Part 21 (1/2)

”I do.”

Robert and Judge Pryor exchanged looks.

”You're probably right,” Robert sighed. He looked at the judge. ”She's always right.”

I leaned back on the davenport. It made me heartsick to think Herr Mueller was aiding the n.a.z.is, sending valuable minerals from America's land, her heart, right back to the enemy she was fighting. I put my hand to my forehead and closed my eyes. ”I am so sorry.”

”Don't you be sorry, Louisa. Mueller's been stopped. That's all that's important. He might have continued this thievery for years; we were certainly fools enough to let him.” Judge Pryor shook his head in disgust and left to go to the telegraph office.

I ran upstairs to get Herr Mueller's ring and put it in my pocket.

When Robert and I arrived at the telegraph office, we found Ernest and the judge pouring over the ledger. The judge looked up and saw Robert. ”Mueller wires money regularly to a bank account in Switzerland. He's been doing it for years.”

”Judge, he told me he had a sick father who needed the support,” Ernest rushed to say. ”I never thought another thing about it. It's not my job to get into people's business. You know that, Judge. I took an oath of office.”

”I know, I know all about your oath, Ernest. Now keep adding up those figures.”

”Let's see. Here's one from last summer. He wired $1,325.”

One thousand dollars, three hundred, and twenty-five dollars. Mrs. Drummond's money. Sent covertly to the n.a.z.is. I felt as if I might be ill. I sat down in a chair and put my head in my hands. Thankfully, no one noticed; they were leaning over the counter, examining the ledger, trying to connect all of the dots of Herr Mueller's operation. I went outside to get fresh air, leaning against the building and breathing deeply.

Down the street, I spied Robert's church. I knew I had to get inside and soak up the quiet. I didn't even know how to pray about all of this. My thoughts were so jumbled; so much had happened in scarcely a few days' time.

I went into Robert's office to find his Bible, turned on the desk light, and sat at his desk. His Bible was right on top. I picked it up, anxiously thumbing through it, looking for something to help console me, landing on Proverbs 3:25, 26: ”Be not afraid of sudden fear, neither of the desolation of the wicked, when it cometh. For the Lord shall be thy confidence, and shall keep thy foot from being taken.”

Comforted, I smiled. The Lord shall be my confidence. I took a deep breath and started to feel calmer.

I heard a door open to the sanctuary. ”Robert? I'm in here,” I called out.

But there was no answer.

A chill went up my spine. Intuitively, I sensed who was in the church. I took the chunky ring from my pocket and placed it in Robert's Bible, closed it and put it on his chair just as Herr Mueller walked into the office. He locked the door leading to the sanctuary behind him. I stood behind the desk, ready to face him, as boldness from some deep place welled up within me.

”Frau Gordon. May I congratulate you on your nuptials? What a clever trick. I wouldn't have thought it possible for the pious Reverend to lie in a vow before G.o.d.”

”You sent that INS officer, didn't you, Herr Mueller? And you've been sending money from the people in this town to Berlin to support the n.a.z.is, haven't you?”

A shadow crossed his face. Encouraged, I decided to take the offensive and keep going. ”Robert and Judge Pryor are over at the telegraph office right now, adding up the money you've wired to a bank in Switzerland. Money that belongs to the people in this town. You've been found out. It's over, Herr Mueller.” Slowly, I started moving toward the door.

”Oh, no, it isn't, Frulein.” His face twisted into a wicked grin. ”You are my most valuable commodity now. You're coming with me.” He came around the desk to grab me as I turned and kicked him hard in the s.h.i.+n. He leaned over in pain as I tried to slip past him. He was doubled over, clutching his s.h.i.+n. I reached a hand out to the door that led outside, only to feel a sharp blow strike the back of my head.

I had the strangest thought before everything went dark: Ruth left her wedding ring on Robert's pillow so he would know she left. I left Herr Mueller's ring for him so that he would know to find me.

Chapter Thirteen.

I had no idea how much time elapsed between the confrontation with Herr Mueller in the church and the point when I regained consciousness. The back of my head had a swelling knot; blood trickled down my neck. My hands and my feet were bound with rope.

Where was I? In the back of a filthy truck. Gingerly, I sat up. There were boxes and sacks scattered everywhere. I wiggled over to the back opening of the truck. I peeked out the opening and saw Herr Mueller, at the front of a mine, talking to a miner, his arms waving and pointing as if giving directions.

I noticed a boy trudging out of the mines. I only spotted him because he had a shock of bright red hair. The miner called the boy over and pointed to another truck. Wearily, the boy climbed onto the back of the truck and waited, legs swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

I tried to get the ropes off of my hands; I was going to have to work quickly to escape out the back of the truck while Herr Mueller was preoccupied. Just then I heard Herr Mueller's voice yell out as he walked back to the truck. ”Carter! I want that ore delivered today! No excuses!”

