Magic in Her Eyes

by Donna Dalton

  A pair of swallows swooped out of Jana’s barn and lit on the clothes line. They sat, quiet and watchful, waiting for her to move. They appeared to know what the bowl in her hand meant. If only she had their fortitude. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d plowed out the door to retrieve the children, only to stop in the middle of the road, feet cold and heart sick. Charging headlong into the fray would only make the situation worse. She had to be patient, just as she expected Preston to be. She grimaced. Aristotle had it right, patience was bitter. It puckered her mouth like a green crabapple.

  She upended the bowl of stale bread crumbs into the yard. Wasteful. Old bread made for delicious bread pudding. But with so few mouths to feed, baking seemed senseless. The bread would be going to mold soon anyway. Might as well let the birds enjoy a treat.

  With a heavy heart, she retreated back through the doorway and closed the door. A deafening quiet enveloped the kitchen. She leaned against the counter and closed her eyes. Sadness sat like a sack of flour on her chest. Oh how she missed the quarrels over the last biscuit, the debates over whether honey or butter tasted better, and the races to see who could finish their milk first. She’d give anything to have all of it back. Anything.

  “Meredith, where are you?”

  Her pulse skipped just as it always did at the sound of Preston’s voice. He’d left her bed before sunrise to attend to his military duties, and probably to avoid an awkward encounter with Jana. She hadn’t expected him to return so soon…or at all for that matter. She had wounded his pride by not immediately accepting his marriage proposal. She saw it on his face and heard it in his voice. Knowing her indecision caused him pain nearly ripped her in two.

  She slowly opened her eyes and set the bowl on the counter. “I’m in the kitchen, Preston.”

  “Come into the parlor. There’s something I want to show you.”

  A sigh escaped from her lips. She just didn’t have the energy for another skirmish. Last night, he’d gone on and on about how she would enjoy being a military wife until she put him off with claims of exhaustion, which hadn’t been entirely a lie. She had been physically and mentally drained. Still was.

  She undid the apron tied at her waist and set it on the counter. Best to just get this over with. Preston Booth was a most determined man.

  As she made her way down the hall, a faint noise tickled her ear. It sounded like a child’s giggle. She turned into the parlor, and her heart took flight. Mrs. Clement and the children stood around Preston, their smiling faces a balm to her raw nerves. Her knees gave way, and she sank to the floor. A second later, she was engulfed in a throng of loving arms. Tears spilled over and bathed her cheeks.

  She kissed the top of each small head. Gabe pretended to gag. She gave him another just for good measure and then hugged the older girls. They all settled around her in a circle of love and happiness.

  “Why are you crying, Miss Talbot? Are you sad?”

  “Oh, no, my precious Anna. Those are happy tears. I’m so glad to have all of you here with me.”

  Anna smiled. “I knew you would get us back.”

  “It wasn’t all my doing.” She wiped away her tears and looked up at Preston. “How did you manage to get them released so quickly?”

  “Major Allen and I had a long conversation this morning. We discussed Mrs. Valder’s desire to turn her place into a boarding house and abandon her previous means of employment. As long as she abides by that plan, he agreed to allow the children to stay here until a new orphanage can be built. He even sent for a builder.”

  Encouraging, but there was still the matter of Harriet Allen. “What about Mrs. Allen? She has an unusual hold over her husband. What if she convinces him to change his mind?”

  “That won’t happen. Major Allen sends his apologies. He says he should never have allowed his wife’s fanaticism to get so out of hand. He is sending her back east for a prolonged visit with her sister. I suspect to not only stop her activities, but to see if his stomach ailment improves with her absence. There will be no further trouble from her or the townsfolk she incites.”

  A weight lifted from her shoulders. “That’s wonderful news. Isn’t it children?”

  Seven smiling nods answered her. Seven? Who was…of course, the intrepid explorer. “Where is Robbie?”

  Preston turned in a circle, surveying the room and counting heads. “He was in the wagon. I thought he came in with the rest of the lot.”

