A Texas Promise

by Laura Conner Kestner

  Please, God. Maggie wasn’t even sure what she was asking for at this point, beyond the baby’s survival and safety, but she found a measure of peace in knowing that God understood.

  The smell of freshly-baked bread wafted into the room, making her mouth water. How long had it been since she’d eaten? She couldn’t remember.

  “I’ve got some chicken broth and bread,” Peg said, as if reading her thoughts. “It’s not much, but that’s probably best for now.”

  Maggie thought back to the slop they’d called stew at the asylum. Her stomach lurched in protest. Fresh bread and broth would seem like a feast in comparison.

  Promising to be right back, the older woman left her alone. Within moments Maggie was fighting to stay awake. Despite her best effort, her head drooped as if her neck wasn’t strong enough to support it.

  Frustration and determination kept her eyes open. She couldn’t waste time sleeping; there was too much to puzzle through. Was anyone searching for her? Where were her friends? She’d been at the asylum for several weeks; why hadn’t anyone arrived to help her? Could she escape from here and make it home? Should she even try? Would she end up in the same situation again? Or perhaps even worse? Please, God, help me. Once again, she couldn’t seem to form coherent thoughts or prayers.

  Footsteps in the hall signaled the older woman’s return with food, and Maggie realized how her prayer should be worded: Thank you, God.

  She and the baby had something to eat, the bedding was clean, and the room was warm.

  Those were all things she’d never take for granted again.

  But she still couldn’t control the worry that spiraled through her mind. Her father was being misled, controlled, and possibly even abused. And Maggie knew who was responsible.

  What she didn’t know, was how to stop it.

  Chapter Four

  Thanks to a demanding, nervous-wreck of a tax-collector, Eli spent the rest of the day providing armed escort part of the way to Austin.

  The tax man was a fidgety little fellow headed to the state capitol with a sizable deposit and a fear of being robbed. He wouldn’t even consider taking the train because of hold-ups earlier in the year.

  Even though the outlaws responsible were now dead, and it had been quiet for several months, Eli understood the man’s fears. Yet he hated to leave Moccasin Rock even for a short while. The woman and child were never far from his thoughts as he and the man plodded along at a maddeningly sedate pace.

  When he finally parted ways with the fellow, after handing him off to another lawman, Eli made it back to Moccasin Rock in record time. It was still too late to drop by Peg Harmon’s house. The next morning he knocked on her door.

  In response to a call to come on in, Eli removed his hat and stepped into the front room, a cheerfully cluttered space with simple furniture, an excessive number of knickknacks and crocheted doilies, and a huge fireplace. “We’re in the first bedroom,” Peg said.

  He followed her voice to the next room off the hall and entered to find Peg placing a quilt over the patient, asleep on an old iron bedstead.

  “How is she?” Eli whispered.

  “She’s been in and out,” Peg said. “She ate a little broth and then dropped off again. She’s mentioned the baby. It’s obvious she’s worried about her.”

  “I was going to ask about the little one myself.”

  “She’s asleep in the kitchen, in a box by the stove.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “I’ve gotten a little food into her, and she’s resting well. That’s what she and the young woman need the most. And prayer.”

  Eli nodded.

  Peg looked at him. “Adger Wilson sent for me. His wife had a baby, and he’s worried because she’s feeling poorly. I figure Susana Wilson is plain tired but I told him I’d stop by and look her over.”

  Eli didn’t even try to hide his astonishment. “The Wilsons had another baby?”

  “Yes.” Peg grabbed a satchel from atop the dresser, and headed toward the kitchen. “This makes number nine.”

  “Nine?”

  “Yes.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “It’s not a crime to have that many kids, nor is it a sin.”

  “No, of course not.”

  Following her down the hall, Eli tried to decide whether he was appalled or amused at the Wilson’s news. He spent a good portion of his time chasing the family’s pigs, goats and mule off other people’s property. Thankfully, they kept a better eye on their children.

