“That’s where he keeps his private car,” Osborne murmured. He peeked around the corner and came back with narrowed eyes. “He has a few freight cars there too. Strange.”
Walker did a quick survey of the area. “If we can get over to that caboose, we might get a better look.”
“My thought too.” He peeked out again, holding a hand up. When he motioned with it a moment later, Walker took his cue to follow, stealthy as a shadow, to a better position.
Hughes had opened one of the freight cars, the hefty lock still swaying from the door’s slide. He was even then disappearing into the interior, though he reemerged quickly, marking something upon the paper in his hands. Then he shut the door again, fastened the lock, and slid the key into his pocket.
Walker hugged the caboose’s wall until the crunch of Hughes’s shoes on the gravel faded. He looked over at Osborne. “Did you see what I saw in there?”
“Crates of guns.” Osborne exhaled. “Looked like ammunition too. Not good.”
“You think he’s storing them for use here or means to move them?”
Osborne shook his head. “Surely if he intended some sort of riot here, the Knights would all be involved. But where else would he be taking them?”
“Maybe they were intended for the Confederate troops. Before the surrender.”
That made sense, but Oz’s head kept on shaking. “It doesn’t feel right. They must be tied to whatever else he’s been doing. I’ve read through so much of his stuff at this point, surely the pieces are there. I just can’t quite put them together.”
Walker held his breath and waited for some other answer, any other answer, to come to mind. None did. “You could ask Yetta for help.”
Osborne’s eyes went dark as midnight. “No.”
“I know you don’t want to get her involved. But her memory is…good. She could help.”
“If by good you mean perfect, then yeah, I know. But the answer is still no.” He pivoted and headed in the direction opposite Hughes’s.
“She told you?” Surprise had him lurching to catch up.
Apparently so obvious an observation didn’t warrant an answer. Osborne said nothing for a solid minute as they walked. Then he sucked in a deep breath. “I know she could help. I know she would. But I can’t ask it. I can’t risk her.”
Walker understood that. He’d sooner die than bring Cora into any of this mess. But then, Cora wasn’t in a position to stop a monster. Marietta was. “What if it comes down to no other way?”
Again silence answered him. But this time, it seemed to say Osborne knew well that it was a decent question. He just didn’t like it.
Twenty-Nine
Slade closed the prayer book and returned it to his pocket, but peace still eluded him. He had tossed and turned all night. He had risen before dawn, fallen to his knees, and prayed everything he could think to pray, begging the Lord for answers. But the vise around his chest wouldn’t ease.
“Are you all right?” Marietta’s delicate fingers rested on his arm, a quiet demand for his attention.
He looked up and wondered when Barbara and Mrs. Hughes had left the room. The fact that he didn’t know made his brows knit. His job was to know, to watch, even when doing something else. If he was failing at that today, then something had to change.
His gaze made its way to Marietta’s face, and the vise went tighter. “Hmm?”
“You are brooding,” she accused. Then she smiled. “More than usual.”
Because he couldn’t help it, he smiled. And because he had no right to smile, it vanished. She was still too beautiful, too able to use it to her advantage, but if she were still just that, this wouldn’t bother him. He wouldn’t care, more than in a general sense, how she fared when all this was done.
But he did. Because she was too much more than beautiful, and he was far, far too aware of it.
If only there were another way.
There wasn’t. “Yetta.” He moved the arm under her fingers, caught them in his, and urged her to sit on the couch beside him. “How good are you at puzzles?”
She sank to the cushion, her green eyes narrowing. “Good, unless they are too complex. When too many memories clamor, it takes time to sort through them all. Why?”
Why indeed? Why was he even considering laying all his cards on the table and asking her to build his hand?
He knew the answer. Because she could help, and he needed it. Because if he didn’t figure this out now, he would never make right Ross’s wrongs.
Why, then, did he hesitate?
But he knew that answer too. Because he wasn’t so sure, anymore, what mattered more to him. Bringing down the Knights of the Golden Circle or protecting Marietta Arnaud Hughes.
He kissed her hand but then released it. At this point, he couldn’t do either without her help. “Do you still want to see the castle?”
Her eyes went wide, her lips parted. “You changed your mind?”
He stood and held out a hand to help her up too. “I’m running out of time. I still don’t think it’s a great idea for your sake, but…I need you.”