Chapter 19

nineteen

"Bitterness and despair rolled away and left me happy again."

~Earl Douglass

W EDNESDAY , A UGUST 16, 1916 · C ARNEGIE I NSTITUTE

Was it normal for giddiness to last this long? He didn't know and he didn't care. The article had accomplished everything he intended it to do.

People were looking at him differently now. Asking his opinion. Seeking him out for direction with various displays at the museum. It was only a matter of time before Mr. Carnegie visited him and they could sit down and renegotiate his contract. Even the great steel magnate should be able to see he'd be a fool to let him go now. Not without destroying the reputation of his beloved museum.

He picked up the newspaper outside his office and tucked it under his arm. With a few clicks, he unlocked the massive wooden door and strolled to his desk. In short order, the rough draft of his new paper on the profitability and sustainability of natural history museums and their contributions to the well-being of American culture was spread on his desk.

If he was to truly make his mark in paleontology, he had to show that their science had to be a money-making enterprise. Now that they knew the plains and mountains out West were rife with fossils, it was time to start capitalizing on their vast monetary value.

Pulling up his chair, he frowned. Where was his fountain pen? Shuffling papers and peeking under folders, he searched and searched. Picking up the newspaper, he spotted it beneath...

He froze.

What did that headline say?

Dread prickled along his skin. With slow movements, he unfolded the paper and read.

Carnegie Denounces Fraud Curator—"Earl Douglass Is the Real Genius"

Blood roared in his ears. What on earth was this? He scanned the article, all feeling draining from his body.

No. It couldn't be possible. How could Andrew Carnegie do this to him of all people? After he'd sacrificed his life to make sure that stupid Hall of Dinosaurs was the ultimate shrine to the massive beasts. Slaving away to make sure the museum was a success.

A sharp rap at his door made him jump. But he didn't have time to give permission to enter before two police officers pushed their way into his office, their faces grim.

"Mr. Nelson?"

"What do you want? I didn't do anything wrong!"

One police officer moved toward his desk. "We have signed witness statements from two scientists and a journalist that say you bribed them to smear the reputation of one Miss Eliza Mills. And to print a profile on you that is factually untrue."

He pushed his chair back. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be! "You have no proof! You've got nothing on me! I was acting on the orders of Mr. Carnegie himself!"

The other policeman let out a dry chuckle and slipped around the left-hand side of his desk. "Sure you were. No use in fighting us. We have plenty of proof. You are under arrest for unlawful bribery and criminal menacing." The officer leaned closer, his low voice rumbling in Nelson's ear. "They're also investigating you in the fraud and impersonation of a Dr. Masterson."

No! He wrested one arm from the officer's grip. "I have proof. Proof! Look, look..." He fumbled through the papers on his desk. Where were those notes? Aha! He scooped up the small slips of paper and shoved them at the policeman. "Here! Direct orders from Mr. Carnegie. I acted in his stead."

The officer took the papers, an eyebrow raised high on his forehead. He shuffled through the messages, then looked at Nelson, his gaze hard. "Is this a joke?" He glanced back down. "‘Please order more brass name plates for displays.'"

"See? He wanted me to order new brass name plates so that we could correct the information on them. They should have my name on them. I'm the genius behind their discovery."

The officer blinked at him, then flipped to the next note. "‘I will be out of the office on Tuesday and Wednesday.—C'"

"Exactly!" What was wrong with these imbeciles? "Clearly, he wanted me to take action while he was gone. To show initiative. That's what Mr. Carnegie expects of a good leader."

"But that's not what it says." The officer looked down on him—as if he were a child—and held up the note.

Fool! Cretin! "You don't know Mr. Carnegie like I do."

The officer shook his head. "There is nothing here that shows Mr. Carnegie had anything to do with the crimes of which you are accused. He didn't instruct you to do it. You did that all in your own wild mind."

Nelson snatched the papers back. "Just you wait until Mr. Carnegie hears about your treatment of me. I will—"

"Mr. Nelson!"

