Bandit's Hope

by Marcia Gruver

  "So do I." He patted her hand. "I really miss the old man."

  Dawsey tilted her head. "Do you ever wonder what might’ve happened if the Wilkeses and McRaes hadn’t found each other? I’d never have known I had a sister." She pointed between them. "Or that we share a sister, as madly improper as it sounds unless you know the story. And—the most amazing part of all—that you and I would fall in love and get married, forever blending our families."

  He laughed. "Take a breath before you grow faint."

  She fanned her flushed face. "I’m sorry, but after all these years, I’m still awed by the way God worked out the details."

  Hooper smiled. "If you think about it, our families were blended from the day Pa brought our Ellie home."

  Dawsey wrinkled her forehead. "You mean the day he kidnapped our Dilsey Elaine to raise as his own." She seemed to stare into the past. "I never thought I could forgive your father, but as it happens, Silas McRae is an irresistibly charming man."

  Familiar tightness stung Hooper’s throat. "I’ll always admire the Colonel for forgiving Pa. It meant so much to him."

  Glancing at his brimming eyes, Dawsey fished for her hankie and wiped tears from her cheeks. "I was awfully proud of Father. Showing mercy to the McRaes didn’t come easy for a man like him."

  They rode in silence until Dawsey nudged his shoulder. "If you think about it, God used Tiller to bring us all together. If I hadn’t taken him under my wing, and if you hadn’t come to Fayetteville on a mission to return him to Scuffletown, we never would’ve known such joy."

  Hooper chuckled. "You’re right. One skinny, carrot-topped boy set the whole thing in motion. Only Tiller ran away before he saw how well things turned out."

  She inhaled sharply. "And we never got to thank him."

  Hooper draped his arm around her and tugged her close. "Don’t despair, Dawsey. Our visit home could change all that." He squeezed her shoulders. "And speaking of home, look … we’re here."

  Spirits soaring, Hooper turned the wagon down the lane to his old homestead. Peering to see in the early morning light, he could just make out the cabin in the distance. As they drew closer, a dim light shone from the open doorway, and milling shapes were gathering on the porch.

  "They’ve heard us coming." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Won’t they be surprised to see it’s us?"

  A fact Hooper would soon make clear if he had to call out their names. Despite the few years of relative peace throughout the swamp, there would be half a dozen guns trained on the rig.

  Dawsey shifted her weight impatiently. "I still say you should’ve wired ahead."

  He shook his head. "The old man knows I’d never leave our farm this time of year. He’d have worried fit to bust until we arrived." He blew a long breath through his nostrils. "I wish we were here on a pleasure trip instead of this distasteful business."

  "We’ll get the unpleasantness out of the way first," Dawsey said, patting his hand. "Then we can enjoy ourselves with the family." She peeked up at him. "What do you think Silas will say when he hears the shocking news we’re bringing?"

  Hooper’s stomach lurched. "He’ll start all over again blaming himself that Tiller ran off." He tightened his jaw. "I don’t relish causing him hurt, but I have to tell him, Dawsey. I have no choice."

  She squeezed his fingers. "Of course you don’t." Her eyes sparkling, Dawsey pointed at a slim figure standing on the porch. "Oh, Hooper! I think that’s Dilsey." She leaned to squint. "Yes, Dilsey’s here, and so are Wyatt and the boys."

  He shot her a pained glance. "Do you plan to call her that the whole time we’re here? If so, tell me now while there’s still time to turn around. I’m not in the mood for Ellie’s temper."

  Her darting eyes trained on the cabin, Dawsey dragged her attention back to him. "Don’t be silly. I’m the only person Dilsey tolerates on that score, but she allows me the one small indulgence." She gave him a look from under her lashes. "It’s her real name, after all."

  "Try to convince Ellie … only wait till I’m out of the house."

  Smiling, Dawsey pointed with her chin. "Speaking of the house, I don’t believe it’s changed one whit."

  Hooper gazed toward the ramshackle cabin. Smoke poured from the skinny stovepipe on the sagging roof. Firewood stacked high on the rickety front porch nearly covered the dirt-smeared windows. Shimmering puddles in the waterlogged yard mirrored the surrounding trees.

  "You’re right." He beamed at Dawsey. "Not a whit."

