“Well,” Thurston’s voice rose in agitation. “She believed that someone stayed behind and hid after they killed her husband and son. She also thought that the minute she walked down to the river, that same person snuck in, destroyed the chest of drawers and stole all the paperwork proclaiming her as sole owner of the property!”
Turning to face Matthew and Chance, Annie Thurston’s father said, “Here is where it pertains, I think, to the attack on my daughter. When Mrs. Brazil told Annie what had happened, she also confided that she and her husband had been hearing rumors for months, all up and down the Clark Fork, of folks either being killed or run off their legal claims!”
The fat little man shook his balding head. “Well, we hired Mrs. Brazil as a secretary, and a harder, more conscientious worker you will never find. She was helping Annie interview people in the area, taking copious notes and taking turns driving the car.”
He stared into space for a moment, and then he added, “The one thing I failed to mention in my earlier phone call was that Chloe, bless her heart, was with Annie when she was attacked. While, barring the worst, Annie will survive the attack, Chloe was bludgeoned to death!”
The car rang with silence as the three men contemplated the savage actions taken against two helpless women and then Thurston said, “Let’s head in before the staff closes the doors to visitors, shall we?”
Matthew and Chance climbed out of the fancy conveyance and followed Clyde Thurston up a long series of wooden steps into the hospital foyer. While the old man checked in, Matthew turned to his son.
“This sounds big, son. Maybe too big for us to tackle alone. What do you think?”
Chance stared into his father’s eyes. “It sounds pretty bad for sure, Pa. We might have to get a bigger team and go undercover, for sure, but we don’t want a bunch of claim jumpers getting away with murder, do we?”
Matthew closed his eyes for a moment and then he said, “Of course not. I want to talk to Annie first, but I feel sure we’ll take the case.”
Chapter Two
Annie
Annie Thurston lay in her hospital bed and dreamed. Although she was heavily sedated, the laudanum extract in her medicine made her dreams bright and colorful…almost lucid. A slight smile crossed her bruised face as she and her friend Chloe walked down a snowy boulevard. They were laughing at a joke they had heard at the newspaper office earlier that morning and preparing to climb into the car when they saw four men approaching.
They were well-dressed and Annie could smell an expensive cologne wafting toward her on the sharp breeze. Preparing to smile and call out a friendly greeting, she paused when she saw the expressions on their faces.
Each and every one of them were staring at her companion with fierce, avid eyes. Their faces were filled with ill-intent and as Annie watched, they surrounded Chloe, who stood by the passenger door of her car. Before her eyes could even register what was happening, she saw one of them hit her friend over the head with a sap.
Hearing a dreadful cracking sound, Annie cried out and ran around the front of the car. Risking a quick glance up the street, she saw that there were no people anywhere and hardly even any windows through which these men’s activities could be observed. Not knowing what else to do, Annie screamed as loudly as she knew how. “HELP! Somebody help us, PLEASE!”
Heart pounding in dread, she stood by the hood of the car, staring down at Chloe’s head leaking blood onto the dirty snow and knew that, although the men were taking turns kicking her in the head and torso, she was already dead. Her shy hazel eyes were fixed and staring, all spark of life fled. Annie screamed again, this time not in an attempt to cry out for help, but in horror of what these thugs had done to her friend.
One of the men, the one who had first struck Chloe with the club, looked up at where she stood, frozen, by the car’s hood. “Stop, the job is done.” He barked and spat on the snow by Chloe’s head, adding, “Better grab that witness, though, before she blabs…”
Annie spun on her heels and started running up the street. Her thin leather soles were too slick, however, and she slid on the ice with a squeal of fright before falling in a heap. Almost instantly, she felt herself being lifted up by the elbows. She howled in fear and was dealt a devastating punch to the jaw.
For a moment, her whole face was numb but then the pain of the blow registered. Her mouth filled with blood and she could tell her nose was broken. Suddenly, she could hardly breathe and she writhed within the ruffian’s grasp. She tried to scream again, but her wails were nothing more than muffled squeaks.
