Bandit's Hope

by Marcia Gruver

  He nodded. "I’ll saddle up and come back for my provisions."

  Otis watched Uncle Joe stalk to the door. "I’m going too, ain’t I, Joe?"

  Her uncle chewed inside his cheek for a moment then sighed. "Against my better judgment, Mariah, pack enough for two." He wagged a warning finger. "I won’t slow my pace for you. If you can’t keep up, I’ll send you back alone."

  Otis gave him a quick nod. "Fair enough."

  A knock on the front door pulled them around. Staring at the hallway, Mariah clenched her fists. "Oh please, not today. I have no patience for lodgers."

  Dicey set the dish towel filled with broken china aside and scurried past. "You want me to send them away?"

  Mariah sighed. With her money stolen, she couldn’t afford the luxury of her wishes. "Just answer the door, Dicey. See what they want."

  Uncle Joe returned to the table and picked up his coffee. "I’ll wait here until we find out who they are."

  Exhausted, Mariah sank down at the table to wait. The breakfast she’d labored over had looked so good just moments before. Now its smell turned her stomach.

  Dicey appeared wringing her hands. "They say they don’t need no room for the night. Jus’ a hot meal and coffee, if we please, and to fill their canteens at the pump. They willing to pay."

  Mariah shared a look with Uncle Joe.

  "I need to get on the road," he said. "I won’t leave you alone with a rough bunch of strangers."

  "We need the money." Mariah bit her lip. "I can handle them. I’ve done it before."

  "Not without Viola." He nodded at Dicey. "Bring them in so I can have a look at them."

  She bustled away, returning quickly with two men and a woman trailing behind her. The beautiful redhead was definitely a woman, though she wore jean pants and a youth’s checkered shirt. She strutted into the kitchen ahead of her companions with the quiet confidence of a man.

  Dust from the road covered them in a fine layer, and fatigue lined their faces, but the unmistakable light of decency shone from their eyes.

  "Morning, ma’am," the striking, dark-eyed man said then nodded at Otis and Uncle Joe.

  Uncle Joe shook hands all around. "Mariah, these folks look hungry. See what you can do to fix it."

  "Yes sir," she said, turning to the stove.

  "We need to clean up before we sit at your nice table," the woman said. "We’ve got many a long mile clinging to our hides."

  "Show them to the pump, Dicey," Mariah said. "Take a towel for each of them when you go."

  They returned refreshed and sat at the table, eagerly pouring cups of steaming coffee.

  Mariah found the oddly attractive group so pleasant to look at she could hardly keep from staring.

  Otis, gaping from one to the other, seemed to suffer the same affliction.

  Heaping plates with eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, and buttered biscuits, she passed them around. Grinning, her guests shared a pleased look then tucked into the food.

  The handsome man, his cheeks bulging, beamed at Mariah. "Ma’am, this is the best spread we’ve had in weeks."

  His friend nodded. "Not since we pulled out of Scuffletown."

  Otis shot to his feet. "I knew it! I know just who you are."

  The dark-eyed man sloshed his coffee.

  His friend seemed to bite his tongue.

  The forkful of food headed for the woman’s mouth fell to her plate.

  They stilled, as if scared to move, gazing stupidly at Otis.

  Uncle Joe scowled. "Man, have you lost your senses?"

  Ignoring him, Otis pointed to each of them in turn. "You’re Hooper. You’re Duncan. And you’re Dilsey."

  Staring blankly, the woman slowly shook her head. "No sir. I’m Ellie. And this here’s my husband, Wyatt. But how—"

  "Close enough," Otis crowed.

  Mariah gasped. No wonder these folks struck a chord in her heart. Like Otis, she already knew them from her long talks with Tiller. The family he hadn’t seen in ten long years sat for breakfast around Mariah’s kitchen table.

  FORTY-ONE

  Mariah held her breath and waited, a pulse pounding in her throat.

  The man Otis claimed to be Hooper didn’t deny it. Waking from his daze, he stood. "Tiller’s been here," he announced in a steady voice, his eyes brimming with hope. He glanced at each of them, settling on Mariah. "Is he still?"

  She wondered if he saw the same bond to Tiller she sensed in him.

  "No sir," Otis said. "You just missed him."

  Ellie squealed and sprang up to hug her brother. Turning from the crook of his arm, she swiped at her tears. "Tell us where he is. We’ll go right now."