  A high-pitched scream followed by a dancing, bobbing ruckus meant the family had identified the wagon.

  As Hooper pulled to a stop a few yards from the beaming hoard on the porch, Dawsey leaned to whisper. "Don’t say anything right away. It’ll spoil their fun."

  He lifted one brow. "What happened to getting the unpleasantness out of the way?" Climbing down, he winced from the stiffness and turned to help her to the ground.

  She puckered her face at him, but anything else she thought to say got swallowed up in Pa’s welcoming shouts and Mama’s sloppy kisses.

  Dawsey flew into Ellie’s waiting arms, both women laughing and crying at once.

  Pa squeezed between them and yanked Dawsey into his burly arms. "Little Dawsey. You’re a delight for these old eyes. How’s my boy treating you?"

  "Hooper still pampers me like a bride, Silas."

  "Well, he’d better," Pa shouted. "Else I’ll twist his ears."

  He spun. "Hooper, blast your hide! You don’t come home near as often as you should."

  Hooper winked at Dawsey. "See? Pa knows where home is."

  With tears streaking her rosy cheeks, Ellie gave a war whoop and slung herself at Hooper.

  He lifted and twirled her around, then set her on the ground, his arm crooked around her neck. "Have you given Wyatt plenty of trouble, little sister?"

  She gave a solemn nod. "Every day."

  Hooper gripped Wyatt’s offered hand. "It’s been awhile."

  Wyatt’s fingers tightened. "It sure has."

  Ellie’s four boys shoved closer, the elder twins waiting their turns with silly grins. When the grown-ups gave them room, they bolted for Dawsey and Hooper, clinging until Wyatt plucked them off.

  One of the younger twins gaped at Dawsey, his brow furrowed under the cowlick in his hair. Squeezing between his parents, he tugged on her skirt. "Hey, you look like our ma."

  His identical brother curled his lip. "She ain’t nothing like our ma. She’s too prissy and girlie."

  Ellie gripped their necks, ignoring their howls. "This prissy lady is your Aunt Dawsey, sprouts. Go on and give her a hug."

  Dawsey knelt in front of them. "Don’t you remember me, boys? You’ve seen me many times before, though I’ll admit it’s been awhile."

  Never one to let the point of a matter ramble in the dark, Papa ushered them toward the steps. "Let’s move this shindig inside, family, so they can tell us why they’ve come." He clamped his meaty hand on Hooper’s shoulder, a tiny frown gathering on his brow. "I get the feeling there’s far more to this visit than a long overdue howdy."

  TWELVE

  Mariah knelt in the cold, wet patch of grass covering her father’s grave, the ground beneath her lumpy from unsettled clods of dirt.

  With no windbreak on the rise, the morning breeze flapped her scarf against her face. The whistling wind in the overhead branches sang a haunting song, an endless tale of loss and broken hearts.

  Contrary to the rest of God’s creation, trees slipped into bright green coats to brave the sweltering heat only to shed their clothes and dance naked through the winter, waving their bare arms and groaning in protest. The foolish practice made as little sense as the mess Mariah had made of her life.

  "Aki, tell me what to do. I’m lost without you." She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand under her nose. "I’m hurting Miss Vee, though I never meant to, and I know her sorrow would not please you."

  Mariah had watched over the past months as her father had warmed
toward the spunky, determined redhead. He’d begun to watch Miss Vee fondly as she went about her chores, a secret smile on his lips and a growing tenderness in the lines of his face.

  How could Mariah tell her? Father did care, dear lady. He’d come to admire you greatly, only now I’m afraid he’s quite dead.

  She leaned over and gripped her face. "Miss Vee will be so angry when she finds out I’ve deceived her. Robbed her of the chance to grieve."

  Mariah’s head came up and snapped around to the other grave as if Mother had stepped across and caught her by the chin.

  Promise, daughter. You must promise. Mother had pleaded until Mariah swore an oath to keep the land. Then she’d closed her eyes and slipped away, leaving her only child with a pledge she didn’t know how to keep.

  Mariah buried her fingers in the thick Mississippi grass, the land her mother’s people had owned for decades under article fourteen of the Treaty of Dancing Rabbit Creek. Since then, her tribe had suffered indignities at the hands of greedy settlers. Hoping to drive the Choctaw off their land, these men had taunted them, burned their homes, torn down fences, and driven out their cattle.

