Carol Cox (28 page)

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t really broken.” Leaving her to admire her success, Caleb turned back to his papers.

Melanie picked up the offending paper to toss it in the trash bin, then stopped and unfolded it, curious as to what it was and how it had found its way underneath the gears. A smaller piece slipped to the floor, and she bent to pick it up. The larger sheet, water stained and yellowed with age, was printed on both sides—a clipping from a Colorado newspaper, she realized as she scanned the partial masthead. She noted the date—August 1878. What on earth would an old news article be doing inside their music box?

Her eyes fastened on the headline, and she sucked in her breath. Straining to make out the faded words, she scanned
the story that followed and then turned her attention to the smaller note. She was still staring at the papers when the last strains of the waltz died away.

Caleb turned around, the shadow back in his eyes. “I think I’m on to something. I listed all the purchases out again, by date this time. The Professor bought a supply of syrup of ipecac about the time Charley Weber came to town.” His expression darkened even more. “It’s enough to take to the marshal. Like it or not, it looks like we’ve found the killer.”

Melanie shook her head and refolded the sheet she’d been reading. “You need to see this.”

Caleb’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“It’s the paper I found in the music box. Actually, there are two of them. The larger one is from the front page of a newspaper. The other . . . is a note from your uncle.”

“What? Let me see that.” Caleb took the smaller paper from her hand and read aloud:

To whoever finds this note:

The newspaper story enclosed with this may be important. I found it folded up in Charley Weber’s wallet while I was going through his things after he died. I had been feeling uneasy about my good friend’s death. Something didn’t sit right with me, although I couldn’t put my finger on what that might be. I’m still not certain what it all means, but this news story may help explain it. After seeing it, I’ve begun to feel that Charley’s invitation to George and me to go with him to South America was meant to cover up the real reason he came to Cedar Ridge, but I need to check into it further to make sure of my facts before I mention it to anyone else.

George Ross, my partner, knew of my suspicions, but he’s gone now. I may be wrong, but if it turns out I am not, I want to leave some record behind in case anything happens to me before I get it all sorted out.

Alvin Nelson

Caleb looked up, a gentle smile softening his expression. “That sounds just like him. I can almost hear him saying those words. The man was fair to a fault. He never wanted to accuse anyone unjustly. So what did he hide? Is it going to tell us anything?”

“Maybe not everything, but it tells us a lot.” Melanie handed him the yellowed clipping. “Look at this headline: ‘Young Woman Dies at Local Man’s Hand.’ From what I can make out, the article tells about a girl who was killed in Pueblo, Colorado. Between these water stains and being faded with age, it’s impossible to read the whole story, but one thing is clear enough.” She pointed to one of the few legible lines.

Caleb took the paper in his hands and squinted at it, then his eyes flared wide. “Cecilia Weber?”

“There’s more.” Melanie leaned over his shoulder to read the rest of the sentence aloud. “‘Daughter of well-known businessman Lucas Weber.’”

They stared at each other, then Caleb said, “Lucas Weber’s daughter.”

Melanie nodded. “Charley’s niece.”

Caleb held up the paper again. “What happened to her? Does it say?”

Melanie let out a bitter laugh. “I’m sure it does, but the rest of the story is nothing more than a blur, except for a couple of
lines at the end.” Caleb followed her pointing finger. “Right here, where it says the killer escaped, and the posse lost his trail. It looks like the killer got away.”

Caleb stared at her. “Are you saying there’s some connection between this article and Charley’s death?”

“Your uncle apparently did. His note was folded inside the article.”

M
elanie felt her throat constrict. “That would explain why he never played the music box, never had it out on display.”

Caleb raked his fingers through his hair. “It makes sense. He knew it would be easy enough for someone to break in and find these papers if he left them somewhere in the office, so he hid them in the music box for safekeeping.”

Melanie drummed her fingers on the tabletop, trying to piece it all together. “But if Charley’s death had something to do with this article . . .” Her lips parted as a thought struck her. “His niece had been killed. A loving uncle would never forget that. Do you think he found her murderer here in Cedar Ridge?”

“Could be . . . But if that was the case, why didn’t he say anything?”

“He got sick. Maybe he planned to tell the marshal as soon as he recovered.”

Caleb nodded thoughtfully. “That would make sense.
Charley was ill, but he seemed to be getting better. Then he took a sudden turn for the worse and . . . died.” His face turned ashen. “Just the way it happened with Uncle Alvin.”

