The Loyal Heart

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “You think so?”

  Monroe shrugged. “There’s only so much one man can take before he gives in to emotions he usually tries to keep in better control.” He paused. “That’s when prayer comes in handy, I think.”

  After Robert tethered his mount, he steeled his shoulders and walked to the front door. Winifred had been extremely agitated when she discovered he and Devin planned to visit Mrs. Markham’s in-laws that morning.

  Though the housekeeper didn’t say it, he had a sneaking suspicion that she feared those women would hurt his feelings. He didn’t know whether he should be touched that she thought he possessed delicate feelings or simply be amused that she was hoping to protect him.

  Now, though, it was time to get some answers and get back to her. He rapped his knuckles on the door twice.

  “It will be fine, Truax,” Captain said as they heard a quiet rustling on the other side of the door.

  “I know. I just want to help her.”

  “You will. Once more, don’t forget—no matter what happens, the future is already in God’s hands. He knows what was meant to be.”

  Robert replayed that sentiment over and over again as Viola herself opened the door and stared at him and the captain as if they were thieving carpetbaggers intending to fleece them out of their life savings.

  “You,” she bit out. “What are you doing here?”

  Ironically, her foul greeting made his mission easier. “Good morning to you, too, ma’am. I came to speak to you about Miranda.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I beg to differ,” Captain Monroe blurted as he walked right in, ignoring the small push on the door as he strode forward. “I have traveled a fair distance to speak to you and your mother. I intend to do just that.”

  Viola blanched. “Excuse me, but you may not barge into my home like you own it.”

  Her words rankled Robert to no end. “Tell me now what you said when Miranda told you that same thing.”

  “She never dared to say anything of the sort,” Ruth Markham announced as she appeared from one of the back rooms. “She knew better than to speak to me with such disrespect.”

  Captain Monroe looked at her coolly. “Where may we sit?”

  “We will not be leaving until we’ve gotten the answers we’ve come for,” Robert advised. “How long we stay is up to you.”

  While her mother looked as if she was actually tempted to argue, Viola sighed. “Come into the drawing room. We’ll conduct our business there.” Then she turned and started down the short and narrow hallway.

  After a brief second, her mother followed, her uneven gait looking painful even to Robert’s untrained eye.

  When they were alone in the entryway, Devin looked his way and smiled. “It seems the manner to deal with these women has been solved. We simply need to be direct, blunt, and if all else fails, rude.”

  “Agreed.” He realized there had been a grain of hope that the women would be cordial enough to speak to him in an easy and open manner. It was obvious now that he hadn’t been more wrong.

  It made him sick to think that Miranda had been dealing with them all by herself for years now. They were thoroughly unpleasant.

  Once all four of them took their seats in the small room that was filled with doilies, knickknacks, area rugs, heavy drapes, and an excessive amount of cat hair, Devin looked directly at the women.

  “Even though you have not asked, I would like to introduce myself. I am Devin Monroe. I was Phillip’s captain during his last two years of service in the army.”

  Ruth’s expression softened. “He spoke of you often, Captain. He idolized you.”

  “I hope not. I was only his commanding officer,” he said modestly. “However, I will tell you I thought very highly of your son. He was a good man, a good lieutenant, and above all, a true gentleman of the South. It was an honor to have known him.”

  “But he still died while in your care,” Viola blurted.

  “Phillip was not a child, ma’am,” Robert replied. “Furthermore, he was suffering the effects of a gunshot wound. It festered while in captivity. There was nothing we could do.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “There was nothing anyone could have done. Like too many others to count, the Lord had decided it was his time to die.”

  Ruth’s face pinched. “Sir—”

  “We did not come all this way to discuss old injuries or Phillip’s death,” Devin smoothly intervened. “We want to know who is behind the letters to Miranda.”

  “What letters?” Ruth said.

