by Lisa Harris
Catherine set her fork on her half-empty plate. “Father would be proud to know he had a grandson carrying on the family name.”
Audrey wiped the corner of her eyes with her napkin and nodded. “We have many things to celebrate. I think that’s what Father would have wanted.”
“Speaking of things to be thankful for…” John pushed back his chair and stood. “I have something I’d like to say.”
The room fell silent.
“I’ve sat with you the past few days and listened to you share memories of your family and life with your father. And I’ve realized how much I want to be a part of this. Not just of memories from the past…” He looked down at Lily. “But of future memories. Our future.”
Catherine tried to gauge Lily’s reaction. Her sister gasped and pressed her napkin against her lips as he took her hand.
“Lily, you’ve known how I feel about you for quite some time, and while I know that my timing might not be the best, I’m tired of waiting. I want to be the one who loves and protects you. What I’m trying to say is that I want you to be my wife, Lily Mae Morgan.”
Lily began to sob.
“Lily?” Catherine began.
“I’m sorry.” Lily shoved back her chair and ran from the room.
John stood up. “I’m sorry. I thought…I thought she loved me.”
“She does love you.” Catherine rose from the table. “But let me go to her. She just needs time.”
Catherine found Lily upstairs on her bed, face down, crying in her pillow. “Lily?”
“Oh, Catherine.” Lily sat up and wrapped her arms around Catherine. “I couldn’t help it. How can I think about getting married when Father’s just been buried?”
“Don’t worry. He’s just an impatient man in love.”
“I don’t want to lose him, but—”
“You have nothing to feel bad about. He should have given you more time to deal with Father’s death. He’ll understand.”
Lily hugged her pillow to her chest. “I hope so.”
“Do you want me to read to you like I used to? Maybe that would help you get your mind off things for a while.”
Lily shook her head. “Go back downstairs. Audrey and Emily need you right now. I’ll be okay. I just need some time to think.”
Catherine kissed her sister on the forehead. “Are you sure?”
Lily nodded. “Tell John I’m sorry. It’s not him.”
“I will. Try and get some sleep.”
Lily lay back down on the pillow as Catherine slipped from the room and went downstairs. John stood at the threshold waiting for her.
“Is she all right? I never should have proposed like that. I just thought…” He shook his head. “I suppose I didn’t think.”
“Everything will be fine. Just give her some time. I’m sure she’ll feel like talking to you tomorrow.”
“Catherine?” Audrey stood in the doorway.
Catherine’s heart pounded. “What’s wrong?”
“There was another robbery. This time it was in Amanda.”
A sick feeling washed over Catherine. The robberies were becoming more and more frequent. There had to be an end to all of this. “And the sheriff? Did he go to Amanda?”
Audrey nodded. “I thought you would want to know.”
Catherine pressed her hand against her mouth and fought the fear, wondering why her heart felt as if it were about to break in two.
Chapter Twenty
Catherine listened to the familiar hum of the store while distributing the mail in the partitioned shelf on the back wall. Harold and Horace drank their morning coffee and played a game of chess at the table near the front door while Stanley Phillips hovered above them, watching the long-standing competition. Mrs. Long searched through several new bolts of fabric that had just arrived from Cleveland, and Gregory Allen stood at the front counter, begging his mother for licorice. Catherine glanced at the chubby-faced seven-year-old, already knowing who would win the battle. She couldn’t remember a day when the boy had left her store without a handful of penny candy in his pocket.
It might be a day like any other day, but even the normalcy of the scene couldn’t keep Catherine’s mind off Corbin.
“Any word from the sheriff yet?”
Catherine’s stomach clenched at Audrey’s question. She shouldn’t let her heart feel so much, but she couldn’t help it. She dropped another letter into its slot then turned to Audrey, who’d spent the morning dusting the shelves and arranging a crate of dry goods. “Far as I know, he didn’t return to town last night.”
“Maybe they’re trailing the robbers.”
“Maybe.” As much as she wanted the Masked Gang arrested, she didn’t want Corbin caught in the middle of a shootout. She knew the danger involved in sending a posse to capture a gang as notorious as this one. And knew that there was always the chance they wouldn’t all return alive.
She went back to sorting the rest of the mail. Whoever was behind the robberies had become arrogant after months of avoiding capture. Holdups had become more frequent as the death toll rose. Which was why she understood Corbin’s determination. But until they were captured, his life was at stake, along with the innocent bystanders who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And this part of Ohio had already seen enough trouble lately.
Audrey pulled Catherine toward the far corner of the store and lowered her voice. “You know what everyone is saying.”
“About the sheriff?”
“They’re saying he let Harrison out of jail and then another bank was struck. In other words, Harrison is guilty.”
“That’s nonsense, and you know it.”
Audrey shook her head. “What if it’s not? What if they’re right and it’s not a coincidence? We both know he could be simply covering up his tracks by another one of his tall stories. Even his working for the newspaper could be a lie.”
“If all that were true, don’t you think he’d be long gone by now?”
