Redeeming Lies

by Samantha St. Claire

  But what of the Sicilians? Would they be as reasonable? Would they care that she’d had nothing to do with her father’s business? A shiver ran down her spine as she considered the slim probability. She’d read enough gruesome newspaper accounts to put the possibility of reasoning with them to question. There must be another way. She was clever and she would find it. Besides, the likelihood of their following her all this way seemed remote.

  She took stock of her surroundings—a cozy room, an inviting bed, and a kind hostess. Tomorrow, with a clear head, she’d plan Miss Alexander’s new life.

  Chapter 6

  The delicious aromas of cinnamon and brewing coffee tickled her nose awake. Maddie opened her eyes. Confused by her surroundings, she stared up at the glass shades hanging above her. She sat up, the events of the previous day sweeping over her in a moment.

  Madison Alexander needs to pull herself together. She rehearsed her lies. An orphan, with no ties to family, seeking a teaching position in the west, looking to begin a new life. Well, at least two of the three elements of her story weren't lies. She was now an orphan and needed to claim a new identity. She considered her rumpled clothes, making a face as she did. Shedding the shabby jacket onto the bed, she did her best to smooth the wrinkles from her blouse and skirt.

  Bright sunlight streamed through a narrow space where the curtains hung loose over the dormer window. Stretching across the floor, the sun reached for her, drawing her to the window. With one hand, Maddie drew aside the lace. After the previous day's travel through flat treeless plains, she was unprepared for the view that opened to the snow-capped mountain rising steeply at the edge of town. She leaned closer, her nose brushing the glass, her lips parted. The short trip by rail through the dark must have transported her to another place, surely not within Idaho Territory.

  Three short raps at the door broke the spell. "Yes? Come in."

  The door opened just wide enough to admit a young woman's head, adorned with unconstrained, straw-colored curls. Honest, blue eyes peered in at her from a face spread wide with a radiant smile. The cheerful voice perfectly suited her friendly countenance. "Good morning, Miss Alexander!"

  It took little effort for Maddie to return the smile and warm greeting. "Good morning. Please, come in."

  A sleek, black cat took the invitation and maneuvered around the woman's legs padding into the room, jumping onto the bed with a confident air of ownership. The woman planted herself a few feet within the room. "I hope you slept well. I'm sorry I wasn't awake to greet you last night. Bart and I aren't the night owls like Lena and Evan. But that's neither here nor there." She placed her hands on her hips as she introduced herself. "I'm Mrs. Jessica Long, but you can call me Jessie. If you call me anything else, you might think I've gone deaf." She gave out a bright laugh.

  Maddie couldn't help but think of the woman as a character from a book, so wonderfully animated as to be fictional. She adjusted her first appraisal of the young woman's age in light of her married status. Maddie judged her to be no more than twenty. "It’s nice to meet you, Jessie."

  "And what am I to call you? Miss Alexander?"

  "Oh, you can call me Madison if you like."

  Jessie cocked her head and seemed to appraise her for a few moments. "Madison." She tried the name, a thoughtful expression creasing her smooth brow. "That's a pretty name. Not sure it suits you though."

  Maddie changed the subject. "I'm surprised to see so much snow so low on the mountain."

  Jessie looked beyond Maddie to the view from the window. "Oh, that? My, that's nothing. We'll be lucky if we don't see more of it on the streets before winter packs its bags and leaves the valley. Our winters are long and hard, but then nothing like up at the base of the Sawtooths. Winters are fierce, with teeth as sharp as the mountains. We know something about hard weather. All of us lived through real winters. Maybe we can get Evan to tell us the story of how he crossed the Galena summit a few years back. Nearly died, he did." With a sudden, brilliant smile she added, "But it has a happy ending. That’s the best part, you know?"

  Jessie's face softened into a dreamy expression. "It's a beautiful story, a romantic one for certain." She shook her head as though to shift the story back into memory, to savor at another time. "But right now, I'd say it's time for some breakfast for you. The men have eaten and gone off to work hours ago. We have the kitchen to ourselves. You and I can get to know each other better while you fill up on something warm and tasty." She spun about, calling over her shoulder, "I'll heat a pot of water for tea. Come on, Havoc, give the lady some privacy."

