Ben was extremely worried about Samantha, so he finished up the recipes he was working on. Business had been terrible that day. It seemed like since the tourists had all left, no one wanted to come to the town square anymore. He’d seen “for sale” signs in more than one downtown business window.

He made a pot of hot chocolate, grabbed a box of mixed candies, and headed over to the hotel. He wasn’t sure if his offerings could comfort her, but he could only hope that she would feel better after a while.

Learning that she was probably the product of an illicit affair between an employer and his maid had to be hard on her. She had hoped the reason they were related was her grandparents had a marriage based on love and devotion and romance. Not a cheating upper-class man and his servant. Benjamin sighed deeply and parked his car in front of the Fate Valley Hotel. He loved Samantha so deeply it hurt sometimes. He grabbed the thermos of hot chocolate and the box of candy and made his way up the stairs to her room. He knocked tentatively and a moment later she came to greet him, wrapped in a bathrobe with tears in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“No, I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all.”

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” she said, stepping aside for him to enter. She went and sat on the queen-size bed in a huff and covered her face with her hands.

“I would say everything is going to be okay, but I know that’s the worst thing to say at times like these.”

“It’s okay, Ben. It’s not your fault. I’m so glad that you’re here. What did you bring me?” she said, reaching out for the box of candy. “I already ate the last box.” She smiled.

He handed her the box and poured them both a cup of hot chocolate. She sat on the bed with the box of chocolates beside her. She began to pick through the box, chose a caramel-stuffed divinity, and popped it in her mouth. She groaned and closed her eyes as she chewed.

“I’m suddenly in a much better mood,” she said with a chuckle.

“Good,” he said, patting her leg.

She drank the chocolate and let out a long sigh of contentment.

“I am feeling much better now,” she said. “You have that effect on me.”

“I’m glad. What do you want to do with the rest of the day?”

“Well, now that I know what kind of man Ambrose Morgan was, I want to explore a new angle to the article. If he was willing to have an affair with his maid, then I can only imagine what else he would do.”

“You think Ambrose Morgan was an evil man like Midwest Mayhem claims?” Ben asked. “That won’t be a very popular opinion around town.”

“I don’t care about the popular opinion,” she said. “I want to ask the museum curator more questions. Would you go to the museum with me?”

They went to his car and drove quickly across town to the museum. The parking lot was empty, and Ben was worried that the place was already closed. Samantha hurried out of the car and went to the front door. Gripping the handle, she pulled. It was locked. Her face fell as he walked up beside her.

“They’re already closed.”

“I’m sorry Samantha,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Maybe we should go to talk to Midwest Mayhem. I want to know why they called Ambrose evil.”

“They’re just pranksters,” he said. “I don’t think they had any specific reasons.”

“I was doing some research on them last night,” she said as they walked back to the car. “Midwest Mayhem is a group of traveling anarchists. They are always making statements about the injustices of mainstream society.”

“Well, either way, I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out there.”

“Why not?”

“They could be dangerous.”

Samantha swung her car door open. “I’m not afraid of a bunch of punks. I’m from New York.”

“Alright, we can go. But let’s try to be careful.”

They climbed back in the car and started off out of town. Benjamin knew the park where they’d set up camp. It wasn’t far from town.

He was concerned about the reception they would get, showing up unannounced. No matter what, he needed to protect Samantha. She seemed to not be thinking straight since finding out about Ambrose and his maid. Now, all she wanted was to prove that Ambrose Morgan was a bad man. Ben knew that a lot of people would not be thrilled with that, but he was there to do whatever she needed. His priority was helping her find the truth, and ensuring her safety in the process.

They pulled off the highway and onto a side road that led deep into the forest. Samantha was digging through her backpack and pulled out a voice recorder and a camera. She slung the camera around her neck and shoved the recorder into her pocket.

“I want to be ready for anything,” she said.

“What do you think you’re going to find?” he asked.

“I just want to know why they called Ambrose Morgan evil. I want to know if that’s why they took his statue.”

“If they took his statue.”

They drove all the way through the deserted campground and came to the far end. The back corner was crowded with RVs and campers in various states of disrepair. A bus with hand-drawn paintings of anarchy A’s and skulls created a barrier along the side.