Andrew Carnegie's voice cut across the room. The small Scotsman stood in the doorway as the other officer grabbed Nelson's arm.

Nelson straightened, fighting against the officer's painful grip. He waved his fistful of papers toward his employer. "See? Mr. Carnegie is here to defend me. Yes, he left the note letting me know of his absence." He glanced at Mr. Carnegie with a grin. "That's when I knew, sir. I knew you wanted me to take charge. Show my initiative. Prove I am worthy to run your glorious institute. And I have!"

Mr. Carnegie strode across the thick Persian rug and stood before the desk. He leaned forward and pressed his fingertips onto the shiny oak surface. But his voice, when he spoke, was calm.

And ice cold.

"Are you ill, Mr. Nelson?"

The same strange look that had been on the officer's face now filled Carnegie's.

Nelson straightened his jacket and lifted his shoulders. "I am perfectly fine, sir ." Why was he kowtowing to this man? They had no idea who they were dealing with.

Carnegie straightened. "It will take a professional to diagnose if there is something wrong with your mind." He glanced at the officers, who nodded. What were they nodding about? Was this a conspiracy? They were all out to get him!

Carnegie's gaze came back to him. "But regardless, you, sir, will cease making a scene in my institute. As of this moment, you are fired and barred from ever walking these hallowed premises again. And if, indeed, you are fine, as you say, not only will you be prosecuted for your crimes, but I will ask the judge to ensure any sentence you receive includes a written apology to Dr. Masterson, Earl Douglass, and Eliza Mills for the damage you've done to each of them with your lies."

Nelson clenched his jaw. So. This explained it all.

The great man was mad!

"That woman will never get an apology from m—"

The officers grabbed his hands, wrenching them behind his back and snapping handcuffs on him.

"Don't you touch me! This is all a gross misunderstanding. You can't do this to me." He writhed against the cold metal digging into his wrists.

Ignoring his protests, the two officers gripped his biceps and shoved him forward, cutting him off from any further response.

No matter. He would have his day in court. That would be the day Andrew Carnegie would regret thinking he could ever defeat him.

W EDNESDAY , A UGUST 16, 1916 · J ENSEN

This was not what Devin had planned.

He thought he'd get off the train, go see the sheriff, and then spend the evening with Eliza and ask her if she loved him. If she said yes, he'd propose.

Simple.

But no one knew where she was.

Mr. Hawkins went straight to the sheriff after he'd gone to tell his wife that her mother was ill. But Deborah hadn't been at the dig site. Neither had Eliza. Tools were scattered about, and neither one of them ever left their tools unattended.

Devin paced the sheriff's station as they gathered the deputies and men from town to help in the search.

One of the deputies raced up. "Sheriff! Herb said that he'd delivered a telegram to Eliza."

"How long ago? And where ?" The sheriff's thunderous voice revealed his aggravation that they'd been a few hours too late to catch whoever kidnapped those women.

"Almost six, sir. He delivered it at the Meyer ranch."

"All right, men." The sheriff climbed on a chair and looked at each man in the room. "We'll start by combing every inch of that ranch. Lucas Meyer will be with me. He knows it better than any of us. Let's divide into ten groups. Fire three shots in succession into the air if you find them. Doc will be waiting at the ranch house in case anyone is injured." He hopped down. "Let's get out there. Only a few more hours until we lose daylight."

As the men left the sheriff's office and mounted up, what looked like a sea of horses headed out toward the Meyer ranch.

Lucas Meyer rode next to Devin.

Devin glanced at the ranch owner. He'd gotten awfully thin sitting in a jail cell all this time. "You holding up?"

"Yeah. Just wish we'd been able to go through with the sheriff's plan."

"Me too. Before anything happened to Eliza." He gulped back the worries his statement conjured up.

Thank heaven the sheriff had taken Devin into his confidence when he arrived, explaining that he and Lucas came up with the idea to arrest Lucas as a ruse, to trap the real killer. It was a brilliant plan and should have worked.