He went to the back window and looked out.

Melanie struggled to keep her voice steady. “How much would your uncle have told Lucas Weber in his letter? Do you think he would have identified the man he suspected?”

“Not without solid proof.” Caleb’s voice held a note of certainty. “Remember, he didn’t even give a name in that note he left behind. My uncle was a man who would stand unwaveringly for the truth, but he was equally fervent about not wanting to make accusations against anyone without having all the facts. He never said a word about his suspicions to me.”

He paced the small office as he continued. “Let’s assume he found the news story in Charley’s things after he passed away. He may not have paid much attention at first to a story in an old newspaper—why would he, after all? But once he read that article, something must have raised a suspicion in his mind.”

Melanie leaned forward, caught up in his excitement. “Would he have confronted the person he suspected?”

“I don’t believe he would. Not right away, at least. One thing I’ve learned in my time in Cedar Ridge is that you don’t ask men about their past. A lot of them have come out west to make a fresh start. Uncle Alvin would have known that, since he spent most of his life out here. He would have been more likely to extend grace than to point a finger.”

He halted in midstride, and his voice took on a stern note. “But something must have made him feel his suspicions had merit. And once he made the connection between whoever the
article was written about and Charley’s untimely death . . . then it became something more than a man’s actions in the distant past. A murder had happened here in Cedar Ridge, and Charley was his friend. He would have felt compelled to do something about it.”

“And when he did . . .” Melanie felt a chill trickle up her spine. “That must have been when he decided to get in touch with Lucas.”

Caleb hit his fist against his knee. “But why didn’t he say anything to me? I could have helped him.”

Melanie didn’t have to wonder about the answer to that. “Because you’re family. He cared about you and Levi. He wanted to see justice done, but he wanted to protect the two of you, as well. And he may have waited to take that step of writing to Lucas until he was taken ill himself.”

“He must have,” Caleb said. “It’s the only way it all ties together—otherwise Lucas would have responded sooner.”

Melanie nodded. “Lucas Weber wouldn’t have known about your uncle’s death.”

“No, there was no reason for him to have heard about it. So when his letter was returned, that left him with a host of questions.”

“And no way to learn the answers,” Melanie said softly. “Unless he came out here to search for them on his own. And when he got here . . .” They stared at each other for a long moment.

Caleb spoke slowly, as if letting his words piece his thoughts together. “The man who murdered Lucas’s daughter was apparently known in their town. If the man who killed Charley was the same person—”

“Lucas would have recognized him,” Melanie finished
for him. She sucked in her breath, and her eyes flared wide. “Caleb, did you hear what Rance Yeary said?”

“About what?”

“When he was talking to Thomas O’Shea. He said O’Shea moved here from Denver.” She gripped his arm. “Denver, Caleb! O’Shea is from Colorado.”

Caleb’s face grew taut. “That’s right.” He thrust the papers into Melanie’s hands. “It’s time to turn all this over to the marshal. He can take it from here. Hold on to these. The Professor’s book is at my house. I’ll go get it and bring Levi back with me. I won’t feel safe having him out of my sight until this is all over.”

In the distance, Melanie heard the faint rumble of thunder again. She closed her fingers around the papers and gave him a brisk nod. While Caleb hurried off on his errand, she locked the front door and put the
Closed
sign in the window.

No sooner had she finished than Caleb burst inside the back door, his face ashen. “Levi’s gone.”

Melanie stopped in her tracks. “What do you mean, gone?”

“I mean I can’t find him anywhere.” Caleb’s voice was as taut as his features. “I looked all over the house, in the cupboards, even under his cot. He isn’t there.”

M
elanie felt as if a giant hand had squeezed the air out of her lungs. “Where could he have gone?”

Concern shone in Caleb’s eyes. “I don’t know, but I need to find him. What about these papers?”

“Getting them to the marshal can wait,” Melanie said. “Finding Levi is more important. Where shall we put them?”

Caleb looked around the office and picked up the music box. “They’ve been safe in here so far. I can’t think of anyplace better.” Opening the box, he took the papers from Melanie and folded them together, then slipped them back underneath the mechanism. He started for the back door. “I’m not sure where to start looking.”

Melanie followed close on his heels. “He might be playing in the alley.”

“No, I already checked.”

“Then let’s look out front.”

Melanie walked out into the middle of Lincoln Street, squinting her eyes against the dust blown up by the gusting
wind. She scanned the street from one end to the other, but there was no sign of the little boy.

