Northwoods Forest Mystery

NORTHWOODS FOREST MYSTERY

Karin Ficke Cook

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Karin Ficke Cook

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Chapter One

Lightning sizzles through the pines with sharp, stabbing jolts and the thunder echoes throughout Turtle Lake, as if bouncing from invisible metal walls. The wind howls in chorus with the wolves who scatter among the groves as they dash for cover. Bears wait out the storm in their lairs, while the smaller animals hide in hollowed-out logs. This is the worst storm of the year 1885 and it will foretell a dangerous chain of events. September normally holds much promise, as the crops are harvested and stored for winter, but this year, actions would discredit an honorable man, destroy a family and throw a tribe into turmoil, while outside forces ravage the land.

Caleb White Bear, a member of the Tribal Council of the Ojibwe Crow Wing Nation and nephew of the Chief, was clearing land for his lodge in the forest, which surrounded Turtle Lake. The land was adjacent to a burial ground, precious earth to the native peoples. It was tended with love, forged in the spirit of Gichimanito. As a tribal elder, Caleb made his home near the sacred ground as its protector. His home was modest by all standards. It was a large, one-room cabin made from hand-hewn pine logs which Caleb and his sons cut themselves. A teepee was traditional, but Caleb was progressive and liked to be warm during the severe northern winters.

Like all the White Bear men, Caleb was tall and well built. His shoulders were broad and well muscled from the hard labor of building a cabin. His hair was long, as was his tradition, pulled back with a leather tie. At 55, it was still sleek and black with only a hint of gray. Caleb was a handsome man and his inner strength showed through his smile. He was Harvard-educated and a military veteran of the Civil War. He served as a scout when the West was opened up for development, but retired at age forty-five to devote himself to writing his memoirs and spending time with his children. And Caleb also worked for the logging company as a bookkeeper, since many people were still unskilled and those attributes came highly prized. It provided an excellent income for Caleb in his retirement along with his pension.

The owner of the logging camp, Joshua Upton, II, was a fanciful man. He would be considered a ‘dandy’ in most circles, dressing in fine silks and ruffles. His brown beaver hat covered a balding head and his six-button waistcoat hid a multitude of sins beneath. And those buttons looked as if they would pop with each successive 5-course meal. His face was round and his cheeks were fleshy – the kind grandma used to tweak. The veins in his nose stuck out from the constant consumption of drink. No, he wasn’t handsome, but he was a snappy dresser!

In contrast to his exterior, Joshua was a considerate and possibly romantic man. His wife’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks and he had a magnificent diamond and ruby necklace hand-made in New York to accent her new burgundy satin ball gown. The Uptons would be leaving for Minneapolis and THE social event of the year, where all the land barons and lumber magnates flaunted the latest fashions and ostentatious wealth, for the entire city to see. So the necklace would be the perfect complement to his lady’s gown. The beginning of September was always the highlight of the social season and the end to summer follies.

It was late Thursday afternoon and the office was quiet. Caleb finished the weekly shipments for cut logs, compiling the bills of lading, drayage and transportation charges. These figures were written using a pencil in a hard-backed, leather-bound ledger, then kept in the safe, along with several similar notebooks. Each night Caleb locked the safe, spinning the dial twice. This Thursday evening, however, as Caleb put the ledger in the safe, he noticed a blue velvet case, sitting inside the safe. Not wanting to touch something like that, he asked his employer about it.

Mr. Upton, what is in the velvet box in the safe? asked Caleb.

Oh yes Caleb the velvet box, remarked Mr. Upton. This is a gift for my wife’s birthday. I had it made in New York and I’m taking it with me when we leave for Minneapolis. Would you like to see it?

Mr. Upton took the velvet box from the safe and opened it to reveal an array of diamonds surrounding five, three-carat pear-shaped rubies on each side, with a large, seven-carat pear-shaped ruby in the center. It was set in platinum, with diamonds on the clasp.

Well Caleb, boasted Upton. What do you think of such a present for my lovely wife?

Caleb replied, Sir, it is magnificent. It’s reminiscent of the jewelry worn by the society ladies in Paris. Your wife should be extremely pleased with this most gracious gift.

Mr. Upton took a lace handkerchief from his pocket and polished the center stone, then held the necklace to the light.

