Elusive Hope

by Marylu Tyndall

  Rising, Hayden grabbed a stick and tossed it into the fire. Perhaps forgiveness would bring him peace. But he’d have plenty of time for that after he got his revenge. “My father must pay for what he’s done. If your God is so forgiving, He’ll no doubt pardon my father’s offenses as well. But, for my mother’s sake, I cannot let that happen. Don’t you see? It is up to me to see that her murder is avenged.”

  The fire hissed and crackled, sending sparks into the night.

  “Hayden, you’re not judge and jury of the world. That’s God’s job. Let Him handle it.”

  Hayden grew tired of all the God talk. “What are you going to do about Patrick?”

  “Patrick. Is that his name? Hmm. Well, I can hardly turn him and his colonists away. You saw how hungry and worn they looked.” Blake rubbed his eyes. “Besides, we could use the help, and they did inhabit this town before us.”

  “But they didn’t build the huts,” Hayden argued, his mind refusing to believe Blake could be so fooled.

  “No, Patrick said they found them like this.”

  “Then let the colonists stay and banish my father.”

  “I can’t do that and you know it. The man has done us no wrong.”

  Blood drained from Hayden’s heart and fired through his veins. “He’s a confidence man. A swindler! He’s only here for the gold. He’ll charm his way into this colony and infect it like a plague. And like a plague, he must be isolated, cut out with a knife, before we all fall ill.”

  Blake’s gray eyes assessed him. “Perhaps. If so, he’ll show his true colors soon enough. Either way, killing him is not the answer.” Blake rose. “Rest assured, I will keep an eye on him. And so will James. We won’t allow him to harm New Hope or anyone in it.”

  Hayden repressed a laugh. Though Blake was a competent leader, he had no idea who he was up against. But Hayden did. And he had no intention of allowing that man to stay. Perhaps Blake was right about not murdering him, but Hayden had other ways to exact his revenge.

  CHAPTER 30

  Babies made the sweetest sounds when they slept. Or at least Lydia did. Little gurgles and tongue clicks and grunts of innocence bubbled through Sarah’s hut. Though the sound was far more soothing than Magnolia’s father’s snores, she still could not sleep,envying every second of the babe’s worry-free existence—the sweet repose of innocence. If only Magnolia were a child again on her parents’ plantation, when her mother and father were happy and her father doted on her as if she were a princess. Before she’d grown up and disappointed him. But those days were gone. They’d been gone for a long time. And now her father had disowned her.

  Rubbing her aching head, Magnolia sat up in bed. Thoughts flitted through her mind, scattered and jumbled, some too painful to light on. Others too thrilling to ignore. Such as the one she embraced now, the one where she had accepted Hayden’s suit! She could barely remember the joy she felt at that moment, so brief had it been before Martin had barged into camp, strutting like a bloated goose as if he owned Brazil. Just like he always did everywhere he set his imperious boot. Hayden’s father! How could it be? Swinging her legs over the cot, she dropped her head into her hands. The Godard man he’d been searching for. The man he’d given his life to find was her ex-fiancé. A putrid taste flooded her mouth.

  Shouts drifted through the bamboo and mud walls, and she wondered who else was having trouble sleeping. Flinging on her robe, Magnolia glanced at Sarah and Lydia sleeping side by side on the cot and smiled. Moonlight fluttered silver ribbons on both their faces, as if God Himself gently caressed them while they slept. Was that what it took to get God’s affection? To be as good and sweet as Sarah? If so, Magnolia would forever be in His disfavor. Just like she was in her father’s. Shoving her feet into slippers, she headed outside. To walk. To think. To clear her head. Anything to soften the ache in her heart.

  After Hayden had struck his father, he’d stomped off, not once looking her way. Not once! Magnolia knew he was angry. Knew he was as shocked as she at their twisted, vile association. What she didn’t know was what he thought of it all. What he thought of her. Mercy me, she didn’t even know her own thoughts anymore. Martin had ripped her heart in two and stolen everything from her family. So desperate to be loved, to be cherished, to be of some value to someone, she’d ignored the warning signs along the way: the twinkle of greed in his eye, the twist of doubt in her gut, his sudden interest in investing in new racetracks in Kentucky.

