David said, "He was giving you the opportunity to be free of the past he'd created for you."
A soft rain brushed against her window, calling her back to this place and time, this new life she'd created. It all felt so comfortable and real. She rested her head against the door, imagining David's head exactly on the opposite side. The men pursuing her were just part of some long, nightmare, created by her imagination.
His voice came softly, vibrating the space between them with its resonance. "My grandfather had a favorite quote from Thomas Paine. I know it by heart now. 'Reputation is what men and women think of us; character is what God and angels know of us.'"
She sorted through the meaning, twisting it one way and then another.
"The person we have come to know as Madison Alexander has a reputation, admirable and good. You are respected and loved here for who you are. You are not like your father who lived by lies. Who knows that better than the One who created you?"
There it was again—a father's love that looked like anything other than what she’d known.
David went on, "I can't measure my worth by my own father's method of loving me. He did his best, but he was human. Over time, I've come to trust that my life is guided by someone I can trust. Remember asking me about that on our ride home from the ranch?"
"Yes." She could certainly remember feeling as though she were a mere puppet pulled by strings of an unknown puppeteer.
David's voice called her back. "I thought that I'd never find love again when my fiancé died. I thought coming here was a way to escape the loneliness. It was, but for reasons other than I'd realized. Coming here turned out to be more than an escape from my loss." His voice altered, becoming huskier.
Maddie pressed her hand to the door, feeling her pulse beating where her fingertips met the wood. She waited for him to finish, but he did not.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes. "David?"
A whispered, "Yes, I'm still here."
"Then you don't hate me—for lying."
The soft laugh preceded a heavy sigh. "No, Maddie, I don't hate you."
"That's good." She curled herself into a tight ball, her back against the door, her arm cradling her head.
In some part of her sub-conscious mind she heard him add, "Quite the contrary, dear Maddie, quite the contrary."
Chapter 30
Out of all the household, only Jessie slept later than the roosters next door. She shuffled into Lena's bedroom where Maddie was pinning Lena's thick hair into an upswept mass of curls. The style perfectly matched Maddie's. They both turned to ask Jessie's opinion.
"It'd fool me," she said. She yawned and plopped herself atop Lena's quilted bedspread. "Did Bart find that leather bag in the attic, the one Ely left last fall?"
"Hours ago," Lena answered while fixing Jessie with a look of admonishment. "And David’s left for the livery to pick up his buggy and mare. And Cummings has left for the hotel. And Ely and Evan should be arriving soon with the money." Lena wagged her head. "We didn't think you were ever getting up. Shouldn't you be dressed? You need to be at the hotel restaurant to meet Cummings in an hour."
"Oh!" Jessie made the effort to rise to her feet, as well as she could carry an extra fifty pounds.
"Come on. I'll help you get dressed." Lena took Jessie's arm to pull her the rest of the way to her feet.
Maddie started for the door before them. "I'll warm some coffee."
With Jessie and Bart finally out the door and on their way to the hotel to meet Cummings, the women were left alone in the tomb-like quiet of the house. Maddie repositioned her hat for the fourth time, sticking the hat pin a bit too close to her scalp this time. "Ouch!"
"Maddie, sit down before you hurt yourself anymore." Lena patted the chair beside her where she sat in her favorite chair, book in hand.
Maddie threw up her hands, shaking her head in disbelief. "How can you remain so calm? I could never read a book at such a time! We have two dangerous men who at this very moment are being invited by Jessie to find us! You heard Mr. Cummings say what they're capable of doing."
Lena lay the book in her lap, marking her place with her hand. "Yes, that's all true, but we have committed to a plan and nothing remains for me to do at this moment." She brought her hand to probe at a loose curl. "Besides, who says I'm actually reading? Truth be told, I've read the same page at least a dozen times. I still couldn't tell you what it says." She looked up with a grim half smile.
