As she passed the last of the homes along the road, her gaze scanned the bayou along both sides. Her tension slowly eased. The swamp, even with its innate danger at so many turns, offered silent comfort. The varied shades and depths of greens, the songs of the birds, the hum of insects, the rustle of the palmetto fronds and cypress lace calmed her jangled nerves. She took a deep breath and rode on.
Please. Let me find her.
She had no idea how to pray. Dexter hadn’t been beholden to any god and had raised his tribe to answer to no one but him. Yet in her darkest moments, Maddie always found herself seeking solace, asking for mercy, asking for help from somewhere, someone, although she had no notion of whom that might be.
Lost in her thoughts, she let the mare plod along at her own pace, unwilling to push the old nag and have it drop dead under her. Suddenly, not far from the outskirts of Clearwater, she saw a flash of color in the foliage along the road. Something unnatural to the surroundings. Something that gave her pause.
She reined in but remained in the saddle, scanning the undergrowth just beyond the road.
Nothing.
Thinking she’d been wrong, she was about to ride on when she saw it again.
There. A flash of bright red against the green winding its way through the forest.
Silently she slipped off the mare and led her over to a willow with a broken branch. She found it strong enough to hold the reins, wrapped them quickly. Grabbing her shotgun, she began to carefully pick her way through the marsh. She brushed aside curtains of leaves, pausing now and again to scan her surroundings, to listen for the crack of a twig or the rustle of debris.
Nothing. Nothing … until she heard someone humming. Afraid of making a single sound, she crept toward the music. Within a few feet she saw it again — scarlet against the green.
She reached out, gently pushed aside an overhanging willow branch.
In a small clearing, Penelope sat on a log with her back to Maddie. She was humming “Rock-a-Bye Baby,” then softly chatting and pretending to pour tea for a rag doll seated across from her.
Maddie’s heart pounded. She took a step closer … and snapped a twig beneath her shoe. The sound was overly loud in the silence.
Without even glancing back, the child jumped to her feet and started to run. The rag doll fell face down into the decaying leaves. Maddie stepped over it as she burst into the small clearing. Holding her shotgun tight in one hand, she took off after Penelope.
The way the girl evaded her astounded Maddie. She zigged and zagged through the trees and undergrowth as if she’d been born in the swamp. But Maddie’s longer stride gave her advantage, and before they went hopelessly deep into the forest, Maddie reached out and made a grab for the child. Not only did she catch hold of the cape, but she managed to get a firm grip on the little girl’s arm.
She whipped the girl around … and stared in shock at the face of a child she didn’t recognize. Surprise loosened her grip long enough for the girl to bolt and run again. This time Maddie was close enough to grab her. She whirled the girl around and stared down into the upturned, dirt-streaked face. The hood on the cape fell back, revealing strawberry-blonde braids.
“Who are you and where did you get that cape?” Maddie demanded. It was definitely Penelope’s. There was no one in Clearwater who could afford such a well-tailored garment lined with such fine fur.
“I never stole it.” The girl stuck out her lower lip and tried to pull out of Maddie’s grasp.
“I never said you did. Where did you get it? I know it’s not yours.”
“It is mine.” The girl nudged the toe of her worn shoe in the decaying leaves on the forest floor.
Maddie gave her arm a shake but softened her tone. “You may as well tell me. I’m not letting you go until you do.”
“My pa will kill you if you harm one hair on my head.”
“Your pa isn’t here.”
“She gave it to me.”
“Who?”
“That girl. Penelope. She said I could have it if I —”
“If you what?”
“If I helped her get away.” Tears began to trace muddy tracks down the child’s face as she eyed the shotgun.
Maddie was afraid the child would start bawling, so she calmed herself down and led the girl back to where she’d been having her tea party. Maddie set down her gun, picked up the rag doll, and handed it over. The girl clutched it close.
“What’s your name?”
“Betty.”
“Betty what?”
“Betty Stanton.”
“Clement your daddy?” Maddie pictured the blacksmith.
Betty was wise to look frightened. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Well, Betty, I know your daddy real well, so you don’t need to be scared of me. Let’s sit a spell, and you tell me all about Penelope. Start at the beginning.”
Betty’s breath hitched. She sat down on a log and rested her chin on her cupped hands.
“Go on,” Maddie prompted. “Tell me about how you got the cape.”
“I found her in the old shed behind the house.”
“Penelope.”
“Yep. I found her after the storm. I was looking for my cat. She just had a whole passel of kittens and—”
“I want to know about Penelope, not the cat.”
Betty wiped her nose on the back of her arm. “She told me she was headed to Kentuck', to her mama’s kin, and asked if I could help her get there. I said we should ask my pa for help. She begged me not to tell nobody, that her mamma and daddy had enough troubles lately and that she wanted to surprise them by gettin’ there on her own. Said I should help her, seein’ as how we’re the same age and all. Said I could have her cape if I helped and didn’t tell nobody.” Betty shrugged. “So I found her a way to Kentuck'.”
Maddie lowered herself to the log across from Betty and sat down heavily.
Penelope was headed to Kentucky on her own as if it was the next town down the road. Maddie was astounded by Penelope’s pluck.
