“Yes.”
Maggie turned to Mrs. Dunlop. “So why did you ask them to leave?”
“It’s only fair that I get what the house is really worth.”
“If I give you the extra money will you let them stay?”
Immediately Walter started to object, but Eli held his hand up to stop him. He wanted to see where this was going.
Mrs. Dunlop couldn’t quite meet Maggie’s eyes now. Obviously she was still opposed to the Millers as tenants. “No, I will not.”
“Do you have someone else ready to move in?”
“No.”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you tell me the real reason you want them leave.”
“All right, if you want me to spell it out, it’s because she’s a sava…”
Eli wasn’t sure if the woman stopped talking because of his expression, or Maggie’s—she was staring at Mrs. Dunlop as if she had grown horns.
“She’s what?” Maggie said softly.
“You know,” the woman hissed.
“One of God’s children?”
“She’s an Indian,” Mrs. Dunlop sputtered.
Maggie drew in a deep breath, and Eli suspected she was trying to hold on to her temper. He glanced around the room for a frying pan.
“Mrs. Dunlop,” Maggie said, “my first instinct is to tell you how ridiculous you’re being, but I’m not going to do that.”
“Well, I should hope not.”
“You may have reason to mistrust or fear Indians,” Maggie said. “I have no idea what you’ve been through. But I want to ask you one question. Has this particular Indian woman ever done anything to you?”
Mrs. Dunlop’s mouth tightened. “No.”
Eli waited, ready to lend his support to Maggie’s efforts. There seemed to be no need.
She not only saw things logically; she was able to explain them that way.
Both Maggie and Mrs. Dunlop were still talking. Eli realized he’d lost track of the conversation when he looked over to see Mrs. Dunlop with a tiny smile on her face. Or at least an attempt at a smile. Maybe she had a stomach ache. “Okay,” Mrs. Dunlop said. “They can stay.”
As Maggie, Dovie and the landlady went over the new arrangements Walter picked up some of their belongings from the back porch and returned them to the front of the house, a smiling Ruthie by his side. Eli picked up a trunk and followed.
“You okay with how everything worked out?” he asked Walter.
“More than okay,” the young man said. Then he smiled. “Miss Maggie sure is something.”
“Yes, she is.”
Eli thought about how quiet and empty Moccasin Rock would be once Maggie and Lucinda went home.
Why was he working so hard to make sure that happened? She wanted to go, and it was the right thing to do.
Besides, he didn’t know if he really wanted her to stay…or if he wanted her to go.
Could his life get any more confusing?
For over a year Eli had lived in the same town as Abby Horton, and except for noting how pretty she was, never gave her a second thought. Then Caleb came to town, saw the same woman, and fell head over heels.
What was that “something” that drew you to a person? It was more than physical, of that Eli was certain.
But that was about all he was certain of these days.
Chapter Thirty
Eli woke in the middle of the night, troubled, for no specific reason he could determine. Glancing around the cabin he saw nothing unusual, nothing out of place.
Brody? Even as he wondered, he heard the boy sigh and turn over on his bed in the loft. There appeared to be nothing wrong.
So what woke him? He’d gone to sleep easily enough. For a few days after his fight in Fair Haven he’d had trouble sleeping, thanks to multiple bruises, contusions and some other big words that Nathaniel had used.
His brother had fixed him up, bandaged his ribs, and determined that his nose wasn’t broken. So far, Eli had been able to deflect, distract or ignore questions from others.
He had dreaded running into Bliss, figuring the old man would be as concerned as Maggie and his brothers about what happened to him. But once Bliss had done the double-take Eli expected, the man looked like he was trying not to grin. Eli had asked him what was so funny.
“You are,” Bliss said. “As long as the other fellow got a dose of his own medicine.”
“He did.”
“Good. Was it the man who beat on Maggie?”
“Yep.”
Bliss sat up straighter. “Did you kill him?”
“No. But he’s in jail. Probably be there a long time.”