  They succeeded with Mariah’s Uncle Joe and many others of her family. Father’s name had protected her mother. Mother loved Bell’s Inn and loved Father all the more for securing it for her. Running the inn made her feel like a great lady, not a mongrel only fit for the reservation.

  A proud member of the Pearl River Clan of the Choctaw, Onnat Minti Bell loved the land even more. As a child, she raced along the same sandy bank as Mariah. Ran barefoot through the same backyard. Visited her mother’s grave on the same grassy knoll.

  Mariah cast a sheepish glance behind her. On the high bluff where she knelt lay the bones of generations of her ancestors, their unspoken hope a pressing burden.

  Spinning, she scowled at Mother’s tombstone. "It was Father’s promise to make, yet you asked it of me?" She brought her fists down on her legs. "Why charge it to me? It’s too heavy."

  Oh Aki, why indeed?

  Mariah knew the answer, one she’d never speak aloud. Her lighthearted father took one day at a time and lived as carefree as possible. He left responsible matters for Mother to tend, and when she died, the burden fell to Mariah. If Father had sworn to protect the land for Mariah and her children, he’d have died a failure. Mariah was her mother’s only chance.

  Gabriel Taber’s jowly face and slack mouth flashed in her mind. He wasn’t a God-fearing man, a fact that grieved her. No matter. She’d have to stop putting him off. The time had come to put her plan into motion.

  With a shuddering sigh, Mariah pushed to her feet. Shading her eyes, she watched the Pearl River meander past on its way to places she’d never been. She wondered what it would be like to sail off the bank into the rippling brown water and go along for the ride. She’d cross her arms behind her head and float belly-up along the mud banks and sandy shores, the groves and cypress swamps, on past Jackson and down to the open seas—the inn and her promise be hanged.

  Instead, she did what she’d always done. Girding herself under the oppressive weight of duty, she hoisted her lie and the promise to her shoulders and trudged to the tree where Sheki waited, his neck stretched so far toward a tasty bush his reins were taut enough to strum.

  "Leave it, beast." Mariah pulled him around to a stump and mounted him bareback. "If you had your way, there’d be nothing green left in Madison County except for buttonbush, and then only because they’re poison." She smiled to herself. Lucky thing they were bitter, or the gluttonous pony would wind up on his back, belly bloated, and stiff legs aimed for the sky.

  Tangling her fingers in Sheki’s mane, she whispered in his ear. He lifted his head and broke into a trot. Tensing her legs, Mariah tightened her hold on the little paint’s neck.

  "Kil-ia!"

  Sheki’s nostrils flared and his muscles gathered beneath her. He bolted, and Mariah curled close to his body.

  Cold air blasted her face. She gulped and ducked her head. The wind tore at her scarf, the knot working loose from under her chin. The flimsy cloth trailed behind her until a sudden gust wrenched it away. She didn’t dare turn loose to catch it.

  They thundered past the birch grove and roared into the yard, scattering chickens and raising dust. Mariah slid to the ground bubbling over with a jumble of laughter and tears—until a flash of color caught the corner of her eye. Peeking over Sheki’s back, she cringed and ducked her head.

  Miss Vee and Tiller stood gaping at her from just inside the barn.

  The ladder slid to the ground with a clatter, but Tiller hardly noticed. In all his years, he’d never seen a more fetching sight.

  Mariah’s dark eyes flashed and her chest heaved. Waist-length hair, tangled by the wind, puffed like shiny black tumbleweed around her delicate seashell ears. The deep flush of high spirits tinted her mouth and cheeks a glorious rosy hue. The genteel daughter of the innkeeper had become a wild and beautiful creature.

  Defiantly meeting his stare, Mariah gathered her hair over one shoulder and lifted her chin. "I see you’re finally starting to work."

  Startled from his trance by her voice, he realized his lips had parted. He clamped them shut and nodded. "Miss Vee showed me where you keep the tools."

  As if sprung into action by the sound of his voice, Miss Vee bustled toward Mariah. "Gracious, child. What have you been tromping through?"

  Leaving the ladder, Tiller followed, stealing a peek at Mariah’s feet. Clumps of mud clung to them in thick gobs, and red clay oozed between her toes. At least four inches of her hem was soaking wet.

