Chapter 4
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Deputy Hardy returned to the cellblock, pencil and notepad in hand. "So, who do you want me to contact?"
"Reverend Timothy Johnson in Colorado Springs."
Andrew's first instinct had been to contact Matthew Cooper, his companion for breakfast that morning. As a lawman, Matthew would best know how to help him out of this predicament. But the bounty hunters had implied that the young sheriff was under his thumb, so the optics of contacting him directly wouldn't look good. Thus, Andrew went with his second choice - the most upstanding person he could think of. The clergyman lived in town and would be able to contact Matthew easily.
"A preacher to confess your sins to? We got one here in Denver."
"No, not to confess. Please tell him that Andrew Cook is in jail in Denver, accused of fraud, but that it's a case of mistaken identity. And to send help as soon as he is able."
"Do you wanna ask for a lawyer?"
Andrew frowned. "The town doesn't have a lawyer. Do you have a list of lawyers in Denver?"
"The public defender stops by once a day to see who's new. If you don't get on with him, he can steer you to someone else."
"Thank you." Andrew's stomach rumbled again. All he'd had to eat that afternoon was the lone stick of dried beef. "What time is supper?"
Hardy glanced at the clock on the wall, which read four-oh-five. "Another two hours. It's not the Denver Grand, but it's decent."
"Listen, can you tell me more about this man you accuse me of being?"
The deputy shook his head. "I'll give you this much. You're persistent. I'll send your message."
And with that, Hardy left again.
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The Reverend and Horace rushed into Bray's Mercantile, closely followed by Preston, who had seen the two men hurry past the bank and went to follow. The store was filled with people waiting to hear any news about their missing doctor.
"It's a telegram from Andrew!" the pastor announced. "He says he's in jail in Denver."
"Jail?" repeated Preston, blanching.
"What for?" asked Grace.
"It says he was arrested for fraud but that they've got the wrong man."
"Well, that's obvious," said Loren. "It say anything else?"
"Only to send help."
"Well of course we'll help him," said Dorothy. "Question is, how?"
"I don't know how he expects any of us to help him," said Preston. "This town doesn't even have a lawyer."
"Matthew will know how to help," said Horace, ignoring Preston.
"Is the search party back yet?" asked Reverend Johnson, thinking Matthew, Hank, Robert E. and Jake might have gone to clean up.
"No, they're still out lookin'," said Grace.
"Then we'll just have to wait for their return."
"I promised Colleen we'd let her know when we heard somethin'," said Dorothy before leaving the store to head to the clinic. She covered the short distance and saw the door open.
"Colleen."
"Miss Dorothy, did they find Andrew?" Colleen asked anxiously.
"No, but we heard from him. He sent a telegram from Denver."
"Denver? Why is he in Denver?"
"I'm afraid he's in jail."
"What? Why?"
"Something about fraud, which doesn't make any sense. Right now, we have more questions than answers. We're waitin' for Matthew to get back to talk to him about it, find out what we should do. But at least we know he's safe."
Colleen nodded. The older woman was right, the important thing was that Andrew was safe and not out in the woods somewhere with kidnappers.
"Don't worry, Colleen, I'm sure everythin' will get straightened out."
Dorothy left, leaving Colleen alone with her thoughts again. Andrew was in trouble, but least she could breathe a little easier, knowing where he was. She turned, and immediately spied his medical bag, undisturbed from where he had left it on the desk. Colleen placed a hand upon it, hoping it would be reunited with its owner very soon.
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At six o'clock, supper was served at the Denver jail. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, peas, a biscuit, and a cup of water to wash it down. As hungry as he was, Andrew savored every bite.
Hardy had another item for Andrew along with his supper. "Here," he said, sliding a paper through the bars. "Your friends are coming in the morning."
"In the morning?" Andrew repeated in dismay, looking at the telegram.
"I'll be back in a few to get your plate." He then stepped over to the other prisoner. "You good, Lloyd?"
"Fine vittles you serve here, deputy," said Lloyd. "My compliments to the chef."
"Sometimes I think you steal things on purpose just for the free meal," came the reply before Hardy left the two men to eat.
Andrew turned to his companion. "Is that what you're here for, robbery?"
"Robbery? You need a gang for a robbery. You see a gang here, pretty boy? I prefer to think of it as liberatin' people from their assets."
"A pick pocket, then. Or burglar."
"Not just a pretty face I see. He's got brains, too," Lloyd teased. "What's your name, pretty boy?"
"Andrew Cook. Doctor Andrew Cook," said Andrew, emphasizing his title and confirming that yes, he was educated.
"Dr. Cook, huh? Because you cook up your schemes? That's a good one," said Lloyd, smiling at his own joke.
Andrew shook his head. "No, because I really am a physician. If you broke your arm or injured any other part of your body, I'd be able to fix it. Well, perhaps not in a jail cell. But in a clinic or hospital, I'd be able to."
"No kiddin'?"
"It's the truth. This matter about committing fraud… it's all a huge misunderstanding."
Lloyd was silent a moment, then broke into another grin. "Oh, the judge is going to love that whopper!"
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That evening at the Sully homestead, Matthew brought the family up to date over supper. "The Reverend and me will take the first train out tomorrow."
"But why would anyone arrest Andrew for fraud?" asked Michaela. "He's a legitimate doctor."
"My guess is he wasn't arrested for that. They probably think he's that con man who was here, Randolph Cummings."
"The one who swindled folks out of their money?" asked Sully.
"Well, they do look alike."
"But Andrew was in Boston when that happened," Brian protested.
"We know that, Brian, but other folks don't," Matthew explained to his little brother. "The trouble will be proving to a jury that Andrew's not Cummings. Unless they're standing side-by-side, there's no real proof that they're two different people."
"What about his degree from Harvard?" asked Sully. "That outta count for somethin'."
"We'll ask Andrew if we can go through his things and get his diploma. His lawyer can enter it as evidence. But even with that, I think testimony will be his best bet. People who can vouch for him. Like his folks."
"I'd certainly be willing to testify on Andrew's behalf," said Michaela.
"If the trial was here in town, sure," agreed Sully. "But Michaela, you can't nurse Katie on the train." The single passenger car between Colorado Springs and Denver held general seating, precluding privacy. "Could the trial be held here?" he asked Matthew.
"A change of venue? I doubt it. Cummings conned several towns out of money. They'll all want their say, and Denver's convenient."
"Convenient for them, perhaps," commented Michaela, showing her frustration.
"Don't worry, Dr. Mike. We'll get Andrew out of this mess."
"But what if we can't?" Brian asked worriedly. "What if they don't believe he didn't do it?"
No one wanted to answer that question.
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