Corbin entered the O’Conner home for a third time this evening, wishing he had different news. What had been a simple missing-person case had turned into something far more serious. His investigation had been clear. Isaiah Morgan had been murdered.
He stood at the threshold of the open doorway, uncertain how he should proceed. The last thing he wanted was to add pain to the already grieving family. They sat huddled together in the large room. The smell of fried chicken lingered in the air, but no one had touched Milena’s dinner. Dealing with their father’s death was going to be difficult enough, but knowing how he died was like rubbing salt into the open wound.
Catherine glanced up, and he motioned for her to join him on the front porch.
Neither spoke as she closed the door behind her and followed him out to the railing. Crickets chirped their unscripted melody in the background, competing only with the occasional roar of an ostrich. Corbin’s gaze wandered across the shadowy horizon. The mammoth bird made an odd silhouette—the Ohio landscape was known more for its corn and wheat crops than exotic wildlife. Emily O’Conner was the only woman he knew who could convince her husband to defy the laws of nature and raise a bunch of brainless birds for the sake of fashion.
He turned to Catherine, who stood quietly beside him, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.
A pale beam of moonlight illuminated the side of her face, making her look both vulnerable and determined at the same time. Maybe he understood Grady O’Conner better than he thought.
“What did you find out?” she finally asked, breaking the silence between them.
Corbin stared at the tips of his boots. Even with only the light from the moon and a handful of lanterns, the cause of Isaiah’s death had been clear. The answers as to why, however, were not. “Your father was murdered.”
“Murdered?” Catherine gasped then pressed her fingers against her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. “There has to be some sort of mistake. Why would anyone want to kill him?”
He watched as her expression changed from the sadness of knowing her father was dead, to the horror of realizing someone had purposely taken his life. “I’m sorry, Catherine. So very sorry.”
Her hands gripped the whitewashed porch railing. “How did he die?”
“He was shot in the heart.”
She looked up at him with the look of undeniable grief in her eyes. “It could have been an accident. He liked to hunt. Maybe he took his gun, or one of Grady’s guns, and fell, or—”
Corbin shook his head. “The bullet doesn’t match his pistol and none of Grady’s guns are missing. Besides that, there was another set of footprints. Someone was there on a horse. This wasn’t an accident.”
Catherine’s chest heaved. “I can’t tell my sisters our father was murdered. What about Emily and the baby…She’s already lost so much. We all have.”
“The problem is that they will find out, Catherine. If not from you, from someone else. You’ve got to tell them.” He drew in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry. I have no right to—”
“No.” She reached up and brushed the sleeve of his jacket before pulling away. “You’re right. I just…I just can’t believe someone would want to harm him.”
“There’s something else.” Corbin rubbed his chin, wondering how much he should tell her. She was strong, of that he had no doubt, but even Catherine Morgan—while she’d most likely go to her grave denying it—had her limits. “No one else knows about this, but I found a possible connection…”
“What are you talking about?”
He shoved his hands into his front pockets. He had to tell her the truth. “I found the bullet that killed your father. It had a triangular base.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It was a .69 French Dragoon bullet. Just like the bullets used in the robberies.”
“You’re telling me that there’s a connection between my father and the Masked Gang?”
“There are too many things that don’t add up, Catherine. Why did your father return now, after all these years? I can’t say for sure, but yes, there could be a connection.”
“At least Harrison has an alibi for the murder.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “And if the same bullets were used, doesn’t that clear his connection to the robberies as well?”
“Maybe, though I’m not ready to dismiss anything entirely. There’s always the chance that someone else in the gang used his gun.”
She looked up at him. “So what do I do?”
“Nothing—”
“I won’t stand by and do nothing.”
“I will find out who did this. I promise.”
Catherine shook her head. “The Masked Gang is still on the loose and my father’s dead. Don’t make me any more promises you can’t keep.”
Corbin reigned in his temper. “I will find them, Catherine. They killed my father, too, and nothing is going to stop me until I find out the truth.”
