All Roads Lead Home

by Christine Johnson

  “What will your boss say? Does he know what you’re doing?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled. “Well, at least some of it, but if Gillard calls, Mr. Isaacs will insist Gabe bring Luke here at once. That will devastate all of them. And if Felicity answers the telephone…” She shuddered. “That’s why I need to find something against Gillard tonight.”

  He paused, considering her words. “It’s dangerous.”

  “Anything worthwhile requires risk.”

  He didn’t protest. Instead, he stood silent for so long that she dreaded what he would say, but his words did not condemn, they supported. “I would not want him to have any child’s life in his hands. How did he hurt Luke?”

  “I’m not sure.” She squeezed his hand. “Gabe says Luke won’t talk about it, but he starts shaking whenever Gabe asks about his father. Gillard abused him. Emotionally or physically—I don’t know.”

  “Then take me with you,” he whispered. “Let me help.” He held her again, this time with an intoxicating mix of tenderness and urgency.

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”

  He held her much too close. “And I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.” His breath fluttered across her face, strengthening her and making her more certain of her course, a course that should not include him.

  “But your mother, your sister—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips, stilling her protest. She could smell the starch in his shirt and feel his overpowering strength. Her head came just to his shoulders, so broad and capable that she couldn’t resist laying her cheek against it. She fit perfectly, just like that night in South Dakota. In his arms, the troubles of the world vanished. Only the two of them existed, separate yet one, like twin stars caught in each other’s orbit.

  He didn’t speak. If he’d spoken, it would have ruined everything. No, he splayed his long fingers on the small of her back and oh so gently kissed the top of her head, simultaneously letting her know what he wanted and that he would wait until she was ready. In South Dakota, she’d pulled away. Tonight?

  Anything worth having requires risk.

  She’d just told him that, but did she truly believe it? Would she risk all on love? In his arms, she felt safe. He rocked her, softly as the grass rippling in the wind, and a great sea of emotion welled from deep within, so strong she couldn’t keep it down. On this windblown Montana night she no longer wanted to run. She wanted to risk everything.

  His lips brushed her forehead and then her temple. The waves of emotion tossed, their tops windblown, and she lifted her face as if struggling for breath, but it wasn’t air she needed. She required something far more nourishing. She needed to know she was loved, and, with the gentlest touch of his lips to hers, he gave her that.

  Hendrick ached to kiss Mariah again, but he wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d allow more than the one light embrace. Get too serious and she’d run away. Experience had proven that time and again. Even the single kiss was one too many. He risked losing his heart all over again.

  So he pulled away. This time he broke the embrace before she was ready.

  She blinked and shuddered as if awakening from a sound sleep. “What’s wrong?”

  Self-preservation. He would not be toyed with this time. He would not expose his heart only to have it crushed. He’d survived a kiss. He could survive anything Mariah threw at him and walk away untouched.

  He pointed toward the house. “The last lamp went out at least ten minutes ago.”

  She peered into the darkness. “Do you think it’s been long enough?” Her voice trembled.

  “Give it a few more minutes. What is your plan?”

  She hesitated.

  “You don’t have a plan?”

  “Of course I have a plan,” she snapped. “I want to check the grounds for evidence of smuggling. He must have a cellar or hiding place for the liquor.”

  “If he keeps it here. Most rumrunners move out the alcohol as quickly as possible. The chances of him keeping it at his house are pretty slim.”

  “But he might have records—a map, a list of contacts, a ledger. Those would be in his office or study, I’m guessing in the west wing. That’s the logical place to start.”

  That would not be easy. “And where do you plan to find these incriminating documents?”

  “In filing cabinets.”

  “Which would be locked,” he pointed out.

  “Perhaps, but it’s worth checking. And then we move on to the desk.”

  “Also locked.”

  “You’re trying to talk me out of this,” she huffed and took off toward the house.

  He caught up to her in seconds. Her quick strides couldn’t match his long ones. “And how do you plan to see, Mariah? You can’t switch on lights. There’s no electricity.”

