “You may begin, children.”

  Three little girls in the center of the front row stepped out and chanted, “Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers!” in high, clear voices.

  When they stepped back smartly to their places, those on the ends of both rows moved out to the side. “Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Ruth!”

  The boys in the rear, including Jimmy, droned the next set of names: “First and Second Samuel, First and Second Kings, First and Second Chronicles.” Their volume was audible, but their delivery lacked the fervor of the first two groups.

  The process repeated itself as the class progressed through the remaining books, with the boys becoming more animated with each turn, and finished off in grand style with a rousing shout of “Jude and Revelation!”

  The crowd erupted in wild applause and a scattering of whistles. Beside her, Amelia could feel Ben shake with laughter. When he glanced her way, she had to press her hands to her lips to keep from bursting into gales of mirth. She dug her elbow into his ribs, knowing she needed to compose herself before Jimmy looked over and saw her.

  Flushed with triumph, Miss Vickers waved the children back to their seats. The bandmaster picked up his baton, and the musicians struck up a lively number and moved on through a list of well-known melodies before wrapping up the program with John Philip Sousa’s “Washington Post March.”

  Before the final notes died away, the audience rose to their feet and cheered. Walt Ingram, representing the Odd Fellows, raised his hands to silence the crowd. “Thank you, folks, for coming out tonight. Didn’t our Fort Whipple musicians do a fine job?” He paused while another round of applause rang out. “Don’t forget, we want to invite you all to stop by the Hall for refreshments before you call it an evening.”

  The audience starting milling about, some going up to talk with the band members while others filtered into the Odd Fellows Hall.

  Homer nudged Amelia’s right arm and spoke in an undertone. “I promised Pastor Edmonds I’d help carry these pews back inside. Will you be okay without me for a bit?”

  “Of course. And take some time to enjoy yourself when you’re finished with the pews. Ben will see me home.”

  Homer aimed an appraising glance Ben’s way, then he grunted and turned to pick up one end of the nearest pew.

  Ben glanced at the men carrying the benches and pews back to their places. “I’d offer to help, but it looks like they have everything covered. Would you care for some refreshments?” He offered his arm and led her inside the hall, where a variety of baked goods had been laid out on plank tables.

  The room was so tightly packed, they moved to a sheltered spot along one wall, waiting for the crowd to thin out a bit.

  Amelia fanned herself and bobbed her head, still hearing the final march play over in her mind. “What a lovely way to spend an evening!”

  “That band is one of the best I’ve heard,” Ben agreed. “The kids were great, too. Remind me to tell Jimmy what a dashing figure he cut in that starched collar.”

  Amelia sputtered with laughter and gave his arm a playful swat. “Don’t you dare! He’s mortified enough already. He’d never forgive you.”

  Ben clutched at his arm in mock agony, then laughed along with her. “Don’t worry, I won’t tease him. I wouldn’t want to do anything to spoil such a lovely evening.” His eyes glowed as he looked down at her. “I enjoyed sharing it with you.”

  “The music was wonderful, but I’m sure it wasn’t on a par with what must have been available to you in Washington.”

  Ben chuckled. “You may be right about that, but I’d still much rather be here.”

  Amelia’s breath quickened. “Don’t you miss your family?”

  Ben’s face darkened, and the light in his eyes dimmed. “Of course I do. I never thought I’d live such a long way from them. We’ve always been close, but sometimes things just don’t work out the way we expect them to.”

  He looked around the room. “Things seem to be opening up a bit over at the tables. Would you like me to bring you some punch?” At her nod, he smiled. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

  Her eyes followed him as he walked over to take his place in line near the punch bowl. Ben didn’t talk much about his background. She wondered what he had been like as a little boy. Had he been every bit as rambunctious as young Jimmy? The thought brought a smile to her lips.

  “Did you enjoy the concert, Miss Wagner?”

  Amelia turned to see the pastor’s wife standing beside her. “Very much. What a wonderful idea to bring the band up here and draw the whole community together!”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Mrs. Edmonds’s face glowed. “I do hope we’ll have more opportunities like this as the summer wears on.”

  “I’m sure you will,” said a deep voice just behind Amelia. “Granite Springs is turning into quite the up-and-coming community.”

  Amelia whipped her head around and caught her breath when she saw Thaddeus Grayson at her elbow, a shade too close for comfort. She edged a step to her right to put some distance between them.

  Grayson said nothing, but she caught the trace of amusement in his eyes.

  Mrs. Edmonds’s gaze darted between the two of them and settled on Grayson. “Good evening. I am Isabel Edmonds. My husband is pastor of the community church. And I believe you are Amelia’s stepfather, is that correct?”

  Amelia felt the muscles tighten at the back of her neck.

  “That’s right.” Grayson squeezed the woman’s outstretched hand. “Her mother and I only married recently, but I couldn’t be fonder of Amelia if she were my own.”

  Amelia folded her arms across her chest and pressed her lips together.

  “I know it’s going to be hard for her to say good-bye to the people she cares about here, but her mother and I look forward to her return to Denver so the three of us can be together.”

