This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2007 by Dorothy Garlock
All rights reserved.
Warner Books
Hachette Book Group USA
237 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10017
Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroupUSA.com.
First eBook Edition: January 2007
ISBN: 978-0-7595-1639-7
Contents
Dear Readers
Maggie Calls
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Dear Readers:
On my book covers, Warner calls me “The Voice of America’s Heartland.” I am truly a product of the heartland. I was born in Texas, grew up in Oklahoma, and now live in Iowa. For fourteen years I worked as a newspaper reporter covering births, weddings, and deaths. Then I retired with my husband to travel by trailer from the Canadian border to the Yucatan peninsula, solving crossword puzzles all the way.
All icing and no cake becomes boring after a while, so I began writing my first book in 1977. I was interested then, as I am now, in the men and women of the frontier and the people who faced hardships during the Great Depression. Three decades later, I still find writing great fun—manipulating characters into perilous or romantic situations, even killing them off if they get too ornery. And I’m pleased to say that I’ve infected my talented grandson with the writer’s bug.
On this “golden” occasion of the publication of my 50th book, I want to thank all of you for reading my books. You have traveled with me and my characters from early frontier days, the years of the expansion of pioneers into the Midwest, across Route 66 to California and points in between. I have counted on your loyalty, and you have given it. No author could ask for more.
Sincerely,
BOOKS BY DOROTHY GARLOCK
After the Parade
Almost Eden
Annie Lash
Dreamkeepers
Dream River
The Edge of Town
Forever Victoria
A Gentle Giving
Glorious Dawn
High on a Hill
Homeplace
Hope’s Highway
Larkspur
The Listening Sky
Lonesome River
Love and Cherish
Midnight Blue
More than Memory
Mother Road
Nightrose
A Place Called Rainwater
Restless Wind
Ribbon in the Sky
River Rising
River of Tomorrow
The Searching Hearts
Sins of Summer
Song of the Road
Sweetwater
Tenderness
This Loving Land
Train from Marietta
Wayward Wind
Wild Sweet Wilderness
Wind of Promise
Wishmakers
With Heart
With Hope
With Song
Yesteryear
This book is for Adam, my grandson, who loves books as much as I do.
MAGGIE CALLS
Where the lake shines gold in the setting sun,
Where the pines loom dark when the day is done,
Here I struggle and strain at the ties that bind me.
Will someone hear my call? Will someone find me?
Yesterday I laughed at my sister’s fear.
But now harsh men have bound me here
Demanding I tell what I do not know.
Oh, sister, come for the light grows low.
Beg the man I know you secretly cherish
To search for me before I perish
I can’t work loose. I cannot cope.
The night is black. I’m losing hope . . .
—F.S.I.
Prologue
NONA LOOKED DOWN AT THE PACKAGE Mr. Dryden had given her.
“I wasn’t expecting a package.”
“It was delivered by the postman about an hour ago,” Mr. Dryden explained, running a hand through his thinning gray hair. During the six months that they had been neighbors, he had always been very cordial. “When I heard someone pounding on your door, I went out into the hallway. After I’d told him that you wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours, he asked if I’d give you this package.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dryden. We’ve been so busy getting ready to move that no one is ever home. I’m sorry you were bothered with this.”
“I was glad to do it. I’m going to miss my good neighbors when you go.”
The inside of Nona’s apartment was dark. Mabel was out doing some last-minute shopping while Maggie visited friends one last time before they left. Walking among the boxes that held their meager belongings, Nona wondered if she and Maggie would ever settle down in one place and stay.
After flipping on a light, she gave the strange package a closer examination. She tried to make out a return address, but the writing was smeared.
I haven’t ordered anything. She opened the heavily taped package only to discover another package inside with a letter addressed to her taped to the top. Pulling off the letter, she opened it and to her amazement discovered it was from her half-brother, Harold. She quickly scanned the contents of the letter then slowly read it again with a puzzled look on her face.
Dear Nona,
I know that we have not kept in close contact these past years and, for that, I am sorry. However, I have a favor to ask. Please keep this package until you hear from me. I beg of you . . . DO NOT OPEN IT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!
Regardless of how you feel about me, I do care deeply for you and Maggie. You are the only person that I feel I can trust. I will explain everything soon. For the sake of our father, I’m asking you to do this for me. I promise that I will have your money and Maggie’s from our father’s estate soon.
Your brother,
Harold
Now he’s my brother. Other times he’s called himself our half-brother.
Nona stood in the quiet of her apartment and puzzled over the strange letter. Simply hearing from Harold was an event; most times he wouldn’t give her or Maggie the time of day. She was tempted to tear open the package and find out what was in it, but she resisted and buried it deep in the bottom of the suitcase.
