Considering the moldy cheese, stale bread, and grimy table, the old lady was closer to the truth than she probably knew.
She looked at Maggie, and this time her eyes were clear and focused. “What did you say your name was, dearie?”
That night over supper, Maggie told Garrett about her visit to Linc’s house. She was so incensed by what she’d found there, she pushed Rikker’s warning to be careful to the back of her mind.
“I don’t understand why someone hasn’t stepped in and helped them. The church—”
As soon as she said it, she regretted her words. Garrett already thought poorly of organized religion. “There must be something that can be done.”
“I had no idea that things were that bad,” he said. He looked every bit as concerned as she felt.
Bad didn’t begin to describe the poor conditions of the house. “Would you mind if I gave Linc some of Toby’s outgrown clothes?” Toby was large for his age, and though his clothes might be a tad too small for Linc, they were better than anything the boy currently owned.
“That’s a good idea. I’m sure Toby won’t mind, will you, son?”
Toby shook his head. “Long as you don’t give away my thinking cap.”
“I can give Linc one of my dolls,” Elise offered.
“Boys don’t play with dolls,” Toby said.
Maggie smiled at her. “No, but it’s very kind of you to offer.”
Garrett looked up from cutting his meat. “Purchase whatever else he and his grandmother need. Just bill everything to my account.”
Maggie dabbed her mouth with her napkin. It was a kind and generous offer, but she couldn’t think about that. She had to keep a clear mind, an unbiased mind. The truth was that she couldn’t have planned this whole thing better had she tried.
If she ran Garrett’s accounts up high enough, he would have to dip into the stolen money to pay them. No doubt Rikker would approve the plan. She only wished the idea of taking advantage of Garrett’s generous nature didn’t make her feel so utterly wretched.
Maggie got to work the very next day. Her first stop was Grover’s Mercantile where she purchased crates of tin goods, along with safety matches, lye soap, candles, and kerosene. She ran up such a large bill that the bespectacled clerk behind the counter added the numbers three times to make sure he hadn’t made an error.
The next stop on her list was Adams’s Boots and Leather shop to purchase a pair of black boots for Linc. She also bought yards of gingham fabric from Murphy’s Dry Goods.
The shopkeeper had recommended a young Mexican housekeeper who agreed to clean Linc’s house for a fee. She spent a full day just organizing the kitchen.
Convincing Linc to take a hot bath at the hotel bath house was the real challenge—that, and getting him to sit still in the barber chair.
After the barber cut Linc’s hair, she stood him in front of a store window where he could see his reflection. “What do you think?”
“It don’t look like me,” he mumbled. “Granny won’t recognize me.” Considering the old lady’s condition, it was a strange thing to say, but the boy looked dead serious.
“She’ll recognize you,” Maggie said, smoothing his hair to one side. “Just like always.”
Linc and his grandmother were very much on her mind that night as Maggie stood at the stove stirring the stew. She was especially worried about the boy. He was far too young to shoulder so much responsibility.
If something happened to his grandmother, he would probably end up in an orphanage, but few institutions did little more than turn out vagrant and unlawful people. The number of former orphans who turned up in the Pinkerton files was no accident.
The word orphanage was actually a misnomer; a surprising number of children had a parent or parents who couldn’t or wouldn’t take care of them. Much like her own mother refused to take care of her and her brothers.
Some orphanages did try and even taught their charges a trade. She had been lucky. Her orphanage was run by a Christian organization, and though the headmistress was strict, almost everyone who left turned out to be a responsible citizen. But homes like that were rare. Most directors ran highly regimented facilities that applied corporal punishment and shaved children’s heads. They were also dangerous places, and the mortality rate was often the same as it was for urchins living on the streets.
Hurtled back to the present by the mouthwatering smell rising from the stew pot, she sniffed in appreciation. She’d found the recipe in her new cookbook. The liquid was thick and savory and not watery like the stew served at the orphanage.
After putting the ingredients together, she carefully hid the cookbook. God was in the details, and the same was true of cloak and dagger operations. An Indiana farm girl would most certainly know how to make lamb stew and wouldn’t need a recipe.
It surprised her how much she enjoyed cooking. Mealtime at the Thomas house was nothing like the silent orphanage meals where no one was allowed to talk except in whispers.
In contrast, the evening meal here was boisterous and full of laughter. She ached to think it would soon be coming to an end, and she would once again face an endless panorama of impersonal hotel rooms and poor eating establishments.
The telegram she’d received earlier from headquarters was curt and to the point: keep investigating.
The problem was, she was quickly running out of time. The wedding was little more than three weeks away. She felt conflicted, at odds, and so unlike herself.
She set the spoon down and walked over to the table where Elise sat doing schoolwork. She was learning about plurals and having trouble with words ending in y.
“Oops! You got baby wrong,” Maggie said, peering over Elise’s shoulder. “Remember, you have to change the y to i and add the letters e and s.”
Elise erased what she’d written and tried again.
The front door slammed and Garrett’s voice thundered through the house. “Maggie!”
Grimacing, Maggie turned to face the doorway as Garrett stormed into the kitchen. He waved a bunch of bills in her face.
