Questions for Discussion
Even though Jo and Cora are very different, they have an immediate affinity from the start of the book. Why do you suppose they are drawn to each other?
Many people in Cimarron Springs insist on treating Jo as a tomboy instead of a lady. Why do you suppose it’s difficult for people to change their first impressions of one another?
Cora forces Jo to examine her life in a new light. What are some of the things Jo discovers about herself?
Garrett is worried that once people discover his past, they will judge him based on his father’s actions and not his own. Do you think his fears are justified?
Jo changes her appearance as the book progresses. When does pride in one’s appearance transform into vanity?
Although Jo’s mom is skeptical of the marriage, she shows her support by gifting Jo with cowboy boots on her wedding day. Do you think Jo understands the significance of the gesture?
Jack Elder refers to marriage as “worthwhile work.” Do you agree or disagree? Why?
Why is it important for Garrett to secure the town’s approval of his marshal status after he reveals his secret? Do you think his insistence is necessary?
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Excerpt
Marietta, Georgia
Early Spring, 1945
“I’ve got another assignment for you.”
Merrilee Daniels Davenport stiffened at the words, any joy she might have had watching her nephew with his new bride evaporating like the morning mist on Sweetwater Creek. Keeping the Army Air Corps informed on the comings and goings of the folks living in her boardinghouse bothered her to no end, even if it was, as Major Evans had said many times, her patriotic duty to keep the area safe from hidden enemies while the war raged on. The major would not relax his vigilance, not even now that the end of the war was in sight. The United States and her Allies had the Germans on the run in Europe and were making inroads on Japan’s hold in the Pacific. Still, the major’s surveillance carried on—which meant that hers did, too.
Not that there was anything patriotic about her reasons for aiding Patrick Evans in his new investigation. The carrot the major dangled in front of her had been enough to enlist her help.
A chance for her daughter to be whole again.
“What do you need me to do this time?” The knots in her shoulder loosened a hair, but not enough to relieve the ache radiating across her back.
“Not one to beat around the bush, are you?” Turning to face her, the major thrust his hat under his arm and leaned back against the supporting post. His expression was relaxed, as if this spy nonsense was as normal as apple pie.
Merrilee shifted to face him, but not before noting the widespread looks of interest on her kinsfolk’s faces. Probably thought she could do a lot worse than pairing up with the major, maybe get married again. Well, she’d loved only one man, and while their marriage had brought joy, it had ended in unbearable heartache when her husband—off working with the Civilian Conservation Corps—had filed for divorce without a word of warning. “You’re the one who mentioned a new assignment.”
Evans’s soft chuckle grated on her nerves. “True enough. Guess it just threw me after the fight you put up when I first approached you about following Edie Michaels. But everything worked out in the end.” He nodded toward where the bridal couple stood talking to their guests. “I’m betting Beau thinks so, too. He and Edie look very happy together.”
“They are,” Merrilee agreed. Seemed like everyone who lived beneath her roof radiated the delight of finding true love these days. First, her niece, Maggie, had paired up with Captain Wesley Hicks, then Beau and Edie. In recent months, whispers that Merrilee’s well water was spiked with just the right ingredients to find matrimonial bliss had been making the rounds through the church circle. And just last week, she’d caught Honoria Lee pumping water into her favorite large bucket, babbling some silly nonsense about needing to find husbands for all five of her daughters.
Complete rubbish. If that tall tale were so, Merrilee would still be a married woman herself instead of raising her daughter alone. A vague sense of sadness drifted through her. No sense crying over the past; the present was bad enough as it was. “Why does General Carson think I’m the person for this job?”
The major dropped his gaze to the floor, as if he’d find the words he needed in the seams of the marred boards of her porch. “Because you’re friends with the parties involved in this case.”
That got her attention. “What’s the case? What are the ‘parties’ involved in?”
“The black market.”
Merrilee automatically shook her head. Evans had come up with some doozies over the past few months, but this one had to be the icing on top of the cake! Keeping secrets in a small town like Marietta was nigh impossible—especially a secret that big. Granted, there were many new faces in town since the Bell Bomber Plant had opened more than two years ago, but most were there to earn a fair wage wiring the fuselage or riveting screws on the massive B-29s that the army used in the Pacific. Still, a black market was no good unless people knew it was around. If such a thing existed in Marietta, she’d have heard about it before now.
No, Major Evans was barking up the wrong tree this time, but his allegations had piqued her interest. “Exactly who do you think is involved?”
Reaching into his coat pocket, the major pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to her. “A few days ago, one of the mechanics came to my office with this. He said he found it crumpled on the floor in the men’s locker room.”
Merrilee glanced down at the flyer in her hand. At first, it looked like any one of a dozen wartime ads printed in the newspaper or posted on the sides of buildings in the Marietta Square. But the more she studied it, the more the message sunk in. “What does this mean, farm fresh eggs without the hassle of ration stamps?”