Maddie began to pace again from the parlor to the entry and back, squinting out the window with each pass. "Where are they? Shouldn't Evan have been back an hour ago? And I can't imagine what is keeping David. The livery is only two blocks away."
"They'll be here." Lena held the book before her eyes again, her hand trembled slightly. Maddie saw it and knew her words of assurance were like her attempts to appear calm by reading a book.
At that moment, Evan and Ely made a noisy entrance through the kitchen door. Lena jumped to her feet and flew across the room. "Where have you been, Evan? Ely's office isn't that far away! We've been worried sick!"
Evan pulled his hat from his head. Maddie noticed a line of sweat beading his forehead and wetting his sideburns. He scratched at his head, looking sheepish before Lena's interrogation. "Ely was convinced we were being followed."
"We were. Ja! That was not my imagination!" He waggled his finger and scowled.
"So, we took the safe route here just in case." Evan waved vaguely in the direction of the river. "Walked the trail along the river. I hung back just in case Ely's feelings were accurate. I never saw anyone."
"I tell you, someone was there." Ely harrumphed to himself.
Lena sagged against Evan, holding his arm close. "I'm just glad you're both all right."
Evan looked about. "Where's David?"
Maddie answered, "We don't know. He should have been back by now."
"Maybe I'll go looking." Evan turned but Lena grabbed his arm.
"Oh no, you don't! You are staying right here!"
Ely dropped the leather satchel on the kitchen table as though it was hot. "Then I'll go. My part in this little story is over. Ja?"
David drew the back of his hand across his sweating brow, managing to spread a smear of blood into his hair as well as his forehead. He took in a calming breath and blew it out slowly. At least his hand had stopped trembling.
"How many more, Doc? This ain't no picnic for me." The blacksmith, peered up at him with one good eye, the other already purple and swollen shut.
"I'd say two more stitches should do the job. But then there's the gash on your chin to tend. Take another drink of whiskey before I take another stitch."
The blacksmith lifted the bottle from the table, but never made it to his mouth before David grabbed it from his hand and took a long drink of his own. He handed it back without a word. The blacksmith squinted at him with his one good eye. "Wouldn't think that'd be a good thing for you to be doin' considering how close that needle is to my eyeball and all."
David lifted the needle with a steady hand, poising it above the man's injured eye. "Trust me! I'm a professional."
He glanced for the umpteenth time at the clock on the man's kitchen wall and ground his teeth. Reminding himself that he was a professional didn't help. It was that profession that was currently putting Maddie at risk. With a patient bleeding profusely from a head injury, he could hardly refuse to treat him.
Turning to the gash on the man's chin where the mule had extracted its revenge on the blacksmith, he cleaned the wound and made the assessment that it should be easier to mend. He glanced up at the clock for the umpteenth time, grimacing. They should be leaving the house now on their way to the train station.
"Lord Almighty!" Ely said.
David turned at the familiar voice, the needle gripped tightly in his hand and the thread tugging the man's face in the same direction.
"Heh! Watch it, Doc! I'm not some durn puppet!"
"Ely! How are you
at mending?"
Bart helped Jessie into a chair, then stood back, looking grim. Jessie, on the other hand, was effervescent with her triumph.
"Oh Maddie! You would have been so pleased with my story." Jessie, a bit out of breath, stroked her swollen belly.
"It was supposed to be a short story, Jessie." Bart leaned against the sink, arms folded in a huff across his chest.
Jessie waved off his mood. "Pshaw! Who would have believed something as simple as Mr. Cummings proposed? I had plenty of opportunity last night to compose a better story."
Maddie felt an uncomfortable itch as a bead of sweat ran beneath her collar. "What did you tell them, Jessie?"
Jessie leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Well, I told them about how we found you out. I explained how I saw the satchel of money under your bed while I was cleaning. Instead of taking it, I left it there. Then I told them how we listened in on a conversation with your friend, David, and how you and your father had come into a great deal of money."
She rolled her eyes, grinning at her audience. "Upon my word! Those odious scoundrels drank in every word."
