“The last time?” He thought for a moment. “Not since Katherine died. That was her project. She told me she always wanted a tree house as a child. She and the children took over the hayloft. It wasn’t my favorite place. All that small furniture… The last time I was there I banged my head on a rafter.”
It was hard to envision him in such a confined area. Even she had trouble sitting on the child-sized chairs.
She hesitated a moment before asking the next question. “Do you think Katherine put the money there?”
“Katherine?” The surprise in his voice sounded genuine. “Why would you think such a thing? She’s been gone for two years.”
“The money’s been there for at least that long.” Toby had said he didn’t know how or when the money got there; he only knew it had been there for a long time.
“But that meant that she—” He shook his head. “Katherine was an honest woman. A good Christian. She would never do such a thing.” He paused. “But—”
She stiffened. “What? Tell me.”
“Her brother insisted Katherine stored something for him. A satchel of personal papers. Deeds to some properties he owned. That’s what we were arguing about that day in the shop. Even after all this time, he thinks I’m keeping it, whatever it is, from him. Maybe the satchel you found was his.”
She felt a surge of hope. Could this be the breakthrough she’d been praying for? “But why would he wait two years before trying to retrieve it?”
“He didn’t. He first approached me about it before the funeral. Even insisted on following me around the house while I did a search. Made me check the attic—everything.
“He left town shortly after the funeral, and that was the last I heard from him until—”
“After the school fund-raiser.” The timing always bothered her. She glanced at Rikker, who continued to pace back and forth on the porch watching for trouble.
“Who else had access to the hayloft?”
“No one,” he said. “I mean, anyone could have climbed the ladder.” He frowned. “Do you suppose Katherine put it there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“But why hide it in the children’s playhouse?”
“I don’t know.” Was that why Katherine went outside on that dark, rainy night? To hide the satchel? “Maybe she discovered the stolen money inside.”
“But why hide it?”
It was a good question for which she had no answer. Unless… Recalling the letter she found in the attic, something occurred to her. “What if she found the money and knew it was stolen. Maybe she wanted to give her brother a chance to turn himself in.” It would certainly explain the ultimatum she wrote. If Cotton didn’t do what she asked, she would go to the sheriff herself.
Garrett thought a moment. “That sounds like something she might do. She was always trying to get her brother to do the right thing.”
Maggie felt a surge of hope. She was on the right track. She felt it in her bones. Of course, this left yet another disturbing question. What did any of this have to do with Katherine’s death?
While Rikker fiddled with the jailhouse lock, Maggie poked her head outside. Except for the distant screech of a fiddle, all was quiet.
“What if they come back?” The thought turned her insides to ice. She had a real chance of getting to the truth and possibly saving Garrett, but she needed time.
Rikker gave the lock a sharp tap before answering. “I’ll stay here and keep watch till the sheriff arrives in the morning.”
She patted him on the back. He was such a dear man, and she thanked God every day for bringing him into her life.
“Let me stay. You have to testify tomorrow, and you need your rest.”
“You need your rest, too,” he said. “Now quit worrying and go.”
She was anxious to run her latest theory by him, but he was already pushing her out the door. “What about tomorrow night and the night after that?”
“Let’s get through this night and we’ll worry about the rest later.”
“Rikker—”
“Go!”
She continued to argue, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Finally she gave in and returned to the hotel—for all the good it did her.
Instead of using the few hours left till dawn for some much-needed sleep, she practically paced a hole in the carpet. Would Garrett ever forgive her? And what if she couldn’t find the proof needed to save him?
Falling to her knees, she prayed. The truth was out there somewhere, and with God’s help, she would do everything possible to find it. As for Garrett… Please, God, help him to forgive me.
Was she asking the impossible? Probably. Why should he forgive her? When had she ever shown forgiveness? No matter how hard she tried, she still felt bitter toward her father.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She covered her face with her hands. It’s what brought her to this time and place, and look what it got her. Her need to punish her father might well send an innocent man to his death.
Her eyes flew open. Punish?
The thought set her back on her heels. Tracking down thieves and murderers was her way of making up to society for her father’s crimes. Or at least that’s what she had always told herself. But were her reasons really so noble?
The question weighed heavily on her mind as she sat at the desk to write a detailed report to headquarters.
Allen Pinkerton demanded meticulous record-keeping. Reports had to be written in cryptic with indelible ink. She was required to give a full description of a suspect, including every known trait, both good and bad. Every relevant conversation had to be recorded verbatim and the time line accurate to the last minute.
Allan often complained that some of his male operatives didn’t put enough details into their reports. Brevity was not Maggie’s problem, wordiness was. She never described eyes as merely blue or brown. It was always shades of cobalt (like Garrett’s) or nut brown; azure or chocolate.
Tonight she described Cotton’s eyes as gunmetal gray. Rikker said he had no prior record but there had to be something, and she hoped that a more detailed description would uncover something in the Pinkerton rogues gallery that had been previously overlooked.
