My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  Because she had. Oh, she definitely had.

  Madeline looked out her third-floor window at the preparations for tonight’s party. Over the past twenty-four hours, Madame had become like a general directing her troops, and even the surly Gretchen had fallen into line.

  As dusk approached, the back garden had been turned into a fantasyland full of lights. Torches had already been lit around the perimeter, and lamps were lit at each of the many tables.

  Annabelle would have her work cut out trying to keep little Jordy out of the pink roses that had been placed all around, but the determined woman had shown she was up for the task. Madeline smiled. Though Annabelle had apparently been left alone to care for her son without her husband’s assistance, she remained so serene and happy to be Jordy’s mama.

  Perhaps someday she would have her own child and know that feeling as well.

  A knock at the door distracted her. “Come in, please.”

  Gretchen stepped inside, her usual scowl in place. “Hurry up and sit. I have work to do.”

  “Thank you for helping with my hair,” Madeline said sweetly as she took her seat at the table. “You’re the only one who can make anything of this mess the Lord gave me.”

  “Be glad the Lord gave you good hair,” she said as she yanked a section of the alleged good hair into submission and then reached for another.

  It was all she could manage not to cry out. Instead, Madeline bit her tongue and remained quiet.

  When she was done, Gretchen stepped back and tilted her head. “Not awful,” she said before gathering up her combs and heading for the door.

  “Gretchen, wait.” She reached into the drawer and pulled out a wrapped package. “This is for you.”

  Gretchen looked down at the package and said nothing. Nor did she move.

  Madeline rose and crossed the distance between them to take the combs from Gretchen and place the package in her hand. “Open it,” she said.

  The maid did as she was told and then looked at Madeline. Her normally hard expression had softened almost to tears. “My mirror. It was broken and now it has been repaired. How did you manage it?”

  Madeline shrugged. “I had it repaired. There’s a glass shop just across from the post office. It was a simple thing.”

  “It was no such thing,” she said fiercely, and then she ducked her head. “Why are you so nice to me?”

  Madeline grinned. “Why not?”

  Gretchen straightened. “Thank you,” she said as she gathered up her things. “I like you, Miss Latour.”

  And then she was gone. Madeline shook her head and then finished preparing for the party. By the time she was ready to go downstairs, she could hear the musicians had begun to play a lively tune and guests were arriving.

  She slipped into her shoes just as someone knocked on her door. “Come in,” she said, and the scullery maid appeared with a letter. “For you, miss,” she said as she hurried away. “From a Mr. Townsend.”

  Something inside the letter shifted as Madeline opened the seal, and then her key and its gold chain fell to the floor. She returned the necklace to its place around her neck and tucked the key into her bodice and then picked up the letter once again.

  I confess I have kept this key thinking I might have found a story in it, but out of deference to you, I will not go forward with that. As I told you and the detective, I have a particular skill in tracking down the facts of a story of which I am quite proud. I have done as you asked and tracked down the source of the story about the Cahill property and its treasure. I’m sure you understand that information cannot be conveyed in a letter, but I will impart the details next we meet. Wonderful about the commander’s miracle recovery, wasn’t it?

  The letter was signed Walter Townsend.

  Madeline tucked the letter into her pocket and hurried downstairs to join the party. Jonah surprised her by stepping out from behind an oleander to haul her against him in the shadows.

  “A quick kiss before the inspections begin,” he said as he made good on that statement.

  “What inspections?”

  “My mother is here, Madeline, and you’ve not met her yet.”

  Her stomach did a flip-flop. “Oh,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Relax, she will love you,” he said as he gave her a sideways look. “Is that your key necklace you’re wearing?”

  “It is. It was delivered along with this note.” She handed the folded paper to Jonah, who read it then returned it to her. “What do you make of this?”

  “There you are,” Susanna Cahill called as she linked arms with her brother. “Mama has been asking to meet your intended.”

  Jonah rolled his eyes. “More like you cannot wait to see what happens when she does.”