Catherine sat down on the edge of Emily’s settee and clenched her hands together. Emily and Audrey sat across from her, their eyes laced with tears. She might not have welcomed her father back to Revenge, but neither did she want him dead. “I’ve just spoken to Corbin, and he’s given me some disturbing news. I believe that you all need to hear the truth from me—before you hear it from someone else.”
Harrison stood across the room, a longing in his eyes as he looked at Audrey, but they would have to find time to talk later. Their father’s death was going to have to be dealt with first.
Please, God…give me the words to speak to them.
Catherine pressed back a strand of hair from her damp forehead. “I know that this news about Father came as a shock to all of us. But Corbin found out something more.” She watched their reactions carefully, wishing there was something she could do to take away the sting of what she was about to say. “Father was shot in the heart. He was murdered.”
The room fell silent.
“We just got him back, and now you’re telling me that not only is he dead, but that he was murdered?” Emily rose from her seat. “No. I can’t accept that someone shot him in cold blood, for…for what? We need to get a posse together and find out who did this.”
Grady tugged her back down onto the couch. “Emily. You’ve got to calm down.”
“I want to assure you, Mrs. O’Conner, that I will do everything in my power to find out who did this.” Corbin spoke from the doorway. “But for now, it’s too dark, and we won’t be able to track whoever did this until morning.”
“So you’re giving up?”
“Of course not, but at the moment I have little to go by other than a few sets of footprints. But I assure you, we will do everything we can to find out who committed this atrocity.”
Catherine stood, agonizing over the thought of leaving her sisters. “I’ve got to get home to Lily. She needs to know what’s happened. I can’t have her finding out from someone else.”
Emily nodded. “Audrey can stay here tonight, and if we need anything…I’ll call.”
Catherine’s arm shook as she picked up her hat.
“You’re in no condition to go anywhere, Catherine,” Audrey said.
Corbin spoke from across the room. “I’ll take her home.”
Corbin gripped the reigns of the horse and headed toward town. “I meant what I said earlier. We’re going to find who did this.”
“What if we don’t?” She shook her head. “I just don’t understand why. He hasn’t been here for years. He doesn’t have any enemies, and certainly doesn’t have anything to do with these robberies. It doesn’t make sense. What has this world turned into if we have to constantly worry about our family members being murdered in cold blood?”
Corbin’s jaw tensed. He stared straight ahead through the darkness ahead of him, lit only by a handful of stars and the half moon. On any other night he might relish the fact that Catherine sat beside him. If only circumstances were different. He let out a soft sigh. He’d learned a long time again that all the wishing in the world couldn’t change things.
He felt her gloved hand on his forearm and felt a burning soar through his veins. Catherine’s love for him had dried up years ago, and no matter what a few lingering emotions might tell him, he wasn’t going to try to change things between them.
“All of this must bring back memories of your own father,” she said. “I remember how close you were to him.”
“He was a good man who only wanted what was best for his family.”
“How did you get through it? At the moment, I’m so numb I don’t know what to feel. Guilt, for not making things right. Loss, for the years without him that are forever gone. Relief, that he’ll never hurt me or my sisters again…”
“Forgiveness is a choice. Sometimes you have to forgive others. Sometimes you have to forgive yourself.”
Unfortunately, he hadn’t taken his own advice. He still harbored regrets over not being there to stop his father’s murder. Or his inability to take down the murderer. It was easier to say the words to someone else then to follow them himself.
“Tell me what happened.”
Corbin sat quiet for a moment, lost in resurrected emotions from the past. “We’d just planned a hunting trip the week before. I was excited because it had been years since I’d gone with him. The next thing I knew, the sheriff was knocking at my door with news that he’d been murdered. I’ll never forget the crash of emotions that overcame me. The denial, the anger, the grief, knowing that I wouldn’t stop until the man who had killed him was hanged.”
“And you’re still trying to avenge his death.”
“He never should have died.”z; Familiar seeds of anger rose. Why was it so easy to tell someone else the importance of forgiveness, when he’d yet to find a way in his own life? “He died because of another man’s greed. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive.”
“You just told me that forgiveness is a choice.”
“My father told me that once. It’s good advice.”
