Truth Be Told (21 page)

Her stepfather raised his eyebrows. “It sounds to me as if someone intended to do a public service by pointing out another side to the story. And isn't that what a good journalist wants? Instead of being angry at whoever left that note, you really ought to thank him.”

Amelia clenched her hands so tightly, her fingernails dug into her palms. “Deny it all you want to—it won't do you any good. I know you had a part in this. What a foul thing to do!”

“Foul? How can you call it that when it only helped to present all the facts? Aren't you the one who is so persistent on bringing the truth to light?”

“Those may have been their honest opinions, but that doesn't mean every bit of dirt has to be slung around in public. Now that those opinions are in print, people will start to wonder if what they said is true. Not everyone, maybe, but enough that it can harm Martin's reputation.” Her voice cracked. “They'll trust that it's true because it was in the
Gazette
.”

Grayson gave her a measuring look. “Hasn't it occurred to you that's why Owen Merrick is so upset about the stories your father ran about Great Western? Once he got hold of an idea, he refused to let it go, no matter what it did to the public's perception of the company. Maybe this will help you see things from a new perspective.”

With a wink and a tip of his hat, he strolled off, leaving Amelia speechless in the middle of the dusty boardwalk. Anger rose until she felt it would choke her. If she'd had a heavy object in her hand, she would have been sorely tempted to fling it straight at him.

And wouldn't it start tongues wagging if she did?

Drawing herself upright, she forced her hands to unclench. No point in giving the citizens of Granite Springs more to talk about. The best thing she could do was to get out of the public eye. Lifting her chin, she turned and stalked back toward the
Gazette
building.

B
en stared at the papers laid neatly across his desk and rubbed his temples. Something was wrong. He had come to the office ahead of schedule that morning, early enough that he'd had a chance to access the company's financial records before anyone else arrived.

What he found created more questions than answers in his mind. There might be a perfectly innocent explanation, but without that, those ledger entries were enough to raise suspicion about Great Western's business practices.

He glanced at the clock and swept the papers back into their folders. He needed to replace them before anyone else arrived. It wouldn't do for anybody to discover he'd been rifling the files. Scooping up the folders, he carried them back to the file cabinet and knelt to return them to one of the lower drawers. He froze when he heard the click of the outer door behind him.

Owen Merrick strode across the floor toward his private office. He stopped short when he spotted Ben crouching in front of the file cabinet. His glance flitted from Ben to the folders in his hand to the open file drawer, and back to Ben
again. One eyebrow arched upward. “Good morning. What brings you in so early?”

Ben's stomach knotted. As much as he wanted to appear at ease, it was hard to look nonchalant when kneeling on the floor before his boss. Trying to control his racing heart, he pushed himself to his feet, hoping he didn't look as guilty as he felt. He searched for words that would offer an innocent explanation for him going through the financial records. Then he shook himself. Why should he try to cover anything up? He needed answers, and this was a perfect opportunity to get the information he sought. He drew a deep breath and prepared to take the bull by the horns.

“I'm a little confused, and I wonder if you could explain some things to me.” Without waiting for a response, he crossed to his desk with the folders still in his hand. Opening the top folder, he laid four sheets of paper on his desk.

Merrick shot a sharp look at him. “What's this?”

“I was going through the files on some of the purchases we've made over the past year, and I discovered something that has me concerned.”

Merrick followed him and glanced down at the papers. His face hardened, and the muscles tightened along his jaw. He looked back at Ben. “What exactly is bothering you?”

“On the Seaver and Gilbreth papers, there's a notation to indicate the number of the bank draft used to pay the seller.” Ben bent over the desk and pointed out the figures in question. “But the Rogers and Smith papers don't show any means of payment at all.”

“Is that all?” Merrick's face smoothed back into its usual placid expression. “I'm sure it's only a minor oversight. Who
handled these transactions? I'll have a word with him and remind him to be more careful about following procedure from now on.”

“They were both handled by Eddie Franklin, but there's more to it than a couple of missing draft numbers.” Ben drew a deep breath and braced himself. “When I tried to find those bank drafts listed in the ledger, there were no entries for them. It would appear the payment was never made. Moreover, it looks to me like the same hand signed both documents with the sellers' names.