“Twenty pounds of beans? Two dozen boxes of…” On and on he went, his voice rising with each item, along with his eyebrows.
“Three cans of kerosene, fifteen boxes of tea, and ten bars of lye soap.” He looked up from the bill of goods. “Does Linc even know what to do with soap?”
She wiped her damp hands on her apron. “I’m afraid I may have gone overboard.”
His eyebrows rose so high they practically disappeared into his hairline. “You didn’t just go overboard, you sank the whole confounded ship!”
As if suddenly realizing that Elise was present, he lowered his voice. “When I said to purchase whatever Linc and his grandmother needed, I didn’t mean for you to run us into the poor house!”
“I’m sorry—
“Sorry!” He shook his head, sputtered, and left the room.
Maggie blew out her breath, surprised to find herself shaking. At least he didn’t make her take her purchases back.
Elise looked up from her paper. “What’s a poor house?”
Toby walked into the room and grabbed a slice of bread from the counter. “It’s a place you go when you’re not rich.”
“Are we going to a poor house?”
“I’m not,” Toby said. “I’m going to the moon.”
Elise chewed on the end of her pencil. “Is Papa going to the poor house?”
“No,” Maggie said. “Your papa’s not going to the poor house.” Jail maybe, but not the poor house.
“There,” Elise said after a while. She held up her paper. “I made the plural of poor house.”
Chapter 20
Supper wasn’t the usual happy occasion. No jokes or riddles tonight, though Garrett did question the children about their day. Maggie could sense the barely contained anger coiled within him, but he did his best to maintain a civil tone for the children’s sake. They both did.
As usual, Elise was more than hap
py to share what she’d learned that day. “Miss Taylor taught me how to make babies,” she said.
A startled look crossed Garrett’s face. “Did she now?” His narrowed eyes bored into Maggie as he pushed his empty plate away. “It would seem that Miss Taylor has had a busy day.”
Before Maggie could explain, he rose from the table and retired to his room. She hated that he left such a void. Hated even more that she missed him when he was gone.
“Is Papa angry?” Elise asked, looking worried.
Maggie rose to clear the table. “Maybe a little. But not at you.”
She glanced at Toby who was busy trying to balance a fork on his nose.
Later, after the dishes were done, Maggie walked into the parlor and found the children whispering among themselves.
“Who wants to read first?”
“I do,” Elise said.
Elise’s enthusiasm brought a smile to Maggie’s face. Their nightly reading sessions had paid off and already Elise had shown improvement, though she still struggled with some vocabulary.
Maggie settled on the sofa next to Elise. “Tomorrow, can we stop in town after school for ice cream?”
“I guess we can do that,” Maggie said.
Midway through the story, Whitewash started barking furiously outside.
“Toby, open the door for Whitewash, will you?”
Elise looked up from her book, her eyes wide. “Maybe it’s the boogeyman,” she whispered.
“Or maybe Whitewash just wants to come in,” Maggie whispered back.
The next day, Maggie headed for the dressmaker’s shop to drop off the fabric she’d purchased from the dry goods store. After his initial outburst, Garrett had made no more mention of the bills, and things had returned to normal between them that morning at breakfast. Apparently he didn’t hold grudges. Not like her father used to do… She blew out her breath. But would Garrett pay his debts with stolen money? Oh God, please no!
Mrs. Button greeted her with a mouthful of pins.
“I was hoping you’d have time to make some nightgowns for Linc’s grandmother,” Maggie said.
The seamstress nodded and quickly finished pinning up the hem on a skirt.
“Will next week be soon enough?” Mrs. Button said, stabbing a pin back into the pincushion.
“That will be fine,” Maggie said. She set the bolts of cotton on the table.
“While you’re here, we can do a fitting for your wedding dress.”
Maggie had neither the time nor inclination to try it on, but the dressmaker insisted.
“It won’t take but a few minutes, and it will save you a trip later.”
Refusing to take no for an answer, Mrs. Button rose and vanished into the back of the store. She reappeared a moment later carrying a white satin gown.
Maggie’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this. It was a simple, yet elegant gown, and the fitted bodice was trimmed with white crystal beads and faux pearls. A slight bustle in back fell from a large satin bow, and the sleeves were puffed on top and tapered to the wrists.
She gasped. “It’s beautiful.”
Mrs. Button looked pleased. “Try it on and I’ll measure the hem.” She ushered Maggie into a curtained area that served as a dressing room.
After Maggie stepped out of her skirt and pulled off her shirtwaist, Mrs. Button helped her into the gown. The satin slid down the length of her body like a soothing cool breeze.
Every detail, from the delicate lace at the neckline to the fitted sleeves and flared ruffles at her wrists, was exquisite.
Mrs. Button laced up the back and fussed with the skirt until it was draped to her satisfaction. She then lifted a wedding veil off a hook and pinned it in place upon Maggie’s head.
Overwhelmed with emotion, Maggie stared at herself in the mirror. She looked and felt like she was floating on a cloud. Never had she worn anything so elegant.