  “That is not true. She’s going to love Madeline.” Susanna linked her other arm with Madeline’s and led them away from the oleander. “It is you who I cannot wait to watch.”

  “And why is that?” he asked, looking over Susanna’s head to make a face at Madeline.

  “Because while Madeline is meeting Mama, it appears you will be meeting Papa.” She inclined her head toward Madeline. “Her papa.”

  Madeline stopped short and nearly hauled both Cahills against her. “My papa? He’s here?” she managed as her heart jumped into her throat.

  “With your mama,” Susanna said. “They’re both here, and it gets even better. They’re sitting with Mama.”

  “Wonderful,” Madeline managed as Jonah’s cheerful sister dragged her over to the table where two Latours and a Cahill awaited.

  Mrs. Cahill’s smile was every bit as dazzling as her son’s, although she was very much an older version of Susanna. Rising to walk toward them, Jonah’s mother embraced Madeline and then held her at arm’s length.

  “I am Gwen Cahill. I have prayed for you,” she said. “About you and for you, that is, since the day my son was born. And now here you are. Welcome to our family, Madeline.”

  “Here I am,” Madeline echoed, and then she thought to add, “thank you.”

  “You’ve overwhelmed her, Mama,” Jonah said, coming to her rescue. “And it is a little soon to welcome her to the family, if you know what I mean.”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Cahill said. “We’re just one conversation away from that. Here,” she said. “Come and meet the Latours.”

  “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” Madeline whispered when she came to her senses.

  “Generally, yes,” he said. “But not when Hurricane Gwennie rolls into town.”

  Just before she reached the table where the Latours and Mrs. Cahill were sitting, she stumbled forward and nearly landed in her father’s lap. “Well now, I knew you would be surprised, but I expected more poise from my daughter.”

  “Give me time and I will manage it,” she said against his ear as he rose to embrace her.

  “You’re perfect as you are,” he said. “Now let me greet your young man so I can pretend to dislike him.”

  “Papa, behave,” she said as she turned toward Jonah. “You remember Jonah Cahill.”

  “Pinkerton detective Jonah Cahill, as I recall,” Papa said, and Madeline suppressed a groan at what sort of connotations that might hold.

  “Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you.” Jonah offered a handshake and then turned to Mama. “Mrs. Latour, it is good to see you again.”

  “Rose Latour is a gardener and a much sought after artist,” Jonah’s mother said with a smile.

  Mama blushed under the attention but had no trouble making small talk with the Pinkerton detective and his mother. Madeline looked over at Susanna and her mother, who seemed to be conspiring together.

  Conspiring what, Madeline was afraid to ask.

  Madame Smith walked over to offer a broad smile. “Welcome. I see you have all found one another.”

  “We have,” Jonah said with a smile that did not quite reach to his eyes. “It would have been nice to know ahead of time. Say perhaps yesterday?”

>   “Oh, Detective Cahill,” she said. “That would have completely ruined the surprise, now wouldn’t it have?”

  “Of course,” he said, though it was obvious to Madeline he wouldn’t have minded having this surprise ruined.

  “Thank you for sharing your daughter with me,” Madame said to Papa. She then turned to Mama. “She has been a delight, and I am very grateful that she has been able to assist me in recording my memories.”

  “And we are very grateful to have her as well,” Mama said. “She has been such a blessing.”

  “May we have a private chat?” Papa interjected.

  “Of course,” Jonah said.

  “Papa,” Madeline warned. “Be nice.”

  Jonah allowed Phillip Latour to lead him past the tables of guests and over to a spot near the back alley fence. As always, Jonah assessed the perimeter, and then he returned his attention to Madeline’s father.

  “I assume you received my letter,” Jonah said.

  “I did.” Phillip Latour studied his expensively tailored sleeve and then returned his attention to Jonah. “I do approve, but you knew I would.”

  “I had hoped,” Jonah said. “But considering the clash between what I do and what you do, I didn’t count on it.”

