All Roads Lead Home

by Christine Johnson

  The bedroom’s opulence rivaled that of a presidential mansion or a royal palace. Burgundy velvet curtains hung around the four-poster bed and at each window, tied back with matching satin cords. Rose-colored satin tufted chairs and polished mahogany furnishings completed the elegant room. But none of that was what had thrilled Anna.

  “Look,” the girl cried, throwing open the armoire doors. “Just look at these clothes.” She pulled out a crepe de chine bathing robe and tossed it on the fainting couch, followed by one in rose-colored silk and another in pale yellow. When she came to a lacy negligee, Mariah had to put a stop to this.

  “Anna, these are not your things. Put them back.”

  “But they’re so beautiful.” She donned a lacy boudoir cap. Her pigtails stuck out of each side like two ropes or bellpulls.

  Mariah had to stifle a giggle and pretend to be angry with the poor girl, who had probably never seen such beautiful things.

  “Put them back,” Mariah said softly. “They belong to someone else.”

  “Who would they belong to?” Anna asked. “Not that Indian woman. She wouldn’t wear anything this nice.”

  “I believe she’s the housekeeper.”

  “Then who? I didn’t see any other women.”

  It was a good question, one that could have only one answer. “Perhaps Mr. Gillard kept his late wife’s clothing.”

  “Eww, these are from a dead person?” Anna hastily tucked the negligee back in the armoire.

  “I believe she died years ago.” At least before Luke came to the Detroit mission.

  “Hmm. She must have been your size. They look like they’d fit.” Anna ran a hand over the rose-colored silk robe. “Are you sure you don’t want to try it on?”

  “I’m positive.” Mariah lifted the yellow bathrobe to hand to Anna. Odd that Gillard would choose to bring these garments west with him. What destitute man saves his wife’s clothing and gives away his son? It didn’t make sense. Moreover, they were expensive, of the highest quality, certainly not something a poor man would own or keep. Nothing about Frank Gillard made sense.

  Mariah put the yellow robe away herself and saw the one thing Anna hadn’t noted. Every single item in the armoire was lingerie. Why would a single man have a closet filled with only sleepwear?

  She gasped at the possibilities. He must have a lady friend. Who occasionally stayed overnight and… She didn’t care to imagine the rest. But there were so many items in the armoire—dozens—certainly more than one woman would want. What if many women passed through? What if…? She clutched a hand to her throat. She’d heard the West had once been filled with bordellos. What if some still existed? What if Frank Gillard made his fortune from prostitution?

  She sank to the fainting couch.

  “Mariah? Why are your cheeks so red?”

  She pressed her hands to her flaming face. Anna was still an innocent, and Mariah was making some pretty big assumptions that she didn’t dare spell out. “I’m just hot,” she murmured. “Could you get me a cold cloth?”

  While Anna soaked a cloth in the water basin, Mariah looked again at the armoire’s contents. All lingerie. If she was right about Gillard’s source of wealth and if she could get the law to act, she could put Frank Gillard behind bars long enough for Luke to grow up in Pearlman.

  Anna handed her the damp cloth, and Mariah buried her face in the coolness. Somehow tonight she needed to find the answers that would spare Luke. As Hendrick said, soon enough Frank Gillard would discover her real purpose.

  “Lord, lead me on the right path,” she whispered.

  “What did you say?” asked Anna.

  Mariah forced a weak smile. “Let’s go to dinner.”

  Where she wouldn’t be able to eat a thing.

  Chapter Ten

  Supper proved as opulent as everything else in Gillard’s home. The opening course, a beef consommé, had already been served by the time Mariah arrived in the dining room. Freshly baked dinner rolls enticed with their yeasty aroma. Her mouth watered. How long had it been since she tasted fresh bread?

  Gillard, of course, presided at the head of the aristocratically long table. He seated Mariah to his left and Anna to his right. Hendrick did not look pleased that he’d been relegated to the chair beside his sister. Though their party amounted to only four, the entire twelve places had been set in shimmering bone china and sterling flatware.