“And here—” He opened a second folder and retrieved the papers at the top of the file. “It appears to be the same handwriting again, transferring ownership of those properties to something called Southwest Land Development.” He looked up at his boss, awaiting an answer.

Owen Merrick stiffened. His face became a stony mask. “As I recall, I am paying you to do the work assigned to you. That includes your normal duties as well as this special assignment with Miss Wagner. It does not include snooping through company files that don't concern you.”

Ben squared his shoulders and held his ground. “My assignment was to befriend Miss Wagner and convince her to look at Great Western in a positive light, and possibly print a retraction of what her father had written. In order to do that, I had to find a way to allay her suspicions. I decided the best means of doing that was to go back through her father's articles to find out what sparked his concerns. To get a better understanding of what was going on in the company at that time, I went through records of the purchases the company made, and that led me to these.” He gestured toward the papers on his desk.

“If I'm going to set her mind at ease, I need to be able to explain discrepancies like these, and frankly, I'm at a loss as to how to do that.”

He paused a moment, wondering if he really wanted to add more fuel to an already heated situation.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Drawing a deep breath, he added, “There is also the matter of the McCaffrey reservoir. Why did we give Bart McCaffrey reason to believe we would purchase water from him, only to jerk the rug out from under him after the reservoir was built? That kind of action doesn't paint the company in a good light . . . especially since we bought the land outright after he was forced into foreclosure.”

Merrick shrugged and folded his arms. “That can all be easily accounted for, but I don't have time to go into it right now. I have too many other pressing issues to attend to at the moment.” He fixed Ben with a speculative gaze. “After all the years I've known you and your family, surely you can grant me the benefit of the doubt instead of making mountains out of molehills.”

Ben looked at the man who had been his father's lifelong friend, feeling as though scales were dropping from his eyes and letting him see Owen Merrick clearly for the first time. “Are they molehills, sir? Mr. Wagner was a very persuasive writer. He obviously had serious misgivings about the way the company handled its business, and looking at these”— he gestured again at the papers without taking his gaze from the other man's face—“it's hard for me not to wonder if his allegations didn't contain as least a nugget of truth.”

Merrick's visage darkened. “I hope you're not suggesting I would countenance anything underhanded while I'm in charge
here. The two of us go back a long way. Your father has been like a brother to me, and that's the reason I took you under my wing. Why else would I have given an opportunity like this to someone as young and inexperienced as you are?”

He laid his hand on Ben's shoulder, and his voice lost some of its steel. “Up to now, you've done well and shown a lot of promise. You could have a bright career ahead of you. Don't jeopardize that future by making rash allegations.”

Memories of the past rose up, reminding Ben of all the stories he had heard about his father owing his life to Owen Merrick. He wouldn't have been born if the man standing before him hadn't saved his father from a Rebel bullet.

But people could change, he reminded himself. Every choice a person made had the potential to lead him in a new direction. How well he knew that! And he couldn't dismiss the fact that Merrick worked hand in glove with Thaddeus Grayson, a man Amelia thoroughly distrusted.

Ben steadied himself. “You're right. I don't want to be guilty of misjudging anyone. That's why I'm asking for clarification on these issues.”

“It's her, isn't it? That Miss Wagner.” Merrick let his arm fall to his side, and his face grew cold. “What kind of nonsense has she filled your head with? I entrusted you with the responsibility of making her see reason. I never dreamed you would be so easily swayed by a pretty face. But let me tell you something—underneath that attractive exterior, the girl has a heart as dark as her father's. And she is just as narrow-minded as he was in her perceptions of a company doing its best to bring prosperity to this whole region.”

“To the region? Or to yourself?” Ben watched Merrick's
face change as his words hit home. “That's the way it's beginning to look, anyway. As for Miss Wagner, the idea that there is anything dishonest about her couldn't be further from the truth. If she really is like her father, he must have been quite a man, and it makes me more inclined than ever to take a second look at what he wrote.”

