Mollie’s stomach flopped as she imagined the wet nurse—an unskilled horsewoman—trying to handle a wiggling child on her lap as she rode. “We need to find her!”
“I have another officer rounding up a few more men, to start a search posse to spread out and search the city. They’ll be meeting us here soon.”
Twenty agonizing minutes passed. The posse had arrived, and were standing out on the front walk consulting with the sheriff as to which way they should be headed, when Noah galloped up to the home at full speed.
He was alone, save the officer who arrived just behind him. Mollie’s heart sank.
He pulled to a quick stop and dismounted, followed by the police officer.
“She wasn’t there,” he said, out of breath from the strain of the ride. “I saw an officer along the way, explained the situation, and he came along. The other officer showed up a few minutes after we got to the station. There was no sign of her, and the clerk at the window hadn’t sold any tickets to anyone who met Miss Fulton’s description. The other officer stayed behind, in case she showed up afterward. The last thing we want is her getting on a train.”
“What do we do now?” Mollie could feel her voice rising, and it was all she could do to keep from becoming hysterical. “How can we know where to look?”
“Sheriff?” Jefferson called from the open front door. “There’s a telephone call from the jail.”
Mollie gripped Noah’s arm as she watched the sheriff go inside to answer it. The officers and men who had come to join the posse continued the debate over their options, while one man held up a well-worn map of the city and surrounding area.
It was a long minute before the sheriff returned.
“She’s been sighted,” he said curtly. “Just after Mr. Jamison left the station, the other officer saw a woman behaving oddly, and watched her leave by horseback. She appeared to be cradling a large bundle.”
“It’s her!” Mollie cried. “It has to be.”
The sheriff nodded. “The officer called into the jail to report it, before he pursued her. She’s heading north, out of town. He thinks she was hiding in a closet at the station. She must have seen you ride up with the officer, Mr. Jamison, and slipped into hiding before she’d even gotten to the ticket counter.”
Noah slammed his fist sideways into the short wrought-iron fence, then winced in pain. “I should have looked better.” He looked toward Mollie, half angry and half afraid. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault, I should have seen her—”
“It’s no one’s fault. Let’s just go find her.”
“Not so fast, Mrs. Jamison. I know very well who you are to that child. You and your husband will be staying here. I don’t want either of you getting over-emotional, or going off half-cocked and putting the child in danger.”
“I would never do that! I’m going, and there’s nothing—”
Noah grabbed her hand and squeezed hard, and she recognized the signal instantly. Quiet down, it said, before you prove him right.
“I understand your concern,” Noah said to the sheriff, “but this Fulton woman believes somehow that the child is hers, and that Mr. Deming is trying to give her away to someone else. She is, in her fragile mind, a mother who is fighting for her baby. She could do anything. If you corner her, what will you do? She won’t listen to any man. You’ll need a woman—someone who understands, and can empathize with her—to talk sense into her.”
“There’s no way of knowing if anyone can talk sense to her.”
“Sheriff Langton, we’re going,” Deming stated. “All of us. You need as many warm bodies as you can, and you’ll only waste time trying to fight me on it.”
The sheriff sighed. “Fine. Come along if you must, but you stay at the back of the posse, unless I call you up front. Got it? Any one of you disobeys that order, and I’ll take an officer away from the party to escort the lot of you at gunpoint back to town.” He threw an angry glance at Deming. “Regardless of how fat your purse is, or who you know.”
“Fair enough.” Deming’s voice sounded mild, but fire burned in his dark eyes.
Chapter 31
They were on the road in minutes—Deming’s driver had already saddled all the Deming horses up, anticipating Mr. Deming’s needs. The driver and Jefferson rode along, in case they could be of any help, but they stayed toward the rear with Deming and Noah and Mollie. It wasn’t until they were well out of town that they met up with the officer who had been following Miss Fulton’s trail from the railway station. They were at the junction of that smaller road and the main road that led out of town, north toward the mountains. Her tracks had disappeared in the jumble of prints at the junction, and it was decided that since the search party hadn’t caught sight of her, that she most likely headed into the mountains. They turned north.