  “I know that.” She was growing more irritated, a sign he was winning. “We’ll bring a lantern.”

  “And alert the staff?”

  She turned on him and stuck a finger in his gut. “Well, then, Mr. Smarty-Pants. What do you propose?”

  He carefully removed the finger, rather enjoying this game. “Go back to town.”

  She whirled away in disgust. “Just what I expected. No imagination. As I said, I can do this myself. I don’t need your help, and I certainly wasn’t distracted by that kiss.”

  Oh, yes, she was. Her irritation proved it. He grinned. “Or we could use one of the flashlights from the car.”

  That stopped her. “Oh.” She didn’t quite hide her embarrassment at not having thought of such a simple solution. “I suppose you have a set of lock-picking tools, too.”

  “Not with me.” Since Pearlman lacked a locksmith, he’d often been called to unlock cabinets and safes. “But I’ll give it a shot with one of your hairpins.”

  “I don’t use hairpins.” She resumed her trek, this time toward the car. “But I have a hat pin or two in my valise.”

  That meant returning to the guest bedroom and possibly attracting attention. Every nerve ending tingled, and his brain was on high alert. “Too risky. We’ll get what we can without one.”

  Locating a flashlight in the car took several minutes. Neither recalled exactly where they’d packed it. Finally, he found it in the sack with the pots and pans.

  “Who would put it there?” Mariah asked, or rather accused. “Not I.”

  Hendrick wasn’t about to get into another argument. “It’s been at least fifteen minutes. Everyone should be asleep by now.”

  He felt her tense. “This is it, then.” She squeezed his hand.

  “This is it.”

  With that, they crossed to the west-wing entrance.

  Mariah’s heart pounded like an Indian war drum, relentless and threatening. Surely everyone could hear them open the door. It wasn’t locked, but its hinges creaked. She held her breath, waiting for any sign of movement.

  At this point, their actions could be explained. They’d gone outside for a breath of air and came in the nearest door. It was perfectly reasonable. Once they reached Gillard’s study, no excuse would make sense.

  Having Hendrick at her side made her feel better. He was surprisingly quiet on his feet and acted with more determination than she thought he possessed. Though tall and strong, he held his strength in check, preferring to live by a strict set of morals. She was surprised that he would compromise those by helping her do something that was clearly illegal.

  He must care for her deeply. The tenderness of his kiss. The way he looked at her. If only they could have a future together. She shook herself. She had to focus on the task at hand. One mistake, and they’d be caught. Even Hendrick couldn’t save her then.

  As they crept silently down the hall, she thought her heart would beat through her rib cage and leap out onto the floor. He squeezed her hand, letting her know he was with her. The weak flashlight beam bounced over shadowy objects.

  Like the east win
g, the west hall was lined with closed doors, five in all, two to a side and one at the end, likely the master bedroom. But which of the other four doors led to the study? Choose the wrong one, and they were doomed. Perhaps Hendrick was right; they shouldn’t be doing this. Yet men and women of God had deceived evil men for the sake of the good. Rahab misled the king’s men in order to spare Joshua’s spies. Esther hid her Jewish blood for the sake of her people. Sarah pretended to be Abraham’s sister so he wouldn’t be killed.

  She squeezed Hendrick’s hand and pointed to the second door on the left. It faced the front of the house. A businessman would want his study window to face approaching visitors, so he could see them before they saw him. He also would want it next to the master bedroom. That room must be the study.

  Hendrick tested the knob. It turned easily. He looked to her for confirmation, and she nodded.

  Slowly he opened the door. It glided silently. Then he lifted the flashlight and swept the room. A bedroom. Judging by the feminine pattern on the curtains and the dainty vanity, this, too, was intended for a woman, possibly a future wife.

  Hendrick closed the door and pointed to the other room on that side. She nodded, and he began to turn the knob when a terrible thought occurred to her.