“Where is she now?”
“On the way to Kentuck', of course.”
“On foot?” If she kept to the road, Maddie was certain she could track down the child in no time at all — if someone else hadn’t already picked her up.
But Betty shook her head. “Nope. My grandpa was going to Parkville, up north of here.”
“He agreed to take her?” She couldn’t imagine a grown man with any sense letting an eight-year-old talk him into taking her anywhere alone. Then again, there were some men — unscrupulous, dangerous men—who wouldn’t have thought twice.
Betty shook her head no. “He didn’t know nuthin’ about it. I put her in the back of his buckboard and covered her up with a tarp. He was haulin’ cane to Parkville.”
“How far away is that?”
Betty shrugged.
“When did they leave?”
“Hours ago. Just after first light.”
“Headed north?”
“Yep.” Betty rubbed the ermine cape lining against her cheek and sighed. Then she unfastened the silk frog at the neck of the cape, slowly slipped it off, and handed it over to Maddie.
“I ‘spect you’ll want to give this back when you find her.”
Maddie took the cape and folded it over and over. It felt a bit damp but was no worse for wear.
“Didn’t your folks ask where you got this?”
“I never showed it to them. Kept it out here at my secret spot.” She picked up her doll and held it close again. “I surely do love that cape.” Betty sighed.
“It’s lovely, that’s certain.” Maddie forced herself to be patient. Having dealt with Penelope, Maddie knew it wasn’t Betty’s fault that she’d been badgered into helping. Given enough time, Miss Penelope Perkins could probably talk a muskrat out of its pelt.
Maddie smiled down at Betty. “Now, why don’t you tell me what your grandpa looks like and where he usually stops along the way to Parkville?”
CHAPTER 12
It took Tom hours to return to the bayou and Maddie’s cabin.
He tried to imagine what she would say when he confronted her with Penelope’s silver comb. Obviously an accomplished liar, would she continue to feign ignorance?
It was almost dark when he reached the shanty on the water. The interior of the place was shadowed. He called out and knocked on the door, finding it unlocked. And the place empty.
Frustrated by imminent nightfall, he stabled his horse in the shed and made himself at home. But Maddie never returned. After a restless night trying to sleep with one eye open, he rummaged through her larder until he found soda crackers and cold biscuits and helped himself. Then he mounted up and headed for Clearwater.
Along the way he noticed a white poster nailed to a tree up ahead. He nudged his horse into a canter, thinking it might be one of Perkins’s reward posters. What he discovered was not a reward poster but a playbill announcing performances by a troupe of actors. The poster touted them as being “well versed in the works of Shakespeare and various original plays.” They were touring the back roads of Louisiana hoping “to ease the woes brought on by the chaos and upheaval that once descended over the land.”
Tom rode on. The closer he came to the small settlement, the more dwellings he saw lining the road. When he finally reached Clearwater and began to nose around, he realized the local inhabitants were highly suspicious of outsiders. Inside the town’s trading post, he asked the owner for directions to Anita Russo’s cabin.
“I doubt she’s there,” the man replied. “She been out searching for her runaway niece. The poor child went missing a few days back.”
“Her niece.” Tom rested his elbow against the counter.
“She was through here asking if anyone had seen the girl, about eight years old.”
Hiding a rush of anger, Tom studied scuff marks in the oak countertop. He recalled how Russo’s sudden appearance had had Maddie acting as nervous as a sparrow in a nest of crows.
For a moment he pictured Maddie’s sure hands, her confidence in the swamp, her fleeting, wistful smiles. If she had let him go along with her in order to soften his heart, it had worked. His attraction to her had tainted his objectivity. She’d been part of the blackhearted scheme all along, and she’d managed to keep him from getting to the truth.
The twins had left the girl with Maddie and the Russo woman, and somehow Penelope had escaped. He wondered if Maddie was worried about the child wandering around the bayou alone or if she even had a conscience.
Then, out of nowhere, he recalled her words: “A mother’s heart can’t bear losing a child like that —”
He forced himself to concentrate on the facts at hand. He’d found the comb. Maddie had had the child at some point in time. Now Penelope had somehow given Maddie and the Russo woman the slip and they were both searching for her.
He had to find Penelope before they did, and would make certain Maddie was held accountable for her part in the kidnapping. Russo too.
“Can you tell me how to find Anita’s place? I’ve a message for Maddie Grande.”
The other man eyed him suspiciously. “How do you know Maddie Grande?”
“I’ve got a message for her from Terrance.”
The storekeep frowned at the mention of Terrance’s name. He though it over a minute and then said, “Maddie took the road north yesterday and hasn’t been back.”
“You sure?”
“Did you see those codgers settin’ on the front porch? Nothing gets past them. If she’d have come through, I’d know about it.”
It was nightfall once more. Maddie hadn’t relished sleeping in an abandoned shack on the swamp last night, nor did she feel any easier about camping out tonight, but she had survived the streets of New Orleans thanks to Dexter and now, thanks to Anita, she knew how to survive in the bayou.