  “The threatening ones,” Robert said. “The letters that disparage her marriage, her character, and her very self. The letters that come frequently. The letters that tell her to move.”

  Ruth frowned. “I have no knowledge of such things.”

  Captain Monroe eyed Viola carefully. “And you, ma’am? Do you have any knowledge of them?”

  “I am not sure.”

  “I did not ask a difficult question,” Robert said, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

  Viola shook her head. “Perhaps, but still . . .”

  “I saw the last one,” Robert pushed. “It was not only vicious in content, but poorly written. Were you not able to have access to a good education, Miss Markham?”

  Viola’s face flushed. “I had a proper education. Just as Phillip did. I did not write letters such as the ones Miranda received.”

  Captain grinned. “So you actually do know about them, yes?”

  Viola looked from her mother to Robert to Captain Monroe. Then, finally, she nodded. “I know about them,” she whispered.

  “You know more than that,” Captain Monroe pressed. “If you did not write the letters, did you feed the information to the person who did?”

  “I fail to see why any of this matters to you.”

  “A good woman has been tormented by them.”

  “You are painting a picture of Miranda that simply isn’t true. She is far from being helpless, sir.”

  “Then let us make no mistake about this. I am not a helpless woman.” He hardened his voice. “I expect you to answer me. Immediately.”

  “Mother, are you going to let him make such accusations against me?”

  Ruth took a moment, then said, “I, too, would like to hear the truth about these letters, Viola. Speak.”

  A hand flew up to her chest. After several shaky breaths, Viola whispered, “I . . . I may have told him some things.”

  Robert leapt on that pronoun. “Him?”

  Viola closed her eyes. From the position of her body, it was obvious that she was hoping the men would feel sorry for her circumstances and desist.

  But Robert had no intention of backing down. “Who is he?”

  “I shouldn’t say.”

  Captain Monroe eyed her with a dark expression. “Oh, you should, ma’am.”

  Viola looked toward her mother. “Mother, say something.”

  Ruth, in contrast to her daughter, looked deflated. It was as if she was coming to terms with how their efforts to drive Miranda away sounded in the light of day and she wasn’t proud of it. At all. “Viola, what have you done?”

  “Nothing!” She leapt to her feet. “I only did what had to be done.” She waved a hand. “Look at where we are living, Mother. At how we are living. We shouldn’t be here. We should be in our home. In the home I was born in. In the house you raised me in!”

  “I know that. But I didn’t think you would have resorted to such tactics. It is most unbecoming.”

  “I need the name of the man,” Devin said, his voice as hard and as unflinching as steel. “Now.”

  “Tell him, Viola,” Ruth said. “You will not get any sympathy from me. Writing threatening letters is beneath us.”

  “Mamma—”

  “Now, if you please,” Captain Monroe said.

  Viola glared at him, then exhaled, looking like her mother’s twin. “Kyle Winter.”

  Robert surged to
his feet. “So that worm of a bank clerk wrote these letters? The sheriff and I have suspected him. But why? Why do this?”

  “Because his brother was killed at the Battle of the Wilderness.”

  Captain Monroe shrugged. “So were thousands of brave men. How was that Miranda Markham’s fault?”

  “Mr. Winter said Phillip told secrets about the South, maybe about the North too. Someone who was at Johnson’s Island with Phillip told him so. He caused the fight to go so badly against the Confederacy.”

  Captain Monroe shook his head. “Winter was either misinformed or made that up. Phillip was . . . no traitor. He did not betray the C.S.A. You have my word on that.”

  Viola shook her head. “No, that isn’t right. Kyle said the Union troops were too overwhelming in that battle. He was sure they knew too much about our soldiers’ plans and strategies.” Her voice rose. “He said there was no way they would have so soundly trounced our boys if not for Phillip’s betrayal.”

  Robert shook his head. “Phillip did not betray us. We were out-funded, out-manned, and out-gunned. The Union army had almost twice as many men.” He sighed, hating what he was about to say but unwilling to lie. “By the time that battle was fought, the South’s loss was all but a certainty. The fact is that we were losing the war even then.”

