To Love and Cherish (29 page)

He'd finished cinching Midnight Flight's saddle when Preston strode inside. “One of the boys over at the stables told me I'd find you here.”

Preston didn't particularly enjoy riding horses, so either he had something important to tell Lawrence or he'd been unable to find anything better to occupy his time this morning.

“I need to take Midnight Flight for his exercise. Care to join me?”

Preston shook his head. “No, but we do need to have a little chat.” He grinned and leaned against the stone wall. “I have an offer you can't refuse. One that involves a bit of mayhem and murder.”

Lawrence chuckled. “Must be one fine card game that you've arranged. Just tell me when and where.”

“No card game this time.” Preston's eyes turned dark, and he pushed away from the wall and drew near. “I'm talking about an actual murder, and I'm enlisting your capable assistance.”

The hairs on Lawrence's neck prickled, and he shook his head. “This is some sort of joke, isn't it? You're not a murderer, Preston. What game are you playing?”

Preston grabbed his arm in a tight hold. “Listen to me! This isn't a joke, and it isn't a game. Some of us who are members of the American Anti-Imperialist League are acutely aware that the president must be stopped before he continues to annex more countries. His visit to Bridal Veil has presented us with the perfect opportunity to stop him—permanently.”

Lawrence gaped at Preston. He knew him to be a man who enjoyed good liquor, gambling, and women—not a man who would have an interest in killing the president. The man had never uttered one word about President McKinley or annexation. “If you're serious, and it appears that you are, please know that I'll be no part of your plan. I have no grudge against the president. Even if I did, I would never consider murder.” His brows drew together into a deep frown. “I can't believe you would consider it, either, Preston. I hope you'll give this idea more consideration.” He now was watching Preston's hands, fearful the man might have a gun or knife concealed beneath his riding jacket.

Preston's lips curved in a cunning smile. “Oh, but you'll do whatever I tell you, my
friend.
Who do you think has the bill of sale for that horse?”

“I do. Fulton Overbrook signed the horse over to me. I had the bill of sale in—”

“In your traveling valise?” Preston licked his lips. “I know, because that's exactly where I found it.”

Lawrence's thoughts raced back in time as he attempted to piece together what was happening. “But how? When?”

“You're really not very bright, Lawrence. All I needed to do was gain your entry to a few card games, and you thought we were best friends. Your trust was so easily acquired.” He snickered. “Once I learned how you'd won Midnight Flight
,
it was easy enough to locate the bill of sale lodged beneath the leather lining of your traveling bag. You and the horse fit into our plans quite well.”

“But I won't—”

“Of course you will. Fulton Overbrook is politically aligned with us. He's already been contacted. He'll do whatever we ask of him. And if going to jail for horse stealing isn't enough to convince you, there's always your sister. I'm sure you wouldn't want any harm coming to her, now would you?”

At the mention of Melinda, Lawrence's fear was replaced by a burst of anger. He grabbed the front of Preston's jacket and pulled him close. “Don't even think about hurting my sister. You're not fit to say her name.” With a shove, he released his hold on Preston.

“My, my, you do have a nasty temper, Lawrence. You need to learn to control your emotions.” Preston shrugged his jacket back into place. “What happens to you
and
your sister is entirely up to you.”

Defeat settled across his shoulders like a heavy weight. “I won't kill anyone.”

Preston's lips curved in a victorious smile as he explained Lawrence's part in the plan. When he finished, Lawrence nodded. He wouldn't be required to commit the murder. At least that's what Preston promised.

Evan gave himself two full days to consider what Melinda had told him. He'd prayed and asked God for guidance but hadn't received any clear answer. He could wait a little longer and pray a little more, but he didn't want to wait too long. Melinda would think he didn't believe her—or that she couldn't trust him to help with her problems. He didn't want that to happen. A wife needed to be able to trust her husband—and he prayed that when this was all over, she'd agree to become his wife.

He slipped his arms into his lightweight jacket, walked to the barn, and saddled one of the riding horses.

“Where ya headed off to this bright and shiny mornin'?” Garrison asked as he tromped into the barn with his usual early morning frown.

“Over to the clubhouse for a talk with Mr. Zimmerman.”

Garrison tucked a piece of straw in the corner of his mouth. “I'm thinkin' you should be stopping for a talk with Mr. Morley. Now that ya finished the golf course, he needs to push them directors to give you that promotion. And a big raise, ta boot.”

Evan nodded. “We'll see. I didn't get the full eighteen holes done, but Mr. Morley said the directors were pleased and planned to take a vote at their meeting. They realize it was the blizzard and not me that caused the delay.”

“Them men and their meetin's. Just another way to make a man wait, if ya ask me.” Garrison looked around the barn. “Where's them lads that's supposed to be mucking out the stalls? Can't depend on anyone but meself.”

Evan pulled out his pocket watch and chuckled. “They're not due down here for another fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, go on with ya. Always checking the time for everything. I look at the sun, and the sun tells me it's time they should be here.”