  Yet now those doubts rose once again. Was his son any different? Wasn’t Hayden just as much a swindler as his father? Hadn’t he tricked her with the same sugar-laced words and rakish grins and idle flattery? Perhaps even his offer of courtship was just a part of some nefarious plan to discredit her family again. Although how he could cast any further reproach on them, Magnolia could not imagine. Ah, she was just being silly. Hayden was nothing like his father, and until he gave her a reason to believe otherwise, she would trust him.

  Night insects and birds hummed atop a cool breeze swirling off the river. Wrapping her robe tighter, she started down the street when the flicker of a fire caught her gaze. A few more steps and she saw Blake sitting on a stump, Hayden pacing before him deep in conversation. She knew that pace, knew that stubborn cut of his jaw. Her traitorous heart leapt at the sight of him, and she longed to run to him, to know his thoughts, to comfort him in his pain, but instead she just stood there watching.

  Soon, Blake rose, said something to Hayden then walked away. Hayden rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the fire with such anguish, it brought tears to her eyes.

  Slipping from the shadows, she entered the clearing, halting when her footsteps brought his gaze to hers. Eyes the color of the jungle assessed her as if she were some unearthly being. Pain clouded them before they hardened like jade.

  “Hayden, I…” Magnolia took a step toward him, but he held up a hand.

  He faced the fire again, his Adam’s apple diving in his throat.

  “We should talk,” Magnolia said.

  “I can’t.”

  “I had no idea he was—”

  “I know.” His cold, distant tone carved a hole in her heart.

  “I’m so sorry, Hayden. I’m sorry he hurt you. He hurt me too. Lied to me. Ruined my family.”

  The strident rasp of crickets filled the air. Above her, a cloud cloaked the moon, stealing away its milky light. “Are you angry with me?”

  “You were engaged to my father.” He breathed out the words as if still in shock.

  Magnolia swallowed, forcing back tears. Only a few hours ago Hayden had gazed at her with such love. Now his eyes were cold and hard. “What does it matter?”

  “You and he, you—” Again repugnance braided his expression. “Every time I see you…every time I look at you, I will see him. I will see him and you…together.”

  “Well, we are not together now!” Magnolia fumed. “And we haven’t been for years. Are you going to be equally repulsed by every man I’ve ever courted?”

  He kicked a rock and fisted hands at his waist. “No. Just my father.”

  A terrible fear began to wind its way through her soul. “How can you be angry at me for something I did in complete innocence? Surely if either of us has a right to be mad, it is I, since it was one of your relatives, your very father, who ruined my family.”

  Snorting, he raked his hand through his hair and moved to the other side of the fire as if he couldn’t stand being close to her.

  “Do you think this is easy for me?” Though she’d wanted to sound angry, her voice came out a whimper. “You already swindled me once. Perhaps you are your father’s son, after all.”

  He crossed arms over his chest, steely and defiant. Why was he behaving this way? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Desperate, she reached out to him, clinging to the hope of his love. “But I want to trust you, Hayden. All you need do is tell me I can. Tell me one more time that I can.”

  Nothing but the crackle of fire and buzz of katydids met her e
ars. “Please, talk to me.” A tear slid down her cheek.

  Still no response.

  Dread sank in her gut. “What does this mean for us, Hayden?”

  His eyes rose to hers over the fire, the flames reflecting his pain. “I don’t know if there is an us.”

  Knife in hand, Hayden whittled a fresh piece of wood, his anger chipping away at the branch with no design in mind. Much like his life. Lots of cuts and chips and broken parts that formed nothing but a nonsensical shape without beauty or reason. Dawn had broken an hour ago and still he sat in the same spot, ignoring everyone around him and even refusing a plate of fruit Eliza had offered. One thought consumed his mind, and one thought alone—revenge. Even as one feeling consumed his heart. Pain. Pain at the loss of Magnolia. Yet the two were so inextricably connected, he could not separate them. Both cut through his soul, leaving him bitter and empty. The former with a ravenous desire to fill, the latter with a hopelessness he’d never experienced. He hated hurting Magnolia, hated the anguish in her eyes when he’d proclaimed an end to their brief courtship. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t look at her without envisioning her in his father’s arms.

