A Treasure Concealed (25 page)

“He tried to scare me into stayin' there. Said I was about to lose the leg. I told him I wasn't gonna let him take it, so I might as well go home. He wasn't happy, but I figure that's because I denied him the chance to make a lot of money and practice his amputating skills.”

Taber frowned. “Are you sure you shouldn't have stayed? I've already lost one brother, and I don't like the idea of losing another.”

Kirk shook his head. “You ain't losin' me. I'm fine. Just need some rest.”

Taber poured them both a whiskey. “And all this trouble from that little Carver gal. Guess she needs to pay for what she's done.”

“Yeah.” Kirk tossed back the whiskey. “She does, and I've been mullin' over just how to go about that. But it's not just
that. The bartender told me Carver is definitely still alive. I think we're gonna have to go to Lewistown and finish the job.”

“Don't you think they'll be lookin' for you?”

Kirk shrugged. “I figure we can work out the details while my leg heals. It'll be a while—maybe another week or two. By that time they will have forgotten all about me.”

Taber laughed. “Don't count on it. From what you've told me about Emily Carver, I doubt she'll let this go. Maybe we should just take her with us to Lewistown for safekeeping. Maybe if she's with us, the others will know we mean business.”

“Like I said, we can make our plans while my leg heals.” Kirk groaned and closed his eyes. “Right now I just need some sleep.”

Kirk tossed and turned. The pain refused to abate, and he was now beginning to wonder if the doctor had been right. Taber attended to him, bringing a wet towel to cool down the fever, but nothing seemed to help.

“Doc said to soak some towels in hot vinegar and put it on the wound.” His voice was barely audible.

“You want me to do that?” Taber asked. The worry in his expression left Kirk afraid of just how bad things were.

“I don't suppose it could hurt.”

Taber nodded and went to the stove. The tiny shack rattled and allowed in drafts of cold air as the wind blew hard. “It started snowing a little while ago. Maybe we should think about heading south—after you take care of business, of course.”

“Might be I'll have to have you take care of it,” Kirk murmured. “It worked once. I'm sure it could work again.”

He smiled to himself at the memory of Taber posing as Kirk in Utica. They had come up with the scheme together. Taber would cause a ruckus and get himself thrown into jail as Kirk Davies. Meanwhile, Kirk would go and kill Henry Carver and his daughter. It had nearly worked, and had Kirk not heard someone calling out to Carver, he would have finished the job. But with Taber in the jail, Kirk knew it was best to get out of sight. He'd hoped that the bullet he'd put in Carver would have taken care of the job. It was a great annoyance that it hadn't, but the ruse had served its purpose. The marshal hadn't even bothered to question him about the shooting.

“I'm thinkin' maybe I could go back to the doc and agree to stay at his place. Then you could go and kill Carver in Lewistown and then come back here and nab the woman. You could bring her here and tie her up. I'll no doubt hear about her disappearin' and then I'll know it's safe to come back.” He forced a smile. “I'll have my alibi, Carver will be dead, and we'll have our fun.”

Taber nodded. “I think you just might have a plan there.”

Albany was much as Caeden had left it well over a year ago, only now it was covered in snow. He had wrestled with his conscience about returning ever since leaving Montana. He had also spent a good deal of time in prayer. His heart toward God had changed little by little. He knew Emily's influence had helped in that matter, but more so, he'd started truly trying to seek God on his own.

The thing that troubled him most, however, was a deep fear that God couldn't forgive him for having turned away. Now as he made his way to see his uncle, Caeden hoped to
discuss the matter with him. Uncle Jasper had always been a man of God, and if anyone had the answers, Caeden felt certain he would.

He'd been in town for less than twenty-four hours, but already word had reached him from Catherine, as well as her father. The missives had come separately, hand delivered to his hotel by staff members of the Arnold household. It was clear that Bishop Arnold was still in the dark about the engagement. His letter was quite simple—stating that it was imperative Caeden come for dinner so that they could get the wedding date set and start making plans. Arnold also mentioned a business venture on which he wanted Caeden's opinion.

Catherine's note had been simpler still with just four words: “I've made my arrangements.”

It was her signal to him that he could break the engagement. Caeden figured to kill two birds with one dinner appearance. He would show up, and prior to supper being served, he would announce that he'd given the matter great consideration but felt that he must now break their engagement. Arnold would be furious, but Caeden would soothe the man by assuring him he could keep the dowry. Caeden hadn't yet decided what excuse he would use for ending his betrothal but felt certain it wouldn't matter. Arnold would try to change his mind, and Caeden would stand fast and refuse.

Uncle Jasper's butler opened the door to admit Caeden. The black man smiled, quite delighted to see him. “Good morning, sir. Your uncle has talked of nothing but your return. You'll find him in the library.”

“Thank you, George. How are you these days?”

George had been a free man all of his life, and for a good portion of it he had worked as Uncle Jasper's butler, although the two were more like friends. “Exceptionally well, sir. Thank
you for asking.” He beamed Caeden a smile. “It's been kind of quiet without you around.”

Caeden couldn't help but smile. This man had taught him a good deal about baseball when they were both much younger. “Hit any home runs lately?”