Her right eye was swelling and she could hardly see through the fear and pain, but she realized the men were dragging her toward a car parked behind her own automobile. She dug her heels into the snow and tried hurling herself backwards out of their grasp, but a heavy punch to her back sent her reeling to the ground.
She knelt on her hands and knees and vomited. She had heard a sharp crack and knew that one or more of her ribs were broken. She reeled in shock and pain and stared as blood from her nose and mouth stained the snow red.
The man with the sap walked up and Annie stared at him with angry eyes. “You will pay for this!” she muttered and saw the man grin.
“Mebbe so, ma’am,” he drawled. “But, you won’t be around to notice.” He lifted the weapon high, and Annie closed her eyes against her own impending demise.
Then she heard a shout. “Hey! What’s going on there? Get away from that woman!”
Annie wept with relief, sinking to the ground as the men surrounding her ran away. Then, police whistles and the clang of ambulance bells filled the air around her.
She awoke to the sound of her father’s voice. She also became aware of the pain which seemed to encompass every square inch of her body. Her jaw had been dislocated during the altercation, and her nose and two ribs were broken. Her right eye was swollen shut and her lips were bruised and cut. The doctor had told her she was lucky, but as she squirmed against the pain, she figured the man’s words were nothing more than platitudes. There was nothing “lucky” about what had happened to her and Chloe.
Remembering the empty look in the woman’s eyes, her own filled with tears. She lifted her right hand to wipe the moisture away and gasped at the overwhelming pain the slight movement caused. Suddenly, her hand was seized in a warm, exceedingly gentle grasp.
“Annie!” a deep, masculine voice spoke close to her ear. “How are you feeling?”
On one hand, her heart filled with joy that Matthew had come to visit her in the hospital. On the other—he was seeing her at her absolute worst! “Oh Matthew, they killed Chloe!” she choked through the tears clogging her already painful sinuses.
“I know,” he said, “and I’m so sorry this happened to you, both,” Matthew whispered, gazing down at Annie’s face in shock and anger.
Her golden brown hair was in wild disarray on the pillow which, somehow, seemed to throw her wounds into stark relief. The right side of Annie’s face was black, blue and green with bruises. There was a wide bandage across her nose disguising most of the damage, but Matthew could tell that the whole area was discolored with abrasions and contusions.
Her right eye was puffy and swollen shut and her pretty lips were split as well. She gazed up at him with her one good eye and whispered, “Did my father talk to you about the story I’ve been working on?” She licked her bottom lip, wincing at the pain.
He nodded, “Yes, he did.” Pausing for a moment, he tried to frame his questions so she didn’t have to do too much talking.
“Annie, I’m going to ask you a few questions. Hopefully, you can either nod or shake your head yes or no, okay?”
Annie smiled and nodded her head. Grinning at her little joke, he sat on the edge of the bed. He thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you think these men are connected to the claim-jumping ring your father spoke of?”
Annie nodded her head. “I’m sure of it,” she murmured softly.
Matthew smiled. “Ok
ay, that’s a start,” he said. “Did you recognize them?”
Annie shook her head, and a frustrated tear escaped from her swollen eye. “No, I can’t…”
“Shhh!” Matthew crooned. “That’s okay! I’m beginning to think that this is a pretty big ring—a criminal enterprise with a lot of moving parts. I don’t know much yet, but if what your father told me is accurate, it would take a lot of resources… and a LOT of cash to pay men to grab land-claims all up and down the Clark Fork!”
“It’s true, Matthew!” she gazed up at him, and he could see the pain of her injuries mirrored in her brilliant blue eye.
Deciding to make his exit so she could rest, he said, “Listen, I’m going to investigate this to the best of my ability. I will be bringing the law into it as well…eventually. First, Chance and I need some solid evidence of wrongdoing, okay?” He clasped her hand again, applying a little more pressure.