  Speaking of the monster, Patrick finally strolled into the clearing, nodding his greeting at everyone and thanking them when they expressed concern for his injuries. As he passed to grab a plate of fruit, his eyes brushed over Hayden. A new confidence—a smugness—made its home deep within them as if he knew Hayden could not touch him. Unfortunately for Patrick, he was wrong.

  “You aren’t getting any ideas.” Blake’s voice speared conviction through Hayden’s thoughts as the colonel took a seat beside him.

  “No.” He continued whittling. None that he’d tell Blake. Unless Blake agreed to toss Patrick from the colony so Hayden could hunt him down like the animal he was. But he knew the honorable colonel would never do that. No, Hayden would have to wait to find his father alone. Then he’d knock him out, tie him up, and deposit him in the middle of Brazil far away from New Hope. The cultured coxcomb wouldn’t survive two days in the wild. A fitting punishment for someone who stripped his victims of all their comforts and security and left them to die.

  Patrick’s laughter drew Hayden’s gaze. His father sat with two women from his colony, both staring at him adoringly and giggling at his every word. The seductive curve of his mouth, the gleam of interest in his eye, his engaging chuckle, the way he looked at each woman as if she were a rare treasure, Hayden knew those tactics well. He’d used them on countless women himself.

  “What are you going to do about Mr. Scott?” Hayden asked, noting that the colonel’s gaze was also locked on Patrick. “I’m not the only one who wants Patrick Gale dead.”

  Before Blake could answer, the man in question barreled into the clearing like a steaming locomotive, Mr. Dodd at his side. The two men halted before Patrick. “Arrest this man at once!” Mr. Scott pointed at Hayden’s father.

  With a groan, Blake excused himself and headed toward the altercation. Hayden followed, the irony of his agreeing with Mr. Scott, for once, not lost on him.

  Blake halted beside Dodd. “What’s all the fuss?”

  Several colonists stopped eating and glanced at the group, while others gathered around.

  “The fuss, if you must know”—Mr. Scott gave him a superior look—“is that I’m having this thief arrested. Mr. Dodd was a sheriff back home. Ergo, he is best suited to be the law here. At least until we can set up a proper election or however they work it in Brazil.” He scanned the mob and, upon realizing he had an audience, raised his voice. “We have three witnesses who can testify that this man robbed me and my family of all we owned.”

  “Absurd!” one of the women at Patrick’s side exclaimed.

  Patrick plopped a slice of orange in his mouth and smiled.

  Dodd scratched his head. “Well, I suppose I could oblige you if we had a proper jail.”

  “We can lock him in the tunnels you told me about, Mr. Dodd. You mentioned there were chains down there.”

  “No one is arresting anyone,” Blake said.

  Patrick nodded. “At last, a word of reason.” The ladies breathed a sigh of relief.

  Mr. Scott bunched his fists. The lines framing his mouth seemed to have deepened overnight. “Colonel, this man is a criminal and must be punished.”

  Hayden stepped forward. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Mumbles of both protest and agreement thundered through the colonists.

  “Hold up, everyone.” Blake raised a hand. “Is anyone here a witness to the theft of Mr. Scott’s wealth?” When all grew silent, Blake continued, “I thought not. Then, Mr. Scott, I’m afraid it is your family’s word against Patrick’s.”

  “Are you calling me a liar, Colonel?”

  “No. I’m simply saying we don’t have enough proof.” Blake shifted weight off his bad leg. “Besides, as Mr. Dodd said, we have no jail, no judge, and no jury. If you want to see justice done, I suggest you escort Mr. Gale back to the States.”

  “Why would the man come with me, when all that waits him is the noose?!” Mr. Scott shouted, his baleful eyes narrowing upon Patrick.

  The man merely shrugged and rubbed his goatee. “Why would I leave Brazil to waste time and money on a trial that would surely declare me innocent?”

  Mr. Scott lunged for Patrick, but James leapt between them and forced the old plantation owner back.

  “You can’t just let him run free!” Mr. Scott blazed.

  Blake rubbed his forehead.“What would you have me do with him?”

  “String him up on a tree.”

