The Hidden

Scarlet was amazed to realize that she enjoyed Daniel’s company, even if he was a ghost.

She and Meg kept reading the journals, while Daniel, who had reappeared after about twenty minutes, actually became helpful, wandering through the museum and periodically commenting on one piece or another, which had the unexpected effect of making Scarlet remember some bit of information stored at the back of her mind, and that would lead her to explore some new angle, either in the journal or online. At one point Daniel read aloud from the century-old note that described a Civil War–era surgeon’s bag. “‘Last used by Dr. Avery Simpson, after a mining accident. Dr. Avery was called in to treat miner Brady Glee, possibly an alias of notorious outlaw Brian Gleason, but Glee unfortunately expired despite the surgeon’s efforts.’” He stopped reading. “Did you know about this?”

“Of course,” Scarlet said. “I know every artifact in here. But I’ve researched the possibility that the dead man might have been Brian Gleason and haven’t found any support for it. Of course, I also can’t find any reference to Gleason’s death anywhere.”

“Doesn’t that make it more likely that Glee was Gleason and did die in that mining accident?” Meg asked.

“Yes, I guess you’re right. It’s just that in academia we try to find supporting sources before considering information verified,” Scarlet said.

Daniel laughed softly. “This isn’t academia, Scarlet.”

Scarlet set down the journal she’d been reading, picked up her laptop and started keying in her notes.

“All right, let’s see how the dates connect. Nathan bought the property from Rollo Conway in late 1868. His old buddies arrived in 1869, soon after he’d married Jillian. Billie Merton died in November of 1869. The mine accident was in the fall of 1870.” She looked up. “And Nathan and Jillian were also killed in the fall of 1870.”

“Before or after the accident?” Daniel asked. “Because if the mine accident was before Nathan and Jillian were murdered, and if Brady Glee was Brian Gleason, then he was dead before the murders, too, so he couldn’t have been guilty, either.”

“I don’t have a date for the accident,” Scarlet said. “I’ll have to research that.”

“Does the mine still exist?” Meg asked.

“No, it was sealed up around 1910,” Scarlet said. “They mined for gold there, though not all that successfully. They panned in the streams around here, too. Rollo Conway tried that, but he never found much. That’s why he sold this property to Nathan Kendall—he wanted to try his luck south of Estes Park.”

“And yet he came back here and he’s buried up at the cemetery,” Daniel said.

“He was an interesting man,” Scarlet said. She searched through the stack of journals on her desk and found the one she was looking for. “Here’s Nathan’s description of him. ‘Rollo is what you expect to see, rugged and fit and old—yet how old, I really don’t know. He has dark eyes that contrast with his snow-white hair and long beard. He could easily be mistaken for a preacher of some kind. Rollo, though, he claims that the ladies love him. Maybe they do—he’s as fit as a fiddle, as mean as a boar when he chooses, and he talks the good talk. A rider coming through one day told me he knew old Rollo from back East. Supposedly he still sends money back to a woman and child there, though there was never any talk of him being married. He’s mad as a hornet about selling this property. He’d kick the whole damned mountain if he could, so he told me.’”

“Sounds like the epitome of the old frontier type,” Daniel said. “I guess you do get mean when you’re always fighting off Indians and bears and whatever.”