  "I—went for a walk," Mariah stammered. "Along the river."

  Miss Vee’s forehead crinkled. "Last we saw, you were talking to Rainy."

  "Yes, I finished with him and decided to take Sheki out for a while."

  "At this time of day?"

  "I had a sudden impulse. It’s such a nice, cool morning."

  "Before your chores?" The older woman pressed, ignoring her explanation. "What were you thinking?"

  Mariah’s delicate brows lowered. "I was thinking to take a ride. Why are you questioning me?"

  "Because it’s not like you. With your father away, you have added responsibilities."

  Mariah’s fiery gaze flashed hotter. "I’ll thank you to mind your business. I’ll run this inn as I see fit."

  Miss Vee’s temper ignited to meet hers. "I don’t understand your behavior, young lady. Something is quite off kilter." She scowled. "Just look at you, straddling a horse in a dress, showing off your knees to half of Mississippi. You have mud up to your ankles and grass stains covering the front of your skirt." She bent to dust off Mariah’s garment. "Have you been crawling on the ground?"

  With a sharp inhalation, Mariah yanked the fabric out of her reach. "Certainly not."

  Straightening, Miss Vee’s chest heaved. "Mariah Bell, if your father was here, why he’d—"

  Mariah glared. "Well, he’s not! And try to remember you’re not my mother."

  Miss Vee drew back, flushed as bright as her hair. Shock and pain darkened her green eyes. "I hardly recognize you." Clutching her blotchy face, she whirled for the back door.

  Snatching up her pony’s leads, Mariah stomped inside the barn.

  Captive, Tiller followed.

  At the stall, she flung the door open and slapped the animal hard on the rump. "Hurry up, you worthless fat horse."

  The pony startled then hustled through the gate like a chastened child.

  Mariah slung the door closed, fastened it, then spun around—stopping with a muted cry at the sight of Tiller. "What are you doing in here?" She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you following me? Don’t you have work to do?"

  As surprised to be standing behind her as Mariah was to find him there, Tiller couldn’t answer the first question. The second seemed a whole lot like the first, so he let it pass and went for the third. "I reckon I have plenty to do." He held up the hammer still clutched in one hand. "At the m
oment, I’m supposed to be up on your roof, but I wanted to make sure you’re all right."

  "Why wouldn’t I be?" Her scowl would blister paint.

  He shrugged. "I get the feeling you women don’t usually go at each other like that." He nodded at the pony. "Or you and the horse."

  Mariah’s gaze dropped to the ground, and her pretty mouth puckered. Tears brimmed perilously close to spilling, and she chewed her bottom lip so hard Tiller winced.

  He took a step closer. "Mariah?"

  With a moan, she lunged to open the stall door and fling her arms around the horse’s neck. "Oh, Sheki. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?"

  Obviously deciding to forgive, the handsome animal stood still while Mariah pressed her forehead against the side of his face.

  "Miss Vee’s right. I don’t recognize myself either."

  Tiller took off his hat. "Is there … anything I can do?"

  Mariah shook her head against the pony. "There’s nothing anyone can do." She peeked at him. "Though I’d appreciate your pardon for our behavior. I’m ashamed we aired our grievance in front of a guest."

  Tiller grinned and wiggled the hammer. "I don’t qualify as a guest anymore. I’m officially part of this operation."

  Mariah lowered her lashes, a faint smile softening her lips. "So it’s all right to rail like shrews as long as we confine it to the staff?" She straightened, staring toward the house. "I suppose I’d best go mend things with Miss Vee, or she’ll mourn herself sick. I do regret saying those things to her. She’s been good to me since my mother died."

  Tightening the grip on his hat brim, Tiller ducked his head. "I’m real sorry."

  "Thank you." She smiled. "It’s been two years, but I miss her every day." Mariah left the stall and brushed past him to lean against the rail. "Miss Vee’s been the closest thing to a mother ever since. I can’t believe I spoke so harshly to her."

  Tiller nodded. "I suspected you two were more like family than anything else. I know she can’t take your ma’s place, but she sure does fret like one."

  Mariah studied his face. "What about you? Is it true you don’t have a family? A wife or mother somewhere who worries about you?"