Words Spoken True (30 page)

“Surely you don’t plan to print any of these outrageous allegations.” Jimson’s alarm was becoming even more visible by the second as he looked at Blake. “You are aware that libel is a serious crime.”

“As is arson.” Blake’s voice sounded harsh after his long silence.

Jimson’s eyes narrowed on Blake. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“Not at all,” Adriane said quickly, sensing Blake’s anger in spite of his impassive expression. “We only plan to print the truth in the
Tribune-Herald
, whatever that truth may be.”

“My dear girl, truth is often illusive.” A new wariness shielded the look in Jimson’s eyes. “In fact, truth is something most editors learn to bend this way and that to suit their particular causes. Your own father was very adept at finding the proper truths to publish.”

“My father believed in what he printed,” Adriane said staunchly and then wondered who she was trying the most to convince. Coleman Jimson or herself.

Jimson smiled a bit as if he sensed her uncertainty. “Of course, but he was wise enough to consider carefully what he believed as you and Mr. Garrett here will also need to do.”

“As we will.” Blake spoke quietly but forcefully. “You can rest assured of that.”

“It is comforting to know that you both have such respect for the truth, but truth will not pay the bills.” Jimson looked down at the paper on the hall table.

“Regrettably so,” Adriane agreed, trying to take control of the situation again as she changed tacks quickly. “We will turn over possession of the building to you by the end of the month. Until then we will continue to publish the
Tribune-Herald
, but we will concentrate on a healing of the city. An effort I’m sure the state’s newly elected officials will support fully.”

Jimson looked around. “The building is not in very good shape. I doubt it has the value you imagine.”

“And what value would you put on the
Tribune
?” Adriane kept her voice cool. She had expected this.

“The readership numbers have been falling in recent months, I understand. And without Wade, I doubt the paper has much chance of survival in the crowded newspaper market here in Louisville.” Jimson looked from Adriane to Blake. “However, the
Tribune-Herald
together is a much more marketable commodity.”

“You can’t take the
Herald
,” Adriane said. “It is not mine.”

“Neither is the
Tribune
, as a matter of fact,” Jimson said. “When you married, all your property as well as your debts became your husband’s.”

Adriane’s heart sank as she realized what he said was true. She had not only lost the
Tribune
but had caused Blake to lose the
Herald
as well. She lowered her eyes away from Jimson’s. She had no more fight.

Blake’s hand tightened slightly on her arm as he spoke. “As Adriane has told you, we will vacate your building and if necessary, surrender the equipment. As to the
Herald
, we will have to wait for the reading of Mr. Chesnut’s will. In the meantime it’s imperative that we continue publishing or else lose our readers. Without readers, the papers, either of them, have little value. I’m sure everyone will take note of your patient forbearance and think highly of you for allowing their newspaper to continue uninterrupted.”

Jimson studied Blake a moment before he said, “And there will be no vicious attacks on my character?”

“You have won the election, though perhaps not as fairly as one might wish.” When Jimson started to protest, Blake held up his hand to silence him. “Let me finish. Be that as it may, there would be little need in attacking your character now. As not only an editor but a citizen of this town and state, I would hope that I have been wrong and you will represent our district well. If not, then my duty as an editor would be to point out your shortcomings as our senator.”

“And none of that could happen before the end of the month as I won’t have taken office by then,” Jimson said thoughtfully. “I think this is a deal we can strike. As long as you realize the debt will not be forgiven no matter what you print or don’t print.”

“A great many things will not be forgiven,” Blake said.

Jimson’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Blake for a long moment before he said, “I think we understand one another.”

“There is one more condition,” Blake added before Jimson could turn away.

Jimson looked at him suspiciously. “What’s that?”

“You keep your son away from my wife if you want him to keep breathing.”

Jimson looked once more at Adriane with sincere sorrow in his eyes. When he spoke it was to Adriane, not Blake. “Stanley is my only son, and his children will carry on the Jimson name. You can’t fault a man for wanting those children to be strong, my dear. I had hoped your strengths would counter Stanley’s weaknesses.”

“So you bought me for him,” Adriane said.

“No, my dear,” he said sadly. “I only tried to buy you, but he spoiled the deal as I feared he would all along.”

“And our deal?” Blake said coldly.

Jimson looked back at Blake. “Stanley will not trouble you or Adriane again. I’ll see to it.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and left. Adriane’s knees felt weak and she leaned against Blake, thankful for the strong feel of his body.

“It’s all right, Adriane,” he said softly. “He’ll keep his part of the deal. Stanley Jimson won’t bother you again.”

With Blake’s arms strong around her, she could almost believe it in spite of the worry deep inside her that none of them knew what Stanley might do.

A
fter Jimson left, Blake called a meeting of the hands in the pressroom. Around them, stacks of the
Tribune-Herald
lay folded and ready for delivery on the morrow. It was early, not much after five in the afternoon, but they had gone ahead and printed the paper before Jimson came in case the man refused to listen to reason and insisted on closing down the press. Why one more issue mattered that much, Blake didn’t really know. He just knew it did.