The man nodded and settled back in his chair. “Good enough.”
Now, Eli stared at the ceiling, letting his mind wander. He needed to hurry and get the house finished. He had spent the summer months clearing cactus, mesquite and cedar trees from the land, selling some of the cedar posts, and saving others for future use. Then had come digging and hauling limestone for the exterior walls. Eli was glad he’d pushed on with it. He and Brody couldn’t stay in this cabin forever.
As was often the case these days, it took only a few minutes for his mind to work its way around to Maggie Radford. And the baby. That’s when it hit him. He’d been dreaming about Lucinda’s grandparents. They had come for her, and it had devastated Maggie.
Eli shook his head, trying to clear the image of Maggie’s tear-streaked face. As much as he hated to do it, he had to go see the Chadwicks.
He rearranged his pillow and turned over.
According to what Maggie told Caleb, they were horrible people. What if it wasn’t true? Everything Maggie knew about them had come from Lucy. What if she’d been wrong? Or what if the girl had been deceiving Maggie on purpose, out of revenge?
Eli didn’t want to do it, but he had to go see them. If they came for the child years from now, it would hurt even worse.
According to Caleb, the family lived in Fort Worth. Eli didn’t have a street address, but he had a name and neighborhood, Castle Hills, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to track them down.
He wasn’t sure what he would say once he got there, but he wasn’t going to rest easy until he did. For Maggie and Lucinda’s sake.
Eli caught the first train out the next morning. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going, but he did ask Nathaniel to keep an eye on Brody. Even though the boy had survived on his own for months, Eli didn’t want him to ever have to again.
Once the train reached Fort Worth, the first person he saw was able to give him directions to the Chadwick estate. Estate?
He understood as soon as he saw the place. The house was a fine one, even grander than Maggie Radford’s. In fact, it was a mansion.
If these people were to take the baby, she would never want for a thing. Maggie could also provide for her, Eli reminded himself. And money was definitely not the most important thing when it came to happiness.
The door was opened by a round little man with a British accent and a stiff mustache—covering, no doubt—a stiff upper lip. If he was an indication of what the Chadwicks were like, Eli was dreading the next few minutes even more.
But when the couple was seated across from him a short time later, they were not what he’d expected at all. Instead of the cold, elegant older people he’d imagined, they were warm and friendly, and probably only in their early forties. The wife had a peaches and cream complexion, and striking blond hair held in place by diamond studded combs. Mr. Chadwick was darker, with sandy blond hair. Despite their obvious curiosity about his visit, they were gracious and hospitable.
As much as it pained Eli to admit it to himself, the baby would probably be better off here.
Both Prentice and Dorothy Chadwick wore smiles as they invited Eli to sit down. The smiles faded as soon as he mentioned their son Anthony.
Rising to his feet, Prentice Chadwick motioned to the door. “If that’s the only thing you wanted to see us about, then I’d like for you to
leave.”
Eli stood, but he didn’t leave. He couldn’t.
“Our son Anthony passed away in a tragic accident,” Mrs. Chadwick said quietly.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Eli said. “But I think there’s something you should know. It concerns your grandchild.”
Dorothy Chadwick, who’d started to stand, gave a little cry and collapsed back into her chair.
Her husband regarded Eli silently for several seconds. “Let me save you some time, Sheriff. After I heard about the fire at the asylum, I made some discreet inquiries and learned that the girl who’d made those egregious claims against my son had died in the blaze. So if you’re here to get money from me to support some other child you can forget it.”
“The girl did die,” Eli said, “but not until after the baby was born.”
“What?”
“The baby survived. Your grandchild is alive and well.”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Mr. Chadwick said, “my eldest son, Jerome, and his wife, Sara, will present me with my first grandchild two months from now. That will be the only one to bear the Chadwick name. You can trot pathetic little servant girls through here from now until Christmas, each with a babe in arms, and I will tell you the same thing. I only have one grandchild.”