Evan mounted his horse. “I'll see you later this morning, Garrison. And don't give those lads a hard time. I'm telling you they're not late.”

Garrison mumbled and plodded off toward one of the stalls as Evan rode off. He hadn't made an appointment with Mr. Zimmerman, but he hoped that by going to the clubhouse first thing in the morning, he could speak to him before he began his regular routine. Mr. Zimmerman could be as cantankerous as Garrison when it came to interruptions in his schedule.

“I hope I'm doing the right thing, Lord. If Harland was around, I'd get his advice, but I don't feel like there's anyone else I can look to. I'm not complaining, but I'm not feeling any yes or no from you about whether to talk to Mr. Zimmerman.” Evan had come to rely on these talks with the Lord after Harland left Bridal Veil. In the past, he'd been accustomed to Harland steering him in the right direction, but there wasn't time to write a letter and wait for the older man's advice. Besides, Harland would probably think he'd lost his mind if he wrote a letter about folks planning to assassinate the president.

A refreshing breeze drifted from the river as he approached the clubhouse. If Melinda was in her office, he'd stop and talk to her before going to see Mr. Zimmerman. He hadn't heard anything more from her, but it would be best to make certain before he spoke to the manager. And he wanted to assure himself she'd been staying away from Preston.

He tied his horse and ran up the steps of the side entrance. Everywhere he looked, servants were busy dusting and polishing. No doubt, Mr. Zimmerman and his staff hoped to impress President and Mrs. McKinley. Evan wondered how many more times they would dust and polish those same spots before the president finally arrived.

He nodded to several maids as he passed through the foyer and looked into Melinda's office. “She's gone to meet with the gardener over at the greenhouse.” Evan turned to see Emma walking toward him. “What with so many of the flowers ruined during the blizzard, we're dependin' on what's in the greenhouse for the arrangements during the president's visit. Melinda has lots of ideas to make everything perfect.”

“You're right about Melinda. She does have a way of making life wonderful.” And now that the season was drawing to an end, he planned to prove to her that marrying him would make both of their lives wonderful. Hope welled in Evan's chest as he motioned toward Mr. Zimmerman's door. “Is he in his office?”

Emma bobbed her head. “Last I knew he was in there.” She wrinkled her nose. “I'll give ya fair warning. He's been in a bad mood these past weeks. Not that he's ever what I'd call a happy man, but he's been like a bear with a sore nose since we begun gettin' things ready for the president.”

Evan raked his fingers through his hair and laughed. “That's a bear with a sore tail, Emma.”

She shrugged. “Nose. Tail. Don't matter much. He's been like a bear—and I'm knowin' that for sure.” She chuckled and nudged Evan with her elbow. “And don't you be tellin' him what I said.”

“No need to worry about that, Emma.” He patted her shoulder. “I better get in there before the bear comes out of his cave.”

Emma giggled and waved her feather duster toward Mr. Zimmerman's office. “Go on with ya, now. If Melinda returns, I'll tell her you're in visitin' with the bear.”

As he strode toward the office door, Evan silently prayed for God's guidance. He didn't want to add to Mr. Zimmerman's demanding duties, but the president would be attending several functions in the hotel where the hustle and bustle of the crowd would provide a good diversion for anyone seeking to harm him. Evan hesitated for a moment before he knocked. Should he speak to Mr. Mifflin? After all, President and Mrs. McKinley would be staying with them. Would a possible assassin prefer a crowd or a more peaceful setting such as a private cottage? He'd contemplated the idea but still didn't have any answer.

“Ya goin' to knock on that door or just stand there all day?” Emma tapped him with the end of her feather duster as she walked by.

Evan rapped on the door and waited for what seemed an eternity. He'd raised his hand to knock a second time when Mr. Zimmerman yanked open the door. His brows dipped low and he sighed. “What is it, Evan?”

“If you could spare a few minutes, I need to speak with you about something important.” Mr. Zimmerman continued to block the doorway while his dark eyes bored into Evan like an auger digging into a solid piece of wood. Evan moved closer and lowered his voice. “It is a private matter—one of great consequence.”

“I suppose if you must, but I am very busy.” His dark mustache twitched above his thin lips. “You're sure this can't wait until after the presidential visit?”

“Absolutely certain.” Evan inched forward, thankful when Mr. Zimmerman stepped aside to permit him entry. Without asking permission, he sat down in one of the chairs opposite Mr. Zimmerman's desk.

The supervisor waved to the pile of paper work on his desk. “Do be brief.”

The only way he was going to gain the man's full attention was to begin with a frank statement. Evan inhaled a deep breath. “There are men planning to assassinate the president during his visit to Bridal Veil.”

Mr. Zimmerman's eyes opened wide, and he dropped into his chair. “What? How do you know this? Tell me everything.”

There was a demanding tone to the manager's voice that surprised Evan. “I can't tell you how I've come by the information, but the person is most reliable. I've come to you because I know the president will spend a great deal of time in the clubhouse.”