  Mrs. Markham raised her voice. “The South had not fallen.”

  “No, ma’am, but many factors were against us. And even if not, please believe me when I tell you that Phillip did not cause the rout.”

  Viola stared at him mulishly. “His brother still died.”

  “So did my brother!” Captain Monroe snapped. “So did half of America’s brothers. It was war. It was terrible. It was bloody. But it was not Phillip Markham’s fault.”

  Viola’s eyes widened. She looked to be completely at a loss for words. “You sound so sure.”

  “I am sure,” Monroe retorted. “But what I don’t understand is your reasoning.”

  “Mine?”

  “Yes, Miss Markham. What I want to know is why you didn’t stand up for him.”

  She froze. “I tried.”

  “I don’t think so.” Staring at her intently, he asked, “Why didn’t you stand up for your brother’s memory? Even if you weren’t close, he was your own flesh and blood.”

  Instead of answering, Viola colored and put her head down.

  And it was Ruth who replied. “I believe I have the answer, gentlemen,” she said, her voice flat. All trace of fire had disappeared.

  “I did not know about the letters, nor that the hurtful rumors about my son”—she turned to stare at Viola—“came from Mr. Winter with Viola’s knowledge. And while I do not care about that woman still living in the home my late husband built for me, I am dismayed that my own daughter betrayed Phillip’s memory by helping Mr. Winter with these tactics.”

  Ruth straightened her shoulders before going on. “I am, however, certain I know the reason for her actions. Kyle Winter promised Viola if and when Miranda returned the house to us, she would be living there as his wife.”

  Incredulous, Robert turned to Viola.

  “You agreed to Winter’s plans in order to get married?”

  “He said he loved me.” She shook her head. “No, he does love me.”

  “He doesn’t love you,” Devin said. “Love isn’t full of conditions or threaded with threats and pain. He was using you. I would be surprised if he even ever intended to marry you at all.”

  “You are wrong,” Viola whispered. “You are all wrong.”

  “Believe that if you must,” Captain Monroe said, his voice flat. “However, we both know if you believe that, you are lying to yourself.”

  “There’s more,” Ruth said. “I have also suspected that, rather than truly interested in marriage to Viola, Winter has desired the mansion itself. It’s quite valuable, you know. And now that I know what he has done, I can see no better way for him to avenge his brother’s supposed betrayal than to take over all Phillip’s family has left. But I fear I have been turning a blind eye in my desire to return to my home and be rid of my son’s wife.”

  Robert looked to his captain. “We have what we came for. I suggest we leave.”

  “I agree.”

  “Wait!” Ruth called out as she struggled to her feet. “What is going to happen to us now?”

  “I have no earthly idea.”

  “Are you going to tell the sheriff?”

  “Of course,” Robert answered.

  “But we are her family.”

  “I don’t see how it matters,” Devin replied. “You have already made your choices, you have been party to blackmail, and you will be answering for your actions for years to come and for eternity.”

  “You don’t understand,” Viola cried out. “We deserve . . . we need—”

  “You need compassion and forgiveness and trust,” Robert bit out as he slapped his hat back on his lap. “I suggest you begin searching for those things again. In the meantime, if you so much as glance in Miranda’s direction, I will make sure you will be brought to Sheriff Kern.”

  Ruth had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Kern. He is no one. He has no power at all.”

  “That, Mrs. Markham, is about to change,” Captain Monroe said before bowing slightly, leading the way out the door of the drawing room, and heading outside.

  Robert followed, glad they had several hours before they were going to have the opportunity to face Kyle Winter. Robert knew without a doubt if the man walked in front of him at that moment . . . well, those would be the last pain-free steps he’d walk in months.

  As far as he was concerned, it was past time for the man to get a taste of what it had been like to walk in Miranda Markham’s shoes.