  He was brought out of his musings when Peg said, “Would you mind keeping an eye on the woman and baby while I’m gone? I won’t be long. If I run into something that will take a while, I’ll have one of the Wilson kids ask Nathaniel to come here.”

  Eli swallowed hard. He’d rather do about anything else, including provide armed escort for the tax collector again but he agreed to the request. Hopefully, both patients would continue to sleep until Peg got back.

  Peg gathered the supplies she needed while Eli moved the baby, box and all, to a corner of the bedroom.

  Careful not to wake her, he set the box on the floor. The little mouth twitched a few times, and the tiny eyelashes moved, but she settled back to sleep within a few moments. “Hang in there,” he whispered.

  After Peg left, he tossed his hat on a hook by the door, and settled into a nearby rocking chair.

  His eyelids had begun to droop when the woman in the bed stirred. He glanced up to see those golden brown eyes, completely lucid, staring at him.

  Eli introduced himself, hoping she’d do the same, but all she said was, “Where’s the baby?”

  He noticed she didn’t say “my baby.”

  Straightening, Eli cleared his throat, but didn’t get a chance to reply before the woman answered her own question with another one.

  “She didn’t make it, did she?”

  Lips parted to answer, Eli paused. Keeping her in the dark for a while might shed more light on the situation—as long as she kept talking.

  When her eyes filled with tears, and her full lips started trembling, he couldn’t do it.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Maggie.”

  His heart sank at the confirmation of her identity. “The baby’s still alive.”

  Maggie drew in a shaky breath and then rubbed at her eyes, hard, as if to obliterate even the suggestion she’d been about to cry. She glanced around the room. “Where is she?”

  Eli pointed to the box. “She’s sleeping. But we’ll talk about her in a minute. Right now, I’d like to know a little more about you. Where did you come from? How did you get here?”

  A hard knock on the front door brought an abrupt end to his questions, and fear to Maggie’s eyes. Grasping the quilt with both hands, she twisted it between her fingers. “There was a woman here earlier, where is she?”

  Standing and starting towards the door, Eli paused near the foot of the bed. “That was Peg Harmon. She’ll be back in a little while. Peg’s a midwife around these parts and she’s been taking care of the baby, keeping her fed.”

  The woman looked away. “I…I appreciate that. The poor little thing must’ve been starving since…since I haven’t been available to feed her.”

  Odd way to put it. Did she want him to believe she was the baby’s mother? Interesting. “Peg’s mixed up something to feed her for the past two days,” he said, “and the baby’s holding on.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open. “Two days?”

  “I guess it’s only a day and a half. You showed up here yesterday morning, at Martin’s Mercantile. Looking for medicine for the baby. Do you remember any of that?”

  Brow furrowed, she shook her head. “No, the last thing I remember is…” She clamped her lips together, her face draining of color. The memories obviously weren’t pleasant ones.

  “The doctor said you were exhausted,” Eli told her. “Your body sorta shut down. And, of course, there are your injuries. I’m sure those contribu
ted to your collapse.”

  “Yes,” she said, placing a hand to her ribs. He stared at her, willing her to confide in him, but another knock, more of a pounding this time, drew his attention.

  “I guess I’d better see what that’s all about.” Eli paused. Did she have the strength to run? “You stay in here, and keep quiet,” he said, deliberately making his voice more commanding.

  She nodded, eyes huge in her pale face, but there was a spark of something in her expression that hadn’t been there before. Defiance? He was curious, but Peg’s caller was getting impatient.

  The man at the door—short, stocky, dark hair parted in the middle—was a stranger to Eli.

  “Mrs. Harmon isn’t here,” he told the man after a quick nod. “Leave a message and I’ll make sure she gets it.”

  “I’m not looking for her,” the man said, stepping through the door without an invitation. “You’re the one I wanted to talk to, Sheriff. I stopped by the jailhouse first and no one was there, but a man on the street said he’d seen you coming in here.”

