My Heart Belongs in the Superstition Mountains

by Susan Page Davis

  “God is my refuge,” she whispered, but she still felt utterly alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Freeland rose early and went down to Mrs. Finney’s kitchen. She was there already, packing a basket with biscuits, slices of ham, boiled eggs, and a jar of jelly.

  “I’d go with you if I could,” she said mournfully.

  “No, you’ve got to fix breakfast for the other boarders,” Freeland said. “I’ll take this to Carmela for you.”

  “Mind you keep it steady.” She put in a small corked jug. “Miss Wade likes tea in the morning, not coffee.”

  He smiled. “I don’t think she’s been getting it very often the last few weeks, except when she was at your house.”

  “Well, she deserves it,” Mrs. Finney said. “She’s a good girl.”

  “That she is.” Freeland’s throat felt a bit prickly, and he swallowed hard. He hadn’t known Carmela long, but he’d seen strength in her, as well as a compassionate side that drew him. He longed to ask her to return to Tucson with him, but he feared it was too soon for that. He didn’t suppose she cared about him the same way he had come to care for her. That would take some time, and he couldn’t just stay here in the capital, hoping she’d fall in love with him.

  “There.” Mrs. Finney tucked a checked dish towel over the top of the basket. “She can bring those things back when she’s ready to come home.”

  Home. This would be a good home for her, Freeland thought. Even so, he wished she wouldn’t stay here. He would hardly ever see her if she did. Only once or twice a year, when he brought prisoners in for trial.

  “Go on with you,” Mrs. Finney said. “I’ve got to start my flapjack batter.”

  “Yes ma’am. Thank you.” He took the basket and hustled out the back door.

  Early risers were opening their shops or harnessing their teams for the day’s work, but overall, the town seemed much quieter than it had the day before. Freeland hurried to the marshal’s office and found Benny Lassiter sitting at Duffield’s desk, leaning back in the chair with his booted feet on the desktop.

  “Morning,” Freeland said. “All quiet?”

  “Yup.” Benny lowered his feet to the floor with a thud. “The marshal went home a couple hours ago to get some sleep.”

  “I brought breakfast for Miss Wade,” Freeland said. “Is she up?”

  “Haven’t seen her.” Benny reached out and tweaked the checked napkin that covered the basket. “Smells good.”

  “Keep out of that!” Freeland held the basket away from Benny, though he knew it held enough provisions for at least four people.

  “Oh, don’t wake the snakes,” Benny said. “She’s yonder.” He jerked his head toward the closed door to Duffield’s room.

  Freeland went over to the door and tapped lightly then listened.

  “Yes?” came Carmela’s wary voice.

  “It’s me. Freeland. I brought you something to eat.”

  A moment later, the bolt slid and the door opened. Carmela, a bit puffy-eyed but looking fit to go calling, peered out at him. “You brought breakfast?”

  He nodded. “From Mrs. Finney. I spent the night there, and she insisted.”

  “How kind of her.” She opened the door wider. “There’s a little table in here, or do you want to eat on the marshal’s desk?”

  “In here’s fine,” Freeland said. “There’s enough for Benny, too, if you don’t mind.”

  Carmela smiled, as though relieved they would have a chaperone. “Please invite him.”

  Freeland turned and nodded to the deputy. “Come on in, Benny. If you’re quick, you can eat some real food before they bring that slop over from the tavern for the prisoners.”

  “Their food ain’t that bad,” Benny said, but he rose and entered the now cramped room.

  “Fetch the stool,” Freeland said.

  Soon the three of them were seated, and Carmela unpacked Mrs. Finney’s bounty on the cleared nightstand. Benny went to the main room to pour coffee for himself and Freeland.

  “Oh, she sent tea.” Carmela face softened as she sniffed the brew. “She’s such a thoughtful woman.”

  Freeland had barely offered a blessing when the prisoners’ breakfast arrived. Benny sighed and went to help distribute the rations.

  “So, the crowd didn’t come back,” Carmela said.