Evan interrupted, "But what of these Sicilians? What do they look like?"
Bart answered first, "One's every bit as big as you, Evan. The other is stockier, more like me I'd be guessin'. One man, the tall one, definitely had a pistol under his jacket. Not sure about the other one. I'm supposing, just by the look of him, that he might be a knife man."
Maddie shivered as they spoke so carelessly about such monstrous men. She asked, "Did they appear to be interested? Do you think they believed her?"
His forehead knotted, Bart nodded. "I'm for sure they were listening. Thought they might fall out of their chairs from time to time. Jessie can sure weave a tale."
"Oh, I'm quite certain they believed me." Jessie's curls bobbed as she nodded. "When I told Mr. Cummings how ghastly you had treated me for not pressing your blouse in the way you liked it, I'm sure one of them made an audible note of sympathy."
This picture Jessie had painted of her made Maddie appear more beastly with each word. Next, she'd learn that Jessie had told them she feared for her life. She groaned softly and clutched her churning stomach.
Lena rapped the table with her knuckles to call Jessie back to the moment. "How did it end? You did remember to tell them that Maddie and David were catching the train this morning?"
Jessie cast her eyes to the ceiling for a half moment. "Yes. I'm quite certain."
Maddie caught Evan exchanging a look with Lena, his pursed lips. Skepticism?
"All right!" Lena rose to her feet, shaking out the wrinkles in her skirt. A look of defiance and something else, perhaps bravado, lit up her features. "As Mr. Conan Doyle puts it, 'The game's afoot.'"
Evan's chest rose and fell, accompanied by a heavy breath. "Think the horse has started off on its own, that's for sure. Just hope we can keep it under control."
Lena linked her arm through his. "Of course, we can."
At that moment of supreme confidence, two things occurred that brought a collective gasp which seemed to suck the air from the room. First came a loud, demanding knock at the front door. The second was the apparition of David coming through the kitchen door, his face and white shirt streaked with blood.
Only Jessie had the presence of mind to put the emotion into words. "Lord-a-mercy!"
Chapter 31
Being closest to the front door, Bart slipped down the entry hall. Maddie saw him ease the curtain a fraction of an inch on the side window panel. He'd be squinting through stained glass, but perhaps discern something of those knocking.
Maddie glanced back into the kitchen to see Lena pulling David to the sink. "What happened to you?" She was already wiping blood from his face with a wet towel.
David whispered just loud enough to be heard in the room, "It isn't mine. Tell me, what's going on?" At the same time, he took the towel from Lena and began to scrub his face vigorously.
Bart reappeared, his freckles showing more clearly on his pale cheeks. "It's them," he whispered.
"What?" both Evan and Lena asked at once.
Bart shrugged and headed up the stairs two at a time.
Jessie grimaced. "He'll be going for more guns, for sure."
David threw the towel in the sink, faced them and took command. "Evan, you and Lena get going to the station. Let's stick to the plan." He turned to Jessie. "Cummings left for the station already?"
Jessie nodded, her face flushed.
He turned back to Maddie. "Can you go to my room and bring me a clean shirt? You and I won't leave here until Bart returns. Jessie shouldn't be alone with them." He began to unbutton his shirt as he spoke.
Maddie felt frozen to her spot, her head oddly light.
"Maddie!" It was still a whisper, but his voice grabbed her attention. She fled from the room, feet light on the stairs.
She'd never seen the inside of David's room. Its neatness should not have been a surprise, but it was simply because it lacked anything to distinguish the room as his. No pictures were displayed on the dresser, or walls—nothing laying out in view, at least. The first drawer she opened, the most logical one to hold a man's shirts, was the correct one. She blew out a breath of relief and tiptoed back to the door.
She had sense enough, despite her fear, to stand quietly and listen first. A man's deep voice carried the gruffness she would have expected of ruffians. She gripped the shirt to her chest, waiting. Jessie's light laughter drifted under the door, somehow reassuring in its familiarity. But she was facing them alone in the hall. Surely, they wouldn't be beastly enough to harm a woman with child.