Merrick's eyes flashed. “It sounds to me like you've reached a crossroads, Ben. And only you can decide which path to take. Are you a company man, or not? Where do your loyalties lie?”

Ben lifted his chin. His employer was right—his choices were all too clear. He eyed his boss with a level gaze and made his decision. “With the truth, sir.”

Merrick drew himself up, his dark eyes boring into Ben's. “I don't appreciate what you're implying. If that's the position you intend to take, there may not be a place for you here any longer.”

“I agree. And since that's the case, I quit.” Pivoting on his heel, Ben walked to the coatrack to retrieve his hat and jacket. Slipping his arms into the jacket sleeves and settling the hat atop his head, he strode out the front door and kept on walking.

The dazzling morning sun cast the buildings along First Street into sharp relief. Ben wished his thoughts could be as clear as the crisp lines of the storefronts. What had he just done, walking away from a well-paying job and alienating his father's lifelong friend?

He shook his head as he walked along. Maybe he should go straight to the
Gazette
and let Amelia know what had happened. But he wasn't sure he felt ready to face Amelia with
this news yet, not until he had some idea of what he was going to do next.

What he really needed now was time alone with God. With that thought in mind, he turned his steps toward his boardinghouse. Once he had gone to his room and picked up his Bible, he hiked up a nearby hill to the point where the cedars gave way to pine trees. Settling under a spreading Ponderosa, he opened the book on his lap. Of their own accord, the pages fell open to the story of Jonah.

He smiled at the irony. God couldn't have found a better way of getting his attention. He read through the familiar story, once again seeing all too clearly the parallels between Jonah's life and his own: a call to service that had been ignored, followed by a flight to a far-off land. But while Jonah found passage on a ship headed to Tarshish, Ben had boarded a train bound for Arizona.

Unlike Jonah, he hadn't encountered a life-threatening storm or been swallowed by a big fish en route. He made it safely to his destination, all the while trying to convince himself he could do the Lord's will there as well as anywhere.

And there he had encountered Amelia Wagner, whose passion for truth had turned his life upside down. Now he sat two thousand miles from home, without a job or any prospects for the future. Maybe in his case the storm had come at the end of the trip, not the beginning.

Would the parallels with Jonah's story end there? Ben pondered the question while he searched the open pages again. God had directed that big fish to swim all the way to the shore before depositing Jonah at a point where he could continue his journey and get his life back on track. But in Ben's case,
he saw no similar form of deliverance or direction. Despite the heat of the day, a chill crept up his spine.

Had he run so far that he could never go back?

Owen Merrick listened to the murmur of voices filtering in through his closed office door. He had barely stirred since dropping into his chair after Ben walked out, but his mind had been frantic with activity.

He looked down at the documents on his desk and ground his teeth.
Why now?
Of all the times for this to happen. He had been so sure he'd covered his tracks, but Ben had somehow stumbled upon the very records that had the potential to bring his and Grayson's plans to ruin. Who would have dreamed anyone would have a reason to look at both the Rogers and Smith papers at the same time? The similarities in those signatures would never have been noticed if they hadn't been seen side by side. He should have had Franklin sign one of them, rather than signing both himself.

He squeezed his forehead between his palms, trying to ease the building pressure. It was always the little things that seemed to trip people up. And added to those signatures was the tiny detail of missing draft notations. Why hadn't Franklin had the foresight to jot some numbers down before he filed the documents?

Or perhaps he should have just written out actual drafts and entered their numbers in the ledger, even though they never would have been cashed. Dead men didn't need money, after all.

Maybe all wasn't lost, even if Ben did take this news to that nosy Wagner woman. Even though he suspected something was
amiss, he hadn't figured everything out. All he'd done was ask questions, and it would take more than mere questions to bring down the plans he and Grayson had so carefully constructed.

He beat out a light rhythm on the desktop with his fingertips. Was Ben capable of pursuing matters far enough to cause them actual harm? Perhaps. The boy was clever enough, and his obvious feelings for the comely newspaper editor had gone so far as to shift his allegiance from Great Western to Amelia Wagner. How much could the two of them find out if they joined forces?