Crossroads at the Stream

By Elizabeth A. Miller

Copper Creek Series - Book 4

Caught at a Crossroads Between Truth and Lies...
The promise of new life had taken on special significance with spring's arrival in 1881. After a hectic year full of upheaval, changes abounded in every corner of the small Missouri town of Copper Creek. New buildings, new faces and new romances were transforming the rural community plagued by scandal since rumors of a hidden copper mine became deadly last July. But all that trouble was behind them now. Or so the people of Copper Creek thought, until one balmy morning in March, the stage arrived carrying a passenger with a decidedly disturbing mission.

A man of mystery, Nathan Lawber was determined to keep his motives for coming to Copper Creek as murky as his identity. Tasked with investigating recent intrigues in town, his inquiries prompt him to form an unlikely partnership with Amanda Brown who was bent on carrying out a selfish coup of her own. Obsessed with the Reverend Henry Kohl, Amanda was determined to stop his approaching nuptials to Jane Randolph. But her misguided attempts to sway Henry's affections only managed to draw her deeper into Nathan's dangerous game.

With Amanda serving as a willing pawn, Nathan uncovers a damming secret Jane and Henry swore to conceal for the good of the entire town. But his ensuing gambit to complete his assignment and secure Jane for himself only leads to a difficult crossroads for them all. Faced with revealing the truth or sustaining a well-intentioned lie, they come to see the fate of everyone in Copper Creek hinge on a showdown between the scruples of a devious stranger and the tenacity of a trusted man of God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth A. Miller
• Release date: Nov 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370032709

Elizabeth A. Miller

Elizabeth Miller lives and works in St. Louis, Missouri. A partner and writing director for Innovative Writing Works, with a B.A. in English and professional writing from Fontbonne University, she has had a lifelong interest in novel writing. In all Elizabeth has penned nine novels and two nonfiction trivia books, “The Reel Musical Fan’s Trivia Book” and “The Ultimate Party Games Book”. When she isn’t writing, Elizabeth likes to watch old movies and enjoys spending time outdoors with her family.

Book preview

Crossroads at the Stream

Copper Creek Series - Book Four

Elizabeth A. Miller

Innovative Writing Works

St. Louis, Missouri

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth A. Miller.

All Rights Reserved.

Cover Image: Shutterstock -73595722

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and entirely the product of the author’s imagination.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

About the Author

More Books by Elizabeth A. Miller

Chapter One

March 1881

The sun’s gentle rays enveloped the tender green landscape in a warm embrace. Birds trilled in the treetops, beckoning spring to strengthen its grip, while the stream, at last free from its frozen bonds, flowed happily past the town of Copper Creek, Missouri. It’s cold, clear water rushed over rocks and fallen limbs, swirling down into a lazy pool where two fishermen had cast their lines to tempt the fat catfish below.

I don’t think there’s a better way to spend a day than fishing, Mark Riker declared.

Though he was no more than nine, Mark already considered himself an expert on life. His brush with death, just four months ago, had been an unforgettable adventure that had not only transformed his whole outlook, but it had brought him into the acquaintance of the sort of man he’d always idolized; the famous gunfighter, Ethan Slade.

Kidnapped and held captive by the local banker, Samuel Jenkins, Mark’s role as a hostage was to divert the sheriff’s attention while Jenkins robbed his own bank. Afterward, his life would have been forfeit had it not been for the objections of Jenkins’ partner, Ethan Slade. Together, Mark and Ethan helped to stop Jenkins and their actions not only saved the town’s economy, but forged a lifelong bond between the boy and the old gunslinger.

Mark’s companion that morning, the Reverend Henry Kohl, was the only other person who could understand what a bond like that really meant. He had been scarcely older than Mark when Ethan rode into his life and taught him how to be a man. For more than ten years, they rode side by side in search of Michael Randolph, who had murdered Henry’s father and betrayed his sister. When his quest for vengeance finally threatened to destroy him, Henry turned to the church and assumed his first post as pastor in Copper Creek last summer. An inordinate amount of change had occurred in his life since then, but his devotion to Ethan was one thing that would always remain the same.

Fishing is fun, Henry agreed, watching the current tug at his line. But I think you’d get bored with it if you had to do it every day.

Not me, Mark insisted.