The satin fabric felt soft and smooth to her touch, and whispered with her every move. She imagined herself walking down the aisle and into the arms of the man she loved. Startled by the vision of blue eyes that suddenly came to mind, she quickly turned away from the mirror.
“Everything all right?” Mrs. Button asked with a worried frown.
“Yes, I just didn’t expect the dress to look so—”
“Perfect on you?” The dressmaker gave a dimpled smile and pressed her hands together. “You make a beautiful bride.” She separated the draperies hanging at the doorway for privacy and stepped out of the small confined area. “Come and I’ll pin up the hem.”
Maggie lifted the skirt and ducked through the opening.
“Stand on the stool,” Mrs. Button said, indicating a four-legged one in the center of the room next to her worktable.
Maggie inched her skirt to just above her ankles and stepped onto the stool. Mrs. Button grabbed her cloth measuring tape and pincushion and dropped to her knees.
“It looks like we need to take up a good two inches,” she mumbled around the pins in her mouth.
Still shaken by her thoughts, Maggie held herself rigid and tried not to think or feel. Silly schoolgirl dreams about love and marriage had no place in her life. Certainly she had no right to feel anything toward Garrett Thomas.
She curled her hands into balls by her side. Mustn’t think about the blue eyes staring back at her. Or the crooked smile or…
She blinked twice, but the vision refused to go away. With a start she realized it wasn’t her imagination. It really was Garrett Thomas standing outside Mrs. Button’s window, gazing back at her.
Something intense flared in his eyes—not anger but admiration and something else she dared not name. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world, and at that moment, she believed that what he saw was real.
Maggie?
Garrett stepped closer to the window to peer inside. His pulse quickened, and it was all he could do to catch his breath. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe the way she looked in her wedding gown, all soft and dewy-eyed. She looked like an angel.
It shocked him to realize he’d memorized every plane and angle of her face. Beneath the wedding veil her hair held golden highlights, but he also knew that the shifting light would turn it a radiant auburn at day’s end. Just as the sapphire of her eyes as she watched him through the window would later pale to robin’s-egg blue on nothing more than a whim.
Stunned by the overwhelming feelings that assailed him, he was momentarily riveted to the spot. He’d only known her for a few weeks, but already she’d worked her way into his heart. How was such a thing possible?
Her smiles commanded his dreams. Her laughter seemed to echo, even from the metal he pounded into shape in his workshop.
Nothing had gone as planned. He’d never intended to have feelings for another woman. Losing Katherine had been too painful. Her death devastated him. He’d vowed never again to put himself through that much pain and grief and sorrow.
A marriage based on mutual respect was safe and sane. A marriage based on love was not. That’s why he’d picked out a wife through a mail-order-bride catalog. That seemed safe enough.
What were the chances of falling in love with a woman picked at random, sight unseen? None. Absolutely none. And that’s how he had wanted it.
It took every bit of strength he possessed to finally pull away from the window. Even then, he had trouble walking away, though he knew he must. He needed time to think, to organize his thoughts. Dare he take a chance on love again? Did he even have a choice?
Chapter 21
Something had changed. Maggie sensed it the moment Garrett walked into the house later that day.
He made no mention of seeing her in her wedding gown. Nor did he say anything about the bills she ran up, but she noticed him watching her intently at times, noticed a softening in the eyes that regarded her, heard a disturbing gentleness of voice whenever he said her name.
After the childre
n had been bathed and tucked in bed, he invited her to join him outside to look at the nighttime sky. His attentive manner told her he had something more than stars on his mind.
Rikker’s voice echoed in her mind. “You better watch your step.” But Garrett looked anything but dangerous tonight—at least not in the way that Rikker meant.
“It’s a beautiful evening,” he said as if he sensed her hesitation.
“Let me get a wrap,” she said.
She hurried down the hall and tiptoed quietly into the children’s room. The light was out, but she was able to locate her shawl.
Out of habit, she reached into her false pocket. Her holstered weapon was loaded and ready. Not that she thought she’d need it.
“Are you coming to bed?” Elise asked.
“Soon, pumpkin. Soon.”
Wrapping the shawl around her shoulders, she left the room.
Garrett held the door open as she walked out to the front porch. He startled her by reaching for her hand.
He must have felt her stiffen because the light from the open door revealed his questioning look. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. If only his touch wasn’t playing havoc with her senses. Her heart thudded, and suddenly she had trouble drawing air into her lungs.
He reached back to close the door. With a slight nod, he led her down the steps but didn’t release her hand until they reached the front gate. Just then a shooting star arced across the northern sky.
His soothing voice washed over her like a gentle wave. “Some people believe that a shooting star foretells good fortune.”
She shivered. Why did he have to mention the word fortune? “Some people also believe they bring bad luck.”
“I like my version better,” he said. The light from the house reflected in his eyes, and the slight desert breeze ruffled his hair. “Look, there’s another one.”
She looked up just in time to see the tail end of a meteor fade away. He was right; it was beautiful even without the moon. The stars sparkled like diamonds scattered across a silky black sky.
She couldn’t get over the weather. She’d grabbed a wrap out of habit, but didn’t really need it. It was like summer, but without the humidity of the East.
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