She found a small clearing surrounded by oaks and cypress with enough dry wood and sticks to use for kindling. She gathered a few stones for a fire ring and started a fire, kept it low enough to hold critters at bay and yet not be seen from afar.
Unrolling a saddle blanket, she spread it in front of Anita’s saddle and sat down with her shotgun across her lap. She dined on cold, dry biscuits and some slices of ham she’d wrapped in a dish towel and then stared at the glowing embers, fighting sleep.
A slight breeze moved through the treetops. In her mind she heard them whisper her name. Shadows thrown by the flames danced on the forest floor. She tightened her hands on the shotgun and cursed Terrance for putting her in this situation.
Tomorrow she would not push herself as long. She’d leave the road, find a secluded spot, and sleep while the sun was still high. That way if she was forced to camp another night, she would be able to stay awake, to scan the darkness for danger.
Exhaustion claimed her and the dream came with the stealth of most nightmares. She saw the faces of her children, heard their laughter, then suddenly she was a child being tugged through the streets of New Orleans. The faceless girl had a death grip on her hand. The tall scarecrow in black was leading them both.
The long crimson hallway appeared. The faceless girl started screaming …
Maddie let out a cry and awakened. Heart pounding, she straightened against the saddle and stared into the dying embers of the fire … and suddenly remembered where she was. Too late, she started to close her hands around her shotgun, but it no longer rested across her thighs.
Her gaze darted around the clearing. She let out a gasp when she saw the man seated on the ground to her left, watching her from beneath the wide brim of his low-crowned hat. She couldn’t see his dark eyes, but she felt their intensity and his simmering anger.
“That must have been some nightmare,” Tom Abbott said.
She made no comment.
“You cried out before you woke up.”
“What are you doing here?” She was shaking but kept her tone calm and even.
“Same thing you are,” he said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m fairly sure that there’s only one thing that would inspire a lovely lady such as yourself to sleep out here alone in the middle of the night.”
His words dripped with cool sarcasm. She didn’t bother to tell him she hadn’t intended to fall asleep. “And what’s that?”
“Money.”
Her mind raced around in circles until she hit upon a lie.
“You’re right. I came out here to hunt. Thought to get a few extra hides, add the earnings from their sale to my savings. Someone mentioned seeing a panther out here recently. I figured a pelt that fine would earn me a heap of money.”
“A panther.”
“Yes.” It sounded ridiculous and she knew it.
“Seems knowing a panther was around would keep you awake. I figure you’re out here hunting something else.”
Her heart tripped. “And what would that be?”
He brushed aside his coat, reached into the pocket of his vest. When he held out his hand, something caught the red glow of the embers and sparkled in his palm.
She stared at the piece of silver and diamond fragments twisted into a bow and tried to hide her shock.
“That comb was worth a lot of money … One of those big brutes probably took it.”
Maddie ran her tongue over her bottom lip and looked away. “That’s a mighty pretty bobble. Where did you get it?” she asked.
“On the floor of your cabin. Under your bed.”
She had nothing to say, nothing she could say. She stared back in defiance.
“What now?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s no sense in pussyfooting around it anymore. I know you’re involved in the kidnapping of Penelope Perkins, Miss Grande. You have been all along. Those no-account brothers of yours kidnapped her and somehow you or that Russo woman managed to lose her. Now you’re desperate to find her. Why else would you be out here in the middle
of the night?”
“You’re crazy.”
“How do you explain this?” He held out the comb again.
“It’s mine.”
“Funny, but it matches the description of some the kidnapped girl was wearing.”
“The story you read me didn’t mention any combs.”
“Maybe I didn’t read it all to you.”
“Maybe you’re a liar.”
“Something we have in common, then?”
She eyed him carefully, certain that there was no escape, not with him so close. She might be able to bolt, but he’d be on her in an instant.
“You should be glad I found you.” He tucked the comb back into his pocket. “I can keep the panther away while you sleep.”
“I’m safer alone than with you.”
“Miss Grande, I’m offended. Have I ever been anything but polite?”
She was furious. She hated the sarcasm in his tone and, truth be told, she was more than a little disturbed at the way he was looking her. Gone was the admiration she’d seen in his eyes when he’d arrived at her cabin. He was staring at her as if she were no better than the thief and liar she was. Though it shouldn’t have, the notion hurt.
She stared at his coat where it hid his vest pocket. The comb proved her guilt. There was no use arguing.
He shoved his hat back a notch. “How about you go back to sleep? I’ll keep watch, seeing as how I’ve got your shotgun,” he offered.
She didn’t bother answering. For now she had no choice and they both knew it.
Tom had to give her credit for playing her cards close. When he showed her the hair comb, her only reaction had been a slight widening of her eyes, but she knew she’d been caught. He added a few pieces of dry wood to the fire and sat back, watching the way the flickering glow of firelight played across her skin.
In the semidarkness, the details of her mud-brown skirt and oft-mended blouse were muted. Yet even in her ragamuffin clothing, she was lovely. It was easy to picture her turned out in fine clothing, silk and lace and crinolines, her hair styled in a manner befitting a lady. Polished and fluffed and dressed in a gown of high fashion and expense, she would be stunning.
Heart of Lies Page 9