Even you, Henry replied, tugging the boy’s straw hat down over his bright, mischievous eyes.

Mark pushed the brim back to its proper place and ceased to scowl the moment he saw Henry’s friendly smile.

I wish Mr. Slade coulda come with us, Mark said.

I’m sure he would have preferred it.

Is prison really as bad as they say?

Why? You planning on finding out for yourself, Henry teased.

Naw. I just hate to think of Mr. Slade locked up in one, when he never really did nothing wrong.

I hate to think of it too. But the judge was as lenient as he could be and Ethan will be out soon.

But to pen a man up just for hidin’ some money, which he didn’t keep in the first place….

It wasn’t Ethan’s money to hide, Henry gently corrected. He did the right thing admitting what he’d done and facing up to the law.

Not hardly, Mark grumbled.

It’s important to respect the law, Mark. If folks didn’t then we’d be living in chaos.

Maybe we should if the law says a great man like Ethan Slade has to stay behind bars while a no account worm like Nick Wyler gets to walk around scot free.

Is this Nick Wyler one of your classmates?

Mark shook his head. He’s the class ahead of me, but that doesn’t stop him from bullying the younger kids every chance he gets.

Have you told your teacher about it?

I’m not a fink, Mark insisted.

I’m sure Mr. Lewis would want to know about this.

If he did, he’d pay attention to things himself instead a sendin’ that silly girl to keep an eye on us.

You mean Miss Brown?

Mark nodded. I don’t like her.

Henry frowned and toyed with his line. It troubled him to hear Amanda Brown was having difficulties in her new post. He knew she had always wanted to be a teacher. She’d even moved to Logan last fall to try to start a school of her own. But her plans changed after she returned home to Copper Creek for the holidays and was brutally attacked on Christmas Eve.

During the intervening weeks, Sheriff Adams had been unable to find an explanation or a single suspect for the crime. However, the trauma of the encounter had left Amanda shattered and unwilling to abandon the security of home. As part of his pastoral duties, Henry had made regular visits with Amanda to try to draw her out of her fears. But she continually refused to return to her abandoned schoolhouse in Logan. After months of searching for a way to help her, Henry had finally managed to arrange an assistant teaching position for her at the Copper Creek School. He was sure occupying her mind with the tasks of her chosen profession would go a long way in restoring her confidence. Her eventual acceptance of the offer had been an immense relief to Henry. But now, it seemed his optimism regarding her recovery had been premature.

Do any of the other children feel the way you do about Miss Brown? Henry asked.

Some.

And the rest?

Dunno.

Well, what is it you don’t like about her? Henry pressed.

She’s mean and sneaky.

Mark.

It’s true.

Henry sighed. Mark, you know it’s wrong to tell fibs.

I’m not lyin’! Mark insisted. I seen her.

What did you see Miss Brown do?

She takes things out of Mr. Lewis’ desk.

Maybe he gave her permission.

She slips off when no one is looking during the middle of the day.

She might have been feeling unwell….

She shouted at Roger and Minnie Crawley when they followed her and made Minnie cry.

Henry took pause that shy Amanda Brown could have re-acted violently enough to make anyone cry. Well, she was wrong to lose her temper. But Roger and Minnie were equally guilty for spying on her.

They weren’t neither spying! Mr. Lewis told them to go and fetch her.

I see, Henry uttered, his thoughts a jumble of contradictions. Perhaps I’d—

Holy cow! Mark leapt up, cutting Henry off. He seized his fishing pole and fought against the mighty tug on the opposite end. The battle lasted only a few moments until Mark pulled back with all his strength and a glistening display of scales and whiskers landed on the bank with a thump. Beaming with pride, Mark bent down to scoop up his prize.

Distracted by all the excitement, Henry forgot about Amanda and laughed in spite of himself. What a monster! Henry exclaimed.

I bet it’s the biggest catfish in the whole stream, Mark replied.

You should be mighty proud.

A look of consternation spread across Mark’s face.

What’s wrong? Henry asked.

Now that I got him, what should I do with him?

Henry smirked. I thought you planned to cook your catches today.

"I just can’t do that to him."

You mean you want to let him go?

Nobody will believe I caught him if I do, Mark bemoaned.

