Truth Be Told (13 page)

Amelia forgot her butterflies when her heart picked up speed and started racing like a runaway horse. “It's good to see you, too. Thank you again for last night. I enjoyed the time we spent together, and I so appreciated your help with Homer.”

“How is he today?”

“Much better. He's working, as am I.” She slanted a teasing look up at him. “What about you?”

To her surprise, a flush tinged his cheeks. “I just needed to step out for a few minutes to run an errand. Seeing you was an unexpected bonus.”

“It seems like everyone from your company is out and about today. I saw your employer just a few minutes ago.” The reminder of her conversation with Owen Merrick brought her back down to earth with a thud. So much for going to the source to get both sides of a story.

Her eyes widened, remembering another of her father's sayings—
“If
you can't access the source itself, get as close
to the source as you can.”

She looked up at Ben, wondering how he would feel about the idea that had just sprung into her mind. “Do you have to get right back to your office, or could you spare a few minutes to talk with me?”

The light in his eyes warmed her through and through. “I can't think of anything I'd like more. Do you want to sit on one of the benches here in front of the general store?”

“No. What about . . .” Amelia's mind whirled, trying to come up with the best place to broach her improvised plan to Ben. The newspaper office? No, Homer would be there. Last night's episode ought to have softened his attitude toward Ben, but if he overheard them talking about Great Western, no telling what his reaction might be.

She scanned the buildings along the street. The café? Too many listening ears. She needed someplace that offered more privacy.

“Maybe we could walk up to the grove of trees near the spring. It's quiet there. I hope you don't think that's too forward of me,” she added when she saw his look of surprise.

“Not at all. It would be my pleasure to escort you there.” He held out his arm, and they followed the road past the north end of town.

When they reached the bubbling pool of water that gave Granite Springs its name, Amelia stopped beneath a walnut tree and leaned back against the rough trunk. “I'd like to ask you to do something for me.”

Ben rested one arm on a low-growing limb and bent his head toward her. “I'll be glad to help in any way I can.”

The look he gave her sent a shiver up her spine, and she had to glance away in order to concentrate on what to say next. “As you know, my father wrote some articles that portrayed Great Western in a less than flattering light.”

A flicker of surprise shone in his eyes, and he drew himself up slightly. “Yes.”

“And you're probably aware that Owen Merrick wanted him to retract what he'd written.”

Ben straightened and tucked his thumb in one pocket. “You have to understand. This company relies on investors for its operating capital. Stories that stir up unfounded fears among the public—like the ones your father wrote—could have a great impact on their decisions about future investments with us. Or even create a sense of unease that would cause them to withdraw money they've already invested.”

Amelia leaned forward, willing him to understand. “But you didn't know my father. The motto he chose for the
Gazette
is taken straight from the Bible: ‘Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.' Those weren't just idle words to my father. They spoke of who he was and what he lived for.”

She waited a moment to let her words sink in before con
tinuing. “He never would have printed those stories had he not believed in their accuracy one hundred percent.”

Ben's features softened. “I'm not calling his honesty into question. I have no doubt your father was a fine man.” His voice took on a gentle tone. “But even a good man can be mistaken.”

The statement hit Amelia like a blow. Wasn't that exactly what she'd been thinking earlier? But she wasn't ready to admit that to Ben.

She folded her arms. “Let's assume for a moment you're right. Not that I'm saying you are, but it seems to me we're both interested in making the truth known. In order to do that, we need more information. Your employer holds one point of view; my father held another. They can't both be right. I'd like you to help me learn the truth—whatever it may be—so we can set the record straight.”

Ben drew his head back slightly. “What, exactly, are you asking me to do?”

She spread her hands wide, then let them fall to her sides. “I'm not sure what I'm asking. I know my father was concerned about what Great Western's long-term plans might be. They're obviously buying up a lot of land, but to what purpose? And how are they acquiring it? You know your boss and the other people in the company. You know how business is transacted there.”

Ben nodded, but his features took on a wary expression.

She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I told you I saw your boss earlier, but I didn't tell you I'd spoken to him. When I asked him that question, he cut me off and refused to discuss it. But when a company's true plans aren't made known, it gives rise to speculation, which may or may not line
up with facts. An investment company is in business to make a profit—but at what cost to others? Great Western already plans to flush gold out of the rock with high-pressure nozzles. What's the next step—clear-cutting tracts of timber from the hillsides? Things like that will affect this area for decades to come. Surely you can understand why people around here are concerned.”

Ben raked his fingers through his hair. “I can't tell you anything specific about what the future holds. I'm responsible for researching the ownership of certain properties the company is interested in, and then contacting those owners to try to negotiate a purchase. I'm told which properties to look into, but I haven't been with Great Western long enough to be privy to all their plans.”

“But don't you want to know what they are? Think about it—a company with enough backing can buy up land, squeeze every penny of profit out of it, and then go on its way with money in its pockets. But the people who have built their lives here would be left with nothing, surrounded by devastation. You wouldn't want to be a part of something like that, would you?”