  “No, and I don’t think anyone bothered the doc either.” Freeland opened the jar of jelly and fished a spoon from the basket. “Want some?”

  “Yes, please. Mrs. Finney makes the best apple jelly I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Good morning!” Marshal Duffield’s large form nearly filled the doorway. His eyes were shadowed underneath, but that was the only sign he gave of not getting enough rest.

  Freeland jumped up. “Howdy, Marshal. Have you had breakfast?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Well, have a seat,” Freeland said, giving him Benny’s plate.

  “Thank you. Miss Wade, I trust your night was tolerable?”

  “Yes, reasonably peaceful.”

  Duffield nodded. “I don’t see any reason to keep you here, unless you feel unsafe.”

  “I think I’d like to go back to the boardinghouse.” She threw Freeland an anxious glance. “Unless Buck Chard is going to make a fuss.”

  “Mrs. Finney sent him packing last night,” Freeland said. “I think you’re safe there.”

  Benny came to the doorway. “Oh Marshal, I’m glad you’re here. One of them outlaws says he feels poorly and needs to see the doctor again.”

  Duffield sighed, took a bite of his biscuit, sipped the coffee from Benny’s cup, and pushed to his feet. “Always something,” he muttered as he left the room.

  In the quiet, Freeland and Carmela looked at each other. Freeland wanted to smile, but the thought of him leaving for Tucson and her staying behind made him feel all droopy inside.

  She opened her mouth as if to speak when the outer door of the office opened and a feminine voice called, “Hello?”

  Freeland rose and hurried into the main room. A young woman stood uncertainly on the threshold, a basket over her arm.

  “Hello, ma’am,” Freeland said.

  “I’m Rilla Landis. I heard Miss Wade spent the night here for safety, and I brought her breakfast.”

  Carmela came to the door of the small room and smiled broadly. “Rilla! How kind of you. Please come in.” She gave her friend a quick hug and led her to the chamber where they had their breakfast set out.

  “Oh my, you’ve got aplenty,” Rilla said.

  “Never too much with all the men who come and go here,” Carmela said. “Won’t you join us? I guess you know Deputy McKay.”

  “Not really,” Rilla said, eyeing him cautiously.

  Carmela soon made the introductions, and they decided to move the meal out to the marshal’s desk after all, so they would have more room. Carmela gathered plates and Freeland’s basket, while he moved the stool and chairs, and he settled once more to eat with Rilla and Carmela about the desk. The two women pushed more food on him until soon Freeland had so much bacon, biscuits, eggs, ham, and cornpone on his plate that he doubted he could eat it all.

  “So, you think you’ll stay on with Mrs. Finney?” Rilla asked Carmela.

  “I … don’t really know what else to do.”

  “You can come live with me.” Rilla grasped her arm. “If you don’t want to live at my pa’s place, we could rent a room together. I could get a job in town.”

  “Thank you. That might be nice. But Mrs. Finney wishes me to stay with her.” Carmela hesitated. “I’m still not sure about staying in this town. Some of the people are very bitter against me. I keep wondering if I should just leave. But I don’t know where I’d go.”

  “Your uncle …” Rilla raised her eyebrows.

  “He’s gone,” Carmela said. “I’m on my own now.”

  Rilla nodded.

  “I think I’ll stay with Mrs. Finney, at least for a few days, and ask the
Lord what I should do.” Carmela’s smile seemed more determined than happy. “If only I knew a place where I could go and live peacefully, without folks getting all upset.”

  “Well, you think on it,” Rilla said.

  When they had eaten, Rilla extracted a promise from Carmela to keep her advised of her plans and then left for home. After the chaos of collecting the prisoners’ breakfast dishes was done, Freeland told the marshal he would escort Miss Wade back to the boardinghouse.

  “All right,” Duffield said, “but I may need you later. We’re going to transfer a couple of these hoodlums out of here.”

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” Freeland promised.