Chapter 34
Maggie rose just as a glimmer of light broke through the darkness. Yawning, she stretched her arms overhead, but her limbs felt heavy. No wonder. Disturbing dreams kept her twisting and turning during the short time spent in bed. It was all she could do to drag herself across the room to the washstand.
Following her morning ablutions, she dressed and left the hotel. The streets were deserted as she hurried to the jailhouse. It promised to be another warm day, but even the glorious pink sunrise couldn’t lift her spirits. Much to her relief, the sheriff’s horse was hitched out front and all looked peaceful and quiet.
Spotting Rikker as he left the sheriff’s office, she picked up her pace and quickly fell in step by his side. “Any problems?”
Despite his whiskered chin and mussed hair, he looked remarkably spry for such an early hour. “None that can’t be fixed with cackleberries, bacon, and some strong hot coffee.”
“And Garrett? Is he—?”
“He’s fine. Though neither one of us got any sleep with all that snoring in the next cell.” He regarded her with a slanted look. “You don’t look like you got much sleep yourself.”
“How could I? I kept worrying about you.”
“You were worrying about Thomas.”
“I was worried about you both. A man of your age—” Too late she bit her tongue. She could feel his hackles rise as they tended to do whenever the subject of age came up.
“I can do everything I could do as a young man,” he said. “I’d just rather not, is all.”
She glanced at his profile. It was the first time he’d admitted to not wanting to do anything. He wouldn’t admit it for the world, but he was obviously feeling his age. A detective’s life was hard, even on the young.
Q
uickly changing the subject, she said, “I’d feel better if we could put Garrett under twenty-four-hour guard.”
“Yeah, well, there’re just the two of us,” he said. “Let’s hope for the best. The trial should soon be over.”
If he was trying to make her feel better, he failed miserably. Punishment was swift in the West. Once a guilty verdict was announced, a short walk to the gallows quickly followed.
“Do you think we should wire headquarters for reinforcements?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It’ll take too long for anyone to arrive.” Rikker sounded as frustrated as she felt. “Besides, the bank has its money. They’re not likely to pay Pinkerton to keep investigating a case that appears to be solved. I’m afraid we’re on our own.”
“We know that two crooks robbed the train. What about the second one?”
He shrugged. “Like I said. The bank got its money back.”
She swallowed her frustration. A man died in that robbery, and his family deserved justice. “I have a theory.”
“Of course, you do, Duffy.” It was a joke between them; he always had a plan and she always had a theory.
“I’m pretty certain that Katherine placed the money in the tree house.”
“Are we talking about Katherine, Thomas’s wife?”
She nodded. “I think that’s why she was out in the storm the night she died. Cotton apparently asked his sister to hold on to something for him. A satchel… If it’s the same one I found in the tree house, then there’s no question that he’s one of the thieves.”
“Hmm.” He gave her a cockeyed look. “Would you happen to have a theory as to how to prove it?”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d come up with one of your brilliant plans.”
“You know me. I can’t think on an empty stomach.”
“You better get some sleep,” she said.
“I will. Just as soon as I catch a bite.”
“I’ll take tonight’s shift.”
“No, you won’t,” he said as if he expected that to be the final word.
She stopped mid-step and whirled about to face him, hands on her waist. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping watch.”
He studied her from beneath a crinkled brow. “I don’t doubt it for a moment, but I’m not capable of letting you. If you recall, there were five of them, none of whom looked like a choirboy.”
She dropped her arms to her side. As much as she hated to admit it, Rikker was right. The only weapon she packed was a derringer—a handy gun for protecting herself at close range, but hardly practical for holding back a mob.
“You can’t keep staying up all night.” She was pretty certain he was putting on a show for her benefit. Already he had gone above and beyond what friendship required. Staying up all night was one thing when you were in your twenties or thirties, but not at Rikker’s age.
“What choice do I have? That lynch mob could come back.”
She shuddered at the thought. “I’m still confused about Cotton’s motivation. Why try to hang a man who already has his neck in the loop? It makes no sense.”
“Revenge seldom does.”
“You think that’s all there is to it? Revenge?”
He shrugged. “He blames Thomas for keeping that money hidden.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe he’s afraid Garrett will take the stand. He’s the only one who can tie Cotton to that satchel.” The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. “When Linc refused to lie on the stand and say that Garrett dropped that hundred-dollar bill, Cotton must have panicked.”
“But why?” Rikker asked. “How would Linc’s lie have helped him?”
“It wouldn’t unless Garrett testified that the satchel was Cotton’s. Linc’s testimony would have placed the stolen money in Garrett’s hand.”
“Ah, so that’s what the lynch mob was about. Keeping Garrett from testifying and implicating Cotton.”
“What I don’t understand is why he doesn’t just leave town?” she asked. “Why stay around and take a chance on Garrett implicating him?”