That’s the chance you’ll have to take, Mark.

Mark stared at the glorious creature dangling from his hand, squirm and writhe, as it gasped for air. Then with a sigh, he chose to administer compassion beyond his years and set his noble adversary free. Watching the catfish slink away into the murky depths, Mark said, I guess anyone who doesn’t want to believe me don’t have to. But we know the truth, don’t we, Reverend?

That’s right, Mark.

I’m no liar. And when I tell them something’s so, anyone who’s really my friend will believe me.

Henry reached out to put a hand on Mark’s shoulder, shamed by the dual meaning of the boy’s words.

I’m sorry, Mark, Henry said. I do believe you. What’s more I’m going to find out what’s troubling Miss Brown and try to fix the problem.

Promise?

Promise, Henry said.

Mark nodded and Henry lightly slapped him on the back. You better get some more bait on that hook now, while they’re still biting, huh.

They both smiled and settled back down to their pleasant pastime. As the hours slipped by, the serenity of the morning created an idyllic picture that seemed to have been created for their eyes alone. They were finally reminded of the outside world when the sound of a horse and carriage rumbled by on the road behind them. A young woman, with a plain face and large, brown eyes, stopped just opposite them and stepped down from her conveyance. Henry smiled at the sight of her.

It’s Miss Randolph, he told Mark.

Mark sneered and went back to watching the water. Miss Jane Randolph was Henry’s fiancée and Mark had no interest in witnessing their mushy greeting.

Henry scrambled up the bank and hurried over to Jane.

What brings you all the way out here? he asked, as he took her hand and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

Lunch, Jane pronounced. You and Mark were in such a hurry this morning you forgot the basket you’d packed. She drew the hamper of sandwiches from behind her back and handed it to Henry. I figured you two would be getting hungry about now so I thought I’d bring it along.

Jane, you’re an angel. Henry’s green eyes lit with affection as he wound his free arm about her waist and led her down to the water.

Catch anything yet? she asked Mark, when they reached the creek bank.

Yup, he replied. The granddaddy of all catfish.

My, how thrilling, Jane said, smiling. I guess I needn’t have worried then that you boys would starve.

I let him go, Mark replied. Seemed the only thing to do.

Jane looked to Henry for confirmation. He nodded. Which is why I’m so grateful you noticed our forgotten vittles, Henry added.

I wouldn’t have if Rachel and I hadn’t stopped by the house early to start getting ready for the party tonight.

Party?

Henry Kohl don’t tell me you forgot what day it is?

March twenty-sixth. So?

So! Jane chided. Olivia and Simon are coming back from their honeymoon today.

Henry winced with embarrassment over his forgetfulness. The welcome home party. Jane, I did forget.

Fine thing when a brother forgets his only sister’s homecoming.

It was an honest mistake. I have been exceptionally busy lately.

Running yourself ragged is more like it.

It can’t be helped I’m afraid, Henry replied. So many folks have been upset by Sam Jenkins betrayal and then that mysterious attack on Miss Brown…not to mention all the trouble the Masons started last summer.

Jane couldn’t deny Henry was right. Even she had felt shaken by all the tragedy of the past year. She’d supposed that since so much of it revolved around her own family, the consequences didn’t reach beyond her immediate circle. After all, it was her uncle who had been murdered by George Mason and her fiancé who had been threatened by George’s son, Thomas. Yet, those personal slights had been only a small part of the Masons’ nefarious designs on Copper Creek. The secret Jane and Henry still kept about the Masons’ reason for even coming to their town was a constant danger they dreaded might one day come to light. Perhaps it was some instinctual sense of that threat, combined with the shocking betrayal of trusted friends, which had been enough to rock the residents of Copper Creek to their core.

People are worried, Henry continued. They don’t know who to trust anymore and I can’t turn them away when they are in need of guidance and comfort. Can I?

No, Jane said softly, resigned to reform her selfish attitude. No, you can’t. I just wish you had someone to help you minister to them.

Only a few weeks more and I’ll have you, Henry reminded her. A minster’s wife can often be more effectual in tending to the needs of a congregation than the minister himself.

I hope you’re right.

Henry tilted Jane’s chin up so she would be forced to meet his gaze. I am, he assured her. You’ll see.