Anger rolled through Eli in waves. He wanted to grab this disgusting excuse for a human being by the collar and tell him he wasn’t good enough to raise Lucy’s baby. Instead, he said, “Are you willing to put that in writing?”
The man’s brows lifted in surprise.
“There’s someone interested in raising the baby as their own.”
Chadwick shrugged. “If you’ll join me in my office, we’ll get this settled now. But only if you understand that the child will never receive one penny of Chadwick money.”
Eli nodded.
The man never even glanced in the direction of his wife. Eli did. He waited for a moment before following her husband, giving Mrs. Chadwick an opportunity to object. She said nothing.
Prentice Chadwick was talking on one of those new-fangled telephones when Eli entered the office, demanding that his attorney drop everything and appear at once.
Fifteen minutes later a nervous little man rushed in with a leather satchel under one arm and his hat in the other. He was followed by two other men in much the same state.
They didn’t even look at Eli, and he was glad. He didn’t want to associate with them, and he didn’t want to be here one second longer than need be.
Eli listened with disgust and disbelief, as the solicitor and Mr. Chadwick drafted a document signing over any interest in an unnamed child, possible issue of Anthony Chadwick, born at the Fair Haven Lunatic Asylum to Lucy Gray, in exchange for no money changing hands, and no use of the Chadwick name.
At one point, Prentice muttered something about nobody being able to prove the baby’s parentage anyway.
“Don’t you even want to know who’s going to raise the baby?” Eli asked.
“No, I have no interest in the matter whatsoever.”
The whole transaction was completed within the hour and Eli left Prentice Chadwick’s office hoping he’d never lay eyes on the man again.
Eli was outside on the porch when Mrs. Chadwick slipped through the front door behind him. After one nervous glance over her shoulder, she looked at Eli and whispered, “Was it a boy or girl?”
“A little girl.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “A girl. Oh my. Is she okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Feeling sick all over again, Eli braced himself for the worst. “Do you have any qualms about what your husband is doing?”
“In the long run it’s for the best.” She pressed a handkerchief to her eyes. “After all, what would I say to my friends? I could never live with the shame of a grandchild born to a servant girl.”
A mixture of relief and revulsion hit Eli. This woman was every bit as vile as her husband.
“I only wanted to make sure she was all right,” Mrs. Chadwick said.
“She’s perfectly fine, and in the best possible hands.” Eli meant that with all his heart.
His mind and conscience was clear as he headed home, even though he worried about Maggie’s reaction. Would she be angry with him for interfering? Or would she be glad that the situation was resolved? Probably a little of both.
He intended on going straight to Peg’s house from the train station, but Bliss was waiting for him with a troubled expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a kid missing,” Bliss said.
Fear hit Eli like a blow. Had someone shown up and taken Lucinda while he was in Fort Worth? Had Hollis Anderson figured out a way to get to Maggie through the baby?
Before he could ask, Bliss said, “She’s the daughter of one of those fellows you locked up for breaking into the mercantile.”
Ruthie.
Chapter Thirty-One
Maggie shivered, more from dread than the cold. Even inside the schoolhouse, the baying of hounds could be heard from a distance, along with muffled shouts of the searchers calling Ruthie’s name.
Please be with her, Lord. Keep her safe. Guide those looking for her. Tears stung Maggie’s eyes as she picked up a coffee pot and made her way around the room; holding the pot high overhead as she pushed through the crowd.
People came in to report on areas they’d searched, and warm up for a few minutes, drink a quick cup of coffee and head back out.
Maggie recognized many of the faces from around town—including the owners of the store, the livery stable, and the newspaper—having met some of them on her walks with Eli, and others in church. Still, she’d had to beg Eli to let her help. He was concerned about Hollis Anderson grabbing her. He’d finally relented when she promised not to leave the schoolhouse on her own.