The sheriff told Devin that Lucas had seen hints of the truth of what happened over the years, but it wasn't until his animals were killed that his suspicions were confirmed. Then, when seven of his own workers died, he'd gone to the sheriff with everything he knew.

They'd been so close to snatching up the killer. If only Devin had gotten there earlier. They could have stopped the kidnapping from happening.

"I'm so sorry about everything you've had to go through, Lucas. It must have been horrific to endure all the loss and tragedy you've experienced."

Lucas rode in silence for several moments, then shook his head. "I can't say it's been easy, but the good Lord has been with me. Even when I've felt completely alone, He's been there." He shifted in the saddle. "For a long time, I thought all the loss was my punishment for leaving the ranch and my family. That the only way to make it up to them was by keeping the ranch going. But now..." His hands tightened on his reins. "I think it's best if I just sell the ranch and start over somewhere else. There's too many bad memories there. Too much grief."

They reached the edge of town and the men all pushed their horses to run at full-speed.

As the hooves pounded the ground, Devin pleaded with God to keep Eliza and Deborah safe.

Too many people had lost their lives.

He couldn't lose Eliza. Not when he was so close to finally making her his own.

W EDNESDAY , A UGUST 16, 1916 · J ENSEN

"They're sure to search the whole ranch tonight." Melissa stared at her captives. "And then tomorrow, they'll widen the search and go elsewhere. That's when you three will help me dig up my gold."

The young Adams girl sobbed.

Melissa rolled her eyes. The girl had no idea what suffering was.

"I'm so sorry, Eliza." The girl spoke between whining and gulping for air. "I wanted something bad to happen to you. Mrs. Friedman said you'd done bad things at the ranch—damage to the property. Even stolen things! She was so mad and wanted to know where you were."

Melissa had to give it to the Mills woman. She was calm, as though she were sitting in a drawing room and not restrained by ropes in a shack. "It's not your fault, Louise. You're forgiven. She already knew where we were. We saw her the other day."

Aha. The paleontologist's soothing tone had grown angry with the last statement. So maybe she had some backbone after all. That would make this more interesting.

And fun.

The woman pointed her icy stare at Melissa. "Since we're going to be here all night, why don't you tell us what this is all about? Did you kill all those animals? And your brother's workers too?"

Melissa allowed a small laugh. She sat on the last chair in the little shack, resting her Colt on her knee. Aimed right at her guests. "Little miss paleontologist princess thinks she has it all figured out?" She looked at the other woman. Deborah? Was that her name? "What about you? Do you think I'm a murderer?"

While this woman showed more fear than Miss Mills, she clamped her lips together and didn't answer.

As for the blasted paleontologist, she didn't give up. "You did it. You killed them. And you were behind the stolen tools and the vandalism, weren't you? And all the events on the ranch that made people think it was haunted. For how many years?" Her eyes filled with disdain. "All for what ... gold?"

How dare she mock her! "You would belittle it. From what I heard, you grew up in a mansion and your family has scads of money. You wouldn't understand what gold could do for me. I have nothing! Nothing beyond what I've taken. And yes, I killed for it. But you missed one. I also killed my good-for-nothin' husband. Now what do you think? You with your fancy clothes and hats."

Melissa stood, knocking her chair over. In two paces she was in front of that little rich girl, her gun pointed straight at the interloper's heart. "You have no idea what it is to suffer at the hands of controlling men. To be the daughter of a wealthy man and never see a penny of it. To be sent out every night on rat duty because that's all a girl was good for." She gulped. "To long to be loved and taken care of, and when you meet someone you adore, your father tells you it's forbidden to marry a bum like him."

She didn't owe this woman any explanation! But having started, she couldn't stop.

"And when you do get married, the man turns into a hateful, greedy monster, and your family disowns you. They all deserved to die. This ranch should be mine. That gold will be mine. Don't judge me until you understand what it's like to be m—"

Crash!

The door behind her fell off its hinges, and men flooded into the shack.

" No!" She turned toward Eliza and pulled the trigger.