A newspaperman got out his issue no matter what. His father had taught him that, had believed it without question. The news could not be stopped, and so after his father died, Blake had done everything he could to keep their paper going.

It hadn’t mattered so much what he printed, but he’d worked night and day to keep a paper out on the streets the same as always. It hadn’t changed anything. His father was still dead and the paper he’d published dead with him. All Blake had been able to do was delay facing that truth for a few weeks.

That was all they’d done today with Coleman Jimson. The debt was too large, twice as much as anything Blake might have imagined, and even if by some chance, Chesnut had left Blake some share of the
Herald
in his will, there wasn’t much left of the
Herald
of any value. The building and equipment were gone. While the name remained, a newspaper was only as good as its last issue in the eyes of most readers.

It was a losing battle, but one they would fight to the bitter end. With that in mind, he wanted to be fair to the hands. He had no money to pay them today and could give them little guarantee of pay tomorrow or even of a job by the end of the month.

Blake surveyed the motley crew clustered about him in the pressroom. Beck and Duff were all who remained of Darcy’s hands, and besides Joe, only three of his own hands had shown up the last couple of days. Calvin, a young kid named Seth, and Herb, a man he’d hired only last week.

Blake frowned at Herb slouched against the wall, his hands deep in his pockets, and wondered why he was still there. The man hadn’t received the first sniff of pay and had hardly had time to develop any feelings of loyalty to Blake or the
Herald
.

Herb looked up, caught Blake’s eyes on him, and slid his own eyes quickly back to the floor. Something about the man bothered Blake, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. Even so, it wasn’t a time to send men packing without cause. The man did his job. He’d even been the one to pull Joe out of the burning
Herald
building on Monday. For that, if nothing else, he owed the man a job as long as he wanted it.

Blake explained the situation to the men quickly and succinctly. He finished up by saying, “We’re going to do our best to keep the
Tribune-Herald
up and running, but if you leave, there won’t be any hard feelings.”

“I ain’t going nowhere, boss,” Joe said. “You know that.”

Blake allowed himself the faintest ghost of a smile. He had known that. Had counted on it, in fact. And Beck would be with Adriane till he died. He was the same as family, and Duff near to it. If it came to it, that would be enough to get out the paper, but the meeting had been for the other three.

Herb glanced up at Adriane and quickly away as he said, “I always heard tell a woman in the pressroom was bad luck.”

Blake glanced at Adriane beside him, but she didn’t act as if she’d even heard the man. Ever since they’d struck the deal with Coleman Jimson, she’d hardly said three words to anybody as she helped fold and get the papers ready. Blake looked back at Herb and said, “Mrs. Garrett has been helping her father put out the
Tribune
for years.”

“So I’ve heard.” Herb didn’t look at Adriane again. “Could be they’ve had more than their share of bad luck along the way. More than their share lately at any rate.”

Across the room, Beck muttered something that Blake couldn’t make out. Maybe it wasn’t words at all, but merely a growl, as it was plain the old man was only a word or two away from exploding. Surprisingly enough, Adriane made no response at all. She seemed hardly aware of Herb’s words.

Blake kept his own voice calm. “If you don’t like the working conditions, Herb, you’re free to walk out the door right now.”

The man slouched lower against the wall. “I didn’t say I was wanting to quit. I was just worried some about bad luck.”

“The
Tribune-Herald
is going to make its own luck the next few weeks. We’re going to put out a paper that will set Louisville on its ear.”

“We could do it too, boss,” Joe said. “All we got to do is figure out who this slasher fellow is, and what with this witness coming forward, maybe things is finally beginning to break.”

Beside him, Blake felt Adriane come to attention as she finally showed some sign of hearing what was being said. He glanced at her and regretted for the hundredth time the story they’d run in the paper the day before.

“Some folks out on the street are saying you just made that up, Mr. Garrett,” the kid named Seth said. His face flushed a little as he went on. “I told them you wouldn’t print something that wasn’t true.”

Before Blake could come up with an answer for Seth that wouldn’t completely spoil the boy’s belief in the truth of the printed word, Herb spoke up. “That ain’t the worst rumor going around.” Herb’s gaze hit on Blake for a second before sliding down to the floor. “I heard a rumor the other day that you were the killer yourself, Mr. Garrett. That nothing like this happened before you came to town.”

“That rumor’s so old it’s growing mold,” Calvin said.

“Girls is still getting killed,” Herb said.

Duff was across the room and had the much bigger man pinned against the wall before anybody else could move. “Mr. Garrett didn’t kill me sister, but he’s seeing to it that whoever did has some reason to be worried.”

“Easy, boy.” Herb’s eyes flew full open for a moment, but he didn’t try to push the boy away. “I wasn’t aiming to upset you about your sister and all. I was just giving wind to some of the rumors I’d heard. There’s another going around that it’s one of the watch and that’s why nobody can ever catch him. Then I even heard it might be some society dandy.”

“If you’d seen what he done to her, you wouldn’t be talking about it like it’s no more than some kind of parlor guessing game.” Duff’s face twisted as he tried to keep back his tears.