In spite of Jefferson having handed out extra hats, gloves, and scarves—since Noah and Mollie hadn’t come dressed heavily enough for such an excursion—Mollie’s teeth chattered, and her feet started going numb only an hour into the search.
She eyed the sky with worry. “It’s only March. It still gets dark fairly early,” she said.
“We’ve got almost two hours,” Noah said, riding alongside her.
“Unless we find her quick, that’s not enough time to find her and get back to town before dark. And she’s a madwoman—who knows if she dressed Nell properly? Especially since she obviously planned to take Nell away by train, not by a long trek through the mountains.” Her belly curdled at the idea of Nell’s lightly-shod foot sticking out of one or two light blankets.
“She thinks Nell is her baby—she’ll dress her just as warmly as you would.”
“I hope so.” But then she remembered the rough way Fulton had handled Nell, and she shivered.
As the ascended the hill leading into the foothills of the mountains on the north side of the valley, the road slowly became more obscured under the horses’ feet, where the shadows of the mountains made it harder for the snow and ice to melt away under the winter sun.
Soon, the road had disappeared under ice and frozen snow, though they could still find their way by following the hoof prints and sleigh tracks of the travelers who’d come and gone before them—though none of them looked very recent. The ground was too hard-frozen to show more than an occasional hoof print.
The road bent, angling gradually to the left.
“Hold up!” an officer called at the front.
Everyone pulled their horses to a stop and waited. The man backtracked, walking alongside the right side of the group. They watched as he leaned over in his saddle, inspecting the ground. “There are tracks leading off this way. Someone wandered off the road.”
“Think it was intentional?” the sheriff asked.
The man passed Noah and Mollie, then stopped, his eyes following a trail in the softer snow, which went off to the right and headed up the side of a different hill. He frowned. “Don’t know. Can’t see why someone would go up there, unless they were hunting, or maybe got snow-blind.”
“But it hasn’t snowed here for days, by the looks of it.”
“You said she’s an inexperienced horsewoman. If she’s upset, and not minding her way, it’s possible she just followed the lay of the land, without paying attention to the fact that the road and other tracks curved to the left.”
“That’s a mighty big ‘if’. Those tracks could be from anyone.”
“But they’re fresh—you can see how the hoof prints broke through the crusted surface, sinking deeper into the powder beneath,” the officer said, righting himself in the saddle. “It may seem unlikely, but my gut is telling me that’s the way she went.”
Deming made his way closer to the sheriff, sitting tall in his saddle. “If he’s wrong, we lose a lot of time following a dead end.” He narrowed his eyes at the scout.
The officer merely met Deming’s gaze, not looking away. He’d let the sheriff make the call, but he wouldn’t back down from his opinion.
M
ollie’s stomach was in knots. They had no time to lose, and couldn’t afford a mistake.
“We split up,” the sheriff decreed. “Can’t take a chance that either decision is the wrong one. Half of us continue up the road, the other half follows that trail. If either party decides they’ve gone the wrong way, they double back to find the others. And if one party finds her, you fire in the air, unless you feel like it’s gonna set the woman off.”
The officer nodded. “Who goes which way?”
“You take the back half of the party down the trail. Jackson will lead the front half up the road. She’s probably still on the road, so I want most of the officers headed that way. But I’ll join you and the volunteers, just in case you find her. I don’t want you left alone, with only volunteers to back you up.”
The posse split into two search parties, and as she and Noah and Deming—along with two other men who had volunteered for the search—followed the sheriff and the scout up the trail, she couldn’t help but look back at the others following the road, hoping that she was in the right search party.
The trail was easy at first, going straight for a short piece before winding to the right and heading around the back side of the hill. When they started the trail, she realized that if someone wasn’t paying attention when the main road had bent to the right, it would have been easy to miss that they had split off from the road.