Yes Caleb, retorted Mr. Upton, you are absolutely correct. This is a Parisian design – something my wife had seen in ATLANTIC MONTHLY. I had forgotten your well-rounded education, Caleb. I’ll pick this up on Monday, so be sure to lock the safe up tight.

I do every night, Mr. Upton, Caleb responded. It will be in the safe for you. Good night, Sir.

Good night Caleb, see you in the morning, said Mr. Upton.

The gentlemen parted as they did each evening. Caleb secured the ledgers and the box in the safe, spun the dial twice and blew out the lamps on the desks. Everything looked ready for the following morning, so Caleb walked out the door and locked it. But Caleb didn’t see a grubby face peering through the window of the office as he and Mr. Upton were talking. And that person saw the necklace. The mystery man’s eyes twinkled with delight when he realized this was his for the taking and he could blame it on someone else. What a perfect crime!

Caleb walked the three miles to his partially finished cabin. He dropped his notes and journals tucked inside his buckskin bag on the table in the center of the room. Caleb felt like writing that evening and would use one of his journals to scribble notes. His wife, Mala, had his supper on the stove. There was venison stew in the iron kettle, biscuits baking in the oven. Mala had made a vegetable medley of yams and corn. Caleb lit the fire in the fireplace, added water to the kettle for coffee and sat down to enjoy his meal with his wife. The storm had cleared, leaving a fresh scent of pine and moss throughout the forest. Caleb could see furry faces cavorting in the shadows of the sunset. His world was right where it should be.

Mala White Bear was a radiant woman in her late forties. She was from Madrid, Spain and Caleb met her at Harvard. Her parents believed in educating all their children, not just the boys. She studied English and wrote beautiful, tender poetry. Caleb fell in love with her spirit, her strength and spirituality. Her Catholic faith was of interest as well and he joined the church at their wedding. All three sons were baptized, being raised in the faith at the small wooden church on the reservation. The mix of native traditions and Christian values made a deep and abiding faith for all their members. And it helped the White Bear family focus on the traditions of both worlds to keep a happy home.

Morning came quickly, as Caleb rose at 5:00 am. Mala was still sleeping as Caleb dressed for work. He needed the time to walk to the logging camp, since the draught horse was needed for the plowing or pulling the buckboard. He grabbed some of Mala’s freshly made oat bread, plus a hunk of goat cheese and some venison jerky, wrapped them in a cloth napkin and put lunch in his bag. The ground was still muddy from the storm, but Caleb was able to get around the softest parts and walked for about an hour to the office. After he unlocked the heavy wooden office door, Caleb set his bag on the desk and opened the safe. When he looked inside, the ledgers and box were still there. Nothing had been tampered with, except there was another ledger, which didn’t belong in there. It had a different binding. There were blue and brown papers sticking from inside, possible receipts of some type. He decided to leave it for the afternoon, when he could look at it more closely.

The foreman, Brisco Montana was a burly lumberjack who reminded Caleb of the legendary logger, Paul Bunyan. Although Brisco didn’t have a big, blue ox, he did have a mammoth Clydesdale named Brutus, who he rode throughout the reservation and into Bemidji. Brutus could pull a log out of a jam and drag it along behind him. And he could pull a cart filled with logs, just for the fun of it. Brisco must have been six foot five or more, weighing around 300 pounds. So the Clydesdale was a perfect mount for a giant lumberjack. The cigar Brisco chewed left his teeth stained a dark brown and he smelled rancid, as if he hadn’t had a bath in a month. Actually, the horse smelled better than he did! Brisco’s long, black tangled, curly hair poked out from beneath a woolen knitted cap. He was a good foreman, but some of the men felt he wasn’t honest and would steal the pennies off a dead man’s eyes. Caleb tried to keep a wide path between them, but this morning Brisco came into the office with a fistful of receipts.

Here ya go, Injunman, bellowed Brisco. These are today’s receipts for supplies and expenses. That’s it for the week. You got my pay envelopes?

Caleb pulled the envelopes for the workers from the safe. Friday was always payday.

Here they are, Mr. Montana. Just like always, replied Caleb.

Brisco Montana snatched the pay envelopes from Caleb’s hand, rolled the cigar in his mouth and spit into the spittoon on the floor by the front door. As he was walking out the door, he hit his head on the lentil then yelled some obscenities as he barked for the men to pick up their pay. Caleb went about his business and noticed it was 5:00 pm. Time for everyone to close up and go home.