Audrey dropped her gaze. Her refusal to see Harrison since his release from jail had spawned numerous attempts on his behalf to win her back. Which, in Catherine’s mind, meant Harrison Tucker was simply lovesick, not a robber and murderer.
“Neither of us know where he was yesterday afternoon when that bank was being robbed,” Audrey continued. “He left the funeral early, giving him plenty of time to make it to Amanda.”
“Think about it. If Harrison was the real leader of the Masked Gang, do you think he’d stay in Revenge and risk getting arrested again? Because I can guarantee if that happened, he’ll be swinging from the end of a noose, and he knows that. And if that were the case he’d be halfway to Texas by now, or…Alaska for that matter.”
Mrs. Long appeared behind them. “Any mail for me today, Miss Morgan?”
Catherine glanced up at the woman’s empty mail slot. “I’m sorry, but not today.”
“It’s my son.” Mrs. Long pressed her hands against the front of her cotton skirt. “He’s gone to Cleveland, you know, to find work. It’s been almost a full month now, and I haven’t heard anything.”
“Maybe next week,” Catherine said. “You know how slow the mail can be.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Mrs. Long turned to Audrey. “I was so sorry to hear that your wedding was called off, though I can understand. You certainly can’t marry a man who’s been accused of murder.”
Fresh tears welled in Audrey’s eyes.
Catherine stepped forward, intent on stopping the wave of gossip in its tracks. “In case you hadn’t heard, Mrs. Long, the sheriff released Mr. Tucker because he has proof that he had nothing to do with the exploits of the Masked Gang.”
“That might be true, but it still seems—”
“My belief has always been that, until convicted of a crime, a man deserves a bit of grace,” Catherine retorted.
“I suppose, but—”
“I almost forgot to mention it, Mrs. Long.” Catherine forced a smile. “There are
several other new bolts of fabric I don’t think you noticed toward the front of the store.”
“Oh?”
“I have them on display in the front corner. I think you’ll like the blue patterned one in particular.” Catherine ushered Mrs. Long toward the front of the store where she’d laid out some of the fabric the day before.
Once Mrs. Long was settled, Catherine returned to Audrey.
Audrey shot her a half smile. “Thank you.”
“Harrison loves you.”
“I used to believe that. But now, I don’t know how I can ever trust him again.”
“Just give it time. He might have made some bad choices, but he really does love you.”
The door jingled in the front of the store and Harrison walked in.
“It’s Harrison.” Audrey ducked down. “Tell him…tell him I’m not here.”
Audrey dashed into the house, leaving Catherine to deal with the guilt-ridden suitor—again.
Harrison took off his hat and shot Catherine a sheepish smile. “Will she see me yet?”
“I’m sorry. You have to understand her point of view. You lied to her.”
“And I’ve made a complete mess of things, haven’t I? All in hopes of winning her heart.” Harrison fiddled with the rim of his hat. “Have you seen the sheriff?”
Mrs. Long signaled from the counter with a bolt of fabric. Apparently, she’d been correct about the blue fabric.
“I’ll be right there, Mrs. Long.” Catherine turned back to Harrison. “Why do you need to see the sheriff?”
“Because if he’s going to catch those scoundrels, he’s going to need extra men to back him up. I’m planning on volunteering for the job.”
While she might agree with Harrison’s assessment, she was quite certain Corbin wouldn’t accept help from Harrison. “All you’d manage to do is get yourself killed. Do you think that’s what Audrey needs right now?”
“It’s the fastest way for me to prove to her—and to this town—that I had nothing to do with the robberies.”
Catherine caught Harrison’s gaze. “And the fastest way to die trying to prove it.”
Corbin stood inside the small bank lobby, wondering what he’d missed. He fingered the triangular-based bullet he’d found. He wasn’t surprised they’d left behind the clue, because the Masked Gang never went anywhere without a rally of gunfire. But this time the good guys had been lucky. Three shots had been fired during the robbery, but the only damage left behind was the small holes left in the ceiling by the bullets. And, of course, the missing two thousand dollars in cash.
There had to be a common thread connecting the robberies. Some clue that they’d all missed. Nobody was this lucky. At some point, they’d make a mistake that would be their final downfall, but until then, he was getting tired of chasing ghosts. It was time he found a way to gain control of the situation.
The banker, Miles Sherman, sat on a chair in the far corner of the room, his bald head cradled between his knees, about to be ill.
Sick or not, Mr. Sherman was the only witness he had at the moment. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
The pale-faced banker glanced up. “I’ve already told you.”
“I want you to tell me again. If we’re ever going to catch this gang, I need to know everything you saw, heard, and said in the past hour.”
“They came in with those masks over their heads, aiming their guns straight at my heart.” Mr. Sherman held up his shaking hands. “All they said was ‘hand it over,’ and I wasn’t going to argue. The money had just been dropped into the safe, so I opened it up and gave it to them. All of it.”
Corbin frowned at the familiar story. “There has to be something we’re missing. Some sort of identifying mark on one of them.”
“I already told you. Black masks, nondescript manners.” The banker pushed up his spectacles. “I was lucky they didn’t blow a hole through me with all the guns they had pointed my direction. There’s nothing more to say. They walked in, took the money, and then they were gone.”