  “Are you expecting more guests?” Mariah asked. Gillard wasn’t the type to allow his staff to dine with him. She wondered if the mysterious lady friend or friends would appear.

  “Not tonight.” He picked up his napkin with a flourish.

  “Then why set the table for twelve?”

  His chestnut hair, now parted down the middle in the style of film actor Rudolph Valentino, gleamed with brilliantine. “It’s more beautiful that way, don’t you think? And impressive. Do you like my collections? “

  She murmured an assent. Gillard had definitely tried to impress her with his wealth.

  “You’ve probably never seen such fine furnishings.” He said it to her but mostly looked at Anna and Hendrick.

  “Oh, Mariah’s rich,” Anna blurted out, much to Mariah’s dismay.

  “Is that so?”

  Was it her imagination or did Gillard sit up a little straighter?

  “I’m not rich,” she hastily explained, “though my parents have done well.” She shot Anna a look telling her to be quiet. This conversation was supposed to answer her questions about Gillard, not the other way around, and when she considered his collections, she couldn’t help wondering how he’d acquired so much so quickly. Two-and-a-half years was a terribly short time to amass a fortune, except through illegal activities.

  Anna thankfully understood the hint and kept quiet. Hendrick was another matter. While Gillard had changed into an expensive gray suit, Hendrick still wore his traveling clothes, which were naturally worse for wear. Judging by his scowl, he thought Gillard was intentionally trying to demean him. She’d have a battle placating Hendrick while trying to weasel information out of Gillard.

  Gillard rang the bell, and a male servant appeared, also an American Indian and dressed in starched serving attire. In his gloved hands he bore a bottle of wine.

  Wine? Mariah stared. Spirits were prohibited throughout the country. True, some people refused to accept the law. Speakeasies operated everywhere, but she was surprised that Gillard would flaunt the law in front of people he’d just met.

  He waited for the servant to pour a small amount in his wineglass and then sniffed it. “This will do. It’s a French Cabernet, acquired before Prohibition, naturally.”

  Mariah had to admit his explanation made sense. People could keep liquor purchased before the Eighteenth Amendment took effect, but what if he was stretching the truth? What if his liquor was bootleg? What if he made his fortune rumrunning?

  Gillard set the glass in front of her. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion and can think of nothing more special. Will you do me the honor of approving the wine?”

  Anna stared, her mouth agape. Hendrick’s eyes narrowed as if to say that he’d been right. But she could use this if she could prove Gillard did more than keep a bottle or two of wine acquired before Prohibition began. If he smuggled liquor into the state from Canada, federal agents would be glad to lock him in prison. All she had to do was prove it, and that meant she couldn’t appear to condemn the fact that he owned a bottle of wine.

  Though she did not lift her hands from her lap, she smiled at him very graciously. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gillard. Please enjoy the wine, but for personal reasons I don’t drink spirits.”

  His eyebrows lifted, but he maintained his calm demeanor. “Of course. I should never have made such an assumption.” He waved to the servant. “Take it away.”

  The servant whisked the bottle and the wineglass from the room. Gillard hadn’t even offered it to Hendrick or Anna. Though she knew neither would touch it, the fact that Gillard had considered
only her opinion told her that Hendrick was right.

  “I didn’t mean for you to deprive yourself,” she chided softly.

  “It’s no deprivation when my table is graced by a woman as lovely as you.”

  Again she cringed. Like Hendrick and Anna, she still wore her traveling clothes. It had been too hot to wear her duster, so the dust and grime had permeated every seam of her suit and coated every strand of hair. On the best days, her appearance was serviceable. Today, she looked a fright.

  After everyone finished the consommé, Gillard rang for the next course to be delivered. Half a dozen male servants, all American Indian and all dressed in the same uniform as the wine steward, appeared from the kitchen carrying covered plates of beef, quail and rabbit. Fresh vegetables had been in short supply at the mercantile, but not here. Potatoes, carrots, pickled beets and even peas filled separate dishes in quantities that would feed a table of twelve. The excess reminded her of the great houses back East. She had dined in many of them with her parents, but never grew accustomed to the extravagance and waste.