  Becky shook her head. “He stopped to speak with that man.”

  “What man?” A nugget of worry sprouted in her stomach.

  “The one who came to visit Mr. Hoggard at the jailhouse. He wanted to thank Robbie for stopping him from riding his horse when it was sick. Said he had a gift for him.”

  Preston’s expression darkened and he bolted for the door. Meredith leapt to her feet and raced after him. “What is it, Preston? Why does Agent Finley talking with Robbie have you so concerned?”

  He yanked open the front door and vaulted onto the porch. “Because Finley is supposed to be rotting in a jail cell right now.”

  “A jail cell? Whatever for?”

  “For possibly being involved in the recent Indian attacks.”

  That nugget of worry blossomed into full blown fear. The Indian Agent had seemed disingenuous, but she never imagined he would be out and out evil. She charged down the steps and joined Preston at the wagon. There was no sign of Robbie. She cupped clammy hands to her mouth and called for the boy.

  There was no answer. Not even the birds peeped a reply. Something tugged on her skirt, and she bent to see what it was. A tiny, whiskered creature clung to the hem. Her heart plummeted. Oh, God no.

  She scooped up the mouse and cradled it in her palm. “Robbie wouldn’t go anywhere without Petunia. Something must have happened to him. Something awful.”

  The children spilled onto the porch. “Did you find Robbie, Miss Talbot?” Becky called out.

  “Not yet,” she answered. “But we will.” They had to. Robbie had suffered enough lately. They all had.

  “Tell the children to stay on the porch,” Preston said. “I’m going to see if I can pick up any tracks.”

  Cradling the mouse, she retraced her steps to the stoop and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Becky, come down here for a moment. The rest of you stay on the porch until Lieutenant Booth says you can move. He’s looking for tracks.”

  As Becky joined her, a quick glance confirmed that Preston was occupied with studying the ground around the wagon. Good. She didn’t want him overhearing their conversation. He would have questions for which she couldn’t give him any answers.

  “What is it, Miss Talbot?”

  She handed Becky the squirming mouse. “I found Petunia over by the wagon. Ask her what happened to Robbie. Did Mr. Finley take him?”

  Becky cupped the mouse in her hands and briefly closed her eyes. After a moment, a frown creased the girl’s brow. “Petunia says the foul-smelling man grabbed Robbie and took off with him. Robbie dropped her so she could tell us what happened.”

  Such a smart boy. Hopefully those wits would keep him alive. “Which way did they go?”

  Becky focused on the mouse and then nodded. “She says the man rode away from the sun. Fast.”

  It was midmorning, so that meant Finley had headed toward the west. “Thank you, Becky. That helps a lot. You take care of Petunia until we get Robbie back. He would want you to look after her.”

  “You will get him back, won’t you?”

  “Of course we will.” She tucked a stray curl behind the girl’s ear. “Robbie will be back before you know it, pestering you and stealing tidbits from your plate for Petunia. I’ll make sure of it.”

  After giving Becky one last encouraging look, Meredith walked to where Preston crouched near the wagon. Her mind whirled with all the possible scenarios of how to get him to search in a westward direction without revealing the why-fors.

  She stopped behind him. “Can you tell whic
h way Finley went?”

  He lifted his hat and swiped sweat from his brow. “With all the comings and goings lately, the ground is pretty marked up. Hard to determine which prints came from Finley’s horse and which didn’t. I’ll need to fan out. Check for fresher tracks leading away from the wagon. It’s going to take some time.”

  Time Robbie might not have. “Try looking to the west first.”

  He squinted up at her. “Why west?”

  Why indeed. The Shoehorn shimmered against the horizon, rugged and pocked with dark splotches where the sun couldn’t reach. A thought emerged. Perhaps her nighttime forays into her father’s collection of dime novels would pay off.

  She pointed to the peak. “If I was on the run and needed a place to hide, that’s where I’d go…into the mountains. Plenty of places up there to disappear into I’d wager.”