The trail grew steeper, circling up higher on the hill. Mollie glanced at Noah, who shrugged. She couldn’t imagine that a lost rider wouldn’t have noticed the change in terrain once they reached the steeper, narrow part of the trail. Even in snow, someone would have would have realized their mistake, and turned back.
The scouting officer held a hand up, silencing the few murmurs in the group and bringing the party to a standstill.
Mollie could barely make out the man’s words.
“The tracks veer off this path. I think…” his words trailed off as the wind picked up and obscured them, but she could see him gesture with a pointed finger up the side of the steep hill.
The sheriff turned, placing a finger along his lips.
Mollie’s heart raced as she realized that the scout must think they were onto something. There were only the sounds of crunching snow and snorting horses as they continued, leaving the larger trail for a narrower path.
The fine horse Mollie rode strained harder with the increased effort of the climb, steam puffing from his nostrils as they ascended. If Miss Fulton was indeed on the trail, Mollie didn’t know how the woman wouldn’t hear the crunch of seven horses making their way up the snowy path. What if we spook her?
When they reached the top, the path leveled out. There was a somewhat flat, open space, with a large stand of spindly young evergreen trees off to the right. The searchers spread out to make room for one another as each person’s horse reached the top of the path. Mollie realized that anyone up there on horseback had no way to escape, with the searchers blocking the only path down.
Just past the small stand of trees, Mollie caught movement. The flimsy little branches of the young pines and their scant, feathery needles did little to hide anyone from sight. A lone figure huddled behind the slim trunks, wearing a navy blue coat that billowed out around her crouched figure. Just past that, Mollie caught the swish of a horse’s tail. The rump of the horse peeked out just past a rocky outcropping, where it appeared its rider had attempted to hide it.
Then she heard it—a small sound over the wind. A mewling wine.
Nell!
The sheriff hopped off his horse, advancing a few paces before standing with his feet slightly apart. “This is Sheriff Langton!” he called. “I know you’re back there, Miss Fulton. Come on out here so we can talk a bit.”
There was no response, but the figure shifted in her crouched position behind the trees.
“I’m not here to harm you or the child. Let’s be calm about this, and discuss things like the responsible adults that we are.”
“You’re not here to talk!” a voice cried out, echoing off the rocky outcropping. “You’re here to take my baby away.”
“She’s not your baby!” Deming snapped. “Come out here at once, Miss Fulton, or you’ll find yourself out of a job.”
A wild laugh followed. “I’m already out of a job. You made that clear! You wanted me to wean her so you could send me away. She needs me. She loves me! But you don’t care about that. You and your pathetic wife, you’re just jealous because she loves me and not you.”
Deming hurled himself from his horse, rushing forward toward the stand of trees, but the sheriff held him back.
“Don’t let her get you riled. She has a child with her. We don’t want to set her off.”
Mollie could see the effort it took for Deming to rein himself in. “Fine,” he snapped, yanking away from the sheriff and stalking back to his horse.
Mollie could barely move, frozen with dread. She didn’t even realize Noah had dismounted until he appeared at her side, gently helping her to unclasp the reins, which she gripped so tight that her knuckles ached. She allowed him to help her from the saddle, then steeled her nerves and joined Noah at the sheriff’s side.
“Miss Fulton, I’m sure this has all been a misunderstanding, the sheriff called. “If you’ll only return the child unharmed, I’m sure we can clear it up somehow. Don’t force us to be rough with a lady, please.”
“You think I’d harm my child? I’m the only one who cares for her. I’m the one that nourishes her, and changes her soiled diapers at night. She’s mine! I won’t have her taken away again. I never did anything wrong the first time, and I’m not doing anything wrong now.”
“What’s she talking about?” Mollie asked, turning toward Deming.
“I…I have no idea. We’ve never taken Cordelia—I mean, Nell—away from her before. We’ve only asked that she started weaning the child. That’s all.”
