The Indian casually pointed the gun toward Gillard. “How does this work, Judge?”
“I wouldn’t know. Care to try it out?” The judge stared down Gillard. “I’d suggest you either make yourself useful or leave.”
Gillard’s lips curled into a sneer even as he backed away. “I’m not risking my life like some other fools around here.”
Mariah grabbed the bucket from the judge. “Hendrick is a hero, and I’m not sitting here doing nothing when I can help.”
She turned her back on Gillard and joined the closest brigade, hoping her little bit would help bring Hendrick and the children out alive. Flames shot high, and her skin sizzled from the heat. The dense smoke made her cough. It would suffocate them. With a crash, a section of the roof collapsed into the upper floor. She cried out. How could they survive?
The answer was clear: with God’s protection.
Mrs. Eagle joined her, and as the hymns rang out, the brigades increased their pace. She saw all of Gillard’s staff and Talltree, too. Everyone pitched in.
“Mr. Gillard will hold this against you,” Mariah warned Mrs. Eagle.
“No work for Mister Lawd anymore,” said the housekeeper. “Get Constance and go home.”
“Constance?” That was the girl Hendrick had gone to rescue. “Constance is your daughter?”
“Mister Lawd take her from me, put her in school, not let me see her. Mister Lawd evil.”
Mariah couldn’t agree more.
“Where is Constance?” the housekeeper asked, looking around.
The fire still raged, and neither Hendrick nor the children had come out of the building yet.
Mariah handed off the next bucket and drew Mrs. Eagle out of the line. “Hendrick is fetching her.”
The housekeeper’s sharp intake of breath meant she understood that Constance was in danger. The woman closed her eyes, and then chanted in a language Mariah could not understand. The haunting words needed no translation. She was praying. In any language, God understood.
The rest of the roof collapsed, still without any sign of Hendrick or the children. The lump in Mariah’s throat thickened as she wept for them.
Dear, wonderful Hendrick always gave of himself without asking for anything in return. How clearly she now saw his life of sacrifice. Instead of pursuing his dreams, he’d left school to support his widowed mother and sister. Even the journey here had been a sacrifice. He’d left behind an opportunity with Curtiss Aeroplane. And now he’d likely given his life to save children he didn’t even know.
As the blaze continued without a sign of Hendrick or the children, hope dwindled. No one could survive that inferno. Anna joined them, and the three women clung to each other, alternately closing their eyes against the terrible spectacle and scanning the building in hopes they’d spot a survivor.
Anna was the first to cry out. “Children!”
Mariah peered in the direction Anna indicated while the housekeeper gripped her arm even tighter. Eventually, she saw them, the two youngest, walking out from the far side of the building where the fire wasn’t as hot. Teachers rushed to gather them up.
“No Constance.” The Indian woman bit her quivering lip.
“There’s still time,” Mariah said hopefully. “They have to make it out. They have to.”
But time was running out. All but one corner of the building had collapsed. The fire engine pumped water on that corner, but the fire could not be stopped or even slowed now. It would burn until it had consumed everything.
Mariah leaned heavily against the Overland’s fender, too numb and tired to feel more than emptiness. No one could have survived. All sense told her they couldn’t have. She closed her eyes and let the tears bubble up.
Hendrick had died never knowing she loved him.
As the chill of night descended, she knew that nothing else mattered. Love was indeed the greatest gift of all. Hendrick had given it to her, and she’d withheld it from him. If given another chance… No, it was over.
Exhausted, she knelt beside the Indian woman and hugged her tight. No words could quiet the grief. They could only weep.
“Hendrick!” Anna cried in disbelief.
Mariah’s eyelids shot open. He’d survived? She soon spotted him walking from behind the smoking ruins. He was black, singed, his clothing charred. And in his arms, he carried a child.
“Constance,” the housekeeper cried, running toward them.
The little girl held out her arms, and joy flooded both the mother’s and the daughter’s cries. Hendrick set Constance down, and she ran into her mother’s arms. The two became one, sobbing and caressing each other to be sure they weren’t dreaming.