“I think I can answer that question,” Rikker said. “Katherine’s father cut Cotton out of his will. Apparently he was disgusted that his son hadn’t done anything constructive with his life. Katherine got everything, but she placed almost all of her inheritance into a trust for the children. So if something happened to Garrett and his aunt, Cotton would be the only living relative. That would make him the conservator.”
The thought made her shudder. “What do you bet the children would never see a penny of that money?”
The implications sent a chill down her spine. It certainly explained why Cotton wanted to see Garrett dead. She didn’t even want to think about what that might mean for Aunt Hetty.
They started walking again. The church steeple in the distance gave her an idea. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later.”
She quickened her step, and he called after her, “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
She waved her hand over her head and kept going. “To solve the guard problem.” And maybe even find a miracle.
The morning sun cast a ray of golden light onto the church steeple as she followed the winding footpath to the back of the church. She found Reverend Holly sprinkling flowers with a gray metal watering can. Even at this early hour he wore a bow tie.
He looked up when she approached.
“Ah, the lady detective,” he said. “What brings you here on this fine day that God has made?”
“Garrett Thomas,” she said.
The reverend shook his head. “I’ve known Garrett for a long time. Can’t believe he did the things they say.”
“He didn’t.”
Holly’s eyebrows shot up. “You sound pretty certain.”
She nodded. “I am.”
“Hmm.” Today he was hatless, and his round bald spot shone like a newly minted penny. “I can’t tell you how upset I was when he stopped coming to church. I prayed that he would change his mind. When he showed up that Sunday, I thought God had answered my prayers. But he looked none too happy to see me yesterday when I visited him in jail. Said the only reason he came to church was to keep an eye on his son.”
The memory of attending church with Garrett and the children felt like another knife to the heart. “Did you know he had a bad experience with the church when he was in Andersonville prison?”
He nodded. “I did know that.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Funny thing about a war. It almost always changes a man’s faith. Sometimes for the good, but not always.” He tilted the can over a cluster of yellow flowers, and water poured from its spout. “Never met a lady detective before.” He looked up. “It seems that you and I are in a similar business.”
“How so?”
“The Bible is filled with mystery, and it’s up to me to help my flock unravel the clues. I guess that makes me a detective of sorts.”
“Never thought about it that way.”
He shrugged. “Considering the nature of human beings, the biggest mystery is why God loves us so much.”
“I often wonder that myself,” she said. The kindly minister at the orphanage had told her that God even loved her father. She didn’t believe it then, and she wasn’t certain she believed it now. Why would God love a man so hateful when she, his daughter, could not?
“Why is God so mysterious?” she asked.
“I’ll answer that question with another.” He moved over to water a scruffy-looking shrub with silvery leaves. “What do you do after you solve a crime and all the questions have been answered to your satisfaction?”
“Do?” She frowned. “I close the file and go on to the next case.”
“You see? That’s just it. If there were no mysteries in the Bible, we would close the book and go on to something else. Mysteries require answers, and that’s what keeps us searching. God loves a seeker, and if we’re diligent enough, He sometimes even rewards us with insight and understanding.”
 
; Maggie flushed with guilt. She read her Bible faithfully but never really studied it, not like she studied her cases.
He set the watering can on a tree stump. “So tell me, what are you seeking today?”
“Help,” she said. “I’m seeking help.” She explained the problem as quickly as possible.
Reverend Holly shook his head. “A lynch mob, you say?”
She nodded. “Yes, and we need people willing to stand guard at night. Do you think the church members will help?”
“Miracles have been known to happen around here.” His wink told her that he knew more than he’d let on about Toby and the moving cross. “Who knows?” He chuckled. “Maybe we’re in store for another.”
Chapter 35
The morning routine at the jailhouse never varied. Sheriff Summerhay was a man of habit. He greeted his prisoners each day with a surly “Good mornin’,” then sat at his desk, lit his stogie, and settled down to read the newspaper.
Someone from the hotel delivered breakfast, and the coffee was consistently weak, the eggs watery, and the bacon tasted like leather. It didn’t matter. Garrett had tasted worse; a lot worse. At least he wasn’t required to fight off vermin like he did at Andersonville.
After breakfast the sheriff walked over to the cell as usual and ordered Garrett to sit on the cot with his hands in front of him. The trial didn’t begin till nine, but the sheriff always walked him to court early, before the town awoke. An empty street made it easier to secure his prisoner.
The sheriff snapped a pair of handcuffs on Garrett’s wrists.
Garrett stared at the manacles, and his mind traveled back in time. All those months he’d been held captive in Andersonville, never once had he given up hope. Not even on the darkest of nights or grimmest of days. The determination to survive had burned in his chest like a torch.
Today, it burned like acid.
Somehow he had to prove his innocence. For Toby’s sake; for Elise’s. His children had lost their mother, and that had been tough enough. But to lose their father, too? God, don’t let that happen.
Maggie believed him, and that helped more than words could say. Yes, she’d lied to him. Yes, she’d forced herself into his house under false pretenses and had taken advantage of his trust.
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