Caleb walked to the safe with the ledgers. But his curiosity got the better of him and he took the foreign book from inside, setting it on his desk. He put the rest of the ledgers away, checking to see the necklace was in its box then locked the safe. He sat down to skim through the journal and was astonished at what he saw. Quickly packing the journal in his bag, he was ready to leave. Mr. Upton waved goodnight from his office and told Caleb to have a good weekend. The workers went into Grizzly’s Grunt Saloon, to spend their pay on cheap booze and loose women. But Caleb walked to Anderson’s Trading Post for coffee, yeast, vanilla beans and chocolate, for a family treat. And he had ordered a bolt of cloth for Mala, some new journals for himself, writing paper and ink for Mala, and picked up a pair of shoes for his oldest son, Micah. There was room in his bag for something else, so he added licorice sticks, along with ginger snap cookies for his younger sons, Byron and Daniel. No one would be left out. Supper was ready when he came through the door with his treasures.

The light breeze felt good to Caleb, who by now was tired from walking home with his purchases. The sun was setting along the lake and he could hear the loons making their courting sounds. The water rippled, dancing to the rhythm of Mother Earth and the eagles soared high above the treetops. Late summer mingled with early autumn to create a fluffy mist as it rolled across the ground. The Aspens showered the landscape with spinning golden leaves. And the barred owl hooted from his home in a pine tree. Caleb thought it would be a cold winter and they should get the cabin completed within two weeks. The boys could help and Mala was busy sewing curtains and batting for chinking.

Once supper was finished, Caleb sat at the table reading the journal. The pages were written in a Victorian hand, which is called Copperplate script. The ink was a faded brown (common in those days), but some receipts were written in pencil. The writing was unknown to Caleb. He was astonished to see receipts for land. The tribal burial ground was in the center of this land acquisition and from the notes scribbled on the corner of the receipt it showed the logging camp expanding onto the scared earth. Three-page work schedules dated for September 10th were also found in the journal. Trees were to be demolished the following week, along with the destruction of the burial ground and all the trees close to his cabin. Caleb’s family and his tribe were in danger.

Mala, look at this entry, winced Caleb. Mr. Upton is stealing the land.

It was time to warn the Tribal Council before anything happened.

Micah, ride to the chief and tell him of this development, requested his father. Gather the council for tomorrow morning then stay overnight.

Micah leapt onto his horse then rode away swiftly. Caleb continued to pour over the receipts and notes. He showed them to Mala and their disbelief turned to sadness. Caleb banged his fist on the table in frustration. Then he wrote down what he observed in his memoir journal and put the book on its shelf.

Saturday morning came in with another rainstorm. It was simply rain, but it stung Caleb’s eyes as he rode onto the reservation to see the chief and the council. Chief Felix Redhawk raised the flap on his teepee and beckoned for Caleb to come inside. The council had gathered to hear Caleb’s news. Caleb stepped inside to be greeted by seven council members, many of them chiefs. There were two women included to represent their members. There was equality here.

Caleb addressed the elders of the tribe. My brothers and sisters, there is something I have discovered at the logging camp, which is of great trouble to us. The logging camp has purchased our lands and our burial ground to expand their operations. Here is the receipt, one of many, which tells of the land they bought. The name on this receipt is that of Indian Agent Park Wilson. He has betrayed us, sold land, which did not belong to him. We must do something about this before anything is destroyed.

Chief Redhawk, Caleb’s uncle, stood to address his people. I am saddened by this and I feel betrayed. We must locate this Agent Wilson and make him explain what he has done. We will discuss this among ourselves and give you a decision tomorrow, nephew. Go home and wait for our answer.

Caleb took his leave and rode home with Micah.

Mala waited in the doorway for her husband. She sensed something was greatly troubling to him and they decided to walk in the wood behind the cabin once he returned. Caleb dismounted his horse and Micah put both horses in the barn.

Caleb walked over to his wife and said, Mala, we have trouble brewing. You and the boys must go into town to stay for a while. Or you can go to the reservation. I want you safe.

But Caleb, what about finishing the cabin, asked Mala. The boys are in school and your job? But if you wish it, then we will do it.

Canadian Geese flew in their familiar formation across the late summer sky, as Caleb and Mala walked back into their home. The shadowy figure of the large gray wolf could be seen at the tree line and it howled with a great sadness. Mala’s deep black eyes filled with tears as she looked around the forest at the tall pines. Her heart was weak for fear these men would cut down the mighty behemoths, which stood for hundreds of years.