The major glanced around the yard, then back at her. “We’ve heard that one of the local farms is supplying restricted goods to the black market dealer who drew up this ad.”
“Who’s your source?” Merrilee asked.
“Someone I trust.”
Her teeth pressed into the tender skin of her inner lip. Probably someone like herself who thought they were doing their patriotic duty. Had Evans made this spy promises like the one he’d made her? What would the major give in exchange for information? Merrilee flicked the edge of the paper with her fingernail. “Then why not go after the dealer? He’s the one making a living off the rations.”
The relaxed smile he’d flashed for the benefit of their audience flattened into a tight line. “We’ve tried, but he’s a slick one. This isn’t the first time he’s run this sort of operation. He never stays in one place long enough for us to catch him.”
“He moves his market around?”
Evans gave her a stern nod. “That’s why we need to catch whoever’s supplying him. It may be our only chance to stop him.”
No wonder the major was on edge. This modern-day pirate took food out of the mouths of their fighting men on the front.
Merrilee took a deep breath, dread tightening into a hard knot in the pit of her stomach. Despite her disgust at the idea of a black market supplier, s
he was still uneasy with the role she’d have to play. Which one of her neighbors was she about to betray now? “Who does the army suspect is helping him?”
Major Evans slipped a finger beneath his shirt collar and tugged, as though the words had caught in his throat. “My informant believes it’s Aurora Adair.”
Merrilee blinked. The man couldn’t have shocked her more if he told her Roosevelt himself was dancing a jig down the streets of Berlin. “Your informant has a screw loose.”
“I told General Carson you’d say that.”
She seriously doubted that. “Anybody who’s been in Marietta for any length of time would tell you that Ms. Aurora is the most kindhearted, giving person in the world. She’s taken in deserted kids and given them a home for as far back as I can remember.”
“Don’t you think that’s odd?” the major replied. “A woman taking in a bunch of...feeble-minded kids? Why bother with them at all?”
Irritation flashed through her at the major’s obvious disdain for the physically and mentally disabled children Aurora took in. “And where do you think those children should go, Major? Out on the street? Or would you rather they be dropped off at the state institution in Milledgeville?”
He chuckled. “I hadn’t really considered it.”
Of course, he hadn’t. Neither had the doctors who’d evaluated Claire in the last year after she’d contracted polio. That was why this assignment was so important. Claire needed therapy to regain full use of her legs. And the major held the key to making Merrilee’s dreams of treatment for Claire into reality.
But could she betray her old friend’s trust?
She didn’t have a choice, not with Claire’s future at stake. “What do you need to know?”
Evans gave her a sardonic smile that made her stomach sour. “Who has she got living out there with her right now?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been there.” Not since the night she’d showed up on Aurora’s doorstep, terrified by the possibility of losing Claire to polio. Merrilee shook off the memory. “I only know of a boy and a little girl who have been with Ms. Aurora for years.”
“Anyone else?”
“I wasn’t really taking a head count the last time I paid her a visit.”
Her sarcasm bounced off him like Claire’s baseball against the shed door. “So she could have a few older boys who work the fields for her.”
The way he said it, as if he’d stated a proved fact, bothered her. “If she did, she’d keep it close to the chest.” Aurora had to. If the state learned she harbored those children, she ran the risk of losing them. Worse still, Billy and Ellie would be dragged off and institutionalized.
One dark brow disappeared beneath his major’s cap. “That’s why the general thinks you’re perfect for this assignment. Aurora Adair trusts you, so you can get us information most operatives couldn’t.”
Merrilee turned toward him, leaning in close. No sense having the whole town knowing Ms. Aurora’s business. “You haven’t met any of her children, have you?”
“Why would I want to meet them?” The major leaned closer, his gaze stark and unyielding. “Besides, what better way to run an undercover operation than get a bunch of mush heads doing your dirty work?”
The muscles in her throat tightened around the words she wanted to say, but Merrilee decided not to waste her breath. Major Patrick Evans had his own distorted sense of the world, a view that ran completely opposite of her own, and no amount of arguing with him would change that. “Feeding a houseful of kids takes a lot of groceries, and I’m sure Ms. Aurora doesn’t get near enough ration stamps to keep food on the table.”
“Then how did she get the money to buy the farm next door in cash?”
“Cash?” Church mice had more money than Aurora, not that she ever seemed to mind. Material possessions had never had much of a hold on the older woman. Which made it odd that she would even consider purchasing another farm, much less buying it outright. There had to be a good reason for this, but what? “Maybe she needed more space for the kids and got a good deal on the land.”
Major Evans shook his head. “According to Mr. Todd’s son, Ms. Adair offered him the full asking price for the place and had a bank draft the next day.”
