A Clear Hope (Kansas Crossroads Book 5)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Meaning that she would have gotten it before her head injury,” Abigail said.

  “Exactly. Had she been planning this? Maybe not planning to murder him, but to leave?”

  “I don’t know.” Abigail shook her head. “If she’d planned all this, wouldn’t she have packed a satchel?”

  “Unless she purposely came to Topeka without a satchel to lend her story credibility.” Gabe picked up the reins and gave them a flick. “I’m going to send Colonel Gordon a telegram and ask him to question Mrs. Smith about that train ticket. We also need to talk to the station manager.”

  They found the telegraph office quickly enough, and Gabe sent off a note to the marshal. Three things were on his mind—the ticket, the baby, and the horse. What else had Margaret failed to mention, or forgotten entirely? Then they drove to the train station to find it closed up for the day. Gabe kicked the edge of the platform in frustration.

  “We have to wait to hear from Colonel Gordon anyway,” Abigail reminded him. “We can come back in the morning, can’t we?”

  He took a deep breath and smiled. “You’re right. I’m just being impatient. Let’s return the buggy and get some dinner, shall we? We missed lunch, and I’m always grumpy when I’m hungry.”

  “I’ve noticed that,” she said with a laugh.

  They returned the buggy and strolled back the hotel. There was nothing more that could be done until morning, so Gabe allowed himself to relax his shoulders and enjoy the cooling night air. He’d been concentrating so hard on the case all day, trying to keep his focus on work and away from Abigail, that he hadn’t even noticed the passage of time and was surprised that the day had flown by so quickly. But with relaxation came another problem—when he shifted his focus from the case, it went right back to Abigail.

  She walked along beside him, a little spring in her step as though it wasn’t the end of a long, tiring day. “Look,” she said, motioning up ahead. “What’s going on at the park?”

  They crossed the street and approached the large group of people who had assembled around a bandstand in the center of the grass, many taking seats on blankets they had spread out. When Gabe asked what was going on, one of the men replied that it was nearly time for the town orchestra’s summer concert.

  Abigail clutched his arm. “May we stay and listen, please? Oh, but never mind. You’d like your dinner.”

  Gabe glanced around. Several of the people getting themselves settled had brought picnic baskets. “You stay here and guard this spot of grass,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”

  “You want me to guard the grass? What do you expect it to do—rob the bank?”

  “Just do as you’re told, Miss Peterson.”

  He left her standing there, looking befuddled, while he ran back across the street and the rest of the way to the hotel. The staff was more than eager to help him—the badge on his shirt was influential in their decision, he was sure—and soon, he was making his way back across the street with a picnic basket and a blanket.

  Abigail was waiting right where he left her. “The grass was on its best behavior the whole time,” she told him.

  “Excellent. I’m glad to hear it.” Gabe set down the basket, spread the blanket on the ground, and then helped Abigail sit. Then he joined her. “Let’s see what the hotel put together for us.”

  As the band played and twilight took over the horizon, they enjoyed their picnic, eating fried chicken, slices of cheese, lemonade, rolls, and pecan pie.

  “It’s so nice to be brought my meals for a change,” Abigail said during a break between songs. “I could get used to this.”

  “I’m sure it’s a very welcome change.” Gabe studied her as the stars began to appear overhead. There was a toughness under her sweet exterior, a strength he knew had come from her rough past, but it hadn’t made her a bitter person. He wished he could say the same about himself—he’d grown up surrounded by abuse, and it had made him cynical and distrustful. He’d even allowed that cynicism to color his opinion of Abigail, who hadn’t deserved it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She turned to him, a curious expression on her face. “Whatever for?”

  Gabe looked down at the blanket. “I was harsh with you when I discovered Mrs. Smith had escaped. Even after Mrs. Osbourne told me you didn’t know what she was planning, I refused to let go of my anger. I was wrong, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  Abigail didn’t respond at first, but when he looked up, she met his gaze. “Of course I will,” she said. “I can only imagine how frustrated you’ve been, and I’m sorry I was part of the cause of it.”