  Duffield nodded. “Good day, Miss Wade. If you have any trouble, you send for me and my men, you hear?”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  They went outside and began the walk to Mrs. Finney’s. Freeland realized that between the two of them, they now knew quite a few people in town. It seemed every other passerby had a word for one of them or at least a tip of the hat.

  He wanted to know if she truly wished to stay here in Prescott. She hadn’t sounded that way, really. But she might want to be on her own, be independent. She’d said other times that she’d never had a chance to do that. So far as Freeland knew, most women didn’t want to live on their own. Men did, sure, but … but what did he know about women, anyway?

  “People seem friendlier today,” Carmela said.

  “Yes.” Freeland wondered how he was ever going to find a chance to talk to her. The people they encountered on the way made the walk too distracting for a conversation. But if he waited until they reached Mrs. Finney’s, the landlady would want a full account of Carmela’s stay at the jail. Finally, he drew her aside, where a sizable oak tree had somehow escaped being chopped down for firewood or lumber and now shadowed a vacant lot.

  “Carmela, stop here a minute,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”

  She complied and stood beneath the oak’s branches, looking up at him expectantly. “What is it?”

  “What you said to Rilla a while ago—about wanting a place where you could go and live peacefully …”

  Carmela nodded.

  “Well, I don’t know if Tucson could be considered a peaceful place. In fact, since the war, it’s been kind of a mess. A lot of Southern sympathizers and more than our share of army deserters seem to think it’s a good place to settle.”

  Carmela frowned at him, and he realized he wasn’t making a very good case for his town.

  “What I mean is, it might not be the ideal place, but it’s where I live, and it’s where I work, and … well, I wondered if you’d consider coming back to Tucson and staying there with me and my ma. She’d love to have you, and—”

  Carmela cocked her head to one side. “Do you think I could get a job there? I couldn’t just board with you and your mother without paying something.”

  “Oh, I—that’s not exactly what I meant.” He hauled in a deep breath. This wasn’t going the way he had hoped. “I was thinking … Well, that is …”

  Her dark eyes took on a troubled cast, but otherwise she was beautiful, and that in itself made it hard for Freeland to concentrate. He gathered his courage in both hands and opened his mouth again. “I was hoping you’d marry me.”

  Carmela’s heart leaped at Freeland’s words. It was what she had hoped for these last few days, but she had decided it was too much to expect. Her heart pounded. He wouldn’t say something like that if he didn’t mean it, would he?

  “I …” She caught her breath and tried again. “Are you sure?”

  His face softened, and his anxiety seemed to melt. “Of course I’m sure.”

  “But what about …”

  “The people who wanted you arrested?”

  Carmela shook her head. “I meant the ink on my face. And what I did with Uncle Silas. All of it.”

  Freeland’s eyes widened, and slowly he smiled. “This may sound strange, but for a little while I forgot all about the tattoos.”

  She put a hand up to her chin. “They’re still there, aren’t they? I haven’t seen a mirror today …”

  “Oh, they’re still there. But I guess I don’t notice them anymore. And they are getting faint. I bet they’d be gone by the time we got to Tucson … if you want to, that is.”

  “Maybe people won’t recognize me when they’re gone.” Her voice quivered, and she looked to him for assurance.

  “If they do, I’ll be right there with you to help you explain things.”

  Such love and joy welled up inside Carmela that she could barely contain it. She reached out to touch his arm, below the basket handle, and realized she was trembling.

  “Thank you. That sounds truly wonderful. But I’m not sure it’s enough, Freeland.”

  He swallowed hard. “I know you don’t want to have to do what someone else tells you all the time. I get that. You spent a lot of years at your uncle’s beck and call. But I wouldn’t make you do anything like speaking or—or anything you didn’t like doing. I promise.”

  Carmela pressed her lips together and looked deep into his eyes. He was such a good man. And right now, she had him scared to death. She didn’t like having that power over him.

  “That’s not what I meant. Not at all.”

  “Well, what is it, then?”

  “Respect and kindness are good things, Freeland. I appreciate those. But I want to marry a man who truly … loves me. I thought before that I could do without it, but no one’s truly loved me since my parents died. I want … I want a man I love, who will love me in return for the rest of my life.”