  For a moment, the cat turned green eyes on Maddie before jumping from the bed to follow Jessie out the door. The cat, holding its tail high and swinging, appeared to give her another opinion as it followed Jessie from the room.

  A short time later, after splashing cold water onto her face, Maddie followed the lovely breakfast scents into the kitchen. Sitting at a petite desk positioned beneath a corner window, Lena appeared intent on her paperwork. A wide ginger cat curled up in her lap lifted its head, appraising her as she entered. Lena greeted her, "Did you sleep well, my dear?"

  Maddie nodded. "Yes, thank you." Just another harmless lie.

  Jessie held a plate overflowing with a cinnamon bun, a sizable pile of eggs and two rashers of bacon. "Hope you're hungry."

  The truth was that her stomach insistently reminded her that the doctor's sandwich of the night before had been inadequate. Her mouth watered at both the sight and aroma of the bun dripping with icing. "I do believe I am. Thank you."

  Jessie poured tea into Lena's cup as she surrendered her seat to the cat. After her first taste of sticky bun, Maddie found it difficult to keep her bites in ladylike proportions. She experienced the added difficulty of eating while attempting to control the conversation. To do that she needed to initiate the questions. Using the tea to wash down the mouthful of bun and scalding her tongue her tongue in her hurry, she managed to speak before Lena. "Did you bake these, Mrs. Hartmann? They are delicious!"

  "Jessie is the chief baker in the house. I enjoy concocting the savory dishes. She's quite good, don't you agree? I should think she could open her own bakery and be successful."

  "I've never tasted better." She stopped herself in time before adding that she'd never tasted any better in New York's finest restaurants.

  Jessie, her sleeves rolled up, flour dusting her freckled arms, chimed in, "Lena and I have both learned a lot about cooking in the last three years. Had considerable help from a stack of cookbooks Lena toted all the way from Chicago. Think we might write our own cookbook one day."

  A bemused expression indicated Lena's skepticism about that possibility. "We've done well, I think, if our guests’ comments are any indication. So far, we've heard no complaints."

  Maddie caught Lena's shift in posture, the leaning forward, the lips parting as though to ask a question. Before she could, Maddie hurried to ask, "Your home is lovely, Mrs. Hartmann. How long have you and your husband lived here?"

  A moment of hesitation passed before Lena answered, "We think so and feel fortunate to live here. Evan and I moved in the summer of '87. We had been running a boarding house in Sawtooth City prior to that." Maddie noticed Lena's focus shift just over her shoulder as though she were remembering something significant. Her gaze remained there just a moment before she lifted her teacup to her lips and took a sip.

  Maddie asked, "Did you have the house built? It has such interesting features. Those dormer windows and wide porch are just wonderful." Her genuine interest in architecture made the topic an easy and safe one. The house reminded her of the more handsome summer homes she'd seen in upstate New York. Those were the houses of her childhood fantasies, homes where she and her father had fantasized of one day living a normal life of respectability.

  Lena settled her cup onto the saucer before answering. "No, we didn't have it constructed. However, a friend of ours did, Mr. Baxter, an attorney here in Ketchum. He asked us to manage it for him.
"

  Jessie leaned back against the sink, her dishtowel dangling from one hand. "One day, Lena and Evan will have their own place."

  Another thin crease formed along Lena's brow. "Well, Jessie, we certainly hope for that, but life has a way of taking right angle turns."

  Seeing Jessie standing with fists planted on her hips, Maddie presumed this conversation had been a frequent one between them. "I think Mr. Wagner's widow will sell to you and Evan. What's she going to do with all that ranch land?"

  "Jessie, I'm sure Madison doesn't want to hear the details of our business, especially after such an arduous day yesterday."

  Her lips still pursed in a pout, Jessie dropped her hands. Frustration or resignation?