Caleb, Mala said softly. These giant trees are our protectors. The Great Spirit Carriers live in them, as does the Guardian wolf. They talk to us about our heritage, teach our children about the forest and how it lives. If this is all gone, how will the traditions go on?

Caleb brushed the tears from her eyes and assured Mala nothing would happen. The Nation would prevent it.

That evening, a storm rumbled in the distance. The night was blacker than usual and an evil spell was cast upon the logging camp. About 11:00 PM, shadowy figures circled the office of Mr. Upton. Armed with crowbars and knives, three men broke the windows in the back office. As they climbed in through their destruction, two of the thugs were cut on shards of glass remaining in the windows.

Yeow, screamed one.

Shhhh, said another. We can’t be heard, ‘cause we’ll get caught.

One of them knocked over a lantern. The oil spilled out under the floorboards and into the earth beneath. There was a bang on the door. It was Brisco Montana. He was in on the heist, too. He threw open the front door and as he did, lightning lit up the sky behind him, portraying an eerie figure against the light.

Okay men, bellowed Brisco. Let’s get to the safe and take everything out. I know the combination because I stole it from that dumb Caleb’s desk. Ha! We can blame the whole thing on him.

The weasely one, know only as ‘Buckmann’, smiled with a toothless grin. He had only one tooth dead center in his mouth. And his eyes bugged out of a dirty face and a floppy hat covered his greasy hair. He wore a tattered red plaid shirt with suspenders attached to khaki pants and his boots were knee-high, well-worn brown suede. He smelled worse than Brisco!

Inside the safe were five thousand dollars in cash, a quantity of bearer bonds, a box of very expensive Cuban cigars and the journals. The necklace was still there, as was a set of keys, probably for Upton’s Minneapolis mansion. The robbers shoveled their stash into a mail sack, taking the necklace out of the box.

We should plant the box at the injun’s place and frame him for this break-in, said the little weasel.

His was the face who had been looking in the window Thursday afternoon. He’d be the one to take the velvet gift box to the woods and plant it in the shed behind the White Bear’s house. Brisco roared with laughter. His deep voice echoed throughout the office and probably out in to the camp.

Yeah, let’s frame that stupid bookkeeper. Put that box at his house somewhere, so someone will find it.

But in his haste, the wretched little man knocked the lighted cigar from Brisco’s mouth and as it fell onto the wooden plank floor, it ignited the oil from the broken lamp. Fire broke out immediately as the oil flowed under the building and over to the adjacent shed. And it proved to be an explosive situation.

The office building was wooden and filled with papers. The fire went out of control and in an instant it spread to the nearby powder shed where the dynamite and blasting caps were stored. All four men ran from the scene with their bag of loot, disappearing from the camp. They watched from the woods, as the powder shed exploded with such violence, it shattered windows in all the other buildings. The horses bolted from their stalls, racing out into the camp. The full force of the blast awakened families, who lived in nearby homes. Sleepy-eyed children and adults stumbled to their front porches. The blaze immediately engulfed three buildings and flames shot their brilliant golden red tongues of fire into the night sky. The smoke nearly overwhelmed the witnesses and people ran back into their homes. Men tried to form a fire brigade line to carry water from Lake Bemidji, but it was too late. The tinder dry wood went up instantly, but some of the buildings were far enough out of the way and were spared.

The fire was seen in Bemidji and on the reservation. Scores of gawkers arrived within fifteen minutes of the first flames, including Mr. Upton. The blast was felt in the surrounding area and windows rattled ten miles away in Bemidji. Upton was so upset, he was in tears. The business he had begun twenty years ago was in shambles.

Who is responsible here? roared Joshua Upton. Did anyone see anything before the fire started?

Well, Mr. Upton, replied Brisco Montana, I saw Caleb White Bear running away from the office. He had something blue in his hand. And he had a mighty fearsome look on his face.

The plan was in motion.

Find him and bring him back here and Brisco, get the Marshall, wheezed Upton.

The smoke was irritating his lungs and he held a lace hankie over his face to protect his lungs. But soon it began to rain and Upton had to withdraw to his carriage. The tavern opened early and people swarmed in for a pint and breakfast. They waited for the Marshall to get there. Once the rain stopped, it was time to see how the fire started.

