The Circle Eight: Nicholas (19 page)

“It’s rather gloomy and sad.” Very unlike the house Josie lay dying. This house was dying like its master. Winnie shivered and folded her arms to ward off the chill.

“It’s a death house.” Nick had stopped at the remnants of a fire in the hearth, which was now a pile of ashes.

“I am not dead yet.”

Winnie whirled around and saw a skeleton walking into the room. Michael Fuller had never been a big man, but he was of average height and build with a head of hair as thick as a dense forest. No more.

He had shrunken to the size of a twelve-year-old boy, thin and gaunt, where his clothes hung off his body.
His skin was the grayish and sagged where he had been formerly healthy. The man had the air of death about him and Winnie had to tell herself not to step back.

“Mr. Fuller.
How lovely to see you.” Winnie almost winced at the foolish choice of terms. “I hope you remember me.”

“Troxler, right?” The man used two canes and shuffled, with obvious pain, to a wingback chair near the now cold fire.

“Mr. Troxler was my father, yes. I am Winnie Watson Graham and this is my husband Nicholas Graham.” She managed to say the name Troxler without vomiting, which was a miracle.

“What can I help you with?” Mr. Fuller swept his arm to encompass the decay around him. “As you can see, I have stopped entertaining.
I was going to have Miss Hettie escort you out, but I admit I was curious as to why you are here.”

Winnie didn’t know how honest to be with the man, but he had been truthful with her.
She trusted her instincts and they told her he had nothing to lose.

“I am here because of Fuller’s Home.”

She let that sink in, watching his expression. A sadness settled over his features.

“One of the best ways to spend my money. It broke my heart when it closed.” Mr. Fuller shook his head.

“Why did it close?” This from Nicholas. He stood to the side, his scowl in place.

“I ran out of funds and grew sick. There was no one left to keep the orphanage open
after the housemaster passed on.” Mr. Fuller looked at her. “This cannot be the only reason you are here.”

“No, it’s not.” Winnie sat in the chair across from him. She clasped her hands together to hide the
shaking. “Nine years ago, I had a child. At the time I could not be a mother to her. A friend of mine took her to Fuller’s Home.”

The man’s brows rose. “You are looking for her.”

“I looked for her and found her. She hadn’t been adopted because of a crooked leg—”

“Martha.”

Winnie swallowed the curse that nearly escaped. “Yes, Martha.”

“She
is your daughter?”

“I realize she doesn’t look like me but you can be sure she was mine. The woman who delivered her identified her and the birthmark she bears.” Winnie had to keep telling herself to breathe. This was too important to let her anger overcome her. “Since Martha was not adopted, and the home was closing, her fate was less than acceptable.”

Mr. Fuller frowned. “I don’t understand. She was adopted.”

“No, she wasn’t. Your former employee, Bertha, told us the same thing but when we went to the couple who had taken her in, we discovered Martha had not been adopted.” Winnie gritted her teeth and paused. Nicholas’s hand landed her shoulder and she leaned into his touch. He gave her the strength to do what she had to. “She was sold.”

Mr. Fuller’s eyes widened. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me. She was
sold
. Mr. Conklin bought her. He has a bill of sale. My daughter is now a
slave
, Mr. Fuller.” Her voice shook with the barely controlled fury inside her. “Bertha has now disappeared and I cannot take my daughter home because a man owns her.”

“I don’t understand. How is that possible?”

“You tell me. It was your orphanage. Who else would know how it operated or how the children were treated?” Winnie leaned even further forward toward him. Nicholas’s fingers tightened. “How many were sold? How much money did you make by selling these innocent children?” By now she shouted her words, her voice hoarse and aching with guilt and agony.

Her heart broke for the little girl she had refused, whose childhood was cut short by the greed of those charged with protecting her.

Mr. Fuller grew paler, if that was possible. “I did no such deed. Those children were not sold. I would not have allowed it.”

