Linda Castle

by The Return of Chase Cordell

  “The charges against you are serious. You could hang.”

  “It’s just some nonsense cooked up by Kerney. I could’ve cleared it all up in the beginning, but then you blundered in and lied about us being together that night. I had to keep my mouth shut to keep you safe.” His grandfather frowned at him a bit suspiciously. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me where you were that night.”

  Chase gulped. This was his opportunity—he could tell his grandfather about his missing memory. He considered it for one heartbeat.

  “No,” Chase grated out. If he had not been with his grandfather, then he had no notion of where he was—but the Colt Ira had returned to him made him wonder if he was a murderer. The unknown kept him silent.

  His grandfather’s mustache twitched. “I won’t ask again. You’ll tell me if you want to. I don’t supposed you’d care to tell me why you told them I was with you?”

  “No.” Chase felt his heart begin to pound and a pain behind his eyes made him wince. A new flash of memory filled his brain.

  He remembered his father’s funeral and his aunt Marjorie’s funeral and how his life changed forever after that.

  He could feel his own sorrow and humiliation in the regained memory. He felt the bleak isolation and heart-ripping loneliness that he had known as young man, because from that day on, he heard laughter and jeers behind his back. In defense of the mockery, he had pushed himself to excel at everything, hoping the stigma of his grandfather’s madness could not hurt him. But it did. It hurt him in too many ways for a green boy to understand.

  Chase felt himself shudder inside while he gripped the cold iron bars. He had lived under a dark cloud of shame that kept him separate from the rest of the world and made him different from other young men. He remembered every painful slur and slight with aching exactness.

  A wave of hot anger flowed through him. For the first time since his return he felt hostility toward his grandfather. Now that he remembered the terrible ordeal of his adolescence, his grandfather’s confession of sanity took on new significance for him.

  He could no longer look at his aging relative with cool detachment and pity. His raw memories made him very much an unwilling participant in whatever his grandfather had tried to protect with the lie of madness, and Chase wanted—burned for—an explanation.

  “I want to know why? How could you have let me grow up thinking you were crazy?” Chase heard the pain in his words.

  Captain Cordell sighed and moved back toward the huge ring in the center of the floor. He was so still, for a time Chase wondered if his grandfather had heard him. Then he turned to face Chase.

  “I’ve known this day would come. I’ve thought about it for years, but now that it’s here, I don’t know how to explain to you what I did or what compelled me to do it.”

  “Do you know what it’s like to grow up under something like that?” Chase’s voice was a harsh whisper. There were still huge holes in his collection, but the memory of his grandfather’s mental collapse was now crystal clear.

  Captain Cordell looked at the floor and ran his fingers over the long, drooping mustache. “I saw the effect it had on you, but you were well on your way to being a man, Chase. I thought—I hoped what I was doing was important enough to justify what you were going through.”

  “I was still young, little more than a boy. It mattered what people thought. What could possibly have been so important that you would inflict that kind of pain on your own flesh and blood?”

  His grandfather looked up. He narrowed his eyes as if trying to picture it in his own mind. “The lives of hundreds, possibly thousands, of people were that important. Keeping them alive tipped the scales, Chase.”

  “What are you talking about? Just what are you involved in?”

  He pierced Chase with intelligent eyes. “I don’t want you involved in what I’m doing, for your sake and Linese’s.”

  “I’m a grown man now. I believe I have a right to know.”

  Captain Cordell moved back toward the bars and lowered his voice. “All right, Chase. I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing. I just hope to God I don’t end up regretting it.”

  He whispered so softly Chase had to hold his breath in order to hear the answer. “I have been helping the abolitionists for years. Long before the hostilities broke out, Cordellane was part of the Underground Railroad.”

  “Helping get runaway slaves up North?”

  “Yep. Mainfield is one of the towns along the way to freedom.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Chase felt the sting of being left out, of being apart.

  Captain Cordell shook his head. “Put you in danger? No. I decided it would be better if I was crazy for as long as it was necessary. Nobody was supposed to know this secret. I wouldn’t have told you now, except for your recklessness two years ago. You should come clean right now and tell Thompson where you really were that night. It’s going to come out eventually.”

  For an instant Chase panicked. He had no intentions of letting his grandfather know about his amnesia. Perhaps it was only pride. More likely the reason was the horrible possibility that Chase had not been half the man he wanted to be—not until he remembered. Whatever the reason, he resolved not to tell him.

  “I can’t tell him.”

  His grandfather glared at him. “Suit yourself, but it isn’t going to be long until somebody starts asking you some hard questions.”

  Tiny fragments of new memory swirled in his head but nothing was tangible. He could not tell the sheriff what he did not know himself. He was still dancing on a knife edge, bluffing his way through each day. But while those memories floated, just outside of his reach, he had a hope.

  “You probably thought I was a fool for lying for you.” Chase dragged his fingers through his hair. The ache in his head was growing worse, the ringing in his ears more high-pitched, while the memories floated like leaves in a dust devil.

  “I thought you were a brave man doing a selfless thing.”