At 1:00 AM, three men pounded on the White Bear’s cabin door. Caleb got out of bed and told his wife to stay there. He put his pants and slippers on then opened the door. Within the breath of a second, Caleb was attacked by the men, who placed him in handcuffs and tied a hood over his head. He was literally dragged away. Mala struggled to her feet and sped to the front door.

One of the men pointed a shotgun at her and said, Don’t try to follow us, lady. Your husband just burned down the logging camp and now he has to pay.

They disappeared into the darkness. Frightened, Mala slammed the front door and sank down in a chair by the door.

Boys, she said, with tears flowing down her cheeks, your father has been unjustly accused of something and you need to get over to the reservation. Find your uncle Justice and tell him what has happened. Daniel, you stay here with me. Micah, you and Byron take the horses and go – now. They will take your father to the logging camp to the Marshall, I hope.

With their mother’s direction, the boys went to the barn, bridled the horses, and rode away at top speed. Mala had a job to do. She noticed the ledger was still on the table, along with several of Caleb’s journals. Mala knew this was the key to something important, so she decided to hide them, in case the men came back looking for the journals. There was a trap door under the steps to the sleeping loft. Mala took a knife and opened the logs to reveal what we would call a crawlspace. Mala wrapped the ledgers in a piece of soft leather, then tied it together and placed it in a box for safekeeping. She closed the logs just in time, because she heard noises outside.

Fearing it was more men determined to hurt her family, Mala was relieved when she saw it was the Marshall’s deputy, who knocked politely on the door. Mrs. White Bear answered to find her brother-in-law, Justice White Bear, standing in the doorway.

Justice was a federal Marshall assigned to Indian Affairs and he told Mala to come with him to the logging camp. Mala was comforted seeing Justice and agreed to finish dressing then gathering some things to take for Caleb. Justice sensed something had happened to Caleb and came immediately from the reservation, encountering the boys on the road. But they rode on directly to the chief.

Justice White Bear was as handsome as Caleb. All the men in the family were tall with Justice being the tallest at 6’3". At 35, he was the youngest of five and the only one not married. He was quick on his feet and enjoyed hunting for the family. He was a good tracker, which helped in his job. Every so often, he liked to dab on some Bay Rum cologne, Caleb ordered from the store. The ladies liked it, too. Justice was handsome, that was for sure. He had high cheekbones on an angular face like his brother. His hair was loose and the color of a raven. His eyes were like coal nuggets and his lips were full. There was a scar over his right eyebrow where a prisoner cut him with a broken bottle during a scuffle. And there was power in his arms and shoulders from carrying deer and working in the forest with his brothers. Along with all this machismo, there was a tender side to the man. He had a spiritual quality about him and he loved his Catholic faith, as did the rest of his family. Mala had given the White Bear family the greatest of gifts, the gift of faith. Mala trusted her brother-in-law in all things and she complied quickly with his request.

Mala, Daniel and Justice rode in the family buckboard to the logging camp. Their first sight was that of the burning remains of the office and powder shed. Then they saw Caleb, shackled and chained to a pole. He had been beaten and was filthy from being dragged three miles. Although covered by the sack, there was evidence Caleb’s face had been whipped by tree branches, cutting through the burlap of the sack, creating numerous deep gouges in his skin. One slipper was missing and he had no shirt. Fortunately, Mala had brought a shirt and jacket for Caleb, but no shoes. Mrs. Felicity Anderson was watching all of this unfold and could see Caleb had only one shoe. She was acquainted with the White Bear family and knew Caleb could never have done such a thing. She opened the store for Mala to select a pair of shoes. Mrs. Anderson put them on credit and Mala gave the clothing to Justice to put on Caleb.

Marshall Foster Davis had stopped at home in Bemidji, on his way down to Brainerd for a trial. The prisoner he escorted was locked in a cell at the jail.

He looked reasonable enough, Mala thought, but she’d never met the man. Mala held tightly to Daniel, who was twelve, as Justice walked over.

Justice spoke with authority, Mala, this is a fair man and if he suspects someone else did this, he will find out who did.

Marshall Davis spoke for the first time. All right, who saw this man at the office? Is there a witness?