“It might take time to find proof so, in the meanwhile, I want you…” he turned toward Clyde Thurston, “and you to stay safely at home.” He was not surprised when Annie and her father frowned in surprise.
Clyde sputtered, “But, sir…I have a paper to run!”
Matthew sighed. “Mr. Thurston, I understand that this might be an inconvenience, but I believe you are both at risk now. You need to assume that Annie—and by extension, you, are witnesses to murder, at the very least!”
Thurston’s face turned red with frustration but he nodded, finally, in agreement. “Yes…you are probably right, Mr. Wilcox. Besides, much of my work can be done at home, and Annie needs time to recover her health.”
Matthew smiled. “I would like to arrange for police protection, sir…at least until we know who and what we’re dealing with. Is that alright with you?”
Clyde rolled his eyes, but shrugged in surrender.
Looking down at Annie’s wan face, he saw that her eye was drooping with pain and fatigue. She startled awake when he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Don’t worry, Annie. Chance and I will figure out who did this to you and your friend. Then, we…all of us, will make them pay for their crimes!”
She smiled up at him and then fell into a dreamless slumber.
Matthew stood up and glanced over at Annie’s father who had perched on the opposite side of her hospital cot. He was muttering to himself about how he was to blame…for putting his daughter in an untenable position…and how, from now on, she should just stick to the news desk, rather than put herself in harm’s way.
Clearing his throat, Matthew said, “My son and I will take the case, Sir. Like I said before, please stay by Annie’s side and when she is free to go home—stay there with her. I hope this won’t take long, but I will be sending someone by your house to help keep you and your daughter safe.”
The older man looked stunned and defeated, but he nodded in agreement. “I will, Mr. Wilcox. Here…” he fumbled in his vest pocket, finally handing Matthew a gold-embossed business card. “My address and phone number—plus, the phone number for the newspaper. Please, keep in touch, won’t you?”
Matthew nodded. “You will be hearing from us very soon, sir. I intend to bring these criminals down!”
Chapter Three
The Lindsays
Seventeen miles due east of Wallace, Idaho, a man by the name of Jacob Lindsay, his wife and his two youngest children milled around in back of their small cabin. It was the end of March and frost rimmed every surface of their property, painting the evergreens silver and filling the air with frozen, rainbow crystals. The small family broke ice away from the water troughs, threw piles of hay toward their horse and two mules and fed their milk cow.
There was additional work for Jacob to do this morning, as his two older sons were down on the river panning for gold and silver. The family had learned over the last year to hide their enterprise from prying eyes, so he and his boys took turns panning in a hidden glade on the river three hundred feet below the house.
So far, their ruse had worked. Although lean-tos, cabins and shacks all up and down the river stood empty, the Lindsay’s were still in operation… at least so far. The claim-jumpers were becoming bolder, though, and Jacob was losing heart.
Nothing in the wide world mattered to him more than his family, but their circumstances were starting to take a toll. Really, the only reason they were still here, slowly accumulating tiny pebbles of gold, was that they had started out poor to begin with. He could not yet afford the equipment needed to really succeed, and that alone had saved their bacon.
It seemed to him that it was the more successful enterprises up and down this valley that kept getting hit by the shadowy, claim-jumping thieves that descended like locusts every few weeks. Just five months earlier, their neighbors to the west had been hit—and hard. The Brazils were hard-working and exceedingly kind people, but perhaps a little too talkative and boastful about the riches on their property.
Hubris had killed Ben Brazil and his son, Billy, and fate had blown Mrs. Brazil to the far winds, much to the dismay of Jacob’s wife, Marta, who felt, for the first time since moving to this wild and far-flung country from their German homeland, that she had finally found a friend.
Well, Jacob thought, leaning his pitchfork against the rapidly diminishing haystack by the stable, I’ll be damned if my loose tongue costs me my family and my life savings!
“Go ahead and milk that cow while she’s eating, Frannie,” he called over to his seven-year-old daughter who stood a good distance away from the long-horned heifer.
“But she kicks, Papa!” Frannie whined.