  Eli stifled his annoyance at the stranger’s pushiness. “What can I do for you?”

  “My name is Murphy Patterson,” the man said, pulling his suit coat open, “and I’m—“

  The open coat revealed a gun.

  Eli’s own Colt .45 was in his hand and under the stranger’s chin before the man could finish his sentence.

  Patterson gave a startled blink, and swallowed. “I mean you no harm, Sheriff. I was getting a cigar from my pocket. I’m a Pinkerton agent and I’m investigating a disappearance.”

  Eli stared long and hard at the man, then the gun and the silver, shield-shaped badge pinned to his vest before he lowered his weapon and slipped it back into the holster.

  “What can I do for you?” His tone was calm, his expression purposefully blank. He offered no apologies.

  “I’m trying to locate a woman, name of Maggie Radford. Seems she wandered off and her fiancé, Mr. Hollis Anderson, is concerned for her well-being.”

  Eli wasn’t surprised to find out the man was looking for Maggie. He was surprised by the flicker of disappointment when he heard the word “fiancé.” He’d only spoken a handful of words to the woman, and what little he knew about her wasn’t promising. So why did he care?

  None of his confusion was apparent in his response. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, and Mr. Anderson is offering a reward for her safe return.”

  While Patterson talked, Eli made his way to the hall door to close it. He could at least spare Maggie the embarrassment of being discussed by strangers.

  Since the door to the bedroom was ajar as well, Eli got a glimpse of Maggie’s face…and it stopped him in his tracks. She thought he was coming to get her. Her eyes, wide and terror-filled, reminded him of an animal caught in a trap. She pulled the quilt up to her chin, and clutched it as if that fabric could ward off all the evils of the world.

  Eli’s chest tightened when she looked at him, shook her head and silently mouthed, “Please.” He didn’t need to hear her say it, he felt it. The desperation behind that one word was staggering, and he was startled by an overwhelming instinct to protect her.

  Since the minute he’d agreed to serve as sheriff of Moccasin Rock, he had taken his responsibilities to its citizens seriously; but this was different. He understood that sort of desperation.

  The woman closed her eyes and bowed her head. She was praying. Good. She was probably a whole lot better at it than he’d ever be.

  He didn’t want to alert the stranger to her presence, but with his back still to Patterson, Eli gave her a small smile of encouragement. Changing his mind about the door, he left it open a little, confident that the other man couldn’t see her.

  Turning back, Eli asked, “Is the woman ill?”

  Patterson rolled the cigar between his thumb and forefinger. “You might say that. She’s been institutionalized for the past few weeks, for rest and recuperation.”

  Rest and recuperation. Right.

  “How did she manage to wander off from an institution?”

  The detective seemed to choose his words carefully. “There was a fire at the insane asylum over in Fair Haven, and in the ensuing hysteria, Miss Radford disappeared. We want to find her, for her own safety’s sake, but also for others. You see, there’s a possibility she started the fire. She may be dangerous.”

  Patterson struck a match, held it to the end of the cigar, and drew in a breath—while Eli held his. She may have started a fire. That changed things. Should he hand her over? Probably.

  After a moment—a moment filled with thoughts of ugly bruises and desperate pleas—he just couldn’t do it. “Sorry,” he told the man, “can’t help you.”

  “Well, thanks anyway,” Patterson said with a sigh. “If you do happen to run across her I’d appreciate it if you’d hold her here, and then contact me. I’m told her fiancé loves her dearly and he wants to get her the help she needs.”

  “It’s quite a ways from Fair Haven to Moccasin Rock, at least on foot,” Eli said. “I’m assuming that she didn’t have access to transportation. What makes him think she made it this far?”

  “She was on foot,” Patterson confirmed, “but the area near the asylum, some of it heavily-wooded, has been searched thoroughly and there’s no sign of her.”

  Striking out through the woods could explain the woman’s cuts and scratches, not the rest of the damage.