“Of course not,” he sputtered.

“Then help me. Please. Your boss wouldn't confide in me, but there isn't any reason he shouldn't tell you what his intentions are. And if he won't . . . maybe you could keep your eyes and ears open, see what you can learn.”

Ben's eyebrows soared toward his hairline. “You're asking me to spy?”

“No, of course not!” Her conscience pricked her. “Not exactly, anyway.” She lifted her chin and tried to look more
confident than she felt. “The people of Granite Springs deserve to know how they'll be affected by whatever Great Western plans to do.”

“It certainly sounds like spying to me. For someone who's interested in the truth, that strikes me as rather underhanded.”

He was going to say no. She could see his answer written in the taut lines of his body and the stern expression on his face.

She scrabbled in her mind for something more to say. “Gaining information isn't wrong in itself. Think about what Joshua did in the Bible.”

The look on Ben's face would have been comical if the situation hadn't been so serious. “Excuse me?”

“Don't you remember? He sent two men—the ones Rahab hid in her house—to find out about the defenses of Jericho.”

He nodded, still looking confused. “When God was planning to destroy the city, they—” He broke off, and his eyes narrowed. “Is that what you're planning to do, come up with some way to tear down Great Western?”

Amelia laid her hand on his arm, afraid she had pushed him too far. “I'm not trying to harm the company. This is not a vendetta, I'm merely trying to find out the truth.” She squeezed her eyes shut, then looked up into his face. “And if it turns out that my father was mistaken and Great Western has only beneficial things planned for their work in this area, I will be glad to print a retraction.”

Do I really mean that?
Taken off guard by her own statement, she pondered the question while she waited for Ben's response. Could she admit publicly that her father had been wrong?

Taking in a deep breath, she let it out again on a shuddering sigh. She could. It would kill her to do it, but it would be the
right thing—the same thing her father would do if he were still alive.

Before Ben could answer, footsteps crunched along the pathway through the grove of trees. Amelia spun around to see Martin Gilbreth approaching.

His weather-beaten face lit up when he saw Ben. “There you are. Emmett said he saw you headed up this way. I wanted to let you know I've decided to sell that property your company's interested in. I didn't mean to interrupt you, but I thought we probably ought to take care of it right now . . . before I change my mind,” he added with a grin.

Ben stepped toward Martin, removing his arm from Amelia's grasp. “You aren't interrupting. We were almost finished here.” Tipping his hat to Amelia, he turned away and the two men started back down the street.

“Ben!” she called. “That favor I asked of you . . . ?”

He halted and turned back to face her. The compassion in his eyes sparked hope in her heart, but his words dashed it to pieces. “I'm sorry. I'm not going to be able to help you. Not like that.”

B
en opened the door of the Great Western building and ushered Martin inside. In the far corner of the spacious room, Owen Merrick leaned over Josh Brady's desk. The two looked up when Ben and Martin entered.

A smile of welcome lit Merrick's face. He crossed the room with rapid strides and enveloped Martin's fingers in a hearty handshake. “Mr. Gilbreth! How nice of you to stop by. Have you decided to accept our offer?”

Martin gave a quick nod and tucked his thumbs in his belt. “I caught up with Ben just now and asked him to draw up the papers, since he's the one I originally talked to about it.”

Merrick clapped him on the shoulder. “I'll let the two of you get on with it, then.”

Ben led Martin back to his desk and seated him in a wooden visitor's chair. He slid open his desk drawer and pulled out the necessary forms. “I'm delighted you came to this decision, but I must say I'm surprised. You seemed totally against it the last time we spoke. What changed your mind?”

Martin shrugged and settled back in the chair. “The more I thought about it, it just didn't make sense to hold on to that
piece. I've already harvested the marketable lumber, and it's so far from the sawmill, there isn't much else I could do with it. Might as well make a little profit on it. I could use that capital for the sawmill right now.”

Ben reviewed his file on the Gilbreth property and made quick work of filling in the forms on the contract. “If you'll read through this and sign here,” he pointed to a line at the bottom of the page, “I'll go get the bank draft from Mr. Merrick.”

After Martin perused the papers and signed his name, Ben carried the contract to Merrick's office. The company's vice president scanned the paperwork, then filled out the bank draft for the amount agreed upon and signed his name with a flourish. Handing it to Ben, he said, “I need to speak with you as soon as Gilbreth has gone.”

“Of course.” He carried the draft back to his desk and handed it over to Martin, who looked at it with a lack of enthusiasm Ben found surprising.

“Is everything all right?”

The older man nodded as he folded the paper and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “I still think it's worth more than this, but we've talked about that before. I need the capital to move forward with an expansion at the sawmill, so I'll take what I can get and be satisfied.” He pushed himself out of the chair and held out his hand.

Ben returned the handshake. “I'll make sure all the papers are filed with the county recorder in Prescott. It's been a pleasure doing business with you.”