“But hard to do.” Catherine gripped the edge of the seat and shook her head. “Why would God bring Father back to us only to take him away before things were made right between us?”
“God wasn’t the one who took your father’s life.” Corbin reached out and grasped her hand as they approached the edge of town. “I promise I’ll find out who did this, Catherine.”
“You can’t make that kind of promise. Sometimes evil simply triumphs.”
“Not this time.”
He set the wagon’s brake in front of the store then turned toward her. The moonlight caught her wide eyes full of pain. The myriad emotions he had been trying unsuccessfully to ignore since his arrival in Revenge returned full force. The day he told her he wanted to court her…The day he asked her to marry him…The day she told him she didn’t love him…Looking into her eyes, he could almost forget the damage she’d done to his heart and the resentment she’d left behind that day.
Her face hovered in front of his—full lips, blushed cheeks, unspoken expectations. Without thinking further, he slid his hand around her neck and pulled her toward him. His heart exploded with emotions left dormant for too long. This was what he’d dreamed of. This was what he’d been missing.
For a moment, he felt her respond.
“Please…not now.” Catherine pushed away from him and shook her head. “It can’t work between us. It’s too late.”
“You never stopped loving me, did you, Catherine?”
Her eyes welled with fresh tears. “I can’t love you.”
He gripped her wrists. He needed to know. “Tell me the truth, Catherine.”
Catherine pulled away from his embrace and stumbled from the buggy toward the store.
Corbin watched her flee toward the house. He’d made his first mistake in courting Miss Catherine Morgan all those years ago, and now he’d just made his second. But he’d been right all along, and this was something he wouldn’t do again. Her actions showed all too clearly how she felt. And he, for one, wasn’t going to make the mistake of falling for her again.
The feel of Corbin’s touch still burned on Catherine’s lips while she worked to erase the memory of his kiss. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. With it had come a torrent of emotions tied together in an odd-shaped package that she didn’t know how to deal with. Anger, hurt, loneliness, pride…
She’d told him the truth. That she didn’t love him. That she couldn’t love him. Or was it merely a deception she’d tried to make herself believe? She closed the door behind her and entered the house.
“Miss Morgan?”
Catherine peered into the lamplight. John Guild stood in the doorway of the kitchen. “Mr. Guild, I’m sorry. You startled me.”
“I apologize. I wanted to stay until I knew you were home safely.”
“Thank you. Where’s Lily?”
“Mrs. Morrilton took her upstairs. She was so tired, but I didn’t want to leave her until I found out what had happened.”
“Yes. Thanks for staying with her. I appreciate it.”
“Mrs. Morrilton wasn’t too pleased that I was here so late—or that I’m still here. And while I suppose I should have joined the posse, I felt that Lily needed me here.”
“Mrs. Morrilton makes an intimidating chaperone, I’m sure.”
“We were allowed to sit across the room from each other and talk.”
Catherine laughed despite the somber events of the evening. “Thank you. For staying with her and putting up with the antics of the doctor’s wife. She does care.”
“Did you find your father?”
Catherine glanced at the bottom of the staircase, dreading what she was going to have to tell her sister.
“He’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“Murdered.” Fresh tears began to flow.
“I’m so sorry. And Lily…” John pressed his lips together. “I don’t know how she’s going to take this.”
“I know you care about my sister.”
“I’m in love with her.”
“I know.”
“There’s something I need to speak to you about.” John waited while she poured them both a glass of water. “I know the timing for this isn’t right. I’d planned to speak to Mr. Morgan, but now…”
Catherine handed him a glass of water. “You want to marry her, don’t you?”
He took a sip of his drink. “I’d take care of her. Provide a good home.”
“You have my permission. All I ask is that you wait until after the funeral to ask her. Give our father the respect he deserves.”
“Of course.” John set the glass on the counter. “Does the sheriff have any leads? Anything that might point in the direction of whoever did this?”
She shook her head. “Not enough to catch the person. There was a set of other footprints, but it was too dark to follow them. I suppose if they got lucky, they might be able to pick up the trail tomorrow, but by then I’m afraid it will be too late.”