  Chase looked up and saw his grandfather swipe at his eyes. The old man sniffed and cleared his throat. “I’m proud of you, boy. Going away to fight has turned you into the man I always hoped you would become. You helped those people just as much as I ever did.”

  Chase felt a lump in his throat. It was funny, how the old man’s approval sent a flood of satisfaction through his body.

  He thought about all the secrets he had been confronted with since coming home. This was the first time somebody had said something that made him feel good about the man he used to be.

  Chase realized he was happy his grandfather thought well of him. The anger at his grandfather’s deception slowly drained away and he was left with a warm affection for the old man.

  “I’m proud of you, too, Grandfather.” Chase reached his hand through the bars and touched the old man’s cheek. “What can I do to get you out of here?”

  “I heard Rancy mention a date to Kerney last night. May 30, 1862.”

  “What difference does the date make?”

  “Get a message to Doralee and her girls. After Thompson talks to her, I’ll be free as a bird, and just as crazy as I ever was. On your honor, you must swear not to let anyone, including Linese, know any different—not yet.”

  “I swear, on my honor,” Chase said softly. For the first time since his arrival, he felt he might truly have some honor.

  Chase turned and reached for the latch on the door. The need to exact some revenge on Kerney was searing his insides. It was all he could think of. He was going to write the editorials the mayor had been wanting. And he couldn’t wait to see the reaction of the Businessman’s Association when they read them.

  Linese stopped her buggy just as Doralee and a half-dozen painted ladies stepped out of a fringe-topped surrey parked in front of the jail. Doralee glanced Linese’s way but quickly averted her eyes and acted as if she hadn’t seen her. Linese wrapped the reins around the brake and jumped down to the street.

  “Miss Dora
lee, wait.” She picked up her skirts and hurried forward, while the May heat shimmered up her legs and made her feel like a wilted flower.

  Doralee turned and lifted her parasol as if to protect herself from the sun. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mrs. Cordell, you shouldn’t ought to speak to me in public.” Doralee looked up and down the street, as if she thought the local gossips would already be busy documenting Linese’s social blunder. “I wouldn’t want you to be shamed ‘cause you spoke to me.”

  Linese’s cheeks burned with guilty shame. Up until recently she would have felt the same fear—that speaking to a soiled dove would ruin her reputation. But, lately, she just didn’t care about that so much anymore. Perhaps it was her gratitude for Melissa’s help, or perhaps she was learning that people were just people, that their circumstance didn’t really make them better or worse than anyone else, just different.

  “I’m not ashamed to say I know you, Doralee, or any of these women.” Linese stared down the row of painted faces behind Doralee. Melissa was not among them, and Linese wondered with a tiny twinge of envy if her baby had come yet. “Are you here to see the Captain?” Linese asked.

  “You might say that.” Doralee winked in a way that made Linese’s pulse quicken. Curiosity made her follow Doralee inside Rancy Thompson’s office. He was leaning over his desk, thumbing through a stack of wanted posters. He looked up and a frown creased his face.

  “Doralee?” He jumped up from his chair. Astonishment was written across his face while the women squeezed into his office and shut the door. “Mrs. Cordell?” Obviously he was incredulous to see Linese among the prostitutes and did little to hide his surprise. “What is this all about?”

  Doralee closed her parasol with a snap and proceeded to take off her black lace gloves. Linese could not help but grin at the way she took command of the situation by the simple task of taking off her gloves and making Rancy wait until she was finished.

  “Do you have Captain Cordell locked up in there?” Doralee nodded toward the dim hallway and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then I suggest you get the key and let him out.”

  Silence fell so heavy in the room Linese swore she could hear her own heart pounding.

  “And why would that be, Dora?” Sheriff Thompson eyed the line of women suspiciously.

  “I have heard you are accusing him of some silly nonsense that happened on May 30, 1862. Is that right?” Doralee’s voice resonated with impatience.

  Thompson’s initial astonishment was fast turning to irritation. “Yeah, so what?” His words rang with offense.

  “Well, then let him out, Sheriff. He can’t have possibly have done whatever it is you say he did on May 30.”

  “And why is that?” Thompson’s tone was almost belligerent now.

  “Because Captain Cordell was at my establishment that night.” Doralee grinned broadly “The whole night, Sheriff, if you get my meaning.”

  He wiped his hand down his face and turned toward the hallway. Linese hoped she didn’t look as shocked as Sheriff Thompson, but she was fairly sure she did.

  “Wait a minute, Doralee, how is it you are so sure about that date?” Rancy questioned.

  “Because that is my birthday, Sheriff, and that is the night the Captain tossed his hat up on my weather vane. Then he proceeded to climb up to get it—” several girls stifled giggles behind their hands “—in the altogether. It is not an event one sees every day in Mainfield, Texas. We are not likely to forget the sight—or the date—of that occurrence anytime soon.”

  Thompson’s brows shot up and his face turned a bright crimson, but within seconds his skeptical frown returned.

  “You expect me to take the word of—of—you and these women?”

  Doralee was unaffected by his veiled insult. “No, Sheriff, I don’t. All of us are fully prepared to sign statements listing the names of the other Mainfield gentlemen who were there… enjoying the festivities and hospitality of my establishment.”