After showing Martin to the door, he started back to his desk, then remembered his conversation with his boss and
changed course to Merrick's office. He tapped lightly on the frame of the open door. “You wanted to see me?”

“Ah, yes. Come in, my boy. And close the door behind you.” When the door latch clicked into place, he tented his fingers and peered over them at Ben with a pensive expression. “Have a seat, son. I'm happy you closed the deal with Martin Gilbreth, but how are things progressing with Miss Wagner? I don't want to see you getting distracted from the task I entrusted to you.”

Ben shifted on his chair, feeling like an errant schoolboy under Merrick's penetrating gaze. “I was talking with Miss Wagner when Martin walked up. Since I was the one who initiated the negotiations for his property, it was reasonable for him to expect me to complete it for him.”

“I see.” Merrick pondered a moment, then broke into a broad smile. “You're doing a fine job, Ben. It's a good sign that Gilbreth sought you out instead of just walking in on his own. It shows people around here are getting to know you and trust you. And it's nice to know that even after what has been printed in the
Gazette
, people still have faith in Great Western.” His tension seemed to slip away, and he leaned back in his chair. “Your father would be proud of you.”

Ben's chest expanded at the compliment. “Thank you, sir.”

“Speaking of Miss Wagner, remember that I want to stay up to date on what's happening. Do you have anything to report?”

“Not really.”
Except that she just
asked me to spy on Great Western.
“I've been spending time with her, getting to know her as you directed.”

“Good, good.” Merrick's gaze sharpened. “What about those articles her father wrote?”

Ben fought the urge to squirm like a bug on the point of a
pin. Trying to fulfill his promise to keep tabs on a woman he was beginning to care for in a decidedly non-business sense made him feel as if he were walking a tightrope, where any misstep might mean disaster. How had he gotten himself into such a tangle? He chose his words with care. “I haven't asked her to print a retraction yet. I thought it best to develop a relationship first. And I know she's curious as to what our long-range plans are.” He held his breath, waiting for an answer.

A glint of anger flitted across Merrick's face. Then his features smoothed out so quickly, Ben wondered if he had imagined it.

Merrick pursed his lips. “I'm sure you're taking the right tack. Carry on.”

Ben returned to his desk, feeling rebuffed by the abrupt dismissal. He filled out the rest of the paperwork on the Gilbreth sale and set it atop the stack of documents that needed to be taken to the county recorder's office in Prescott.

With that chore finished, he leaned back in his chair and stared around at the quiet activity in the office. He watched Josh Brady and Eddie Franklin go about their business, finding it impossible to believe there was anything underhanded about Great Western's activities.

When he rejected Amelia's request to do some spying on her behalf, he felt he'd taken the high road. But how different was that from agreeing to strike up a friendship with Amelia for the purpose of swaying her opinion in favor of Great Western? He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

How did he get himself in this crazy situation? More im
portant, what kind of man was he to be so easily talked into doing such a thing?

He shook his head, remembering Amelia's reference to Joshua. He felt about as far from a Bible hero as anyone could get. If someone asked him to characterize himself as a biblical character, he had to admit he bore far more resemblance to Jonah.

His similarity to the rebellious prophet was something he tried to avoid thinking of, but he couldn't escape the parallels that existed in their lives. Hadn't he heard God's voice and run in the opposite direction, just as Jonah had? When the opportunity arose to join Great Western, he had wasted no time in traveling to the other end of the country, trying to evade the call God placed on his life.

Ben straightened in his chair, willing himself to stop brooding. Surely the God who formed the heavens and the earth was big enough to use him anywhere, even in this tiny Arizona community.

And God
was
using him. He could see the proof of that every day. Take the transaction he had just completed. That sale benefited not only his employer, but Martin Gilbreth, as well. With the money gained from the sale of his land, Martin would be able to implement his plans to build his business, which in turn would provide more jobs and help the entire community.

He squared the stack of papers on his desk, feeling the satisfaction of a job well done. And he was just one of the employees here. How many others had Great Western already helped during their brief time in Granite Springs?

He walked to the front window, taking in the bustle of activity along First Street. The town was growing, and Great
Western was a part of that. What could have possessed Andrew Wagner to try to undermine the company?

The question brought his conversation with Amelia back to mind. He blew out a huff of air, remembering what she had asked of him. He cocked his head to one side as a thought struck him. What if he did the requested digging and turned up tangible proof that her father's concerns had been groundless?

That would mean Amelia could lay her doubts to rest and print the promised retraction, which would make Owen Merrick happy. Ben would be released from his obligation to try to sway Amelia's opinion of the company and would be free to pursue a friendship with her, without feeling like he was caught in the middle.

He smacked his fist into his palm, elated at finding such a simple solution. If he could pull that off, it would solve all his problems.

Grinning, he walked back to his desk and retrieved his jacket. It was time to get back to work. Mr. Merrick had been very clear about expecting him to spend more time with Amelia.

And there was nothing he wanted to do more.