Copper Star Part 23

A shadow crossed her face.

"Ruth," I whispered, "come with us."

Her eyes hardened, and she glared at me. "You just don't understand, do you?" she whispered in an angry tone. "Robert never understood, either. Friedrich has promised me the world. Copper Springs holds nothing for me."

Oh Ruth, you're so wrong. It held everything for you.

I helped William into the car, got into the driver's seat, and looked back at her one more time before starting the engine. She was already gone.

I turned the key and pressed the gas pedal like I'd never done with Aunt Martha in the car, gunning the motor. The car roared down the steep driveway, past another sleeping guard. I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw him jump up, then stumble around in a state of complete confusion.

When I came to the end of Herr Mueller's long road, I felt a rising panic, unsure of which way to turn. I looked left and right but still had no idea which way to go. I knew the next few minutes were critical for our getaway.

Oh Lord, please help! Which way? I looked up through the bug-splotched windshield, scanning the inky black sky, and there it was, shimmering, a beacon. The copper star! I pressed the gas pedal to the floor and turned right. William looked over at me, eyes wide, clinging to the door handle so that he wouldn't slide around on the seat as I veered around sharp curves.

As the sun started to rise, I saw a sign for the border at Naco. I drove so fast the car practically flew through the custom gates. I wasn't going to stop until I was on United States' soil. Border patrolmen surrounded the car in alarm as I poured out the story of our kidnapping. It didn't take much to convince them; they had already been notified by the FBI to be on the look out for Friedrich Mueller and two kidnapped victims.

William and I were taken into the U.S. Customs Office. One agent offered, "Ma'am, would you like to call your husband and let him know you're both safe?"

My husband? The sound of that word amazed me. As I dialed Robert's office, an odd thought burst unbidden into my mind. It was the very first phone call I had made in America since the calls I used to make back in Germany, delivering messages of the Resistance. Not so very different.

Aunt Martha answered the phone. She began to get choked up when she heard my voice and realized we were both safe and unharmed. She said Robert had been out looking for us at Herr Mueller's mines with a group of men from the town and that there was a prayer vigil going on at the church. She said she would get word to Robert right away and let him know where to find us.

Finally, I started to relax. We were safe.

The Customs Agent pummeled me with questions before alerting the FBI, the FBI attache in Mexico City and the Mexican Police. I tried to give every possible detail that could help them locate Herr Mueller. I tried to give them directions to the villa, tried to recall every detail I could remember about the trip: old signs, odd landmarks, unusual trees. I knew Herr Mueller was slippery enough to get away; every pa.s.sing minute was crucial right now.

Someone was kind enough to get me a cup of coffee and a gla.s.s of milk with cookies for William, who finally fell asleep in my arms. A good sign, I hoped, but I had a nagging worry about how seeing his mother again had affected him.

At last, Robert appeared at the door. When I woke William, he saw his father's face and ran straight into his arms. Robert scooped him up and held him tightly, tears flowing freely. I held back, not wanting to intrude on this private moment, but Robert kept his eyes locked on me, holding one arm out to gather me in. William and I fit perfectly in the circle of his arms.

Chapter Fifteen.

There have been a few times in my life when a hot shower was worth a king's ransom. That's how it felt when I took a shower back at the parsonage in Copper Springs, washing off the gritty dirt of Mexico, the dried blood in my hair from the blow on the head from Herr Mueller's gun, and the anxiety of the last few days. Afterwards, Aunt Martha gently put some ointment on my raw, blistered wrists and ankles.

"More battle scars," I said, trying to keep my voice light.

Aunt Martha wiped the corner of her eye as a tear leaked out. Her tenderness always took me by surprise. It made such brief, infrequent appearances.

She had even made a temporary truce with Dog, letting him sleep in her room at night during our absence. "Well, what was I supposed to do? He was just so pathetic, missing William, hanging around me with that sad look on his face," she said in her defense. She made us a dinner of William's favorite food, hot dogs and baked beans, and graciously ignored Dog as William fed him sc.r.a.ps right from the table.

"Louisa!" Robert practically bolted out of his chair. "In all of the excitement, I nearly forgot to tell you! The last place anyone had seen Mueller was up at one of his mines. A group of us spent the last few days combing through it. We didn't find a trace of you or William, but you'll never guess who we did find."

"Glenda's nephew?"

His shoulders slumped in abject disappointment. "How on earth did you guess that?"

I explained how I had seen a boy there when we stopped at the mines.

"Curly bright red hair?"

I nodded.

"Hard to miss. Anyway, he's back with Glenda now, over at Betty's." He scrunched up his face. "I don't know how you know so much."

