Miss Katie's Rosewood Read Online Free PDF Page B

thoughts were plain enough to read on his face, that he didn’t think much of the so-called witness’s credibility.
    â€œAnd when time for a trial comes,” Robert added, “I can guarantee you, there will be a dozen or more eyewitnesses who will agree with me. I saw him, Mr. Heyes. I was there. I tell you, Damon Teague is at the camp outside of town right now. He’s a sergeant in the Confederate Army and is the same man who visited our church four years ago, and he isthe man who shot my sister. If you don’t do something about it, I will.”
    The detective saw that the young man was not going to be dissuaded.
    â€œAll right,” Heyes finally agreed. “I’ll talk to my superiors.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œWhen I can.”
    Unconvinced, the minister’s son hurried from the room in obvious frustration.
    Heyes watched him go, then realized he could have a mess on his hands if the kid ran into the camp and started shouting accusations. He’d better follow him and make sure there was no trouble.
    But by the time Detective Heyes and several of his men reached the camp, the ruckus they had hoped to avoid had already begun.
    When the minister’s son next walked into the Confederate camp, he was carrying no sketch pad or pencils, though he still wore the large overcoat that had also been his trademark during the past week.
    His stride was purposeful for a seventeen-year-old. A gleam of determination shone in his eye. Two weeks ago his heart had been set on entering the ministry. But for nearly all of the previous sleepless night he had been asking himself if he was prepared to kill, to take another human life. The consequences to his own life and future were not ones he could think clearly about right now. He only knew what he had to do—bring his sister’s killer to justice . . . one way or another. Who could tell what the man might do in the future if not brought to justice? What if he killed again? Robert had not analyzed his own motives deeply enough to distinguish between vengeance and justice in his own heart. That was a quandary whose resolution would have to wait. At thismoment he was acting on impulse, emotion, grief, and perhaps more human vindictiveness toward the sinner rather than righteous indignation toward the sin than he would have been capable of recognizing. He was also little aware of the danger to himself.
    The captain saw him walking through the camp and knew immediately from the expression on his face that something had changed.
    â€œHey there, son . . . just a minute,” he called after him. “I want to talk to you. I have a few questions.”
    But Robert continued on. The captain followed, quickening his pace. He was just in time to see the boy walk straight into the tent of one of his sergeants and several of his men.
    â€œSergeant Teague,” said Robert.
    The man glanced up from his bunk. The heads of two or three others in the tent also turned toward the intruder.
    â€œGet up!” demanded Robert.
    â€œWhat?” said the sergeant in annoyance.
    â€œI said get up.”
    Damon Teague was not the kind of man who took kindly to being ordered about by a boy half his age. His annoyance instantly turned to anger.
    â€œLook, kid, I don’t know who you are, but unless you—”
    The boy reached into his pocket.
    Teague stopped in midsentence. Suddenly he found himself staring into the barrel of a Colt 45.
    â€œGet up,” repeated the boy. “You’re under arrest.”
    â€œFor what?” Teague shot back. His temporary shock at the sight of the gun subsided as quickly as it had silenced him. He was not one easily intimidated, though he warily kept his eye on the boy’s finger. “Get out of here!” he said.
    â€œI said you’re under arrest,” said Robert again. “For murder. Now get up!”
    Teague glanced around at the other men, then broke out in laughter.
    Just then