  A murmur of agreement spread over the line of women. “I’m sure there are more than one or two wives who would find the list most interesting reading. And I will be sure to tell them that they have you to thank for the privilege.” Doralee batted her long eyelashes and smiled pleasantly.

  Thompson went pale. Then he cleared his throat and looked at the floor. “No, Miss Doralee, I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” He turned and grabbed a key from a metal hook, gave the women one more glance, then disappeared down the hallway.

  Linese grabbed Doralee and hugged her as hard as she could. “Oh, I could just kiss you.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Doralee said in mock horror. “The Captain has always treated me like a real lady. I remember my friends—my enemies, too.” She smiled and touched Linese’s cheek affectionately. “What you can do is get over to the Gazette, and let that good-looking man of yours know what has happened. I made him a promise it would be all right. He need not fear for the old Captain’s safety anymore.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chase watched the last paper go through the big flat-head press. Accomplishment swept over him in a rush when he picked it up carefully by the edges so he wouldn’t smudge the damp ink.

  His editorial contained none of the beauty Linese was able to put on paper, but he had succeeded in saying what he felt. It was stark, visceral, and painted a picture of war that made Chase’s belly twist when he read it.

  He had poured his heart into the article and the result was the sad truth. After all the parades were over, the brass bands gone, a soldier was left to face enemy fire on the battlefield alone. In the end, a warrior was faced with one task—his own survival.

  While he had been writing, faint memories came floating back. The horror of watching young men puke their lives away haunted him. Images, like dim tintype pictures, assaulted him. They had perished by the hundreds from lack of nourishment, lack of sanitation, lack of proper medical care.

  Lack.

  If he could sum up his slim recollections of two years of war in one word, it would be that word—lack.

  He stopped reading. There was a bit of moisture at the corner of his eye. He swiped at it with ink-stained fingers and then stared at them in wonder.

  Chase was weeping. Not only for the young soldiers who died, but for himself, for the survivors. He had been grieving for the men who came home and tried to pick up the broken threads of their lives. Chase realized that up until this moment, he had been hiding from one more sordid truth about himself. He felt guilty for surviving when so many others did not. But he was glad he had lived. He didn’t want to hide anymore.

  He couldn’t do anything about the past—about the man he had been in the past, about the young men who didn’t make it back home. But he could change the kind of man he was now and would be in the future.

  He was pretty sure he had been less than he would have wished before he went to war, but he had a chance to atone for that lack in himself now. He intended to change the small corner of the world around him.

  This editorial was the beginning. He had found his taste for battle was not wholly gone, it had simply changed forms. He was ready—no, he was anxious—to take on Mayor Ker-ney and his friends.

  Chase sighed and felt a great weight ease from his mind. He knew that in part it was because he had started to heal, to forgive himself for a thousand unremembered faults, but it was deeper than that. His grandfather’s shocking admission gave him a glimmer of hope for a future with Linese.

  The skeptical part of his brain didn’t completely believe it yet, but he was turning over the possibility that there was little substance to his belief that the Cordell blood was somehow responsible for his missing memory. If it was indeed something caused by his injury, then he could heal.

  If it was because he could not face some horrible deed he had committed with Ira Goten, then maybe he would not regain his memory.

  He asked himself a million questions, tried on h
undreds of possibilities to see if they fit, discarded and replaced them in his mind. He was weighing all the options, when suddenly the door flew open. At first he thought a dust devil had forced it, then he saw Linese standing in the doorway.

  She was out of breath and her eyes were wide. Her hair had tumbled down around her shoulders and her cheeks were flushed from the heat.

  “God in heaven, what’s the matter?” He was across the room and beside her in three long steps. “Are you hurt? Is everything all right? Is it grandfather?”

  “The Captain is free!” She stood on tiptoe to deliver a series of excited kisses to his jaw. The scent of flowers wafted around them like a clinging vine and drew him ever nearer to her. The feel of her warm form against his chest made his pulse quicken.

  Chase felt the smile begin somewhere at the corners of his mouth, but it spread like fingers of flame throughout his body. Affection filled his heart, expanded, swirled, grew.

  Her happiness was contagious. He picked Linese up and spun her around like a giddy child. She laughed and clung to him until they were both overheated and out of breath. When he placed her back on solid ground, he paused to gaze into her eyes. The look of happiness in her face blazed a trail straight to his soul.

  “Chase, isn’t it wonderful? Doralee and the girls were with the Captain that night. He is free.”

  “Good, good. Now I want you to get him at the jail and go home, Linese. Go straight back home to Cordellane where you’ll be safe.”

  She raised her eyebrows and the brightness in her eyes faded. “Are you working late again?” Disappointment rang in her question.

  “No, not tonight. I’ll be along soon. I just have to deliver a very special paper first.”

  The love in her eyes reached out to him. He adored her, and he intended to be the kind of man she deserved. He only had to clear away the last traces of shadow and doubt from their lives and embrace the hope that he would eventually regain the rest of his memory. He was ready to believe it, he needed to believe it, if he was going to reclaim his life and his wife.