  The pastor’s wife’s eyes widened, then she turned to Amelia with a gracious smile. “I didn’t realize you were planning to leave us, dear. I’m sure your mother will be happy to have you at her side again, but we’ll be sorry to see you go.”

  Before Amelia could set the record straight, Mrs. Edmonds’s attention was caught by a stir at one of the tables across the room. “We seem to be running short of refreshments over there. Please excuse me while I fetch another platter.”

  As Mrs. Edmonds walked away, Amelia whirled on her unwelcome companion. “Whatever possessed you to say that? I thought I made it quite clear that I have no intention of leaving Granite Springs.”

  Grayson closed the narrow gap between them in one easy stride. Amelia took a quick step back, which brought her up short against the wall.

  The gleam in her stepfather’s eyes made her stomach roil. He leaned close and spoke as if he hadn’t heard. “I can’t tell you how much I look forward to the times we’ll have together . . . as a family.” He braced one arm on the wall, mere inches from her shoulder.

  Amelia felt the familiar feeling of helplessness that encompassed her whenever Thaddeus Grayson came around. Nothing would have given her more pleasure than to slap the insolent smirk off his face. But such action would only make a scene, and any explanation would be her word against his. She knew all too well how easy it would be for him to explain it all away.

  Across the room, Ben stood with his back to her, patiently waiting to be served at the punch table. Throughout the hall, people milled about, talking and laughing. A few glanced her way and smiled, but no one seemed to realize her plight.

  Just the way it happened in Denver. How many times had he done this over the past year, maneuvering her into an intimate conversation in a crowded room? So f
ar, his intrusion had been nothing more than suggestive words, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before he pressed the issue further.

  She took a step to the side, feeling the wall’s rough plaster scrape her shoulder blades through the fabric of her dress. “You and I both know you are the reason I won’t return to Denver. My father left the Gazette to me, and I intend to make a go of it. I won’t be dependent on my mother’s money . . . or yours.”

  The amusement faded from Grayson’s eyes, and his lips thinned. “You can’t really be thinking of spending the rest of your life in this backwater town when Denver has so much more to offer you. You’d be throwing yourself away here. And that would be a terrible waste.” His eyes raked the front of her dress with a slow, lingering look.

  He opened his mouth as if to say more, when a hand clamped on his shoulder, turning him away from her. Amelia choked back a sob of relief when she saw Ben standing there.

  “Good evening, Mr. Grayson. I didn’t know you were in attendance.” Ben’s mild tone contrasted markedly with the stony look on his face. Without taking his eyes off the other man, he extended his arm toward Amelia. “Here’s your punch, Miss Wagner. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  She moved next to him, feeling like a storm-tossed ship coming in sight of a safe haven. Taking the cup in her left hand, she curled her right around his arm and clung tight.

  Grayson eyed Ben with a measuring gaze, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “We were just discussing what needs to be done for Amelia to put her affairs in order so she can accompany me back to Denver.”

  A brief nod was Ben’s only response. “If you’ll excuse us, sir, we need to be moving along.”

  Amelia felt Ben’s muscles bunch under her fingertips as he turned to lead her out of the hall. She set her punch glass down on a table as they exited and gripped his arm with both hands.

  The sun had gone down behind the hills, and gas lamps flickered along the street. They moved from one pool of light to another without speaking. Near Walt Ingram’s hardware store, Ben stopped in a pocket of shadow and studied her closely. “Are you all right?”

  “I am now.” She had to force the words out past the lump in her throat. “Thank you for stepping in when you did.”

  Ben’s lips parted in a slow smile. “Always happy to rescue a damsel in distress.”

  Amelia drew a shuddering breath and tried to calm her racing heart. “How did you know I needed rescuing?” The words came out on a shaky laugh. “No one else in the room did.”

  “Maybe I was the only one who really saw you. Something about the look on your face told me you felt uncomfortable.” His voice hardened. “And I didn’t like the way Grayson was crowding you.”

  Amelia could feel her pulse pounding in her throat. Right now, Ben was standing even closer than her stepfather had—but his nearness didn’t bother her at all.

  A troubled expression crossed his face. “You aren’t really planning to leave, are you?”

  She shook her head, dislodging a curl near her temple. “That’s a total fabrication. I’m not going anywhere, and certainly not with him.”

  “What about your mother? Does she need you there?”

  Amelia caught her bottom lip between her teeth at the reminder of her ongoing dilemma. “I care about her, and I try to honor her as God would have me do. At the same time, she and I are very different. My mother makes her own choices, and she has chosen to link her lot with Thaddeus Grayson. I can’t change that . . . but I can’t support her in it, either.”

  “I’m glad you’re staying.” Ben’s voice took on a husky tone. “It wouldn’t be the same here without you.” Lifting his hands, he cupped her face between his palms and leaned forward.

  Amelia fastened her eyes on his, then let her gaze trail down his face to focus on his lips, so tantalizingly close. In another breath, they would meet hers. A tiny sigh escaped her lips, and her eyelids fluttered closed.

  Footsteps clattered down the boardwalk, accompanied by a boyish shout. “Miss Amelia! Mr. Stone! Did you hear me tonight?”