"Nice work, Reverend." I smiled at him, but when our eyes met, my cheeks started burning. How ridiculous! I've been eating across the table from this man for over a year now. Why was I suddenly self-conscious? What had changed?

Everything.

Hoping Aunt Martha wouldn't notice my silly schoolgirl blush, I quickly reached over to pick up William's napkin off the floor before Dog scooped it up. Tucking it under his chin, my concern over him grew. True, we were both weary past endurance, but it was more than that. The sadness he had shed had returned.

I knew why. Seeing his mother brought his grief right up to the surface again.

I dreaded one final thing left to do. I hadn't told Robert about Ruth yet; I was waiting until we might have a moment alone. I thought William might bring her up at dinner, but since he hadn't, I didn't either. Truth to be told, I was postponing the conversation until it was inevitable.

That moment arrived too soon. A knock came at the door, and Robert answered it as I was upstairs tucking William into bed. He fell asleep quickly; I, too, couldn't wait to get to bed.

Robert met me on the stairs as I was coming down to say goodnight. "Louisa, there's someone here to see you." I followed him into the parlor. "This is Agent Gullberg with the FBI. He has some news."

"Ma'am, how are you?" The agent looked at me with concern in his eyes.

"Better now. Thank you," I answered.

"We need to talk to you tomorrow, but tonight I just wanted you to know that we found Mueller's house. Your directions were good, ma'am. Your paper trail tipped us off. That was right smart thinking."

I gasped. "Did you capture Herr Mueller?"

He shook his head in disappointment. "No, I'm sorry to say we didn't. He had cleared out a few hours earlier, and the house was near emptied. Quite a place, too. A regular Caesar's Palace. There wasn't a single living soul in that house. Looked like everyone scattered: servants, guards, everyone. All of the border patrols have been notified. Don't you worry, ma'am. We'll catch him."

I frowned. "I don't think he could cross on land. I think he would try to leave by ship. I thought I heard one of the servants mention the Mar de Cortes." The Gulf of California. Then something the agent said triggered a horrible thought. "Did you say there wasn't a single living person in the house?"

"Yes, ma'am. I did. There was just one dead body. A woman. She had been shot straight through the heart. One clean shot. We still haven't identified her, but we're pretty sure she's an American. That's the reason I came by tonight. I wondered if you might have any idea who she was."

Instantly, I knew.

I was sure the body belonged to Ruth. She had betrayed Herr Mueller by letting us escape, He had found out and killed her for it.

I looked over at Robert. I realized the gravity of the significance that this information, once revealed, would hold for him. And the fresh pain it would bring. But I had no choice.

"Please excuse me for a moment." I went upstairs to William's room, tiptoed in, and listened to the steady breathing of his deep sleep. I took the picture of Ruth that was by his bedside and tiptoed back out. I went downstairs, back to the parlor. I took a deep breath, pulled the picture frame out from behind my back, and showed it to the agent. "Could this be her?"

Recognition dawned on his face. "Yes! Yes, that's her! Who is she?"

I looked over at Robert. I felt such sorrow for him. What was his expression? Confusion? Anguish? Pain? His jaw was clenched, letting the shock sink in.

I turned to the agent. "Her name is Ruth Gordon. She used to live in Copper Springs. She had run off with Herr Mueller almost two years ago and had been living at his villa in Mexico." I glanced at Robert. "She came to the room where Herr Mueller had kept me hostage. She said she wanted to meet me. William was hiding under the bed, but as Ruth and I talked, he poked his head out and saw her."

I paused and flashed a worried look at Robert before continuing. All color had drained from his face. "Later that same night, she came back and helped us escape. She had a car waiting for me and handed me the keys. I am quite sure that Herr Mueller found out what she had done and killed her for it." There. It was said. Almost all of it.

"Mind if I take this picture for now? To identify the body?" the agent asked.

I nodded.

He looked at Robert and then back at me. He lowered his voice and said, "So if her last name was Gordon, was she somehow related to the Reverend?"

"Yes. She was his wife and the mother of the little boy who was with me."

He scratched his head. "But I thought you were his wife."

"Well, yes, well, it's a long story," I answered, hoping he wouldn't ask any more questions.

Robert just sat on the davenport, his head bowed down, chin on his chest. The only sign of the impact of what he had just heard was how he was gripped his hands tightly together, as if they kept him in one piece.

After saying goodbye to the agent, I closed the door behind him and saw Aunt Martha had been listening from the kitchen. She looked at me, shook her head in sadness and disbelief, and walked up the stairs like an old woman.