Then he walked toward Anna and her. Mariah held her breath, anxious to wrap her arms around him, to tell him that she loved him.
But Hendrick walked right past her to hug his sobbing sister. “It’s all right now. Everyone is all right.”
Mariah let the pain sink deep. She’d gotten what she wanted. He no longer cared for her.
The church opened its doors to the fire victims, but by the time the fire backed onto itself and Hendrick and his crew suppressed the blaze into a smoldering pile of embers, most of the children had been taken into local homes.
He scanned the sanctuary-turned-relief center. A couple of children remained, surrounded by adults who gave them food, water and blankets. The teachers assisted, and Sowich sat in the front pew, staring blankly at the altar. Mariah was not there. Probably with Gillard, Hendrick thought bitterly.
“The students aren’t Blackfeet,” Judge Weiss explained as they downed cups of coffee.
“Then where are they from?” The hot liquid scalded Hendrick’s already raw throat. He coughed. The smoke had taken its toll, no doubt, but at least everyone was safe.
“Some from across the Divide, others from as far as the Dakotas. Indian Affairs, in its infinite wisdom, decided the children needed to go to school far from their tribes so their parents and elders wouldn’t influence them. They want to assimilate and civilize the Indians. No one ever stops to question why. These people have a rich heritage.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t deserve to die.”
Apparently, Judge Weiss agreed with Hendrick when it came to government policy. “Bad idea.”
The judge nodded. “But the school’s gone now, so we can do the right thing. We’ll take ’em in, get ’em settled down and then send ’em home.”
Hendrick was glad to hear that. “There’s a little girl, Constance, the last one I brought out of the fire. I promised to take her back to her parents.”
“Constance Eagle.” The judge nodded toward the far pew where Gillard’s housekeeper stroked Constance’s hair. “Talltree said she’s Salish, what we call Flathead, from over on the other side of the Divide. She’s one of the ones Gillard brought to the school.”
“Gillard brought her? Why would he do that? Certainly not to get a housekeeper.”
“For the bounty, son. When parents refused to send their children to the school and the police wouldn’t yank them out by force, Sowich offered cash to anyone who could bring in a child.”
Hendrick felt sick. “Gillard took her from her home?”
“He wasn’t alone. There are a lot of unscrupulous characters out here who’ll do anything for money. Gillard’s just one of the worst.”
Hendrick fingered the bills in his pocket. “I’m going to make sure Constance and her mother get home. Can I drive to their reservation?”
The judge chuckled. “No, son. You’ll have to send them on the train.”
“Then that’s what I’m going to do.” He went to Mrs. Eagle, who looked up when he approached. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Constance lifted her eyes to him. She didn’t need to say a thing. Her smile told him everything.
Hendrick sat beside Mrs. Eagle. “I promised your daughter I’d get her home.” He pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket. “This is for train tic
kets and whatever else you need. Leave on the next train.”
“But Mister Lawd will stop me.” She trembled and did not take the money.
With a start, Hendrick realized that the Mr. Lord that Constance so feared was Gillard. Anger surged within him. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t. I’ll go with you if I have to.”
“You can count on it, ma’am,” the judge said from behind him. “Mr. Simmons is a man of his word. I’d take the morning train, though. Get out of town before Gillard realizes you’re gone.”
Mrs. Eagle gratefully accepted Hendrick’s money. “You’re a good man,” she whispered. “No white man so good.” She raised defiant eyes. “I help you. Keep boy from Mister Lawd.”
“What boy?” Hendrick sucked in his breath. “Do you mean Luke?”
She nodded.
“But Luke is Gillard’s son. I saw the birth certificate.”
She shook her head. “False. He have lawyer make up paper.”
Hendrick’s pulse thrummed loudly. “But Mariah, Miss Meeks, said everything checked out. He changed his name from Francesco Guillardo to Frank Gillard.”
The woman smiled triumphantly. “His real name Corliss.”
