A Dream of Daring by Gen LaGreca Page A

comfort he needed. A copy of
the state and local statutes on top of a trunk filled with legal papers
composed his library. Sheriff Robert Duran sat at his desk in shirtsleeves,
writing notes about the case that consumed him. Out the front window, he could
see the main street of the town he protected. Out the back window, away from
public view, he could see the means by which he protected it—the brick jail and
the courtyard with the scaffold in the corner, ready for use when needed.
    His eyes drifted to the
jail, where his uncle Ted Cooper stood at the barred window of his second-floor
cell. The prisoner seemed to be staring across the courtyard between them,
directly into his office—and into his eyes. Could his uncle really see him at
that distance, he wondered, or was it his imagination? He lowered his head to
his notes, avoiding the window.
    It was the second morning
since he had been called to the murder scene at the Crossroads. He glanced at
his pocket watch. The men he had asked to come to his office to discuss the
Barnwell case should be arriving soon. The overseer, Bret Markham, and the
plantation’s slaves had said they knew nothing about the invention in the old
carriage house or the crime committed there. They had seen guests attending the
funeral, but nothing that looked suspicious. The sheriff was unaware of anyone
having contact with the invention, aside from the three men to whom Tom had
shown it: the senator, Cooper, and Nash Nottingham.
    Duran had questioned Tom,
who said he was alone in his room, writing, after the senator and Cooper had
retired for the night. One servant said he’d brought logs, and another had
taken tea to Tom’s room late that night, corroborating his whereabouts. Although
a slave’s testimony had no legal standing in a case against a white man, the
sheriff had no reason to doubt what he’d heard.
    Yesterday he had visited
the Nottingham plantation, where he spoke to Nash and his mother. They both
seemed genuinely shocked to learn of the senator’s death. Nash explained that
after Polly Barnwell’s funeral, he’d left the Crossroads to have supper and
spend the night at his own plantation. Mrs. Nottingham confirmed that her son
had been at home with her the entire evening; she’d retired early and seen her
son before going to bed and again in the morning at breakfast.
    Also yesterday, the
sheriff had visited Ruby Manor, where he found Tom, who had already broken the
news to Barnwell’s wife and daughter. The sheriff had learned that Charlotte
and Rachel Barnwell knew about Tom’s invention and its whereabouts at the
Crossroads, but they couldn’t conceive of anyone who’d have a motive to commit
the horrible crime. After Polly’s funeral, they had returned home, where they
had spent the evening in the company of neighbors until past midnight. When he
left Ruby Manor, the sheriff dropped in on those neighbors, who verified the
story.
    Duran uncovered no loose
ends and no conceivable suspect for the crime other than his uncle, who had been
found standing over the body. Nevertheless, he had called Tom Edmunton, Bret
Markham, and Nash Nottingham to his office that day. The inventor and the
overseer were at the Crossroads at the time of the murder, and Nottingham was
the only other man besides the inventor, the deceased, and the suspect who knew
the nature of the device in the old carriage house. Duran had spoken to each of
the men separately. Now he wanted to question them together to see if he could
learn anything more.
    He saw the first of his
visitors coming up the front steps to his office and rose to put on his vest.
Pinned to it was the silver badge he kept polished and wore proudly. His eyes
paused on the emblem on the badge, a replica of a blindfolded goddess holding
the scales of justice. He had always thought of her cause as his also. He
glanced up at the man in the cell window whose eyes haunted him, the man he
loved and couldn’t believe guilty. He silently vowed