He glanced toward me.
"I noticed."
"Can you arrest him?"
"Not simply because you and I believe he's guilty. I need evidence that will stand up when he denies everything."
I understood.
"What do you need?"
"Records. Witnesses. Proof of where the money went. And if possible, the children themselves."
He looked toward the northern road.
"I'll request assistance from another officer. In the meantime, I want those women somewhere safe."
I nodded.
"They can stay here."
The marshal considered that.
"Can the deputy reach them?"
"Not without witnesses noticing."
"That's something."
He looked toward the stable.
"And you?"
"What about me?"
"Are you willing to help identify the freight connections and the people involved?"
I thought of the two women.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
The marshal studied me for a moment.
"You understand this may become dangerous?"
I almost laughed.
"After yesterday, I figured the danger had already introduced itself."
He didn't smile.
"Then be careful. Those men have money, local connections, and plenty to lose."
I looked toward the street.
"Good."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Good?"
"Maybe that means somebody will finally take their secrets seriously."
He gave me a long look.
Then shook his head.
"You're either stubborn or foolish."
I thought about it.
"Probably both."
The investigation began with the local doctor's office.
The doctor was a thin, nervous man in his fifties who operated a small surgery behind the general store. His hands trembled when the deputy marshal arrived, and he spent the first several minutes insisting that he had done nothing improper.
The marshal requested the records relating to the two births.
The doctor claimed they had been misplaced.
Then he said a recent fire had damaged some of his files.
Then he insisted that the women had misunderstood what happened.
The marshal listened.
Finally, he asked a simple question.
"Did either child die under your care?"
The doctor stared.
"I signed the records."
"That wasn't my question."
The man's face became pale.
He looked toward the window.
Then toward the door.
The marshal leaned forward.
"Doctor, I suggest you think carefully before answering again."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then the doctor whispered, "I was told they were being placed with families."
My stomach tightened.
The marshal remained still.
"By whom?"
The doctor swallowed.
"The husbands."
"And the deputy?"
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
I felt anger rising so sharply that I had to look away.
The marshal asked another question.
"Did the mothers consent?"
The doctor said nothing.
The marshal waited.
Finally, the man shook his head.
"No."
The word seemed to drain whatever strength remained in him.
He sank into a chair.