George chuckled. “Not of late, sir.”

Caeden shrugged out of his coat. “Me either, and I think it's a pity on both of our accounts. If I were staying in town longer, I'd have to put together a game just to see if you could still hit those lightning-fast grounders that I could never catch.”

George took Caeden's hat and coat. “I'm afraid my days of being lightning fast are gone. I'm more a gentle summer rain these days.”

Caeden chuckled and made his way to his uncle's library on the second floor. Caeden knew the way by heart. He'd come here often as a means of escaping his father's temper, and the place was more home to him than the estate on which he'd been raised.

Uncle Jasper was a most distinguished-looking man at the age of fifty-eight. His black hair was peppered with white, but he still bore the appearance of a man ten years his junior. He sat near the fire reading, as Caeden remembered him doing so often in years gone by.

“Hello, Uncle.”

Jasper Carrington looked up, his expression one of pure joy. “Caeden, my boy, I thought you'd never make it. How good to have you finally here.” He got up and crossed the room. “Let me see how you've fared.”

Caeden laughed and embraced his uncle. “As well as anyone can when they've spent the last few weeks in Washington, DC. How are you?”

“Splendid now that you're here. Do tell me you're going to be back for a while.”

Sobering, Caeden shook his head. “No. But that's why I wanted to come speak with you right away.”

His uncle nodded. “Ah, it's just as I presumed. Have a seat. Have you had breakfast?”

Caeden took a chair and stretched out his legs. “Yes, at the hotel.”

“You should have come here to stay. You know you're welcome to be here while you're in town. In fact, I insist.”

“It was late when I got back last night. I didn't want to rouse poor George or Mrs. Claremont out of their beds.”

“Mrs. Claremont has been housekeeper here long enough to know that people might come or go at any given hour, and George has always welcomed you here. So do say you'll at least have your things moved over while you're here in Albany. Goodness, you are staying for Christmas, aren't you? It's only a week away.”

“I am going to stay that long,” Caeden replied. He ran his hands down the gray wool of his trousers. “I figure I owe my family that much. But there's a lot I want to accomplish in that time.”

“I presume much of that has to do with Bishop Arnold.”

His uncle reclaimed his leather wingback chair, a longtime favorite. In all of his memories of Uncle Jasper, that chair figured into most. When Caeden was born, Jasper had been about the same age as Caeden was now. Caeden could remember being quite young and curling up on Jasper's lap to hear a story. Here in front of the hearth, the large brown leather arms would engulf him in a warm embrace. Times here with Jasper were very nearly his only pleasant childhood memories.

“You might as well know,” his uncle continued, “Arnold is in a bad way. He came to me two days ago.”

“Why? He received the dowry, didn't he?”

With elbows planted on the arms of the chair, Jasper steepled
his fingers together. “It would seem the man was duped by someone who sold him a worthless gold mine.”

“But I anticipated that. I figured we gave him enough to absorb that loss and keep him afloat for a while.”

“Well, it seems he spent a great deal arranging for men to work in the mine and purchasing equipment with which to make his fortune. But, just as you said in your letter to me, the mine is worthless.”

“So why did he come to see you?” Caeden fought back the irritation that threatened to ruin his visit.

“He didn't know when you would arrive. He hoped to convince you to give him more money until he could recoup his losses. I told him that it had come to our attention that your father had taken advantage of him in their final business venture and that you wished to return that money with interest. After that, he seemed content and had little more to say. I gave him a check just as you instructed me to do.”

“I'm to have dinner with him tonight. He believes it's to set a wedding date, but I intend to break the engagement instead. Catherine sent word that she's ready for me to do so, and I see no reason to delay.”

“Bishop won't like that.”

Caeden shrugged and crossed his arms. “I really don't care. The man will have to figure out his own way. I pity the family and hope that since Catherine is soon to elope with her true love, perhaps they will be able to benefit her mother and siblings with his income.”

“It should be so. The young man in question has just come into his inheritance. A sizable one that was unexpected. It seems his grandmother died and left him everything. It's raised some hackles among his siblings, but I doubt it will cause him too much grief. He should be quite acceptable to Bishop.”

“I'm just glad that Catherine can marry for love.”

“And what of you?” His uncle looked at him with a knowing smile. “Your letter spoke of a certain young woman in Montana.”

“Emily. I have to own that I've lost my heart to her.”

“And she's agreed to marry you?”

This brought a grin to Caeden's face. “I didn't propose exactly, but she did agree to wait.” He just as quickly sobered again. “But none of this is the real reason I've come today. Besides spending time with you, I hoped to get your counsel. In fact, I have to have your counsel before I can return to Emily and ask for her hand.”

“You want my counsel on marriage? You know I've been a widower since before you were born.” His uncle shook his head and relaxed his hands. “I doubt I can offer you much wisdom.”

“No, not about marriage. About God.”

Jasper's expression softened. “Go on.”

Caeden looked downward at the ornate Persian rug. “How can a person know if God really and truly forgives him?”

“I suppose because the Bible says that if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins. It's one of those things that must be taken on faith. Why do you ask?”