He rushed off without another word.
Eliza slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper. Dated more than ten days ago.
Someone spreading rumors. Accused you of stealing fossils and donor money. Called Mr. Schmitt for help. Sarah
What!? Who would do such a thing? Sweat broke out across her back, making her shirt stick to her. Where was a cool breeze when she needed one? Fanning herself with the envelope and paper, she tried to calm her breathing. What did Mr. Carnegie think? Would he believe it? She hadn’t heard anything from him in a while. Her stomach plummeted. Oh, this was terrible. And she wasn’t even there to defend herself? What was she supposed to do?
Taking a deep breath, she paced. She had to think this through.
What were her options?
If she rushed back, would they believe her? Or would trying to defend herself simply make them think she was more guilty? Especially in light of the horrible article by the imposter. Would that previous article make people assume shewasguilty?
A woman in this day and age didn’t exactly have the same clout as a man. No matter what her last name was.
At least Sarah had called Devin. She hated dragging him into something else, but he would defend her. In her heart, she knew he would. But he hadn’t said a word about it either. Why?
She tapped the envelope against her hand as she continued to stomp her frustrations out into the desert-like terrain.
Deborah had gone off in search of the outhouse near the cattle shed, which meant Eliza could growl out her frustrations to the sky without being heard.
She marched through the grass, mumbling under her breath. There had to be something—anything—she could do.
But Pittsburgh was a world away.
She had no idea who her accuser was.
And she had no control. No idea what was happening. No solution whatsoever.
Wadding up the telegram, she released a scream to the sky. When that didn’t help, she stomped around some more.Why, God? Why?
Eliza buried her face in her hands, trying to stem the tears. Again. But an ominous click made her freeze in her tracks.
Was that... a gun?
“Turn around slowly, Miss Mills, and your friend won’t get hurt.”
nineteen
“Bitterness and despair rolled away and left me happy again.”
~Earl Douglass
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST16, 1916•CARNEGIEINSTITUTE
Was it normal for giddiness to last this long? He didn’t know and he didn’t care. The article had accomplished everything he intended it to do.
People were looking at him differently now. Asking his opinion. Seeking him out for direction with various displays at the museum. It was only a matter of time before Mr. Carnegie visited him and they could sit down and renegotiate his contract. Even the great steel magnate should be able to see he’d be a fool to let him go now. Not without destroying the reputation of his beloved museum.
He picked up the newspaper outside his office and tucked it under his arm. With a few clicks, he unlocked the massive wooden door and strolled to his desk. In short order, the rough draft of his new paper on the profitability and sustainability of natural history museums and their contributions to the well-being of American culture was spread on his desk.
If he was to truly make his mark in paleontology, he had to show that their science had to be a money-making enterprise. Now that they knew the plains and mountains out West were rife with fossils, it was time to start capitalizing on their vast monetary value.
Pulling up his chair, he frowned. Where was his fountain pen? Shuffling papers and peeking under folders, he searched and searched. Picking up the newspaper, he spotted it beneath...
He froze.
What did that headline say?