Ben was growing more nervous as he parked his SUV out in front of the campsite. Samantha’s face was set like a stone. Undeterred, she slipped out of the car and started walking towards a group of tattooed men in leather jackets and mohawks. Ben was right behind her, ready to have her back if things turned bad.

“What do you want?” said a punk with a green mohawk and a neck tattoo of a spiderweb. He spat on the ground when he saw her.

“I’m Samantha Cooper,” she said, jutting out her hand to shake. He didn’t take it, so she drew it back, still smiling. “I’m with the Historic Times. I’m doing a piece on Ambrose Morgan and the now-missing statue. I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“The cops were already here. We told them a million times: we didn’t have nothing to do with it,” he said.

“You claimed responsibility for the upside down lion in front of City Hall. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, we did. What of it?” he asked. “We paid the fines to the city.”

“I’m curious what you know about Ambrose Morgan?” she asked. “Why did you call him evil on your website?”

“Maybe you should go ask those guys down at Big River Falls.”

“What guys?”

“Forget it. I already said too much.”

“Why did you turn the statue over in front of City Hall?”

“If you must know, it was in protest of raising of the statue. Flooding the land and building this town was bad for the environment. We don’t believe in dams, and we don’t believe in displacing people who have already claimed a place.”

“Displacing people?” she asked.

“You know there was a town here before the land was flooded, right? All those people had to leave.”

“Yes, but they were just squatters,” she said.

“What makes someone a land owner? A piece of paper? After exchanging a bunch of pieces of paper that have no real value?” he asked, spitting again.

“These are all very good philosophical questions, but I’m more interested in what really happened.”

“I’m done talking to you, lady,” he said, turning his back to her and lighting a cigarette as his buddies glared at her and laughed.

“Well, thank you very much for your time,” Samantha said.

“Come on, Samantha,” Ben said, rubbing her shoulder. “We should leave before things take a turn for the worse. I don’t like the smell of this place. I’ve never scented anything like this before.”

“Okay,” she said. “I think I got what I came for.”

She lifted her camera and clicked a few shots. As soon as the punks saw her do that, they picked up baseball bats and began to chase them. Benjamin grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the group.

He helped her into the passenger seat of the car and ran to get in behind the wheel. Just then the punks ran up and smacked the hood of his car with the baseball bats. He growled at them, pushing them back with his most dominant growl.

He jumped in the car and turned around as fast as he could. They smashed at his back bumper, cracking his tail light. Benjamin stepped on the gas and accelerated out of the campground. Samantha looked behind her out the back window and gasped. Benjamin looked through the rearview and saw the punks giving him the finger as he drove away.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Samantha said.

“That turned bad, fast,” he said. “I’m glad that I was with you.”

“So am I,” she breathed. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if it was just me.”

They hurried back to town. Benjamin felt exhausted from asserting his dominance over the Midwest Mayhem group. He just wanted to go home and relax with Samantha over a warm meal.

“Would you like to come over to my house? I’m cooking a beef stew in the slow cooker.”

“That sounds so good,” she said.

They drove the rest of the way to his house in silence, both of them still stunned and shocked from what they had been through. Back at Ben’s house, he started into the kitchen and Samantha sat at the counter on the bench facing him. He checked his stew. It’d only had a few more minutes to cook. He’d added baby potatoes and carrots on his break and everything looked like it was cooked to perfection.

“This is going to be done in a jiffy,” he said, popping garlic bread in the toaster oven.

“I’ll set the table,” she said, sliding out of the chair and going to the cabinets to find plates.

“Thank you.”

He found a serving bowl for the stew and scooped it out of the slow cooker. He pulled a fresh salad out of the fridge and the toasted garlic bread from the oven. They both carried everything into the dining room and set it on the table. Ben grabbed a bottle of red wine from his wine rack and sat beside Samantha. The sunset glowed in the distance outside the dining room window. He popped the cork on the wine and poured them both glasses.

Lifting his glass, he said, “To not getting killed by punks today.”

Samantha lifted her glass with a giggle and they clinked.

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, taking a sip of wine with a relieved sigh and a smile.