  Just then, the orchestra conductor stepped back into place and faced the crowd. “We shall resume tonight’s concert with a piece called the Romeo and Juliet Overture by a Russian composer named Tchaikovsky.”

  The music started up again, and everyone turned back to the front to enjoy the music. Gabe reached out and took Abigail’s hand, enjoying its softness against his callused fingers, and they sat that way together for the rest of the concert.

  ***

  Gabe slept better that night than he had in a week. Now that he’d cleared the air with Abigail, he felt as though he could breathe again. Well, the air was mostly clear—there was still the matter of that kiss, and the fact that he’d very much like to do it again. He’d been an idiot to think he’d be able to get her out of his system. This wasn’t a girl who could be gotten rid of so easily.

  They had just sat down to breakfast in the hotel dining room when a messenger came scurrying over with a telegram from Colonel Gordon.

  “That was fast,” Abigail commented as Gabe read the contents.

  “The colonel doesn’t believe in lollygagging, which suits me just fine.” Gabe read the telegram again, this time aloud. “He says, ‘Denies knowing about baby, horse, and train ticket.’”

  Abigail’s brow furrowed as she reached for the marmalade. “Something’s just not adding up here. How can you have a train ticket without knowing it?”

  “Our first stop today will be the train station.” Gabe took a sip of water, then caught Abigail’s eye. “Thanks for joining me in the park last night. I haven’t had such a nice evening in a long time.”

  “I haven’t either,” she replied, looking a little shy all of a sudden, and he wondered why. Was she thinking about their kiss, like he was? Or was she embarrassed that they’d held hands the night before? Whatever it was, he’d like to get it out in the open, but over breakfast, in a dining room full of people, was hardly the right time or place. He doubted the train station would be appropriate either.

  After they ate, they walked the short distance up the street to the station, where they found a few passengers waiting for the next train. Gabe approached the ticket office. “I’m Deputy Marshal Gabriel Hanks from Topeka. Are you the station manager?”

  “I am,” answered the short, balding man behind the window. “How can I help you, Deputy?”

  “I need to know about a ticket sold to Margaret Smith.” He outlined the date and approximate time she boarded the train, explaining that the ticket must have been bought previously. The station manager shook his head.

  “I don’t recall such a circumstance,” he said. “In fact, I don’t believe Mrs. Smith bought a ticket at all. I know her and her husband, and I was manning the booth that day.” He chuckled. “Well, I man the booth every day, and Mrs. Smith did not purchase a ticket last week. In fact, the more I think about it, the more sure I am. I’d remember something like that because she so rarely goes anywhere.”

  “How long until the next train?” Gabe asked.

  “It’ll be here in about thirty minutes, if it’s on schedule,” he said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Gabe told him. “I appreciate your help.”

  “Well, that’s the oddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Abigail commented as they stepped off the platform. “She obviously rode on the train—you saw her get off—so she must have had a ticket. Mr. Brown saw it.”
<
br />   “He saw it, but he said he wasn’t sure that’s what it was.” Gabe took off his hat, wiped his brow with his forearm, and replaced the hat, angling the brim to block the morning sun. “Even if she’d been carrying something else, like a letter, she still would have needed a ticket to get on the train. How do you get a ticket without getting a ticket?”

  “I’m completely baffled.” Abigail took a few quick steps to catch up with him, and Gabe slowed his pace to match her stride. He kept forgetting that he wasn’t alone. “What’s our next task?”

  “We need to talk to the conductor. With any luck, he’ll remember that day.” Gabe paused and looked around. “Why don’t we head into the general store? The train won’t be here for half an hour, and the store looks like a pleasant place to wait.”

  They entered, and Gabe sniffed the air appreciatively. “Someone’s been baking,” he said.

  “Yes, sir. That would be my wife. She makes a cinnamon cookie that can’t be beat,” replied the man behind the counter. “Just brought out a fresh batch.”