Jane smiled gently and closed her eyes. Undone by the sweetness of her expression, Henry leaned in and kissed her.

Aw! Not again! Mark groaned.

Jane and Henry stood apart.

I’m sorry you object, Henry told him. But I couldn’t help myself.

Jane and Henry continued to hold hands, as Mark stomped over to them. Spare me. Just hand over those sandwiches before I’m sick.

Henry chuckled and surrendered the basket to Mark who scurried back down the creek bank, well out of sight.

I guess I’d better be going too, Jane said, once Mark was gone. There’s still a lot of baking to do before tonight.

Right. I’ll see you then, after I meet Simon and Olivia at the stage.

Bring them straight to the house and remember, don’t say a word. It’s supposed to be a surprise.

My lips are sealed.

In which case…. Jane leaned in to kiss Henry goodbye.

He smiled when she drew back. Shameless, he uttered.

"I just couldn’t help myself, she echoed. Jane hurried back to her carriage then. See you tonight," she called from the driver’s seat. Henry waved and watched until she disappeared down the road.

*****

Jane’s cousin, Rachel Randolph, had missed her future mother-in-law more than she had expected. In the month since Olivia became Mrs. Simon Simms, Rachel often found herself wishing she could ride out to the Kohl’s cabin for some tea and a comforting word. Like Jane, Rachel had come to depend on Olivia’s friendship and counsel. Not only because she would soon wed Olivia’s son, Ben, but because Olivia was truly a rare sort of person. With an understanding heart, a gentle soul, and a strong character, Olivia had nursed Rachel through the worst months of her imposed separation from Ben. Though she still had her moments of impatience, Rachel could feel close to Ben and the new life they envisioned when she was in Olivia’s company. However, it wasn’t the usual longing for her intended that made Rachel excited at the prospect of Olivia’s return. The party tonight would be a chance to catch up with her friend and possibly uncover some secrets of newly wedded bliss; a subject foremost in Rachel’s mind of late.

She busied herself sweeping the Kohl’s cabin in Jane’s absence, amazed at the accumulation of dust in so short a span of time. Obviously, Reverend Kohl wasn’t much of a housekeeper, but Rachel wouldn’t hold that against him. He had other virtues far more important than cleanliness. Henry Kohl was a generous and forgiving man, much like his nephew.

It thrilled Rachel to think that in just two more weeks, Ben would be released from prison and free forever from his past as the Mason’s employee. She was happily contemplating the first thing she and Ben might do once he was home as she took her broom out to the front porch. She began to hum quietly, as she worked, until an unexpected voice broke her concentration.

Pardon me, the voice said.

Rachel spun around but failed to identify the young man standing opposite her. He appeared only a year or so older than herself, with sandy colored hair and gentle brown eyes. Yet, there was something in his stoic features that seemed familiar.

You wouldn’t be Olivia Kohl? he asked.

No. I’m Rachel Randolph.

As in Randolph’s General Mercantile?

That’s us, Rachel confirmed.

Oh. He pulled off his Stetson and slapped it against his thigh.

And you are?

Sorry. I’m Greg Riker.

Mark’s brother?

That’s me, he parroted. Mark’s seen to it that all of us Rikers are infamous around here.

Rachel smiled.

I was told he was with Reverend Kohl, Greg continued. My mother sent me out here to fetch him home.

He is with the reverend, Rachel confirmed. But I understand they went fishing early this morning. My cousin, Jane, went out to deliver their lunch awhile ago. Perhaps—

Greg held up his hand. I don’t want to bother you. I’m sure I can find them myself if you could just point me in the right direction.

I’m afraid I can’t, she admitted.

Greg rubbed his chin and replaced his hat. In that case I—

Won’t you sit down? Rachel suggested, gesturing to the bench beside the front door. Jane should be back any minute now and she could direct you.

I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.

Please do, Rachel said, putting aside the broom and sitting down on one end of the bench.

I’ve never seen you around before, Rachel commented. Don’t you come into town?

Not much, Greg admitted, slowly moving toward her. My brothers and I are kept pretty busy out on the ranch.

I understand your pa’s place is the biggest ranch around here.

That’s a fact, he replied, finally taking a seat. Of course, it took a lot of time and sweat to get it that way…if you’ll pardon my manner of speaking.