It would come with her to Tall Pine Camp.
Mr. Dryden answered the knock on his door to find two men standing in the hall. Both were well dressed: button-down shirts, crisp pants, and shiny shoes. The older of the pair, bald with a thick black mustache, smiled thinly. His younger partner stayed silent at his side.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the bald man began. “We’re from the Postal Department and are tracing a package that was delivered to this address. I’m afraid the carrier forgot to
have someone sign for it. You know how fussy the government can be about these little things.” He laughed easily.
“You mean the package that came yesterday for Miss Conrad?”
“That’s the one.”
“She wasn’t at home when the postman came, so he asked me to hold on to it until she returned. I never signed for it. I gave it to Miss Conrad as soon as she got home.”
“At least she got it. That’s what’s important.”
“It’s a good thing that it came when it did,” Mr. Dryden continued, “what with her taking the job of managing a camp at Tall Pine Lake. They left this morning.”
“You don’t say,” the bald man said as he raised one eyebrow. “Tall Pine Lake? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a beautiful place up in the Ozarks. You should visit sometime. There’s fishing, hunting, and boating.”
“How far is it from here?”
“I don’t rightly know.”
“Thank you, sir. You’ve been a big help. The United States Government appreciates it.”
The two men got into their car, and the bald-headed man slapped the steering wheel with his palm. “What do you think? Pretty slick, huh? I told you that blood was thicker than water and that he’d send it to her.”
“Sure looks that way,” the younger man admitted. “We’ll have to call Chicago and let them know what we’ve found out.”
“I know just what the boss will say.”
“What’s that?”
The bald-headed man’s chuckle was dry and without humor. “He’ll say it’s time to do a little huntin’.”
Chapter 1
Home, Arkansas, 1980
EXCUSE ME.” Nona had come out of the small grocery store carrying two heavy sacks of groceries and run head-on into a man coming into the business. She hadn’t hit him hard, but she felt the red sting of embarrassment just the same. Glancing up quickly, she saw that he was definitely a city man. He didn’t look like a person who belonged in Home, Arkansas.
His clothes were expensive, certainly too new to have been worn long, unlike those of most men in town, who wore faded work clothes that had seen many washings. His head was bald, but the black mustache on his upper lip was thick. Nona wondered why bald men were compelled to have hair on their faces. It was hard to tell if he was young or old. The coldness of his dark eyes unnerved her. Her mind absorbed these impressions in a few seconds. She hadn’t realized that she’d been staring until he reached out and grabbed her by the arm.
“Apology accepted,” he mumbled through uneven teeth. Even from those two words, Nona could hear an accent, but one that she couldn’t place. With an expanding smile, the man added, “You’re Mrs. Conrad, aren’t you?”
“No,” she answered, “I’m Miss Conrad.”
“I was told you managed the camp at Tall Pine Lake. My friend and I are looking for a place to fish. Do you have a vacancy?”
“Not for a couple of weeks.” The words came out of Nona’s mouth before she’d given them any thought. Even though most of the cabins were currently empty, something unpleasant about the man prompted her to lie.
“That’s too bad,” he said.
His eyes began to roam across her body before settling on her breasts. “But then it might be worth waiting for.” The thumb on the hand that held her arm began to move across her skin in a caressing motion. Suddenly angry, Nona tried to jerk her arm away, but the man’s grip tightened.
“Let go.” Her voice was loud and strong. She felt a quiver of fear and looked around to see if anyone was near. Her hopes leapt as she saw a deliveryman carrying a large box coming her way.
But before she could call to him, the strange man abruptly released her arm, stepped back, and opened the door for the deliveryman, who quickly disappeared inside the store. Nona feared that the stranger would grab her again, but instead he said gruffly, “I’ll be seeing you, Miss Conrad.” With that, he turned and walked away.
For a moment, she stood frozen in front of the store. He knew my name!
Shaking the thought loose, Nona hurried to her car. Bright sunlight bathed the small town, and the first hint of the July heat hung in the air. The leaves of the tall maple and oak trees fluttered in the light breeze.
As she moved down the sidewalk, Nona caught sight of her reflection in the large window of the hardware store. Mr. Finnegan’s window was full of saws, hammers, nails, and even an antique cast-iron stove, looking out of season in the warming weather. Amid all the clutter, there was still enough space for her to clearly see herself, a slim woman with a mop of fiery red curly hair that floated around her face like a halo. It was what drew people’s eyes to her. She wore slacks and a tucked-in shirt. Nona thought of herself as only passably pretty. Although small, she appeared taller because she carried herself proudly. She considered her large sky-blue eyes her best feature. They sparkled when she was angry or extremely happy. She had a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose. When she was younger, she had hated her red hair, but now she had to either accept it or dye it, and she didn’t want the bother of that. She had grown used to being called “that redhead.”