“Could she be talking about her first child? Does she see the child dying as having her baby taken away?”
“Mr. Deming,” the sheriff said in a low tone, his eyes never leaving Miss Fulton, “you said her husband and infant died in a fire. Did you hear of any such fires having occurred right before you left Boston?”
“Well…you’d hear of fires all the time, here and there. I hadn’t noticed any news of large fires, but then I wouldn’t have paid much attention, unless the fire was in a business district or a home near our own.”
Mollie caught on to the sheriff’s line of thinking. “Are you trying to say—?”
“I’m not saying anything,” he murmured mildly, keeping his expression blank. “Only that if Mr. Deming never checked out Miss Fulton’s story, how do we know she lost a baby in a fire? Or a husband, for that matter?”
“You believe she might have had a child taken away from her?” Noah asked.
Mollie gasped. “What mother has a child taken away from her? I’ve never heard of such a thing!”
The sheriff cast an annoyed glance at Noah. “A woman who gives birth while she’s in jail. Or in an asylum.”
“No,” Mollie whispered, reaching out for her husband. Noah took her arm, holding it firm.
“Are you suggesting I had a criminal in my home?” Deming hissed.
“You said yourself you were desperate,” the sheriff replied, “and that you never checked out her story about a fire. Truthfully, we don’t know where she came from. We only know she had a baby recently enough before you met her that she was still able to nurse a child.”
“But if they took the child away from her,” Noah asked, “wouldn’t they have given the child to her family, or her husband? When she was released, wouldn’t she have been able to see the baby again?”
“I doubt she was released. They wouldn’t take the baby away from her if she was likely to be released only days afterward. They’d probably just let her stay in the infirmary with the child, so she could nurse it. No, something else happened. Most likely she escaped.”
Mollie�
�s stomach roiled as she watched the woman crouching in the trees. She still hadn’t gotten a glimpse of Nell yet. Shouldn’t Nell be moving? Trying to get away? Could it be possible that an escaped criminal—or a madwoman—is holding my child? Could Nell be in danger, or even…?
She didn’t dare allow herself finish the thought. I heard her cry when we first arrived. At least…she thought she had.
“But wouldn’t she have gone looking for her own child, instead of a position as a wet nurse?” Deming asked.
“Something definitely happened,” Noah asserted. “She must have been unable to find her own child, or she knew there was no way of getting her back.”
“Or the child died.”
Everyone’s attention snapped to the sheriff.
“You think the child died in a fire somehow, as she said?”
“No. I suspect the fire was an elaborate story to explain the fact that she had no baby anymore. There probably wasn’t any husband, or she’d be with him. More likely, the child died in childbirth, or…” he glanced at Mollie, then Noah, then shifted his gaze back to the stand of trees.
“Or what?” Mollie asked, trembling, though in her heart, she knew.
Chapter 32
The sheriff didn’t answer.
“You think she murdered her own child?” Deming asked, shocked.
Sheriff Langton shot Deming an irritated glare. “We don’t know that. Why don’t you keep your trap shut?”
The world began to blur and spin, and Mollie willed herself to remain upright, clutching onto Noah’s coat. I will not faint, I will not faint, my child is in the arms of a possible murderer, I cannot faint…
“There’s no reason to believe she killed her child,” Noah whispered, shaking Mollie by the shoulders. “You hear me? None at all. They’re just speculating. For all we know, she was arrested for some small crime, and her child was left at home with the father. Perhaps the father ran off with another woman, and took the child with her.”
“No.” Mollie shook her head. “That woman wouldn’t leave her child. She wouldn’t take on another woman’s child unless she knew her own child was gone. Irretrievably gone.” Somehow she knew it was the truth. “She’s replaced her own daughter with Nell, in her fragile mind. That’s why she said she’s not letting the baby be taken away again. The child died, somehow, and they took the body away from her.”
Mail Order Devastation (Montana Mail Order Brides, Book 4) Page 21