Blake started across the room, but Adriane moved in front of him. With only a bare glance at Herb, she took hold of Duff’s hands and pulled him away from the man. Then she put her arm around the boy and ushered him out of the pressroom.

When the door shut behind them, Herb muttered, “I wasn’t meaning to trouble the boy. I feel bad for him. His sister too.” Without looking at any of the rest of them, he pushed himself away from the wall and shuffled out the front door.

“And good riddance,” Beck said.

“I promised no hard feelings,” Blake said.

“I make my own promises.” Beck sent Blake a hard look before he stood up and went into his room off the pressroom and shut the door firmly.

Joe, Seth, and Calvin filed out without a word. From the way Calvin kept avoiding Blake’s eyes, Blake didn’t think he’d see much more of him. Blake blew out his breath, glad the meeting was over, and pushed away from the printer’s table he’d been leaning against. He’d have to tell Joe to scrounge through the taverns to find some hands.

Maybe he should do it himself. It could be he might find more than new hands. Maybe the piece in the paper had shaken loose a few worries, and new stories would be going around about the murders. Blake hadn’t heard the one about the policeman. Of course since the riots, nobody had much good to say about the watch. The rumor about the society gent was old. Blake had heard it even before he’d heard his own name in the rumor mill.

He remembered what his father used to say about rumors. “You don’t print rumors, Son. Not if you’re an honest editor who cares about the reputation of your paper, but you do listen to them, and sometimes if you look deep enough into what’s being bandied about and who’s doing the bandying, you can catch a glimmer of the truth. That’s what you print.”

He needed more than a glimmer of truth to print. He needed a lot of truths. His eyes went to the folded papers ready for delivery the next morning. A dull issue. Readers expected more than that these days, and somehow he’d find a way to give it to them in these last issues of the
Tribune-Herald
if that’s what they turned out to be.

But first he had to find out what was bothering Adriane. As he got up to go in search of her, he realized that for the first time in years something was more important than the headlines to him. An unsettling feeling, but one he welcomed.

As he went out to the kitchen, he worried Adriane might be regretting giving herself to him so completely that morning. The thought made his insides twist. Touching her and loving her had been so good he’d been sure nothing could ever spoil the love between them. Yet now only a few hours later she seemed to be pulling away from him. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let it happen.

He found her and Duff sitting on the back stoop, petting one of the ugliest dogs he’d ever seen. The dog looked up warily at Blake and started to slink away, but Adriane caught him around the neck.

“Don’t worry, Mr. O’Mallory. He may look cross, but we won’t let him chase you away,” she said with a laugh.

A weight lifted off Blake’s heart at the sound of her laugh. Whatever was bothering her had nothing to do with their night together, and suddenly the thought of the night ahead made him feel shaky inside. He didn’t want to wait for the night. He wanted to pull her up next to him now, touch her hair with his lips, and carry her up the stairs to her bed. Their bed.

Before he could actually grab her, he pulled his runaway emotions to a halt by reminding himself that even if it had nothing to do with him, something was still disturbing Adriane. So he turned his eyes back to the dog. “What are you two doing with a mangy creature like that?”

“He’s an ugly thing for certain, ain’t he, boss?” Duff glanced up at Blake and then ran his hand across the dog’s head gently. “I ain’t never had a dog of me own. Never enough food, you know.”

“Well, it looks as if you might be able to share this one with Miss Adriane.” Blake sat down beside Adriane on what was left of the stoop. “What was it you called him?”

“Mr. O’Mallory,” Adriane said. “And I can’t say that he’d agree to be anyone’s dog. He’s an independent character.”

“He looks a smart enough dog to know when he’s got it made to me,” Blake said. “I think he’ll be sticking around awhile.”

Adriane reached over and took Blake’s hand. Duff noticed and grinned a little. “Maybe I’d best be seeing if old Beck has anything for me to do before I go home.”

“Tell me before you leave,” Blake said as the boy stood up. He didn’t aim to let the boy walk home alone.

After the door shut behind Duff, Blake and Adriane sat silently as the last rays of sunshine disappeared behind the buildings and the shadows deepened. The old dog let out a contented breath and settled himself at Adriane’s feet. Blake would have felt as happy as the old dog if he hadn’t known Adriane wasn’t feeling the same peace. Of course it could be simply grief at the loss of her father, but he sensed there was more than that sadness troubling her.

She glanced at him and away as she said, “I suppose I should see if we have anything to eat.”

He held her hand tighter. “I’m not hungry.” He reached up and turned her face gently toward him until he could look into her eyes. “Is something bothering you, Adriane? Something besides losing your father?”

“I do miss him. I keep expecting him to come in yelling about some new story.” She reached up and wiped away a tear.

“But that’s not all, is it? It’s this with Jimson, isn’t it? But he’ll stand by his bargain. We have till the end of the month.”

“I know.” Adriane shifted her eyes away from his to stare over his shoulder toward the side of the building across the way.

He waited a moment for her to say more, but when she didn’t, he said, “It’s too late to shut me out, Adriane.”

Her eyes came slowly back to his. “I’m sorry, Blake. I would have never married you if I’d thought about what it might cost you. I had no idea Father was so deeply in debt.”