  Phillip looked amused. “What would you have done if I said no?”

  He looked the old man in the eye. “Probably married her anyway if she’d have me.”

  “She would, and we both know it.” Phillip leaned back against the fence and draped one arm atop the rail. “Don’t be so certain we clash, you and I. Our work is not so different.”

  Jonah regarded him evenly but said nothing. He’d done some personal searching into the family business but found nothing untoward regarding Latour & Sons. Thus, when Madeline accused him of opening a Pinkerton investigation into her family, he could honestly say that was not true. Someday he would admit to her that he had done a little snooping on his own, though.

  He had received a telegram this evening that shed a whole new light on the Latours, however. “Not even back in ’55?”

  Phillip’s casual demeanor disappeared. “What do you know about that?”

  “Not enough,” Jonah said.

  “That you, Cahill?”

  Jonah spied Thomas Pearson coming his way from the alley. “We’re not finished with this, sir,” he told Madeline’s father. “Pearson, come and meet my future father-in-law,” he said and then made the introductions.

  “Nice party,” Pearson said as he closed the gate behind him and joined the pair.

  “Mrs. Smith does nothing halfway,” Jonah said. “I wonder if you’ve got any news on that shovel.” He looked over at Phillip. “Somebody thought it would be a good idea to dig up our property looking for pirate treasure. They left behind a broken lock and a shovel in the cellar.”

  “Bad business, that,” Phillip said.

  “Especially with my mother and sister at home without a man to watch them.” He clasped a hand on Pearson’s shoulder. “I’m grateful to this man for seeing to their safety.”

  “I’ve enjoyed it, actually,” Pearson said as he patted his belly. “They keep insisting I stay for dinner, and I keep agreeing.”

  All three men shared a laugh. Then Jonah sobered. “Miss Latour got a note from Townsend letting us know he found out who wrote that article about buried treasure on Cahill property.”

  “Oh?” the police officer said as his brows rose. “Did he say who it was?”

  Jonah shook his head. “He didn’t want to put it in the note. Said he would divulge the name the next time we met.”

  Pearson shook his head. “Ignore him, Jonah. He’s just a reporter looking for a story, and you know how they are.” When both Jonah and Phillip scowled, Pearson continued. “No insult to Miss Latour intended. There are good reporters, but this guy Townsend is definitely not one of them.”

  “Excuse me.”

  Jonah looked past Pearson to see Annabelle and Jordy walking toward them. The young lady looked beautiful this evening in a dress of pale green and a hat to match. Mrs. Smith had obviously spared no expense in transforming her granddaughter from harried mother to well-dressed young woman.

  She stopped to allow Jordy to catch up then hauled him into her arms. “My grandmother would like us all to take our seats.”

  Pearson turned around to look at Annabelle and froze.

  “You,” she said with obvious venom. “What are you doing here?” She looked past him to Jonah. “This is the Pinkerton man who was hounding us in Indianola. Ran off all the paying boarders with his threats, he did.”

  “No,” Jonah said. “This is Officer Pearson of the Galveston Police Department. He’s a friend of mine. You must be mistaken.”

  Pearson turned his back on Annabelle and shook his head. “Woman’s crazy,” he said.

  She set Jordy on the ground and sent him off to play on the swing and then came to stand by Jonah. “You’re him, all right. Are you working a case here, or did you decide to shake them down too?”

  The officer’s face blanched, but he said nothing. Then Annabelle turned her attention to Pearson.

  “There never was treasure there,” she told him. “Not when you first showed up, and definitely not after you practically destroyed my mama’s boardinghouse thinking you might find it. But you wouldn’t listen, would you? You figured that Samuel’s daughter was bound to know where it was.”

  “What’s she talking about, Pearson?”

  He held his hands in front of him as if to profess his innocence. “I told you, she’s got me mistaken for someone else.”