  “A sound observation. Can’t hurt to try.” He shoved on his hat and rose. Head bent, he moved away from the wagon in a westerly direction. He searched in a methodical manner, sweeping left to right, one step forward, then back right to left. No clue would escape his detection.

  After what seemed like hours, he stopped at low spot just off the roadway and squatted. She hurried to his side. “Did you find something?”

  He ran a hand over the sparse grass. “Fresh tracks. Looks like Finley is indeed heading west. We ought to be able to track him from here.”

  A figure appeared on the road. It was Mr. Hoggard. He must have come to celebrate with them. Not much to rejoice right now.

  “Can we come down now, Lieutenant?” Gabe asked.

  Preston faced the porch. “Yes, you can come down now.”

  The children clattered down the stairs and raced toward the approaching handyman, all talking at once.

  Joseph joined her and Preston at the army wagon. “The children say Robbie is missing. What happened, Miss Talbot?”

  “Becky says she saw him talking with Agent Finley. When we came out to look for him, both he and Mr. Finley were gone.” Meredith pointed to the mouse sitting on Becky’s shoulder. “He left Petunia behind. Robbie wouldn’t do that unless something bad had happened.”

  Joseph’s face turned white as a rabbit’s underbelly. “Dear Lord no. Did Agent Finley…did he take the boy?”

  “We don’t know for certain,” Preston answered. “Finley was being detained as a possible suspect in the Indian attacks. He must have escaped somehow. Don’t know why he would seek out Meredith or the children.”

  Joseph groaned and pressed a hand to his temple. “He did it because of me.”

  “You? How are you involved, Hoggard?”

  “I saw Finley. At the orphanage…when he and his men were setting fire to it. They were garbed to look like Indians.”

  Meredith’s stomach roiled. “Oh, Joseph. Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

  “Because the blackguard threatened to harm you and the children if I revealed what I saw. Remember that day at the jailhouse when he came to visit? You left to see to one of the children. That’s when he confronted me.” Joseph leaned back against the wagon, his expression tortured. “Dear Lord, what have I done? If only I had told the truth, none of this would have happened.”

  Her heart went out to the beleaguered man. As much as she wanted to criticize his decision, she understood why he had lied. “It’s all right, Joseph. You only did what you thought was best at the time…to protect us. I would have done the same.”

  Preston’s fist slammed the wagon bed, startling the mules and her. “It’s not all right. What you did is unforgiveable, Hoggard. Now more people could die because of your cowardice.”

  She had never heard Preston speak so bitterly, or seen his face cratered with such contempt. Lies clearly set him on edge. “Preston, don’t be so harsh. Joseph had good reason for withholding the truth.”

  “No, he’s right, Miss Talbot.” Joseph pushed away from the wagon and squared himself. “It was wrong to lie, no matter what the reason. I shall go to Major Allen and tell him of Finley’s crime…as I should have done to begin with.”

  Preston footed the wagon cleat. “You do that. And while you’re there, tell the major I’m gathering a squad to search for Finley and little Robbie.”

  Not without her he wasn’t. She gathered a handful of skirt. “I’m going with you, Preston.”

  “No. It’s too dangerous.” He plopped onto the seat and gathered the reins. “Take the children inside and stay there until I get back.”

  “But I should go with you, Preston. Robbie might need me.”

  “What the boy needs is for you to stay here where it’s safe. I’ll make sure Robbie is returned to you unharmed.”

  He didn’t wait for her to reply, merely whipped up the mules and rattled off down the road at a brisk pace. Meredith whirled for the house. She could not sit idle, worrying and fretting. It would drive her mad.

  “Mrs. Clement, will you look after the children for a while?”

  “Where are you going, dearie? The lieutenant said for everyone to stay here.”

  “I know, but there’s something I have to do.”

  ****

  The bigger trees had been cleared for nearly a half mile outside of Mineral, for building materials and firewood. Over the years, undergrowth and stringy saplings had filled in the gaps. The small trees wouldn’t do her much good. Their tap roots didn’t reach deep enough. She’d have to go farther into the forest to find the gentle giants she needed.