I sat down beside Robert. "I was planning to tell you about Ruth tomorrow," I started. "I'm sorry." I waited a moment and softly said, "Is there anything you want to know?"

Robert shook his head as if he didn't want to hear anything more. I just sat there next to him, not saying a word.

Finally, he glanced at me sideways, his pain stark and raw, and asked in a low and gravelly voice, "is there anything more I should know?"

I told him everything. He leaned over, holding his head in his hands. I told him about the conversation Ruth and I had in my room. I felt I needed to tell him every ounce of truth, even the part I dreaded the most: As we were leaving, William had asked Ruth to come home. I told him that I asked her to return with us and that she had refused.

Then Robert stood up and glared at me, eyes blazing. "How could you even ask her that? How dare you! You had no right!"

"She saved our lives, Robert. She saved us because of William. And that choice cost her dearly. She lost her life because of helping us to escape. I'm sure of that."

The truth was I don't really know why I asked her to return with us. It was almost as if the Holy Spirit said it through me. Only G.o.d could be so willing to offer Ruth one more chance to make things right, one more opportunity to make a fresh start. I knew it wasn't from me.

Abruptly, Robert walked to the door. "I need to be alone for a while." His face held such anguish; I felt as if I had just poked a raw wound.

I watched him back the car out of the driveway and drive down the street. Then the frantic anxiety of the last few days started to seep away, leaving me with a deep physical exhaustion.

Aunt Martha let me sleep late the next day. When I woke, I went downstairs and found a kitchen table laden with food. Cookies and pies, cakes, and jars of homemade jam and preserves.

"What's all this?" I asked her.

"Folks have been bringing food by all morning long. They've been worried about you and William. About Robert, too."

So was I. "Did he come home at all last night?" I glanced out the kitchen window to see if the Hudson was in the driveway. It wasn't.

She shook her head. She looked terribly tired.

"Please don't worry, Aunt Martha. He'll be all right. He just needs a little time." I tried to sound convincing.

I looked for William but found Dog, sitting patiently, below the tree house. I even think he was worried, if dogs did worry. I climbed up into the tree house and spotted William, playing with his toy trucks. "Want to work on a lesson?" I asked him.

He shook his head.

"Want to play catch with Dog?"

Again, he shook his head. He just kept moving his toy trucks around, re-organizing them, checking over their wheels.

Oh Lord, please help this fragile home.

Dog and I walked over to the church office, but there was no sign of Robert.

After lunch, Judge Pryor stopped by the house to see me. "Well, Louisa, looks as if you and Robert stumbled onto something mighty big. This is going to put Copper Springs on the map."

"Do you have any idea yet how much money Herr Mueller stole?" I asked.

He stalled.

"Oh no. Is it worse than we thought?"

"We're just starting to find out," he answered. "There are more FBI agents coming to town, all the way from Los Angeles. It looks as if he has cleaned everyone out. Looted all of our a.s.sets. Most folks don't even know how much they've lost yet."

After filling him in on Ruth's involvement with Herr Mueller, I confided, "Robert left yesterday and hasn't been back yet."

"Don't you worry, sugar. He'll be back when he's ready. He's just needs to sort it all out. He knows what he has waiting for him here."

I hoped he was right.

Agent Gullberg came back in the afternoon; we went over every detail I could remember so that he could fill out more reports. At the end of the interview, he handed me back William's picture frame of Ruth and asked me what should be done with her body.

"Pardon? I don't quite understand what you mean."

"We need a place to send it for burial."

I looked back at Aunt Martha who was listening to us from the kitchen. She shrugged, as if she didn't know what to do, either. So I made a decision. "We should bury her here, then, in Copper Springs."

"Fine. I'll have someone get back in touch with you when the body is ready to be delivered. Thank you, ma'am."

I wasn't sure Robert would approve of that decision, but he wasn't around when it had to be made. No matter what, that woman was William's mother.

Aunt Martha and I tried to keep up light chitchat, talking about the different foods people had brought by. We had an early supper. William's eyes stayed glued to his plate. It made me understand why the doctor thought he might be r.e.t.a.r.ded; his sadness covered him like a blanket.

Suddenly, I realized one other place where Robert might have gone. Of course! "Aunt Martha, I know where Robert is! Do you think Rosita would let me borrow her truck?"

Her eyes grew large. That thought seemed to alarm her. "I suppose so," she said, apprehension in her voice. I kissed William on the top of his head and ran down the street to Rosita's house to ask her for the truck keys. She looked reluctant, mortified almost, until I explained where I was going and why.