Mr. Zimmerman waved his hand in a circular motion. “Yes, yes, go on. Tell me all of the particulars.” He scooted forward and leaned across the desk. “I want to hear every detail—from beginning to end. Take your time. Leave nothing out.”

The manager certainly had a quick change of heart regarding his busy schedule. He listened carefully while Evan recounted what Melinda had told him. When Evan finished, Mr. Zimmerman leaned back in his chair.

“Is that everything? You have no names or particulars about when this is to occur?” The manager's steely gaze settled on Evan. “You've left out nothing?”

Evan hesitated. He hadn't mentioned Preston Powers. As much as he disliked the man, he'd decided it was unfair to implicate him simply because he'd walked downstairs after a meeting. Still, he'd do what he could to keep a sharp eye on Preston. With the golf course completed, Evan had much more time and freedom to come and go—and he planned to use the time to his advantage.

“I believe that's everything of consequence, but if I should hear anything further, I'll let you know.”

“Please do.” Mr. Zimmerman gave him a feeble smile. “I think it would be best if you gave me the name of the person who supplied the information. He or she appears to be quite skilled and could possibly gather additional details for us.”

Evan shook his head. “I gave my word that I wouldn't divulge the name. If the person supplies anything more, I'll let you know immediately.” Evan stood and reached across the desk to shake Mr. Zimmerman's hand. “I hope that you will do the same. We want to be certain everyone remains safe during the president's visit.” Although Evan doubted Mr. Zimmerman would appreciate the advice, he couldn't leave without some mention of the Mifflins. “Since President and Mrs. McKinley will be staying at Summerset Cottage with Mr. and Mrs. Mifflin, do you think it would be wise to alert Mr. Mifflin?”

“Perhaps. Then again, the fewer who know, the better, and word does spread quickly. I'll give it some thought.” Mr. Zimmerman extended his hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman.” Evan shook the supervisor's hand. “I do worry there is truth to this rumor.”

“I would remind you there are frequent rumors regarding attacks on this president because he has pursued expansion by annexation of territories, such as the Philippines. He seems to believe it is a proper method to stimulate the country's economy, but many disagree with his beliefs.” The supervisor straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. “While I will do everything in my power to safeguard the president, I'm sure he will have security. We don't want to let a rumor overshadow the grandeur of this event.”

Evan frowned. On the one hand, Mr. Zimmerman wanted details, yet on the other, he was referring to the news as nothing more than a rumor. “But you do believe there is a plot of some sort and that safety precautions must be taken.”

“Of course, of course.” He stepped around the desk and patted Evan's shoulder. “I will take care of everything. You need not worry. I want to make certain nothing unexpected occurs.”

Evan strode toward the door but turned when Mr. Zimmerman called his name. “Please keep this matter to yourself. I will speak to the authorities and to the president's security guard. We wouldn't want word of this leaking to the guests or the newspapers. It would be tragic for Bridal Veil.”

Evan nodded. “I agree. Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman.” He closed the door behind him and walked around the corner to Melinda's office, but she'd not yet returned to her desk.

Over the next few days, Lawrence weighed his options. How had he gotten himself into such a mess? If it weren't for Melinda, he would have escaped the island the day Preston issued his ultimatum. Strange how he'd trusted Preston. Generally he could spot men willing to cut corners and take advantage of every situation. He prided himself on his ability to separate the wheat from the chaff, but Preston had fooled him. If something didn't change soon, he would pay dearly for that mistake. He was willing to suffer the consequences of his actions, but he wouldn't let harm come to Melinda. Not if he could help it. He must keep her safe, and for that, he would need help.

Last night he'd decided to speak with Evan. Telling anyone of Preston's plan would be dangerous, but he knew Evan loved Melinda. Evan was the one person who wouldn't betray him.

Lawrence mounted one of the stable horses and rode to the hunting lodge. Evan had a hunt scheduled for that morning, and Lawrence wanted to arrive before the guests did. As he rode, his thoughts were on two things: how he could protect Melinda and how much he should tell Evan.

The ride didn't take long, and he was pleased when he didn't detect any activity at the lodge. He dismounted, tied his horse, and trotted up the steps. Before he reached the door, Evan opened it. “Lawrence. I wasn't expecting to see you. I was just heading over to the barn. I have a hunt due to start in about forty-five minutes and need to go and select the horses we'll be using.”

“If you could hold off for a few minutes, I need to talk to you someplace where no one will overhear our conversation.”

Evan's eyes clouded with concern before he waved Lawrence inside. “I have time, and there's no one in the lodge.” Taking the lead, Evan stepped toward one of the leather chairs. He motioned Lawrence to the one beside him. “Sit down and tell me what's bothering you.”

After dropping to the chair, Lawrence leaned forward and rested his arms across his thighs. “This is going to sound crazy, but hear me out.” He kept his gaze fastened upon Evan while he told him there was a plot to assassinate the president and that Preston Powers was involved.