  Otis cleared his throat. "Well, ma’am, that part’s a little tricky."

  "If he’s coming back, we’ll wait," Hooper said. "No matter how long it takes."

  Uncle Joe’s mouth tensed to a thin white line. "You’ll wait a long time. Tiller’s not welcome here."

  Ellie spun, her green eyes flashing. "Why is that?"

  "Tiller McRae is a thief and a liar," he said. "And a no-account beguiler of women."

  The three stared in disbelief.

  Uncle Joe jutted his chin. "Not to mention a horse thief."

  "Who says?" Ellie demanded, her fists clenched.

  Wyatt’s arm shot out to hold her. "Let him talk, Ellie. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen Tiller. He’s not the young whelp you remember."

  "I don’t care. Tiller’s our kin. He couldn’t be all those things." Her voice wavered. "He just couldn’t."

  "Ask my niece," Uncle Joe said, pointing at Mariah. "The swindler proposed marriage to her when he already has a wife."

  Ellie gasped and covered her mouth.

  Hooper and Wyatt shot troubled frowns over her head.

  "Not only that," Uncle Joe continued, "he robbed our safe last night of every cent we owned. I’m on my way this morning to form a posse and go after him."

  Showing strength Mariah didn’t think he had, Otis pushed between them. "Now blast it! Hold up a minute, Joe. You’re only giving them part of the story. Tiller’s family deserves the whole truth."

  Ellie’s hand slid away from her mouth. "If it’s any worse than what we’ve heard, kindly keep it to yourself."

  Hooper gripped his shoulder. "Tell us what you know, old-timer."

  Otis pulled out a chair for Ellie then gave Mariah a brisk nod. "Brew up more coffee, little missy. This might take a minute."

  Uncle Joe fumed. "I don’t have time for stories, Otis. If you want to stay behind and flap your jaws, that’s up to you. I need to call out a manhunt."

  Mariah gripped his wrist. "Please, Uncle Joe. Otis is right. These folks are Tiller’s family. They have a right to hear everything and decide for themselves."

  Hooper nodded. "I’d be much obliged if you’d wait, sir. Since we’re both looking for the same man, I’d like to ride along."

  Uncle Joe looked doubtful. "I don’t know if that’s a good idea."

  "We might be of use," Hooper said. "My sister is quite gifted at tracking."

  Looking down his nose, Uncle Joe scoffed. "I have no need of her. I can trail a goose in a southbound flock."

  Ellie’s brow puckered. "I can track a flea in a sandstorm."

  They challenged each other across the room.

  Mariah sought his hand and squeezed.

  With a whispered curse, Uncle Joe nodded and plopped in his chair.

  They settled around the table while Otis talked about the kindhearted Tiller, the man who hovered over his sickbed, bathing and feeding him with gentle hands when he was too weak to care for himself. He spoke of the Tiller devoted to Mariah, rescuing her from the twister and its aftermath and from crazy Gabe Tabor.

  Otis told them how Tiller loved the inn, rebuilding it from rooftop to foundation then doing it all over again after the storm. He mentioned the garden, how Tiller spent long hours coaxing green shoots from the ground, determined that Mariah have fresh vegetables despite the
destructive tornado.

  In a voice filled with fatherly pride, he told of Tiller chopping up trees for days and hauling them off to sell, so proud of bringing every cent to place in Mariah’s lap. He ended with the story of Tiller in tears, kneeling on the porch to lay down his sins and invite Jesus into his life. "If there’s one thing a man can’t fake, it’s a repentant heart."

  Ellie crossed her arms on the table and lowered her head to cry, strands of her long hair falling in the butter dish.

  Dicey lifted her apron to cover her face and ran sobbing into the pantry.

  Ducking his head, Hooper wiped his face with his sleeve.

  Even Wyatt, Ellie’s husband, had shimmering eyes. "That sounds more like the boy we knew."

  "So what happened after all that?" Hooper asked. "And what’s this about a wife?"

  Otis opened his mouth to answer, but Mariah gripped his shoulder. "No. Let me."

  Otis glanced up with a sweet smile. "Go ahead, honey."

  Taking a deep breath, she told how Tiller had been riding with a raiding gang of thieves. She made it clear that he took off when the real crimes were committed because his tender conscience drove him to. She said Tiller didn’t really have a wife, that sweet Lucinda was a story he made up on the fly to gain Otis’s trust.