  23

  THE MEN HAD LEFT EARLY THAT MORNING. HOURS LATER, Miranda learned they’d asked her staff for directions to Viola and Ruth’s home.

  Miranda was mystified why the men hadn’t asked her about the women or for directions. After all, she had been to their home several times, though only when Phillip had been home on leave. Had they worried about upsetting her? Were they planning to visit other locales besides that house? Or was it simply a matter of them not wanting Miranda to be present when they spoke to Viola and Ruth?

  Especially because she had no idea what they thought the two women could tell them about her troubles, other than their own desire for her to leave this house, Miranda hoped Robert and Captain Monroe hadn’t wanted her present when they talked to the ladies. Because, quite frankly, she had no desire to be around the women ever again. They were callous and selfish, and she’d had enough of their difficult dispositions for a lifetime.

  Now that she had support and the dark depression that had hovered around her psyche for months had at last lifted, Miranda felt renewed. Instead of sitting and worrying, she was eager to do things again. To make plans for her future. To live. For the first time since she’d moved in, she was thinking about doing some redecorating. The idea of pulling down some of the old velvet drapes that hung over almost every window and sew some new, lighter curtains was appealing. Actually, the idea of working on any project for the house was as tempting to her as candy had to be to a small child.

  With that in mind, Miranda slipped on an easy-fitting calico day dress and concentrated on work. A new guest had arrived just a few hours ago. She was an elderly lady, the mother of a ship’s first mate or some such. She wanted to spend some time with her boy while he was in port.

  The idea of the woman coming so far to spend a few precious hours with her son made Miranda smile. Perhaps that was the silver lining after spending so many years under war’s thumb. No one took family or time spent with them for granted.

  At that moment she remembered what she had told Robert after the two women’s last visit. That she would let them know she would always look out for them. And she would, because that was what Phillip would have wanted.

  After knocking on the guest’s door and making sure she had everything she
needed, she decided to sort through some of Phillip’s favorite books. She had only begun when she heard a knock at the door.

  Hoping it was Robert and Captain Monroe—perhaps they left their keys?—she rushed to the door. But instead of spying the two men she was coming to trust implicitly, she came face-to-face with a tall, extremely handsome man with a military bearing.

  The moment he gazed at her, he smiled.

  His smile was a beautiful thing. Straight, white teeth, framed by high cheekbones and a solid jaw. “You are Miranda.”

  She nodded. “I am Miranda Markham. However, I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. May I help you?”

  He removed his hat. “My name is Ethan Kelly. I served with your husband, Phillip. I am actually looking for two gentlemen I believe are staying here. Robert Truax and Captain Monroe. Are they here, by any chance?”

  There was something unique in the way he spoke. Maybe it was his cadence? He spoke in starts and stops. Maybe it was the way he was staring intently at her, as if a cannon could go off behind him and he wouldn’t pay it any mind.

  Suddenly, she knew who he was. Just as he did with Captain Monroe, Phillip had described him well. “You’re Major Kelly, aren’t you?”

  “I was. However, I’m plain old Mr. Kelly now.”

  His smile was so warm, she felt as if she were greeting an old friend. “Please, do come in, Major Kelly.” The moment she ushered him inside and closed the door, she held out her hand. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance. I feel like I am greeting another old friend. Phillip spoke so highly of all of you.”

  His brown eyes softened. “He was an excellent man. And he certainly thought the world of you.”

  “I’m beginning to realize that. Robert and Captain Monroe said much the same thing. He . . . well, he was a very good husband.”

  After taking his coat, she offered him a seat in the parlor. She was about to ask if she could call for tea or coffee or a light repast when Belle rushed forward.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to get the door, ma’am,” she said. “I went out to run some errands for Cook and lost track of time.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. I don’t mind answering the door from time to time.” Smiling in Major Kelly’s direction, she said, “Especially to friends.”