  “I disagree.” Reverend Wyatt walked toward them holding Jordy, who was covered in something pink. “I found this little guy helping himself to the cupcakes on the dessert table. You might want to wash him up a bit.”

  Annabelle took her son from the pastor without removing her attention from Pearson. “Don’t let him fool them, preacher man,” she said as she turned to walk away.

  “I won’t.” The reverend clasped his hand on Pearson’s shoulder. “Why don’t we talk about this out in the alley where we won’t be overheard?”

  “No.” Pearson shook off the older man’s hand. “Look, I don’t know what kind of joke you all are playing, but I do not have to stay here and let you play it on me.” He turned to walk away.

  “Still got that scar on the palm of your hand where you gouged yourself pulling apart floorboards in Francine’s parlor?”

  “Show me your hand,” Jonah said to him. “So I can prove to this man he’s wrong.”

  Pearson muscled past him and headed for the gate. “If you don’t trust me enough to take me at my word, then I’m not staying to dignify this conversation.”

  “You’re not getting off that easy. Where’s Montlake, and who is that priest?”

  The police officer made it to the alley before Jonah tackled him. The younger man fought back, but Jonah easily bested him.

  “Your hand, Pearson,” Jonah said as he grabbed for Pearson’s wrist. “Show it to me.”

  Even in the dim light of the alley, a deep, pale slash could easily be seen in the center of Thomas Pearson’s palm.

  He looked up at Madeline’s father. “There ought to be some rope in the carriage house. Would you get it for me?”

  Phillip nodded and headed off as Jonah spied Detective Donovan bounding up from the alley. “Backup is here, Pearson. Answer.”

  “Priest is a guy who owed me a favor. He’s got Montlake at my place,” he said as he swung at Jonah, connecting with his jaw.

  Jonah swung back and knocked him to the ground. “Since you like treasure hunting, did you dig those holes on my property too?”

  “Wasn’t anything there. Kind of a shame I bothered to write the article. I was hoping it might attract others who knew more than me.”

  “So you could steal what they found?”

  Once again Pearson aimed his fist at Jonah. This time the police officer landed a blow that sent Jonah to the pave
ment. He quickly jumped up and hit Pearson between the eyes, causing him to fall backward, where he remained, eyes closed.

  “What are you doing here, Donovan?” Jonah asked.

  “I was invited to dinner, remember?” Donovan looked down at the unconscious police officer then back at Jonah. “What’s the story with this guy?”

  Jonah filled him in.

  “Is this the guy who’s been impersonating me?”

  “I don’t know,” Jonah said. “You tell me.”

  He knelt down and dug through Pearson’s pockets until he found what he was looking for. Standing, he pressed a stack of cards into Jonah’s palm. The policeman groaned, and Donovan pushed his boot against the man’s chest.

  “How did he get those?”

  “I came down here last fall for the initial meeting on the Grant security project, and I realized when I got back to Chicago that a box of my Pinkerton cards was missing. A month or two later, the agency got a couple of inquiries asking about me. Since I wasn’t working on anything down here, they dismissed the reports as false.”

  “Why didn’t you mention it?” Jonah asked.

  “Same reason I forgot about that man in the rose garden. I got busy and just didn’t think about following up on it.” He shook his head. “See, I’d make a better rancher than Pinkerton.”

  Donovan stepped back as Phillip returned with the rope. Together they made short work of tying Pearson just as Townsend walked up.

  “I see you figured it out,” the reporter said.

  “He admitted it. Help us with him and maybe I’ll give you first chance to write the story,” he told Townsend with a grin.

  Phillip nodded toward the carriage house. “There’s a back entrance to the carriage house right over there. I think we can carry him over there and lock him in the tack room until someone can fetch the law.”

  “Thinking like a Pinkerton man, sir,” Donovan said as he grabbed Pearson’s feet.

  Jonah couldn’t miss the older man’s expression. When he and Donovan had Pearson settled behind a locked door in the tack room and the stable boy headed for the police station, he finally laughed.