“You’re wrong or you’re a liar.” Winnie clenched her hands into fists. “You
will help us fix this.”

The silence in the room lay thick and heavy. Winnie managed to pull in a breath
although she shook like a leaf.

Mr. Fuller sank into the chair. “I do not doubt your word, Mrs. Graham. I do not think you would come to my house and speak falsehoods with your heart in hand.”

“Then what are you going to do about it? I reckon we ain’t doing a thing by sitting here and listening to the clocks tick.” Nicholas wasn’t one to keep his thoughts to himself.

“I do not believe there is anything I can do.” Mr. Fuller sounded exhausted.

“The hell you can’t,” Nicholas growled. “You might not have known somebody sold those young’uns, but your goddamn name was on the building. You had better think of something. We will get our daughter back even if we have to steal her.”

Winnie didn’t know how to react to his words. He’d said “our daughter” and “steal her”.
At that moment, she had never loved him more.

“Who did you say bought Martha?” Mr. Fuller asked.

“Conklin at the feed store.” Nicholas’s tone was clear on what he thought of him.

The older man frowned. “I remember him. He had wanted to adopt children more than
once but I never allowed it. Did you say Bertha gave you his name?”

“Yes, and now she’s disappeared. Mr. Conklin knows who we are and we won’t be able to enter his store again.” Winnie hated the desperation in her voice.

“Bertha was a valued employee who loved those children. I cannot believe she would be involved in selling the young ones.” Mr. Fuller inched his way forward in the chair, his cheeks had regained some color. “Where did you speak with her?”

“She was working at the Fritz house as a nurse for their children. In the hours between we spoke to her and returned to the house, she had been dismissed. We were told to speak with you.”

“Me? I have not spoken to her in quite some time. At least a year.” Mr. Fuller rubbed his chin.

“Why didn’t you let Conklin adopt any young’uns?” Nicholas stared at the older man, his expression carved from granite.

Mr. Fuller glanced away. “I saw the way he spoke to his wife, as if she were a dog. I cared about those children and didn’t think Mr. Conklin had it in those children’s best interest to adopt them. He wanted slav—” His gaze snapped back to Winnie’s. “I apologize, Mrs. Graham.”

She waved away his apology. Now wasn’t the time for recriminations. It was time to get her daughter. “What about Bertha? Did she ever act suspicious about Mr. Conklin?”

“Not that I recall. As I said, she was devoted to the children. I never saw her raise her hand or her voice in anger.” Mr. Fuller rubbed his stubbled chin with one gnarled hand.

The housekeeper
Hettie came into the room with more speed than Winnie thought she possessed. Her eyes were wide and her face ashen. “Mr. Fuller, sir, there is a man wearing a silver star here to see you. Says his name is Layton.”

Winnie looked at Nicholas and he bore the same expression of disbelief. Layton was the same man of the law who
’d investigated her father’s death. Who held Vaughn in his jail for months, preventing him from reaching Elizabeth’s side. Was he following Nicholas and Winnie now?

“Show him in. I believe this situation calls for the police.” Mr. Fuller attempted to get to his feet.

“Please don’t trouble yourself, sir.” Layton strode into the room, wearing his customary dark clothes and wide-brimmed hat. Hettie skedaddled back out the door. He doffed the hat and surprise crossed his face when he noticed the other two occupants of the room. “Miss Watson and Mr. Graham.” His tone was one of suspicion.

“Layton.” Nicholas sounded as happy as she felt to see the policeman.

“It’s Mrs. Graham now,” Winnie managed to say without tripping over her words.

“It’s mighty strange to see you two here right after another murder.
I don’t trust either of you so I’ve had one of my deputies watching you. He let me know you were here. I ought to pull you in for questioning.” Layton narrowed his gaze at Winnie. “And don’t think I forgot you conveniently fainted when that shyster escaped from my jail.”