Nona finally reached her car, a ten-year-old Ford, dust-covered from its travels down the dirt roads. When she moved to open the driver’s door, she was startled to find another hand there before hers. In that split second, her heart sank at the thought that the strange man had followed her. But when she looked up, she found the bright eyes of a tall cowboy in a battered Stetson and a faded plaid shirt.
“Ma’am.” A smile lit the man’s handsome, sun-browned face. “A pretty woman shouldn’t be carrying such a load.”
“That’s all right. My husband will be here shortly,” Nona said defensively.
“He’s a lucky man,” the friendly cowboy said as he opened the car door. “But until he gets here, let me help.” Nona placed her bags on the seat and pushed them across to the other side. After she got into the car and slid under the wheel, the man shut the door behind her and stood at the open window.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Good day, ma’am.” He smiled warmly as he put his fingers to his hat brim. His grin was contagious; Nona couldn’t help but return the smile.
She started the car, put it in reverse, and began to back out. The loud blast of a horn caused her to slam her foot down on the brake. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, Nona saw the deliveryman frown at her before driving his truck past her and down the street. Damn that bald-headed man! He’s got me rattled. When the road was clear behind her, she eased out and drove out of town.
Home, Arkansas, was a small town at the foot of the Ozark Mountains in the southwestern part of the state, the main supply hub for a twenty-square-mile area. Home had received its unlikely name more than a hundred years earlier when a travel-weary family from Ohio paused to spend the night along a clear stream. The man looked around, liked what he saw, and declared, “We’re home.”
The town now consisted of only two rows of business buildings lining a main street: the grocery store, hardware store, barbershop, pool hall, gun shop, and two cafes, Alice’s Diner and the Grizzly Bear Tavern, where a man could get nearly anything that he wanted to drink. Nona had learned all of this when she and Maggie came to town to attend the Baptist church, a small clapboard building that sat on the edge of town. Church was the ideal place to catch up on the local gossip.
The Ozark Mountains loomed over a wild and unsettled terrain. The merchants in Home depended on hunters, fishermen, and campers for their livelihood, and the region drew them in droves. But this was not only a haven for hunters; hippies had also been settling here for the last ten years. The town was usually peaceful until sunset, when the roughnecks came to town and the bar was crowded to overflowing. Nona was becoming fond of Home and its wooded surroundings.
She drove east along a road that snaked through a heavily wooded area. The sound of the car’s tires crunching over loose stone echoed off the looming pines that lined both sides of
her route. She had traveled this road at least once a week since she and Maggie, her sister, had come to manage the camp, and had never been nervous about traveling it, but now, for some reason, she was uneasy as she drove away from town. Was it that the bald-headed man had held on to her arm so tightly? The encounter bothered her more than she was willing to admit. She would feel more comfortable when she made it to the turnoff to the camp. A little afraid but determined, Nona concentrated on her driving.
After a couple of miles, Nona became aware of a black car coming up quickly from behind her. In the rearview mirror, she could see a truck behind the car. It was probably old Mr. Wilson, who lived on the other side of the lake. He was almost eighty years old. Fearfully, Nona gripped the wheel. There was nothing along this lonely stretch until she came to the camp. She kept her eyes on the road and waited.
Checking the side mirror, she was surprised to see the car pull out to pass her! Tapping lightly on the brakes to keep from spinning out of control, Nona saw that the driver was the bald man who had grabbed her arm at the store. The black car passed her and barreled on down the road. The man in the passenger seat hadn’t even glanced at her. The car rounded a bend and was soon out of sight. For the next several miles, Nona kept expecting to see the car blocking the road, the man out, a gun in his hand.
Nona rounded an easy curve in the road and came within sight of Tall Pine Camp. She could not remember it ever looking so inviting. The manager’s house itself wasn’t much; it was the largest of the buildings but was otherwise identical to the seven other cabins set back from Tall Pine Lake. All of the buildings were roomy and painted a crisp green. As she turned onto the lane leading to the cabins, Nona was proud of what she saw. With Maggie’s help she had cleaned away the brush and clipped the hedges from around the cabins.
Approaching the three-room house she shared with her sister and Mabel Rogers, a longtime friend, Nona surveyed the camp grounds. A battered old house trailer sat near the lake. Russell Story, the old man who lived in the trailer, had been hired by the owner to take care of the boats and the bait for the camp. He also cleaned, filleted, and packed the fish in ice for the camp guests. Mabel had won him over with her apple pie, and in return he kept them well supplied with fresh fish.
On Tall Pine Lake Page 1