I whipped my head around and looked at the man Herr Mueller called Carter and then at that forlorn boy. Curly red hair like that wasn't very common. It was as loud as a trumpet. Glenda's nephew! I was sure of it.

Herr Mueller walked to the truck. I wiggled to where I had been laying so he wouldn't think I had regained consciousness. He glanced quickly at me in the back of the truck, then walked around to the driver's seat and climbed in. He started the truck, backed it up, and headed down the b.u.mpy, dirt road leading from the mine to the highway.

I wondered which way he would drive when he hit the highway. I hoped it might be north to Copper Springs, but I doubted it would be so. He turned south, just like that convoy I had seen one night when I first arrived in Copper Springs, when Robert and I returned from visiting Mrs. Drummond. Toward Mexico.

Think, Louisa, think.

I knew my chance for escape was better now than it would be in Mexico. Copper Springs was only a few miles from the border town of Naco in the Mexican state of Sonora. I hoped to get the attention of the border guards when we stopped, but Herr Mueller either knew them well or had paid them off. Or both. He didn't even stop the truck; the border guards waved him through. Herr Mueller sped through the border so quickly that I didn't have any opportunity to be seen. My heart sank as I watched the United States recede from the b.u.mpy view out the back of the truck.

I settled back, leaning against the truck's side, resigning myself to the realization that I was going to be stuck for a while. I weighed my options and tried to review the skills I'd been taught in the Resistance.

Rule number one: Try to escape. Herr Mueller was driving so fast I dare not try to jump out the back; I doubted I would survive the fall on such steeply curving, rocky roads. My best chance for escape was to get the ropes untied, so I concentrated on trying to loosen them. They were so tight they were making rope burns on my wrists as I wiggled my fingers.

My feet felt numb. I tried to wiggle over to one of the sacks to see what was inside. It took a few minutes, but finally I was able to open one up. Inside the sack were money, papers, valuable coins, jewelry, and countless other personal treasures.

With my hands tied together, I pulled out one of the papers. It was a stock certificate for a company called International Business Machines made out to Edward and Isabel Pryor. Judge Pryor!

I looked through more sacks. They were filled with a.s.sets stolen from the bank's safety deposit boxes. Besides stock certificates, war bonds, and cash, there were marriage and birth certificates, charm bracelets, rings, gold coins, Confederate money, even baby teeth. Treasures of the town. The sacks were so hastily bundled together that I deduced Mueller must have just recently started looting the bank. But that also meant he wasn't planning to return to Copper Springs.

Just then, one of the sacks moved.

I froze.

A little sandy haired boy popped his head out of the sack and grinned sheepishly at me. William! I almost said his name but quickly caught myself. I showed my bound hands to him, and he scrambled out of the sack to help me untie the ropes. As soon as my hands were freed, I worked on my feet. After a quick hug, I pulled away to look at him carefully. ”How did you find me?”

”See Bad Man. See you. Go find Girl.”

William must have seen Herr Mueller put me in the back of his truck and somehow climbed in, unnoticed.

I still had to reduce what I wanted to tell William to the bare essentials. I tried not to show it, but I was terribly worried to see him. I knew Robert would be frantic. I needed to warn William.

”Hide from Bad Man. Stay in truck,” I said to him. What I wanted to tell him was: ”William, I don't know where we're going. I don't want Herr Mueller to see you. He may try to hurt you. Stay in the truck as long as you can and try to find me. We're going to escape when we get a chance.” I wasn't sure how long I could keep William safe, but seeing him only resolved my determination: I was not going to let Herr Mueller win this battle.

Herr Mueller careened off the b.u.mpy main road and on to a single lane dirt road. Another worry. How could Robert find us if we were heading into a remote area?

Think fast, Louisa.

I looked at the sacks and grabbed one. If I could leave a paper trail, perhaps it might alert someone to Herr Mueller's hideaway. I tried to get only identifying papers, not cash or coins. I leaned out of the truck and dropped the papers low toward the road, so they wouldn't fly up and broadcast to Herr Mueller what I was doing. Herr Mueller was speeding so quickly that I had to use one hand to hang on to the truck's side, leaning over the back.

In scarcely a few hours' time, we arrived at what seemed to be an oasis in the midst of a desert. A Mexican guard stopped the truck, apparently not accustomed to seeing Herr Mueller drive a truck. Herr Mueller barked at him, and the guard bowed respectfully and let him drive up the long driveway, lined with palm trees, to a palatial Spanish house.

I quickly motioned to William to get back in the sack, and I re-tied my hands and feet. Herr Mueller stopped the truck at the top of the hill crowned by a large gurgling fountain in front of the house. Deep fuchsia-colored bougainvillea climbed the walls of the grand house's stucco exterior.