She thought about Levi riding his stick horse up and down the boardwalk the day he had his run-in with the marshal. “Let’s check the livery stable. Maybe he went over there to visit the horses.”

They ducked their heads against the blowing dust and hurried across the street.

Micah Rawlins looked up when they dashed inside the livery. “I don’t usually see you both out of the store at the same time. What’s the occasion?”

“We’re looking for Levi,” Caleb said. “Have you seen him?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Micah set his pitchfork against a post. “He was headed out toward the south end of town . . . maybe an hour or so ago. He had a cane pole over his shoulder. Said he was going fishing.”

“Fishing?” Caleb echoed. “On a day like this?”

Micah shrugged and grinned. “The wind wasn’t whipping like this when I saw him. He told me he was going to try a spot he’d seen over by the ruins on Founders Day.” His grin faded. “I figured it was just kid talk. That’s a long way for a little tyke to be walking on his own. You don’t really think he’d try it, do you?”

“The ruins . . .” Melanie looked up at Caleb with dawning anxiety. “But that’s on the other side of the creek. He wouldn’t try to cross by himself, would he?”

“He might,” Micah said. “The water’s plenty low enough for him to find places where he could get across. He’d get his feet wet, but he could still do it easy enough if he picked the right spot.”

“And if he didn’t . . .” Melanie felt a stirring of panic. “That’s a long way for him to go on foot. Do you think he could make it that far?”

Caleb’s grim expression made her panic rise even more. “I wouldn’t put it past him. When he ran out of the store, he looked upset enough to tackle pretty much anything.”

Melanie filled in the words he’d left unspoken:
And he was upset because of you.

Micah stepped to the doorway and looked up at the sky. “See those black clouds massing up north? Looks like the rain is coming down pretty hard up there. That means the creek will be rising before long. If your boy is on the other side when that happens, he’ll be cut off.”

Caleb grabbed him by the arm. “Can you get a rig ready right away? I need to get out there and find him.”

Micah started pulling a harness from its hook on the wall before Caleb finished speaking. “You bet. And as soon as I get the two of you on your way, I’ll sound the alarm and start rounding up a search party.”

Melanie clung to the wagon seat as it jounced along the trail. “This is my fault. I never should have scolded him so harshly. The music box is costly, but it’s only a box. Levi is worth infinitely more than that.”

“You had no way of knowing he’d take off like this.” Caleb held tight to the reins and kept his eye on the road. “If it helps any, I’m blaming myself just as much. I was supposed to be keeping an eye on the house through the office window. How did I miss seeing him slip away?”

Melanie sat up as tall as she could on the swaying seat and
studied the trail ahead. “Can you see any tracks? How do we even know he came this far?”

“We don’t.” Caleb’s tension was evident in his voice. “But what he told Micah is the only thing we have to go on. I have to follow up on it.”

They reached the creek and splashed across the ford, the horse’s hooves sending up plumes of water. Fear clutched at Melanie’s throat. As Micah said, the water was still shallow enough in that spot, but would Levi have known to cross there?

“Look!” Caleb shouted.

She whirled around. “Where? Do you see him?”

Caleb hauled back on the reins and circled the horse back around to the edge of the creek bank. “Not Levi, but see those prints?”

Melanie followed his pointing finger. Small boot-shaped imprints stood out clearly in the mud at the water’s edge. And they were coming up
out
of the water on that side of the creek. Relief swept over her. So Levi had gotten that far, at least. She stood up in the wagon—balancing against the thrust of the wind, feeling it pulling strands of her hair loose from its pins—and searched the area.

Beside her, Caleb cupped his hands around his mouth. “Levi! Where are you?”

Melanie shook her head. “The wind is blowing too hard. He won’t be able to hear you.”

“Then we’ll just have to cover as much territory as we can. Keep a sharp lookout.” Caleb shook the reins and set the horse into motion, heading across the meadow and toward the cliffs.

Melanie twisted from side to side, trying to see in every
direction at once. Movement to their rear caught her attention, and she tugged at Caleb’s arm. “It’s Micah, and he has someone with him.”

He turned to look where she pointed. Two horses plunged across the creek, approaching them at a rapid clip. Behind them, a line of horses, wagons, and buggies stretched out along the trail from town. True to his word, Micah had brought a search party.

Micah reined his sorrel gelding to a halt beside the wagon. Will pulled up alongside him a second later.

“Micah caught me just as I was ready to ride back to the ranch,” Will said. “Have you found any sign of him?”