  The cottonwood growing near Dancer’s Creek would be a good candidate. It had already provided a vision, even if it had been unsolicited. But getting to the tree would require journeying through the fort. She couldn’t risk being seen and stopped by Preston. This trek, while exhausting and time-consuming, would have to serve.

  Thorny branches scratched her arms. Vines snatched at her boots. She pushed onward, her lungs burning with the effort. She wasn’t about to stop. She had to find out where Finley had taken Robbie, before… No. She wouldn’t think about what that awful man wanted with a young boy. They were going to get Robbie back safe and sound, just as Preston promised.

  The overgrowth thinned, and the path opened to a deep gully that stretched for miles in either direction. She pulled to a gasping stop at the edge. On the other side of the chasm, the tops of several large trees reached for the clouds. Perfect. Just what she was looking for. All she had to do was cross a twenty-foot deep, rock-strewn deathtrap.

  She pulled the bottom of her skirt between her legs and tucked it into her waistband, forming a sort of pantaloons. She’d done this many times back in Pennsylvania when she and Charles had gone exploring. It made navigating steep inclines much easier.

  Easing over the lip, she worked her way down the slope, using imbedded rocks and protruding roots for hand and foot holds. It was slow going, but she didn’t want to rush and end up with a broken leg or worse.

  Halfway down, her foot slipped, and she scrambled for a purchase. Rocks and pebbles pinged on the boulders below. Her stomach and feet churning, she finally found a toehold and halted her plunging slide. She heaved out a relieved sigh. That was close.

  As she resumed her descent, a frantic voice lifted up from the gully floor. “Is someone there? Help. Please help me.”

  It sounded like a child. Irrational hope surged inside her. It could be Robbie. She clambered the rest of the way down until her feet met solid ground. Boulders and scrub brush littered the bottom of the gully. The child could be anywhere in such a maze.

  “Where are you?” she called out.

  “Over here. By the big red rock.”

  The reply seemed to be coming from a large reddish-colored boulder about fifty yards away. She made her way to the rock, watching cautiously for snakes. This time, there would be no pistol or Preston to save her from a bite.

  She rounded the boulder, and instead of Robbie, she found a boy about Gabe’s age. His left foot disappeared in a crevice between two large rocks.

  “My foot is stuck,”
he said. “Can you help me get out?”

  “I’ll try. What’s your name, young man?”

  “Pete. Pete Cavendish. My pa runs Cavendish General Store.”

  The rock-throwing, fist-tossing Pete. She ought to just leave him where he sat. It would serve him right. But she couldn’t do that. Not to a child. Such cruelty went against everything she held dear.

  She brushed dirt from her hands. “All right, Pete. Let’s see about getting you out of there. Is your foot hurt? Are you able to move it?”

  “It’s not hurt—just trapped. And no, I can’t move it. It’s caught tight. I was jumping on the rocks and slipped. My boot got jammed in the gap.”

  Boys. Always getting into some disaster or other—usually of their own making. She moved behind him and slid her hands under his arms. “I’m going to pull while you push against the rock with your other foot. Ready?” At his nod, she barked, “Push.”

  She hauled on his arms with all her might. His wedged foot didn’t budge. Rooster’s teeth. She re-adjusted her grip and dug in her heels. “All right. Once more. Push.”

  He pushed, and she pulled. There was no movement. Not even a smidgen. His foot was lodged tighter than a fat rabbit in a hollow log. She’d have to find some other way to free the boy. If Gabe were here, he’d have the rocks moved in seconds. Wouldn’t that just take the starch out of Pete Cavendish’s britches?

  The thought of shifting the rocks prodded an idea. “I’m going to look for a stout branch. Something I can wedge beneath one of these rocks and move it enough that you can slip your foot out.”

  He pointed to the other side of the ravine. “I saw a big branch lying over there by that thick clump of scrub brush.”