  She caught his hand and stopped him before he opened the door. What if she was wrong, and the master bedroom adjoined the wife’s bedroom?

  Heart pounding, she turned to the other side of the hallway. Two doors on that side and one on the end. Which led to Gillard’s office and which opened to his bedroom? Mentally she assessed the possibilities. He would have all the family rooms in the west wing. If he was expecting Luke, he’d have set aside a room for him, either next to the wife’s room or adjacent to the master bedroom. A man like Gillard would choose the largest room for himself. That would be the end room. They’d already discovered the wife’s room. Luke’s would be the room adjacent either to the wife’s or to the master bedroom. Judging from what she’d seen of Gillard’s character, she’d guess adjacent to the wife’s room. That left the two doors on the opposite side of the hall. If Gillard were involved in something illegal, he’d keep his office very close. She pointed to the door across the hall from the wife’s room.

  Hendrick nodded and slowly opened the door. It creaked, and Mariah froze. Hendrick turned off the flashlight. Seconds ticked as she listened. Nothing.

  She squeezed Hendrick’s hand, and he turned the flashlight back on. The dim beam revealed exactly what she’d hoped. A desk, cabinets, bookshelves. She whisked into the room and pointed to the desk. Her throbbing nerves told her they had precious little time.

  Hendrick tried the top drawer. It didn’t budge. Locked. The others opened easily but revealed little.

  Perspiration drenched Mariah’s back. It wasn’t just hot inside; it was unbearable.

  Luke. Think of Luke.

  Lord, where do I look? Show me.

  She waited but heard no answer over her ricocheting panic.

  Meanwhile, Hendrick was rifling through the cabinet. “I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

  “Shh!” she hissed. Someone would hear them. Someone had probably already heard them. Her heart was in her throat. She wasn’t cut out for spying. The task was overwhelming, the terror unbearable.

  She motioned to Hendrick that they should leave and whirled around to exit. In the process, her skirt caught some papers on the edge of the desk, and they tumbled to the floor. She gasped and scrambled to gather them while Hendrick shone the light on the mess.

  There was no way to know if she had them in the right order, but she did take the time—even though her hands were shaking—to put them all right-side up. They looked like legal documents. Most were about oil leasing, but not all. One was a birth certificate for Luke.

  Her hand stilled. This was what she was looking for.

  She pulled the flashlight beam over the paper and squinted in the dim light. The birth record listed Francesco Guillardo as the father, but Luke’s name was given as Lucian, not Luciano. Still, it was so close that it had to be Luke. She ran her finger along the faded lines. The name of the mother was illegible, but the ethnicity was not.

  She gasped.

  “What is it?” Hendrick whispered, leaning close.

  She shook her head and pressed a finger to her lips to quiet him before she resumed reading the document. The record stated that Luke’s mother was American Indian. Just like the servants in the house. Just like the housekeeper. For a second she wondered if that woman was Luke’s mother. Impossible. She bore no resemblance to him. No, Luke’s mother must be dead, as Gillard said.

  Still, her heart stuck in her throat. Gillard had told the Detroit mission that they were Italian, but in truth Luke was part Indian. It didn’t change how she felt about him, but she couldn’t help remembering the ethnic slurs cast against Luke when he first came to Pearlman. Perhaps Gillard had fibbed so Luke wouldn’t face ridicule. Italian was less offensive to some than Indian. Yes, Gillard had lied to the Detroit agents, but he might have done it to spare Luke ridicule.

  Hendrick motioned to her to hurry. Though she wanted to take the birth record with her, Gillard would know her purpose at once if she did, so she replaced the papers on the corner of the desk.

  Then, before someone caught them, they tiptoed out of the room. The hall was still empty, the house noiseless. Hendrick pulled the door shut, again with the gentle creak, until the latch clicked in place.

  Lacking a handkerchief, Mariah wiped her damp face with her sleeve. They only had to get back to the east wing, a simple matter of crossing the vast living room.