“Corliss?” Hendrick repeated, not sure he understood.
“How do you know this?” The judge squatted before her.
“Hear him tell lawyer. He need Indian boy to make tribe give him oil lease. Make up name. Make up paper.”
This was beginning to make sense. “Talltree said he claimed to the tribal council that he had an Indian son.”
Weiss nodded. “That was his advantage to get the lease.”
“But he made it up. He’s not really Luke’s father.” Hendrick’s heart pounded, hoping he understood correctly. This would save Luke a lifetime of misery.
“Mister Lawd tell lawyer he know orphan boy who look Indian. Son of man he kill in fight.”
“Dear God,” gasped a voice that tore through Hendrick. Mariah.
She stood behind the judge, a tray of cinnamon rolls in her hand. Judging from the horror on her face, she’d heard everything. The tray wavered, and Hendrick took it while Judge Weiss helped her sit down. Constance reached for a roll, and he absently let her take one in each hand before handing the tray to another woman.
If he weren’t in a house of God… Well, what he had to say about Gillard couldn’t be said in a house of worship. Gillard wasn’t Luke’s father; he’d murdered the man. No wonder the boy was terrified of him. Peter had said that Luke confided in him. That must be why Peter defended him so staunchly. The boys from the orphanage had formed a tight bond that even loving families couldn’t break.
“That’s a mighty serious accusation,” the judge was saying, “though I wouldn’t put it past him. The trouble is, we only have your word, ma’am. Sorry to say, but no jury in these parts’ll take the word of an Indian woman. We need proof.”
Hendrick sat down heavily. He didn’t relish searching Gillard’s house again. “If he’s not really Luke’s father, he doesn’t have the real birth certificate. Maybe if we could get the real one—”
“We don’t need it.” Mariah’s eyes flashed with excitement. “All Gillard wants is the oil lease. Remove that, and he has no need for Luke.”
“True.” The judge tapped his lips with his finger. “Mrs. Eagle, would you be willing to tell the tribal business council what you just told me? A local jury might not believe you, but the tribal council will. I think that will put an end to Mr. Gillard’s application and therefore his interest in the boy.”
Mrs. Eagle nodded her assent.
“And to make sure Gillard doesn’t cry foul,” the judge continued, “I’ll withdraw my application and suggest the tribe reopen the application period.”
“Thank you,” Mariah said. “Thank you all. I pray it’s enough.”
“Oh, it’ll be enough.” The judge slapped his thigh. “Once Gillard realizes we know his real name, he’ll slither off into whatever hole he crawled out of. Corliss, eh? If I had the rest of his name and an idea where this killing took place, I could see if there’s a warrant out for his arrest.”
“Desmond,” Mariah said, her eyes glassy. “Desmond Corliss, and it probably happened in Detroit.”
Hendrick wondered how she knew that. “Is that what he told the agency?”
“A Desmond Corliss signed the paperwork when he dropped off Luke at the Detroit mission. We thought it was an agency mistake.” She sighed and rubbed her sooty face.
“That should be enough,” the judge said.
“I hope you’re right,” she whispered.
Judge Weiss patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Mrs. Eagle, the head of the council lives next door. If you could take a few minutes to tell him your story, we’ll have this settled before you catch your train.” He nodded toward the open doors, through which night was giving way to early dawn.
Judging by the pale gray, it was probably no later than five-thirty in the morning. Hendrick stretched his limbs, eager for a bath and a hot meal, both of which would have to wait until he’d seen Constance and her mother safely onto the morning train.
“Thank you, Judge,” Mariah said quietly, shaking his hand.
“Don’t you worry, miss, we’ll skin that skunk.” The judge sauntered to the doorway, put on his hat and waited for Mrs. Eagle.
Hendrick turned to the Indian woman and Constance, who was asleep, a half-eaten cinnamon roll still clutched in her hand. “I’ll carry her, if you’d like.”
The woman nodded, and he lifted Constance’s tiny frame, scarcely heavier than a basket of apples. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and she sighed and cuddled closer, secure in his arms. Nothing had ever felt better.