Caleb nodded. “We saw some tracks on this side of the creek, so we know he came this far, but I don’t know where to look next. He told Micah he was going fishing, but we didn’t see him anywhere along the bank. He could be down in the trees, or up in one of the storage caves, or anywhere else around here. Where do we start?”

Will gestured toward the line of approaching wagons. “We have enough people to do a thorough search, and more are on their way.” He hailed the new arrivals, waving them over to join the group, and raised his voice to be heard above the wind. “We don’t have much time, men. It’s already raining heavy up north, and the storm is on its way here. We have to find the boy quick—before a flash flood hits. Some of you head upstream, and some of you take the other direction. Better have at least one man on either side of the creek. We know he got this far, but he might have crossed back over at some point.

“The rest of you, fan out. We’ve got a big area to cover. Look in the underbrush, check the caves, anywhere you think
a youngster might decide to go exploring . . . or hole up to get out of the wind. If you find him, fire off a couple of rounds to let the rest of us know.”

As the searchers hurried off, Will turned to Caleb and Melanie and pointed toward the trail. “Looks like more people are arriving. I’ll go meet them and get them organized.” He dug his heels into his horse’s sides and galloped off.

Caleb cast a glance around the open area and appeared to make up his mind. “He told Micah he was going fishing. Maybe that hole he spotted was down near where he and the rancher’s boy were setting off their fireworks on Founders Day. Let’s start there.”

Melanie laid her hand on his arm when he lifted the reins. “I think Will is right, we need to cover as much ground as we can. He and the other children were playing hide-and-seek up around the caves. Why don’t I look at them while you check the creek?”

Caleb held the horse steady while she climbed down from the wagon, then he drove off at a brisk trot.

Melanie sprinted off toward the nearest storage cave. She leaned into the opening and peered around the dim interior. “Levi? Are you here?”

No answer. Pulling her head back, she turned and ran to the second cave, farther along the cliffside. As she bent to look inside, her shawl snagged on the rocky wall, bringing her up short. She snatched it off with an impatient cry and tossed it on the ground. A quick check inside revealed only an empty darkness.

The third cave yielded no more results than the first two. Melanie looked at the next opening twenty yards away, unable to keep her thoughts from returning to the small tracks
by the creek. If Levi had taken refuge in one of the storage caves, he might be lonely and afraid. But if he was down by the rushing waters of the creek, he could be in mortal danger.

Hiking up her skirt, she ran toward the stream. She could see Caleb off to her right, and a ragged line of volunteers moving along the bank. For a moment, she wavered, wondering if she had made a mistake in abandoning the caves to check the creek. She glanced to her left. The line of searchers hadn’t gotten that far. She could move beyond them and check the part of the creek that lay farther downstream.

She pushed her way through the trees, hearing the voices of other searchers calling Levi’s name farther up the bank. The dark, angry clouds building up overhead obscured the sun, making it seem more like dusk than midafternoon there in the shade of the trees and undergrowth.

Melanie ducked under an oak limb and made her way to the edge of the bank, struggling to keep her footing on the slippery mud while she kept a close lookout for any signs that would indicate Levi had come this way . . . or fallen into the creek.

She pressed forward, with the wind whipping her skirts and the bushes catching at her clothes. Rounding a bend in the creek, she spied a pool not far ahead on the other side of a fallen log.
Levi’s fishing hole?
It looked fairly deep.

A pile of debris lay trapped along the underside of the log. Melanie clambered onto the rotting trunk, praying she wouldn’t find Levi caught in the muddy water that swirled against a cut in the bank.

Her foot slipped on the water-soaked log, and she slid back a step. She tried again, bunching her skirts in one hand and using the other to grip a broken branch that protruded from
the side of the trunk. Planting her foot atop the log again, she pushed herself up. She teetered for a moment, then regained her balance and looked for a spot farther along the log that would afford solid footing.

She moved slightly to one side and felt something press into the small of her back. She leaned forward, moving away from the obstruction. Before she could take another step, the pressure on her back increased, and a sudden thrust sent her tumbling.

With a shriek of terror, Melanie plummeted toward the roiling pool below.

Melanie heard the splash as she plunged into the pool. Then all sound was wiped away as the frigid water closed over her head. A moment later she bobbed up again, with her head above the surface. Opening her mouth wide, she sucked in a breath of air and tried to shout for help, but the weight of her waterlogged skirt pulled her down, dragging her under the surface again and cutting off her cry.