  Mariah sipped from her Waterford crystal water glass while the dishes were placed on the table. Everything in this house reeked of ostentatious wealth, doubtless gained by illicit means. Gambling, prostitution, rumrunning or all of them? She needed to know, if she was to keep Luke safe.

  “Some states were temperate before national prohibition,” she began casually.

  “Like Michigan,” Hendrick added. “We’ve been dry since 1916.”

  Gillard twirled a fork between his thumb and index finger. “Interesting. You’re from Michigan, then?”

  Mariah paled. Did he know Luke was staying in Michigan? Would he make the connection?

  “No,” she said quickly, “I’m not.”

  “Then how do you know each other?” Gillard asked. “You are friends.”

  He was not supposed to be asking the questions, yet somehow he’d put her on the defensive. She took a deep breath and smiled.

  “We know each other through mutual acquaintances.” She then slipped quickly to her point, before he could waylay her again. “I’m surprised Montana isn’t as progressive as Michigan.”

  He smirked. “Perhaps we are. That depends on your definition of progressive. Consider the programs we’ve instituted to civilize the Indians. Without our help, they’d be wiped out by now.”

  Mariah shivered at the blatant prejudice. Though there was likely some fragment of truth behind his statement, he hadn’t mentioned that the settlers were the ones who’d brought the diseases and starvation that had reduced the Indians to this state.

  “What do you mean, wiped out?” Anna asked. “They’re not going to die, are they?”

  Gillard looked as if he was surprised she was there. “Only if they refuse to listen to us.” He returned his focus to Mariah. “Cattle are the solution.”

  That ushered in a lengthy conversation on cattle ranching. Apparently, his herd ranged freely, even beyond the bounds of his acreage.

  “How do you ever find them again?” Anna asked.

  “By their brand,” Gillard answered. “Some would steal cattle that aren’t their own, but no one would dare touch mine. Everyone knows Frank Gillard’s mark.”

  Mariah suspected the punishment for rustling his cattle had been demonstrated on some hapless thief. She shuddered. Her punishment would be just as horrific, maybe more so, if he learned why she was really here. Rustlers only took cattle, whereas she wanted to take his son.

  Mariah picked at the beef short ribs, potatoes and beets while Gillard regaled them with tales of cattle drives. When he directed the conversation toward her, she took a bite so she could keep her replies short. Thankfully, Anna had a hundred questions, mostly about the Indians.

  “Blackfeet on this side of the Divide, and Flathead on the other,” Gillard said with a wave of the hand, “but they’re easily controlled now.”

  “Controlled?” Hendrick leaned forward, eager to challenge.

  Mariah tensed, but if Gillard sensed the anger in Hendrick’s tone, he ignored it.

  “They’re a bloodthirsty lot,” he said. “Tenderhearted Easterners like to say that we killed off their way of life, but the truth is they did it to themselves. Why, they’d drive whole herds of buffalo over the cliffs to their deaths. Killing is their life.” He pointed a table knife at Hendrick. “They scalped hundreds of us before the army got them rounded up on the reservation.”

  Anna stared in horror. “They don’t scalp people anymore, do they?”

  “Of course not,” Mariah said, sick of these tales. Whether or not these acts had ever happened, they had taken place ages ago and had no bearing on today.

  Gillard laughed. “Your friend is right, but don’t turn your back on an Indian.”

  “If they hate us, there’s good reason,” Hendrick said.

  “Because we have the power,” said Gillard, “that’s why. Even just rulers are hated by their subjects.”

  For the second time tonight, Mariah wondered if he saw himself as king. He’d certainly established a strict social hierarchy. “Hate is a very strong word.”

  Gillard patted her hand. “You’re right, my dear. Perhaps resent is a better choice. The fight these days is more between the mixed-bloods and the full-bloods than the Indians and the whites.”