  "So, Madison, how can we help you?" Lena asked.

  This was unexpected. Surely, the woman would first wish to ask her to further explain her background or her failed attempt to find employment. The offer of assistance came as a surprise and caught her off balance. She could use help, but in what form? The stacks of cash within her father's valise could presumably provide her with funds for food and lodging for months if not years. She had yet to count it. However, for the sake of her storied life and to avoid calling attention to herself, she would have to earn a living. "Well, I suppose I will need to look for employment. Perhaps the school?"

  Lena slipped her finger along the delicate handle of her teacup before commenting, "I would imagine those positions are filled. It is April. The position you came west to apply for must have been for an unusual situation, yes?"

  Only the slightest hesitation slowed Maddie's explanation. Fabricated in a moment, she hoped it sounded plausible. "I believe it had to do with the schoolmarm's time for confinement."

  "That must have been a very unusual advertisement to write,” Lena said, a smile peeking out from behind her teacup.

  Maddie was spared from responding when Jessie took a seat next to Lena, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Well, I won't be worrying about losing my job. Lena assures me of that."

  Jessie's smile provided Maddie with the unspoken meaning behind her words. "You mean that you are. . .in a family way?"

  Tossing her head back, causing her curls to bounce gaily about her face, she laughed. "Isn't that the strangest way to say such a thing?"

  Lena drew her arm around Jessie's shoulder. "But those are the conventional words of the day."

  "Well, I'm more inclined to say it straight out. Bart and I are going to have us a baby. Guess that's the same thing, ‘cause we'll for sure have a family then!"

  "How wonderful for you!" Even if she did not share Jessie’s love for children, how could she not be charmed by the young woman's obvious delight?

  Jessie patted her tummy. "But speaking of that, I've been having more trouble buttoning my skirt these last few days. I need to make a trip to the dry goods store soon so I can sew up another one. It won't be long before the whole town knows."

  "Mrs. Simpson told me a new shipment of cloth was arriving this week. We can make a trip today and see what she has in stock," Lena said. "Would you care to join us, Madison?"

  Maddie remembered how in her flight to the northbound train, she'd been forced to leave her trunk behind on the train. All her lovely dresses, fashionable hats and shoes—lost. She'd need to purchase a new wardrobe suitable for her new identity and fabricate yet another story to explain the loss of her trunk. That also meant using a portion of her father's ill-gotten funds.

  All she managed to say was, "That would be most agreeable. Yes, thank you."

  "Perhaps I can inquire about positions for which you might be suited," Lena offered.

  "Yes, of course. Thank you, Mrs. Hartmann." The groan in her head was thunderous. The idea of seeking employment made her knees weak.

  "I told you to call me Lena, remember? We shall make an afternoon of it. After you’ve been shopping, we can share a lunch at the hotel. How does that sound?"

  Maddie realized the advantage to keeping company with two town residents. She could blend in while assessing her surroundings. With luck, she'd recognize anyone who might be looking for her before they recognized her. "That all sounds wonderful!" She even managed to insert a lilt of excitement into her answer.

  Chapter 7

  "It's the downfall. . .of. . .manliness. . .if. . .you must know!" Dr. Thornton's words came in spurts, matching pace with deep leg squats. He paused, the sandbags still perched like parrots upon each bare shoulder. "Unless there's a war on, men become lazy and fat, simple as that!" Extending his arms in front of him, he resumed his squats, ten more before straightening his back with a grunt and throwing the bags onto a nearby chair.

  Dr. Reynolds' sense of humor threatened to reveal his opinion of Dr. Thornton's unusual views on health. Back relaxed against the wall, he stood with arms folded across his chest, nodding agreeably as Dr. Thornton continued his lecture on fitness. He’d contained his amusement, keeping his opinions to himself.

  Dr. Thornton removed the towel from around his neck, wiping his face with the vigor that characterized every facet of his personality. "It's the heart that drives the body, as well you know. Exercise works the lungs that fuel the heart." He clapped a hand heavily on David's shoulder. "It's just such men like you and I that should be on the forefront of this effort to educate the masses. We need to set the example! Teach them the benefits!"