  Amelia and Ben sprang apart as Jimmy Brandt raced toward them. His hair had returned to its usual disarray, and a collar stud had slipped its moorings, leaving one end of his collar sticking out to one side. There was no trace of his earlier embarrassment in the broad grin he bestowed on them.

  Amelia caught her breath, hoping she didn’t look as flustered as she felt. She shot a quick glance at Ben, then reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair. “We certainly did. You did a fine job. I’m sure your parents are very proud of you.”

  Jimmy puffed out his chest and beamed even more. “I’d be glad to give you the inside scoop when you write up the story.”

  “Hey, Jimmy!” called a child’s voice from across the street. “Want to play tag with us before it gets too late?”

  With a whoop, Jimmy ran off to join his friends. Amelia turned back to Ben, feeling suddenly shy.

  “Amelia.” His voice breathed her name as he linked his fingers through hers and stepped close again. A tingle ran upward from her fingertips to her shoulders.

  Farther up the street, the door of the Odd Fellows Hall burst open, and people began spilling out into the night.

  Amelia gazed up at Ben, wondering if he felt as bereft as she did. With every fiber of her being, she longed to reach up and trace his lips with her fingers, feel his strong arms encircle her. But their private moment had come to an end.

  She squeezed his fingers between hers, hoping the gesture conveyed some of the feelings she longed to express. Without speaking a word, Ben tucked her hand into his arm and they continued on their way toward the newspaper office.

  But the look in his eyes promised there would be another time.

  Chapter 20

  During the interlude, a recitation by Miss Thelma Vickers’s Sunday school class met with rousing success. The second half of the concert . . .

  The bell over the front door jingled. Amelia looked up from setting the type for her story on the previous night’s festivities. Won’t Jimmy feel proud when he sees his name in print! She felt her spirits lift when she saw Ben step inside and close the door behind him.

  She shot a glance toward Homer, who was busy locking the week’s ads into the chase. Seeing a smile of welcome on her old friend’s face, she brightened even more. When she recounted the incident with her stepfather the night before, she knew Homer regretted not being there to protect her, but his gratitude for Ben’s intervention had been genuine. Homer seemed to be accepting his presence more with each passing day.

  Ben walked past the counter with a nod for each of them. Moving closer to Amelia, he said, “I know you have to get the paper out tomorrow, but do you have a few minutes? I’d like to speak with you in private, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.” Amelia set down the composing stick without hesitation and led him back to the office. The weekly deadline was fast approaching, but her story on the concert was nearly finished. Another article, on the expansion in progress at Martin Gilbreth’s sawmill, still needed to be fleshed out, but she could find time to do that. That still left her with a fair amount of space on the front page, though. Unless she uncovered something substantial to report about Great Western, she wasn’t sure what she would use to fill that.

  Ben leaned against the office desk, his eyes troubled. “It’s about that research I agreed to do the other day.”

  She reached out and laid her hand on his sleeve, her fingers tightening on his arm. “You were able to go over the papers on the purchase of Bart McCaffrey’s land?”

  A crease deepened between his eyebrows when he nodded. “It wasn’t as straightforward as I expected. As you know, McCaffrey turned down an offer on the sale of his property. What neither one of us knew, though, was that the offer came from Great Western.”

  Amelia released his arm and took a step back. “They wanted to buy his land in the first place? But—”

  “Putting in the reservoir was their i
dea. The company made an agreement to buy water from him.”

  Amelia felt her heart begin to pound with strong, steady beats. “Then there never was any intention of supplying water to the farmers nearby. But that explains why he took out the loan.”

  “Right, but then they retracted the offer . . . after the reservoir was completed.”

  “So that’s why he wasn’t able to pay off the loan, which resulted in the foreclosure, meaning . . .” Her eyes widened.

  The muscles along Ben’s jawline tightened. “Great Western got the land after all, plus the reservoir. And at the lowest price imaginable.”

  At last! Maybe she would be able to run an account of Great Western’s shady dealings as tomorrow’s front-page story, after all. Amelia’s sense of exultation was tempered somewhat by Ben’s obvious distress.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, already composing the opening paragraphs in her mind. “I know that had to come as a shock to you.”

  “That isn’t all.”

  Amelia’s mental composition ground to a sudden halt. “What do you mean?”

  Ben crossed his arms. “Seeing the way they dealt with McCaffrey made me wonder if anything like that had happened to other people, so I looked through the rest of the files.”

  Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, he drew out a sheaf of folded papers. “I found three instances—all handled by Eddie Franklin.”

  Barely able to contain her excitement, Amelia leaned over as he spread the pages out on the desk. Her lips moved as she read each document in turn. “Ephraim Seaver, Gabe . . . Wait a minute!”

  Spinning around, she hastened to the file cabinet and opened the drawer containing her father’s notes on Great Western. Retrieving the slip of paper she wanted, she carried it back to the desk and held it out to Ben.

  “Look at this: Ephraim Seaver, Gabe Rogers, Josiah Smith. The names on those papers are the same ones my father noted down. He must have learned something that pointed him to the same thing you discovered. I wanted to talk to the three of them, but they have all left town.” She looked up at Ben. “You say the same thing happened to them as to Bart McCaffrey?”