  In a proud voice, she explained how Tiller broke with the gang to seek a fresh start, but they followed him to Bell’s Inn. She assured them Tiller took no part in robbing the inn. He’d been in the parlor to protect her money from his former gang, not to steal it.

  Mariah said all these things to Tiller’s family because she knew without a single doubt they were true.

  "Then why did he run?" Joe demanded.

  Mariah hung her head. "I’m certain Tiller ran from the doubt in my eyes." Her heart breaking, she glared. "But he didn’t run for good. Tiller would never steal my horse, Uncle Joe. Leaving on Sheki proves he has every intention of coming back."

  "That’s it!" Otis cried, slapping the table. "He’s planning to ride back here with your money and make you proud. It lines up with everything else the boy’s done since he got here."

  Mariah crossed her arms over the sudden ache in her stomach. "That could be dangerous, couldn’t it? Those men won’t let him get away with all those coins. They’ll kill him first."

  Uncle Joe raised his chin, staring down his nose at her. "You really believe in this red-haired nahullo?"

  She smiled through her tears. "With all my heart."

  Standing, he offered his hand to Hooper. "Looks like our manhunt just became a rescue."

  Ellie’s husband seemed anxious. He stood with Hooper, wiping his trembling hands on his trousers. "This thieving gang," he said in a voice filled with dread, "did you happen to catch their names?"

  "Yes." Mariah gave him a thoughtful nod. "The one with cold eyes was Hade Betts. The lanky man with a ready smile was Sonny Thompson."

  She turned to Otis. "I can’t recall the quiet one’s name."

  "Nathan somebody," Otis said.

  Wyatt turned as pale as the tablecloth. "Carter? Nathan Carter?"

  Mariah pointed. "Yes, that’s him."

  Ellie wrapped her arms around Wyatt’s neck, and Hooper gently patted his shoulder.

  Compassion squeezed Mariah’s heart. "You know him?"

  Wyatt gave a somber nod. "He’s my brother."

  "I’m so sorry."

  Hooper hooked his arm around Wyatt. "Don’t worry. We’ll find them both and bring them home."

  Wyatt shook his head. "I’d like to believe you, Hoop. Nathan’s pretty headstrong."

  "Nonsense," Ellie said. "He’s bound to be tired of drifting." She smiled. "We’ll tell him he has a passel of nephews back home just dying to meet their Uncle Nate."

  Wyatt grinned and squared his shoulders. "That might chase him off for good."

  Uncle Joe grunted. "I hate to rush you folks, but it’s time to ride." He crossed to the rack and shoved his big hat on his head. "The longer we sit here, the farther away they’ll get."

  He motioned to Otis. "I’ll saddle Tiller’s horse for you and meet you outside."

  Otis waved his hand. "Aw, go on without me, Joe. I’d just slow you down."

  Mariah smiled to herself. Funny how fast Otis lost his zeal to go once the tide of Uncle Joe’s anger switched off Tiller.

  Swiveling on his chair, Otis gazed up at Hooper. "I have one more question, if you don’t mind."

  "Not at all, sir," Hooper said.

  Otis’s eyes crinkled in thought. "Why have you come looking for young Tiller?"

  Hooper shot him a warm smile. "We’ve come to take him home."

  Mariah’s breath caught. "Home? You mean to North Carolina?"

  "That’s right." Ellie beamed. "Back to Scuffletown where he belongs."

  Otis swung around to her. "Why now, after ten long years?"

  Pulling on his leather gloves, Hooper lowered his gaze. "It’s not the first time we’ve searched, I can tell you that, but we finally got a good lead." He grinned. "Looks like it paid off."

  Beaming, Otis glanced around at them. "I’m glad to know you care about him. Tiller don’t know that, you see."

  Ellie clenched her hands and fixed determined eyes on Otis. "He’ll know soon enough, sir."

  Mariah pushed up from the table. "What if Tiller doesn’t want to go back with you?"

  Hooper’s mood seemed to lighten. "He’ll want to." He glanced at Ellie. "Once we tell him what’s waiting there for him."

  Before Mariah could ask what he meant, Uncle Joe herded them out the door.

  She called Dicey out of the pantry, and together they finished tying up bundles of food and filling canteens with water. As they carried them out the back door, the rising sun broke through the trees by the river.