  "Don’t most men have jobs that are strenuous?"

  The older man rocked back on his heels, squinting his disapproval. "Certain muscles are worked, yes, arms, legs. But exercising the heart muscle is quite different. I daresay that most will find their energy and endurance magnified by the type of physical exertion I do for as little as thirty minutes a day. I further say this country can scarce survive without it! We're raising a generation of weaklings! Were we called to wage war today, our armies would be overcome in a week."

  David stepped aside to avoid the doctor's enthusiastic gesticulations, narrowly missing meeting a sweaty towel with his face.

  "Come here, David." Dr. Thornton led him to the far corner of his office where he gestured to an odd assemblage of iron that looked as though it belonged in a carriage factory rather than a doctor's surgery. "How does one build muscle if not by stretching it over and over? This machine of my own design has allowed me to increase my strength and change the very contours of my body!"

  "Interesting." David recalled pictures he'd seen of objects of medieval torture.

  "The blacksmith worked the metal for me. I think I would modify the design for the next one. It would allow me to add weight to either side as my strength improves. Fairly clever, I think."

  Positioning himself into a squat, the doctor gripped a long bar weighted on either end by a series of horse shoes. With his face a picture of focused concentration, the doctor gave a loud grunt and hefted the bar to his shoulders, rising to his full height. With another grunt and an expression wavering between ecstasy and agony, he lifted the bar above his head, holding it for five full seconds. His face the color of ripe tomatoes, he lowered the bar rather more rapidly than he'd lifted it.

  The man gave out an explosion of air as the bar came to the ground with a thud. He beamed at David. "You see? Body, mind, and spirit!" He stepped back then, gesturing for David to try. "Come! You're a much younger man than I. If I can do it, so can you."

  "I'm not dressed for the occasion." As soon as he'd said it, he realized that he had no idea how one should dress for such an occasion. It was a silly response, one he immediately regretted. "Perhaps another time."

  "I suppose. I'll not be leaving for another two weeks."

  David could foresee that there would be no escaping the doctor's efforts to improve his health habits. He managed a thin smile.

  Dr. Thornton pulled his shirt on over his undershirt, while resuming his arguments, no less passionately presented than were they made before a court of law. "Were our bodies properly stretched and strengthened, our minds would likewise become more vigorous. Oxygen availa
ble to the brain, stimulated as it were by exercise, produces vastly superior minds. I could show you studies."

  Holding the doctor's jacket open for him, David tried to put his initial reactions to the doctor's opinions aside. Certainly, points he had made were valid, proven in his own recovery from illness. He could not dispute the fact that his health had improved upon his move to Idaho Territory with its dry and high elevations. In fact, he had been more active in these past few months, riding horses for long hours a day, walking through the streets in brutal weather conditions calling on patients. But the doctor's exuberant endorsement of prescribed minutes of physical training seemed extreme.

  As Dr. Thornton strung his tie about his collar, he kept a studied eye on David. "You’re a prime candidate for an experiment. Why, you're practically skin and bones." He waved his hand dismissively as David started to protest. "Oh, I know. You've been recovering from an illness that afflicts far too many doctors sacrificing their very lives in unsanitary hospitals in the east. Shameful! I've known a few, forced to leave their practice to take up some menial job west of the plains."

  David folded his arms tight across his chest for the second time, his brow creased, not entirely pleased with the doctor's quick diagnosis.

  Dr. Thornton mirrored David's posture for a moment, then broke into a laugh that rumbled from somewhere deep in his recently exercised diaphragm. "I can see you are a man that must prove a hypothesis for himself. I did just that two years ago. If you had seen me then, you might be more inclined to accept what I know to be true. I was overweight and weak as a kitten. Could scarcely climb the stairs at my landlady's house without pausing on the landing for a breath. Sounded like a freight train every night I took the stairs. I'd fall into bed exhausted at the end of the day."