  “And in answer to your question,” the man continued. “Mr. Anderson doesn’t necessarily think she’s here. He knows she could be anywhere. He’s got people searching for her all over this part of the state.”

  Eli whistled softly. “That must be costing him a pretty penny.”

  Patterson shrugged. “From what I understand that’s not a problem for him. Rich man. He’s paying us well for the search, and, as I mentioned, there’s an additional reward for whoever brings her in.”

  Accepting a reward went against the Pinkerton code, but Eli doubted if any of the men would turn it down. And it could be a powerful incentive to make them search more diligently…and do whatever it took to bring Maggie back. What about the baby? Why was there no mention of her?

  “Did anyone die in the fire?” Eli asked.

  “Yes, they found several bodies. It looks like some might have succumbed to smoke.”

  “You’re sure none of them were this Radford woman?”

  “Positive. There were a few patients, but not her. Except for the doctor running the place, the staff made it out fine. Although it was a close call for some of them.”

  Patterson turned around as he reached the door. “I forgot to mention, Miss Radford is five feet, four inches tall, and a little on the thin side. She’s got brown eyes, and long brown hair. I’m not sure how she was dressed when she left there.”

  Eli closed the door behind the Pinkerton agent. “She was dressed in rags and covered in bruises,” he said softly. And somebody’s going to pay for that.

  But first, he had to figure out who was responsible.

  Chapter Five

  Maggie waited, heart pounding. She hadn’t heard the last part of the men’s conversation, but she didn’t figure it was any better than the rest of it.

  She was in trouble. She was grateful the sheriff had denied seeing her, but would he arrest her now that he knew about the fire? Waves of nausea hit as she thought about those who died. And she was responsible for at least one of those deaths.

  The sheriff entered the room. A tall, broad-shouldered, powerfully built man with dark hair and dark eyes, and the most forbidding expression she’d ever seen.

  He lowered himself into the rocking chair, his big frame filling it completely. “Did you hear everything that man said?”

  Maggie swallowed hard. “Most of it. Thank you for not handing me over to him. I can’t go back there.” Was there even a “there” to go back to?

  The sheriff didn’t say anything, and Maggie bit her lip to keep from blurting out t
he whole story. But she couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t only herself she had to think about now. If he arrested her, what would happen to the baby? She couldn’t risk it.

  “Did you start the fire?” the sheriff asked.

  Maggie shook her head. She could tell him that much. “No. But I’m fairly certain I know who did.” Closing her eyes, she fought the memory of the screams echoing up and down the hall. “There was a patient there, Mabel, who’d been committed because she set fire to her home and killed her husband.”

  The sheriff’s gaze sharpened. “Do you think she was trying to kill everyone in the asylum?”

  “No, she was creating a diversion. So I could get the…get my baby out of there. We didn’t belong there.”

  His eyebrows rose. “The baby was born in the asylum?”

  “Yes. I wasn’t sure what Mabel had planned, but when all the commotion began I wrapped the baby up in the first thing I found and ran as fast and far as I could.”

  The sheriff studied her thoughtfully. “The baby isn’t very old. You must’ve been weak from childbirth. I’m surprised that you had the strength to run.”

  Maggie drew in a shaky breath. Careful now. “That’s true. But when you’re terrified—when there’s fire all around—you’d be surprised at what you can find the strength to do.”

  “You have a lot of cuts and scratches, and you even had a thorn in your foot. How did all that happen?”

  “The people at the asylum took my shoes.” At his startled look she explained. “I’m not crazy, or mentally disturbed in any way. I did not belong there. When no one would listen to me, I tried to escape, over and over again. To stop me from trying, they took my shoes and…” Mortified and angry all over again, she waved a hand. “Never mind, let’s just say I had no shoes. When the fire broke out, I rushed from the back of the building and straight toward the woods. Even though my feet were hurting after a few steps, I kept moving.”