  Abigail smiled. “If there’s one thing the deputy likes, it’s cinnamon.”

  “Well now, I’ll just set aside a few for you while you’re shopping,” the man said with a wink.

  They walked up and down the aisles. There was nothing in particular that made this store different from other stores Gabe had seen, but he enjoyed watching Abigail look around. She seemed to take delight in everything from the fabrics sold by the bolt to the variety of candies in the glass jars at the counter.

  “You have some things here I haven’t seen in Topeka,” she told the proprietor, and they were soon chatting about product availability and supply and demand. She had a natural, easy way of making friends by striking up conversations with people about their lives and their work. Gabe’s mind kept churning over the case, and he soon drifted over to the front windows and looked out. The store was situated between the train station and the rest of town, and through these windows, he had a fair view of the whole street.

  “Excuse me,” he said, turning back. “Do you know Margaret Smith?”

  The store owner paused mid-sentence, something about how licorice whips seemed to sell better than rock candy. “I do. She comes in every month or so. Gets her flour and coffee and whatnot. She grows a lot of what she needs on her little farm, so she just gets the staples.”

  “Did you see her go past here, probably looking upset?” Gabe gave the date and time, but the man shook his head.

  “I have to tell you, Deputy, there’s a constant stream of people walking past my store all day long, and it would be impossible for me to tell who walked by when. Not only that, but if I’m in the back room or the attic storeroom, I can’t see the street at all. I wish I could help, but that’s just not a question I can answer.”

  Gabe nodded. “Understood. I’ll take those cookies, and a nickel’s worth of lemon drops, and something for the lady. Abigail, what would you like?”

  “Well, I feel so bad for the rock candy, being overshadowed by the licorice whips and all, that I’ll take some of them. Just a penny’s worth, please.”

  The grocer nodded and packaged up their treats.

  Gabe broke one of the cookies in half and handed the bigger piece to Abigail as they walked back to the station. “Now that’s a good cookie,” he said after he’d swallowed his half. “I wonder if you could make something like it at the hotel.”

  “I’d certainly like to try,” she agreed. “Thank you, by the way. I haven’t had rock candy in years, since I was a little girl.”

  “You’re welcome. I figured you deserved a reward for putting up with me on this trip.”

  They stood on the platform and watched the train as it drew closer and closer, finally coming to a stop with a hissing escape of smoke and the screeching of wheels. “It’s odd, seeing the train pull up just as it does in Topeka, and yet, we’re not in Topeka,” Abigail said. “And there’s Mr. Dupree.”

  The conductor stepped off the train and stood on the platform, looking around with his thumbs in the pockets of his vest. When he saw Gabe and Abigail walking toward him, he smiled. “Hello there. Fancy seeing the two of you in the wrong town entirely.”

  Abigail laughed. “I was just commenting on that to Deputy Hanks. We had a different conductor on our way out yesterday. It’s good to see you, Mr. Dupree.”

  “What brings you to Wichita?”

  “We’re investigating a murder,” Gabe explained. “Do you recall the other day, the young woman who collapsed on the platform shortly after disembarking?”

  “Of course I do,” Mr. Dupree replied. “Things like that don’t happen every day—they’re bound to stick in the memory.”

  “Were you the conductor who took her ticket here in Wichita, or was there another man on duty at the time?” Gabe asked.

  “I’m based out of Wichita, and I was on duty for the eastbound train all day that day,” Mr. Dupree replied. “So yes, I took her ticket when she came aboard.”

  “Well, it’s the strangest thing,” Gabe said. “The station manager says he didn’t sell her a ticket. It rather sounded like he hadn’t seen her at all.”

  “She didn’t buy a ticket,” Mr. Dupree replied.

  Gabe’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry—how is that possible?”

  “She had a pass from the railroad. It’s different from a ticket—some railway bosses give them to their employees for rides home on their days off and so forth.”

  “But she didn’t work for the railroad,” Abigail pointed out. “How did she get one?”

