Truth Be Told Read Free Page A

it bother you, Homer. A visit from Great Western is enough to upset anyone.”
    Homer nodded his thanks. “I’ll go get supper started and do some more work on that piece about the two-headed calf that was born out at the Grinstead farm.”
    â€œBrood of vipers,” her father muttered when Homer had gone.
    â€œWho? The people at Great Western?” Amelia sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand in hers. “It’s a new company in town, isn’t it? I don’t remember hearing that name before. But we don’t need to talk about them if it’s going to upset you.”
    He shook his head. “Probably just as well. Might help get some of it out of my system. They’re unhappy about a couple of stories I’ve written about their intention to start hydraulic mining in the area.”
    Amelia tightened her grip on his hand. “That man said he wanted to talk to you about some articles.”
    Her father grunted. “They’ve asked me not to print any more like that, warning the people of the impact it will have. In fact, they want me to print a retraction.”
    â€œA retraction ?” Amelia sprang to her feet. “Why would they ask for that, unless what you printed wasn’t true? And I know you too well for that.”
    One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Thank you, my dear. That’s why I chose John 8:32 for the Gazette ’s motto.”
    â€œâ€˜Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.’” Amelia quoted from memory, her eyes misting when she thought of the words that had appeared on the Gazette ’s masthead for as long as she could remember.
    Her father nodded. “That’s what we print, Amelia. It’s what I’ve always stood by, and what I hope this newspaper will always stand for.”
    â€œThat’s what Clayton Sloan says he admires most about you—your dedication to print the truth, no matter the cost. It’s what sets you apart from many other newspaper publishers.”
    The tight lines of her father’s face softened into a smile. “How is Clay? He’s been a good friend, letting you help out at the Denver Journal from time to time.”
    â€œHe’s doing well. So is the paper. In fact, he’s let me write several stories lately. Nothing earth-shaking, but at least I’m getting to put the lessons I learned from you into practice. Iwouldn’t want to let my writing skills get rusty between my trips to Arizona.”
    A chuckle shook her father’s shoulders. “I can imagine how your mother must feel about you working for a newspaper—even on a casual basis. How is she, by the way?”
    Amelia flinched at the change of subject. “Mother is . . . doing well.” She tried to keep her tone neutral. From her father’s expression, she knew she had failed.
    â€œStill caught up in her social whirl?”
    She nodded, hating to see the glimmer of pain that crossed his face, a pain she knew was due to something more than illness.
    â€œMaybe I should have given in and gone back to Denver with her when she left, but I doubt it would have made any difference—except for seeing more of you, of course.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “She wanted a better life for you, and I can’t blame her for that. But her ideas of a ‘better life’ and mine couldn’t be further apart. I never could fit in with that snobbish social set of hers . . . not that I ever tried very hard.”
    His breath came out in a long sigh. “I expect she’s happier back in her old circle of friends, with her parents’ money to keep her in the style she was accustomed to before she married me.”
    Amelia nodded again, wishing she could say something to take away the hurt in his voice. But he had only spoken the truth. Instead of encouraging her mother to return to her husband when she turned her back on their