The grubby little one-toothed ferret spoke up, I did Mr. Marshall. Yes I did. He was a runnin’ away from the orfice and I could see it a burnin’, yes it was. ‘Round bouts eleven, I reckon. He had sumpin’ in his hand, too. It was blue, like a box or sumpin’.

Brisco smirked from the sidelines and nodded to his accomplice.

Mr., said the Marshall, you come into town and make a statement. It’s close to morning now, so come on in and I’ll write it down. Justice, take this man into custody.

Justice walked over to his brother and uncoupled him from the pole.

Justice bowed his head and quietly said, Brother, I know you are innocent. It’s always us, the Indians, who are guilty of everything. What prejudice! Well, they won’t get away with it. Not here and not now.

Caleb acknowledged his brother’s words and climbed into the buckboard Justice had brought from the house. Mala and Daniel rode to Bemidji with them, encircling her arms around her husband.

Be hopeful, my husband, said Mala. God is on your side and so are we.

Chapter Two

Caleb sat down on the cot in his cell as Justice locked the door. Justice then brought a wash cloth, soap and a wash basin for his brother. Caleb was so filthy from being dragged and beaten his injuries couldn’t be seen due to the dirt. Mala was allowed into the cell to clean her husband’s cuts. His back and ribs were battered and bruised. But for the most part, his injuries would heal. It was the emotional scars, which would go deeper and take longer.

Caleb, spoke Mala softly, I don’t understand this, nor does anyone else. Those who know you will never believe you did this. We will discover the truth one way or another.

Justice brought over a hot cup of coffee and some bread for his brother.

I have contacted a lawyer, plus the tribal chiefs are coming into town, explained Justice. Now I must find the Indian agent who is the back-stabbing thief who thinks he can take our land. I saw the receipt last night at the reservation and it sickens me.

Caleb was thankful for the kindness of his family. Soon the lawyer would be there and the Marshall was beginning to take statements. It was 6:00 AM and the town of Bemidji was coming alive for the new day.

Several hours later, the Tribal Council, led by Chief Redhawk, rode in from the reservation and stopped in front of the jail. All dismounted and walked into the office.

The Chief spoke, My nephew Caleb White Bear is innocent. He discovered someone stealing our land. Now they accuse him of setting a fire? Look here, Marshall. Look at this receipt. It proves someone else is at fault.

Marshall Davis took the page and read it then declared, This only shows someone purchased land and has no bearing on the fire. The two issues are unrelated. I am sorry Chief, but Caleb must stand trial.

Chief Redhawk stated, I will not allow this to happen. My people will do their own investigation. We should be partners and work with you, Marshall. These two issued are indeed connected. My nephew has taught us much about white man’s laws, but we will stay out of your way.

Marshall Davis shook his head and asked the Council to leave. They did so, along with Mala and Daniel. She bowed her head to her husband and he returned her gesture.

Justice took his family members back to their cabin. But on the way back, Mala asked if they could stop by the small frame church on the reservation.

The little building stood close to the main entrance of reservation land. It served as the church, community center and school. It was closed on Sundays, but as a church, it was open. They pulled the buckboard up in front of the church and tied the horses to the railing. Justice helped Mala and Daniel from their seats and they climbed the five steps into the church. Father Michel Briyard, a Jesuit priest from Milwaukee, was serving the parish temporarily until their regular priest could return from Rome.

Father had just finished setting the church for Sunday noon Mass. There was a tremendous peace inside and Mala dipped three fingers in the holy water font at the front door. She made the sign of the cross, in memory of her baptism. Justice and Daniel repeated her action. They walked to the altar, genuflected and turned to walk over to the Mary Altar at the left of the main altar. The statue of Our Lady of Grace stood in an alcove, which had two small shelves, one on either side. Father had put beautiful peach-colored roses in vases on either side of Our Lady. Her face was serene and pale in comparison to that of Native American skin tone. She was made of chalk, but held up well to the wild type of weather in the north woods. Her eyes were deep blue and seemed to look through you with a calm, motherly love only she could offer. A votive candle stand was on her right filled with white candles, which cast a heavenly glow on Our Lady’s gentle face and the three family members knelt down as they lit a candle for Caleb.

Mala began to speak in her beautiful, calm voice, Justice, please continue to pray for your brother. We all know he is innocent. I pray for answers but I hear nothing. Please ask Blessed Mother for her protection and her intercession with her Son.

Justice bowed his head in acknowledgment. Mala wanted to