Catherine thought about sharing the possible connection between her father’s death and the leader of the Masked Gang, but decided to respect Corbin’s wishes.
“I’ll go now. Please tell Lily that I’ll come by and check on her in the morning. Perhaps we can go for a ride to help clear her mind.”
“Thank you, John. For everything.”
Catherine locked the door behind him before mounting the stairs. A peek in Lily’s room showed that she was fast asleep. At least she was able to rest. The news could wait until morning.
“Mrs. Morrilton. Thank you so much for staying.”
The older woman got up from the rocking chair. “It was no problem. And your father. Did they find him?”
Catherine stepped from the room with Mrs. Morrilton, wondering how many times she was going to have to repeat what had happened. “They found his body near the creek. I’ll tell Lily in the morning.”
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. Many of us have fond memories of him from years ago. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be. If there is anything you need…”
“Thank you. I’m fine for now.”
“Then I’ll let myself out.”
Catherine stood in the doorway of her room for a moment then knelt in front of her mother’s hope chest.
Why, God? I might never have told him I forgave him, but this isn’t what I wanted.
Catherine lifted the lid of the wooden chest that was full of the few treasures she had of her mother’s. Handmade baby clothes, embroidered tea towels, her mother’s wedding dress…There were a few things she’d already passed on to Emily the day she’d married Grady. Others she planned to give Audrey and Lily on their wedding days, but for now, she simply needed to find a connection with all that she’d lost.
In the bottom corner of the chest was a stack of letters from her father. The week after her mother had died, she’d considered burning them, but in the end had decided to keep them, even though she’d never been able to bring herself to read them. But things had changed. And while she knew they might never find out who had killed her father, it was a place to begin. If there was any record of him finding gold, this was the one place she knew where to start looking.
She slid off the pink ribbon that held the letters together, opened the yellowed paper of the first envelope, and began reading.
September 12, 1877
My dearest Sarah.
It’s only been four months since I left Revenge, but it seems more like decades. I am well, but I miss you and the girls so much, I often wonder if I made the right choice in leaving. If it weren’t for the chance of giving us a better life, I think I’d be headed back to Ohio.
I’m sending this letter with a man who came through camp selling newspapers today. I have no idea how long this letter will take to get to you, or even if it will. But if you do eventually receive it, don’t worry about me. I have a place to sleep at night and enough food…
Catherine continued reading through references of freezing cold temperatures, long days of hard labor, and little food, but nothing about what he’d found. Or that he’d ever come to understand that family would always be more important than a better life financially. But all she needed now was something that might give her a clue to someone who might have wanted revenge against him. Or perhaps something that might distract her from Corbin’s kiss.
There have been enough secrets in this family.
She squeezed her eyes shut remembering Corbin’s words. Why hadn’t she been able to tell Corbin her own secret? Today might have been filled with a tangle of emotion that had ended with him kissing her, but Corbin hadn’t returned to Revenge for her. Nothing had changed between them. When all this was over, he’d realize his mistake and leave Revenge forever.
She pulled open another letter dated the following spring from the last she’d read, not long before her mother died.
My dearest Sarah,
How time passes quickly. To think that last spring I was helping you plant the garden, and this spring, I’ve yet to thaw out. I staked a second claim on the outskirts of Juneau, and in less than three months, it’s already yielded two thousand dollars. More than many people find in a couple years. I know it’s been long, but I just need a little more time. I hooked up with a partner. We’re certain that given a bit more time, we’ll strike it big. I’m planning to be home before winter comes, so watch for me, but this could be the big one, Sarah. I can feel it. Remember I love you. Just wait a little bit longer.
Catherine read through the remaining letters. She needed a name, or a clue…anything that might give her an insight as to who might have killed him. Her father had never mentioned a partner to her, and it was more than likely that their relationship had dissolved years ago. Or could it have something to do with his murder?
What her father hadn’t expected was that their mother would be buried by the time those first letters arrived. And he’d never kept his promise to return by winter. Catherine shoved the letters back into the chest, wishing she’d had the chance to ask him about his partner. And if they had struck it rich, where was the money?