With supreme care, she slowly twisted the doorknob and opened the door a crack. The words became distinct.
"We just want to speak with the young woman named, Madison. It's about her father." The man's heavily accented voice spoke in what he probably considered a friendly tone. It was not. Any words spoken by a man with such a voice would sound threatening, even a pleasant 'Good morning' would send a child scurrying for its mother's skirts.
Jessie seemed to have recovered her courage, her voice light and gracious. "She and her young man already left the house for the train station. I'm afraid you've just missed them."
There was a long pause. Then she could hear the softer voice of the other man, probably speaking with his companion. The exchange was in a foreign language. She assumed Italian.
Then she heard Jessie's voice, remarkably calm. "I'm sure you can catch them there. The train doesn't leave for half-an-hour. If you hurry that is."
Maddie held her breath, knowing that others were just as she, waiting to see what the men would do next. No matter these men's skills with guns and knives, she felt confident that neither David nor Bart would allow them to harm Jessie. At last she heard the door close and as it did, she burst from the room, running down the flight of stairs.
"Well done, Jessie," David said as Bart wrapped his arms around his wife and babies.
Maddie stared for a moment at David's bare chest, startled at the firmness of it, the thickness of his arms. She had not thought of him in this way—strong.
He cocked his head, looking at her curiously, his hand extended. "May I have my shirt?"
She gave it to him, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.
"Let's go." He was already heading for the backdoor as he buttoned his shirt.
Bart stopped them with his voice, "I'm coming."
David turned, frowning.
"They won't come back here," Bart said calmly. "You may need the backup."
Jessie held the shotgun Cummings had kept with him last night. "I used to hunt skunks with my brothers. They won't bother me."
David kept to the back street, close to the river. If the men were still on foot, they'd beat them to the train station. Maddie felt her heart thudding to the rhythm of the little mare's hooves. A moment of panic caused her to grab David's arm. "Did you bring the second satchel?"
He glanced at her, nodd
ing. "It's in the back."
David didn't bother hitching the mare to the post, he simply jumped from the seat and threw the reins onto the floorboard. Then he reached up, taking Maddie firmly by the waist and swung her down to the station step. Bart took off at a run behind the station.
Maddie clung to David's hand as they raced up the steps to the boarding platform. In his other hand, he carried the leather bag. They scanned the platform, sorting through passengers and train personnel.
"There they are!" Maddie leaned into David, pointing to Lena and Evan at the far side of the platform. The couple stood with their backs to them. Cummings was nowhere near.
The train already puffing steam, sent clouds across the platform, giving their surroundings an almost surreal atmosphere. Passengers mingling with friends and family made it almost festive. Yet, somewhere in this, two men would emerge to exact their retribution. She gripped David’s hand tighter. As she did, she felt the reassuring answering squeeze from his.
David slowed their pace, forcing himself and by default, her, to look as casual and vulnerable as possible. Maddie wondered if their plan would work now that they'd beaten the men to the platform. David deftly steered them to the far-left section of the platform. Two women, two satchels, two Sicilians looking for their mark.
Maddie became aware of a growing pain in her hand. "David, you’re breaking my hand," she whispered. The discomfort eased.
"Say something," David whispered.
She looked at him for an explanation. "Oh!" Understanding, Maddie grasped for something to say. "It looks like a good day for traveling." It was a poor offering and hardly a good conversation starter.
"Yes, my dear, a propitious beginning to our holiday," David said, louder than she'd ever heard him speak in the months she'd known him. He was stepping into the role with both feet.
Maddie asked, "Did you see the porter put our luggage on board?" She glanced over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sheriff.
"Yes, dear." David leaned over to whisper, "I see them. They're both heading for Lena and Evan. We have to draw their attention."
Redeeming Lies Page 21