  Uncle Joe and the others rode up to the porch, and Dicey helped Mariah load their packs and tie on the full canteens.

  Feeling her uncle watching from the saddle, Mariah glanced up at him.

  He gently caressed her cheek. "Your mother loved you very much."

  A lump rose in her throat. "Yes, she did."

  "She loved your father, too."

  Unable to speak, Mariah nodded.

  Straightening, his thoughtful gaze swept his surroundings in a wide arc, from the Pearl River to the Natchez Trace stretching out of sight in the distance. "I’ll help you keep your promise, niece. I’ll bring home your Tiller so you can keep your mother’s land."

  Her grateful tears blurred his dear face. "Thank you, Uncle. I love you with all my heart."

  He nodded. "I’ll stay for your wedding, but then I must go home."

  "Already? There’s no rush to leave."

  A teasing glint sparked his eyes. "There is if I want to be home for the birth of my son."

  A hush fell over the yard. "Aunt Myrtle is with child?"

  He grinned. "Yes, at last. With my son, George."

  Laughing, she reached up to give him a hug. "I’m so happy for you."

  Pulling free, he took up his reins. "Enough of this dawdling. Let me go find your nahullo."

  They rode down the slope of the yard and onto the Trace, turning left toward Jackson.

  Mariah clung to the porch rail and watched as long as she could spot any sight of them flickering past the trees. Her heart felt somewhat lighter, but an unsettled matter weighed heavy on her mind. She had to face Miss Vee. The sooner the better.

  There hadn’t been a peep from her all morning, despite her determined threat to pack and leave. Sudden fear struck Mariah’s heart. Miss Vee didn’t seem the type to harm herself, but—

  Whirling for the door, Mariah burst into the kitchen and dashed for the stairs.

  "She’s over here, little missy."

  She froze, her trembling hand clutching the rail.

  Otis sat across the table from a bleary-eyed Miss Vee, her face bare of makeup, her hair an unholy mess. Through bloodred eyes, the lids puffed like risen dough, she stared at her hands twisting the table
cloth.

  Mariah cautiously approached. "Miss Vee?"

  Otis stood. "Here, take my chair. She’s ready to talk." He backed toward the door. "I’ll just …" Then he was gone.

  Unsure what to say, Mariah slid into his surrendered seat and laced her fingers in front of her, her knuckles white.

  Her chest ached when Miss Vee groped for her hand. "I always knew, Mariah. Deep inside, I knew."

  A lump crowded Mariah’s throat. "That Father was gone?"

  Miss Vee shook her head. "That I wouldn’t be allowed to have him—not with how bad I wanted him." She raised her eyes. "I’d have lured your father straight from your mama’s arms if he’d given me the chance." She shook her head. "Such a thing should never go unpunished."

  "Please don’t." Mariah squeezed her hand. "Father’s death wasn’t to punish you."

  Miss Vee shrugged. "I reckon I know that in my head. My heart’s not so sure." She lifted tortured eyes. "It was an awful lie you told. A terrible, cruel secret to keep." Her gaze held Mariah captive. "You understand that now, don’t you?"

  She nodded. "To my shame, I understood all along. That’s why I have to beg your forgiveness." She lowered her cheek to Miss Vee’s hand. "I knew how much it would hurt when you found out."

  Miss Vee sat quietly for a moment then caressed Mariah’s bowed head. "Pretty girl, you’re all I have left of your father. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too."

  Mariah sat up and flung her arms around Miss Vee’s neck, basking in the warmth of her pardon. Clinging together, they sobbed for the heartbreaking loss they shared.

  FORTY-TWO

  Sonny’s boisterous mood and Nathan’s loud rustling never stirred Hade. The man slept like the dead and always had. A dangerous inclination for a criminal, but it would work in Tiller’s favor. He’d find a way to distract Sonny, and then he’d pounce on Hade.

  Licking his lips, he looked around, trying to get some idea of what to do with the gawky court jester who stayed loyal to a fault to Hade Betts.

  "What you up to, Nate?" The clown in question leaned over Nathan’s shoulder while he rummaged in his saddlebag.

  "Going fishing," Nathan said, holding up the hooks and ball of twine he kept in his pack. If not for Nathan’s knack with catching fish, many days on the trail the gang might’ve gone hungry.