  They slipped down the hall with the beam of the flashlight to guide them and paused before entering the living room. Hendrick aimed the flickering beam into the room. Furniture cluttered their path. They’d have to weave around it.

  She touched his arm and started forward, but the light blinked out. She heard Hendrick shake it and pound it against his hand. Nothing worked. The dry cells must have died. They would have to reach their rooms in the dark.

  After waiting for their eyes to adjust, Mariah saw the chief’s headdress rising like a monster in the pale moonlight. The chairs loomed as obstacles. Rugs could trip them. Her pulse still hammered.

  Hendrick took her hand, and together they stepped into the room.

  “What you do in study?”

  The voice froze them. Slowly they turned to see the housekeeper standing in the front entrance.

  They could run to the east wing and try to escape that way, but Anna was asleep. They couldn’t leave her to Gillard. They also couldn’t hope to escape before the housekeeper awakened the whole house.

  “What you do?” the woman asked again, her face hidden in the shadows.

  Mariah swallowed hard. What if the woman carried a weapon? What if she called Gillard? They were doomed. Oh, to be able to faint at such a moment, but she wasn’t the fainting type. Somehow she’d have to explain what she and Hendrick had been doing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mariah couldn’t think of a single reasonable explanation. She trembled, tongue-tied.

  To her surprise, Hendrick took the lead. “We were looking for something to help his son, Luke.”

  Dear, wonderful Hendrick. She could have thrown her arms around him in thanksgiving if they weren’t in such a fix.

  The housekeeper wavered, considering his explanation, before pointing to the east wing. “Go.”

  Mariah caught her breath. Was she letting them go?

  That hope died when the housekeeper followed them across the room. What did the woman intend to do? Turn them over to Gillard? Maybe he was waiting in the east wing. Maybe he’d discovered their absence or heard them in his office and sent his housekeeper to corral them.

  Mariah clutched Hendrick’s hand, and he responded with a reassuring squeeze. Whatever happened, he would protect her to the best of his ability. What a wonderful man. He shouldn’t be in this position. Her idea had been ill conceived.
If they got out of this alive, she would never do anything so foolish again.

  The housekeeper trailed them silently. She did not light a lamp or speak. Only the whisper of her skirt betrayed her presence. Mariah was not so adept in the dark. Her leg struck the edge of a table. Their shoes clattered on the split-stone floor. She expected Gillard to spring out of the shadows at any moment, but they reached the head of the east hallway without incident.

  “Stop,” the housekeeper commanded.

  They obeyed. Mariah peered into the blackness ahead but couldn’t see anyone. Was Gillard there? She strained to hear the slightest sound, tensed and ready to run.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Hendrick said out of the blue. “May I ask your name?”

  Mariah’s jaw dropped. This was not the time for chitchat. She wrenched on his hand, but he kept talking, out of nervousness, she supposed, though he didn’t sound nervous.

  “Mine’s Hendrick Simmons. I’m a mechanic back in Pearlman, and I’m helping Mr. Talltree fix up a motor for the fire engine.”

  Mariah yanked again. What was he doing?

  “Mrs. Eagle,” the woman answered in a softer tone. She then pointed to the door that led outside. “Go.”

  Go? Outside? Where? Mariah looked to Hendrick.

  “Not safe,” Mrs. Eagle added.

  Mariah breathed easier. The woman was on their side. She was warning them, telling them to leave. Gillard wasn’t waiting for them. He wouldn’t harm them, at least not yet. But the threat still hung over them. Gillard was dangerous. They should leave.

  Hendrick didn’t budge. “We can’t, not without my sister.”

  “Take her,” Mrs. Eagle said.

  “But Mr. Gillard is expecting us to ride with him in the morning,” Mariah said, thinking through the situation. “What will he say when he finds us gone? If we leave in the middle of the night, he’ll know something’s wrong.” And she’d never get the information she needed to save Luke. “I need to stay.”

  Predictably, Hendrick protested, “Mrs. Eagle just said it’s not safe to stay.”