“I’ll do it! Gilda likes me, Papa! Frannie pulls too hard!” his son Peter exclaimed with a snort of disgust.
Jacob started to scold his daughter when he heard a slow clop of hooves approaching from the west. Turning to his children, he barked, “You go to the house with your Mama!”
His wife and children wasted no time in high-tailing it to their small, but sturdy home. He heard the plugs fall away and knew that Marta and Peter were in the process of resting firearms (a shotgun and a rifle) on the bolt hole’s lower casings, while Frannie scrambled into the cellar through the trap door.
Jacob unsnapped his holster and rested his hand on his pistol, watching as two men turned off the road and walked their horses slowly toward the house. His heart thudded with dread but he could hardly keep his lips from twitching with mirth when he spied the lead rider’s horse. What a peculiar looking animal, he thought.
Jacob had been around horses his entire life and never seen anything like the big gelding that approached. Its creamy-white coat was covered entirely with tiny, red spots but its head was roan-colored. The horse’s mane stood straight up in red and white spikes and the beasts measly tail was nearly naked but for a colorful plume of red and white on the tip.
A handsome, middle-aged man rode the speckled roan, and an equally handsome, but much younger man rode behind him on a showy gray mare. They were nicely dressed but had ridden a while, if the mud and slush on their boots, pants and long coats was the judge of such things.
“Hello the house!” the lead rider called out, stopping his horse. “May we approach?”
Although Jacob had every reason in the world to be cautious, frightened even—something about the man’s appearance…and his comical-looking horse, put him at ease. He tipped his chin, gesturing them forward.
The two men smiled and walked their horses up the drive. Stopping about ten feet away from where Jacob stood, the older man climbed down from his saddle. He stretched with a groan, and then, noticing how Jacob stared in fascination at his mount, he grinned and said, “Lincoln—say hello!”
Instantly, the big gelding lifted his velvety lips in a toothy grin and stuck his right front hoof in the air. Then he lowered his head in a bow.
Flabbergasted, Jacob burst out laughing. The horse’s antics and his owner’s smug grin of fatherly pride tickled Jacob’s funny bone to no end, and he continued to wheeze and snort with gales of
glee, the like of which he had not felt in years.
Finally, the man stuck out his hand and said, “My name is Matthew Wilcox and this is my son, Chance.” The three men shook hands and, after handing over a business card, Matthew said, “Can we have a few minutes of your time? We represent the Wilcox and Son Detective Agency and we would like to talk to you about what’s been happening the last year or so, to the land claims in this valley.”
Jacob’s mood darkened. So, these strangers have heard about the claim jumps…I wonder if they know about the murders, too. The middle-aged man studied their faces for a moment and said, “Yes, I would like to speak of that as well. Tie your horses up at the rail and then come over here…we’ll sit and talk.”
While Chance and Matthew led their horses to a hitch-rail in front of the stable, Jacob stepped up onto the front porch. Sticking his head in the door, he said, “Go ahead and close the bolt holes, but keep the weapons handy.” Looking at his wife of twenty years, he added, “Marta, I think these are good men, but keep a close eye on them, yes? Meanwhile, please bring coffee and maybe, some of your nice cake.”
She nodded and put some grounds on to boil, while her youngest son yammered on about the trick the big, spotty roan had performed and asked if he could go outside to pet the animal. Marta had also grinned with amusement when she saw the horse’s funny greeting, but she also knew with the certainty of age and experience that the devil sometimes wore a clown suit. She snapped, “Never mind that horse! You stay here until your Papa tells you it is okay to step outside!”
Whining, but obedient, Peter opened the trap-door under the rug and let his little sister out. She instantly ran to the window to see who had come calling. She had missed Lincoln’s trick but visitors were rare and she really wanted to lay eyes on the new and interesting faces. She stared at the two men and at her papa for a second before Marta said, “Frannie, come and cut the streusel…quick!”
Second Chance (The Deadman Series Book 5) Page 2