Merrilee felt sick. To listen to Evans, he’d already tried and convicted Aurora; all that was left to do was for Merrilee to uncover evidence to convince a jury. Her peers would never know how Aurora had smoothed back the matted hair from Merrilee’s face just moments before Claire was born or how the older woman had held her when the doctors weren’t sure Claire would survive her bout with polio. The woman’s common sense and unconditional love had pushed Merrilee to rebuild her life when her marriage collapsed, to be the woman God wanted her to be.
I know the plans I have for you, plans for good and not evil.
Merrilee glanced toward a massive oak, its limbs laden with crisp green leaves that shaded a grassy patch of land where the children played a noisy game of Red Rover. Leaning against the sturdy trunk, her daughter Claire clung to her crutch for dear life, pressing it tightly against her side. Was this God’s plan to supply Claire’s need for therapy—betray the woman who’d been more of a mother than a friend?
Claire pushed away from the tree, the grass beneath her right foot parting as she tried to catch up with the crutch. Merrilee’s lungs stung and she forced herself to breathe. Evans knew what he was doing when he’d made her this offer. “If I do this, when do you think I can take Claire to Warm Springs for therapy?”
“It’ll be a while.”
The muscles in her jaw began to throb. “Why is that, Major?”
He hesitated. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
Which meant that the rumors swirling in the Atlanta newspapers about Roosevelt being in Georgia were probably true. But how long would the president reside in Warm Springs, what with the war going on?
In the meantime the army expected her to spy like some Mata Hari on a woman she cared for, all on the hope General Carson would secure Claire a slot at Warm Springs. But what else could she do? The clinic was Claire’s last hope to free herself from her crutch. “I need the general’s word that the minute an appointment opens up, I’ll be free to take Claire there myself.”
“You know he can’t do that, Merrilee.”
“Then maybe I should wait,” she answered. “Claire has been on the waiting list for a few months now, and the last time I called, the nurse thought a slot would be opening up soon. Perhaps I don’t need the army’s influence to help us after all.”
The major gently took her elbow and nudged her toward the swing in the corner of her front porch. After she took a seat, he sat down beside her, giving all the wedding guests the appearance of a gentleman coming to call.
But the words he whispered were far from romantic. “Are you sure you want to take that risk, Merrilee? I know you’re close to losing this place with all the medical bills you owe. And the army has a way of burying plans in a mountain of paperwork, especially when the brass wants a mission completed.”
Merrilee jerked back, her throat burning. “What are you saying? That General Carson would find a way to keep Warm Springs from offering Claire treatment?”
“He could.”
She clutched the chain holding the swing, the metal links digging into her palms. The longer therapy was postponed, the more likely Claire would never recover full use of her leg. “Claire’s a little girl, Patrick, and the only place she can receive the therapy she needs is in Warm Springs.”
“And General Carson believes you’re the only person who can successfully complete this mission.”
Trapped! Bile scorched a fiery path up Merrilee’s throat. She didn’t have a choice. Claire had to have her chance to regain the use of her leg, and the clinic in Warm Springs was her best shot. An odd mixture of relief a
nd defeat slithered through her.
Merrilee nibbled on her lower lip. Aurora was too honorable a woman for this not to be on the up-and-up. What if, by helping Major Evans, Merrilee could prove the allegations wrong? She turned the notion over in her mind. Yes, she could do that, and when she turned the information over to Major Evans, he’d have to drop his suspicions against the older woman.
And give Claire her best hope at recovering the use of her leg. “When do I get started?”
The urge to smack the smug smile off the major’s face made her fingers burn. “Immediately. And when you bring in the evidence and we make our arrest, the army will be more than happy to help Claire.”
“I will provide whatever help our daughter is in need of.”
Every nerve ending in Merrilee’s body jolted awake at the rich, tenor voice rumbling against the wooden planks of the porch. The voice was unmistakable, even though it was a shade deeper, more mature than the last time she’d heard it a dozen years ago. The thick humid air suddenly grew thinner, sucking the breath out of her lungs. The sound of solid steps came closer, spreading out like ocean waves inside her before settling into a dull ache around the heart he’d left broken.
John Davenport. Her former husband.
The swing shifted behind her before Merrilee realized she had stood to her feet. Her thoughts were scrambled but she needed to say something. Anything. “What are you doing here?”
His bright blue eyes sliced through her like the fiery torches she’d seen at the bomber plant, cutting through the thick sheets of steel. But it was his answer that set her knees to trembling.
“I’m here to see my daughter.”
* * *
The hard tangle of emotions wrestling around in John Davenport’s belly surprised him. Confronting the Japanese on the beaches at Guadalcanal hadn’t twisted his gut as much as the thought of meeting his eleven-year-old daughter for the very first time.
And if he was honest, his former wife. Steadying himself for battle, he leveled his sights on the woman standing before him.
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