“I had nothing to do with Mr. Montgomery’s escape. I am a good citizen of Houston and I resent your implication.
Aside from that, I am the one who shot Mr. Troxler in self-defense. Vaughn had nothing to do with his death and you know it.” Winnie spoke half-truths but she did so with fire in her gaze. His words finally sank in. “Wait, what murder?”

Layton’s mouth thinned. “We found a woman’s body on the north side of town and someone identified her as a former employee of Mr. Fuller’s orphanage.”

Winnie bit back a gasp. She knew who it was before the man spoke her name.

“Bertha Wilson was strangled and left in an alley behind a hat shop.” Layton crossed his arms and widened his stance. “The Fritz’s housekeeper said a couple had come to see her yesterday. You know who that couple was?”

Winnie wanted to hate the man, but found her common sense won out over her annoyance and dislike. “Yes, it was Nicholas and I. We were investigating the whereabouts of a child from Fuller’s Home. Bertha was very kind to us.” Her voice caught. “We came to Mr. Fuller when we’d discovered she had left the Fritz’s employment.”

“I find it mighty suspicious you two are involved in this death. It ain’t been but a few months since your Pa died by your hand. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t arrest you now.” Layton stepped toward Winnie and Nicholas growled.

She got to her feet on shaky legs, holding up both hands. “Before the two of you do any harm to each other. I want to tell you all a story. One about a young woman who didn’t think she had a choice.”

Nicholas listened as Winnie told her story to Fuller and Layton. The men forgot Nick was even there, which was fine by him. It gave him a chance to study both of them. Someone was lying about the children being sold and he had a hard time believing it was this fragile old man. Certainly Fuller hadn’t strangled Bertha.

Layton watched and listened but he didn’t give away a single emotion in his stone cold expression. The man was a perfect man of the law, reminded him of Brody, his brother-in-law.
Another who had devoted his life to upholding the law only to be felled by a woman and left the Texas Rangers behind.

Nick never understood it until he met Winnie and found himself caught in the same trap his brothers and brother-in-law had succumbed to. Now there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. The Circle Eight seemed a million miles away, the ranching work unimportant. All that mattered was making her happy and for that, they had to get Martha back where she should have been all along.

“I never sanctioned the selling of children.” Mr. Fuller’s chin shook with outrage. “Whoever is behind this also killed Bertha. Someone has made money off the sale of those innocents.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. There’s plenty of slaves in Texas, Mr. Fuller.”

“Not in my house there aren’t.” The older man seemed to have found a well of energy to shout. “I opened that orphanage to help children who had lost their parents. I lost my only child and know the pain of separation between parent and child. If I helped at least one family come together, then my money was well spent. We helped hundreds find new homes and that is a mark on the world I am proud to own. Not child slaves.”

Layton didn’t look convinced. “No one would blame you.”

“Goddamn it, I am not a slaver!” Fuller’s passion convinced Nick the man was telling the truth. “Those children were entrusted to my care, not to my coffers.”

“Then we have a mystery to solve
, and a murder.” Layton’s words made Nick relax his stance, but only a little.

“I need a list of everyone who worked at Fuller’s Home and their whereabouts if you know.” Layton looked at Nick. “I expect you have information to tell me too.”

“The milliner’s shop. That’s where we started looking for Winnie’s daughter in Houston. The lady who makes hats made my gut instincts clench. She’s part of this.” Nick hadn’t voiced it aloud, but it made sense.

“M
iss Gregson.” Winnie frowned.

“Yes, the woman who makes the ugliest hats on the face of the earth. Nobody who sells those hideous concoctions makes money at it. Plus
, she charged you a small fortune and you didn’t blink at the cost.” Nick needed Winnie to see what he suspected all along. “She was testing us to see if we were really there for a hat or for something else. We fell right into that trap and she knew then we were sniffing around about something other than butt-ugly hats.”

The moment she understood, Winnie paled. “She is part of this.”