  She puzzled over his words. “Why would they fight among themselves? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Gillard leaned back, his elbows propped on the chair’s arms. “Each side has a different political agenda. Let’s just say it’s easier to deal with the mixed-bloods. They understand the need to set up cattle ranches and work with us. The full-bloods refuse to give up their traditions. They accuse us of anything and everything that’ll get them sympathy with Indian Affairs. But I can see I’m boring you. I shouldn’t be talking politics during a pleasant dinner.”

  “I’m not bored,” she insisted. “In fact, I’m fascinated by politics and make full use of my right to vote.”

  “Me, too,” piped up Anna.

  Gillard looked surprised for a second and then burst into laughter. “You are quite the remarkable woman, Miss Mariah.”

  “And I’m deeply interested in the plight of the Indians. Do I understand correctly that you believe cattle ranching will give the Indians the financial means to better themselves?”

  “Absolutely. That and oil.”

  “Oil?” Mariah blinked. That was the last thing she’d expected to come out of his mouth. “Petroleum?”

  “Exactly. Prospectors discovered oil a few years ago in the southern part of the state. Just last year it was found on the Crow reservation. Chances are there’s oil here. All that’s needed is someone with know-how to tap the reserves.”

  “The Blackfeet,” Hendrick said.

  “They don’t have the capital,” Gillard scoffed.

  “It’s their land,” Anna cried.

  Gillard smiled. “Don’t worry, Miss Simmons, they’ll get their share.”

  Anna beamed. “Then they can have better schools and even a hospital.”

  Doubtless, she was thinking of Talltree and the Indian school, but this sort of progress didn’t come quickly or without cost. Mariah held her tongue. She didn’t know enough of the facts. Arguing with Gillard wouldn’t give her what she needed. It was time to make her move.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to change the topic, but you haven’t mentioned any family, Mr. Gillard. This is a large house for one man.”

  His smile faltered. “I had a wife and son once.” He paused to take a drink of water. “I lost them. A most horrible death.” He covered his eyes with one hand, to all appearances overcome with grief. “I still have nightmares.”

  “Lost them both?” Mariah asked, perplexed.

  “In an accident.”

  Mariah’s mind whirled. Could she have the wrong man? No. The letter was from Gillard. It gave his full name and the address in Brunley, Montana. He said he’d changed his name from Francesco G
uillardo and requested that his son, Luciano, be returned. No, she wasn’t wrong. Then why was he saying Luke was dead?

  “But I thought you wanted—” she began before realizing she’d almost given herself away. She coughed and took a sip of water to hide her terrible mistake.

  Gillard didn’t let her off the hook. “You thought I wanted what?”

  Mariah thought quickly, trying to come up with an appropriate answer. Hendrick looked stricken, and judging by the painful expression on Anna’s face, he was squeezing her hand very hard under the table. Think. Think.

  Gillard waited.

  She took another drink and waved her hand to indicate her throat was raw. In truth, it was so constricted she couldn’t get a word out.

  “Breathe slowly,” Gillard said. “Let your throat calm down.”

  She did as directed until she came up with an idea. “I happened to see the clothing in the guestroom armoire,” she began.

  He revealed no emotion at her words, so she plunged ahead.

  “I’m afraid I leapt to an assumption,” she continued. “I thought you already had a fiancée, that you wanted to get married again. Blame it on women’s intuition gone awry.”

  He blinked. Once. Then burst out laughing. “Your women’s intuition is absolutely correct.” He took her hand and gazed into her eyes. “I do want to remarry.”

  She had no doubt he had set his sights on her.

  What a fraud. Hendrick wanted to grab Mariah and leave that instant, but she wouldn’t stand for it. She had this crazy idea she could trick Gillard into saying something incriminating. He’d watched her attempts to worm the truth out of Gillard and how easily he’d deflected every attempt. She was up against a con man well versed in the art of deception.

  Now Gillard claimed he wanted to marry her.

  “You just met,” Hendrick exclaimed. Surely she saw how ludicrous this man’s attentions were.

  Gillard never let his gaze leave her face. “Do you believe in love at first sight? After today, I do.”

  Mariah didn’t answer. She could have said no. She should have put a stop to it that instant, but she just sat there, cheeks unnaturally flushed.