Corbin paced the eight-by-eight entrance of the bank. There had to be something here. The sun cast a ray of yellow light across the floor. Corbin bent down to check beneath the three-inch-deep lip of the bank counter. Something glistened. He reached down and picked up a man’s pocket watch. The fob was broken and the cover cracked.
He held up the watch. “Is it yours?”
The banker pulled his from his pocket. “Could have been dropped by anyone.”
“Maybe.”
“I sweep in here every morning before I open the bank. I would have noticed it.”
Which meant the owner of the watch had been here today. Corbin opened the cover and studied the engraving.
Mr. Sherman sat up in his chair. “Is there an inscription?”
Corbin’s heart pounded. “H.T.”
“Someone’s initials.”
Harrison Tucker.
Corbin snapped the watch shut then shoved it into his pocket. “This has gone on long enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s time someone put an end to all of this.” Whether he liked it or not, Harrison Tucker was the common denominator in all of this, and it was time he found out just who was playing them both.
Catherine unplugged the phone line before readjusting her clunky metal headset. Lily’s first impressions of the new telephone system had been correct. Already this afternoon, she’d had two requests for a recipe, another for tomorrow’s weather, and Mrs. McBride had called to see if Mrs. Watson had been by the store today. And Catherine hadn’t given in to the temptation to listen to the longwinded conversation between the two women an hour later. If she had, she’d have no doubt caught up on half the gossip in town, but that’s not what she wanted to hear. Not the way things were going.
Another call came through. Catherine plugged in the connection then paused before hanging up at the unfamiliar voice.
“I’m waiting for my shipment of goods from Revenge.”
“When do you expect them to arrive?”
“Noon tomorrow.”
The call ended.
Strange. It was almost like some sort of…code.
Code?
Hadn’t Lily mentioned someone speaking in code? Catherine shook her head. Dealing with secret codes and spy talk belonged to organizations like the Pinkertons, not an ordinary telephone operator from Revenge. She’d already spent far too much time worrying about who was behind the Masked Gang. She didn’t need to let a strange call complicate her life.
Lily entered the room with a book in one hand and an apple in the other. “I’m back, and Mrs. McBride just walked into the store.”
Catherine frowned. “I’m happy to handle things here if you want—”
“That’s quite all right.” She slid into the empty seat Catherine had vacated. “Any strange calls?”
“Strange calls? Let me see.” Catherine handed Lily the headset. “If you count calls regarding the weather and requests for recipes as strange, then yes.”
“That’s not strange, it’s normal.”
Catherine laughed. “Outside weather and recipe requests, there was one that struck me as odd.”
“What did they say?” Lily grabbed a piece of paper from the edge of the desk and held it up.
“Nothing important.”
“I need to know exactly what they said.”
Catherine stood in the threshold. Mrs. McBride was studying the barrel of pickles. “Why?”
“Because I’m keeping track of certain calls. I need you to think. Tell me everything they said.”
Mrs. McBride moved onto the row of iron pots Catherine had recently discounted. “I wasn’t paying that much attention—”
“Were any names used?”
“No.” Catherine shook her head and tried to remember. “I suppose one of the things I found odd was that there was no typical greeting or names used.”
Lily scribbled something on her paper. “What else?”
“They only talked for a few seconds. It was about a shipment of goods. Something about it being delivered.”
“Where were the goods from?”
Catherine snatched the slip of paper from Lily’s hand. On it, she’d scribbled a list of dates, locations, and hours. “What is all of this?”
“I told you I’ve been taking notes.”
“Of phone calls? Why?”
Lily rubbed her forehead. “I thought it was just a crazy suspicion at first, but not anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“What was the location?”
“Right here.”
“Revenge?” Lily’s face paled as she grabbed the paper back.
“What’s going on, Lily? It was nothing more than a quick call by a cheap customer who didn’t want to spend money.”
“I don’t think so.” Lily tapped the pencil on the paper. “Was there a time mentioned?”
“Noon.”
Lily dropped the headset onto the desk and stood up. “I need to see the sheriff.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
Lily held up her notes. “Can’t you see? It’s a pattern that has something to do with all the robberies.”
“The robberies?”
“And I’ve got to see the sheriff. Now.”
Corbin grabbed one of the extra rifles then threw open the door of the sheriff’s office, barely missing a collision with Catherine and Lily.
“When did you get back from Amanda?”
As always, Catherine was full of questions. “Just now. I’m on my way out.”
Lily stood in the door, blocking his way. “I have some information for you regarding the robberies.”
“It’s going to have to wait until I get back.” He shoved his hat on and made sure he had enough bullets.
Catherine grasped his arm. “What’s going on?”
He hesitated. “Nothing for you to worry about. I’m headed out on official business.”
“Lily might have found a way to capture the Masked Gang.”
“Catherine, I really—”
Lily shoved a piece of paper toward him. “I never made the connections until I started writing things down. The phone calls were always the same. They mention a town and a time. It has to be how they are coordinating the robberies. Amanda was the last one mentioned, and the last robbery.”