  “Here, here,” Hayden agreed, drawing his father’s reptilian eyes.

  “You know I cannot do that.” Annoyance edged Blake’s tone.

  “I appreciate that, Colonel.” Patrick smiled. Handing his plate to one of the women, he rose, brushed off his waistcoat, and gazed over the crowd. “Your colony has chosen a wise and just leader.”

  Ah, now the flattery began. Hayden’s stomach curdled. But, thankfully, Blake didn’t seem to fall for it.

  “However, Mr. Gale.” The colonel stared the man down with that I’m-in-command-and-you-will-obey look he must have given his troops on the battlefield. “That something unlawful occurred between you and the Scotts, I have no doubt. Simply because I don’t have the means to discover what that is, doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping a firm eye upon you and your activities in our town. Should I find even the slightest hint of anything nefarious in your dealings with anyone, you will be banished from this colony. Do I make myself clear, sir?”

  A flicker of anger, a promise of defiance, crossed Patrick’s eyes before they clouded over with seeming compliance. “Of course, Colonel. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  The lady to Patrick’s right stood and brushed aside her chocolate brown curls. “Colonel Blake, is it? You are quite mistaken about Owen…this man you call Patrick. He is a noble man of the highest character.” She sent a spiteful glance toward Mr. Scott. “He couldn’t possibly have done what this man claims.”

  Other members of Patrick’s colony shouted their agreement.

  Mr. Scott seemed about to lose his breakfast. Patrick, on the other hand, nodded his thanks to his admirers before he turned to address Dodd. “Mr. Dodd, I heard you were searching for gold, sir.”

  Suspicion clouded the ex-lawman’s face as he clipped his thumbs into his belt. “What’s it to you?”

  “Well,” he began, drawing the man in. “I happen to have a map…an old pirate’s map.” Patrick raised dark brows.

  “So do I.” Dodd twitched his crooked nose, studying the man.

  “Great news, great news. Precisely what I’d hoped.” Patrick rubbed his hands together. “You see, my map is one of three. Perhaps yours is another?” Reaching into his waistcoat pocket, Patrick pulled out a crinkled piece of vellum, carefully unfolded it, and showed it to Dodd, whose eyes widened at the sight.

  “It does look similar to mine,” Dodd said. “B
ut I found nothing at the spot it led me to. Just another piece…of…”—Dodd’s words slowed as realization rolled over his face—“a…map.”

  “Indeed?” Patrick grinned. “Mr. Dodd, I do believe we need to talk.” He glanced over the crowd. “In private.”

  Mr. Scott jerked from James’s grasp. “What does this have to do with this man’s arrest?”

  Patrick thrust out his chin. “It has everything to do with your complaint, Mr. Scott. For here is what I propose. You say I stole money from you. I say I did not. However, I am a fair and generous man, and I do feel badly for you and your wife and, of course, your lovely daughter.”

  At the mention of Magnolia, his gaze brushed over Hayden, and the look of victory in his eyes nearly caused Hayden to draw his pistol and shoot the man on the spot. But that would be too nice a death.

  “And besides,” Patrick continued. “Whatever sort of man you thought I was before, by the very testimonies of the people who have spent months living with me, you can see that I am different—transformed, as it were.” One arm drawn over his chest, he bowed toward Mr. Scott. “I wish to make amends for whatever harm you perceive I’ve done to you.”

  Hayden glanced over the crowd, expecting to hear rumbles of laughter, or at the very least, see eyes rolling in disbelief, but they all stood mesmerized by the man.

  “Mr. Dodd and I will find this gold, I assure you.” Patrick raised his voice for all to hear. “And when we do, I shall pay you and your lovely wife every penny you say I stole. How does that sound?”

  “Why would you do that if you aren’t guilty?” James eyed the man with suspicion.

  “Because I am generous. And because if the information regarding this treasure is true, there’ll be more than enough gold to pay this man and make us all rich!”

  Nausea clambered up Hayden’s throat. How could anyone believe such nonsense? But Mr. Scott made no protest. Instead, a hint of greed flashed in his eyes.

  “Those pirates certainly thought there was a fortune here,” one of the colonists said.

  “But the gold is mine.” Dodd frowned.