No need. I assure you. I’m well acquainted with all the implications of hard work.

I guess you would at that, what with your father’s store.

It’s been no small undertaking keeping it afloat since his death last year. But most of the credit for that goes to Jane. It’s only recently that mother and I have been any sort of help to her. I guess it’s about time we were though. Once she and the reverend are married next month, we’ll be on our own.

Do you work out here, too, for the reverend?

No. Jane and I were just tidying the place up in preparation for a surprise party we’re throwing tonight for the reverend’s sister.

It her birthday?

Rachel shook her head. She and her husband are coming home from their honeymoon.

Oh. I didn’t realize the reverend’s sister was married.

Just this February, Rachel confirmed. And then the happy couple set off for St. Louis, Chicago and points east.

Sounds like an exciting trip.

Have you ever been east? Rachel asked.

Don’t have much occasion to travel and I’m not sure I’d like to. You?

I’ve been to New Orleans. Though, it didn’t agree with me.

Rachel’s painful memories of her trip to George Mason’s home with her father last summer seemed like another lifetime. She hardly recognized that naive, selfish girl who had wanted to run away from home only to meet with deception and destruction in the big city.

At first, I was fascinated by how grand everything was, Rachel continued. But now I think I prefer the majesty of the countryside here to any other view.

I know what you mean, Greg replied. I feel a connection to the land every time I’m out on the prairie watching the stock, especially at sunset. Then the gold and russet light softens into the horizon until suddenly it blurs into a blanket of stars. Makes a man feel mighty small and yet, special too.

Rachel couldn’t help staring at him. She had never heard such honest passion expressed by anyone before and she was at a loss for words.

I didn’t mean to get carried away, he finished, misinterpreting her expression.

No. It was quite beautiful…almost poetic.

Naw….

You have a real gift for painting pictures with your words, Rachel insisted.

It’s nice of you to say. Fact is, I’ve always wanted to be a writer. But there isn’t much of a future in that sort of profession.

But writing doesn’t have to be your profession. It could just be a hobby.

I’m afraid that’s all it’ll ever be, Greg admitted. We need every pair of hands we can get out at the ranch. Speaking of which, I think I’d better go after Mark.

You sure you won’t wait for Jane?

Greg stood. I shouldn’t. Thanks.

He headed back down the steps. Rachel followed after him stopping at the top of the stairs.

It was nice to meet you, she said, watching him mount his horse.

Greg swung into the saddle and tapped the brim of his hat. Likewise, Miss Rachel.

Come into town, sometime. We’ve got some fine writing pads at the store you might find use for.

I might at that. So long.

Bye, Rachel returned. She remained on the porch, transfixed by an odd tug at her heartstrings, as she watched him ride away. He was still in sight, when she noticed Jane turning her buggy down the lane in front of him. They both stopped and appeared to exchange a few words before Greg tapped his hat again and rode off in the direction Jane had indicated.

Where did he come from? Jane asked Rachel, when she pulled up alongside the porch.

The Riker’s Ranch, apparently, Rachel replied. Did you tell him where to find his brother?

I did. Jane paused to assess the inscrutable look on her cousin’s face. "What did you tell him?"

Drawn out of her reverie, Rachel scowled. Oh, Jane. Don’t look at me like that.

Rachel, I know you. You aren’t going to start—

Flustered, Rachel bristled and cut off her cousin’s scolding. No, I’m not, Jane. Now, will you stop quizzing me? We’ve got a lot of work to do. She turned on her heel and hurried back inside with her broom, leaving Jane with no other recourse than to follow.

*****

The last few miles of Olivia’s honeymoon trip slipped away in a blur. More content than she could ever have imagined being, Olivia squeezed her husband’s hand and basked in the light of Simon’s smile as the stage rumbled towards Copper Creek.

You look mighty fine, Mrs. Simms, Simon told her. I’m bound to be the envy of every man in town.

Simon, Olivia admonished, secretly delighted by his praise.

Never a vain woman, Olivia’s looks hadn’t ever been a priority in her life. Yet, since passing her fortieth birthday, she had come to accept any claim to beauty she might have possessed had long since expired. But, if she could have seen herself at that moment, with her honey-blond hair swept softly up on her head and her warm, brown eyes