Constance would go home. So would he. Hendrick knew Mariah waited behind him. He sensed that she wanted to talk, but he couldn’t, not yet, not while the wounds of rejection were still raw. Without looking back, he strode out into the shimmering gray of dawn, carrying the one person who trusted him implicitly.
He’d walked away without saying goodbye. During those horrible minutes when Mariah thought he would never get out of the fire alive, she’d regretted never telling him that she loved him—only him—but of course nothing she said could change the barrier between them. She’d watched how tenderly he held Constance, the look of joy on his face. Mariah could never give him the child he so desperately wanted.
She could make sure that Luke stayed home, though. Even if Gabe didn’t understand her garbled message, he couldn’t have gotten on a train yet. The first train wouldn’t leave Pearlman for an hour. She had time to reach him.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” the pastor’s wife gently asked. Short and plain, she nonetheless radiated beauty, a beauty that reflected a pure soul.
“No, thank you. I just need to place a telephone call.” Mariah clasped her hands. “Thank you so much for all you did tonight. It was an answer to prayer.”
The woman smiled softly. “God always answers prayer, though sometimes not the way we imagine.”
Not the way we imagine. As Mariah took her leave, she wondered if God would answer her prayer and show her a way into Hendrick’s heart. She didn’t deserve it. But then no one deserved the great gift God had given mankind. No one deserved the gift of His Son.
As the cool morning air brushed against her face, Mariah felt renewed. The northerly breeze blew the last traces of smoke and grime from her, cleansing her with God’s healing touch. The heaviness lifted from her soul and hope returned. God had brought good people to help Luke, people she could never have expected. He would answer her prayers.
She laughed and caught a hand to her mouth. It was too early to make such noise, but she wanted to skip and giggle like a little girl. After calling Gabe and stealing a nap, she’d tell Hendrick that she loved him.
Maybe he’d give her one more chance.
When Mariah awoke hours later, she breathed in the sweet lavender scent of the pillowcase. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
Probably because, for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t worried about Luke. Yes, yes, worry was sinful. Worriers didn’t trust God, and that’s exactly where she’d erred, but He’d forgiven her, granted her a fresh start and saved Luke.
She smiled at the news she’d received earlier. Gabe hadn’t left. He hadn’t even told Luke or Felicity. The telephone connection had cut off before she delivered her confused message, so he waited for her to call back. Later that night Felicity went into labor and gave birth to a healthy little girl. A girl. Mariah could hardly wait to see her. The pastor’s wife was right. God did answer prayers, though not always the way people imagined.
Mariah rolled over and noticed that Anna was gone. She sat up with a start. The girl’s bag was missing, along with every article of clothing, even the souvenir hat from South Dakota. If she was gone, then so was Hendrick.
The train.
She dressed as quickly as possible, but her fingers fumbled over the buttons and stockings. Her wildly curled hair still smelled smoky, but she didn’t have time to bathe.
She raced downstairs and found Mrs. Pollard alone at the desk. “Where is Anna Simmons?”
The woman didn’t look up from her ledger. “Checked out.”
Mariah’s pulse raced. “When is the eastbound train?” The lobby’s flocked rose-striped wallpaper spun wildly.
“Six tonight.”
Thank goodness. She still had time.
“Have yourself a cinnamon roll, dearie,” Mrs. Pollard said, shoving a small plate under her nose.
The plate reminded her of the tray of Mrs. Pollard’s rolls she’d taken to the church last night and how Hendrick had taken it from her hands. Then she thought of the gentle way he’d lifted Constance, and the look on his face. He had risked his life to save her. A lump formed in her throat as the mournful cry of a train whistle reverberated through the open lobby doors.
Mariah clutched Mrs. Pollard’s hand. “I thought you said the eastbound train leaves at six.”
Mrs. Pollard shrugged. “Could take the twelve-thirty to Shelby and change trains.”
All Roads Lead Home Page 23