Maggie’s hopeful gaze swung toward the door as it opened, as did all others. It was the owner of the local eatery bringing in more food. Both Bony Joe and Mrs. Dunlop had been generous with their offerings, although Myrtle Dunlop had made a big show of taking food directly to Dovie.
Maggie wasn’t sure who the woman was trying to impress with her gesture. Maybe just herself. She’d seemed genuinely stunned by Maggie’s comments about her un-Christian behavior. And there was no doubt that the food was appreciated and needed. It wasn’t up to her to guess at Mrs. Dunlop’s intentions. Dovie didn’t seem to notice anyway. She stared at the door, eyes huge, and seemed to sag a little more with each negative shake of the head from searchers.
As several of those inside fastened their coats, tightened scarves, and pulled on hats in preparation of returning to the search, another team came inside to warm up. Maggie filled cups and mugs and thrust them into eager hands.
“Would you like some coffee?” she said to one man who had his back to her. “Or something to eat?”
Caleb Calhoun turned, his face lighting in recognition when he saw her. “Yes, to the coffee,” he said.
A lanky young man with blond hair and brown eyes stood beside Caleb, hands stretched toward the stove. Maggie pointed to the coffee pot. “How about you?” she asked.
The man gave her a shy smile. “Sure, thanks.”
“Maggie, this is my friend, Henry Barnett,” Caleb said, before glancing around the room. “And that’s his wife, Jenna, over there beside my wife, Abby.”
There was something about the way Caleb’s expression softened when he said the name Abby that tugged at Maggie’s heart. She yearned to bring that look to a man’s face someday.
Although Eli had looked at her lovingly recently, she mustn’t forget that he was pretending. And she didn’t want Hollis Anderson looking at her with any kind of expression.
“I met Abby,” Maggie said. “She was kind enough to bring me some clothing and other things I needed.”
“Good,” Caleb said. “If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I sure do appreciate it.”
The d
oor opened again, and all eyes turned. It was the deputy, Bliss. He shook his head at their unasked question.
Maggie took him some coffee.
“Would you like some food?” she asked.
“No, I’m headed back out in a minute.”
Maggie’s gaze was drawn again to Dovie, huddled in a corner, nearly folded in on herself. The distraught mother had tried more than once to join the search, but Walter was worried that something would happen to her.
The door opened again, and Maggie got a glimpse of several men gathered together near the front of the school, Eli among them. He hadn’t been in yet.
Taking the coffee pot with her, she grabbed a few empty cups and stepped outside, gasping as the cold bit into her. Abby Calhoun followed her out with more coffee and cups. Another group of men had returned, and both women filled cups as fast as they could, Maggie’s eyes repeatedly drawn to the lanterns and torches flickering across the countryside. Please Lord, let them find her.
Maggie’s gaze landed on Eli. She took a cup of coffee to him. Her hand brushed his, and it was like ice. She couldn’t imagine what little Ruthie was going through.
“Any word at all?” she whispered to him.
He wrapped his hands around the cup, and took a sip of the hot brew before shaking his head. “No, and the longer this takes, the worse it looks.” His voice was hoarse from shouting, and she leaned in to hear him.
He took another sip, but before he could say anything else, a man hurried toward him from the wooded area between the river and the school. Walter Miller.
“We haven’t found her yet,” Eli said. “I came in to check with the others, I’m headed back out now.”
Walter ran a hand over his eyes, lips quivering. “It’s not looking good, is it Sheriff?”
Eli glanced down at the ground, then patted the man on the back. “Don’t you give up. We’re not. Keep looking, keep praying.”
“I will. Thank you, Sheriff. I’m going inside to talk to Dovie for a minute. Then I’m heading out again.”
Eli turned to another man who’d walked up. “You see anything out there, Adger?”
Maggie didn’t know the man, but she knew the name. This was the man with all the children, and the livestock that escaped to roam the town. Despite the animal escapades, most everyone had referred to the man fondly, and she’d gotten the impression that he was normally a cheerful sort of fellow. Not now.
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