  Freeland’s fretful expression faded, and his smile grew. He set down Mrs. Finney’s basket and put his hands on her shoulders. “I do, Carmela. It’s not something that’s easy for a man to say the first time, but I do love you.”

  Her joy spilled over in a little laugh. “Then I say yes, because I love you, too. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  His grasp on her shoulders tightened. “You won’t regret it.” She wondered if he would lean down and kiss her at last.

  “Hey Deppity,” a man called from the street. “Whatcha up to?”

  Freeland’s face flushed. “Come on. Let’s get back to Mrs. Finney’s. She might let us use her parlor, where there aren’t any clodheads.”

  Carmela smiled. That sounded like a good idea to her. Freeland picked up the basket, and she slipped her hand through his other arm. “Mrs. Finney likes you. I believe she’ll allow you to call on me.”

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  Carmela walked the short distance from the McKay house to Freeland’s tiny office. The sun beat mercilessly, causing her cotton dress and chemise to stick to her. She had known it would be hot, but August in Tucson exceeded her imaginings when it came to discomfort. The month was nearly over, but Freeland had warned her that September might not be much cooler.

  Her mother-in-law had taught her to use an outdoor oven and to do her baking early, before the sun rose high. Even so, Carmela found the afternoons nearly unbearable.

  And yet, in spite of the searing heat, this summer had been the happiest of her life. Mrs. McKay had welcomed her as the daughter she’d never had, and the people of the town seemed to like Freeland and respect him. They didn’t hesitate to extend their friendship to Carmela, and no one had ever brought up the subject of her feigned captivity.

  She stepped inside the marshal’s office, but the shade of the building didn’t do much to relieve the heat. Freeland sat at the battered desk, his top two shirt buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up beyond his elbows.

  “Hi. I brought your dinner.”

  Freeland smiled and stood. “Let’s take it down to the river. We might get a breeze there.”

  “That sounds good. You don’t have any prisoners today?”

  “Nope. Had two drunks last night, but I turned ’em loose this morning.” Freeland reached for his hat.

  The door opened before t
hey could reach it, and a dusty, trail-weary man with a gleaming badge on his chest stood in the doorway.

  “Benny!” Freeland hurried forward to shake his hand. “You remember Benny Lassiter, Carmela?”

  “Of course.” She smiled. “How nice to see you again.”

  “What brings you down here?” Freeland asked.

  Benny grimaced and shook his head. “You know they’re talking again about moving the capital down here?”

  “Oh yes, there’s nothing else to talk about, seems.” Freeland frowned.

  Carmela knew his feelings, and she also wasn’t sure that moving the capital would be the best thing for Arizona. And while it would make some things handier for her and Freeland, she wasn’t sure about setting up the territorial government so close to the Mexican border.

  “So the marshal sent me down to scout out locations for his office if we have to move it.” Benny looked around. “This one sure ain’t big enough.”

  “No, it’s not,” Freeland said, “and we’ve only got one cell. I reckon we’ll have to build a new jail.”

  Benny nodded. “That’s what he’s afeared of. Well, I’ve got a bunch of papers to deliver, but the marshal told me to be sure and let you know what he heard about Miss Wade—that is, Mrs. McKay’s—uncle.”

  Carmela caught her breath. “You’ve had word of Uncle Silas in Prescott?”

  Benny nodded. “The marshal had a letter from an old friend of his in Missouri. The man’s a congressman now. Well, he said Silas Holden is the sensation of St. Louis, or he was a month or so ago.”

  “But—” Carmela stared at him. How could he carry on without her? As much as she hated to bring up the subject of her past, she was curious.

  “What’s he up to?” Freeland asked, with a quick glance at her. He stepped closer to her and rested a comforting hand on her back.

  “Well, he’s apparently filling some speaking engagements he had set up for you, ma’am,” Benny said.

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “We were supposed to go back by train after we went to California, and I know he had scheduled events in Jefferson and St. Louis, then on into Illinois.”