  Mr. Dupree looked thoughtful. “Well now, that is a question, isn’t it? I didn’t realize she wasn’t connected to the railway or I would have asked her about it.”

  “I’m sure it’s not a problem, Mr. Dupree,” Gabe said. “Do you recall anything else about the situation?”

  “No. She boarded here in Wichita, rode to Topeka, and didn’t have any complaints during the journey. Just sat there quietly for the most part, slept some. Then after we reached Topeka, Mr. Brody from the hotel asked me if she’d been traveling with anyone or if she had any luggage, and I told him no on both counts. I’m afraid that’s as much as I know.”

  Gabe nodded. “Thanks, Mr. Dupree. Maybe we’ll see you on our return trip to Topeka.”

  “If you’re on the train day after tomorrow, you will.”

  The two men shook hands, and then Mr. Dupree headed over to the ticket booth to chat with the station manager. Gabe and Abigail walked away slowly, Gabe’s head spinning.

  “I never expected that in a million years,” Abigail said as soon as they were out of earshot of the train station. “Never, ever.”

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “The train pass. For railway workers—the one Margaret Smith had.”

  Gabe’s mind hadn’t been following that particular thread, and he paused. “Forgive me, Abigail. I was thinking about something else. Can you please explain your thoughts?”

  She glanced around as if worried someone might overhear. “Mr. Thomas works for the railway station. He could have given Margaret that ticket.”

  “But he wasn’t home last week.” Gabe paused. “Or was he? I think it’s time for us to pay another visit to Mrs. Thomas.”

  Chapter Nine

  Riding along beside Gabe in the rented buggy once more, Abigail couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. They had so many pieces to the puzzle—now they just needed to fit them together and see what kind of picture they created.

  Of course, part of that thrill was from being with Gabe himself. His apology had meant everything to her. She couldn’t imagine how he must feel, having to drag her along with him every step of the way when he was used to doing things by himself. He’d always struck her as being a solitary type, not inclined to attend parties unless he was there in an official capacity, and now, having to share his thoughts with someone else morning, noon, and night must be very difficult for him. But he was becoming more and
more used to the idea—she could tell from his demeanor.

  Mrs. Thomas was out in her yard when they pulled up, and she shielded her eyes from the sun to see who had come. As soon as she recognized them, she charged over to the buggy and put her hands on her hips.

  “Honestly? You again? I’ve told you everything I know. Isn’t it time to leave me in peace?”

  Gabe didn’t move to get out, which Abigail thought was wise. It didn’t look like they’d be welcome on the property. Mrs. Thomas was guarding her yard somewhat like a gander, taking a stance and prepared to chase them away should they try to come any closer. “I just have one more question for you, Mrs. Thomas,” Gabe said mildly. “Why didn’t you tell us your husband was in town last week?”

  Mrs. Thomas’s jaw went slack. “He wasn’t home last week,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, but I have a hard time believing that,” Gabe said. “Especially in light of the way you’ve been so hesitant to share other information with us.”

  “I learned my lesson, all right? I won’t lie to you or hide anything ever gain. But I’m not lying to you this time, either. My husband was not home last week. It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen him, in fact.”

  “Does he ever bring home extra railroad passes, leaving them here when he goes back to work?” Abigail asked.

  “He gets one pass per trip home, and he uses it,” Mrs. Thomas said. “He’s never brought home any extras. What’s going on now? Why do you need to know about the passes?”

  “Margaret Smith traveled to Topeka using a railway pass,” Gabe explained. “Do you have any other friends or neighbors who work for the railway who might have given her one?”

  “We used to, but they’ve moved,” Mrs. Thomas explained.

  “Mrs. Thomas, where might I find your husband?”

  She looked completely exasperated. “I told you, he wasn’t here. He can’t help you.”

  “Nonetheless, I’d like to know where he is now.”

  After Gabe took down Timothy Thomas’s most recent whereabouts, he and Abigail drove away. “Well, I’m sorry to say, we’re not done yet. Can you handle one more train ride?”